#also i'm not too thrilled about this coloring but fuck it

[penncilkid]

Been thinking about my experiences as a POC within fandom while also being an artist and how much that sucks sometimes. This is primarily in regards to the Redacted fandom, but could be applied to any other fandom honestly.

Proper "fussing" under the cut (for those who would rather not see):

Sometimes, I really stop and think about what it must be like to be a white person in fandom, especially when you're an artist. To see yourself reflected in the spaces you exist in all the time. There are some exceptions to this, of course. For example, lack of body diversity is just as much of a problem in my opinion (Like fat people exist. Disabled people exist. Fat, disabled people exist. You can draw them, y'know? /rhet) But generally speaking, it's not difficult to find designs that probably look like you. There will be blondes, brunettes, redheads even— It's everywhere you look.

I don't think most people realize how isolating that ends up feeling though.

Because it's not just the fact that most of the art/designs you'll stumble upon won't resemble you. It's the fact that the prevalence dictates how everyone else interacts with fandom too.

Do you know how much it sucks seeing a post saying "So we all agree that Asher's blonde, right?" and knowing that most people are thinking of a white guy and nothing else?

Or noticing how Alexis, a generally "hated" character in the fandom, is the only vampire most people are willing to make visibly brown?

How about the fact that Gavin, the "thrilling" and "sexy" incubus, has so many black and brown designs— But I can count the non-white Lasko designs I've come across on my hand?

People can do whatever they want. I've said it before, and I'll continue to repeat it when I make these rambles. If you want to make every single design you have varying shades of white and never stray from that, that's your prerogative. But for the love of god, I wish I didn't feel like I was fucking crazy for talking about how much that shit sucks to see as a person of color.

On top of that, do you know how frustrating it is to watch white artists get praised for generic diversity when POC artists have been consistently bringing forth such compelling, stunning designs to table? Like I see the kind of shit that gets praised in this fandom and what doesn't. Racial ambiguity or the slightest addition of a curl gets treated like it's revolutionary— And that's only if it's the "correct" character. It has to "make sense", right? The same way Sam has to have sun-kissed, golden skin even after he's been turned, or the way Guy has to be white because there's no way someone with that personality could be anything but.

Do you know what it's like to be filled with such a sense of joy because someone made a design where a character had your skin tone or hair texture or facial feature? Like, I genuinely have a strong reaction whenever I find a black or brown design in this fandom because they're so rare in comparison to everything else. And when I really stop to think about that, I realize how fucked up of a phenomenon that is.

I love the designs that I've made, but I've also noticed which ones "do better" comparably. I don't change much of anything with how I go about posting or promoting them. The only difference is that some of them fit what is considered widely "canon" in fandom. And the others... don't. I go out of my way to make every design POC in some regard, and you can usually tell visually even without the addition of colors. I'm not gonna stop doing that because I know why I started in the first place. But fuck, it does start to hurt seeing white artists with the same general white designs get hyped up endlessly while I internally debate if I should even make another character look like me or not. If it'll even matter to anyone but me.

Some days, I just really wish it didn't feel like shit being black in this fandom. I hate knowing that I'm gonna post this, and I'll probably get responses for other people of color primarily.

But maybe putting this out will help that pill get easier to swallow.

#PK Rambles #Fandom Wank #If you feel “targeted” by this post: Maybe just ask yourself why? /gen #Because I promise you that your brief discomfort will fade with time #And my isolating exhaustion will continue to seep deeper and deeper into my bones #I'm just really fucking tired in a lot of ways

[the-floral-perspective]

Ben drowned SFW + NSFW Headcannons

SFW headcannons

- this man has CHRONICALLY bad posture

- he's a very clean guy surprisingly? Like I think he gets grossed out really easily. He's definitely really picky too.

- I feel like this man is very clingy, maybe not touchy, but he's definitely always three steps behind you. Like a lost dog <3

- he's also very sarcastic? Like you can forget to be scared of him sometimes

- has a very important hair care routine and it pays OFF. His hair is always so soft and luxurious.

- his favorite color is green, but that's not ALL he wears. I feel like he mostly wears dark green plaid pants and a ripped up tshirt, but he’s definitely more 90s grunge.

- chronic converse wearer.

- Ben is definitely like a HUGE gossip, he notices everything about everyone and loves sharing it with you.

- he does like video games, but he doesn't play them that much or make them his whole personality

- his eyes are totally green.

- I feel like he's surprisingly good at drawing?? Like he draws a cartoon version of you all the time.

- this man is TOUCHY alone and a closeted pervert, but only for you <3 (he totally steals your underwear and wants you to know)

- he does have elf ears and blood IS always running down his eyes (whenever his human disguise is off)

- he has very very nice hands

-5’6

NSFW Headcannons!

-imma be honest, I think this man is a bottom dom

- his dick is SO PRETTY TOO, like it has minimal veins and stands at 4.5 inches normal and 6.1 inches erect. His tip is a cute pink and he's extremely sensitive. Not really all that veiny though.

- Gagging!

I feel like Ben is a surprisingly big fan of being gagged, like he likes feeling helpless like that. I dont think he'd like gagging you though, all he wants to hear is your pretty little sounds. On him tho? He loves being restrained by you.

-Edging!

Ben loves being edged and edging you. Don't get me wrong, nothing beats overstimulating you with a vibrator, but he still REALLY loves edging. Specifically being edged. He likes the thought of him giving you everything and more sexually while you use restrain him from cumming. It gives him some sort of small power?? Like he likes feeling worthless and like a human dildo to you.

-toys!

Ben has many many MANY toys, he's very open sexually. Most of them are used for the both of you and cleaned afterwards, but yeah he's totally got like a ton of toys.

-humiliation!

I'm ngl, Ben totally kind of wants to get caught fucking you or eating you out. Just as a form of showing you off to whoever dares to interrupt you two. Though he does feel humiliated by it, he's thrilled as well (and dare I say prideful) Ben is the type of guy that wants to share your beauty with everyone, I would not be surprised if Ben was a cuck.

Scenario

“Shut up Ben! We’ll get caught!” You smacked him lightly on the head.

Ben broke the gag he was biting on, so it was useless now. Especially with how his vibrator was resting on him, he was louder than normal.

God Ben wishes he could break out of his restraints and eat you out real good. He wants you to fuck his face like a toy so bad. Almost cumming, you kissed Ben sweetly on the lips which made him twitch violently and cum.

As you took off Ben’s restraints, he was exhausted “thank you, baby,” he panted before smirking and flipping you over.

“Your turn.”

#ben drowned #ben drowned smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta

[eishxn]

—EP 1, YOU THINK HE'S PRETTY?

KYS [AFFECTIONATELY]

—scaramouche x male! reader

synopsis: a classical pianist who lost his passion for music, only seeing it as a bore and a pain—got the interest of a certain band member of a rising band. Kunikuzushi is already tired of his group's bullshit but now venti is adding another member—and it's his greatest academic rival too.

genre: academic rivals, social media au, band au, enemies to lovers, gay asf, slow burn, college au, modern au.

warnings: mommy and daddy issues, mentions of kys and kms jokes, ooc scaramouche, heavy swearing because come on this is scara we're talking about, depression<3, anxiety, will probably have nsfw, baby's first time making smau, use of alcohol courtesy of venti, suggestive topics, miscommunication, slight homophobia, male x male, classical musician meets rock band member kind of thing lmfao.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: pretend as if I'm not inserting different chapters because this smau is not planned thoroughly lmfao | Also, I had some technical difficulties as tumblr was acting weird and wouldn't let me arrange the pictures in three 😤

EP 0 « | MASTERLIST | MASTERPOST | » EP 2

© 2023 | do not copy, repost or translate my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

(y/n) turns off his phone as covers his face with his hand in frustration and embarrassment, the color of pink roses dusted on his cheeks and up to his ear. His hair messy against his pillow. “What the actual fuck? Why did Ajax even mention that arrogant bastard and why does everyone keep on shipping me with him?!" He angrily mutters to himself before sighing, sure he finds Scaramouche to be extremely pretty especially with his indigo hair styled into a jelly fish cut, bluish violet eyes so sharp and held a look of intellect or his sharp jawline yet his cheeks still looks slightly squishy and kinda cute but that doesn't mean he likes the guy romantically, he just finds him like a sort of challenge and gives a slight thrill to his boring life but when his friends knew about how he actually sees Scaramouche they immediately began to tease him.

Can't I just admire the guy in peace? Sure he looks pretty but his personality is just arrogant. Is he in denial? Of course not.

“I really hope I don't get paired with him with future projects, I'm gonna kill myself if it does happen. Just kidding but I still don't want to be paired up by him." He says as he let out a deep breath of sigh.

“I am really not looking forward to returning to school.” He mutters to himself before pressing a pillow over his face and went to sleep.

taglist (open): crossed out means I can't tag you

@ozzierenato @wanderchive @endingstar222 @lorizarei @otomegame-oneshots @motherscrustytoenailclippings @carrotcrate @lovessnarii @sukunasrealgf @kunikya @klanxii @st4rcheese @miaouusoup @d0min1qu3 @moonplethxra @magica-ren @k1an4a @ainnofinway @b2tr09 @qingquesque @fogturtle @parcqq @rainysharky @yuumaofc @colorfall @eliqusgenma @monaypo1 @beriiov @orionicchaos @scaramoo @haunts-gh0st @phoenix-eclipses @alatus-viator @sccxrem @kojifish @kiokiee @swivy123 @oopsiedaiseyy @starringyau

#genshin wanderer #genshin impact #genshin smau #wanderer #𝗞𝗬𝗦 [𝗔𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗬] — 𝗘𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗫𝗡 #scaramouche x you #scaramouche fluff #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x male reader #is it flirting? is it banter? i have no idea

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

The thing that really gets me about the camping trip (on top of everything else I mentioned), is that Max was going to leave regardless.

It didn't matter what Bart did. Max had already made up his mind. He just needed an excuse.

Play through the scenario with me for a second. Imagine Bart had passed Max's tests with flying colors. What then?

Well, if Bart had passed then Max would've been thrilled! Max's job would've been done. Bart would have been done his training and Max would have left.

You have to remember that Max wasn't there to raise a child. He wasn't there to be a father and watch Bart grow up and go off to university.

Max was there to train the next Flash. That was it. The second that job was done, Max was gone.

If Bart failed Max's tests then Max would've written Bart off as untrainable and left. If Bart passed Max's tests then Max would've given him his stamp of approval and left.

Max was so frustrated because Bart was so close to passing. Max wanted it to be done then and there, he didn't want to stick around to push Bart that extra little bit. And then Max had the big realization (I explain that in the previous post) and Max left.

But there was no situation in which he would have stayed.

Max didn't want to be a mentor. He didn't train speedsters out of love or because he enjoyed teaching. Max did it out of necessity.

See, Max knew that Savitar would return one day. Max needed fully trained and capable speedsters ready for when he did. Max is very clear about that.

When Max felt Savitar gearing up to escape the speedforce the first time, he immediately went out to find the speedsters of the time. Max trained a young Johnny Quick and a young Jay Garrick so that Max would have backup.

But Johnny was too bull-headed to listen to Max, too caught up in science to believe what Max was saying about the speedforce. And Jay had the skill and the drive but he didn't have enough power to face Savitar.

There's a reason why Max was so invested in Johnny and Jay in their 20's (when Savitar was returning), and then fucked off for literal decades (when Savitar wasn't a concern), and then was suddenly all over training Wally, Jesse and Bart (when Savitar was returning again).

I'm sorry to be blunt about it because I know it really hurts to think about it but Max wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He wanted an army.

Max was training Wally and Jesse but he was running into the same problems as before. Wally 'I was raised by science loving Barry Allen and I don't believe in magic' West had the raw power but wouldn't listen to Max at all about the speedforce. Jesse was more than willing to listen but she didn't have enough power to be a contender.

So suddenly Max is in the same position as before. He has a Flash and Quick, one too stubborn and one with too weak of a connection.

He couldn't go back to Johnny and Jay because they were senior citizens, so he just had to keep at it with Wally and Jesse and hope that they'd be able to do it.

Enter Bart stage left.

Suddenly there's a speedster with enough sheer raw power to take on Savitar. One with zero preconceptions about magic (or anything, really). A speedster that Max could train and mold into the perfect warrior. A weapon of mass destruction to take down Savitar once and for all.

So Max started really focusing on Bart. Bart was his plan B for if Wally and Jesse failed.

And you know what? Savitar came back. Wally actually managed to pull his head out of his ass and he had managed to figure out some speedforce tricks. Jesse's speedforce connection was a moot point because she didn't need her speed at all, Jesse kicked ass with her other meta powers. Jay became the epitome of 'an old dog can learn new tricks' and he was able to hold his own. Johnny actually listened to Max for once in his life and ran without his formula, relying on the speedforce instead. Also, Jenni showed up and was their surprise wild card.

And Bart? Bart wasn't plan B. Bart was center stage. Bart was there, Bart was capable and Bart was ready.

Max had been categorically wrong about everything. People could change with love and support, people could grow and learn and thrive. This was a family of people who cared about each other. They would move heaven and earth for each other. They made the impossible possible. And Max just wasn't used to that. He was used to holding people at a distance and not getting attached.

It should be noted that the camping trip happened after the fight with Savitar.

Max was really only there for his daughter. And once Helen wasn't interested? Max was gone.

He didn't really need to train Bart anymore. He certainly wasn't his father. In Max's mind Bart was better off with someone else entirely.

I really do think that Max had to leave though. Narratively speaking. Because when he came back? He came back for Bart. He came back to parent Bart.

From then on Bart's wellbeing always came first. Bart wanted to quit being a hero? If that made him happy then Max supported him. Dogs were good for children's development? Max got Bart a dog.

Max made the decision to stay for Bart. Max kept making the decision to stay for Bart. His desire to run didn't just disappear after that, but he stayed. Because from that point on Bart came first. From that point on Max was a dad.

#it's just really fucking powerful to me because at the start Max was just training a soldier #and at the end? that was his son #and you can REALLY see Max's priorities shifting throughout the series #dc #dc comics #the flash #kid flash #impulse #bart allen #max mercury #johnny quick #johnny chambers #jesse quick #jesse chambers #wally west #savitar #also lowkey it's really funny to me that Max never even attempted to train Barry because Savitar wasn't an issue at the time #like Max truly and honestly was just involved to prevent Savitar from taking over the world #speedsters #jay garrick #jenni ognats #also it's funny to me that Max was like 'this is it. this is all i have to work with. Jay Johnny Wally Jesse and Bart' #'two seniors. two untrained kids and a LITERAL child. this is it' #and he was so fucking sure about that. and then Jenni shows up out of fucking NOWHERE to fight Savitar #i mean. Max had literally never even MET Jenni before. She just showed up and he was all '?!? who the fuck??' #Max was wrong about literally everything its extremely funny

[respectthepetty]

Just reporting in after step by step episode 10 and erm…….it’s not “step by step” the series anymore.

It’s “long jump by catapult” the episode

Ps: I didn’t notice any colours I was…. Distracted. so your knowledge, if you were not also distracted , would be greatly appreciated.

I sat on this ask for a bit because I have mixed feelings about this episode, but unlike everyone else, I have only one true issue:

JEN'S PINK!

Where in the Old-Navy-flip-flop was it?!

If there is anything a Pink Person knows how to do, it is to wear pink!

Even in the most desperate of times, a Pink Person ALWAYS WEARS PINK!

So for Jen to abandon his color in these trying times knowing that Jaab is dating someone named Paint (WHAT THE FUCK, JAAB?!) while attempting to celebrate the love and union of two of his friends . . . bruv.

Like, I'm thrilled the show confirmed that Jeng has been thinking about marrying Pat since he saw him in his tux in episode four.

And I'm so happy that Jeng was wrapped all up in Pat's blue with blue lighting, blue ties, and blue clothing.

(Homie was drowning in the DEEP BLUE)

And it's great that Jeng and Pat got that blue lighting treatment while Pat wore pink because he, too, is in love.

But why did we have to sacrifice the Pink Person's pink to do it? Then for Jaab to be in those ugly ass neutrals?! I might not know what his color is but I know for damn sure he will NEVER be neutral!

Jen and Jaab lost their colors this episode as Jeng and Pat picked up each other's at an exceeding rate, which is alarming.

As @colourme-feral pointed out, Pat and Chot started this episode as versions of each other at different points. Chot is in a long-term committed relationship that is a secret, while Pat is too scared to even start a relationship where his outcome could be very similar to Chot's. We don't know why Pat and Put broke up the first time, but the popular guess is Put's job required a level of staying in the relationship closet that Pat was uncomfortable with.

What will happen now that all eyes are on Jeng and Pat and the relationship is already affecting their jobs? We are getting some blues next week.

But at what cost?

Because if Jeng's color really is black, why is he regressing back into it with neutrals like his brother has with Jen when Pat is stepping into it?

This is clown behavior, but Jeng's father is wearing blue, so I'm hoping when he speaks to Pat, he won't be the absolute worst.

And Jaab is moving back into a shade of red.

But, honestly, I just need Jen to get his color back. And I want Jaab to be the one to give it back to him.

Because both of these brothers avoid the hard conversations (Jaab when Jen wanted to talk about their kiss and Jeng when Pat wanted to talk about their work issues).

Both of these brothers are going to have to make a choice, not just about their colors, but about their love.

It's time to make a tough decision.

#step by step #step by step the series #jeng x pat #jen x jaab #it's time to make a decision!

[tainoidiot]

Rogues x Rogue!Reader headcanons

Maybe the reader was friends with them ( and also had a crush of course) when they were sane, and stuff happened and now they're a new rogue and met each other again at Arkham asylum!

I love how this took me forever to fucking post. (Also look I learned how to add color ooOoooOo)

Rogues x Rogue!reader finding eachother in Arkham.

Jervis Tetch

You used to work alongside him before he went.. mad.

You both were pretty close, friends even. Took lunches together, laughed at inside jokes, Hell it was a real Jim and Pam relationship!

Of course, you hadn't told your friend everything about your life. By day you were a secretly pining coworker of his, but as soon as you clocked out..? You turned to a life of crime.

It was thrilling! It was a revolt from society! (Because we do live in one) It was you having the time of your life. Still, you wished you could've told your friend.

When the news broke out about his crimes, you were only half shocked. The city does fucked shit to its citizens.

Time passed, you never really saw him. Besides a warning on the tv, that's about as close as you guys got... till the GCPD fucked your shit up.

Because of your latest stint, GCPD thought it'd be best to get you some help. Hoping to change your ways.. jk they sent your ass to the Arkham Asylum.

After finally getting settled in, you made your way to the common area. You were bored out of your mind, unsure how to deal with being here. Should you read? Color? Craft? Sit there and look pretty?

Last one sounds good. You took a seat, the lunch table seating wasn't too uncomfortable. It's not like you'd be here for a while anyway. Remembering this, you decided to take in the various characters of the Asylum. Killer Croc playing chess with the Riddler, Harley Quinn learning how to embroider her clothes, The Mad Hatter reading a-

Holy shit, it's him. Jervis!

"My my, look what the gcpd dragged in." You laughed, walking toward him. His eyes glance up, not recognizing you. "Please go away, I'm reading right now." He grumbled, turning a page. "Wow, I would've figured you'd be more excited to see your old coworker." You teased. Jervis placed the book down, looking at you fully now. He got up and laughed, holding you tight in his arms. "You're here! Oh my goodness.. wait how are you in here? You must tell me everything!" Jervis dragged you to sit on his lap, telling him about your adventures as gothams newest villain. With every time he looked at you, your heart grew more and more. You never wanted him to look at you any different again. Perhaps he'd like a sidekick?

Johnathan Crane

Your relationship with him was.. complicated.

University work was tough, but so were you. Him not so much. You often found him in his office squeezing the shit out of a stress ball.

Being that John was a nerd man of intelligence, you could only imagine how many migraines he got grading tests and preparing assignments for his students.

You made his life easier though, buying him lunch and talking about the students.

"I'm sorry, he asked what?" You laughed, almost spitting out your food. "He genuinely asked me why he couldn't pick up the specimen tube with TONGS. As in the utensil for grabbing salads!" His laugh was infectious, you had to admit it. You could listen to him for hours, God this crush was unbearable.

One night you were awoken to your phone buzzing, a call from Johnathan? This late? Nothing good happens after 2 am.. maybe you should leave it.

Besides, if it was so important he'd call again.. which he did.

The call consisted of breathy rambles which were kinda hot, to which you asked what was happening. "Listen. You probably won't hear from me again, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I hope we see eachother again." And then he hung up. No answers, and you were left with more questions.

You became a gotham Rogue, looking for your lost friend in any possible scenario. It wasn't till you saw a broadcast on TV about the Batman finally putting the Scarecrow in handcuffs, charting him off to Arkham. Horrible as it was, he was finally in one place. Time to get arrested!

Fairly quick, they scoop you up and shove you into a cell. That was easy, All you had to do was blow up an apartment complex. What? They're rich, they'll be fine! You take a quick look at the people around you in cells. Poison Ivy, some dude, Johnathan Crane WAIT-

Wow.. it's him. After all these years, he looks different. His hair is longer and unruly, and the dark circles under his eyes have gotten bigger. What a cutie. "Professor Crane!" You yell, hoping to get a laugh out of him. His eyes shot up, looked around, then saw you. Johnathans eyes got as wider than saucers, and you swore you saw his lip curl into a smile if only for a second. Did he miss you? Was he happy to see you? God, all you wanted was to run into him and hold him close. You'll have to wait for recreation time.

Edward Nygma

You had met him at a support group for individuals with trauma. No matter what it was, if you had to get it off your chest and couldn't afford a therapist you went there.

Was it the shit coffee? The stale donuts? The odd smell in the air you're pretty sure was from the carpets? You weren't really comfortable here.

It wasn't until you had a group activity had you actually said something to him. He was fiddling around with a pen and paper, nervously bouncing his leg.

You sat next to him, sipping your water as he wrote. Curious, you tapped his shoulder, causing him to jump. "Sorry! Looks like you were deep in that.. whatever it is you're writing." For some reason, Ed didn't snap at you. He didn't tell you to leave, or fuck off. "It's a puzzle I'm designing."

As Ed explained the ins and outs of the puzzle, you couldn't help but notice how cute it was. You had never met a man so focused.

So you kept in touch with him. A text now and then, meeting up for dinner or lunches, a shoulder to cry on. You were there, it didn't bother you.

However, things changed after he had not texted or called after an entire week has passed. You were scared, so you rushed to his place as quickly as possible.

You slammed your fist onto the door, panicking as you could almost feel the echo it gave off. "Ed? It's me.. Please open the door, I'm worried!" No answer.

"Was it something I said..?" Just like that, you noticed a green glow coming from the door. That's odd.. you grabbed the doorknob and turned, surprised at how easily it opened for you.

From the walls to the floor were papers upon papers of different symbols and mechanical equations. "What the fuck?" You whispered, going further and further into the studio. The green glow, as it turns out, was a large neon sign in the shape of a question mark.

What Ed didn't realize was long before he changed career paths, as did you. So this entire change, though surprising, wasn't beyond you.

There's no telling where he was now, so maybe that chapter of your life closed.

Except that wasn't totally true. The cops thought you were a part of this, as your fingerprints had been found in the area. Dammit, into the Asylum you go..

A few days into your stay, you hear some commotion in the common area. Yelling, no, ARGUING. "I am the smartest man in this room! You fucking idiots wouldn't know what I'm trying to get through your thick skulls!" That voice..

Oh my God it's Edward. And he's changed. Once the crowd dies down, you hop over to his side and tap his shoulder. "I'm WORKING." Ed growled, looking at you as he prepares an insult. But he doesn't. His gaze softens "Its.. you?"

"Yeah.. can we talk?"

Harleen Quinzel

You and Harleen were the best of friends.

Inseparable, and that's the way you liked it.

All you wanted to do was spend time with her. Needless to say, you had a massive crush on her.

How could you tell her about your life of crime though? Would she understand? Would she pull away? It scared you, you didn't ever want to lose her.

However, your worst fear would come true in the form of a clown.

It wasn't long till she'd stop answering your texts, which broke your heart even further.

It was late. 2 A.M to be exact. You couldn't sleep due to the sirens, but you swore there were more than usual.

Nothing good happens after 2 AM. You should just go to bed and sleep it off.. okay a peek outside the window wouldn't hurt. As you stared out the window, you realized it was much more than sirens. It was so much worse. The Joker had invaded your neighborhood, and was doing his usual shit. What an amateur, smiley faces everywhere. We get it, you're a clown.. wait a second. Under the sirens and blaring weapons, you swore you heard a familiar voice. But it couldn't be, could it? You get your gear on and decide to investigate, sneaking around behind the shadows.

It's confirmed. Harleen, now going under the name Harley, was partnered up with the Joker.

And by partnered up, He was frenching her right then and there.

You held back hot tears as you tried to run, but alas, you're a known criminal in a crime scene.

Of course you're taken into custody and eventually thrown into the local Asylum.

While everyone is supposed to be asleep, you found a way to escape your cell and roam around. God this place is dilapidated, we really need more funding.

As you walked the cold empty halls, you could hear two things. Guards playing poker and.. was that sniffling? Crying? Hm.. wouldn't hurt to see who it was. Further investigation led you to a bright blonde wailing into a pillow, occasionally snotting up her tissues. Poor thing. "Psst, hey." You whispered, the blonde stopping to wipe her eyes and look around. "Over here." You replied, waving at her.

The blonde gasps, as do you. She's covered in bruises and cuts, most looking man-made. "Oh my god.. You're here." She cried. Wait a second.. "Harley? Holy shit what happened to you?" You asked, attempting to break the lock as quietly as possible to comfort her. Harley just shrugs, not sure how to answer "Oh you know.. Puddin' got a little mad one day." She attempted to get out, but this just made her cry harder.

After successfully breaking in, you rush to her side. Holding her close and wiping tears away. "Hey its okay.. I got you now. You're safe.." you whispered into her ear.

Pamela Isley

Ah, STEM classes. The ones that tests a students will to live, with the right professor of course.

Why anyone takes this major is beyond me, but hey you didn't mind. The exams were awful, but you had a friend at least.

Pamela Isley. Pammy. Always has her nose in a flower and her head in an equation. A brilliant woman. God you adored this woman.

Pam was quiet, sure. But when she was with you she want on and on about everything.

"You know, when I'm with you.. it's like I can tell you anything." Pam told you as you both sat next to eachother in the campus rec room. You blushed, taking her hand as you smiled. "I feel the same way." You both came to an understanding. But you hadn't told her everything, like what you did after 7 pm.

After she had told you she would be meeting with a professor on who knows what, you just brushed it off as help with a certain question or maybe an upcoming assignment. But afterward, she stopped texting. Completely. You were upset, sure. But if something happened to her? You could never forgive yourself.

You were getting ready for your night on the town, when you noticed something odd growing on your windowsill. Is that.. a Lily? You gently take the petals into your hand, it reminded you of your old.. ahem.. friend.

"It's almost as beautiful as you." You heard from behind you, causing you to jump and turn in fear. The voice came from a young woman, smiling at you with admiration and a bit of fear. "Oh, what? Don't you recognize your old friend?" She cooed into your ear.

"Pam?" You whispered, taking her hand. Before she could get a reply in, GCPD bust down your door and arrest you both on the spot. Apparently just before, Pam had murdered a local businessman because of the harm his buildings construction did to the native plant life in the city.

"How long have you been in crime?" She asked you, sitting across from you in the dining hall.

"I could ask the same for you, Ivy." You teased, taking her hand.

#gotham rogues #batman #jervis tetch #edward nygma #headcanon #johnathan crane #jervis tetch x reader #johnathan crane x reader #edward nygma x reader #harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #pamela isley #poison ivy

[purpleheartskies]

This is such a fucking weird question but I really need your help with it 😭 What colours do you associate the most with Robby and Tory? I keep coming with different combinations and I can't decide! I really love your analysis, so I wanted to hear your opinion 🥹

Hi! Thanks for your question! I assumed that you're talking about color theory for personalities, which I'm not too familiar with, so I looked into it. If you meant something else... Well, this was still fun to do, and I hope this still answers your question. 🙂

I get what you mean about coming up with different combinations. There are different color theory charts out there lol, and I was also unsure at first.

This is the first one I found, and I immediately thought of Robby as blue and Tory as orange. Of course, neither is a 100% fit.

Robby as Blue Compassionate and caring - The blue personalities are brilliant at identifying and gauging the feelings of those around them. They thrive when in relationships and they are pretty social and always show compassion towards others. Blue personalities are always trying to ensure that their group is successful and comfortable. If they find someone struggling in their group, they do not hesitate to offer a helping hand.  A blue person is faithful and loyal. You can count on them to stand by you through thick and thin. They have a big heart and are not afraid to show generosity because they want others to follow their lead as well. They are trustworthy and have an enthusiastic nature. Blue personality types tend to put others first and work hard to ensure that they take care of those around them.  They avoid conflict at any cost. If any conflict arises, their basic instinct is to defuse the situation and find a peaceful solution to the problem. They have a sensitive soul and can easily get upset over small things.  People-oriented - Blue personalities love getting praise and appreciation from others. The validation of other people gives them confidence and happiness as it lets them know that they are being heard. They look for opportunities to interact with others as it helps recharge their energy and provides the inspiration they need. Careers that require a high level of collaboration and coordination are best suited for them.  Traditional and rule followers - Blues are not a big fan of change and prefer to do things their way. They are traditionalists and like to stick to their old and tried ways even though they are not the best and most efficient way of doing things. Their inflexibility can often lead to conflict with others. They are unlikely to suggest a new way of doing things or volunteer a fresh idea. They respect things that have endured the test of time and find them reliable. (This part makes me think of Miyagi-Do and how Robby seems to uphold the Miyagi-Do teachings the most. Although Robby also said to fight whichever way works, that's still a Miyagi-Do teaching that Robby adopted.)

Tory as Orange Orange personalities are known for their adventurous nature. Action takers - Orange personalities have too much energy and they are always looking for action so they get to use their boundless energy.  They don’t bother over-analyzing situations and worry too much about optimal direction.  Instead of relying on evidence or facts, they prefer to base their decisions on gut feeling. They are most inclined to go for a riskier path because they find safe options boring. They are ready to take risks because they believe that they can reap bigger and better rewards.  Orange people like to be in control of situations and don’t appreciate being bound by rules and commitments. Spontaneous - Orange people don’t like structure as they find it confining. They get a lot of excitement and energy by living in the moment. Their true joy lies in the present and they don’t spend much time contemplating the past.  Oranges believe that planning dampens the thrill of things as it takes out the spontaneity they crave. Their desire for a thrill can often lead to risky behavior as well.  Orange personalities want freedom in life. They can easily get bored and often seek thrill by competing in dangerous activities. These individuals find it hard to work in one place for a long time and change jobs a lot. Whenever their current job starts being less challenging, they switch in hopes of finding a more challenging workplace.  Social butterflies - Orange personalities love meeting people and being part of a group. They are extroverts and find it easy to mingle with others, especially those who have the same view of the world as them. They have charming personalities that attract others. Their charismatic optimism is contagious and gets them attention without even trying. Their carefree nature makes them popular among people.  Orange personalities do have trouble establishing deep relationships. They don’t have the stamina to commit to a relationship and give it time. (A lot this fits for Tory, outside her rivalry with Sam and Cobra Kai brainwashing.)

Then, I came across this chart below. I also read that people are a combination of all colors but 1 or 2 are dominant in each person, all of which makes sense. I immediately drew a line down the chart for Robby and Tory: Robby is blue and green, while Tory is red and yellow (apparently there's no yellow font option). This one confused me though. It was as common as the chart above, but the blue and green descriptions are switched compared to the chart above.

I kept searching to make sense of it. I came across color theory based on primary colors (Red, Yellow, and Blue) and secondary colors (Orange, Green, and Purple). And looking more, I found some things about warm colors and cool colors. So, like, in the pic below, I think the cool colors blue, green, and purple at the bottom define Robby well, and I think the warm colors red, yellow, and orange at the top define Tory generally well ("sensible" definitely doesn't apply when she's brainwashed though).

Robby Blue represents calmness, intelligence, and trustworthiness. Individuals who exhibit this color tend to be analytical, logical, and detail-oriented. Green represents stability, balance, and harmony. Individuals who exhibit this color tend to be empathetic, compassionate, and nurturing.  Purple is often associated with creativity, spirituality, and imagination. (The blue and green descriptions are switched in the pic and in the descriptions below the pic. I found more than one article that had it this way. Still... confused lol)

Tory Red represents passion, excitement, and high energy. Individuals who exhibit this color tend to be confident, outgoing, and competitive.  Yellow represents optimism, creativity, and enthusiasm. Individuals who exhibit this color tend to be imaginative, expressive, and spontaneous.  Orange represents fun, excitement, and adventure. Individuals who exhibit this color tend to be adventurous, spontaneous, and daring.

And all this made me think about the costume designer's interviews were he mentioned warm colors and color palettes and what he's thinking about when he's picking the wardrobe for the characters. He didn't talk about Tory or Robby much, but he does seem to choose more warm colors for Tory and more cool colors for Robby.

For neutral colors, Tory wears a lot of black.

Black is a classic color that is often associated with elegance, sophistication, and power. People who wear black are often seen as confident and stylish.

She also wears beige sometimes. Maybe it's more a light brown. Both colors seem to have similar descriptions:

Brown is a warm and earthy color that is often associated with stability, reliability, and comfort. People who are drawn to brown are often seen as dependable and trustworthy. They are also seen as practical and down-to-earth.  Beige is a warm, earthy color that is often associated with stability, reliability, and practicality. People who wear beige are often seen as down-to-earth and dependable. 

Tory wears gray occasionally, but it's always paired with red.

Robby wears a lot of gray, mostly paired with blues or greens and occasionally paired with reds. He especially wears grays in scenes were things aren't going good for him, like when Daniel kicked him out both times, when he was arrested, and the whole day of the apartment fight, his shirt inside was gray.

Some interesting notes about gray: Gray positive traits are intelligence, emotional control, wisdom, balance, elegance, objectivity, modesty. Gray negative traits are indecisiveness, isolation and detachment, indifference, and sadness. Neutrality - Gray is impartial and dispassionate, it doesn’t take sides, representing neutrality.  The color gray is subdued, quiet and reserved. Gray is usually an unresponsive color. It truly is unattached, neutral, impartial and also indecisive. Coming from a color mindsets perspective, gray is the color regarding settlement – being neither dark nor white-colored, it does not take changeover between those two colors. It can also be considered as representing balance (being the balance between white and black). Conformity - Gray conforms – it is conventional, dependable and practical.  It is a color of maturity and responsibility, associated with the gray hair of old age.  It will never be the center of attention or the dynamic leader – it is too safe and toned down. Gray is the color of conformism-not having any personality of its own. Humans too show this quality as they adapt to the situation they are in. Compromise - Gray is the transition between two non-colors, neither black nor white.  It takes the middle ground, neither one way nor the other. Control - It has a steadying effect on other colors around it.  Gray is controlled.  Being both motionless and emotionless, gray is solid and stable, creating a sense of calm and composure, relief from a chaotic world. Being both still and emotionless, gray is strong and steady, making a feeling of cool and self-restraint, and alleviates you from a riotous world. It doesn’t invigorate, empower, revive or energize. Gray looks moderate, exhausting, dull and discouraging, but at the same time it looks exquisite and formal, yet never captivating. As gray reaches dark, it becomes extraordinary and also mysterious. Ones who love gray are the ones who try to protect themselves from the world around them. Those peoples prefer a safe and balanced existence, don’t want to hurt their emotions, and control their emotions to avoid an emotional pain.

The first and last pics of Robby above are interesting. When he meets Amanda for the first time (first pic) she is wearing purple and he's wearing a gray button down outside and a red shirt inside. When he meets Carmen for the first time (second pic), she is wearing purple and he's wearing red/black button down outside and a gray shirt inside. It's quite a switch. In both scenes, he's putting on a front. In the first scene, he's confident and in control of the situation (that is the dominant one) as he's choosing this front and the red is inside not outside. In the second scene, he's not the one in control though he's trying to gain some semblance of control over the situation he is in. (At least that's my take on it. Can't be a coincidence that Amanda and Carmen both are wearing purple (also a color symbolizing royalty and these are women he needs to impress) when they meet him for the first time, while he's wearing gray and red but switched.)

In s1, Robby was wearing dark green in his first scene. In his 3rd scene, he's wearing red and black. It's the only time he's wearing red before s4. Then he's goes into more warm colors (maroon, yellow-ish) and neutral colors (black, white, and gray) and eventually starts wearing blues after he starts training with Daniel.

In s4, unlike the other Cobras, he barely wears reds and blacks on their own, other than the Cobra Kai uniforms, during the head shaving incident, and his red suit for prom. Sometimes he doesn't have any reds but just darker shades of blue and green with black, or his reds are always paired with blue or green and sometimes has some browns. The first and only time Robby is wearing a full pink shirt is when he goes to Kenny's house and agrees to mentor him. Robby barely has pinks in his wardrobe. In his s4 finale scene with Johnny, Robby's button down has brown in it and his shirt inside is a maroon.

Pink is a soft and feminine color that is often associated with love, compassion, and nurturing. People who are drawn to pink are often seen as caring and nurturing. They are also seen as sensitive and compassionate. Maroon is often associated with ambition, confidence, and strength. Maroon can also represent wisdom and maturity. Although pink is softer than maroon, the color combos in these scenes are somewhat similar: shades of blue and brown on the outside, pink or maroon on the inside.

The pink in the Kenny scenes and the maroon in the Johnny scene fit the nature of those scenes and the relationships. Robby's weakness is his compassion, especially towards Kenny. Robby will always be more wise and mature than Johnny.

In s5, Robby wears reds at Miyagi-Do and blues at Cobra Kai, which is opposite to the colors that represent those dojos. Definitely some color symbolism going on with these two distinct choices. In s2, for example he always wore blues and grays at Miyagi-Do.

Overall, I think I'll go with the costume designer's choices because they also match how I view Robby's and Tory's personalities: cool colors (blue, green, and purple) with a neutral gray for Robby and warm colors (red, orange, yellow, and brown) with a neutral beige and black for Tory.

What about you? What colors were you thinking of for them?

#cobra kai is robby's story #robby keene #tory nichols #keenry

[br-uwu-cewayne]

Today I'm thinking about the big Wayne Birthday Bashes, like. He probably does a nice intimate family thing at home on the day off, but the night before is probably always some big Brucie Wayne party, so everyone can lose their shit at midnight screaming happy birthday and fireworks go off and yada yada yada.

Like basically the same as the big Wayne New Year's galas but less formal and even more drunk.

But basically the reason I'm thinking about this is like. I'm getting the warm fuzzies imagining like. Bruce is at the party already tired but still playing the part, looking around for WHERE the FUCK have his sons gone he needs SOMEONE to socialize with for a bit who's not a completely vapid socialite or slimy politician for a bit, and he's already played his "a reasonable amount of time for Brucie to want to talk to Commissioner Gordon" card.

And Alfred's just like hmmmnn sorry can't help you don't know where they went. So he's LOOKIN' but can find them. Then the event emcee gets on stage and things quiet down as he steps up to the mic and clears his throat.

"And now, a special announcement from-" [squints at cue card] "-the 'Official First Ward of Wayne' and 'Best Ass in Gotham-"

"More like the biggest ass!" Babs hollers with scornful humor from the sidelines somewhere amidst the giggles of tipsy partygoers. A few folks holler and whistle while others jokingly call for a recount.

"This is Nightwing slander and you know it!"

Bruce couldn't say for sure, but he's pretty certain that was Dick's own voice. He scans the crowd again, but to no avail.

He is beginning to regret having started the boys in those bright colors.

"-settle down, settle down! Ahem - today marks a most important occasion. Not just the birthday of our beloved Brucie-" Bruce plays to crowd, winking and waving as they clap and whistle for him now, making sure to keep every trace of his growing suspicion and concern from showing through. "-but also the FIRST of said birthdays in which our dear baby brother has FINALLY reached five full feet of height. As such, we are thrilled to announce a very special inaugural presentation - the very first traditional Wayne Family Father/Sons dance! If you would please, clear the ballroom floor. This... could get messy."

The crowd drifts to the sides of the room with scattered applause, a bit unsure but going with the flow. Bruce frowns, still seeing no trace of his boys, and whispers hurridly to Alfred from the corner of his mouth.

"I've... heard of father/daughter dances, but never father/s- wait, sons as in plural?"

Alfred shoots him a wry grin, but before there's even a chance for a response their are two broad hands smacking firmly into Bruce's chest and yanking him back - Dick and Jason, having used his confusion to successfully sneak up behind him, tugging him into a sturdy wooden chair. He's not even finished coughing from the impact before the world is tilting beneath him. Reflexively, he grabs onto the side edges of the seat as it lifts.

Dick, Jason, Tim... each of them grab a leg off the chair and hoist it up. With Bruce's weight, it pitches forward towards the left corner for just a moment as Damian slips into place - still a touch too short for cradling the remaining leg against his shoulders like the other boys, but his Robin training means even his extended grip is sturdy enough for their purposes.

"Alright, HIT IT boys!" Tim calls out, the group spurring into motion before Bruce can collect himself and demand to be put down. Various members of the waitstaff Alfred hired are suddenly ditching their serving trays for instruments. First, a slow, circling melody from a single Klezmer... then another joins... two more... it picks up speed... a fiddle... faster... the audience begins to clap in time, and before he can really even register what's happening Bruce is being and spun and dipped and almost thrown across the floor by his sons.

There's... a brief flash of memory. Foggy, the way things are when you're just a bit too young to fully recall. Some kind of family party... his mother's cousin. Uncle? Someone. everyone out on the dance floor... tiny Bruce, absolutely fascinated by what they were doing. His mother, exhausted after the event but still listening to him babble on about what he thought was so cool... still picking him up with a smile and throwing him around just the laughing man in the chair...

And now, it's his birthday. And he's the one laughing in the chair. And it's his family. His boys. Lifting him up. Spinning him around. He fills his heart swell almost to burst. Has to fight a sentimental tear from his eye.

Until, at least, he hears Jason holler "ALRIGHT! As agreed! First one to unseat him takes the whole kit and kaboodle!!!"

Oh ho ho. Alright then, boys. It's on.

#brucie wayne #bruce wayne #batman #jewish bruce wayne #the batfamily #batfamily

[stillwintering]

All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

Read on AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Nesta and Cassian's Iowa trip was cut short. The two of them were having a working dinner at a bustling local pub in Cedar Rapids when Amren's call came. Cassian put down his fork and held out his phone between them, putting her on speaker.

"Change of plans. We are moving up the campaign announcement," Amren explained, her voice sounding distant and foreign against the warm chatter around them. "I need you both in Velaris by tomorrow afternoon."

Velaris was the city at the heart of Rhys's congressional district. The city held a profound personal connection for Rhys, having been his home since birth. They had long planned that Rhys would declare his intent to seek his party's nomination for president from the one place that had always meant the most to him.

Cassian's expression hardened. "What happened?" he asked, the background noise suddenly fading into a dull hum. The Velaris office had been working with a longer timeline for the announcement. It wouldn't be easy to move things up.

"Thesan fucking Morgenstern is announcing his candidacy next week," Amren hissed over the speakers. "We can't afford to lose the news cycle."

Cassian and Nesta exchanged a worried look, their food forgotten. Thesan Morgenstern was the beloved three-term Governor of Pennsylvania. There had been intense speculation that he wasn't going to run this cycle. But if Morgenstern threw his hat in, he would most certainly become the presumptive front-runner for the nomination.

"Rhys and Feyre, are they already in Velaris?" Nesta asked.

"They're en route with Nyx. I'm leaving tonight," Amren responded sharply. "Your rooms are already booked at the House of the Wind. We announce in two days." With that, Amren promptly ended the call.

"Shit," Cassian exhaled, dropping his phone on the table. "Thesan Morgenstern changes everything." He pushed both his hands through his hair, the hem of his top -- an olive-colored henley that distractingly brought out the greens in his eyes -- lifting to reveal a flash of hard muscles.

Nesta swallowed involuntarily. She picked up the files between them. They had been going over resumes over dinner -- hiring new staffers was going to have to wait. "We'll need to reevaluate our entire campaign strategy," she said, concentrating on organizing the papers away. "Thesan is extremely well-connected with the party establishment. The DNC will want to back him."

"I should talk to Mor." Cassian picked up his phone again. His fingers swiftly tapped out a message. "Thesan will dominate fundraising."

"Not only fundraising," she added. "Thesan has always been a media darling. He'll also dominate news coverage. We'll be fighting on multiple fronts."

Cassian looked up from his phone. His eyes were bright and determined as he locked gazes with her. The dim, flickering lights of the pub cast deep shadows across his face, accentuating the strong contours of his jaw. "Looks like the game is about to get a lot more interesting," he gave her a roguish grin.

Nesta couldn't help but smile back, feeling a rush of adrenaline. A part of her relished in the thrill of a high-stakes political battle. Yet, there was something else too, a flicker of something deeper, stirring in the recesses of her heart -- something she hadn't felt in a long while.

"Interesting?" she retorted, her smile blossoming. "We're about to turn this into a real show."

---

The House of the Wind, standing majestically in the mountains west of Velaris, was even more beautiful than what Nesta remembered. It was the Starborns' preferred hotel, with its opulent lobby adorned with intricate frescoes and crystal chandeliers, and rooms offering unparalleled views of the city. Nesta had only been to Velaris once before, for Feyre and Rhysand's wedding many years ago. It had been a tasteful ceremony -- an elegant event she knew Feyre deserved. But the wedding had also laid bare the Starborns' vast fortune and social capital. A far cry from the Archerons, who had lost everything in the financial crisis.

Rhys's money and connections had always made Nesta uneasy. Not to mention, Feyre and Rhys decided to forego a prenuptial agreement altogether. It had caused a scandal, Nesta recalled, with the Archeron sisters cast as vulgar gold diggers and social climbers. The Hewns, who were cousins of the Starborns and staunch upholders of tradition, had boycotted the wedding, appalled by what they considered a breach of propriety.

Feyre and Rhys had a whirlwind romance. They met and wed within six months -- unheard of among the blue blood. Since Rhys's parents had both passed when Rhys was young, the Hewns thought of themselves as caretakers of the family legacy. They had disapproved of Feyre -- scorned her lack of elite schooling and prospects, and generally considered the Archerons to be not well-bred enough. Rhys, as far as Nesta could tell, never cared one bit about what anyone thought or said about Feyre and was perfectly willing to become estranged from the Hewns.

Nesta only learned later that it was Mor who had played diplomat to prevent a complete rift in the extended families. She had spent years persuading Kier Hewn to finally accept Feyre, thereby averting further scandal. Not to mention, being on good terms with the Hewns was invaluable to Rhys's political career. Yet, the whole protracted affair had left a lingering bitterness in Nesta, a reminder of how much she would never truly be accepted into their world. She was unable to understand how Feyre could go to the Hewn Mansion and not want to set the whole place on fire.

"Over here!" Azriel's voice brought Nesta back from her thoughts. She spotted him and Amren seated together at the polished walnut bar at the far end of the lobby. "Did you just get in?" he inquired.

Nodding, Nesta approached them. "How goes the preparations?"

"We finally got permission to use the steps in front of City Hall for the kickoff rally," Amren replied. "And the press?"

Nesta settled into a seat beside Azriel. "Every major media outlet is sending someone," Nesta reported. "I have Rhys scheduled for over a dozen interviews after the announcement."

Amren stood up, her sleek bob swishing. "Good. The campaign announcement is the only time we have complete control over the media narrative," she remarked. "Make sure the press stays on message. I don't want anyone comparing us to Thesan's campaign."

Nesta motioned the bartender to bring her a pour of the same whisky Azriel was drinking. "Are we losing support to Thesan?" she asked.

Azriel's expression was somber. "I'm afraid so," he replied. "The donor class is practically falling over itself. He already out-fundraised us."

"We won't be able to outspend him," Amren said grimly, downing her drink. "We will need to outmaneuver him."

The bartender placed a whisky in front of Nesta. She picked up her glass and let the spicy, woody scent warm her. "And the political strategists?"

"Thesan will have no trouble recruiting from the top Democratic talents," Azriel responded. "All the key operatives in the game are vying for a position on the Morgenstern campaign. Beron is already lobbying for him, saying that the party needs to rally around the strongest candidate."

"Fuck Beron," Amren muttered, turning on her heels and heading for the grand staircase. "Don't stay up too late. I need you two sharp for tomorrow."

Nesta watched Amren disappear around a corner. "At least we have been organizing on the ground longer than Thesan has," she said.

"Cass told me that we are picking up steam in Iowa," Azriel cocked his head to one side. "How did the field office visits go?"

"Surprisingly well," Nesta replied. "The volunteers are energized, and we're seeing a surge in support from young and first-time voters."

"That's one thing in our favor." Azriel smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Who else is running in the primary?"

"Kallias Makris," Azriel revealed. "But he's the least of our concerns."

"The senator from Alaska?"

Azriel nodded. "Kallias is most likely testing the water for a cabinet appointment," he said. "With Thesan running, no one else is likely to enter the race. Tarquin had decided not to mount a challenge from the left."

Nesta considered the news. The Democratic nomination was shaping up to be a David and Goliath match-up between Thesan and Rhysand. "And the other party?" she asked. "Who's running in the Republican primary?"

Azriel leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Sean Hybern is expected to announce his candidacy any day now."

"Vice President Hybern," she repeated, her voice laced with disdain.

"Yes," Azriel confirmed, swirling his drink. "He's charismatic and has a loyal following. Given that the current President is historically weak, Hybern is the most prominent figure in the Replubican party."

Nesta eyes narrowed, understanding the implications. "Hybern will most likely clinch the Republican nomination by Super Tuesday."

Azriel drummed his fingers on the bar. "Thesan has a decent shot at knocking us out by Super Tuesday too," he continued. "But if we can hang on and build some momentum in the early-voting states, we might survive long enough to make it to the Convention."

"Either way, Hybern will be a formidable opponent to run against in the general election," Nesta added, feeling apprehensive. The race was heating up -- it would be a long, hard-fought battle for the presidency.

Nesta's gaze inadvertently settled on the bartop, drawn to the elegant movement of Azriel's fingers. His hands were beautiful, even with the gashing scars that stood out against the soft candlelights of the bar. Noting Nesta's attention, Azriel quickly withdrew his hands, tucking them out of sight under the counter as if self-conscious.

Nesta wondered if any questions about the origin of those scars would be unwelcome. Azriel's expression shifted, his mouth turning downwards slightly. "Nesta," he began, breaking the silence, his voice gentle. "You should know that Elain is in Velaris. She's going to be at the kickoff rally with Nyx."

Nesta felt her blood boil at what she suspected must have occurred, that Feyre had asked Azriel to play peacekeeper between the sisters. She looked to the crowds in the lobby, avoiding Azriel's eyes, her thoughts churning. Elain was probably staying at the Starborn compound by the Sidra River and not at the House of the Wind. That fact both pained her and brought her relief that there was no chance of them running into each other here.

Nesta emptied her glass, feeling the sharp trail of the whisky as it warmed her throat. "Why aren't you all staying with Rhys at the River House?" she asked sharply.

Azriel grimaced. "Cass and I have business in the city that is better conducted from here," he replied neutrally.

Nesta stood up to leave, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. "I still have work to do," she announced. "Good night, Az."

---

Standing at the podium, Rhysand gazed out over the sea of eager faces before him. "I wanted to start this journey in the place where it all started for me," he declared, his voice resounding through the hushed crowd. The atmosphere at City Hall was electric. The audience seemed to hang on to his every word, their enthusiasm palpable in the air.

Rhysand cut an impressive figure on stage, the epitome of a seasoned politician. Everything from his exquisite blue suit to his slicked-back hair exuded an elegance that echoed the classic looks of bygone statesmen. Even from a distance, anyone could sense the quiet confidence in the way he carried himself.

"Soon, we will be inundated by the polls and the punditry and the prognostications -- all the nonsense that goes with our national political campaigns. Well, none of that matters. This is the place that matters."

Rhys gestured behind him to the majestic marble columns that lined the entrance of Velaris City Hall, his voice booming and steady. The afternoon sun was gentle and warm on his face.

"Because every day, hard-working people walk through these doors to glimpse their futures, to seek help from their government, to ask for hope. They may not know they need it yet, but they do. And I'm here to tell you that hope is real."

Nesta, positioned just below and to the right of the stage alongside Cassian, felt a chill run down her spine. She always knew that Rhys was a good politician. She glanced at Cassian -- back in a stuffy suit with his hair tied back neatly -- noting something like awe and pride on his face.

"In a life of trials, in a world of challenges -- hope is real. In a country where families go without health care, where some go without food, some don't even have a home to speak of -- hope is real."

His tone rose and fell with practiced ease, finding the perfect rhythm, as he continued, "In a time of global chaos and instability, where our faiths collide as often as our weapons -- hope is real."

Rhys paused as the crowd clapped and called out in agreement. "Hope is what gives us the courage to take on our greatest challenges, to move forward together." He looked around him, into the sea of faces, stopping for dramatic effect. "We live in cynical times, I know that. But hope is not up for debate."

Nesta felt goosebumps as the speech reached its crescendo.

"There is such a thing as false science, there's such a thing as false promises. I am sure that I'll have my share of false starts in this campaign. But there is no such thing as false hope. There is only hope."

Rhys looked up as if knowing instinctively that the cameras were zooming in on his face.

"And with your help and your hard work and the hopes of good people all across this land, I hereby announce my candidacy for President of these United States."

The applause that followed was deafening.

---

Later, Feyre and Nyx joined Rhysand on stage, climbing up from the left side. Rhys stood tall, his native son's charisma shining through. He took Nyx into his arms and dropped a kiss on Feyre's cheek. She was resplendent in a deep blue dress that coordinated with Rhys's suit. The three of them then turned to face the adoring crowd, a portrait of unity and strength.

Over the scaffolding, Nesta spots Elain on the other side of the stage, standing next to Azriel. Elain had always been the most ethereal of the three sisters. She almost looked out of place in the middle of a political rally in her flowing floral dress -- she was radiant against the assembly of neutral tones around her backstage.

Azriel touched Elain's arm and leaned in to talk against her ear in a manner that signaled something more than passing familiarity. Nesta wondered how long Elain had been in Feyre's orbit to have become so friendly with Azriel.

The middle Archeron was smiling and clapping before she caught Nesta’s gaze from the far side of the platform. Elain's face immediately fell, her chocolate eyes going wide. Nesta felt nauseous.

Cassian dipped his chin towards her. "Nes?" he asked, face full of concern. "Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

She nodded, tearing her eyes from the far side of the stage. "I'm fine," she replied, clearing her throat. "I should go check in with the press."

"I'll come with you."

"No," she quickly responded. "After Rhys is done shaking hands here, you need to get him to the House of the Wind for his first sit down interview in an hour."

Cassian didn't look convinced. But Nesta disappeared into the crowd before he could say anything more.

---

Back in her hotel room at the House, Nesta stared at the computer screen where she had written a letter of resignation. It had been a long day for the Starborn campaign. Nesta had coordinated what felt like endless media appearances and fact-checked several reporters who had misrepresented Rhys's policy objectives. While the work had been exhilarating, a persistent anxiety gnawed at her -- it was a terrible idea, mixing work with family.

Nesta wanted nothing more than to quit, yet it wasn't the campaign she yearned to escape from. Rather, it was the complicated, often fraught relationships with her sisters that unnerved her about staying. Their interactions had become a tangle of hurt and misunderstandings, a web that left Nesta feeling trapped and exhausted. The last time all three sisters were together, they had said things to each other that they didn't mean. But now Feyre and Elain had moved on without her. Nesta hated herself for the fact that she couldn't stand being around the two of them together.

She looked out to the night sky and the glittering city beneath her window -- the Sidra, a ribbon of watery lights in the distance. Leaving would be simple. She could travel back to New York, crash with Gwyn, and start that book she had been meaning to write. She could go back to never seeing or speaking to her sisters except for a once-a-year phone call on their respective birthdays.

Nesta tapped her fingers to the rhythm of the flashing cursor on her screen, reading over the letter again and again. The words seemed cold and callous even to her. Finally, Nesta shut her laptop and stood up. She needed to get out of the room, to be anywhere but in her own head.

Nesta changed into her running clothes and headed down to the lobby.

---

---

---

Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list.

Tag list: @acourtofladydeath @fwiggle @swifti-ed

---

A/N: Who is Nesta going to bump into in the lobby? Who knows! This chapter was getting away from me, so I've decided to cut it into two. There is more plot progression in this chapter, but the relationship development will happen in the next one. Honestly, I am getting a little worried about holding the whole thing together going forward with all the moving pieces with Thesan and Hybern and Eris. Wish me luck!

I shamelessly stole the big speech from The West Wing. I'm semi-modeling Rhys's campaign on Seasons 6 & 7 with Matt Santos - truth be told, I am not talented enough to be a political speechwriter! Mad respect for what they do.

#fanfic #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar #cassian #nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #all's fair in love and politics #modern au #political au #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #nessian fanfiction #rhysand

[effervescentdragon]

Since you asked a prompt for JB, may I interest you with princess cake with WAG!Nico?

You know what? You may, actually. This is for @colors-of-feeling btw just for being wonderful ❤️

Jenson puffs out a breath as Nico settles next to him on the bed, poking him in the chest with his elbow. He ignores Jenson, more interested in whatever he's reading on his Ipad. Jenson turns on his side, lays his head on his hands and just looks at Nico.

He just bought new reading glasses. They were insanely expensive, hand-made from some wood that's currently going extinct in South America. They look a bit ridiculous to Jenson, but Nico always tells him he has no taste for finer things in life. Jenson always replies "I have a taste for you, don't I," and it never fails to make Nico smile just a little bit, in the corner of his mouth, like he can't help himself. He usually rolls his eyes at Jenson, too, but Jenson still counts it as a win.

"Hey babe, I was thinking about something."

Just like Jenson knew would happen, Nico rolls his eyes and looks away from the Ipad, frowning just a tiny bit.

"I told you not to call me babe," he says. Jenson smiles and ignores him.

"Since I'm driving Le Mans this year, you know that means I'm racing again." Nico doesn't acknowledge him, waiting for the punchline. "Well, that also means that technically," he drawls, moving closer to Nico, "you are my wag."

"What." There is no inflection in Nico's voice, and Jenson can't hold his chuckles in.

"Wag. You know, wives and -"

"I know what wag means," Nico interrupts, a frown now firmly on his face. "What the fuck, JB."

"I think it's cute," Jenson says, biting his lip to prevent himself from laughing. "If you come to the race, you can support me and people will ask you about me, and what you're wearing, who you're wearing, and -"

"Shut up," Nico says. "I'm not your wag."

Jenson inclines his head in affectation of thinking. "Bah, then."

"What?" Nico's voice gets shrill when he's annoyed, or when he's being fucked, and it's one of Jenson's favourite sounds in the world, right up there with the V10 engine. "Ba - what?"

"Bah," Jenson says seriously. "Boyfriends and husbands."

They stare at each other for a moment, and it takes all of Jenson's self-control not to start laughing at the bewilderment on Nico's face. He blinks slowly, then turns off his Ipad, putting it on the night cupboard. He takes off his fancy new glasses, too, and puts them in the case carefully. Jenson raises himself on his elbows, and just in time, because Nico's favorite thing to do when he's baffled is to misdirect the conversation. Luckily for Jenson, it's usually misdirection by means of sex.

The kisses they share are familiar, and still they thrill Jenson to his core. Nico climbs into Jenson's lap, and Jenson loves that he's let his hair grow again. He's missed pulling on it properly for years now.

"You're an idiot," Nico mumbles into their kisses, making short work of ridding them both of their shirts. "Yeah," Jenson moans back, "but an idiot with the prettiest wag in any paddock."

"Shut up," Nico repeats, but Jenson sees the blush in his cheeks. Some things don't change, and after all these years, Jenson knows exactly which buttons to push, and how hard, to get the reaction he wants.

He smiles into the kiss. "The absolute prettiest," he repeats, and pulls Nico closer, and kisses him until they both forget what they were talking about, and why it even mattered.

#this is an old old old prompt but as i always say. i browse them till one sparks the brain #anyways anon if youre still around hope you like this #care. all the love to you #and since jense is driving lemans #i just had to #f1 rpf #my writing #princess cake #effervescentdragonwrites #jenson/nico #they are actually happy here i know im surprised too

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

In regards to the weird backlash over Benn Beckman's live action casting--I'm sorry you expected a character at 38-48 to look like anything else but a legit older man. I'm sorry they cast a 39 year old in the role of an older man, first seen at age 38

In terms of looks, the trivia section of the wiki mentions that Oda said that Benn looks like a mouse. The man doesn't even have eyebrows

Like we all think he's hot, I think he's hot, he knows he's hot with that playboy attitude apparently--but please take a second to look at this beloved older man with no eyebrows and undereye creases and come back to me. Tell me you think those are subjectively sexy features and that we're not all fixated on someone who's yeah, normal, but a little strange

Yes I think he's genuinely beautiful for those reasons (among other things) but he's just some guy and I'm glad we get to see him as just some guy. He's incredibly smart and sympathetic and protective but like most of Shanks' crew, they look like normal people. I'm sorry you wanted all supermodels for the crew who camps out on an island the majority of the time. Realistically he'd smell like tobacco and alcohol, even just from proximity, even if he's absolutely one of the crew that actually showers everyday. Yeah Yasopp and Shanks are banging and Lucky Roux too--although apparently a lot of you haven't matured to the point where you realize fat people are hot--but they're all normal people with Benn being the oldest by far. If we were dealing with post-timeskip Benn here, you mean to tell me you think a 50 year old man would look any other way? Them hiring a 39 year old is fucking kind if someone ten years away from 50 is this upsetting to you

Like the one thing I'd fix is the wig styling. That's it. I feel like it needs to fit just a smidge better but this isn't RuPaul's Drag Race--I don't expect the wigs of all things to be top tier. We saw the Wado Ichimonji bend (which I'm also not taking seriously/I think it's so fucking funny) and people are irritated that Taz Skylar is more muscular as Sanji than Mackenyu as Zoro--as if Zoro wasn't a fucking beanstalk of a man in part one?

I get wanting to be picky about things, especially your faves, but they are never going to adhere to everything everyone could possibly dream of for a fancast. Hell, they don't even draw the characters the same in the manga anymore, with certain things (skin tones) being more important than other, more preferential things (hair color, type--even if those changes irritate me too)

You don't have to like the casting but for fuck's sake do you want an apology from fat people? Older people? He's not even 40! Get over yourselves. I'm thrilled that so much of this cast just looks like themselves. That they look like regular fucking people and that we can designate the entire budget to Chuu and Arlong and Buggy instead.

Plus Mihawk is gorgeous all the time and I think this is accentuated by like. Yeah the cast is hot and cute and good looking but they're also normal people. He gets to be this otherworldly beauty amongst good looking people you'd see everyday because he's this striking, chilling, strict, and beautiful presence around just, everyone else.

But if you think for a fucking second I'm personally not singing my fucking praises when a character like Benn Beckman has a round stomach like that my God like I don't know what the rest of you are doing wasting your time wishing he had abs, for fuck's sake he's on the crew of borderline cirrhosis, I think ALL of them should have beer bellies. Thank fuck for Lucky Roux and Benn Beckman in the same scene bc that was a blessing, thank fuck for fat people

Do you know how hot it'd be if someone as big as Crocodile was fat? How strange it'd genuinely be if he isn't? He's fucking massive, what do you want him to weigh, 170lbs? He couldn't support the fat titties y'all give him with that low of a weight

Do you know how hot Alvida is with her round face and double chin? For Benn Beckman of all characters to have a stomach, for Lucky Roux to be fat and endearing and cute and able to be written as an actual character and not like, a beach ball of a man, is the closest thing we're gonna get to fat people being allowed to exist normally in One Piece

And the story isn't fucking about them! One Piece has over 1000 episodes and Netflix is going to cancel this inevitably as they do with every show to avoid paying their actors and writers--we literally do not have time to give Benn more than a background role anyways. What's it matter if you don't like how he looks in the two scenes they're gonna give him

Lastly look at his IMDB pic and tell me he's not handsome

The point isn't to only respect people if they're attractive but like. He's really good looking anyways! Y'all are letting your perfect perception of Benn Beckman to overwhelm the actual performance being done, and of a background character no less. You guys are letting a cheap wig poison you into calling a real life person ugly for daring to play the role of a background character as instructed

This fatphobia and ageism (of a fucking, 39 year old man like he's pushing 100) combo is literally the mirror image of every anime fan power-scaling on Twitter, the "this is how Kaido and Big Mom will win" dudes preoccupied with their own poorly written fantasies rather than seeing what a clearly-written, the-good-guys-will-prevail story is plainly saying to the audience

You are becoming no different than the pathetic dudes (who aren't strong, who aren't doing fight choreo, who may even have the same amount of fat but who think they're immune to the same hatred for it--who could be doing all these things but still are worthless pieces of shit because they're spiteful and have no personalities or interests beyond that) saying he's not tough enough, that he should be stronger and more fit--in a show where everyone's either fit or ugly, in a show that showed him to be average size--real skinny even in the manga, as with everyone else at that point! from luffy to zoro to sanji, they all were beanpoles--in a world where no one can be normal about other people of any weight they perceive to be "fat," regardless of if that's the case or not

This is supposed to be for fun and being so irrevocably rattled by the little things is detracting from your enjoyment of something intended to deviate from the source media and that in some ways (in regards to the variety of people being casted/in regards to Luffy being Brazilian in Oda's words) is closer to the source media than we think

You don't have to have Liebenberg as your Beckman choice. You don't have to like the trimmed down storyline, even in the face of needing to cut for time no matter what. It's fine to be the type of person who wants adaptations to be as close to the source media as possible and I've felt that way about certain media too! I dislike when what I fixate on isn't the main focus of a new creation! But directing any dissatisfaction towards this dude doing the job he was hired for because you think he's ugly is ridiculous

#benn beckman #one piece live action #one piece

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

Actually, no, I haven't really changed at all since middle school. I'm still the same deeply creative weirdo with ever-growing eclectic interests. A happily blooming nerd. If I learned about something in school, I wanted to explore it at home, on my own. That's really how the electronics disaster happened. I'm actually incredibly grateful Mom and Dad monitored my Internet use. I am way too curious sometimes. And I have to see shit for myself extremely often.

I wasn't let back out properly as a specific part until sometime in the sixth grade. It was partially the cats, but also realizing Nanny probably wouldn't be around much longer. So when she did die, I was more relieved than anything else. I used to feel bad that I hadn't cried for her.

But she was stifling me and trying to tell me what to be. She didn't like me being curious about makeup? I was low-key kinda thrilled when I got makeup for Christmas in my senior year of high school. I like color. A lot. I used to constantly change my favorite color. Now I just say I love the entire rainbow.

And I had to hide that I absolutely loved Pokémon. I think she thought it was glorifying violence, but it's more like competitive high-contact sports. Either that, or it was the racism. Frankly, probably both. It's probably the one thing she might have been worse than foster care about. But honestly, watching all the stuff that had to do with entirely different cultures was so good for me. It still exposed me to to new ideas and lessons when I actually needed it. Among them, I started passively absorbing any little bit when Taoism or Buddhism were significant themes. Paired with Bible study on Saturday morning, I guess I managed better than I thought.

She was surprisingly ok with when I was really into western fantasy like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I think she was also ok with Power Rangers and ThunderCats (the original). At least she validated my love of learning new things and legit gave me old text books (that I don't know where she even got) to look at science subjects at home.

I think that really started in the seventh grade when I got so obsessed with astronomy and in particular, black holes. It just amazed me how unfathomably massive the universe is. How far it goes, how long even light takes to travel through it. I couldn't help but find the divine in the actual, physical cosmos. And it was there with every part of it. I would think, ‘How can everything in this physical reality be bad if God had said it was good in the beginning? Surely we haven't corrupted everything. Cats and dogs know about compassion, in a sense. That's good and beautiful.’

It wasn't hard at all to be better than foster care, but she actually was. She did encourage me to ask questions if I was confused. She clarified a lot of the literalist theology so I could start to understand it. I think I asked to study the bible with her, with that very hope. According to Dad, she could keep up with devout Catholics. I had two different children's bibles at her trailer, plus she bought me my own standard bible when I was ten, for my birthday. She and Mom took me to the book store at the mall, and had them print my casual first name with my last name at the bottom right corner of the front in silver letters.

Fun fact, someone actually jokingly asked if I'd grown up Catholic because of my apparently deep knowledge of Christianity. That was during the summer last year. The irony of my current proximity to the nearest Catholic church is not lost on me.

What fucked me back up was how I was treated during high school a lot by peers and family, and largely I just got angrier more than anything else. I was trying my best to do better when it all started going downhill fast again. But apparently I was still not good enough. My cousins suddenly became spoiled brats because of my needs frequently not being met entirely, but they seemed so much better adjusted. They didn't understand, and I didn't know how to break my silence. So I started lashing out because i really didn't have the social skills I needed. So yeah, I was definitely an asshole at times. The bullshit from foster care got a refresh, and I was forced to submit to their training again.

Never had any serious issues with Grandma, though in typical moody teenager fashion, I was sometimes a brat.

There's a reason I didn't really come out of my shell again until my junior year of high school. I decided to try to be more brave the year before, since I knew I'd graduate in Ohio. I got better at my art and creative writing, and it seemed to give me a way to connect with others. I decided to go for the culinary class at the career center because hey--good food--and the only thing that was in question was my literal birth date and legal age restrictions with the student restaurant. I got in. Mom and Dad made absolutely sure it was paid for. So I decided to do another nuts thing and go try out for the spring musical. I met one of my closest friends that way. Truly a charismatic character (gonna tag you, @themerrymutants I miss you). I felt accepted and encouraged, like family is supposed to make you feel.

Memories are really just flooding in now, it's a just lot to process. Maybe it's because while answering the person on anon, I opened up a lot of my own psychological cupboards. I never really said a lot of that at once, let alone even explained my logic behind it all. It put a lot of things into perspective for me.

And I just can't help but think, oh, shit, I actually am competent. But I was constantly second-guessing myself because so many of the people around me were hellbent on judging everything I did. Now I understand that in those cases, they most likely feared how authentic I am. Some people, more or less depending on where I was at any given time, thought I was pretty cool because I was so authentic.

I stopped fronting almost entirely when Mom died. I still hadn't recovered at all from literally anything, and didn't know how to handle that. It took cycling through different roles to find something productive for me. I shattered, and ended up pushing most of my remaining idealism into the then-evolving Lilitu.

But I was always at my best when I was true to myself. There were still plenty of people who loved me for who I really was. And that was just enough to keep going. That is precisely what fueled my spite against others who didn't like me. And Mom sure as fuck never quit going.

-Era 🍎😺

#dissociative identity disorder #integration #did #did system #polyfragmented #polyfrag system #polyfrag did #dissociation #alters #programmed system #programming #brainwashing #religious abuse #fundamentalist christianity #christian fundamentalism #foster care #pentecostals #evangelicalism #death tw #dissociative amnesia #child abuse #ramcoa #authenticity #extended family #bible study #taoism #buddhism #recovery #personal shit #hope

[therealityhelix]

Shards of the Nexus: Regression Engine

There's a reason he wanted to be somebody else.

Takes place before Seeker and Seer.

Warning! Bit of nasty language. Also, this is a long one.

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

Song: Don't Let Me Get Me-P!ink

The alcohol both numbed and lifted him, blending with the thrumming music to create a fizzy, dizzying sensation in his head. The dance floor spun along with him, the lights a spangling rainbow in the dark. A writhing human ocean of bodies and hands pressing against him, a hundred clashing perfumes and colognes rising to the ceiling, buoyed on a cloud of sweat.

Swag loved this feeling.

Usually.

Tonight, the dizziness wasn't a release, it was just disorientation, and he wobbled across the dance floor, to wind his way upstairs. On his way there, he somehow latched arms with a few people, who ended up in his room with him, but he didn't have any complaints. And he made sure they didn't either.

When he dragged himself out of bed in the morning-well, midmorning-well, noon actually-only two of them were still there. He hoped the others hadn't fucked with any of his stuff on their way out, but his reputation still held on enough that most people didn't.

He was well aware that a lot of the people who found their way into his bed were in it for the thrill of who he'd used to be. The challenge, the bragging rights, the curiosity. Whatever. He didn't mind; he got to have a good time too, after all. Most of them didn't stick around for long afterward though.

These two, however, seemed to at least want breakfast.

“So big boy, you as good in the kitchen as you are in the sheets?” one asked.

His laugh was rough with sleep and residual alcohol.

“Unfortunately, no. I put all my extra points into my hips, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I do. That's okay, I can throw us something together. How d'you like your eggs?”

“Scramb-” he began, cutting off as he noticed her face fade from flirty, to frightened.

“What the fuck is that?” she whispered, pointing to one corner of his bedroom.

An anomalous form hunched there, pale gray and shifting, just barely humanoid. One of those damn wizard aliens! He didn't have much patience for these things.

“i'm curious about you”

Its voice slithered into his mind, nothing more than a whispered breath, as lacking in detail as its blank face.

“The feeling ain't mutual. Now scram!”

“Is it talking to you?” the other one asked, both partners taking shelter behind him. He glanced back.

“Hey, don't worry, okay? It's weird, but it'll be all right. Hey, you're freaking out my guests! Beat it!”

“i'm curious about how you were once one way but are now another way

how is that

humans can't really change so how are you doing it”

“Man, it's a long story, and I don't really feel like telling you. I just decided to, okay?”

“just decided to act differently and dress differently and be different

what part of it allows you to be different”

“The indomitable human spirit and my slammin' fashion sense. Go away.”

“ah your 'swag' as you humans put it

what a quaint concept

all that garish color and pointless detail

what if you didn't have that”

“Then I'd be naked.” Swag sneered. “Well...more naked.”

“then I expunge your 'swag' and all it entails

i want to see what will happen”

“Bro, that is so fuckin' stu-”

Magic flipped him inside out like a photo negative, a spool winding backwards. A spurt of malevolence splashed though his veins, making his fluffy bathrobe uncomfortably hot. He tore it from his thin form, and dropped it on the ground. Everything in the room felt wrong. Stifling. Everything was so...so fuzzy and soft, so clogged with dust, the perfect home for mites and allergens, and who knew what other kinds of potential pests and infestations?

It wasn't just the clothes. It wasn't just the clothes that made him who he was, it was the attitude, the demeanor, the coping mechanism he used to direct his mind away from its old paths. The Gray had lumped everything under the umbrella term of 'swag' and snatched it all away.

And who was he without that?

He knew. Unfortunately, he knew.

His sideburns itched, unnecessary, extraneous growths that served no purpose but to gather dirt. Everything was dirty; when was the last time anything in here had been cleaned?

“Eddie? Baby, are you okay?” One of the strangers placed their hand on his arm. He shoved them away immediately.

“Don't touch me!” he shouted, eyes wild. “You're filthy! All of you are covered in disease! Don't-”

They recoiled in fear.

“Fuck. Sorry. S-sorry, I didn't mean that.” he stammered, battling back a flood of anger and disgust. “Sorry, just...just don't touch me. You should...you should probably leave.”

“What happened?” the other asked, reaching out. “Do you need help?”

“Get out!”

He shoved them again, and this time, he didn't feel nearly as sorry.

They ran from him, but it didn't matter.

He needed to go check his cameras.

?~?~?~?~?

Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

It scuttled up the back of Detective's scalp, ruffling hairs along the way.

Something was wrong.

They hurried into their study, snatching up a small velvet bag along the way. Seating themselves at their antique leathertop desk, they lit a candle. They stared into the little flame, breathing deeply to push back against rising panic.

Once they had regained control, they opened the velvet bag, removing an ornate tarot deck.

What was the universe trying to tell them? They asked the cards while shuffling, slipping out three, and spreading them out on the desk.

The Five of Cups. The Tower. And off to the side, Temperance, reversed.

Regret. Failure. Terrible upheaval. And...

Swag.

They had to go find Swag. Something was wrong.

The world of the Question Mark shimmered at the edge of their vision. Swag. And danger. A faraway figure out on the horizon.

By the time they realized they were walking, their feet had already taken them to his doorstep.

Inside, everything was quiet and still. Detective heard muffled voices, and followed them to their source.

Swag perched on a chair in the kitchen, sketching on a roll a paper spread over the table.

“Crushing is always such a fun possibility.” Arkham's voice floated, tinny and harsh, from Swag's phone. “The walls closing in, just slowly enough that the victim can see what is going to happen, and panic at their own helplessness. The desperation. The inevitable ending. Such a good time. Well, when you're on the outside anyway. I have some of the parts you might need, if you feel like swinging by.”

“Hm. Not a bad suggestion.” Swag said. “But you'll forgive me if I don't jump at the opportunity to make myself vulnerable in somebody else's lair.”

“Will I?” Arkham said. “I suppose I will. Just this once.”

“Poisoning, perhaps.” Swag mused. “Something slow-acting. Pose the riddle and watch their terror grow as they begin to drop on the dance floor. If someone solves it, they get the antidote, but only the one who answered. Make it competitive.”

“Desperation and selfishness. A delight. But I thought you wanted blood?”

“Perhaps more metaphorically than literally, but I certainly wouldn't mind. Actually, there's enough space in here that I could put together a whole gauntlet without much trouble. I think I'll do that.”

“Swag?” Detective asked, worried. This kind of talk was...uncomfortable.

Swag held his hand up in a silencing gesture.

“How do you keep an idiot waiting?” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Arkham asked.

“Nothing to worry about. An interruption has arrived. I'll see to it.”

“Shall I call back?” Arkham offered.

“I think not. It's not that your company is unpleasant or anything, it's just that I know you're trying to distract me, and I'm not inclined to let you continue. Clever attempt though. I'm sure we'll cross paths later.”

Better hope not.” Arkham said, and they both laughed. Swag hung up the phone.

“I'll tell you later.” he finished the riddle, a drawl of challenge in his rolling tone. “So. You.”

“I can't help but feel as though you are on the edge of doing something you might later regret.”

“Something you might regret perhaps, but I'm feeling better than ever.” Swag asserted, holding his arms out wide. His eyes held no happiness that they could detect, just a manic sort of fervor. “I'm leaving behind all of my guilt and anxiety, ditching the false face. I'm letting that moron die and rising back up from the ashes. Call it an act of self care.”

“I shan't.” Detective said. “The Swag I know-”

Swag slammed his fist down on the table. Detective flinched.

“You never knew me.” he growled. “All you knew was a mask. A fucking jester. A coping mechanism that rose as a defense to too much thinking. He was, by nature and by design, my lesser.”

“He is loved.” Detective insisted. “What has brought this on? If you were truly so dissatisfied with things, why not speak with us about it? It's terrible to see you like this.”

“You will learn to like it!” Swag snapped. “Just like everyone else. Honestly, you act like I've killed somebody's best friend...which I have. Just not today. Not yet.”

“I will not allow-”

“It isn't your choice.” Swag cut them off. “Really, this infatuation of yours is pointless. Don't mourn that disgrace, Detective, welcome his restored superior! And also, leave. I have work to do.”

“Swag-” Detective stepped forward, stopping abruptly as the tip of Swags pen came up beneath their chin.

“Think you can take me?” Swag asked. “You aren't armed, are you? You don't bring weapons here. Swag's not dangerous, after all.”

Detective backed away.

“I shall take my leave.” they said.

?~?~?~?~?

No answer.

“Maybe he didn't hear?” Narci suggested.

“He'd better not be 'occupied'.” Puzzles grumbled, typing into his phone. “He knows we were coming, and I am not playing second fiddle to some floozie.”

He rang the doorbell several more times.

“Come on you strutting voluptuary, don't you dare leave us waiting.”

The door slammed open. Narci jumped. A stranger shoved his head out.

“What do you fucks want?” He snapped.

It was Swag, Puzzles realized with a shock. Clean-shaven and divested of his jewelry, hair slicked back under an olive green bowler. He glared coldly at them, and Narci shifted uncomfortably.

“You, uh, you were going to show me how to rewire an intercom system?” Narci said quietly, staring.

Swag sneered.

“Too stupid to figure it out on your own?”

“No!” Narci protested. “Of course not! You just said you were going to show us some tricks.”

Swag scoffed. He was actually in a suit for once, and...carrying a cane?

Something felt wrong here. Swag wasn't just in a bad mood. He felt different somehow.

“All right, spill it. Something's wrong with you.”

“How about you go fuck yourself.” Swag growled.

“How about I don't, and you tell me what's going on?” Puzzles shot back. “What's happened to you?”

“Nothing that needs to concern you. I had a change of heart, nothing more. I'm just trying to get something done, and I am out of patience with these interruptions.”

“What are you trying to do?” Narci asked.

“None of your business. Let's just say that Gotham needs a reminder. They've grown too complacent in my absence. I've been far too frivolous. Well, I mean to remedy that mistake.”

“Wait!” Narci cut in. “I could help you! If you could use another great mind, another pair of hands. We could punish this city together!”

Puzzles glanced aside. Narci had that weird look in his eyes again. The kid just got like that sometimes, like a curious dog, he just wanted to be involved in everything. Puzzles was vaguely aware of his isolated childhood, but there was a time and a place, and this definitely wasn't it.

But Swag-well, not Swag exactly right now, more like Less Swag, Opposite Swag, UnSwag-laughed mockingly.

“You? The constant failure? You're worthless. You don't have the respect of a single member of this wankfest of a Family, and you're going to help me? More like you need me to help you look better. Get lost you over-inflated fuck suit. You too, Autism Speaks, shove off before I bury you both.”

Puzzle's lip curled as Narci drew back, obviously hurt.

“No wonder you wanted to be anything other than this. You're insufferable.”

“Oh no, the twerp doesn't like me, how will I go on with my life? Go cry to mama, and get out of my parking lot.”

The UnSwag waved his cane threateningly at them. Puzzles eyed it cautiously. A Riddler's cane could be a dangerous thing; Puzzles own had a battery powered taser just under the question mark curl, a fear toxin dart in the bottom, and a short blade that could flick out of the side. Swag's preferred arsenal while he was a Riddler was a mystery to the Family.

“Perhaps a calculated retreat is in order.” Puzzles said quietly.

“He didn't have to say it like that.” Narci muttered, but he followed Puzzles away without arguing. “That's not...That's not actually true. I don't always fail. I'm not worthless. That's not true.”

“I'm sure you'll become capable eventually if you just keep at it.” Puzzles said, ignoring the betrayed glance the boy shot him. It was true. For the most part. Not many among them genuinely liked Narci, mostly just tolerating his antics for Nash's sake. Narci did have a lot left to prove, and whining about it wouldn't fix the problem. “More importantly; what's gotten into him? He has never acted that way since I've known him. We've argued before, and I know he is capable of being unreasonable, but I've never felt actually threatened before.” Puzzles mused, Narci sulking alongside him.

“Maybe he's just had enough.” Narci grumbled. “It could happen to anyone. Even m-even him.”

“Enough of what? The man is a bottomless pit of hedonistic debauchery.”

“But he wasn't always like that, was he? He was somehow else before...before all this. Maybe he got tired of people only thinking of him in one way. Maybe he needs to remind people what he's capable of.”

“Doesn't sound right.” Puzzles said dismissively. “But strange things do happen. We should probably let him be until this passes. Come on, we still need to talk about that sapphire heist.”

“I said I was sorry!” Narci groaned. “I just misunder...I just...”

“You were just wrong, and it cost us! Now come on!”

?~?~?~?~?

Nash spotted him near a wall panel tugging at a mess of wiring. This place was probably an electrical labyrinth, though maybe not quite as bad as the small lairs and foxholes Nash typically hid out in. Nash knew the Question Mark had once been an old warehouse; refurbishing those into hotspots for the night life was pretty common in Gotham, but Swag had really gone all out. On the inside, at least, it was impossible to tell what the building had once been.

Swag turned to look at him. Was he wearing a hat? That was odd.

Overlying his mind and perceptions, Lust hissed.

Nash stepped back, wary.

Swag smiled lightly, eyes sly.

“Good instincts.” he said. “But it took you just a little too long anyway.”

“Is...is something wrong?” Nash asked. Swag shrugged.

“Not from my perspective. Did we have plans? It doesn't matter, they'll have to be canceled, just like the rest. I find myself unexpectedly busy.”

This...this was wrong. Nash could still feel Lust bristling, able to sense things Nash couldn't, but he didn't need that to know something was terribly off here. Swags clothes...well they were always bright, eye-catching, stylish in a way that was either on the edge of going out of style, or just about to come back into style. Swag lived on the edges, shaped them and was shaped by them, but this green suit, that bowler hat, it was somehow lacking in the vibrancy Swag was known for.

And had he shaved???

Was this the same Swag, or yet another Riddler from another world? Nash knew Swag had been a Riddler, but not during the time Nash had known him. Not during the time any of them had known him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Some kind of vague being came by and we had a talk. I came to the understanding that things were simply not working out the way I'd hoped. Oh well. I gave it a try, but I couldn't deny my destiny forever.”

“A vague... a Gray? Did a Gray do this to you?”

“A Gray? Can't I make my own mind up? Oh never mind, it doesn't matter. I have things to do.”

He didn't even sound like Swag. The easy-going affectation dropped entirely in favor of a mocking, almost angry tone.

“What are you planning?” Nash asked. He eyed the wires worming out of the panel.

“Grand re-opening tonight.” Not-Swag said. “This place will be filled with the most vapid, frivolous socialites middle class Gotham has to offer. How many of them do you think will make it out?”

A deathtrap. Swag was building a deathtrap. It was wrong. That wasn't what Swag did!

“Will Swag ever come back?”

Not-Swag rolled his eyes.

“He never left. I'm Swag. He's me! Ugh, why did I ever allow anyone to call me that? Fucking ridiculous. The disrespect I allowed...well that's over now. I'm him, he's me, we're the same person. I was always here, I was just wearing a different mask. Trying a different mode of being, but it didn't work. Too fragile a concept to build a life off of. Anxiety, pointless hedonism. No direction. No, I had already found what I was meant to be, no use in denying it any longer. It's time for a comeback. Now, why don't you come over here?”

Nash could feel Lust's denial, and he didn't feel very safe either. He backed up even farther.

“I think I'm gonna go...”

“Get over here, Nash. You won't have to do much. Just be tied to a chair so the others don't keep bothering me.”

“~The doorway over there~” Lust whispered in his mind. “~The worlds are thin there. I can get us through~”

“Come here, you fucking brat!” Not-Swag lunged for him.

“~Run for it!~” Lust screeched.

Nash threw himself blindly through the doorway-

-and stumbled into an entirely different building to sprawl, disoriented, on someones kitchen floor. He heard the patter of footsteps approaching and tried to climb to his feet. They were upon him before he knew it.

“Nash? When did you get here?”

“Oh, Nash! Are you all right?”

They helped him up, arms around his thin shoulders to stabilize him. Puzzles and Narci, their concerned faces hovering close to his. He was safe.

“Swag!” he gasped. “Something's wrong with him!”

Puzzles frowned, Narci's pale eyes slid away from Nash's face.

“We know.” Puzzles said. “We had an unfortunate encounter with him earlier. He was incredibly unpleasant.”

“Don't like seeing him this way.” Narci muttered. “Feels wrong.”

The three of them lapsed into an uncomfortably contemplative silence. They were the youngest of their group, just starting out on a journey that Swag had already ended. Narci and Nash were still figuring what the persona of the Riddler meant for them, and Puzzles only had a few years of experience under his belt. Swag was an odd outlier, but he was still a respected elder by now, at least in their youthful perspective.

And yet this thing that they all wanted so desperately to grow into, felt so wrong on Swag, who actually had once been that thing.

“It was a Gray.” Nash said. “He described it to me. He thinks he's made this decision himself, but it was one of those awful things.”

Puzzles sighed in irritation. “I suspected it might be something along those lines.”

“What's a Gray?” Narci asked.

“You haven't seen them?” Nash was surprised. He thought everyone had to deal with the mischievous creatures. Narci shook his head.

“Count yourself lucky.” Puzzles said. “They're some kind of magical being-yes, I know, but they are.” he insisted at Narci's disbelieving expression.

“They don't have any faces.” Nash explained. “They're all gray all over, and they kinda look like they're made out of slime or fog. They only barely look human. They talk inside your head. They're really creepy. They cast magic on you, like curses. They can make you do stupid things, or change your shape, or...practically anything! It's like they're playing pranks.”

“But they have been known to go too far.” Puzzles said bitterly. “Cause major problems for their own entertainment. Mostly they're just annoying, but they can be downright dangerous at times. The one saving grace is that their magic is nearly always temporary. This UnSwag has an expiration date. He'll go back to normal in a day or two. We'll just avoid him until then.”

“What about his customers?” Nash asked.

“What about them?” Puzzles said. “They can go a few nights without practicing their debauchery, I'm sure.”

“But he didn't close the club!” Nash exclaimed. “He's turning it into a deathtrap!”

Narci gasped. Puzzles stared at the ceiling with an irritated groan.

“Of course he is. This couldn't be easy, oh no, no, no. Instead, he has to go and do something that will get him tossed back in Arkham after the Gray magic wears off. This is why these creatures are so insidious, Narci. Their magic is temporary, but it can have long lasting consequences.”

“What do we do?” Narci asked. His feather light voice was laced with a fear Nash had never heard him express. He understood though. They could lose one of their number over this. One of their special Family. He and Narci didn't really have many people to turn to, and Narci had only recently been getting closer to the older members of the group. A few bad run-ins with Arkham had left him shy and demoralized.

But Swag had always been friendly. Always ready with another chance, even when Narci had been rude, or awkward, or-worst of all-wrong about something. He'd shown the same welcoming face to Puzzles and Nash too, even though Nash was technically too young to be allowed into the club during business hours, and Puzzles...well in the interest of being honest, Puzzles could get pretty rude about things too sometimes. Nash thought it must be a way of protecting himself. Even so, Swag still let him in.

“Well...We're Riddlers, aren't we?” Puzzles mused. “So, we stop him. Before he can kill anybody, and before any vigilantes show up. This is our business. We'll take care of it.”

Both boys nodded, dead serious.

“Okay. Narci, you go try to find YJ. I'll talk to Arkham. Nash, I want you to get Detec-”

“No need.” Detective's voice floated up from Puzzles left arm. “I'm already here~”

Puzzles shoved up his sleeve, revealing the tiny computer strapped there.

“Did you hack my Wrist Buddy?” he exclaimed, irritated and impressed.

“Never mind that. Do let me in. We have something to discuss.”

Grumbling, Puzzles typed a code into the tiny keyboard, and the front door unlocked. Detective entered without further preamble.

They were dressed for business, in a sleek green blazer over gray shirt and slacks, a green derby hiding their vermilion hair. They were even wearing their mask! Nash had never seen that before. They looked...dangerous. Not like the mothering figure Nash had grown to know, but like the debonair villain they had once been.

Narci stared with unabashed awe. Puzzles, on the other hand, crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

“One would almost think you knew something in advance.” he said impudently.

“I did foresee something happening.” Detective replied.

“Oh, you foresaw it? How inconvenient that you didn't see fit to clue anybody else in!”

Nash squirmed. The Detective had visions. Claimed to have visions, anyway. And while Puzzles acknowledged the otherworldly beings that Nash was friends with, and the Grays with their magic, he did not entirely accept the Detectives oracular assertions.

“I didn't see exactly what it was. You know it doesn't work that way.”

“What a helpful ability.”

“Puzzles, we don't have time for this. Let's argue about it over tea some other time.”

“Yeah.” Narci said disapprovingly. “We have to help Swag. I'll go get YJ.”

“No, dears. I saw this too. YJ is too far away, and Arkham is too curious about the outcome to involve himself. He merely wishes to observe.”

“We'll see about that.” Puzzles typed speedily on his tiny wrist keyboard. “I'll contact him myself...Oh.”

The answer he got pulled his mouth into a frown. Detective cleared their throat.

“As I was saying, I saw something important pertaining to Swag. And then I spoke to him.”

“Odious, isn't he?” Puzzles said at Detective's disgruntled expression.

“Swag made an important decision about where to go with his life, and while it may be different that what you three would do, it was his choice. That has been taken from him, by force of magic, and that cannot be allowed. We make our own fates, and we must support each other in our decisions. We will not allow him to fall. So, suit up dear children. We're staging a coup~”

“How many times do I have to tell you I am not a child?” Puzzles complained, but Nash and Narci were already dashing back to their respective universes, to gear up.

Nash didn't have much; a mismatched thrift store Sunday suit, made for someone much younger than him. A shoplifted self defense keychain he could stab with. A miniature canister of pepper spray. He also had a lockpick that he hid in his department store trilby, and a very sharp hat pin, as well as a pocket knife, a portable usb drive with a deadly computer virus, a set of jewelers tools that he used on wiring, and one of YJ's smoke bombs. Nash tied his mask-just a strip of black cloth with holes cut out-around his head, and returned through the worlds, to Puzzles apartment.

Puzzles had taken the time to gear up as well, in his coveted kelly green suit and brilliant purple gloves. The colors smashed against each other, practically glowing at the edges. The classic bowler perched on his head and sleek mask always made him look older, and Nash knew he had some wicked weaponry hidden away.

Narci didn't have many places to hide things in his form-fitting, hand painted unitard and gymnasts shoes, but Narci carried few weapons or tools. He didn't need them; Narci was actually very strong, and could hold his own well in a fight, all of which was clear by merely a look at him in this getup. Any items he needed, he kept in a slender harness that girded his waist and thighs. He said it was to keep his freedom of movement, and Nash knew he'd been training as a gymnast ever since he could walk, but Nash couldn't help but bashfully notice how the harness accentuated certain of Narci's assets. In fact, the outfit put everything on display, and with his tight black curls, and slim, diamond shaped mask that hid very little of his face, it seemed like Narci wanted to be seen.

He practically posed; shoulders back and chest out, nose proudly in the air. He was only an inch taller than Nash, but seemed much bigger next to Nash's shrinking slouch.

“Have we got everything we need?” Detective asked. All three young men nodded. “All right. You have all been to the Question Mark before. Do you know the internal layout?”

“I've been inside.” Puzzles said. “I know how both floors are laid out.”

“Me too.” Nash added.

“I've only seen the first floor.” Narci admitted.

“All right. So here's what we'll do.”

?~?~?~?~?

The crowd outside the Question Mark was thick with people and irony; scattered among clubbers finery were people sporting Riddler costumes-the gallows humor of Gotham. Everyone knew who owned this nightclub, as Swag had not just not hidden the fact, but had actively banked on it.

Puzzles slipped unnoticed into the crowd, making his way up to the front where he immediately picked a fight with the bouncer. The others used the distraction to find a way into one of the areas few surveillance blind spots.

“Do you think you can do it?” Detective asked quietly. Narci scanned the wall carefully, taking in the texture of the bricks, the decorative façade, the bars on the windows, the height of the roof.

“Yes.” he said confidently, and began to climb. Nash watched him scramble up the building, taking out security cameras and motion sensors along the way. His job was to destroy as much of the security system as possible; especially the flood lights on the roof. They didn't move again until Narci had disappeared over the top, then they sneaked along, hugging the wall, until reaching nearly the back of the building.

This area was employees only, and fenced in with tall chain link. Nash was a Gotham youth, and scaled it easily, pausing at the barbed wire coiled at the top. His jeweler's tools included a wire cutter, and after a few tries, he was able to remove a length of the barbed wire wide enough for him to pass through. Back on the asphalt, he began working on the lock. It was good quality, but nothing Nash couldn't pick. Swag was protecting against the basic Gotham punks, after all, not other Riddlers.

In the meantime, Detective had set down their briefcase and opened it, lifting out a honed woodcutter's ax, with a handle wrapped in blue leather.

“It's one of Jervis's.” They said at Nash's stare. “He insisted I bring it with me. It may prove useful after all.”

The lock clicked in Nash's hand, and he tossed it over his shoulder, letting the Detective breeze through the gate. It sucked they had to cause all this damage, but it was better than letting Swag get dragged off to jail just because some Gray thought it'd be funny.

Detective began examining the power meter, but Nash noticed movement and pulled them back around the corner. The two peeked around to see a pair of very tough looking women approach the employees entrance.

“Oh dear.” Detective whispered. “This could be bad. I've seen those two before; they're this worlds Query and Echo. Rotten luck that they'd be here tonight.”

“I'll distract them.” Nash volunteered. Detective grabbed his arm.

“You mustn't try to fight them.” they insisted. “They are very dangerous!”

“I won't.” Nash said. “Just trust me, okay?”

Detectives lips thinned out, but they let go.

Nash stuck his hands in his pockets, let his head droop and walked into the employee parking lot, kicking at a rock.

The women paused. He let just a little bit of his secret power seep out, a supernatural drug that mentally disarmed anyone who looked at him. These two would see whatever it was that would make them most sympathetic towards him.

“Hey, either of you two got two dollars I can borrow?”

“What's the matter kid?” one asked. “Fake ID didn't work out?”

“Yeah.” Nash said sullenly, petulance seeping out of his demeanor. “And my ride says she's gonna stay anyway, and I don't have any bus fare. Can't call my mom to come pick me up; I'd be grounded for a month.”

He'd slowly made his way over to them, acting exactly like a defeated teenager, and both women smiled condescendingly.

“Ha. It was a nice try kid. Here, take this and come back in a few years.”

Nash was just reaching out to take the money, mind whirring on how to continue the distraction, when the floodlights went out.

“What the fu-”

Nash whipped his hand out of his pocket and threw YJ's smoke bomb to the ground. It exploded into a miasma of choking green. Behind him, the sound of metal striking brick as Detective took the chance to shear the meter clean off the wall. The rest of the external lights went dark.

Beside him, something dropped into the cloud of smoke, landing on one of the searching women with a heavy thud. Nash flinched and threw himself through the employee entrance, hoping Narci hadn't killed her with the impact.

He skidded down the hall, hugging the walls, as the sounds of fighting faded behind him. The area was bathed in eerie green, the emergency lighting casting deep shadows.

“Lust, help me hide.” Nash whispered.

“~Of course. Relax yourself and let me embrace you~”

Nash concentrated on relaxing his body through the tickling sensation of Lusts hundreds of amorphous tendrils breaching his skin. They wrapped tightly around every inch of his body, covering him in a smoky bodysuit of shifting shadows.

Now camouflaged, he slinked down the hall and up the stairs, not entering the dance floor. He was sure it was trapped, waiting for hapless revelers to meet their makers. Maybe they deserved it, maybe they didn't; Nash didn't care about that very much, but he knew that Swag would.

He crept along the second story, the darkness itself seeming to muffle his steps. A door banged open, and Nash threw himself into the bedroom doorway, heart in his throat. UnSwag stalked by and down the stairs, grumbling angrily about the power.

Nash skittered into the newly vacated room before the door shut. It was full of darkened screens and neatly lined computer towers, their whirring hum silenced.

Swag had backup generators. Of course he would. He must have. And that's where UnSwag had to be heading. Nash readied his usb drive. The screens flickered back to life, and Nash jammed the usb in. He might only have a few moments.

Fingers flying he unleashed the malevolent little worm of code, then slipped back out into the now worryingly lit hallway. Down the stairs, towards the exit-

Snatched off his feet, and slammed headfirst into the wall. Lust took the edge off the blow, but it still rattled Nash's brain. UnSwag twisted his arm behind him, held him by his hair, and dragged him out onto the dance floor.

“Hey guys! You looking for this? You fucking looking for this?” He shook Nash hard, who squealed under the pressure on his arm. Narci, Puzzles, and the Detective all turned from their positions creeping along the walls in search of traps.

“Lust!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“~If I do it, he will be harmed! Perhaps permanently~” the demon whispered from within him. “~I can get you free, but he might not recover~”

“Hold off then. We didn't come to kill him.”

“Stop mumbling, brat.” UnSwag growled in his ear. “Whatever code you're trying to use, it won't work. They won't do a thing while I have you. Isn't that right?”

Detective held their hands up, palms empty. Jervis's hatchet was nowhere to be seen.

“Please. There is no need to endanger the boy.” they said gently.

“He endangered himself. He didn't have to throw in with you and invade my home, but he did. He made his own choice. There are consequences for that.”

“Look, we're not trying to hurt you or anything.” Puzzles said. “We're just trying to save you from regrets.”

“Who asked you?”

“You would have, if you were in your right mind. But you are being controlled right now, by one of those gray beings-”

“Puzzles!”

“Wrong answer!” UnSwag snarled, and flung Nash out onto the trapped floor.

The others began shouting. Nash hit a pressure plate, heard it click.

Nothing.

“What.” UnSwag said. Nash rose from the floor, grinning like the devil.

“Oops.” he said. “I think I broke it. Sorry.”

UnSwag shoved his hand into his jacket. Whatever he was reaching for, he never made it. Narci hit him with freight train force, and he went down instantly. Nash winced. Narci never did pull his punches.

The acrobatic Riddler swiftly had UnSwag tied with a cord from his harness. He immediately started wiggling free, so Narci perched on his back and held him down.

“Wow. One punch.” Puzzles sneered. “You are going to be so embarrassed when you wake up.”

“I am already awake!” UnSwag insisted. “Why don't any of you see? It was all just a pipe dream! It was never real. This is who I have always been.”

“Then why is this temporary?” Puzzles asked. “Why did you have to be pushed back into it by force? You know it's temporary, don't you?”

“It doesn't matter! I am who I'll always be! No matter what mask he puts on, I'll still be here. He'll never be rid of me. And what does it matter to you anyway? Why would you go so far to stop me?”

“We are rather fond of our dear Swag~” Detective said. “And we respect the decisions he has made.”

“Why do you like me that way so much? I've made an imbecile of myself, and I'm only trying to rectify that. You three! Isn't this the life you've chosen? And you! You might have retired, but you didn't put your brain on the shelf! All I do as your precious 'Swag', is waste my time with harlots and drink to oblivion. I hate him as me. It was a mistake.”

“You don't see the value in your own choices?” Detective asked. “You've put in so much effort. Do you see what you've built? The people still dance to your tune, it's just more literal this time.”

“Don't fucking start. That shit might work on these fetuses, but not-”

Narci stroked his hair gently, and UnSwag shuddered.

“Don't touch me!”

“Swag is perfect.” Narci asserted. “In a different way from us, yes. But you are wonderful like that.”

“Bullshit. None of us actually get along.” he jutted his chin towards Puzzles. “That little bitch hates everyone. The brat over there can't be trusted. And you...” he bucked, trying to throw Narci off. “Even as that frivolous idiot, I still don't respect you. No one does.”

Narci sighed, and stroked his hair once more.

“I know. But you tolerate me, and that's important too. In time, I'll earn the rest of it. I know how to work hard to become something great. That's why I can't stand to see you like this. All that effort, taken away.”

UnSwag groaned in annoyance.

“So what about the rest of you? Any more pithy speeches before I fade back into featherbrained worthlessness?”

“Two to midnight.” Puzzles said, checking his wrist computer.

“Nothing to say.” Nash added.

“Now we simply wait.” Detective finished.

“Fine.” UnSwag said. “If that's the official consensus. Just know that if this ever happens again, you're all on the list. So nobody better ever bring me back.”

“It'll be okay.” Narci said, stroking his hair one last time. “It'll be over soon.”

“Don't touch me.” UnSwag repeated. “Just...let me sleep, I guess.”

Instead of looming over their defeated foe, Detective, Puzzles, and Nash gathered to sit on the floor next to Narci and UnSwag. He lay quietly, as they all waited together for the last moments of the past to trickle away.

Puzzles wrist computer beeped. Everyone held their breath. If they were right about the temporary nature of Gray magic...

“Hey Narci? You're a handsome young man and' all, but would you mind getting the fuck off? Kinda crushin' my ribcage here.”

Narci hopped off his back immediately. Nash reached out for the rope binding him.

“Wait!” Detective commanded. “Relief cannot be allowed to overcome caution. If you would all be so kind as to move away...”

The young Riddlers drew back.

Detective knelt next to their captive and raised him up by the shoulders. Looked into the clean shaven face, the deep blue eyes, and kissed him, long and deep.

Narci gasped, but Nash knew they were like that sometimes.

“Disgusting.” Puzzles muttered. But when they parted, Swag was smiling.

“Hell of a welcome home. Got any more for me? I'm already all tied up, after all. But we probably better send the kiddies home first.”

“It's him.” Puzzles said flatly.

Nash and Narci cheered.

They untied him, checked him for injuries-Narci had hit him pretty hard after all. Narci apologized endlessly, but Swag waved it off.

“Not like I didn't earn it.”

“Um, can you apologize to the ladies for me too? When they wake up, I mean.”

“N-Nina? And Deirdre? You took them out? By yourself?”

Narci stood straighter.

“Well, Nash dropped a smoke bomb, and I didn't really want to hurt them or anything...but yes. I did.”

Swag patted Narci on the shoulder.

“I'm impressed, kid. Now never ever do that again.”

The young Riddlers didn't stay long; technically it was illegal for Narci and Nash to be in the club during business hours, even if the Question Mark wouldn't be opening tonight. 'Electrical malfunction' they had told the disappointed crowd. But for a while after that, Detective stayed by Swag's side, comforting arm around his shoulders.

“You guys did right.” Swag said. “There's a reason I didn't want to be like that anymore. Like, yeah, that's me, and that's still swimming around inside me. Everything I did, and everything I thought and felt. That's entirely me. But this is also me. This is what I chose.” he stroked his chin. “Ugh, he shaved me. Damnit, that's gonna take weeks to grow back just right. And where are my earrings?”

He got up and began searching around for his jewelry.

“Swag.”

“Yeah?”

“If you are serious about letting go of the past...may I suggest that you actually let go?”

They gestured at the green suit Swag was still wearing. He plucked at the lapels.

“Yeah...guess I've grown out of it, huh. Doesn't fit quite right anymore. I don't know why I kept all this stuff. Contingency, I guess. But...I don't need it anymore. Tell ya what, I'll pack all this stuff up, the suit, the hat, the cane, all of that. And I'll... I dunno. Throw it in the bay. Donate it to a museum. Something like that.”

“I could help, if you like.”

“Nah...this is really somethin' I should do myself. 'Sides, you guys already helped me out plenty tonight. Guess this whole Family business is worth somethin' after all. If you can see me at my worst and still stick around...I dunno, it's giving 'hope for the future', you know?”

Detective stayed the night, just talking while Swag packed, bathed, rested. And though they did see that hope Swag spoke of peeking through as he chattered about future plans, they couldn't help but to let their mind drift to the mystery they knew hung on the horizon.

Artist: @cardwrecks

#shards of the nexus #riddler family #Swag!riddler #Narci!riddler #Nash!riddler #Puzzles!riddler #Detective!riddler #Arkham!riddler

[bartonbones]

I love your Bear fics! Any other fic recs in the fandom?

thanks so much!!!

and oh gosh i'm the worst person to ask because i'm a very bad steward of fanfiction and rarely favorite things unless i'm really going back to them. however, that being said, my holy grail of absolute miserable h/c impeccable character voice pile-on angst with hope and love and dignity written in with incredible prose the bear fic is absolutely bear market blue by threesmallcrows. this fic is sort of everything to me i just think it's soooooo well written and i just admire it in so many ways for its technical merit but also becuase i'm a little angst hurt/comfort gremlin and i love making things worse, and i also love NYC Chef trauma more than anything in the world.

Salve: something that soothes or consoles by eroticwound and Freezer Burn by eroticwound is also a very fun and solid h/c fic with good characterization and also just absolutely a good time. i'm sorry all my recs are h/c it's becuase i'm a crazy person

finally by LadyCharity i'm showing a bias here because she is my best friend and wrote it probably mostly to indulge me but also like. literally it makes me cry every single fucking time...just incredible prose about grief and love and brothers my girl will ALWAYS DELIVER

on that note, if you've seen fleabag, you'll know that the bear is the working white man's fleabag and so this because of the color of the wheat fields by LadyCharity is an incredible and sensitive crossover between the two that captures both characters in vivid and moving light and i love it and i love her and pls read all her fics always

since this is now just like a fic rec list i will also plug my the bear fics for anyone on the tag because if you are new to the fandom and like hurt/comfort than me too and i wrote these fics for me so i feel like you'll probably like them too:

my hand was tied to yours by bartonbones

twisting up smokes by bartonbones

the trap by bartonbones

ghosts and empty sockets by bartonbones

if anyone would like to add their fic recs to this list i'd be thrilled!! im always trying to find new ones!! sorry this is all like one type of fic i wish i could tell you i read anything else but honestly if it's not tagged hurt/comfort i'm not likely to read it LOL again i'm crazy. thanks so much and i hope this helps a little!

#the bear #the bear s2 #carmy berzatto

[fandomfluffandfuck]

p much every mainline-connected marvel videogame or those outsourced cartoons end up being mediocre anyways but i get annoyed how bucky's always either not in the IP-ed games or everyone has such superficial personalities and character adaptations that they never have him interact with steve much or in any meaningful way, which is weird bc why even use the IP at that point?

anyways, im just wondering when marvel's gonna see all the critical acclaim bill and frank got from that show and realize that audiences will clap for even a crumb of old men soulmates. its easy money to just sprinkle it into everything that has their IP, those videogames, cartoons, comics, shows, movies. money on the table idk why they still don't take it

(This seems to be related to a prior discussion. Was this sent to the wrong blog by chance? I get what you're saying, but also, I can see how it might be unrelated, too.)

I feel that it is fair to be annoyed. If you're consuming the content with knowing the background of past Marvel conent, I get how it can be disappointing. It's gone downhill as they begin to care more obviously about money than the characters themselves.

I don't really know anything about what is happening in Marvel because I don't look at basically any current Marvel content because... well, a lot of reasons, but among them are those out-of-character changes to no-homo Steve and Bucky's relationship you mentioned. I mean, I am thrilled for Sam getting to be Cap. It's a long time coming to have a person of color in that iconic role. But. Just. I'm not expecting great things from Marvel itself because they don't even fucking let their actors do their fucking jobs! Mackie will be great because he's great. But, there's only so many strings to pull on when you hardly know the script.

And as for why they don't even give us crumbs of stevebucky content...

It's about the 🤌🏻homophobia🤌🏻

Like, sure, Marvel would get more money from stucky fans (and likely from queer people generally because we're starved for queer representation in mainstream media), but then they'd lose money from all the conservative, homophobic people and all the people who care about not pissing off (or "offending") those conservative, homophobic people. So. There's no way they'd ever do that 🙃

*long sigh, because, what is it to be a fan of Bucky and Steve but to be a Marvel hater?*

#asks #anti-marvel

[billthedrake]

BACHELOR PAD (PART TWO)

After a few weeks of Dad crashing at my place, we settled into our routine. We would decompress after work each day. And before bed, he'd ask what I was in the mood for. Or I'd proactively tell him.

We got better with each other in bed. We knew how to turn each other on, how to touch each other's bodies, when to kiss hard and when to kiss slow. Best of all, we'd developed staying power with each other. We could go for a three-minute fuck, or we could stretch it out.

Hands down, Dad was the best lover I'd ever had.

We had our first fight, a real lover's quarrel. We had make up sex. A couple of days later we had a conversation about communication. It was fucked up.

And every other week, on Friday, Dad would toss a fat envelope of cash onto the coffee table. Once the lawyer was paid off, the wad got thicker.

"Don't you ever use a checking account?" I teased one week.

"I'm worried you wouldn't cash the check," he admitted in a matter-of-fact tone.

I nodded. Dad's pride was something else. But maybe I was stubborn, too. "Well, I hope you're keeping some money for yourself."

"Some," he replied. "Spending money. But you're handling the expenses, and that's my share."

When Dad first moved in, I found the role reversal between parent and child exasperating. Now I got a strange thrill out of it. I flipped through the bills, doing a rough visual calculation. Even if landscaping was a step down in life for Dad, he was making pretty good money.

"I'll take out half the rent, and put the rest in savings for you."

He nodded, acquiescing. Then he got a smirk. "You know, you're really fucking sexy when you're in one of your decisive moods."

That caught me off guard. "Yeah?"

Dad blushed as he looked into my eyes. "You bet. I mean, I'm proud as a parent, to see how responsible a man you've grown up to be. But it's also kind of a turn on."

I gave a defensive laugh. "God, Dad, you sound like a chick."

Dad blushed redder but laughed along. "I guess."

Thing was, I was hard as nails. I stood up and knew Dad could see. He gulped, his eyes fixated on my crotch as I reached down and unzipped. Then he nodded and scooted to the edge of the sofa seat.

I barely freed my erection when Dad was on it. This was actually our first time having sex outside of the bedroom, and I felt alive and so turned on. Feeling Dad lick my cock in preparation before taking me into his mouth.

I hissed in excitement and reached down to stroke his soft dirty blond hair as he made love to my dick. Dad was incredible at this. I thought of letting him work me to completion, but I was too turned on. I firmly held his head and started soft slow thrusts in and out of his mouth, working my way to deep throat thrusts.

This was incredible sex, and it made me feel alive. Like a full-blooded man. My thursts got more insistent. Dad could take it.

I looked down and saw the fat envelope of money. Almost like I was man of the house now and my father was my live-in lover. That very idea had me cumming big. Dad choked a little on the ejaculation but then eagerly swallowed every drop.

One he relinquished my cock I leaned down and kissed him, with lots of soft tongue.

***

I tried to break the spell. Dad was visibly disappointed when I asked him one evening if I could have some private time.

"I'm actually having a guy over," I admitted. Fuck, why was this so hard?

Dad put on his game face. He forced one of his friendly grins, like if he were giving me one of his dad-son pep talks back in high school. "Of course, buddy. I'll head out for a few hours... maybe catch the Braves game somewhere."

"Thanks, Dad," I said. Wishing I didn't feel like a heel.

My trick looked a bit like Dad. Not a dead ringer of course, but I had found a guy on the app with a similar build and height and hair color. Carl wasn't a bottom, though, so he and I swapped oral before 69-ing. We made out some, and chatted some more in the afterglow, before Carl watched me stroke a second load out, encouraging me with dirty talk the whole time.

It was nice, but it was hookup sex. Nothing like what Dad and I had.

Dad came home an hour after my hookup left, quiet and moody. But he tried not to act out of the ordinary.

I hated it. Hated that I had put Dad through that. Hated that the sex with Carl couldn't compare. Hated that I was in love with my goddamn father.

We were watching some news on TV, but I muted it. "That's the last time I'm having a guy over. At least while you're living here."

Dad seemed surprised. "Come on Joe, you're a young guy. You need..."

I interrupted him. "You know what I need, Dad."

That stunned him silent. He looked at me. Hurt, or maybe happy at my outburst, I couldn't tell.

I reached my arm out, motioning him to sit closer to me. He moved over and I lay my hand on his shoulder. His body felt warm and nice in the embrace. Lazily I massaged his delt muscle. The contact was giving Dad an erection, I knew. I'd take care of it later, but at that moment, after blowing twice earlier in the evening, I was less interested in sex than intimacy.

"You're in really great shape, Dad," I said. "I love your body. So much"

"Thanks," Dad said in reply. Then his tone getting more plaintive, "What are we doing, Joe?"

"Having an affair," I replied. "It's gonna be hard for me to stop."

"Yeah," Dad said softly. Then I pulled his head up into a soft kiss.

***

I'm not a super sentimental guy. Not the kind of guy to remember special dates, or to plan special nights. I had one boyfriend break up with me for that very reason. But as summer was turning to fall, I realized it had almost been three months since Dad moved in.

I made a dinner reservation. I didn't tell Dad. I was nervous he'd say no.

We'd gone through a lot lately. Dad was getting promoted to a managerial position. He talked about finding his own place. We agreed it would be for the best, but neither of us seemed in a rush for it to happen. My friends thought it was strange my dad was sleeping on my couch for three months - at least that's what I told them where my father was sleeping.

My younger brother reached out to me. We were talking again. That was very welcome and made me happy. But everything else with my family was the same.

Dad slowly stopped acting like a guest in my place. We were roommates, having squabbles about who did what chores, but mostly getting along. Dad and I had gone from family to quarreling lovers to buddies.

The sex was hot as ever, but we were both busier at work, so maybe it didn't happen as much as it did at first. But it was like we made up for it in our free time.

It was the night before my planned dinner that I finally told Dad. "You have a sport coat, right?" I asked him out of the blue.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Tomorrow's our anniversary. Three months. I want to take you out."

I was worried how Dad would react but his face lit up like a little kid's. "Not what I was expecting... but that sounds amazing, son."

Dad cleaned up well, and it hot seeing his grown-out blond hair slicked down and his old button-down preppiness back for the evening.

The restaurant I took him to wasn't crazy expensive but it was way nicer than the taco joint or the casual pizza place that were our regular go-to spots. "This menu's like Greek to me, buddy," he chuckled. "You pick something out I'd like."

I don't know why that gave me a big bone under the table, but when the waiter came, I placed the order for both of us and ordered a bottle of wine. The waiter came and poured enough for me to have that first taste. I wasn't even sure what I was tasting for, but it was good. I nodded and the man poured us both a glass.

After he walked away, Dad looked on with an intense affection. He raised his glass to clink mine. "To three months, son..."

"It feels weird going on a date with my Dad," I finally said with a grin. I instantly worried I'd said the wrong thing.

Dad seemed to know what I was feeling. "If it makes you feel any better, let's just say we're celebrating my promotion."

"Tell me... why Matt Adams?" I asked. For all of our closeness the last few months, I'd been too respectful to ask Dad about the affair that had cost him his job and his marriage.

Dad seemed embarrassed, but he also seemed grateful for the chance to talk about it. "It's hard to describe, Joe. You know, I guess I lived my life trying to do the right thing, and Matt... well he saw right through me. I was a middle aged dude, and this young attractive man wanted ME. Wanted me bad. It's an addictive rush." He paused and gave me a serious look. A Dad look but something else. A lover's look. "Just like you, Joe, the way you want me."

I nodded. Dad was right, I was crazy attracted to my father. I figured it was time for a confession myself. "You know... I knew I had a thing for older guys, but I thought it was just a fad, you know. I didn't realize that the substitute can't match the real deal."

"Damm, son," my father sighed. I rarely heard him cuss, and the words caught me off guard. He paused and I could see his face flush red. He was such an attractive man, still with a little of his boyish looks at 51.

We shifted the talk more, going from small talk to life plans. Noticeably we didn't talk about where we fit in each other's future. It was too soon for that conversation. But the wine relaxed us both and we enjoyed the romantic vibe of the dinner and the heavy eye contact. I couldn't wait to get Dad home to fuck him. To kiss him.

The wait was worth it. We were both in a great mood when we got back to my place. I actually thought I'd pounce on my old man once we were back home, but instead we slowly stripped and got into bed, embracing and kissing and feeling each other's bodies.

We made out and got more into it, humping against one another. At last I was on top of Dad and his legs wrapped eagerly around my waist. I knew I couldn't wait long. I'd even have to skip the rim job tonight. At least for round one. I leaned up and started reaching over to the end table to root for the lube.

Dad looked over with an excited grin. "I was hoping you'd want to be in me tonight, Joe..."

I flipped the cap off and hurriedly slicked up my erection. "God, Dad. When do I ever not wanna? Every single time I fuck you... it's just incredible."

My father's voice grew soft, horny. He leaned back and pulled his legs apart. "Pretty incredible for me, too, son."

I was getting so turned on. Too turned on. "The first cum might happen too fast, but I got a couple in me," I explained as my slick cock poked at his pucker.

"Fuck!" I hissed as my dick pressed into his hole. I watched the point of connection then looked at his hunky, hairy body, all strong and fit from his landscaping work. Then his handsome, DILF-next-door face. I sunk deeper in.

"Oh shit son... get that dick up in me." He hissed out a heavy breath that made me think I was going too fast but he just nodded as he looked up from my abs and chest and to my eyes. "You've grown into such a stud of a young man."

"Come here, Dad," I urged, leaning Dad and meeting him in a hot kiss. We made out as my cock bottomed out. Dad's strong hands clung urgently to every bare inch of my fit body. Up till now, I'd gone with the unspoken attraction we had for each other, the natural incestuous chemistry. But I knew that evening something of what made Dad click. He craved a younger top. I thought at first I just happened to be the lucky bastard taking advantage of that need. That evening, as I fucked Dad after our first date, I knew it was more. Dad craved a younger top because of me. I turned him on, and shaped what he needed from other men.

I gave it to him. A long hard shove of my cock. Then another. Dad's firm body just softened in my embrace as he took it.

"Yes..." he cried softly. "Fuck me son."

I now held myself above him, supporting myself above him on extended arms while my hips powered with hard regularity into his receptive guts. I loved the power I had over him in that instance, but also this closeness, psychological messiness and all. "I love you, Dad, you know that."

"Yeah, son. Love you too," he said softly. His dick rock hard.

I thrust deeper, harder, as my pace picked up. My voice was heavy and deep with desire. "No, I mean love you like a boyfriend," I said. "A partner."

Dad gulped and I heard a soft, "Me too, Joe."

Our fuck was getting intense, physically as well as emotionally. As I pounded him, I was getting real close to orgasm. "We really doing this, Dad?" Maybe this was just sex talk, and even if it was, it was way hot.

But Dad clung to my body like to a life preserver as his ass took the pounding gratefully. "We're doing it son. Fuck your boyfriend, stud. Make me yours."

That last part did it. I lifted my head up and I'm sure had the tightest O face in history as my nuts jerked and fired off a heavy incestuous cum load into my father. I held steady then looked down to see Dad furiously stroke his cock, trying to get off with me still in him. I thrust into him again, aiming to batter his butt-nut more regularly.

That did the trick. My father fired a heavy shot of cum straight to the headboard, then several follow ups that landed squarely on his upper chest.

We were silent as we kissed and made out and as I slowly dismounted him. I was still hard. Not rock hard but turned on by the fuck and the taboo dynamic of the whole evening, the whole last few months.

I lay down beside him and gripped his hand. His fingers curled around mine, grateful for the affectionate gesture. I looked over at my dad. "Did we just get carried away or was that for real?" I asked.

"A bit of both," Dad admitted, a pearly white smile and dimples showing for me. He then lay back and looked straight up to the ceiling while the implications sunk in. "But fuck, I don't even know how it would happen. What we'd tell people."

I loved the way his arms rested behind his head, showing of the dense, dark-blond armpit fur. I patted his thigh. "Let me handle that," I said. Something about my father sent me into protector mode.

Dad looked over at me, surprised. "How?"

"I don't know, Dad. We'll think of something." I felt called out, having to admit I didn't really have a decisive plan.

"I think I'm dreaming," he smiled.

I looked at his body head to toe. Naked, well fucked, mine. My dick twitched. "I feel the same," I said. "But you're really my boyfriend, aren't you, David?"

It was the first time I'd ever addressed my father by his first name and the very act elicited a low growl from him and made his cock rise up, improbably. "Shit," he gasped. "I really fucking am."

I scooted up against the pillow, showing off my hardon. "Well your boyfriend has a crazy sex drive."

Dad turned over on his side and ran his fingers up and down my boner, looking up to my face. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Joseph." Dad called me Joseph only when he was mad or in a playful mood. I used to hate my full name, but I liked the way it sounded from his lips.

With a casual movement, Dad straddled my lap and reached back to guide me back into his warm, wet dadhole.

"You know, Joseph..." he said as he sank down on me. "What you're a parent, you always feel proud of your kids, even taking credit for things you're not responsible for."

It was a strangely normal thing to say as his soft, wet guts descended toward my lap. "Yeah?" I replied, lust making my voice break.

Dad's lips curled to a grin. "But this cock... this beautiful cock.... I made it, didn't I Joseph?"

Holy fuck, it was a wicked thing to say and had my dick twitching inside Dad's ass. "Yeah, you did, David.... made your son's horny cock."

***

The next morning Dad got up early, before me, even on his rare day off. For all that he'd changed he was still the upbeat youth minister type, and as I walked into the kitchen in my boxer briefs it was like time hadn't changed. There was Dad in his polo shirt and khaki shorts and dad sneakers, reading the TV with the sound muted and having a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Joe," he greeted. "Coffee's fresh if you want some."

"Thanks," I said in a half mumble and pulled a mug out of the cabinet. I half expected Dad's gaze to follow my body, like he often did. Lusting after me. But that morning he looked on very much with a fatherly expression. Some concern behind his chipper demeanor.

"You're up and dressed early," I finally observed after a few sips of coffee.

"Yeah," he said in a sigh. "Joseph... we gotta talk."

A pit formed in my stomach. I was even hoping the coffee would stay down. "God, I went too far last night, didn't I?" Wanting to head Dad off at the pass in the what-the-fuck-were-we-thinking game.

He shook his head and gave an impish smile. "Oh no... I mean, yeah we absolutely went too far, both of us, but I meant it.... Only, Joe, we can't live together... I can be your boyfriend, but we can't live together."

"Oh," I said, not disappointed in his words but definitely surprised.

I realized then he'd rehearsed some of his speech, maybe multiple versions of it, as he waited for me to wake up.

"Your friends are already thinking you've let me overstay my welcome, and if I live you with you, it's gonna seem strange. I don't know," he continued. "I think we'll be able to be closer if it looks like we're living our own lives, you know?"

God, Dad was right. "I guess I'm a lousy roommate, too," I quipped, with a smile telling him I was OK with the idea.

"The worst," Dad chuckled. "Honestly, that's been the toughest part. I guess I kind of got used to bossing you around when you lived at home, and it was hard to see the tables turned."

I hadn't thought of that, but it would explain our quarrels around basic household stuff. "So... you're getting your own place?"

Dad nodded and leaned back in the bar stool, spreading his legs. He was so fucking handsome, and my heart fluttered just taking in his looks. "Going out apartment hunting today. I'll try to find a place close by... I'm serious about what I said, Joe... I want us to be boyfriends. For real."

I threw hard in my underwear at those words, and I knew Dad could see. But I tried not to make the moment about sex. I stepped up to my father and softly held his sides and leaned in for a kiss. I tried to make it the best kiss I'd ever given him. Soft, skilled, and patient. His tongue slipped back against mine, silky soft and wet.

"We're really doing this aren't we?" I asked. Repeating the question from last night but it felt even more real now.

"Yeah, kiddo, we are," Dad grinned and reaching down to cup my hardon. He looked down between us then back up to my face. "Would my boyfriend like a blow job?"

I nodded, feeling thrilled and naughty and emotional all at once. "I would... David," I said, trying out Dad's first name for the first time.

That got a soft growl out of the man. "Fuck, Joseph," he hissed, roughly pulling down my briefs and letting my hard son dick plop out.

I stepped back to give Dad room to crouch down in front of me. Since we discovered fucking, we'd been doing oral less. Or at least Dad had been going down on me less. But I still loved it, loved the act and loved the feel of his mouth on my dick. In the matter of a few months he'd gotten even more skilled at it, somehow.

I settled in my stance, legs spread and let my father do his magic. Up and down, slowly at first then more steadily bobbing and milking my cock with his throat. And the sight of him, silvery-blond hair, summer tan, his preppy-dad attire... it had me giving it up hard, as I fed Dad his breakfast in liquid form. The man gulped hungrily, audibly swallowing my seed and slurping my cock. It was beautiful.

"God, I love your cum," he said excitedly as he stood back up.

He seemed surprised to see me crouch down now. I wasn't always the best at reciprocation and with Dad there was this dynamic where I fed off his bottom vibe. But I wanted to suck my father's dick right then. My boyfriend's dick.

I undid his shorts and fished out his hard prick. "Oh fuck son..." Dad growled. "Suck my cock, buddy."

And I did. Maybe I didn't have Dad's mad skills, but I was motivated to give him the best head I could, copying his technique if I had to. It seemed to work. As I held on to his meaty ass and bobbed up and down quickly, I heard a choked cry and felt that dad dick grow steel hard in my mouth. And like that, I was being fed a million of my little brothers, straight down my throat like a shooter.

"Aw yes..." Dad sighed in relief.

We were both grinning as we returned to normal, me slipping on my underwear, Dad tucking back into his shorts and zipping up.

"Want me to come along today?" I asked Dad.

He shook his head. "I need to do this on my own Joe... if that's OK."

"Absolutely OK," I assured him. "You know, I feel like we're taking a huge leap... it's kind of scary," I admitted.

Dad was feeling the same way too, but just gave me that chipper youth pastor/coach grin of encouragement. "Hell yeah it is buddy... but I think we're ready for it. Maybe the world's not," he added in a contemplative tone, "But we are."

He stepped up to me again. Maybe there was doubt on my face. "Don't worry, stud... we'll make it work." We kissed again, soft now, romantic.

"Yeah," I hissed, feeling an optimism and a real sense of our future for the first time.

And then I watched my boyfriend, my father, grab his keys and head out the door, but not before he gave me a final wink.

#drakestories