#this post is inspired by the comic burning

[riverdalesthirdparalleluniverse]

Oh no please don't give me a Riverdalian take on facism

[anominous-user]

HOOOOOH it's finally done - this was supposed to be for kevinsu week day 7 (free day) but i ran a little late as you can see so consider this a late submission. this whole thing has been on my mind since last year but its only until a few months ago that i actually thumbnailed and june/july that i sketched and rendered all the panels... BUT what matters is that i finished it so (salute emoji)

[kotori-mochi]

Can't afford art school?

After seeing post like this 👇

And this gem 👇

As well as countless of others from the AI generator community. Just talking about how "inaccessible art" is, I decided why not show how wrong these guys are while also helping anyone who actually wants to learn.

Here is the first one ART TEACHERS! There are plenty online and in places like youtube.

📺Here is my list:

Proko (Free, mostly teaches anatomy and how to draw people. But does have art talks and teaches the basics.)

Marc Brunet (Free but he does have other classes for a cheap price. Use to work for Blizzard and teaches you everything)

Aaron Rutten (free, tips about art, talks about art programs and the best products for digital art)

BoroCG (free, teaches a verity of art mediums from 3D modeling to digital painting. As well as some tips that can be used across styles)

Jesse J. Jones (free, talks about animating)

Jesus Conde (free, teaches digital painting and has classes in Spanish)

Mohammed Agbadi (free, he gives some advice in some videos and talks about art)

Ross Draws (free, he does have other classes for a good price. Mostly teaching character designs and simple backgrounds.)

SamDoesArts (free, gives good advice and critiques)

Drawfee Show (free, they do give some good advice and great inspiration)

The Art of Aaron Blaise ( useful tips for digital art and animation. Was an animator for Disney. Mostly nature art)

Bobby Chiu ( useful tips and interviews with artist who are in the industry or making a living as artist)

Sinix Design (has some tips on drawing people)

Winged canvas (art school for free on a verity of mediums)

Bob Ross (just a good time, learn how to paint, as well as how too relax when doing art. "there are no mistakes only happy accidents", this channel also provides tips from another artist)

Scott Christian Sava (Inspiration and provides tips and advice)

Pikat (art advice and critiques)

Drawbox (a suggested cheap online art school, made of a community of artist)

Skillshare (A cheap learning site that has art classes ranging from traditional to digital. As well as Animation and tutorials on art programs. All under one price, in the USA it's around $34 a month)

Human anatomy for artist (not a video or teacher but the site is full of awesome refs to practice and get better at anatomy)

Second part BOOKS, I have collected some books that have helped me and might help others.

📚Here is my list:

The "how to draw manga" series produced by Graphic-sha. These are for manga artist but they give great advice and information.

"Creating characters with personality" by Tom Bancroft. A great book that can help not just people who draw cartoons but also realistic ones. As it helps you with facial ques and how to make a character interesting.

"Albinus on anatomy" by Robert Beverly Hale and Terence Coyle. Great book to help someone learn basic anatomy.

"Artistic Anatomy" by Dr. Paul Richer and Robert Beverly Hale. A good book if you want to go further in-depth with anatomy.

"Directing the story" by Francis Glebas. A good book if you want to Story board or make comics.

"Animal Anatomy for Artists" by Eliot Goldfinger. A good book for if you want to draw animals or creatures.

"Constructive Anatomy: with almost 500 illustrations" by George B. Bridgman. A great book to help you block out shadows in your figures and see them in a more 3 diamantine way.

"Dynamic Anatomy: Revised and expand" by Burne Hogarth. A book that shows how to block out shapes and easily understand what you are looking out. When it comes to human subjects.

"An Atlas of animal anatomy for artist" by W. Ellenberger and H. Dittrich and H. Baum. This is another good one for people who want to draw animals or creatures.

Etherington Brothers, they make books and have a free blog with art tips.

📝As for Supplies, I recommend starting out cheap, buying Pencils and art paper at dollar tree or 5 below. If you want to go fancy Michaels is always a good place for traditional supplies. They also get in some good sales and discounts. For digital art, I recommend not starting with a screen art drawing tablet as they are usually more expensive.

For the Best art Tablet I recommend either Xp-pen, Bamboo or Huion. Some can range from about 40$ to the thousands.

💻As for art programs here is a list of Free to pay.

Clip Studio paint ( you can choose to pay once or sub and get updates. Galaxy, Windows, macOS, iPad, iPhone, Android, or Chromebook device. )

Procreate ( pay once for $9.99 usd, IPAD & IPHONE ONLY)

Blender (for 3D modules/sculpting, animation and more. Free)

PaintTool SAI (pay but has a 31 day free trail)

Krita (Free)

mypaint (free)

FireAlpaca (free)

Aseprite ($19.99 usd but has a free trail, for pixel art Windows & macOS)

Drawpile (free and for if you want to draw with others)

IbisPaint (free, phone app ONLY)

Medibang (free, IPAD, Android and PC)

NOTE: Some of these can work on almost any computer like Clip and Sai but others will require a bit stronger computer like Blender. Please check their sites for if your computer is compatible.

So do with this information as you will but as you can tell there are ways to learn how to become an artist, without breaking the bank. The only thing that might be stopping YOU from using any of these things, is YOU.

I have made time to learn to draw and many artist have too. Either in-between working two jobs or taking care of your family and a job or regular school and chores. YOU just have to take the time or use some time management, it really doesn't take long to practice for like an hour or less. YOU also don't have to do it every day, just once or three times a week is fine.

Hope this was helpful and have a great day.

"also apologies for any spelling or grammar errors, I have Dyslexia and it makes my brain go XP when it comes to speech or writing"

[inkdippedstars]

[last edited feb 19, 2020]

The Wave.

Out the window; You see it; And you know; It’s the end.

It’s not what you expected.

The day is dark; Panic is rampant; Goodbyes fill the air; You don’t react;

You can’t.

This isn’t how; It was supposed to go; So much to do; All gone in a second;

It’s the end, and you can’t handle it.

How are you supposed to? Everything is chaos; Nothing will be left; What can you even do…?

Hide.

You don’t go outside; Fear crossing your mind; At least in here; You don’t have to see;

How it all will fade to black.

You want to laugh and cry; To act like this is some sick joke; To spend your last moments with people; To scream at the world;

‘How could you do this?’

Imagine the public; Fearful of the inevitable; Without a plan; But trying to stop it despite that;

It is useless to postpone.

Something snaps; As you hear the screams; And feel the panic in yourself; You stand;

You will not go down hiding.

Outside the door; You see it; But you cannot go back now; You stand in the middle;

You will leave facing it.

While everyone else was fleeing; Futilely trying to save themselves; You keep your ground; As it approaches closer;

Soon everything will be destroyed.

It is not that you aren’t afraid; You are very much afraid; But there is something; You aren’t alone.

There is someone with you.

You do not remember them; You cannot see them; But you know they are there; You and a stranger, a stranger and you;

The only ones facing it.

It was here; The last thing you remember; Is their hand holding unto yours; Before it all went-

[critterbitter]

What a weird eel dog! Wanted to draw emmet's starter. Inspired by the kind folks in my inbox, which I’ll be responding to down here

(more submas content? Check my masterpost!)

@holly-rose12 Ngl I'm gonna slow down on posting so I don't burn myself out, but yeah this hyperfixation's got a good grip on my soul. I STILL have so many ideas for the other members of the submas team, and I STILL really want to draw more Elesa too. Ah, the tunnels keep getting deeper...

@fortunatelykawaiitiger hehe me? committing crimes? noo. i would never.

@faestorian (drags you into the tunnels with me) I refuse to be the only one having brain rot

@nomorekneecapprivileges AAH THANK YOU! also JDSKLJFDSLK YOUR NAME- ((will draw sneasler at some point! The comics weren't meant to be linear but as you can tell, i'm awkwardly moving from tiny eel dog and angry candle shenanigans to teenage eel dog and sassy lamp shenanigans.))

@opossumonashelf YES HELLO I SEE YOU POP UP IN MY FEED ALL THE TIME THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE- but also yes!! eelektross my beloved.

@primordial-being EELEKTROSS IS SO SHAPE. No thoughts behind those eyes (just like me fr)

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Puppy Love: Sweet and Romantic, but also somehow Murderous ❤️‍🔥

⚣❤️‍🔥 A/N → something I started writing while finishing up Shadowing Nightwing. Is this what I imagine my relationship to be like with Jason on a regular basis...absolutely. Absolutely. Am I somewhat delusional and living in a fantasy world? Also, absolutely, but also, mind your fucking business. anyways...! This was inspired from multiple posts and authors, who I have tagged and hyperlinked. @allllium @maj-b-s Thank you for feeding my obsession—ahem—my therapist will be sending you a bill. tee hee... WARNINGS: 18 + MDNI | College Male Reader | Fluff & Humor | Minor Violence (Implied) | Swearing/Crude Language | Smut | Breathplay | Possessiveness/Jealousy | Everyone wants Y/N's man |

⚣❤️‍🔥 Summary → Meet Jason and Y/N: Gotham’s answer to the ultimate “relationship goals”—if your relationship goals involve an overly protective vigilante with a slight obsession for tearing apart his boyfriend’s scandalous wardrobe (and sometimes his coworkers). Their love story? Equal parts intense, adorable, and absolutely chaotic. Jason’s the growling, brooding protector who’d burn the world for Y/N, while Y/N is the sunshine with just enough sass to keep him in check… well, sometimes.

⚣❤️‍🔥 Word Count → 14.5K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY ❤️‍🔥

If you asked anyone, they might hesitate to admit it outright, but the truth was hard to ignore: people envied Jason and Y/N’s relationship—and who could blame them? From the day those two started dating, they’d been like high-school sweethearts stuck in the honeymoon phase, but with ten times the intensity and none of the restraint. Not to sound bitter or envious—it was just a fact.

They were a painfully adorable couple. Jason was the doting, protective lover, almost to a fault. Sure, it’s a bit of a cliché, but he didn’t exactly help himself with the stark difference in how he treated others versus Y/N. Around everyone else, Jason looked permanently grouchy, as though every conversation he endured was a test of patience he barely passed. His eye-rolls, heavy sighs, and palpable disinterest didn’t go unnoticed; in fact, he made it pretty clear he couldn’t wait to walk away from anyone who wasn’t Y/N.

But the moment Y/N entered the room? Suddenly, Jason had nothing more important in the world. It was almost comical to watch this towering vigilante hang onto every word Y/N said like an overly attached puppy. Actually, that was the perfect way to describe their dynamic: Jason was a huge, lethal teddy bear with a soft spot, and Y/N was the unassuming boyfriend who had no clue how much sway he held over this giant who’d kill for him without hesitation.

Honestly, the best way to describe Y/N was as Jason’s polar opposite. He was social—well, social enough—and that sometimes got on his boyfriend’s nerves, who would’ve preferred to keep Y/N all to himself. It was partly jealousy, partly a possessive urge to monopolize his lover’s attention, but mostly it was Jason’s instinct to shield him from a world that had never been kind to the vigilante. Jason had been hardened by a lifetime of darkness, and he’d go to ridiculous lengths to keep Y/N’s light from dimming.

Not that Jason’s methods were exactly…practical.

“Jason, I get that you want to protect me, but you can’t shield me from everything,” Y/N said, finally sitting his boyfriend down for a much-needed conversation after yet another of Jason’s over-the-top protective stunts. “The only way you could do that would be to wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me away in a cave or something.”

“Trust me, I’ve considered it,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Y/N blinked, raising a brow.

“Nothing.”

Despite Y/N’s more social nature, he was everything Jason felt he was missing in life. He was the humor, the hope, the optimism Jason rarely allowed himself. And sure, his optimism came with a sprinkle of sarcasm when he was annoyed, but Jason loved that too. In fact, he was so taken by Y/N that it was nearly an obsession—though, to be fair, obsession was kind of expected from someone like him.

Would a therapist call it codependency or maybe some kind of unhealthy dynamic? Probably. But good luck telling Jason that. He’d likely see it as a personal attack—and let’s just say that if you value your life, you might want to avoid bringing it up. You’ve been warned.

But back to the point: Y/N and Jason’s relationship quickly became the kind that made even Y/N’s friends—most of whom were floundering in the love department—wonder just how he’d managed to snag such a devoted and caring guy. It especially made Jason feel appreciated, loved, and genuinely important to someone the way Y/N would never miss a chance to gush about his vigilante boyfriend to anyone willing to listen, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly loved every second of it.

Though, do exercise a bit (lot) of caution, because once the topic turns to Jason, everyone’s in for a long haul—Y/N could and would talk anyone’s ear off that was willing to listen about how amazing his boyfriend is. Just as Jason was obsessed with Y/N, Y/N was equally smitten with Jason, and honestly? Jason wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, Y/N, spill it! I need every detail about how you landed this guy. Don’t hold out on me—give me the exact prayer, word-for-word, quickly!”

“I—uh—well, I—”

“Come on, Y/N! My pen is drying up, and I’m not getting any younger!” His friend slapped a notepad and pen down in front of him, staring him down like he was about to write out a love spell straight from a witch’s spellbook.

“Girl, I don’t even know. The guy just kinda showed up in my life one day and never left,” Y/N shrugged, half-joking, though it was pretty much the truth.

It had all been by chance—well, kind of. If you could call Jason keeping an eye on Y/N “chance.” In reality, he’d been sort of… lurking, for good reasons (or at least reasons he’d justified to himself). It started one night when Y/N was finishing up his work-study shift at Gotham University. Now, calling an Uber would’ve been the smart, safe choice, especially in a city like Gotham. But he lived just 15 minutes away, and spending money on a five-minute ride? Please. He had a budget to consider.

That was before he found himself cornered in a dark alley by three oversized thugs who smelled like the embodiment of an ashtray mixed with cheap beer, a scent so thick it made his eyes water. The kind of men Gotham bred like weeds—rough, desperate, dangerous. Y/N barely had time to process the situation before one of them shoved him against a cold, brick wall, a knife pressing against his throat. His backpack was snatched and dumped unceremoniously onto the wet alley floor, its contents spilling out for their inspection.

His mind raced, paralyzed with fear and regret. He could practically hear his parents' voices reminding him to be cautious, to make smart choices, to avoid walking alone at night in places like this. Irony stung almost as much as the cold steel against his neck—the “responsible” choice would have been to spend that $15 on an Uber, not gamble his safety for a free walk. 

And was the money he’d save really worth risking his life for? Probably not. But hey, that was Gotham for you—always teaching life lessons the hard way. He braced himself, feeling the icy dread of not knowing if he’d make it out alive. Stories like these didn’t usually end well on the news in this city.

But fate, or something like it, had other plans.

Out of nowhere, a low, gravelly voice sliced through the night. “I’d drop the knife if I were you.”

Y/N didn’t dare turn his head, but he felt the tension shift as the thugs looked up, startled. Standing at the mouth of the alley was a figure who seemed to materialize from the shadows—a tall, broad man clad in black and deep red, with a sleeveless hoodie that revealed muscular arms wrapped in red bandages. A mask and hood concealed majority of his face, glowing red eyes staring down the thugs with an intensity that froze them in place. Strapped across his back were two long katanas, and a utility belt around his waist held holsters that almost certainly contained a pair of guns, adding to his already intimidating presence.

Red Hood.

Y/N had heard of him, of course. Gotham’s resident anti-hero, rumored to have a thing for…creative violence. The vigilante’s imposing size was enough to make anyone feel small; he towered over Y/N, his form carved out of muscle and something darker, something hardened. Even the thugs looked ready to wet themselves, and Y/N could feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as he finally dared to look up.

In less time than it took him to blink, Red Hood had closed the distance, dispatching the thugs with an efficiency that would’ve been impressive if it weren’t so, well, terrifying. Knives clattered to the ground, grunts and thuds filled the air, and Y/N just stood there, frozen like a deer in headlights, half expecting to wake up from a weird stress-induced nightmare.

But this was very real, as proven when Red Hood finally turned to him, and Y/N felt his breath hitch. Up close, the vigilante was even more intimidating—a wall of muscle wrapped in dark red and black, those red eyes glowing with an intensity that made Y/N’s knees wobble. There was no denying it; the guy was terrifying. Yet, for some reason, there was a weird, traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispering, He’s kind of hot, though.

“You alright?” The voice was rough, like gravel scraping across metal, but there was an undertone of concern. Red Hood’s gaze softened just a fraction, almost imperceptible, yet Y/N caught it.

“I—I think so,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes were wide, and he forced himself not to flinch as Red Hood stepped even closer, the hulking vigilante now looming over him. Up close, he could see the muscles tense beneath the suit, the power radiating off him like heat.

Red Hood’s head tilted slightly, as if assessing him, and Y/N swore he felt like he was being scanned. Which, honestly, was fair. He was some college kid wearing a sweatshirt that said “Gotham U” in block letters, and this guy looked like he wrestled criminals for fun. But instead of feeling like prey, he felt this strange pull, like something was drawing him toward the vigilante. It was probably just adrenaline… or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Red Hood gave a grunt, a sound that could have meant anything from “good to hear” to “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, punk.” But then he leaned down, his helmet casting an ominous shadow over Y/N’s face. “Next time, take the Uber.”

Y/N blinked, the absurdity of the situation hitting him all at once. “Noted,” he replied, deadpan, because honestly, what else could he say?

He should have been scared—terrified, even. But instead, he found himself lingering on every detail: the way Red Hood’s chest rose and fell, the glint of his weapons, the sense of barely restrained danger that rolled off him in waves. And underneath all of that, a strange, quiet thrill that he didn’t quite understand.

Satisfied, Red Hood gave him one last look before he started to turn away, blending back into the shadows. But in a flash of impulsiveness, Y/N called out, “Wait!”

Red Hood stopped, glancing over his shoulder, clearly not used to random civilians asking for an encore. Y/N hesitated, realizing how ridiculous he must have sounded, but the words were already out there, so he figured he might as well keep going.

“Uh… thanks. For, you know, saving me. And also for the life advice,” he added, his voice dripping with awkward humor.

There was a pause—a long, silent pause where Y/N briefly wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. But then, to his surprise, he thought he saw the faintest tilt of amusement in the way Red Hood shifted his stance. Was that… a chuckle? No, probably not. But he’d like to think so.

Red Hood nodded—a subtle acknowledgment—before disappearing into the night, leaving Y/N alone in the alley with nothing but his scattered belongings and a heart that felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. As he knelt down to gather his things, he couldn’t help but survey the carnage of his soggy notebooks and papers, along with his now-broken laptop and tangled, half-shattered headphones.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he picked up a notebook that was more mush than paper. “Well, this is fine,” he muttered, trying to keep his spirits up. “Just a little water damage. Adds character, right?”

Then he spotted his laptop, the screen shattered and a piece of it barely hanging on by a hinge. He laughed, a bitter chuckle that held more disbelief than humor. “Guess it’s one way to force an upgrade,” he murmured, stuffing it back in his backpack like a defeated soldier gathering his gear after a lost battle.

And the headphones? Well, they’d been cheap anyway, held together by more wishful thinking than actual quality. “You were too good for this world,” he whispered dramatically, dropping them into the bag with a resigned sigh.

Despite the state of his belongings, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just survived something surreal, something that would haunt his dreams and maybe even—dare he say it?—excite him a little.

Unbeknownst to him, from the shadows a few blocks away, Jason eyed him from his hiding spot, a curiosity nagging at him, as if he’d found something worth watching over. He could see Y/N still crouched on the grimy ground, gathering his belongings—soggy notebooks, torn papers, a laptop with a shattered screen. He’d felt a pang of guilt as he watched, a flicker of sympathy mingling with a less-than-pleasant feeling of familiarity knowing all too well what it was like to lose the few things you relied on—to feel like the world had kicked you when you were down.

And while he’d never admit it, maybe a part of him liked that the kid seemed more amused than scared. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone didn’t scream when they saw Red Hood.

Of course, now that they were dating, Y/N was not surprised by the vigilante’s actions after their encounter when he’d come out of his apartment a week later to find a large box sitting on his doorstep with a plain label reading simply, “For You.” 

Inside was an assortment of brand-new school supplies including pristine notebooks in varying colors, a handful of smooth, high-quality pens and highlighters, and even a sleek, expensive laptop that he definitely could not afford on a student budget. Nestled beside it was a pair of high-quality Bluetooth headphones—the kind he’d ogled online but never dreamed of buying. And to top it all off, there was a sturdy, stylish bag to carry everything in.

And while most other people would’ve been slightly concerned at the fact that a random vigilante just happened to know their address after only one meeting where they didn’t even give their name, Y/N on the other hand, was processing the contents of the box with a mix of gratitude, amusement, and a new crush.

And so, their love story began, marked by Jason’s continued (and slightly overprotective) habit of rescuing Y/N from Gotham’s mean streets—even if the college student didn’t always realize he needed saving. Hence the “stalking” mentioned earlier.

Of course, was it technically stalking if it was done out of love and devotion for some random stranger you’d developed a massive crush on but couldn’t quite work up the nerve to talk to directly? Well… yes. Experts would say it’s still stalking. But hey, if those experts ever found themselves in a tight spot, Jason would be conveniently “unavailable” to save them.

Naturally, Y/N couldn’t exactly share the full story of his and Jason’s introduction. For one, his friends would roast him to the ends of the earth for being dumb enough to walk home alone in Gotham at night. He could practically hear their voices now: “Really, Y/N? Alone? At night? In Gotham? Do you not value your own life?” And frankly, he wasn’t about to give them that much material.

Oh, and there was also the tiny detail of Red Hood’s whole secret vigilante identity thing.

So, he went with a slightly edited version of the story, painting Jason as a “helpful stranger” who just happened to show up when Y/N “got lost” and had his bag stolen. And when his friends inevitably asked about the shiny new gear—a nearly $500 bag, top-of-the-line laptop, high-quality headphones, the works—he explained it all as a result of some extra scholarship money and financial aid he’d “saved up.” Sure, splurging on luxury tech and accessories might seem a tad unrealistic, but he’d throw in a line about a “really good sale” and call it a day.

Because as much as Jason’s habit of going overboard with gifts could be a little, well, extra, Y/N wasn’t about to complain. The man was thoughtful in a way few would ever believe, though his affection tended to be wrapped in thick layers of leather, weaponry, and a no-nonsense glare.

Jason loved hard, though he wasn’t quick to show it to just anyone. The guy kept his feelings locked up tighter than a Gotham vault, hardened by a lifetime of broken trust and betrayal. He wasn’t exactly the “wear your heart on your sleeve” type. But every so often, with the right person, he’d crack that tough exterior. And Y/N? Somehow, he’d slipped right through, without even trying.

And okay, could Jason be a little intense? Sure (absolutely). But when a vigilante with a borderline obsessive streak decides he cares about you, well… let’s just say things are bound to get a little out of hand. That’s just the price of having Gotham’s resident anti-hero as your personal guard dog.

Not that Y/N thinks of him quite like that, but it’s kind of funny, considering Jason really does act like a lovesick puppy when it’s just the two of them, his tough exterior melting away—it gave the energy of a Golden Retriever, maybe, or a Siberian Husky with an attitude problem. But the moment anyone else entered the room, his whole vibe transformed. If Y/N was his safe haven, the rest of the world was an enemy camp. He’d switch from doting boyfriend to a blend of German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and Doberman with the attitude and aggressiveness of a Chihuahua on an espresso shot. It was a little terrifying for others but to Y/N? It was just… Jason.

Part of what made their dynamic so unique was how Jason let himself be vulnerable around Y/N, something few people ever got to see. Y/N was his safe space, the person he could trust to see the parts of him he usually kept hidden—the softness, the care, the insecurities he guarded as fiercely as he guarded Gotham’s streets.

Funny enough, Y/N quickly discovered just a few months into dating that Jason’s love language was, without a doubt, physical touch. Why was that funny—and possibly the most ironic thing he’d ever experienced? Because when they first started dating, Jason avoided touch like it was the plague.

It took Y/N a while to notice it, but once he did, it was painfully obvious. Jason had this way of keeping just enough distance, as if he’d drawn a line no one was allowed to cross. At first, Y/N thought it was just Jason’s natural intensity, but over time, he began to see the pattern. Jason was hyper-aware of any physical contact—quick to dodge, tense when someone brushed against him accidentally, even flinching at touches he saw coming. It was like he’d trained himself to see any sort of physical contact as a potential threat.

And it made sense, really, considering Jason’s past and the double life he led—something Y/N only found out about a few months after they started dating. Jason’s body told a story all on its own, each scar and faded bruise marking a chapter of battles fought and enemies conquered. The scars weren’t just skin-deep; they were reminders of a life filled with danger, betrayal, and loss. And Y/N began to understand why Jason had always kept his distance, why he seemed wary of even the gentlest touch. To Jason, vulnerability had always come with a price.

Also, talking about his family was a rare event, and when he did, there was a hesitance, a guarded tone. Y/N knew bits and pieces—enough to understand that while Jason loved his family, there were wounds there too, emotional scars that ran just as deep as the ones on his body. He avoided talking about them, save for the occasional mention of Alfred, the family’s butler. Alfred was the exception, the one person Jason spoke of with nothing but respect and a rare softness. In time, Y/N came to love and appreciate Alfred just as much, seeing how deeply he’d cared for Jason when others hadn’t.

But even with Alfred, Jason’s life had taught him that letting people in, letting people close, meant risking pain. So he’d built walls, high and impenetrable, where touch was a luxury and distance was safety. Yet again, somehow, Y/N had slipped through those walls. Slowly, patiently, he’d helped Jason find comfort in a gentle touch, a warm embrace, and the knowledge that here, with him, there was no danger. Just love.

At first, it was subtle—the occasional shoulder touch, the brief brush of his hand, like Jason was testing the waters. But as he grew more comfortable, his affection started to show in quiet, gentle ways: a hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back, an arm draped protectively around his shoulders, or the way he’d pull Y/N close, as if his presence alone could shield him from the world. Sure, his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, but Y/N didn’t mind one bit. He’d come to cherish those moments, knowing that each touch, each fierce little act of devotion, was Jason’s own way of saying, I love you.

And before Y/N even realized it, Jason had practically become his shadow, glued to his side like some overly affectionate—albeit slightly brooding—puppy. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, Jason couldn’t go a full five minutes without reaching out to touch him, craving the comfort and reassurance of Y/N’s presence. Jason was always there, one way or another: a hand resting on his neck, fingers tracing along his arm, a warm weight on his thigh, or just… hovering in his orbit like a bodyguard who happened to look at him like he was the best thing in Gotham.

Rarely did a moment pass when they weren’t connected in some physical way. More often than not, Jason would find any excuse to pull Y/N into a full-on cuddle, whether they were on the couch or in bed, as if he was storing up warmth like a battery. And his favorite spot? Laying his head on Y/N’s chest, listening to his heartbeat with his eyes closed, completely at peace as Y/N’s hands ran gently through his hair. For Jason, it was the ultimate comfort, a reminder that he was loved and safe—a rare feeling in his life.

It was endearing, really. Jason might’ve been Gotham’s big bad vigilante, but to Y/N, he was a full-grown man with the energy of a giant, needy puppy, demanding his attention with that silent, intense stare of his. And honestly? Y/N wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course, Y/N would be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of the way Jason would pout and glare at him whenever he stopped rubbing his head or, heaven forbid, dared to refuse his touch. Imagine this six-foot-plus tower of muscle—a guy who could make dudes on steroids look like scrawny sidekicks—staring down his boyfriend with an actual pout because he wasn’t getting his cuddle fix. It was a sight that never failed to make Y/N laugh (not that he’d do it out loud; he valued his life, after all).

Jason could—and would—throw his ire at just about anyone else, often for the smallest of reasons. Anyone not named Y/N was fair game for his mood swings, his infamous scowl, and even the occasional growl. But with Y/N? Well, let’s just say he was spared from the wrath of Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante… unless he denied Jason cuddles or the sacred privilege of his bodily embrace. That, apparently, was the one line Y/N couldn’t cross.

The “punishment” usually lasted, at most, ten minutes. Jason would start by sulking, grumbling under his breath like a child denied dessert, and shooting Y/N the kind of glare usually reserved for Gotham’s worst criminals. Y/N, of course, would hold out as long as he could, but eventually, one of two things would happen. Either he’d cave, sighing as he finally opened his arms to let Jason claim his cuddle rights, listening as Jason mumbled dramatically about how he “should never be denied cuddles” because it was his god-given right, or—if Y/N took too long—Jason would take matters into his own hands.

And by that, it meant Jason would simply scoop him up, plop himself down, and drape his entire, solid weight on top of Y/N like some overgrown cat claiming it's human. There was no escape—Jason’s big arms wrapped around him like an anaconda, pulling him close until Y/N was completely enveloped, pinned down with zero chance of getting away.

Y/N didn’t mind, though. Quite the opposite, actually—it was hot. Sue him.

"Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way but… is your man single?” one of his coworkers asked, giving him a sly grin.

OOP—

GIRL. For your own sake—and for the sake of anyone within a mile radius—tread carefully. That man is as jealous and territorial as his possessive ass vigilante boyfriend, who’s on a level that’s practically legendary. No, seriously; Jason’s jealousy was on a scale that was insane.

Case in point: family game night. Tim had everyone playing this game where you had to come up with a word for each category starting with a randomly chosen letter. Simple enough, right? Well, when “J” was the letter of the round, let’s just say Y/N’s answers weren’t exactly… satisfying to a certain overprotective vigilante.

“Y/N,” Jason hissed, narrowing his eyes, “you’ve got two seconds to explain to me who the hell Jackson is.”

“I had to think of something!” Y/N replied, holding up his hands defensively.

Jason crossed his arms, staring him down. “And what does my name start with, hmm?”

“I—okay, listen, I panicked! I was thinking about Percy Jackson!”

Jason didn’t see it as jealousy—he was just protective, okay? But if his definition of protective happened to mean glaring down anyone who so much as glanced at Y/N, then so be it.

Y/N on the other hand…

Funny enough, Jason actually started complaining because every time he and Y/N went out together, people would give him looks, like they thought Y/N was in mortal danger. And okay, Jason got it—he wasn’t exactly small, or subtle. With his build, his perpetual scowl, and the way he seemed ready to throw down at any given moment, he could understand slightly why people would think the way they’d think. Shit, he’d do the same. But still.

When it got to the point of the cops getting called because the neighbors heard loud noises, grunts, and what they thought were sounds of pain and struggle after seeing a large and intimidating man drag Y/N into his apartment—when, in reality, they were just doing the dirty tango against the kitchen wall—it gets a bit annoying.

But that wasn’t even the real issue Jason had been complaining about. No, what had actually gotten under his skin was how everyone always assumed he was the threat, when in reality, it was Y/N they should’ve been worried about. People just didn’t see it, but Y/N had a dangerous side all his own. Just ask the kid who was dumb enough to try and pull a fast one on Jason by touching and caressing him in public when Y/N had stepped away for a moment.

The moment the college student came back… well, let’s just say things got ugly. Legally, however, Jason couldn’t speak about it. Not because he didn’t want to—oh, he’d love to relive the whole glorious scene—but because Y/N had made him, and his brothers, sign an NDA afterward. Yep, Dick, Tim, Damian, and Jason had to put pen to paper, bound to secrecy about The Incident.

Y/N had handled it with a level of ruthless efficiency that left the whole Bat family in awe. He’d dealt with that poor, clueless kid in a way that was so subtly devastating that even Bruce raised an eyebrow when he found out. Although, truth be told, Bruce wasn’t exactly shocked; he just hadn’t expected someone as sweet as Y/N to be quite so… resourceful.

After that, the whole family understood that, sure, Jason might look like the scary one—but when it came to those he loved, especially when it involved Jason, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with.

Y/N glanced back at his coworker with a slightly distant look before letting out a laugh, shaking his head. “Girl, don’t play.”

Girl—seriously, don’t do it.

Thankfully, she chose common sense and life at that moment, laughing along with him. “You know I’m just kidding! But seriously, where did you find him? The things I’d do just to get a man who looks at me with even half the love as he does with you.”

It was in Y/N’s honest opinion that Jason had to be an angel or some divine gift sent to him from the heavens above. Or God, the Universe, Santa Claus, took mercy on him knowing that kind of unserious trouble he could get himself into. Seriously, it was like his life was written by some dude who strove to put him in the most unthinkable scenarios ever thought of by man.

…

Hold up.

…

Nah…unless?

“But seriously, where do you even find a man like that? ‘Cause the ones out here? Girl, they’re giving ‘bare minimum’ and vibes. God really needs to start restocking the good ones.”

“Where did I find him?” Y/N repeated, smirking as he wiped down the counter. “I don’t know. One day he just showed up, brooding and scary-looking, and now he refuses to leave.”

His coworker rolled her eyes, leaning closer like she was trying to decode some deep secret. “You’re dodging the question. Men like that don’t just show up. Spill the tea.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly? If I told you the real story, you wouldn’t believe me.”

And wasn’t that the truth? If he started explaining how Gotham’s most terrifying vigilante had saved him from a mugging, delivered new school supplies like some twisted fairy godmother, and then proceeded to burrow into his life like an oversized, territorial puppy, she’d probably think he was delusional. Or worse, that he was into some bizarre fanfiction-level nonsense. Which, fair.

Before Y/N could add anything else, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across his face.

Jason: Did you eat yet?

Y/N sighed, typing back a quick Yes, Dad, even though it was a blatant lie. He didn’t need Jason going full hover-boyfriend just because he skipped breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, though, Jason strolled into the shop like he owned the place, a brown paper bag in hand. Y/N barely had time to react before Jason plopped the bag on the counter, his expression hovering between annoyed and smug.

“Didn’t I just tell you I ate?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jason crossed his arms, his biceps straining his jacket in a way that made his coworker openly gape. “And I didn’t believe you. So here.” He gestured at the bag like it was some great offering, clearly unbothered by the audience they had. “You’re not skipping meals.”

Y/N sighed, opening the bag to find his favorite sandwich neatly packed alongside a container of fruit and—of course—a bottle of water. His coworker, meanwhile, was staring like she was witnessing a rom-com play out in real life.

“You know,” she whispered as Jason stepped back to lean casually against the counter, his watchful gaze flicking between Y/N and the shop’s door, “if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

Y/N snorted, shoving a grape in his mouth. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

In all honesty, Y/N knew the kind of love Jason offered wasn’t for the faint of heart. As previously mentioned, when that man loved, he loved hard—like all-in, no-holds-barred, borderline territorial levels of hard. And he wasn’t just protective—oh no, he was possessive with a capital P when it came to the things he cared about.

What did that mean?

Well...

Considering the kind of life Jason had lived—where the things he loved or that brought him joy were often ripped away in the most brutal, gut-wrenching ways imaginable—it wasn’t exactly a shocker. Jason had become fiercely devoted to guarding what was his, with a vigilance that often toed the line between endearing and slightly terrifying.

It was like an aggressive dog who decided one day that a random shoe was its favorite thing in the world. The kind of resource-guarding where even looking at the shoe too long earned you a deep, guttural growl of warning. Ignore the warning? Well, congratulations, you just donated a finger—or maybe two—to the cause.

If it’s not clear by now, Y/N was the shoe, and Jason was the dog. And when it came to Y/N, anything—or anyone—that so much as hinted at upsetting him, threatening him, or even mildly inconveniencing him would quickly find themselves on the wrong end of Jason’s wrath. It wasn’t a matter of if there’d be hell to pay, but how much. Spoiler: it was always a lot.

So, picture this: Y/N comes home after a long day of morning classes and an equally draining evening shift. On the surface, he looks fine. Totally normal. But what no one knows is that he spent the last twenty minutes sitting in his car, quietly sobbing into a handful of fast-food napkins.

He knew better than to bring those emotions into the apartment, though. Because while most boyfriends would give you a hug and let you vent, Jason would go full vigilante mode. If he even sensed that someone had made Y/N upset, it wouldn’t just be hell to pay—it’d be Gotham-wide carnage. And Y/N, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, liked to minimize unnecessary casualties.

Armed with tissues, eyedrops, and a firm I’m fine, just tired mantra, Y/N stepped through the door, hoping to slide under Jason’s radar.

Nope. Not happening.

The moment Jason saw him, his expression shifted. Y/N had no clue what gave him away—was it the puffiness? His voice? The way he stood?—but Jason immediately clocked something.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, his voice calm, but laced with that dangerous edge that said he was already running through a mental list of suspects who might need a "visit."

Y/N froze, debating his options. He knew better than to lie. Jason would sniff it out in seconds. But he also knew that the moment he opened his mouth, Jason wouldn’t rest until he figured out who—or what—was responsible.

And honestly? That was the kind of energy Y/N both feared and loved about him.

“I just had a stressful day at work, Jason. I’ll be fine,” Y/N said, sidestepping as he tried to make his way past the towering vigilante and towards the bathroom.

But trying to get past Jason when he was in that mode? Easier said than done. It was like trying to walk through a solid brick wall—one that was armed, brooding, and ridiculously muscled. Jason was locked into full protective-boyfriend mode, which meant Y/N wasn’t going anywhere until Jason had the name, address, and probably the social security number of the person who dared to upset him.

Why he needed the social security number? Well, Bruce did teach him to be thorough when handling "cases." And in Jason’s mind, this was no different.

In one smooth move, Jason’s arm shot out, stopping Y/N’s attempt to breeze past him. With two quick steps, Y/N found himself backed against the wall—well, Jason’s chest first, and then the wall behind him. Jason leaned in, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, his dark, piercing gaze locking onto Y/N’s like a laser. That intense look he gave—the one that said I have no problem keeping you right here until I get answers—made Y/N’s knees weak.

Not that he minded. Let’s be real: Jason’s body, his sheer presence, had always been Y/N’s favorite place to decompress, even if it came with the added pressure of being metaphorically (and sometimes literally) pinned to the hot seat. And honestly? Who could complain about being wrapped up in the arms of a man like Jason. If you wouldn’t feel the same, take your judgment elsewhere.

Jason tilted his head, his voice low and commanding as he leaned in closer. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N muttered, looking away, though his traitorous heart betrayed him by picking up speed. He could feel Jason’s gaze on him, heavy and unwavering. “Just a bad day.”

“That’s not nothing,” Jason replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His arm caged Y/N in further, his body so close that Y/N could feel the heat radiating off him. “Bad days don’t make you cry in your car before coming home.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. Damn it. How does he always know?

Jason leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he whispered, “I’ll ask again. Who made you cry?”

That commanding tone, combined with Jason’s overwhelming presence, had Y/N’s walls crumbling faster than he’d like to admit. “Jason, it’s nothing you need to get involved in. It’s my boss—he’s just been... making things harder than they need to be,” he said, his voice faltering as he tried to downplay the situation.

Jason’s jaw ticked, and his free hand gently cupped Y/N’s chin, tilting his head back so their eyes met. “Details. Now.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion bubbled over. “He’s cutting my hours—again. And I need those hours, Jason. For rent, for groceries, for school. I’ve tried talking to him, emailing HR, even bringing in a neutral third party, but nothing changes. And today…” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “Today, he reduced my schedule to the point where I’ll barely be able to afford ramen next week. And then he called me into his office to give me some bullshit ‘coaching moment’ that was really just him tearing me down in front of everyone.”

Jason’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as Y/N’s words sank in. “What did he say?” His tone was dangerously calm, the kind of calm that meant bad things were about to happen to someone.

Y/N shook his head, his voice breaking as he tried to get the words out. “I—I don’t want to repeat it. It was nasty, Jason. Just nasty.”

Jason’s grip softened immediately, his hand moving to the back of Y/N’s neck as he pulled him into his chest. “Baby, come here,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. Y/N didn’t resist, letting himself melt into Jason’s arms as the tears he’d been holding back all day finally spilled over.

Jason held him tightly, his strong arms a fortress of safety and comfort as he whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it out.”

They stayed like that for a while, Jason eventually guiding Y/N to the couch so they could sit down. He pulled Y/N into his lap, holding him as if to shield him from the world. Y/N buried his face in Jason’s chest, the warmth and strength of his boyfriend grounding him as Jason’s hand gently stroked his back.

After a while, Y/N’s voice broke the silence. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Jason. Please.”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “I promise.”

The next day, Y/N found himself questioning that promise when Jason showed up at his workplace. The vigilante didn’t cause a scene—he didn’t need to. A quiet, private “conversation” with Y/N’s manager in the backroom was all it took. Whatever Jason said, it worked. By the time he left, Y/N’s hours had mysteriously been restored, and his manager couldn’t look him in the eye without stammering.

When Y/N confronted him later, Jason just smirked, pulling him into a kiss. “I didn’t do anything rash,” he said innocently. “I just... clarified some things.”

And honestly? Y/N didn’t even want to know what “clarified” meant.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

“Y/N, how much is your rent for this place? It’s really nice, and I’m looking for something closer to campus,” his friend asked one day during a study session at his and Jason’s apartment. A few of their classmates had joined, and the group was sprawled out in the living room, surrounded by open textbooks, laptops, and half-empty mugs and cups.

Y/N was about to answer—he really was—but then paused, his face twisting into a look of genuine confusion as he stared off into the distance, like he was searching the recesses of his brain for an answer that just wasn’t there. “Uh… I think $1,100? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that, though. I’m not 100% sure.”

His friends all exchanged baffled looks. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not sure?” one of them asked, narrowing their eyes. “How do you not know your own rent?”

“I do! I just… forgot,” Y/N said with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Now they were all staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Y/N, literally what the fuck? How do you just forget how much you pay in rent? Who forgets that?”

“I don’t know, okay? I knew it when I signed the lease, but every time I try to pay it at the beginning of the month, Jason’s already paid it. Sometimes months in advance! And, I don’t know, after a while, it just stopped being something I thought about.” Y/N gestured vaguely, as if this explanation somehow made perfect sense.

That didn’t stop the dumbfounded stares—or the flicker of envy in more than a few pairs of eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait.” One of his friends held up a hand. “So your boyfriend just pays your rent for you every month—without even asking—and you just… let him?”

Y/N snorted, sitting back on the couch. “First of all, rude. It’s not like I just let him. Trust me, if you were in my shoes, you’d understand that trying to stop Jason from taking care of me is like… I don’t know, trying to explain to someone in a MAGA hat what a cult is and that they’re in one. You’re not winning that battle.”

Can the church get an amen?

Y/N wasn’t lying—not even a little—when he said that trying to stop Jason from taking care of him was an exercise in futility. If anyone dared to tell Jason he was “doing too much” for his boyfriend, congratulations, they’d now joined the prestigious ranks of those “experts” Jason would gladly let fend for themselves in a crisis. When it came to Y/N, Jason handled it all: physically, emotionally, financially—you name it, he was on it like white on rice. And no amount of protesting from Y/N could change that.

And oh, did Y/N protest.

“Jason, did you pay my rent again?” Y/N asked, stepping into the apartment with his wallet still in hand and a clearly exasperated look on his face. He’d just come back from the leasing office, only to find out his balance was already cleared with a sex month advance payment. Again.

His frustration hit a slight pause, though, as he spotted Jason lounging shirtless on the couch—pause for an aroused deep breath—engrossed in what appeared to be an intense game of Mario Kart on his Nintendo Switch. A book Jason had been reading earlier was tossed haphazardly to the side, forgotten in the heat of the Rainbow Road battle.

Jason didn’t even glance up as he responded, “Yeah, I did. Why?” His thumbs moved quickly over the buttons, his face set in that annoyingly sexy, hyper-focused expression that made Y/N momentarily forget why he was upset in the first place.

“Why?” Y/N snapped, pulling himself out of that temporary daze. “Because I told you not to! That’s why!” He stormed over, planting himself squarely in front of the couch, arms crossed and glare locked on his boyfriend. “Jason, we’ve talked about this. I can handle my own rent.”

Jason sighed, finally pausing his game. He leaned back against the couch with an air of deliberate calm, setting the joy-con controllers aside. “I know you can,” he said, his voice smooth and measured in a way that made Y/N’s resolve falter. Jason’s eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and steady, pinning Y/N in place. “But here’s the thing, babe—you don’t have to.”

“That’s not the point,” Y/N shot back, his voice wavering slightly as Jason stretched lazily, his arms going behind his head in a way that made the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex. Unfair. He was doing this on purpose.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jason’s lips curved into a slow, smug smirk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and Y/N’s breath hitched as the intensity of his gaze locked onto him. “Taking care of you isn’t optional for me. It’s my job. Whether it’s paying the rent, making sure you eat, or keeping your gorgeous ass out of trouble, that’s mine to handle.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned as he tried to maintain his glare, but it was a losing battle. “Jason,” he said firmly, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him, “you can’t just decide these things without asking me.”

Jason tilted his head, studying him in a way that felt equal parts tender and possessive. “Sure I can,” he said smoothly, reaching out to hook his fingers lightly around Y/N’s wrist, tugging him forward until he was standing between Jason’s knees. “You can handle yourself—I know that. But you don’t need to. Not when I’m here.”

Y/N opened his mouth to protest, but Jason tugged him down into his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close. His free hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, his thumb brushing against the skin there in a way that made Y/N’s heart race.

“Tell me,” Jason murmured, his voice low and commanding, “why should I let you stress over something I can fix? Hmm?”

Y/N bit his lip, trying to muster the strength to argue, but Jason’s tone, his touch, the sheer weight of his presence—it all left him scrambling for words. He hated how easily Jason could reduce him to this flustered mess, and he really hated how much he secretly loved it.

“You’re impossible,” he finally muttered, dropping his head against Jason’s shoulder, his voice soft and defeated.

“And you love me for it,” Jason murmured against his ear, his smirk practically audible.

Y/N groaned but didn’t pull away, his fingers curling against Jason’s chest. “This conversation isn’t over,” he mumbled, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” Jason replied, leaning back with Y/N still in his lap, his grip firm and unyielding. He reached for his Switch with his free hand, resuming his game like he hadn’t just completely derailed the argument and walked away victorious.

And as much as Y/N wanted to be mad, he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Damn it. He really did love him for it. The student didn’t need to say how much he appreciated the weight of Jason’s steady presence; Jason didn’t need to hear it to know. And while Y/N would keep fighting to hold his own ground, there was a part of him—an unspoken, undeniable part—that found comfort in letting Jason hold the world at bay for him.

Their domestic life was a careful dance of their unspoken dynamic, with Jason ensuring their world was secure and steady, while Y/N kept their home—and Jason—centered and whole. Their roles played out naturally, shaped by who they were as individuals. Jason made sure the outside world couldn’t touch Y/N, taking care of the big things, the dangerous things that he’d never let his boyfriend come within a mile of. His presence was a shield, and his devotion ran so deep that sometimes it felt like he’d lay the world at Y/N’s feet if it meant seeing him happy.

Y/N swears there was one time he cracked a joke about wanting to live out his “soft boi” aesthetic—because, obviously, the ‘i’ made it edgier—and Jason, without missing a beat, ran with it without ever looking back.

But Y/N? He was the one who kept their world turning smoothly, the quiet, grounding presence that made sure Jason had a place to fall apart when life became too much. Whether it was stocking the kitchen with Jason’s favorite snacks or simply sitting with him on the couch after a rough patrol, Y/N created the kind of space Jason didn’t even realize he needed—safe, steady, and entirely his.

That balance extended to the little things too. Jason liked to cook when he had the time, his meals always hearty, protein-packed “fuel” designed to keep them going. Y/N, on the other hand, was the one who brought warmth to the table, sneaking in something sweet or comforting—even if it meant slipping vegetables into Jason’s plate, much to his dramatic protests.

“Because it’s pesto,” Y/N replied innocently, grinning as he leaned against the counter. “Don’t act like you’re too good for spinach.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath—something about how spinach was a lie—but ate every bite, proving once again that Y/N knew exactly how to play him.

And then there were the quieter moments—the ones that reminded them both why they worked so well together. Nights spent curled up on the couch, Jason sprawled out with his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his fingers absently tracing patterns along Y/N’s thigh. Y/N would run his fingers through Jason’s hair, the simple, soothing gesture melting away the tension that Jason carried like a second skin. Sometimes they’d talk—about Jason’s patrols, Y/N’s classes, or random nonsense that didn’t matter. Other times, they simply existed together, the quiet hum of their apartment a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world outside.

But even Y/N, the softer half of their partnership, had his limits when it came to anyone crossing a line with Jason. Like the time a journalist ambushed Jason at a charity event, spouting thinly veiled accusations about his past. Jason had been moments away from snapping, his fists clenching at his sides, when Y/N calmly stepped in.

“If you don’t have something constructive to say,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “then I suggest you find someone else to bother.”

The journalist, thrown off by Y/N’s tone—gentle but edged like a blade—backed off almost immediately. Jason hadn’t said a word about it afterward, but later that night, when they were home, he’d kissed Y/N’s temple and murmured a quiet, “Thank you.”

Y/N was never afraid to step in for Jason when he needed him to, even if Jason wouldn’t—or couldn’t—outwardly ask for it. And the fact that Jason didn’t have to ask made it all the more meaningful for the vigilante. Y/N always seemed to know when to intervene, especially in moments when Jason couldn’t advocate for himself—particularly when it came to Bruce.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Jason had come home late that night, his steps heavy, his shoulders slumped in a way that told Y/N everything he needed to know before Jason even said a word. Gotham’s chaos could wear Jason down, but this kind of defeated air? That was Bruce’s handiwork.

Y/N didn’t push right away. He let Jason slip into the apartment, kick off his boots, and collapse onto the couch without a word. Jason sat there, his hands hanging limply between his knees, staring blankly at the floor like he was stuck in some internal tug-of-war. Y/N sat beside him, his hand lightly brushing Jason’s shoulder before resting on his thigh—a grounding touch.

“What happened?” Y/N asked softly.

Jason’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “It’s Bruce,” he said after a long pause, his voice raw. “We were handling this case—a trafficking ring. I had it handled, Y/N. I had it. But he pulled the plug on the whole thing because it didn’t fit his goddamn code.” His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. “There were kids involved, and he still chose the ‘moral high ground’ over what needed to be done. And then—” Jason’s voice broke, and he shook his head, his frustration giving way to something more fragile. “He looked at me like I was the problem. Like I was… too much again. Like I’m always too much.”

Y/N’s heart clenched as he took in the words, the quiet ache that laced Jason’s tone. It wasn’t just the case or Bruce’s stubbornness that hurt him—it was the way Bruce always seemed to find a way to make Jason feel like he’d never be enough, no matter what he did.

Y/N leaned in, his hand sliding up to the back of Jason’s neck, fingers gently massaging the tension there. “You’re not too much, Jay,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Not for me. Not for anyone who actually knows you.”

Jason didn’t respond, but the way he leaned into Y/N’s touch, his head bowing slightly, said more than words ever could.

An hour later, when a knock came at the door, Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. He stood, sighing as Jason stayed where he was on the couch, visibly tensing at the sound. Y/N opened the door to find Bruce standing there, in some more casual wear (if you could ever call Bruce’s “old money” aesthetic casual), his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Y/N,” Bruce greeted, his tone clipped. “I need to speak with Jason.”

Y/N didn’t move, his hand braced casually against the doorframe. “No, you don’t.”

Bruce blinked, clearly unused to being told no—and even less accustomed to hearing it so decisively. “It’s important.”

“Is someone dead or currently dying?”

The blunt, and sarcastic tone of his words, while it didn’t visually throw the billionaire off, Y/N could see Bruce was surprised by his tone. He didn’t know how, but he clocked the shift in his demeanor. Maybe he was picking up some skills from his boyfriend after all.

“No, but–”

“Then, it can wait,” Y/N said, his tone edge with a finality that left no room for question or pushback.  “He just came home, and I don’t think he needs you piling on more stress right now. Whatever you’ve got to say can wait.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This isn’t about stress. It’s about his actions tonight. He—”

“—did what he thought was right,” Y/N interrupted, his voice sharpening just slightly. “And from what he told me, he was right. You’re the one who undermined him and made him feel like he was a problem.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N stepped out into the hallway, lowering his voice but not his resolve. “Look, Mr. Wayne, I get that you care about him in your own… specific way. But if you want to keep him in your life, maybe stop treating him like he’s the black sheep who’ll never measure up to your perfect little code. Because right now? You’re the only one who can make him feel like this, and that’s not the kind of impact someone who ‘cares’ should have.”

Bruce’s face didn’t betray much, but Y/N caught the faint flicker of something—guilt, maybe—in his eyes. Still, he didn’t budge. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“No,” Y/N said calmly, stepping back into the apartment and beginning to close the door. “But it is for tonight. Goodnight, Mr. Wayne.”

With that, he shut the door, turning back to see Jason watching him from the couch, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“Did you really just tell Bruce Wayne to go home?” Jason asked, his lips twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smirk or shake his head.

“Damn right I did,” Y/N replied, crossing his arms with a small, satisfied huff. “And I’d do it again.”

Jason let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

“Please,” Y/N shot back with a roll of his eyes. “You act like it’s a big deal. Someone had to say it, and we both know you weren’t going to.” He paused, watching Jason closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And speaking of things you aren’t doing…”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his interest visibly piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Y/N leaned forward, tapping Jason’s knee with mock seriousness. “First, you’re going to get off this couch, because moping is not a good look for you. Then, you’re going to help me put away the laundry because I’ve been doing it all day while you were out being Mr. Broody Vigilante. And after that? You’re going to make us both something to eat, because I’m starving and I’m not lifting a finger tonight. You’ve got work to do, big guy.”

Jason blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression shifted into something darker, sharper. He cocked his head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, really?” he drawled, his tone low and deliberate as he sat up straighter. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, but he held his ground, leveling Jason with his best faux-bossy glare. “That’s exactly how it’s gonna be. So, get moving, Todd.”

Jason was on his feet before Y/N could blink, towering over him with that quiet, commanding energy that always sent a thrill down his spine. He didn’t say a word at first, just leaned down slightly, his eyes locked on Y/N’s like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You think you’re in charge now?” Jason asked softly, his voice deceptively calm. His hand brushed against Y/N’s jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of his cheek with deliberate slowness. “That’s cute.”

Y/N swallowed hard, refusing to back down even as Jason’s presence enveloped him. “Not cute,” he retorted, his voice wavering just slightly. “Efficient.”

Jason’s smirk widened, and in one swift motion, he scooped Y/N up from the couch, earning a startled yelp that quickly turned into laughter. “Efficient, huh?” Jason murmured, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he carried him toward the bedroom. “Let’s see how efficient you are at following orders, then. Because we both know who calls the shots here, don’t we?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, his breath hitching as Jason pinned him with that intense, unrelenting gaze. “Jason…” he started, but his boyfriend was already laying him down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore.

“You wanted me to focus on something else,” Jason murmured, leaning over him, his hands braced on either side of Y/N’s head. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ve got my full attention now.”

And just like that, Y/N’s carefully constructed plan to distract Jason had backfired spectacularly—not that he was complaining. If there was one thing Jason was good at, it was reminding him exactly who was in charge.

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or Dare,” his best friend asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as the group sat around in a circle during their weekly de-stresser game night. Of course, their version of game night had taken a more explicit turn—totally par for the course with this group.

“Um… truth,” Y/N said hesitantly, already sensing trouble.

“Oh, perfect,” Seth said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “Alright, Mr. L/N, the time has come for you to reveal your truth. Are you a bossy power bottom or a slutty, submissive one?”

The room erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps, with a couple of dramatic “oh my God” reactions thrown in for good measure. Y/N’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to form words. Before he could even start to defend himself, someone else chimed in.

“Bro, seriously? What kind of question is that?”

Y/N immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you—finally, someone gets it—”

But then came the follow-up.

“We all know there’s not a dominant bone in his body. If anything, it’s giving brat who likes to be put in his place.”

The room fell silent for half a beat before laughter exploded all around him, punctuated by a few dramatic “damn”s and someone nearly choking on their drink.

Y/N blinked, his brain short-circuiting as the betrayal sank in. “Excuse me?!” he finally managed, his voice high-pitched and offended as he pointed an accusing finger at the culprit.

“I dare you to try and tell me I’m lying,” His friend challenged him with a raised eyebrow. And when Y/N couldn’t formulate a defense for himself, his friend nodded his head knowingly, “Exactly as I thought.”

Because was he actually lying?

“I dare you to tell me I’m wrong,” his friend challenged, one eyebrow arched and a smug smirk tugging at their lips.

Y/N opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—just the faintest stutter of indignation as his brain scrambled for a defense that simply didn’t exist.

His friend nodded knowingly, leaning back with a triumphant grin. “Exactly what I thought.”

Because, honestly… were they even wrong?

Frankly, if you looked at their relationship as a whole, was it really that surprising?

Jason, in a nutshell, was all rough edges and a protective streak that could rival Fort Knox, but with a kind of intimacy that Y/N never saw coming. It was whiplash in the best way possible. One minute, he was Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante, and the next, he was softly murmuring sweet nothings while holding Y/N like he was the most fragile, precious thing on the planet. Y/N had once joked that Jason was like a human light switch—rough and dominant one moment, soft and needy the next. Now? It was just something he accepted… and secretly loved.

Because the roughness Jason brought into their bed was never just about dominance—it was about claiming. There were nights when Jason would grip Y/N’s hips like he was staking his territory, growling low in his ear as he worked Y/N’s body to the point of trembling. If Jason was feeling particularly territorial—or, as Y/N liked to put it, “possessive alpha wolf mode”—restraints were almost a guarantee. Y/N would be left tied up, squirming and gasping as Jason moved with a kind of intensity that left no room for doubt about who was in control.

And then, like clockwork, came the switch.

Imagine this: a six-foot-something mass of pure muscle and testosterone, who’d just spent the last hour absolutely wrecking Y/N—legs shaking, throat raw from moans that could probably be heard two apartments over—suddenly curling up beside him like the world’s biggest teddy bear. Jason would go from rough, grunting dominance, a man on a mission to leave Y/N marked and molded for days, to nuzzling into Y/N’s neck with soft kisses and quietly demanding to be held like he was the one who’d been put through the wringer.

It was absurd. Completely and utterly absurd. And Y/N? He let it happen every single time. No wonder Jason was so spoiled in their relationship.

What else was he supposed to do when Jason left him in a post-fuck haze so blissed out he couldn’t even remember what year it was? By the time Jason would return from cleaning him up, soft praise slipping from his lips as he gently wiped Y/N down, the fight had already left him. And honestly? Who was Y/N kidding—he didn’t want to fight it. Not when Jason would tuck him against his broad chest like they hadn’t just committed sins the mattress might never recover from.

But here was the kicker: for all the dominance Jason brought into their dynamic, Y/N knew the man craved the quiet moments afterward just as much—if not more. Those moments when Y/N’s hands would slide up into Jason’s hair, gently massaging his scalp, or trace over the faded scars on his chest like they were the most fascinating pieces of art. Jason wouldn’t say much—he didn’t need to. The way he sighed into Y/N’s touch, letting himself completely relax, said everything.

It was a ridiculous dance of give and take: Jason would obliterate Y/N’s body with enough intensity to leave him rethinking all his life choices, only to turn into the world’s biggest cuddle bug immediately after, soaking up every ounce of affection Y/N could give him. And as much as Y/N liked to complain about the whiplash, the truth was that he wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Because as much as Jason loved being the one in control, Y/N had him wrapped around his finger the moment his fingers slid into Jason’s hair, soothing away the world like only he could. It was a balance only they understood, and it worked in ways no one else could ever pull off.

But it wasn’t just in the bedroom where Jason’s attention shined. Y/N would often catch Jason’s gaze lingering at the most random moments, his blue-green eyes shamelessly raking over him like he was a five-course meal and Jason hadn’t eaten in weeks. Whether it was Y/N lounging around in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, running errands in shorts that rode up just a little too high, or even bundled up in the most unflattering hoodie he owned, Jason’s carnal desire never wavered. If anything, it intensified as their relationship deepened.

Jason didn’t even bother hiding it anymore. Y/N had long stopped being surprised by the firm smack on his ass whenever Jason walked by, followed by the satisfied grin his boyfriend would flash as if to say, Mine.

“Jason!” Y/N would shriek every time, a startled jump or yelp accompanying his protests. But the man never looked the least bit guilty. If anything, he’d double down, grabbing a handful and muttering something along the lines of, “Couldn’t help it,” or, “You’re teasing me.”

The truth? Jason had rules—categories, if you will—when it came to Y/N’s wardrobe. There were outfits Y/N could wear in public, outfits strictly for lounging at home, and then there were the "home only" outfits. And no, "home only" didn’t mean cute loungewear. It was a polite way of saying, for Jason’s eyes only.

“Babe, you’re not wearing that outside,” Jason had said once, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway as Y/N attempted to leave for the gym.

“It’s just a pair of shorts!” Y/N protested, gesturing down at the admittedly form-fitting gym wear that showcased his thighs just a little too well.

“Exactly,” Jason replied, his eyes narrowing. “Those are home shorts. You’re not walking into a gym full of thirsty people in that.”

“Jason, you’re being ridiculous,” Y/N huffed, crossing his arms.

“Maybe,” Jason said with a shrug, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Y/N’s waist. He leaned in, lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he added in a low voice, “But that doesn’t change anything, now go change..”

And that was that. Jason had an uncanny ability to make his tone very rigid and unyielding, leaving no room for argument which would have Y/N’s protests dying on his lips every time.

Then, there were the outfits Y/N didn’t even get to leave the house in—because they didn’t survive Jason. It had become a running joke between them, the sheer number of shirts, pants, and underwear Jason had destroyed in fits of possessive frustration. If something hugged Y/N’s figure a little too well, Jason didn’t bother holding back. Many an innocent shirt had been ripped clean down the middle, casualties of Jason giving in to his urges.

“Do you have any idea how much you cost me in clothes?” Y/N had grumbled once as Jason stood over him, shirtless and smirking like the devil himself.

Jason had only shrugged, pulling Y/N into his lap. “Then stop wearing stuff that teases me,” he murmured, his lips trailing along Y/N’s neck. “Or don’t. Gives me an excuse to buy you more.”

And buy he did. But let’s be real—certain clothes never lasted long in their relationship. Case in point? The time Y/N ordered a pair of shorts he’d been eyeing for weeks, fully aware that Jason would raise an eyebrow so high it’d disappear into his hairline. Still, in a moment of fuck it impulse, Y/N clicked "add to cart," setting the stage for the chaos to follow.

When the package arrived, Y/N pushed the door open with a huff, struggling to balance the various bags and boxes in his arms as he shuffled into the apartment. “Jason, can you help me?” he called, his voice slightly muffled as he tried not to drop anything.

Jason, sprawled on the couch and scrolling through his phone, glanced up. His eyebrows rose at the sight of his boyfriend buried beneath a mountain of shopping bags. “More clothes?” he asked, standing up and strolling over with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, more clothes,” Y/N shot back, setting his haul down on the kitchen counter. “You know, since someone has a habit of destroying half my wardrobe.”

Jason shrugged, entirely unbothered. “What can I say? Some of them deserved it.”

Rolling his eyes, Y/N began unpacking his bags, pulling out folded shirts, joggers, and a few items that were more… adventurous. As Jason retreated back to the couch, Y/N grabbed one of his new purchases and headed to the bathroom to try it on.

A few minutes later, Y/N emerged, ready to test the waters. He stepped into the living room, his expression smug as he strolled in wearing a pair of black shorts that barely qualified as clothing. The sheer mesh fabric, paired with slits running up the sides, left little—if anything—to the imagination.

Jason glanced up, and his relaxed posture evaporated. His gaze sharpened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darkened with a possessive glint. “Those,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “are not leaving this apartment.”

Y/N paused, glancing at Jason’s expression before looking down to examine the shorts. “What? These? Oh, come on, they’re gym shorts,” he said, smoothing the fabric over his thighs. “I can’t wait to test them out during leg day.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his gaze locked on Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re not wearing those to the gym.”

“Jason, don’t start,” Y/N said, stepping closer to the couch—his first mistake. Paired with the loose, cropped tank he was wearing, the look was downright scandalous. He twirled around playfully, flashing a cheeky grin. “See? They’re nice. Functional.”

Jason didn’t reply. He just sat there, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing as Y/N paraded around, pushing the limits. The tension between them was palpable, thickening with every second that Jason didn’t speak. And when Y/N cocked a hip and teased, “What? Don’t like them?”—that was the final straw.

Jason moved so fast Y/N barely registered it. In one fluid motion, he reached out, grabbing the shorts by one of the side slits and yanking hard. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, leaving Y/N stumbling forward with a gasp.

“Jason!” Y/N yelped, his voice equal parts indignation and shock. But before he could gather himself, Jason leaned back on the couch, effortlessly pulling Y/N into his lap. His hands gripped Y/N’s waist, holding him firmly in place as his legs were spread across Jason’s thighs.

“These,” Jason growled, his hands sliding down to Y/N’s exposed skin, “are home-only shorts. Got it?”

Y/N squirmed, pressing his hands against Jason’s chest in a weak attempt to push away. “Jason, you can’t just—”

Another sharp rip interrupted him as Jason’s rough fingers tore at the other slit, leaving the shorts hanging on by mere threads. Y/N gasped, heat rushing to his face as Jason’s hands roamed possessively, smoothing over his bare thighs with deliberate, firm strokes.

“What did I say?” Jason questioned, his voice a dangerous whisper that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “These are for my eyes only.”

Y/N’s protests dissolved into breathy whines as Jason’s hands tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. A sharp smack landed on Y/N’s rear, drawing a startled yelp, followed by another that left him gripping Jason’s shoulders for balance.

“Stop squirming,” Jason ordered, his tone firm and commanding as he leaned in, his face inches from Y/N’s. His dark gaze pinned Y/N in place as one hand slid to the back of his neck. “You know how this works, sweetheart. You push, I push back.”

Y/N bit his lip, his glare faltering under Jason’s intense stare. At some point, the defiance melted into submission, and their lips collided in a heated, desperate kiss. Jason’s hands never left Y/N’s body, gripping, claiming, and asserting dominance with every touch.

Before Y/N knew it, he was on his knees, Jason standing over him with his pants tugged low enough to reveal just how demanding he was. Y/N didn’t fight it—instead, he leaned into Jason’s command, eager to please the man who had thoroughly dismantled every ounce of his bravado.

By the end of it, Y/N was back on Jason’s lap, legs spread on either side as his body trembled with it being moved roughly up and down on the vigilante’s manhood, his own throbbing hardness rubbing against his boyfriend’s abs as Jason held him close. The only piece of clothing left between them were the shredded remains of the mesh shorts clinging to Y/N’s hips—barely.

Of course, Jason had to replace them with not one, but three new pairs after the fact. But he made it very clear they’d all meet the same fate if Y/N ever dared to wear them outside the apartment.

Did Y/N listen? Absolutely not. Because, let’s be real—he loved pissing Jason off. And honestly? Maybe the whole “brat who likes to be put in his place” thing wasn’t so far off after all.

And, of course, Jason wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons. He had his own arsenal of outfits that drove Y/N wild, and he wielded them with precision. Whether it was his compression gear that clung to his chest and arms in ways that made Y/N’s mouth go dry, or his Red Hood attire that practically screamed dominance, Jason loved to see the effect his clothing—or lack thereof—had on Y/N.

“You’re staring,” Jason had teased once, pulling his hoodie over his compression top in the middle of the gym.

Y/N, flustered and blatantly ogling, had tried to recover with a weak, “No, I wasn’t.”

Jason had chuckled, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You were. And I liked it.”

But the real chaos came in the bedroom. Jason, ever the tease, would sometimes refuse to take off his compression shirt or Red Hood pants during sex, fully aware of the primal side it brought out in Y/N.

“Stop, don’t take it off,” Y/N had panted once, his fingers gripping the slick, tight material as Jason tried to pull it over his head. “Leave it on.”

Jason had smirked, leaning down to kiss Y/N’s neck as he growled, “Anything you want, sweetheart.” He knew exactly what he was doing, letting Y/N’s hands wander over the material, the added friction driving him crazy in the best way.

Jason loved pulling that raw, uninhibited side out of Y/N. It was a side only he got to see, and he relished every second of it. Because while Jason loved being the one in control, he also loved seeing Y/N completely undone, lost in the moment with him.

It was, perhaps, a side effect of Jason’s deeply ingrained dominant nature—his unrelenting need to maintain a sense of control over his surroundings and the people within them. Did that mean he saw Y/N as something to control? Absolutely not. But Jason would be the first to admit that the urge to assert himself surfaced now and then. Fortunately, he had found a way to channel it into something far more productive, releasing it in moments of intimacy where it was not only welcomed but eagerly reciprocated.

And those moments of intimacy? They weren’t confined to the bedroom. Jason’s possessiveness bled into every aspect of their lives, a steady undercurrent to the way he loved. His need for control stemmed from a life filled with chaos, and Y/N understood that better than anyone. Whether it was the firm weight of Jason’s hand resting on the back of his neck during a particularly heated moment, or the low, growling reminders of exactly who Y/N belonged to, Jason’s message was always clear: he didn’t just love Y/N—he claimed him, body and soul.

Jason didn’t say much when Y/N walked into their apartment wearing the oversized hoodie. It was one of Jason’s, slightly frayed at the cuffs and just loose enough to drown Y/N’s smaller frame. The sight alone had Jason's lips twitching upward, his ego swelling with unspoken pride. There was something about Y/N wearing his clothes, especially in public, that hit Jason in a way he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t just the visual—it was the claim it represented, the quiet acknowledgment that Y/N was his, and he didn’t even need to say it out loud for the world to know.

“Isn’t this your hoodie?” Y/N asked casually, dropping his bag onto the floor as he walked past Jason toward the kitchen. He sounded innocent, completely unaware of the fire he’d just stoked. “I borrowed it to wear on campus today. It’s so comfy.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, his gaze trailing after Y/N like a predator tracking its prey. He could see how the fabric clung to Y/N’s shoulders and chest, the way the hem barely grazed the tops of his thighs. It was maddening. He let out a slow, measured breath, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s mine,” Jason finally said, his voice low but even.

Y/N hummed a little as he rummaged through the fridge. “Well, don’t expect to see it for a while. I’m keeping it.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his fingers tapping against the armrest of the couch. You’re keeping it, huh? The possessive part of his brain whispered promises of retribution, even as he outwardly played it cool. He waited, biding his time.

Later that night, Jason made his move.

Y/N barely had a chance to react before he found himself pinned beneath Jason on the mattress, the hoodie in question already shoved halfway up his torso. Jason’s massive frame hovered over him, his green-blue eyes blazing with a mix of heat and unrestrained hunger.

“You wore my hoodie,” Jason murmured, his voice husky and low, each word dripping with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

“Yeah,” Y/N managed to reply, his voice breathless as Jason’s hands slid beneath the fabric, rough palms grazing over his bare skin. “I… I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Jason smirked, leaning down until his lips brushed against Y/N’s ear. “I don’t mind, sweetheart,” he whispered. “In fact, I like it. But you should’ve known what that would do to me.”

Before Y/N could respond, Jason’s lips captured his in a searing kiss, stealing the air from his lungs. The hoodie bunched awkwardly around Y/N’s chest as Jason adjusted their positions, one hand pinning Y/N’s wrists above his head while the other roamed freely, kneading his thighs and gripping his waist.

Jason moved slowly at first, rocking his hips in a deliberate rhythm that had Y/N arching up into him. The friction of the hoodie’s fabric against their heated skin was intoxicating, Jason’s voice dropping into a growl as he murmured filthy words into Y/N’s ear.

“You wore this out in public,” Jason said, his voice dark and possessive as his hand slid up to gently grip Y/N’s throat. “Let everyone see you in my clothes. Do you know what that does to me? Huh? Knowing they all saw you like this, wearing something that smells like me?”

Y/N whimpered, his eyes glassy as he gazed up at Jason. His thighs trembled where they were pressed against Jason’s hips, every sharp thrust pulling more desperate sounds from his lips.

Jason tightened his grip slightly, just enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through Y/N without ever crossing the line. “Next time,” Jason growled, his pace rough and demanding now, “ask me first. Or better yet, let me put it on you myself. Because when you wear this, it’s not just a hoodie—it’s a mark. A reminder to everyone who you belong to.”

Y/N’s head lolled back against the pillow, his hands twisting beneath Jason’s unyielding grip. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, “Yours, Jason. I’m yours.”

That was all Jason needed. He buried himself deeper, his hand slipping from Y/N’s throat to cup his jaw as he captured his lips again. By the time they were both spent, the hoodie had become an even bigger mess—damp with sweat and stretched beyond repair. Jason lay beside Y/N, his chest rising and falling as he dragged a hand over the faint marks he’d left on Y/N’s neck.

“You’re not wearing this hoodie out again,” Jason murmured, his tone soft now, though no less firm.

Y/N let out a sleepy laugh, snuggling closer to Jason’s side. “Good thing you’ve got plenty more for me to borrow.”

Jason chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Y/N smirked, his eyes fluttering shut. “Not a chance.”

Jason let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling him closer. Because for all his possessiveness, all his need to dominate and claim, it was moments like this—holding Y/N close, feeling the steady beat of his heart—that reminded him what all of it was really for. Y/N couldn’t help but smile to, because no matter how overwhelming Jason’s love could be, it was also the safest place Y/N had ever known.

Yeah, their love really was like no other. Y/N could absolutely understand why people envied and praised their relationship—it was intense, chaotic, and tender all at once, the kind of connection that made rom-coms look bland by comparison. If he were in their shoes, he’d probably be gushing about it too. Hell, he already did, and he was living it.

But honestly? The next person who came up to him with the audacity to ask if Jason was single was about to catch hands. Y/N normally wasn’t the jealous one in their relationship as it’s been made clear—normally—but there were limits. And some people clearly didn’t know what those limits were.

Just ask that bitch, Xavion…

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[bamfkeeper]

NSFW Alphabet: Sabretooth

a/n: I know this is more a Nightcrawler focused blog, but I will still write a few other X-men characters just because. And since I did a SFW of Sabretooth, I wanted to do a NSFW one too. So here he is, in all his bloody glory. I was a little more vulgar in this one than in the Nightcrawler one, but it fit for this character. As mentioned in previous posts, I try to mix multiple depictions of the character so it's not just based on a single one. So I take inspiration from comics, shows, and films. I might revamp this later. I hope you enjoy <3

Minors DNI. 18+ below the cut.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Sabretooth doesn't exactly get the whole aftercare thing, I mean, he isn't really known for his gentle nature.

When you first get together and fool around, he probably is the type to fuck and leave, or make you leave. He's blunt; he straight up tells you when you're done to get out or he will leave your space. He treats sex almost like an animal, one purpose: to fuck and then he will go on his merry way.

However if you continue your little relationship, then he might slowly start to understand what to do. He isn't typical by any means. You will be left with claw marks and bites, and you will bleed. It's unavoidable, those claws and teeth? Come on.

He wouldn't treat them normally, but he would lick them, his saliva has an antiseptic aspect to it, so he is 'cleaning' your wounds that he left but in his own way. It might feel weird, but just let him do his thing. That's probably the closest he will get to being gentle anyway. If they are deep enough he might tend a little more but honestly he feels like he does enough by cleaning them with his tongue.

Sabretooth is also generally pretty happy with himself after sex. He would be calmed down a bit from his norm, because he satisfied something primal in his nature. This might be one of the only times you can convince him to lay still for a period of time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Sabretooth obviously loves his own claws, his weapon of choice on enemies and on you. He loves making you shiver when he drags them down your body with just enough pressure to make you squirm.

But he also has a big ego, so...he is pretty proud of his size.

He'd like your thighs and ass, kneading them like a cat and pawing at you every chance he got. He grabs your legs and loves how soft you feel, and he likes smacking your backside and watching his hips drill into you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Prepare for a lot of it. He is messy and doesn't give a shit about what kind of mess he makes. Inside, outside, doesn't matter to him. He likes to spread it around your face if he shoots his load onto you, or likes watching you open your mouth and show him what mess he made on your tongue.

Can't hate a good creampie either, he loves filling you up. It fulfills that need that burns in his groin every time you have sex. Every instinct screams at him to bury his cock against your cervix and blow his load directly into your womb.

Or he tries to push as far in your ass as he can, listening to you moan as he fills you up, the head of his dick brushing your g-spot perfectly.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He doesn't really have any secrets, he's fairly open about what he likes. But he does have a strong desire towards scents. He doesn't like super perfumed body wash or soaps, he likes the natural smell of things, so he would prefer non-scented soaps rather than the ones that smell sweet or strong.

He likes smelling your groin a lot, especially in the mornings when the scent is the strongest naturally. You always wake up and feel him tugging your legs open so he can smell you. It does typically lead to other things...

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He absolutely knows what he's doing. He's had plenty of partners in the past, so he knows just what to do in the bedroom.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Doggy feels most natural for him. He likes mounting you from behind and he can get a good grip on you when he's pounding into you. He also likes to bite on the back of your neck or your shoulder. Plus he always has a good view before he puts his dick on you.

Sometimes you ride him, gravity helps pull you down on his cock. But you don't get to ride him too often because he doesn't like being on his back for very long. He only has so much self control.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

He'll make jokes every now and then, but it's all with the dirty talk he gives you. It's all very intense, and he will tease you a lot.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He's a burly, hairy dude. So you can imagine how he looks down there, pretty untamed, not like that really matters. He doesn't see the point to shaving himself, unless you really, really wanted him to, he probably wouldn't ever do it on his own.

He has a hairy happy trail from his belly button that leads down to his pubic hair. His chest is hairy too, and you like to play with it and curl it around your fingers sometimes, which makes him roll his eyes but you do it anyway.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Sabretooth isn't romantic, he's more of a...let's fuck type of guy. His idea of romance is giving you a real, bloody heart torn straight out of an animal or person. And kissing you if he's all messy with blood from a hunt.

If you accept a lot of his habits, he might adapt and try to do something more typically romantic for you in return, or something that you'd see as romantic, whatever that may be. But don't expect him to completely change who he is to be a super romantic guy. And don't ever tell anyone if he does something like that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He probably doesn't masturbate a whole lot, he might when he's feeling real pent up, but why would he masturbate when he has you to take care of all his needs?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Sabretooth is pretty damn kinky, he isn't ashamed about any of his sexual desires and is open with you about them.

He obviously loves predator/prey dynamics, he likes to pretend to hunt you in the woods and when he catches you, he fucks you into the mossy ground. It gets his instincts going and he feels like his cock is on fire when he's hunting you. Plus the sex that comes from 'hunting' you is honestly some of the best you've had. Prey pet names for sure.

Breeding is a huge kink for him. He likes making a mess, but he prefers to bury himself into you and fill you up, regardless if you can get pregnant or not. He will pound multiple loads into you and won't stop until you are squirting it out around his cock.

BDSM is something that's interesting to him, though not every aspect of it. He's a pretty big sadist, so his claws and teeth will definitely mark you up all bloody and you'll be bruised from his hard grip on you thanks to his strength. He'd probably be into impact play, so he'd like to spank you while he's fucking you.

I think he might find bondage fun just because you'd be completely helpless and it can tie into the whole predator/prey play too. Like a little bunny caught in a snare and he stumbles upon you, helpless to the hungry big cat.

I think he probably would have a thing for housewife type of behavior, things that aren't inherently sexual but can turn him on. So cleaning and cooking, bringing him beer or food while he sits back, I don't know I just have a weird feeling he would be into that.

I also think he'd be interested in CNC. It's something that you'd have to talk heavily about, but I think it would be something he would want to try.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He's down to do it anywhere. He doesn't give a shit who hears or sees. But the bedroom is where you two can really let loose. He also likes doing it in the woods, he has a few spots he will take you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Being submissive around him or showing submissive behavior will catch his attention. The primal part of him picks up on all of that, so speaking to him without eye contact, or when he approaches slightly lowering your head are things he instantly picks up on.

I also think if you make yourself vulnerable on purpose around him, he'd definitely like that. If you display your belly or neck, like laying down or seeming careless if he gets close are things he would eye closely, since most of the people around him (human or mutant) tend to be extremely cautious.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Sabretooth wouldn't really be interested in 'making love.' He's a primal mutant. He would want to give in to all of his desires, and he would want whomever he's sleeping with to do the same.

I don't think he would be into someone who challenges his dominance either. He'd take it as an insult and it would trigger his aggression. I don't see him as being a bottom at all, but that's just my opinion. So he wouldn't have any desire to take that position.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He's going to be pretty selfish, and he absolutely prefers receiving. He loves looking down and seeing you try to take him all in your mouth. It turns him on more knowing you're trying your best but still can't fit all of him. He will tease you and talk dirty the entire time.

"Awe, what's the matter...am I too big for you? Can't fit all of me in that pretty mouth? Don't worry...I'll make it fit."

Prepare for a deepthroat and possible face fuck because he gets a little carried away.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Rough, fast, unforgiving. He might allow you a moment to adjust when he first penetrates you, but he hardly waits long. There is nothing stopping him from going full on wild mode.

He likes to watch you squirm as he pushes deeper and deeper, watching your little hole stretch around him as you whine. He swears he could cum just from listening to you and watching you struggle to fit him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He can actually cum pretty quick when he knows you're only going to get a few minutes to fuck, so he's down for a quickie, pretty much wherever.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Absolutely. He loves to experiment, especially if he discovers something he hasn't tried before, he'd want to try it out once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

He has enhanced stamina because of his mutation so...he can go for multiple rounds. His period to recover is practically nonexistent, thanks to that mutation.

He can also last a few minutes to much longer. It just depends, but he does prefer multiple rather than dragging out a single long orgasm.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He does not have any toys of his own, other than maybe a few BDSM items like rope or impact things. He doesn't care if his partner has any. In his mind, the toys couldn't compare to him so he could care less.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

A lot. Sabretooth is the king of teasing. He can be somewhat selfish, he will deny your orgasm just so when he finally allows you to cum, it feels like a huge wave washing over you rather than just a little jolt of pleasure. He will bring you up to the brink, but never push you over until he's ready for that to happen.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Sabretooth is loud, when he isn't dirty talking you, he is grunting, groaning, snarling. He makes animalistic noises rather than moaning or whining. He knows you like hearing him, so he will lean down and make those noises against your ear, while telling you how good you feel wrapped around his dick.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He purrs after he orgasms, he takes a moment to catch his breath and he will purr against you, but he catches himself before he does it for too long and acts like he wasn't.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Sabretooth is a BIG dude. So, obviously his dick is gonna be big. He's definitely a shower, but he grows a bit when erect.

Flaccid, his bulge is already big, so it can look intimidating before you even get his pants off. His ego always flares up when he sees how you look at his crotch.

Erect he looks near impossible to put into you, but somehow he fits. He's anywhere between 7.5-9 inches. He is girthy too, which is really what you feel when he fucks you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He has a high sex drive, he can fuck anytime, anywhere. He gets horny from hunting, killing, fighting, all of his instincts flare up and it triggers all of the good feelings in his brain.

Sabretooth would want to fuck a lot, he could do it multiple times a day if possible.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Instantly, he likes to chill out after he has sex. A beer or cigar, then he knocks out. He doesn't bother to shower half the time, so he just likes to kick back and relax.

He might take a shower upon request, but he will complain and grumble about it.

If you like to shower after sex, he would let you go on your own while he has his beer or cigar. He's large, so you and him in the shower together would be awkward and cramped, plus he likes to have a few minutes of space afterwards.

If you are wounded, aka clawed up, he will watch you while you sleep for a bit and then he will fall asleep.

His bed is very soft, it's adorned with furs, pelts, and a thin quilt as the comforter, so you tend to fall asleep after cleaning up.

If you lay on him after, he will run his claws along your back lazily, making you shiver. Knowing those claws to maim and mutilate, but they only graze your skin. It's a strangely gentle gesture that you never reject. He does this until he falls asleep.

Thanks for reading. <3

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover picture cropped from X-Men Origins Sabretooth #1 (2009)

[jonasgoonface]

my new (nsfw) comic Dogpile just started on Slipshine (costs a little money) with page updates every tuesday and thursday. It's a cyberpunk noire about fugitives hiding out in a rogue housing block that's gone full rent strike.

In a cruel coincidence of timing, yesterday (same day this comic dropped) Jolanta Brzeska's 2011 murder case was dismissed. She fought evictions and united tenants in Warsaw. Predatory landowners, having failed in both fear and litigation against organized tenants, had Jolanta assassinated. (But now they see her face on the streets more than ever before.) Anyways weird post. She, and tenant movement in Warsaw are a prevailing inspiration in this comic. you can't burn us all.

[stil-lindigo]

Comics Masterpost (organised by collection)

Please heed relevant content warnings on each post. Completed collections have physical and digital copies available for purchase on my store.

Soliloquy Down to Three [COMPLETED]

Soliloquy down to Three is an anthology of dark sapphic comics, all of which are a mix of both old and new inspiration. Its title is a line from 'craters', indicating that the phrase "I love you" manages to fit a whole monologue worth of feeling into three words.

The compiled version contains exclusive illustrations for each couple, as well as a secret ending to 'craters'.

1. fishing twine 2. hook, line and sinker (sequel to 'fishing twine) cw: suggestive imagery 3. RED cw: suggestive imagery, blood, murder with an axe 4. RED - epilogue cw: blood 5. patchwork canary cw: mouth + neck mutilation, blood 6. craters cw: implications of suicide

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

10PM [COMPLETED]

10pm is a collection of introspective comics that covers feelings of aimlessness, alienation and finding joy in creativity again. Its full title is "It's 10pm. Do you know who you are?" which is a twist on the old PSAs that used to play on American TVs reminding parents to check up on their children.

1. the parade

2. the elevator

3. the machine

4. the candle

5. the stone

6. the dredger

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

Hearteaters [COMPLETED]

Heart-eaters is an anthology about the ugliest, gory-est, most heartfelt and most brutal parts of love. Sitting at a whopping 180 pages, Heart-eaters is the longest anthology I've made yet, and took over a year to finish in full.

The compiled books available for purchase on my store contain an exclusive joint-comic to "Shallow Grave" and poem named "Laozi's bowl", as well as 9 original full-page art splashes unique to their assigned stories.

1. the sunset cw: gun violence, death, blood 2. the calamity cw: eye scarring, blood, eye mutilation, gore (minimal) 3. seeing clearer (epilogue to 'the calamity') cw: biblical references 4. shallow grave cw: gravestone imagery 5. bite of winter (joint comic to 'scorched earth') cw: gore, blood, death, cannibalism, dismemberment 6. scorched earth (joint comic to 'bite of winter') cw: blood, death, burning alive, beheading 7. ashes to ashes (prequel comic to 'scorched earth') 8. little dove (prequel comic to 'scorched earth') 9. warmth 10. the fox god cw: emotional manipulation, animal abuse 11. the fields cw: blood, animal death, mild gore and blood

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[velvet4510]

Cherik / Dadneto fic rec

I’d like to single out a particular piece of fanfiction to recommend.

If you’re into Cherik and Dadneto, I’d like to draw your attention to a fic that has my vote for the best X-Men: Apocalypse fix-it fic ever, and one of the greatest Cherik and Dadneto fics ever:

Beautiful Dreamer by WaxRhapsodic

AUTHOR’S SUMMARY:

What if Erik came back of his own free will following the scene in the woods? What if he had reason to?

MY SUMMARY (with a few more details):

Magda is still killed in the woods but Nina survives. Erik and Nina flee Poland and seek refuge at the mansion, which leads to Erik fighting En Sabah Nur on the X-Men’s side from the getgo. After En Sabah Nur’s defeat, families are found and formed. Erik learns the truth about Peter. Nina meets and bonds with Charles, Peter, and Wanda. Charles fails to make a relationship with Moira work. Hank helps Raven find out whether Kurt is really her son. Erik’s children unknowingly help him and Charles realize their true feelings for one another. David Haller gets a new origin story as Cherik’s son. This has a happy ending.

REVIEW:

I included this fic in a recently-posted list of fic recs, but I wanted to single this out for praise because it’s the one and only version of the events of X-Men: Apocalypse that I accept within my mind - it’s so great that I like to imagine it as one of the infinite alternate universes.

This fic has some of the most incredible character and relationship development you’ll ever read. Charles, Erik, Nina, Peter, Wanda, Jean, Raven, Hank, Kurt, and Moira are all given moments to shine, and all of their many relationships are developed and explored in the most fun and most heartwarming ways. It’s honestly been an inspiration to me in my own writing endeavors.

My favorite thing about it is how it makes Nina an actual character. She is saved from the refrigerator and given the most lovable personality, and her thoughts, feelings, and powers are all explored and developed. A lot of focus is put on her close bond with her papa, as well as her journey in developing new relationships with the siblings she never knew she had and a new friendship with Jean. We get to see more of what makes her tick, and how her powers work. Her presence at the school basically allows everything to unfold the way we all wish it had, from Peter telling Erik the truth to the endgame Cherik. It also develops a beautiful stepfather-stepdaughter relationship between Charles and Nina that is downright soul-soothing to read.

This fic is basically 90% fluff, with many funny and heartwarming scenes where Nina and her siblings cause mischief, much to the adults’ exasperation, and Charles and Erik fall more and more in love. There’s a bit of angst with regard to Magda’s and Alex’s deaths, as well as Raven and Kurt’s struggle to deal with the truth about their relationship.

This fic also includes past Erik/Magda and a minor bit of Charles/Moira, which ultimately only serve as foundations for a slow-burn Cherik that is developed from the interpretation that they never acted on, or even realized their true feelings for each other prior to En Sabah Nur’s defeat. (Btw, this leads to a few scenes that will probably please Moira MacTaggert haters.)

There’s also some sweet Hank/Raven moments, and a few comical background hints of Ororo/Peter. Some fun Wanda & Peter one-on-one sibling moments, and an entertaining rivalry between Peter & Kurt. Plus some special cameo appearances by Lorna Dane and Piotr & Illyana Rasputin.

And in the latter half, there is a VERY unique new origin story given to the character we know as David Haller. It’s not technically mpreg - it’s way more wacky and creative than that.

(One possibly-controversial choice the fic makes is its depiction of the consequences of Charles’ mind meld with En Sabah Nur. Charles has absorbed some of the ancient mutant’s power and as a result, his spine is healed and he is able to walk again, and he begins to develop a few secondary powers that he didn’t have before. So I wouldn’t recommend this if you’re staunchly against fics that cure Charles’ disability - but I also hope you’ll still give this one a chance because it doesn’t put a ton of focus on the subject, it’s just mentioned a few times.)

I find myself turning to this fic often, whenever I’m in need of some good Cherik and Dadneto content. It single-handedly enabled me to carve out a space in my multiversal headcanons for Nina Gurzsky to exist and thrive - despite my unending hatred for the actual Apocalypse movie. That’s no small feat, let me tell ya.

WaxRhapsodic doesn’t seem to go by that name on this site, if they’re on it at all. I haven’t found them on here yet - but wherever you are, bravo for creating a masterpiece!!!

I’d love for anyone who is already familiar with this fic to maybe leave me a few notes with their thoughts on it! I know I can’t possibly be the only fan of this work.

Believe me, you don’t wanna miss this fic, my fellow Cherik and Dadneto fans. Check it out! @cherikdogfood @wishchip106 @cherikfics @miharu87 @ptatas77 @uniquecellest @sinspirefly @star-lights-up @cherikyes @dadneto-and-professor-ex @dadneto @dadnetolokiusobsessed @cherikschessboard @stuckysimp @caramelc0rgi

[shepscapades]

TANGO + CO.

This is an extension of the DBHC Masterpost.

The links below contain art relevant to these characters and their narrative, but it's possible they show up in posts in other character-specific sections or in posts that have many characters or collections of doodles (found in the "Other Drawings" section). I will do my best to update these extensions of the Masterpost with every new major post I publish, so feel free to keep checking this original post (not reblogs, which will not retain edits) for new content!

As mentioned in the base Masterpost, the below links are organized in NARRATIVE CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER, not by the order in which they were posted/published. ♪ = This symbol next to any of the links below refers to posts or drawings that were made inspired by music (in most cases, music from dbhc characters’ playlists)!

POST LIST

[The Official Tango Reference]

Indentations separated by Season!

[x] Introducing TGTK [x] Tango Makes For a Perfect Strider! [x] Last Life Ethubs that isn't really about Last Life Ethubs [x] Last Life Ethubs comic explained! [ask ramble] [x] ♪ Weight of the World Last Life Rage [x] ♪ Moon Waltz Season 8 Finale Spotify Drawings [x] Tango’s Double Life Ranchers Rage [x] Jimmy Could Fix Him (No He Couldn’t) [x] Jimmy Forgives Tango For Burning Him [x] Squish Jimmy’s Face <3

[x] Doc has his hands full with S9 Tango </3

[etheralisi]

I’m not planning on a third soon, but hey, who knows. Whenever inspiration strikes, right? Anyway, here’s part 2 of Rottmnt fake posting. 

Find part 1 here  and 3+3.5 here

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Yea the Earth is flat. What’s my proof you ask? Everything is flat.

#I keep trying to tell you all #It’s a 2D world and we’re all just living in it. #But do you listen? Nooooo

126 notes

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

YOU WILL HAVE MY BROWNIE RECIPE OVER MY DEAD BODY

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Then why don’t I have your recipe?

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

… I’M PAYING FOR YOUR THERAPY

13 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Do not teleport mid sneeze

It is not a good idea

Sincerely with regret, me

🌫️mistyme Follow

… okay???

🌼i-eat-plastic-flowers Follow

Tp in what game again?

63 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

2k into a Lou Jitsu Jupiter Jim crossover fic and I’m shutting the tab because he would not say that

I knew that summary was too good to be true

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Shocking. You read?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Look, it was a pod fic but still

372 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

HOT

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

SOUUUP

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

SOUUUUUUUUP!!!!!

🏒 HOCKEYORDEATH Follow

CROSS BUNS

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

HOT SOOOUUUUPPPPPPPPPPP

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Someone misunderstood the assignment 

578 notes

thehibernator said: What happened to your Ghostbear sideblog?

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Red doesn’t like to talk about it 

#Nine times out of ten your heroes want to kill you #One out of ten and they turn out to be your dad #Yeah GB is still cool but it’s complicated 

56 notes

👥shadow-slunk Follow

Out of ten how drunk were you last night? Drunk enough to hallucinate a dancing bull in a suit next question 

8,965 notes

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Tried apple pie for the first time today

100/10

👺noomenisgood Follow

Where were you eating rats????

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

In the caves 

107 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Yes Atomic Lass I am single

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Can you not

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

No one asked you to be here

43 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Update: Purple has blocked me again

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Everyone spam his inbox in my absence. It’s what I would have wanted 

#revenge is a dish best served blue

22 notes

🐢daily-turtle-appreciation-blog Follow

I love turtles

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

And they love you ♡

695 notes

🦵kick-back Follow

If no one has ever seen the seven deadly vipers move in action, how do we even know it exists?

🚀jj-sails Follow

You take that back

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Oh it exits alright

#🤫

3,399 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Word on the street is that Purple Game 3 will be released soon.

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Purple no

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Purple yes.

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Have you learned nothing????

86 notes

wise-girl said: You’re a doctor?

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Yes. Here’s my PHD

532 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Does anyone have another good website for buying Lou Jitsu comics in print? Jitsujungle shut down and I still need to restock my collection 

15 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Daily reminder to double check your vehicle for stowaway wizards. They get everywhere

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

He lives with us now

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

He gives warm fuzzy hugs

481 notes

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

Guess who got fired again

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Me

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

The kitchen is burning 

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Send help

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

The what is burning??!?!!

#you are banned #you hear me #banned #square up blue

60 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

DNI if you are a beach ball. This is a beach ball free zone. Any beach balls will be blocked on sight 

#not science posting #I may be hilarious but I am not joking

134 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

The second I get my hands on uranium it’s over for everyone

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

That’s the third time you’ve posted this this week. 

It’s Tuesday 

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

And it’s true. 

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

This is meant to convince us to let you have uranium how?

97 notes

📋klipt Follow

Wouldn’t it be sick if New York had its own real life super heroes? 

#I used to love reading Silver Sentry comics as a kid #please please tell me those lights are superheroes 

688 notes

🌰that-old-chestnut Follow

Since everyone is discussing superheroes lately, why don’t we bring this old gem back? Reblog this with your chosen superpower. Then someone else will reblog that with a terrible side effect

👑titanity Follow

I can teleport!

🍗are-you-chicken Follow

You have no control over where you’ll end up. Want to visit the Bahamas? Too bad, you’re in some back alley in New Jersey. Have fun

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

#blue

9,763 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Nooooo. My Duolingo streak

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

It’s over. It’s all over. The end of the world you could say

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Ah. Sorry.

10 notes

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Making a cat sculpture out of ice cream is fun in theory 

#my hands are cold cold cold #very bad idea #but if she’s not cold she will melt

207 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Thought I saw my sleep paralysis demon. Turns out it was purple trying to steal my blood.

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

On second thought, yeah. That’s my sleep paralysis demon.

341 notes

cheesecrust said: is @ bluejitsu really your brother?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Who?

#purplebox #though this is none of your concern

85 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

New York, what a town.

1,250 notes

[somerandomdudelmao]

It's Cass appreciation time!!! Don't get me wrong, I think we all appreciate you exactly all the time, but I wanted to write it out because I'm filled with SO MUCH LOVE RIGHT NOW THAT I PHYSICALLY CAN'T CONTAIN IT.

So!

First and foremost, I think you're a wonderful person. I may not know you personally, but the way in which you go about things - not just in your comic, but the way you interact with people - just leaves me in awe. You're so gentle but in the most chaotic way possible, and it makes me so happy to be alive. You're supportive of people and the things they create, while also just... spreading the joys of not just the fandom, but so many other things too. You're one of the people on here that unites the fandom as a whole, and it's so inspiring! You bring so much love here, and I admire that about you.

Another thing that I admire is that you know what your limits are and that you take care of yourself. I see so many people these days who don't - some who just forget, some who don't realize they're doing it, and others who blatantly refuse to do so - and it's frustrating to see. I want to help them (aka: wrap them in a blanket burrito to protect them from the world, offer coping skills, give them the support they need- the list goes on), but I can't really do much of that without burning myself out. Which is why I love to see you take care of yourself - whenever I see those asks that are like "reminder to drink water / rest / take a break", it reminds me that I need to do it too, and I'm positive that it reminds others as well. That, and it's refreshing to see!

I also love how creative and spontaneous you are! The plots you come up with, as well as the characterization and overall flow of the story - not to mention the PERFECT amount of fluff and angst you give us (WITH THE PROMISE OF A HAPPY ENDING??? OH MY GOD)- leaves me floored every time! I don't know a whole lot about writing and portraying things, but I've learned a bunch just by what you do. LETS ALSO REMEMBER ALL THE SMALL DETAILS YOU PUT INTO THIS - THE PARALLELS, THE LITTLE SHOWS OF AFFECTION,AND JUST- EVERYTHING??? GHDBDKDBSJ

AHH!

You inspire me to create, and whenever I have the confidence to post what I'm working on, I'll be sure to tag you (bc all of it is related to your comic)!

I have so much to say, but not nearly enough words to fully express it! But this is also getting much longer than I thought it would, and as much as I want to sing you praises all day, there's not enough time. So to wrap this up:

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all that you do. I'm sure it's not easy - you're a whole person outside of this, and everyone has bad days - so, again, thank you. I may not know you personally, but I still care a great deal about you. Please keep taking care of yourself! Drink some water, have a snack, take a nap, make some time for yourself - whatever it is, have a fantastic time hon. You deserve it.

Keep being amazing, and I wish you the best!

Until next time, dearie ^-^

Oh god I don't even know what to say jcdtujdsukcdhb thank you yhank you thank you so much you just brightened my day I

[ancha-aus]

Double Trouble... switched?

A tiny little thing for a lovely artist who's comics and art brings me much joy and inspiration.

Inspired by the lovely: @somegrumpynerd

And specifically this post, and this comic :3

Have fun :D

Warning, Very unedited and just me having fun ;P

(also most work was actually finding the posts to make the links work now enjoy this fanfic of which I will admit it took a few hours but I will not tell you how many words as I got no idea. Because I wrote the whole thing on tumblr and got no word counter here. Enjoy :D)

.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dream knew something was wrong the moment he woke up.

His magic... it was being prickled by something. Over and over and over. It felt a bit like the sting of negativity but different.

That can't be right.

Drema struggled to full awareness as his mind tried to think of the reason why he felt the way he did.

Normally he only felt these type of prinkles and pain when he was near a lot of negativity but it had to be a lot a lot. As in, Nightmare using his own aura to fight him a lot.

But as he used his own magic of empathy he only felt a soft contentment and easy happiness in the air.

Had... Had the fight with Nightmare have afteraffects after all?!

They last fight, the one of the day before, had left Dream drained and tired. Nightmare and him had been fighting and Dream had tried to use his aura to get Nightmare to stay still and listen to him. Dream hadn't expected Nightmare to use his own magic aura. More surprising had been the fact that Nightmare's aura didn't clash with his own but instead reached him. It had burned and as Dream had said, he felt drained afterwards.

Dream hadn't thought too much off it. Especially as Nightmare had seemed exhausted and confused by it as well and he had quickly retreated afterwards.

But maybe Dream had been wrong.

Why else would he still feel this discomfort when there was nothing but positivity around him?

Dream groans as he finally manages to sit up in the very soft bed with many many pillows. Weird, Dream didn't have this many pillows on his bed and neither does Blue. Maybe Ink painted some more for them? Thoguth Ink rarely joined in on their sleepovers and Dream can't remember seeing Ink the day before.

Worse is that he feels disbalanced. Nothing feels right at the moment and the discomfort is making him cranky. He should just find Blue. Blue always makes everything better and has great ideas on what to try.

Yes, his best friend will help.

Dream opens his sockets only to stare in shock.

This... is not his room.

It isn't any room he recognizes.

It is a large beautiful place with a large, very large, bed with way too many pillows and soft blankets. There is a large bookcase just filled with books. The curtains are dark and shut. Next to him is a tiny alarm clock which reads that it is still very early in the morning.

Something else about his vision is off but Dream can't quite place it. Something that should be obvious but he can't make sense of it. He turns to the side and reaches for the bed only to freeze.

That is corruption. On his hand. And arm.

Dream feels himself start to panic as his soul pulses fast. Oh no. Oh no. What happened?! Calm down. Calm down-

Then he sees one of those corruption tentacles nad Dream flinches away, only to completely loose his balance and fall over sideways with a quiet yelp.

He lays frozen but can't feel any curiosity or hear anyone react.

He is starting to have an idea where he is and he isn't sure how to feel about this.

He slowly crawls to the side of the bed, only to keep misjudging the distance and he thinks he lost his depth perception which isn't good news.

He manages to get out of bed and only slightly panics at the sight of his own legs covered in corruption. Are it his own legs even?!

Dream pushes himself upright only almost fall over and he has to grab one of the poles of the large four poster bed to catch himself. He looks over his shoulder and is confronted with the sight of four tentacles shifting and idling behind him, all seemingly coming from his own back.

Dream takes a few unsteady steps and softly curses the way this feels. How does Nightmare DEAL with his tentacles?! How does he deal with the extra weight of it on his spine?! Dream already feels uncomfortable.

Dream manages to get to one of the two doors and opens it. He lets out a sigh of relieve when sees the bathroom. He flicks on the ligth in the room and manages to get to the mirror.

There in the mirror stands Nightmare. Staring at him in absolute shock.

Dream... Is in Nightmare's body.

Which means.

He is not at home.

Dream is in Nightmare's home.

-------

Nightmare tries to walk wiht confidence but it still takes effort to not overbalance for his lacking extra limbs.

When he woke up feeling comfortable and energised he had immediantly panic. He normally only felt that after they managed to make an universe fall fully into negativity and shift the balance.

Feeling that at home meant his boys felt unhappy and miserable and he would not have that.

Imagion his surprise when he sat up only to be in a completely different room and after a glance outside to realise he was in the Omega Timeline.

The one place he never had managed to get somekind of access too.

Nightmare wanted out right now because it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened.

Dream's and his magic had interacted strangly and connected with each other. Both had felt drained. Now Nightmare was in Dream's body.

Meaning, Dream was most likely in Nightmare's body. Meaning Dream was in Nightmare's hideout with his boys.

Nightmare didn't have time to panic or to have a crisis. He needed to somehow get to his own body and make them switch back. His minions needed constant supervision and management. Nightmare only just got Dust to agree to set an alarm clock and Horror had been improving with overeating.

He needed to get to them.

Which meant.

Be the perfect Dream so no one would think something was wrong and enable him to sneak out and search for himself.

This is starting to get annoying.

Nightmare had gotten dressed in Dream's clothes and got ready to leave.

Only for Blue to have shown up.

Which is what brought Nightmare to were he was now. Trying and struggling to maintain a facade he hadn't had time to prepare.

"You sure you are okay Dream?" Blue keeps staring at him as if he expects Nightmare to just spill the beans.

Wait. Does Dream do that? Does Dream just tell Blue everything? Probably right? But what do they normally talk about?

Nightmare is honestly unsure what it is that is between his brother and Blue. Nightmare knows that Blue and Dream are always together and Dream seems rather protective about Blue.

Nightmare realises he is taking too long to answer and puffs up his chest and speaks, being thankful for the small amount of luck there is for him in this multiverse that the voice he speaks with still sounds like Dream "Of course I am alright! It is a wonderful day and I want to spend it heloing others!" Dream and his ever need to please people and be liked.

Blue continues to grin at him, one brow slightly raised "Wowie! you are in a good mood today! Happy to hear you seem alright after the fight from yesterday."

Nightmare nods "But of course! Now! Lets get to work." and he starts walking. Only slightly falling fore over as he tries to balance for soemthign that isn't there.

"Dream!" Blue is by his side and tries to help him upright. The worry around him is slightly surprising.

Nightmare holds up a hand as he tries, and succeeds to steady himself. Old memories return of how to walk without his tendrils. He got this. "I am fine. Just a slight misstep... shall we?" Wait, how does Dream speak anyone? All the interactions Nightmare can remember were from them in battle. Which Ngihtmare knows is not a good reference for when you speak casually with others. The last interactions that Nightmare had with Dream wihtout fighting were... were from back at the tree... when both had been 6 and before their magical growth.

...

Ngihtmare doubts Dream still acts as his six year old self, even if he sometimes seems just as naiev to the world.

Blue frowns at him "If you are sure. You sure you want to go out already?"

Nightmare nods "But of course!"

Blue gives him another grin "Well. If you are sure. Let's go!"

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

Dream doesn't know what to do or say.

What do you say to your enemies when you are suddenly in their boss's body, who happens to be your twin. like. How do you decide what to say?

Dream tries to remain quiet and just watch. That is probabyl what Ngihtmare does right? Just watch and glare and tell them to not bother him?

Their happiness is burning him. That he has realised.

Dream had wanted to tell them he is going to take a moment for himself but then second guessed himself. How much would Nightmare tell them? Would he tell them that their happiness burns him? Would he be honest? Would he even tell them? Or would he just stand up and leave? Were those four expecting him to give them orders? To tell them what to do? Or would a simple 'go do your work' do?

Drema had never realised that positivity burned his brother this badly.

Did... did that mean that being around Dream burned him as well? That going near him at all in battle was as if he was being burned?

Dream knows his aura can get... a lot. but... He never considered... He never thought...

Only extreme negativity hurt Dream and all positivity energised and powered him...

If low levels of positivity already hurt his brother... would only extreme levels of negativity energise him? Would only extreme levels feed him?

Was... was Nightmare attacking AUs not as much an attack on the multiverse but more of a way to feed himself? To keep himself alive?

Dream just... didn't know.

"Boss! boss! what do you think? Awesome right!"

Dream eneds a moment to realise Killer is talking to him. Dream looks over and freezes at the knife Killer is tapping between his phalanges with a concerning speed.

Dream sits there frozen before panic overtakes his soul "What do you think you are doing?! Stop that right now before you hurt yourself!" only to realise that he spoke form panic and worry. Oh no he totally messed up! Dream wasn't thinking and-

Killer pouts but lays the knife down. Horror snorts "Told you boss would be unimpressed and mad at you for practising that."

Killer mutters something about it being cool and Nightmare just being a worrywart.

Dream blinks. Excuse but Nightmare is a what now?

Cross looks at him "What is the schedule for today boss?"

Killer snorts and copies the sentence at a softer volume but in a sillier voice.

Dream can't imagine that would be allowed but before he can even think of a fitting reaction or answer one of Nightmare's tentacles moves over to Killer's skull and gives him a soft tap.

Dream feels mortified. What do you mean those tendrils just... do that?! Dream hadn't even thought or considered that! Wait... Was... Was the corruption still negativity and so technically Nightmare... Was it like a muscle memory and so instinct for his body to do that? That implies that Nightmare has done that a lot.

Killer pouts more and crosses his arms befroe he mumbles "Fine fine. I get it. I get it. Sorry Crossy."

Crossy beams and the happiness stings Dream as Cross answers "Apology accepted!" then Cross looks at him with bright sockets "But what will we do today boss?"

Dream glances around the room as he tries to think of something that would fit. He has no idea what Nightmare does when he isn't out fighting him. Dream remembers the books in Ngihtmare's bedroom but Dream doesn't want to lock himself in there. He will go insane and just not know what to do. He needs an excuse to search around the castle. Something that will fit with their vision of Nightmare.

"I... need to... research a few things for our next... raid." Dream tries to desperately remember what Nightmare sounded like and which words he used. Dream thinks his lucky stars that Nightmare's body still sounds like Nightmare.

Cross nods "okay! Need our help with anything?"

Dream slowly shakes his skull as he tries to follow their emotions to see if he is managing to sell this. "No. I should have what I need." Okay, good so far, now how to say he will get them if he needs help. euh... "If I have need... of you. I know where to find you." That should work... right?

Killer nods as he is already out of the room and gone with a shout "Going to the cats!"

What does he mean CATS?!

Cross nods "Okay! in your office?"

office? office! An office will no doubt have information that will hopefully help Dream. Dream nods as anwer and Cross seems to accept it before he goes around grabbing the plates.

Horror asks him if he wants lunch together or brought up and Dream can feel the stress rise. damnit why are these four so focussed on Nightmare? They turn to him for everything! It makes Dream miss Blue. Blue knows what to do when and helps him more than anything.

Dream ends up saying together. Seeing as they straight up called and pulled him over for breakfast that is probably the go to. Horror seems pleased by this and nods as he starts cleaning the food in a careful manner.

Dust has just been staring at him with a frown on his face.

Dream stares back and feels the need to look away but Nightmare wouldn't look away. Dream waits and waits.

Dust huffs before leaving wihtout much of a word. Dream will take that as a win.

Dream leaves the kitchen and sees Dust disappear into another room, Dream can hear the sounds of a tv coming from there and will assume Killer is in there.

Okay... Now...

Where the hell is everything? He has no idea what the layout is of this place and it was pure luck he even found the staircase that morning to begin with.

He makes his way back to the staircase and follows it up. He makes sure he isn't watched or followed before starting to silently open doors to check what is behind each one.

Why did his brother have to be dramatic and get a castle?!

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

Nightmare hates this.

His cheeks are starting to hurt from the constant smiling. It is emotionally and mentally exhausting to be happy all the time. No one leaves him alone and everyone seems to have something they very pressingly need Dream's help for.

Which. Meant you. Are not important things!!

Dream needs a better work/home balance and learn to say no.

Nightmare can't even just return to the house that is, probably, Dream's and just hide for a moment because Blue has been by his side the whole time.

Nightmare will admit he is starting to get why Dream likes Blue so much adn seems so protective of him. Blue is a beacon of positive energy and motivation. Blue also seems happy to help Dream with anything and everything.

Honestly at this point Blue is the only reason why Ngihtmare hasn't started losing his mind at Dream just yet.

Everyone around him. the whole time. noise or people and their emotions. the pressure of everyone looking at him and trying to get his help. The amount of people trying to just stand next to him and soak up some of that positive aura is disgusting.

Nightmare has half the mind to kidnape his twin just to make sure that he knows he can actually say 'No' and tell people to piss off because it is starting to get concerning.

Nightmare hasn't had the impulse to throw this many people through windows in a while.

One more person from somekind of universe runs up to him "Dream Dream! I need your help!"

Nightmare has to take a very deep breath as he tries to control his temper. easy and calm. easy and calm. He manages to pull the smile back full force and turns to them "But of course! Happy to help. What do you need help with?"

The person smiles "Well! I wanted to do my grocerries but I ended up not going because I was watching this movie and it was jsut so good! Anyway. Would you mind doing my grocerries for me?"

Deep breaths Nightmare. Deep breaths.

The person continues on "The next part just started and I also really want to see that but by the time that one finishes the store will be closed!"

Deep. Breaths.

They continue the smile "And obviously I will pay you back later but-"

"No."

they blink. Nightmare stares back.

They frown "Waht? Why not?"

Nightmare honestly tries to keep it in but why would he? This is an idiot and they deserve to know "Because this is a result of your own neglect of your responsibilities and I don't see why it would then be up to me to fix this. Especially as you yourself still have the chance to do it yourself. But instead you are trying to use me and get an easy out. Not only that but you are also asking me to pay for this?"

The slowly cross their arms "You enver minded before..."

Anger. Rage. Nightmare manages to just stare "Well I mind now. Do it yourself. If you are adult enough to live on your own wihtout supervision you should be able to take care of yourself." Nightmare turns and walks away.

The person is enraged at him and Nightmare feels very smug about it. The person shouts after him "You are being a real asshole there Dream! And very selfish!"

Ngihtmare just keeps walking. don't commit murder in Dream's body. that is a very sure way to get others to notice you are not him.

Blue still walks with him and Nightmare glares "What?"

Blue blinks and tilts his skull "I am just happy you are finally starting to take my advice to not help everyone with everything. You gotta limit yourself or get burned out." Blue stops him and stares at him worried "Are you finally ready to tell me what is wrong Dream? I am worried about you..."

Nightmare considers what to say before sighing "I need a break." weak. Nightmare just, can't handle this. The constant demands and people asking him to do things. It is different with his boys. the real happiness they feel for him may sting slightly but it is real. The happiness of these people. It just isn't truly on that same level. There is no actual affection or care or even understanding behind it. It is about possession and demand and feeling like they earned it.

While they earned nothing.

How does Dream deal with them?

Blue nods "Yeah. Lets go to my place. People are less likely to bother you there. and If anyone asks I will just tell them you are sick."

Nightmare stares at Blue "I don't get sick. I can't get sick."

Blue snorts "Dream. The only three people in the whole multiverse that know that are, you, your twin, and me. If anyone asks we tell them you are sick." and he grins.

Ngihtmare stares at Blue for a moment "You are the only being in the multiverse with a functioning brain."

Blue snorts and laughs "Nightmare will be happy to hear you say that Dream." and he grins widely.

Nightmare snorts himself, a little inside joke just for him, "I know what I said."

They manage to find Core for a ride. Ngihtmare is relieved by that as he hasn't quite figured out how Dream makes portals just yet. Luckily Blue had decided for him that they would catch a ride instead of trying one themselves.

-----------

Dream reads through another report on the changes and shifts in the balance between positivity and negativity. another one that Dream had thought had been an attack agaisnt the multiverse but instead this report spoke about the high positivity levels making the universe unstable and them having to shift it.

The report speaks of a mild success and mentions a message to Error that this universe could be skipped for destruction for a while as they had managed to make it stable enough to last it a bit longer.

So many reports. So many universe which had been unbalanced.

Compared to all the reports Drema had read until now only about 10% spoke about getting higher negativity levels for Nightmare or getting supplies in a raid.

Everything else? All about universes that needed rebalancing and a shift in the right direction to keep them stable.

Dream leans back in the chair and yelps as the tendrils ache. He looks up adn groans as he sees the tentacles once again completely braided together. He doesn't want to have to try to undo it again and-

"Sup Boss!"

Oh are you kidding him?!

Dream had thought the people in the Omega timeline could be pushy or clingy. But it is nothing on these four. They just. Keep showing up!

It is like they are taking shifts! Dream manages to get one out and a new one will show up within 15 minutes.

Dream sighs and looks up "Waht do you want this time you. you..." you... you... Dream doesn't want to be mean. But Ngihtmare probably insults them... right? "Worms."

Cross's whole face turns sad and worried "Worms?" Oh Dream feels so bad about this. Oh no he looks so sad and hurt and why did Dream say that?

Killer however grins widely "worms! new nickname lets go!" he grins widely

Horror just looks at him with a raised brow "You okay boss?"

Dream feels himself get anxious as he tries to channel some stern face but he is unsure how well he is managing "what is it?"

Cross just keeps looking down at the floor with a sad expression as he mutters the word 'worms' to himself.

Horror looks back "Oh Killer pushed Dust down the stairs."

Drema blinks before looking at Killer "You did what?!"

Killer grins widely as he throws out his arms "I would never!"

A second later a very angry Dust shows up "He so did! The asshole pushed me!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not times infinity! Hah! I win!"

Dust glares and tries to tackle Killer but Dream, or lets be real Nightmare's tentacles, stop him and catch Dust mid air.

Dream takes a few breaths but he gives up "No pushing each other down the stairs! I can't even believe i need to say this!"

Horror speaks up "Again."

Dream feels himself stand up straighter "Again?!" luckily all of them seem to not hear the question in his outraged cry as Killer nods with a pout and Dust just huffs.

It is slightly concerning how unbother Dust looks by being up in onf of those tentacles.

Dream rubs his face as he tries to keep his spinning thoughts calm "I am going to be quick about it. I want all four of you to behave for ten minutes so I can look through my reports and figure out where to go to next!"

His brother had so many reports. If Dream could find some positive universe and spread a tiny bit of negativity then Nightmare, in Dream's own body, would feel that and come to Dream and then Dream can try to get them to switch back.

Silence answers him and he looks up to see all four of the gang look at him and nod. Dream waits for a moment before nodding himself "Good!" He has to focus on the tentacle and imagines it putting Dust down before it actually listens. The tendril seems unwilling to let Dust go.

Dream takes a deep sigh and sits back at Nightmare's desk as he starts reading through reports. He looks back up only to see all four of the gang relaxing around him and Nightmare's desk.

Dream rubs his face. considers going against it before just going wiht the flow. Fine! if they want to watch him read reports so be it! Dream turns back to the many reports as he tries to figure out which place would be best. By the stars Nightmare has so much information and he straight up has a whole catagory on different universes and what key differences are and how to spot these when first entering an universe.

There is just so much knowledge and understanding about all of these universe. Nightmare even took time ot learn which universes are most likely to interact. to cross over. or to even be able to hold a stable connection to serve as trading route.

Dream looks up and spots that those stupid tentacles had moves again! Each of them holds one of the four gang members and Dream is trying to think on how to put them back down.

Then he sees all four of them... asleep. peacefully asleep as they lay either rolled up in the tentacle or seem to hug them in their sleep.

Dream stares for a moment and wonders just how often this happens for that to be the natural reaction before he turns back to the reports. the answer has to be in these.

----------

Nightmare feels the spike of negativity as soon as it happens. It si fear from somewhere in the multiverse and he sits up straight.

Blue looks over worried "Dream?"

Nightmare knows it within a second with absolute certainty "My brother." it is dream. Dream has entered an universe and is... causing fear?

Maybe a trap. Or... a beacon.

Blue frowns at him "Are you sure you are ready for this Dream? I don't think you are... fully rested yet."

Nightmare is already up and nods "I am sure." Now the hard part. He focusses on the magic so much like his own but different. the only thing that is avaiable to him is Dream's magic and it will have to do. He focusses on the positivity and wills it to open a connection to where he feels the spike of negativity.

A portal opens before them.

Blue nods as he grabs his hammer "Let's go."

They step through together and Nightmare looks around. He is quick to spot himself.

Nightmare glares as he crouches low before he is off like a bullet right at his own body. The shock on his own face is satisfying.

More satisfying is tackling himself as he and Dream tumble down the sloop into the overgrowth behind it.

Dream yelps and tries to retaliate but Nightmare knows his own body and his own limits. Nightmare is quick to get Dream in a headlock and hisses "Give me back my body."

Dream groans "I am trying! Let go so we can figure this out before they find us!"

Nightmare frowns and waits for just a moment to see if they are followed. He feels some slight confusion and worry from everyone else but there seems to be a bit of a standoff.

Nightmare sighs and lets go of Dream "Quickly then."

Dream huffs as he gets up only to stagger as Ngihtmare sees his tendrils flex. Nightmare snorts "Haven't figured out how to keep them still yet?"

Dream glares at Ngihtmare wiht his own face "Shut up. Just tell me you have na idea how to switch us back."

Nightmare sighs "Obviously we tried to recreate what happened in our last fight." Nightmare focusses and calls forth his, Dream's? this is getting confusing, aura.

Dream hisses slightly, no doubt feeling the burn, before nodding and quickly doing the same.

Both hold out a hand and inch their aura's around each's other's aura and towards the other twin.

Nightmare feels his own magic reach him and it feels like a blast of cool air on a summer day. He lets himself follow it and-

His body burns by the positivity right before him and he jumps back. His tendrils helping Ngihtmare move back and away from Dream.

Dream lets out a loud sigh of relieve as he lets himself sink to his knees "Oh that feels so much better..."

Nightmare nods as he flexes a tendril "I agree."

A moment of silence and peace between the two as neither makes the move to attack first.

Dream speaks up first "I... I never realised how... how much just tiny bits of positivity hurt..."

Nightmare shurgs "You get used to it. and sometimes it is better to feel the sting than the alternative."

Dream nods as he shoots Nightmare a smile.

Nightmare frowns "You can say no."

Dream blinks "Excuse me?"

Nightmare sighs "You should say no sometimes. It is unhealthy to keep giving everything you have to everyone. especially if they don't actually need help or are even thankful or grateful for it." Nightmare shoots his brother an unimpressed look "Learn to manage your work/home life."

Dream blinks before laughing and shooting him a grin "You sound like Blue."

Nightmare nods "You should listen to him more then."

Another moment of peace before both their groups get to them. Neither feel much for fighting and both call for a retreat very quickly.

Both have a lot to think about anyways.

---------

"Wait?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU AND YOUR TWIN HAD BEEN SWITCHED?! THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH!"