Merry Magpie's Mess

Too many fandoms and gaining more everyday. Old enough to drink and pay taxes, to my everlasting joy. Far too emotionally attached to men made of literal pixels. Done with people and desperate for coffee.

[oceanaesthete]

"You guys are so...in love." Your son said from his place, watching you and Chuuya bake, or attempt to.

Both of you stilled for a moment, glancing back at him. Chuuya's hand still lingered over your wrist as he helped you stir the mixture. You raised a brow at your teenage son. "huh...?"

Your son pulled his gaze away when he saw his father give him a sharp glare. Stuttering his words. "I mean...parents usually stop liking each other after years. You guys are at that age and the biggest fight I've seen you two have was you yelling at dad to keep his hands off you."

Right, parents usually fight, have silent dinners and sleep on the opposite sides of the bed. Your son probably heard his friends talk about their own families and was confused. Years of relationship, having two kids, all the stuff you two went through; nothing changed, you two just fell in love more. Still went to weekly date nights, watched films on the couch cuddling, acted all sappy.

"Is that a bad thing?" Chuuya's hand rested on your waist, turning to your son. You glanced at Chuuya before going back to the recipe. "He's just trying to say we are too perfect compared to other parents."

Chuuya sighed. Putting his chin back onto your shoulder, mumbling. "As if I'm not supposed to be obsessed with you or something."

Your son buried his face in his hands from embarrassment, groaning. "You guys are doing it again!"

[fangirlingpuggle]

Thinking about SVSSS AU where instead of LBH finding SY as an eldritch beast within the abyss instead LBH becomes one.

LBH within abyss not driven by revenge but desire to be with his Shziun again who knows dangers of possessed weapons and powers of Abyss from SQQ many lessons. Who doesn't go for Xin Mo but instead finds other ways of power (Airplane having completely scrapped all the plans about heavenly demons and connection to the abyss early on as he realized no one wanted lore expect peerless cucumber and abyss arc would just be suffering and papapa)

Instead LBH gaining power to shape and control abyss. He can't escape to SQQ but he can bring him here.

SQQ whose widow modes are interrupted by demons and cultists? Who were not in plot and who are all trying to kidnap him. Not hurt him in any way.

Him very confused and neither him or Airplane know what this plot thread is.

SQQ kidnapped either during widow period or in Jinlan city stolen away in chaos.

They talk about offering to their god form abyss? SQQ is very mcuh wanting to protest what god? the abyss certainly has no god in PIDW? Oh wonderful he's kidnapped by crazy people.

He's very shocked to see a tear to the abyss?

What's happening in their oh god is Binghe ok? If plot stuff is happening in abyss is affecting him? I mean protagonist should be ok but-

His thoughts all kind of grind to a stop when he sees beast beyond all comprehensions that turns in Binghe the lotus has become blackened in a way he did not expect.

LBH beaming Shziun is now with him in the abyss that he's made sure no one else can enter. Does it still count as attic wifing when the attic is an entire realm that he controls?

Bonus very clingy giant eldritch tentacle beast Binghe, everyone else screaming in horror as spin torn apart while SQQ is blushing and lightly hitting him with fan calling him sticky.

[ponury-grajek]

happy birthday light yagami you deserved all of this that happened to you <3

[ponury-grajek]

Mello, don't bother him at this hour about such a mundane thing, it's only 8 am 😩

[jiiin22]

the bravest human

[red-garden]

PIDW Liu Mingyan who only wears white. She’s grown serious over her long life, morose from regret of how her actions condemned her shijiemei to death. She is more stateswoman than any of her sister wives, feeling responsible to manage this new world well, trying to wash the blood from her hands. She used to write. She doesn’t anymore. The only things she reads are laws and aid requests. The only hint of color in her outfit is the bit of blue embroidery on her veil, made from one of her brother’s uniforms. She carries three swords now. Her own, as well as the reforged blades of her brother and her master. She never uses them. She rarely leaves the palace. Even so, she itches for their hilts when she sees her husband. If she thought for a moment she could win, she would cut that man’s head off, just the same as her own master’s head was severed. But he knows better than to let his gaurd down near her.

PIDW Sha Hualing dresses in “proper robes” now, as humans would call them. No longer is she a saintess, sent to bring glory to demon kind. Now she is a general. There’s a piece shaped like her on the war table, moved across countless maps. Silk scarves and bells are impractical. She has reason to protect her skin. Plates of leather and thick fabrics obscure her figure. She has an axe now, no longer so juvenile as to rely solely on her claws. She hates it. She hates all of it. She is so full of hate and frustration these days, but the constant war takes it all out of her. When she’s finally able to lie down, there’s nothing left.

PIDW Ning Yingying wears only the finest, heaviest silks. She leaves her rooms in no less than 10 kilograms of fabric and jewelry. Her hair is heavy with gold, her fingers clawed with gems, her breast clinking with jade. She keeps a fan in one hand— her collection now big enough to use two a day and never repeat one in a year. She does not do anything useful for her husband or the kingdom, and she rather prefers it that way. She masters every instrument, reads every text, sees every play, and hisses at anyone who dares to tell her to try harder. By now she must be the most knowledgeable scholar in the world, yet she will not lift a finger to help those below her. Why should she? She is a part of the problem after all. Her life is built on the suffering of millions, the deaths of billions. There is nothing she can do to change or stop this, so why try? She has accepted that she is now the lowliest of scum, and she is content to remain passive in the face of this fact. Why do anything else?

[red-garden]

Qiu Haitang wears travelers clothing most of the time. She avoids the palace as much as she can. Having born witness to a hundred young men and women, the sole survivors of households struck down by her husband, she can’t stand to stay there any longer. She lives on the road, helping people where she can, only crawling back when she runs out of money. She never uses her real name anymore. She covers her face with a weimao just in case. She’s not sure she could stomach it if people recognized her, and cast her out with the vitriol she deserves.

Qin Wanrong wears eunuch’s clothing most days. After decades of sharing a pavilion with her sister, being dressed with her sister, being called on by their husband with her sister, she grew weary of it. Qin Wanrong is not her sister. They are not a combined being. And having noticed her husband’s aversion to her sister, Qi Wanrong wants no seat on a sinking ship. Qin Wanrong manages the harem as best she can. She suppresses the more violent women, presents the most well behaved to the emperor. Being 8th wife has its advantages. No one dares challenge her. She keeps not peace, but order, as much as one can. She is a solitary, definite figure— the female eunuch, the underground palace’s constable. She ordered the construction of her own pavilion. She created her seat in the emperor’s council. Those within this palace must earn her respect first before they ever hope to advance. Her husband has no part in this.

Little Palace Mistress— No, Water Prison Master— wears a thick, wool uniform most days. The water prison is a dark, cold place, and the frills she preferred in childhood no longer suit her. Some say she barely looks human anymore, face obscured with a mask, body cocooned in padding, belt clinking with weapons and tools and the instruments that ride the line. She doesn’t care what people say of her or see in her. Her job is important and she enjoys it. Her husband gives her ‘people’ and she breaks them like horses. She is good at her job. The best. The only one he trusts to do it right. She can’t help but scoff at the spoiled young women who crop up in her household. How silly they all look now. No, she prefers to stay underground, a place she hardly needs light to navigate anymore.

[zhelin-thames]

Part 1

[3 days earlier – Danny’s apartment]

[Doorbell rings. Danny opens door.]

Talia al Ghul (with zero context): “We’re having a family dinner.”

Danny: “...Okay? That’s not ominous at all.”

Talia (stepping in uninvited): “Also. Who is this lovely creature?” points at Jazz, who’s halfway through microwaving leftover mac and cheese

Jazz (blinking): “Um. I’m Jazz. Danny’s sister.”

Talia: “I’ve always wanted a daughter.” turns to Danny “Keep her.”

Now – Location: Demon’s Manor, somewhere Extremely Gothic and candlelit Attendees: Ra’s al Ghul, Talia, Damian, Jazz, Danny and Tim (the only 2 who r dressed like it’s a casual date night)

Ra’s (grinning like he just got his Christmas wish): “So. Timothy. You are courting my grandson.”

Tim (trying not to choke on wine): “...........Yes.”

Ra’s: “Excellent. I always said you had the makings of a perfect heir.”

Danny: “You tried to kidnap him when he was fifteen.”

Ra’s: “And yet he turned out so well. Clearly, I was right.”

Damian: “This is why I have trust issues.”

Talia (to Jazz): “I’ve already cleared a training room. I can begin your blade lessons next week.”

Jazz: “I’m a psychology major.”

Talia: “Perfect. You’ll know exactly how to break people. We’ll make a proper assassin of you yet.”

[Halfway through dinner – sudden crash. Door swings open dramatically.]

Jason Todd (in a leather jacket, holding a wine bottle): “Sorry I’m late, I brought booze and trauma.”

Danny: “Jason??”

Tim (startled): “What are you doing here??”

Jason (shrugging): “Mom invited me.”

Danny & Tim (in sync): “MOM??”

Talia (sipping tea): “He had potential. And rage. And bloodlust. I thought he’d fit in.”

Ra’s: “And he survived death. That makes him very interesting.”

Damian (counting on his fingers): “So to summarize: My biological brother is dating Tim, my adopted brother. My mother wants to adopt my biological brother's adopted sister. Jason crashed dinner because apparently he’s our brother now, too. And Grandfather is trying to draft Tim into his next apocalypse again.”

Jason: “That sounds about right”

Tim (quietly): “I think I need to lie down.”

Danny (still eating like this is normal): “This is honestly the least weird dinner I’ve had this month.”

Jazz (raising her glass): “To found family. Blood bonds. And extremely awkward dating choices.”

Jason: “Cheers to that.”

Ra’s: “Next time, we host at the Lazarus spa. We’ll invite Constantine too.”

Tim (horrified): “PLEASE don’t.”

[thatweirdocryptid]

DpxDc: multidimensional party (inspired by a Tom Cardy song)

Tim wasn't the type of person to party. Like ever.

So when one night in the manor's garden a Lazarus green doorway opened up with a voice coming from inside, before he was just forced into the "interplanetary ballroom" with a bunch of weird, sometimes comprehensible or incomprehensible beings.

And what the hell was the "Transcendental Cha Cha Cha?"

[----]

Or instead of Danny becoming the ghost king after he turned 18 or whatever age or when his dimension died. He became the ghost zone's and beyond DJ, and his new name was DJ Phenomena. And the zone or infinite realms itself REALLY like it and decided to just give him full control and take a nap however long.

And it was GREAT being the DJ

His once human form as a ghost was replaced with a green space-lile entitiy with multiple floating hands, stars making rings around his waist like a belt. Wearing a black and white suit with a beyond neon green bowtie

So when the first human(there were quite a few of 3d perceiving entities) came through! He had to make it the best time this human ever had!

Awee... He looked a bit scared! But everyone is scared at first!

[----]

[after the manor]

"hit the Dancefloor, chachacha" Tim sung softly as he made some tea.

"What's got you in this mood replacement?" Jason asked, leaning on the counter, noticing how he wore more brigher clothes, even for a born gothamite.

"Ah, just a song stuck in my head." he waved off...

Jason shrugged it off while everyone else(or idk this is a prompt) had suspicions...

Whoever you choose witness Tim getting ready for what it looked like a rave for what he was wearing, sneaking out of the window and going through a Lazarus green doorway, very giddy aswell..

[radiantworm]

There is an art tutoring program in gotham academy! (idk how these things actually work so just pretend it's actually a thing.)

and Tim, because he's Tim, decided to sign up his favorite little brother, afterall, damian loves art and he's a beginner artist!

seeing the look on Damians face was worth being chased with a knife.

but to everyones surprise, Damian actually ended up quite liking his art tutor.

in fact, he seems to be listening to every advice, and writing them down?? he is as determinant in listening to him as he was listening to his teachers in his assassination days

which should have set off a bunch of alarms really, but the batfamily is just happy he got himself a new friend and seemed to be less hostile, a win is a win.

Damian was reluctant at first to listen, or even engage with his "tutor", the guy was only a few years older then him, and he was attending gotham academy, which from experience, Damian can say for sure is filled with idiots.

but Dani- Danny Fenton, has turned out to be an excellent conversation partner, and even a better artist.

he seemed to understand Damians artistic endeavours, and even gave good advice

one time, they couldn't finish their piece at the academy, due to a rogue attack, so Damian invited Danny to the manor, it just needed a few touch ups

Tim has been glaring at his tablet for the last 70 minutes, inhaling his energy drink like it was oxygen, he had missed school that day,("I have an important case! just one day bruce please?, I'll catch up to my sleep, pinky promise.")

so when he heard the door open, meaning Damian was back from school, he decided that there is no better break then annoying his baby brother

"Hello Damian, how was your tutorin-HSG" Tim chocked on his drink at the sight of them,burning sensation going up all the way to his nostrils and out of his nose.

"Tt" damian tsked at the sight "is that a way to welcome a guest Drake?" he huffed, dragging Danny Fenton with him to the art studio.

"Hi Tim" Danny waved with a smile as they passed the choking teen, Tim heard him whispering to Damian.

"is it ok for him to drink that while he's sick?..."

"Tt, he's just skipping." Damian said, in a normal tone, to Tims academic rival, his crush,his favorite barista in his favorite coffee shop, the Danny Fenton who Tim has been trying to flirt with for the past year.

ot seems that Tim has shot himself in the leg with this one.

and of course, of course Damian would catch up, and of course he'd only invite Danny when Tim is at his worst states, without telling him beforehand, and "accidentally" walking in on him wrestling Dick and losing or sobbing over his broken coffee machine.

and of course everyone in the family loves him, he's sweet! sunshine reincarnate, and has a positive influence on Damian.

so of course no one believes him when he tells them that Danny Fenton is a menace who is determinant on making Tims life specifically as miserable as possible, either by flirting with him in his own home and rendering him speechless, or at school and making him stupid for the rest of the day

but nooo, Tim is overreacting, Danny has just said hi, he just waved at you tim get over it, he just adjusted your shirt collar and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

but when the family who grew too attached realize that they won't have any excuses to invite Danny over when the tutoring program is over?

Tim hears a screetch as someone drifts down the hall, then his door slam open, Damian standing there with a desperate and feral look "Drake! you must seduce and marry Danny!"

"IM TRYING!"

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Heyy same anon from the kpop demon hunters question! Gonna try and not spoil the movie for my request lol, I loved the movie and its message and Ik Jinu wanted to be free but GOD I want him back so I NEED to have him and reader having first time + emotional yearning sex after he comes back in some way plzplzplzplz (Whether reader is a huntrix member or not is up to you haha)

A/n: still fuming about what happened to him, annny who. I hope you like it!

The blood on your hands isn’t yours.

It’s slick and warm and staining your shirt as you clutch Jinu to your chest, half-dragging, half-guiding him into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alive.

But here he is.

Breathing—barely.

“Shit,” you choke out, lowering him gently onto your couch. “Jinu—how—?”

“I missed you,” he says instead of answering. His voice is hoarse, cracked around the edges, like something burnt and broken and still clinging to the memory of being whole.

You press trembling fingers to his cheek, daring to believe what you’re seeing. His skin is pale, his side is bleeding through his shirt, but it’s him. The boy who had sacrificed himself to save you. The boy who vanished in a flash of demonic light while you screamed his name.

“You died, Jinu.”

“I came back.” He shudders, reaching for you with blood-streaked fingers. “For you.”

You break. Collapsing into his chest, you cry against his collarbone, barely noticing the way he winces in pain, arms wrapping tightly around you anyway. You feel like you’re breathing underwater—like you’re drowning in disbelief, relief, and aching joy all at once.

He’s here. He’s here.

“I thought I’d never feel you again,” you whisper into his neck.

His voice is ragged. “Then feel me.”

Your eyes meet his—soft golden, wet with unshed tears. There’s no teasing in them now. No idol’s smirk. Just raw, exposed want… and grief and yearning and need.

You kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate. Frantic. A crash of mouths and teeth and breathless gasps as you straddle his lap. His blood seeps into your clothes, but you don’t care. You cup his face, fingers trembling as you kiss him like it’ll tether him to the world again. Like you can kiss him into staying.

“Tell me this is real,” you whisper against his lips. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “I only feel real when I’m touching you.”

You tug off your shirt, stripping off the remnants of battle-stained clothing. He watches you like you’re something divine, eyes devouring every inch of bare skin as if memorizing you is the only thing keeping him alive.

“Lie back,” you breathe, guiding him down carefully, mindful of his injury. You straddle him again, skin pressed to skin, and he groans as your lips trace his throat.

His cock is already hard beneath you—hot, twitching, and aching with the same hunger you feel in every nerve ending. You reach between you, guiding him to your entrance, both of you gasping when the tip nudges your pussy.

You sink down slowly.

His hands clutch your hips, trembling. You feel every inch of him stretch you open, fill you, claim you like he was meant to be inside you all along. Like his body remembers yours.

“Oh, fuck—Jinu,” you moan, grounding yourself with your hands on his chest.

His voice is wrecked. “I dreamed of this. Every second I was gone, I dreamed of being inside you.”

You ride him slow, bodies molded together like you’re trying to erase the days, weeks, months of loss. Every roll of your hips is a promise. Every breath is a prayer. His eyes don’t leave yours, even as they flutter with each tight clench of your pussy around his cock.

You’re crying again—you don’t know when the tears started—but they fall silently down your cheeks as you move above him. Jinu reaches up, thumbing them away with infinite tenderness.

“I didn’t die for the world,” he says softly, “I died for you. And I came back because… I couldn’t stay gone. Not from you.”

Your body trembles, your climax cresting like a wave of holy fire—raw, sacred, blissful. You gasp his name as you come, pussy clenching tight around him. He cries out beneath you, hips bucking as he spills deep inside you, arms crushing you to his chest.

You lay there for a long while, tangled in each other. Breathing each other in. Hearts pounding in sync, his fingers weaving in your hair keeping you close.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his.

“I won’t,” he vows. “Even if I die again, I’ll find a way back. I’ll always find you.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clung to him as you slowly nodded your head. You believed him and like Jinu, you would find any way to bring him back.

Because he was your soulmate and you'd never leave him behind.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Tim: I've fake a injury for a year to keep my secert identity.

Jason: You only did that because you have a thing for the physical therapist.

Tim: AND?! Danny is cute!

Dick: That's a concern. I'm calling the company and replacing him for Danny's own safety.

Tim: Do you not want my imaginary leg injury to heal!? We paid so much real money for it!

Damian: I would rather pay for someone to heal your mind, but I know not to throw money into an unrealistic endeavor.

Jason: Yeah, like buying wedding gifts for him. Tim is never getting someone to agree to tie the knot.

Damian: Says the man who can't get a second date.

Dick: Damian! Stop it! Bruce cannot afford all the therapy these two need. Dont make it worse.

Danny: ....So our session ends in 40 minutes, do you want to go for a walk or maybe a swim???

Tim: Hold on dear, I'm defending my honor.

Damian: Can't defend what you don't have.

Tim: Listen HERE-

Danny: I'm going to set up the pool. I think we need to cool off

Danny leaves the room and runs into Bruce: Oh, hello, Mr. Wayne.

Bruce: Please call me Bruce! It's always odd when my son's boyfriend is so formal.

Danny: About that... turns out I was wrong. Tim and I are not dating. That was my bad.

Bruce heartbroken: No. You guys were my favorite couple.

Danny nodded sadly: Me too. I guess we can't do those in-law fishing trips anymore.

Bruce: But who will help me put the worm on the hook!

Danny: Maybe Jason?

Bruce: Jason? He hates fishing. He always gets distracted by reading. Oh Danny, is there any way you could get back together with Tim?

Danny: I mean, I can try, but apparently incorrectly assuming we were dating is going to make it difficult. I thought his pretending to get hurt to see me was just a joke; I didn't realize he was being serious. Hell, he never actually did physical therapy; we just worked out together, each doing thier own set and routine. We even cuddled afterward. How would that have been a regular PT?

Bruce: I'm sorry, my son's an idiot. He didn't get that from me. He's adopted.

[itssocomplicatedyeah]

Imagine: You were absolutely sure the communal showers were empty.

For one thing, it was late. For another, most of the Cleaners had already scattered after the mission, disappearing into their rooms, the kitchen, or wherever else they usually went to collapse after a long day. And, most importantly, you had listened before stepping inside. No footsteps. No voices. No familiar heavy stomp of boots.

So, with a perfectly clear conscience, you shut the door behind you, set your things down on the bench, and finally allowed yourself to breathe.

The hot water hit your shoulders, washing away dust, exhaustion, and the last stubborn traces of your terrible mood. You closed your eyes, tilted your head back, and almost decided that maybe the day hadn’t been so bad after all.

Almost. Because the very next second, the door to the shower room swung open.

“Damn, finally,” came a familiar voice. “I thought nobody was in here...”

Enjin froze in the doorway. You froze too.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The silence between you was so thick that even the sound of running water suddenly seemed suspiciously loud.

Enjin stood there with a towel slung over one shoulder, already out of his outer clothes, though thankfully not yet fully committed to walking into the showers like he owned the place. His amber eyes widened. Then he blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, very slowly, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling.

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Enjin.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Enjin.”

“You could even say I was born blind.”

You grabbed the nearest bottle of shampoo and hurled it at him without thinking. Enjin dodged it far too smoothly for someone who had just claimed not to have seen anything.

“Aha!” you snapped, peeking at him through the steam while covering yourself with your arms. “So you can see well enough!”

“Reflexes,” he said calmly, still staring very hard at the wall. “My life is full of danger.”

“Your life is about to end if you don’t get out.”

“Fair.”

He took one step back. And, of course, that was the exact moment his foot slipped on the wet floor.

You barely managed to squeak:

“Careful!”

Enjin flailed, reached for the doorframe, missed it completely, spun in the least graceful way imaginable, and somehow managed to catch himself at the very last second. The towel on his shoulder, however, gave up on him entirely and slid solemnly to the floor. Both of you stared at it.

Then Enjin said, with complete seriousness:

“It sacrificed itself for my dignity.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, but the laugh slipped out anyway. At first it was quiet and muffled, then bright, helpless, and impossible to stop.

Enjin glanced at you, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Glad my humiliation improved your evening.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, still laughing. “It was a very respectable performance.”

“I’d bow, but I’m afraid you’d misunderstand.”

“Enjin!”

“Leaving. I’m leaving.”

He bent down to grab the towel, but you instantly hissed:

“Don’t look!”

“I’m looking at the floor.”

“I know you.”

“That’s because the floor is the only one not accusing me of anything.”

You snorted. Towel in hand, Enjin began backing toward the door again. This time with extreme caution. Almost majestically, if not for the fact that he was moving sideways like the world’s most suspicious crab. And it might have ended there. It really might have.

If you hadn’t said:

“You know, for someone who asks me for a light all the time, you lose your composure surprisingly fast.”

He stopped. Slowly, he turned his head, though his eyes remained very honorably fixed somewhere on the wall beside you.

“That was unfair.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re clearly in the winning position here.”

“I’m naked in a shower, armed with shampoo.”

“Exactly. Absolute advantage.”

You narrowed your eyes, though he could barely see it through the steam.

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“Me?” Enjin pressed a hand to his chest, looking so deeply offended that anyone else might have believed him. “In the middle of such a serious crisis?”

You gave him a silent, knowing look.

“Yes. I’m flirting,” he finally admitted.

You laughed again. This time, it came out a little more bashful than you intended. He smiled too, but not with his usual smugness. This one was softer. Warmer. The kind of smile that made your chest tighten in a way his teasing never quite did. And somehow, that felt much more dangerous.

“All right,” he said at last, stepping back behind the door. “I’ll leave. I’ll stand guard and protect your sacred right to personal hygiene.”

“How noble of you.”

“I’m a very noble man, actually.”

“You barged into the showers.”

“Accidentally barged into the showers. Very important difference.”

“And nearly fell.”

“That was tactical.”

“And lost your towel.”

“It fell heroically in battle.”

You shook your head, but your smile refused to go away. Enjin had almost closed the door when he paused again.

“Hey.”

“What?”

He still wasn’t looking inside. He stood just beyond the doorway, one hand holding the door, his voice a little quieter now.

“When you’re done… I can walk you back to your room. Just in case there’s more dangerous wet floor on the way.”

The hot water suddenly wasn’t the only reason your cheeks felt warm.

“Is that an excuse?”

“Of course.”

“A terrible one.”

“I’d call it creative.”

You were quiet for a couple of seconds, then turned your face away, as if that could hide the smile in your voice.

“Fine. Wait outside.”

There was a brief silence from behind the door. Then Enjin gave a pleased little hum.

“Understood. Guarding.”

“And don’t listen in!”

“What, are you planning to sing in there?”

“Enjin!”

“Okay, okay. Silent.”

And, to his credit, he really did go silent. For about two minutes. Then his voice came through the door again.

“Hey… was that my shampoo you threw at me, or someone else’s?”

You covered your face with one hand.

“I told you to be quiet.”

“So it was mine.”

And despite the embarrassment, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you laughed again. Because no matter how hard you tried to stay mad at him, with Enjin, it almost never lasted long.

[ryoride]

ⓘ FEATURING : college au, mean-looking but sweet sukuna, explicit smut, male masturbation, teasing, penetrative finally, pet names & not proofread.

virgin!sukuna didn't feel the need to make a big deal over his virginity.

He had many other things to worry about than getting intimate with the first girl that'd try—world domination, not dying, calculus, and graduation. Sex was the least of his worries.

virgin!sukuna had never put much thought into how it'd be to lose his virginity, how it'd feel. Not until the day he first laid his eyes on you in biology & had the perfect distraction for the rest of the year.

virgin!sukuna didn't look like he'd be a virgin, not with all his tattoos, his piercings. In all honesty… he looked far more like a fuckboi dickhead than a virgin—which was precisely why you spent the year adamantly avoiding him after a failed flirting attempt. Much, much to his dismay.

virgin!sukuna had done just about everything to try & get your attention, from sitting next to you in class, borrowing notes, starting conversations, to going to shitty parties he thought you'd go to.

virgin!sukuna finally had his breakthrough when he saw a drunken pervert trying to touch you at a party & promptly beat his ass, before you asked him to walk you back to your dorm.

That walk changed everything, for both of you.

virgin!sukuna ended up being the complete opposite of what you thought he'd be. He was cracking lame jokes just to try & keep you laughing, swapped shoes with you because you kept stumbling over the uneven cobblestone… walking barefoot so you'd be comfortable.

He was cute, really cute, and was acting like an idiot to keep you happy, so you ended up giving him your number outside your dorm room, feigning it was "just in case he needed help with bio." Though the quick kiss on the cheek made it clear it was more than that.

virgin!sukuna who texted you, to tell you he got home okay, you both ended-up texting about random shit until 3am & the messages were barely coherent anymore, just so the conversation could keep going.

virgin!sukuna who you eventually invited over to your dorm after a few weeks of becoming close friends. Just to watch some stupid movie, but one thing led to another & the cheeky flirting started, leaving you to give him a real true-blue kiss on the lips as you were seeing him out.

It wasn't his first kiss, but fuck. It was the first time one felt electrified like that.

virgin!sukuna had never felt this way about someone before. On the walk home to his dorm, he proudly wore the smear of your lipstick on his lips, even though it greatly contrasted with his whole edgy vibe.

virgin!sukuna who admittedly touched himself to you that night. Helplessly fucking his fist at the thought of your perfume, your lips wrapped around him instead, how perfect you'd feel on top of him instead.

He came quicker than usual that night, embarrassing himself & smoked until he calmed down.

virgin!sukuna took the chance the next morning and asked you to go on a date that night if possible, nothing serious, maybe a walk in the park or something—and felt like he was over the moon when you texted back, an ecstatic "Yes!"

virgin!sukuna wasn't the type of guy you'd expect to plan out a picnic under the stars. But he made one feel like heaven, from your head nestled comfortably against his ribs & pointing out the constellations to eating & laughing at his antics.

He managed to make the date feel like something you could have only dreamed of all throughout high school.

virgin!sukuna carried the picnic basket & walked you back to his dorm, offering to give you a room tour since he'd kicked his roommate out for the night. He let you snoop through the small space as he put the leftovers into his mini fridge.

You ended up crashing into his hard chest when he stood—his hands quickly finding your hips to help steady you as you giggled a quick sorry into his tee.

virgin!sukuna had to bite down a laugh at the sight of your smeared makeup all over his shirt as he pulled you back. The playful apology dying on your tongue & you profusely apologized, though that died off when he lazily tugged the fabric over his head and tossed it into the laundry basket.

virgin!sukuna quickly took note of your staring, specifically your staring at his chest tattoos & froze for a moment, causing you to pull your gaze away and apologize for making him uncomfortable.

Though, he quickly shut you up by pulling you into a swift kiss.

virgin!sukuna froze up again as you collapsed onto his mattress & dragged him on top of you—realizing that, "Oh fuck… It's really happening." Before blurting that he was still a virgin.

That admission caused your hands—that had already started tugging on his belt—to stop trying to undress him with a quiet. "Oh…"

virgin!sukuna watched your expression for a hint of regret or disgust. But he found none; instead, you pressed your face into his neck and whispered, "We don't have to," against his skin.

He grasped your hips once more & shook his head, assuring you that he wanted to... just that you'd be his first.

virgin!sukuna sank into you with a hand tightly grasping your hip & the other carefully cradling your head. He was vibrating with pleasure between the mix of your tight pussy sucking him in & the mewls you let out from feeling him.

He tucked his face against your throat as you took each thick inch, nipping softly at the sting of your nails sinking into his back.

virgin!sukuna pulled back to give you a proper kiss as he bottomed out for the first time, soft gasps escaping both of you at the sensation, his hips setting a steady pace.

You dragged one of your hands to come & cup his cheek, stroking softly as he fucked into with each delicious drag of his cock. It felt like heaven on earth, dragging him down as his tip began prodding greedily at your g-spot

virgin!sukuna who quickened into a maddening pace as you clenched down around him, going rough enough to make his headboard slam against his wall, in almost perfect sync of your whimpers.

He pressed quick kisses down the column of your throat once your walls began fluttering with each thrust.

virgin!sukuna came in sync with you, collapsing on top of you & his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. He buried his nose into your hair—sighing in content as you giggled against his pecs, jokingly pushing at him to loosen up.

He did, pulling back to make sure you were alright, & sighed in relief when you eagerly nodded your head.

virgin!sukuna wasn't a virgin anymore, but he'd found the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life fucking. The rest of his life fucking. Every moment of it was addictive as he replayed it in his mind, you were addictive.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : rewrote an old fic, keep a look out for more loser virgin jjk fics 🫶 & divider by @cursed-carmine

[papayafromtv]

conversations overheard through the batkid com lines pt 81 (masterpost here)

*connecting ping*

Jason: i spy, with my little eye, a little Robin that is slacking off,

Tim: the fuck...?

Damian: wait what- where are you?

Jason: ten o'clock, two buildings over.

Damian: *a slight pause* oh you stalker, what are you doing out of the alley?

Jason: catching you lacking, apparently.

Tim: the hell is going on over there?

Jason, amused: kid's hidin' behind an AC unit so he can ditch patrol and go on his phone.

Damian, pointedly: that's not what i'm doing, actually, so you can mind your own business,

Tim: you're not even supposed to have your civilian phone on you during patrol, it's a security risk. and where the fuck did B go?

Jason: oh he's in this call, he's just got us on mute.

Damian: he was questioning a couple gang members so i left. he'll notice soon, i'm sure, just like he'll soon notice his phone is missing.

Tim: his phone?

Jason: oh my god you stole Batman's phone- hold on, i'm coming over there, hold on.

Damian: well he didn't listen to his own rules regarding the subject, so i figured he deserved to suffer at least a little bit.

*wind whooshing* *boots against concrete*

Jason: *laughs* holy shit you have his actual phone-!

Tim, admiring: how did you get it unlocked?

Damian: i have a note in my own phone with all of your passwords written down from when i look over your shoulders and memorise them.

Tim: what-

Jason, amused: what are you doing with it?

Damian: well i was just going to hide it and make him experience supreme anxiety by thinking his personal possession is lost somewhere in the streets of Gotham, but he's been annoying me lately so i've kind of been doing... this.

*a beat*

Jason: *wheeze* NO WAY,

Tim: wait what- what's he done?!

Damian: i've been doing this for a while, actually. i just delete the evidence afterwards so he can't find out.

Jason: *weeping* you- you've done this before...?

Tim: WHAT'S HE DONE?

Jason, struggling to keep composure: he's- he's texting people as Bruce--he's text Clark,

Tim: what?! what's he said?

Jason: he- *wheeze*

Damian, slightly amused: do you want me to read it out?

Jason, weakly: please,

Damian: i, uh- *amused throat clear* i found a photo on the internet of a close-up on some man's inner thigh, showing a mole. it's not indecent in any way, it's just... slightly too intimate.

Jason: *wheezes again*

Damian, over him: -but it matches Father's body type, so i sent it to Superman. and then i said 'do you think i should get this checked or just see what happens? it's new, which i know might be concerning, but Batman's survived way worse than a mole, right?'

Jason, high-pitched, crying: -so weird,

Tim, incredulous: ...WHY????

Damian: i told you; because he can be annoying.

Jason: *still laughing*

Tim: yes but why THAT specifically?!

Damian: well that's the game, isn't it? it has to be odd, but not such a red flag that Kent instantly thinks Father's phone has been hacked. weird, but in an abstract way. it also needs to be enough of a none-issue that i can delete the interaction off this phone before i slip it back into Father's pocket and Kent won't think it's alarming enough to bring up again.

*brief pause*

Tim, in disbelief: dude, why have- why have you thought this out so much- how many times have you done this?!

Damian, sighing in consideration: well, when i first came to Gotham i had a few anger issues, i guess--inherited from biological donor number three, i'm sure,

Jason: -i resent that-

Damian: -and this was a good way to let off some steam without being grounded for attempting to kill anybody. when i first started i had to be careful, because Kent had a very specific view of Father. but over time i believe i've desensitised him somewhat.

Jason: do you just text Uncle Clark every time?!

Damian: no, i don't always attempt to embarrass Father. sometime i just use him as a medium to make other people suffer.

Tim, horrified: please tell me you've never texted me as Bruce.

Damian: no, i've never needed to, we have the fight pact. when you piss me off i just fight you.

Jason: healthy.

Damian: i got Dick pretty bad, though.

*connecting ping*

Dick: B, i need you.

Jason: speak of the devil.

Tim: oh he's been muted for the past like, twenty minutes. you need back up?

Dick: oh, no, i just needed to remember the name of one of my old middle school teachers and thought he'd know because it's really pissing me off that i can't remember it.

Jason: the fuck do you need to know that for?

Dick: brain-worm. anyway, what are we on over here?

*silence*

Damian: nothing important.

Tim: no fuck off- Damian's stolen Bruce's phone and he's texting people pretending to be him 'to make people suffer'.

Damian: Timothy i will fucking fight you.

Dick: -YOU HAVE HIS PHONE?! that's fucking hysterical, who's the target?

Jason: *pointed* currently, Uncle Clark. but he's not the only- hooly shit Clark's typing. he's typing- he's fucking typing.

Tim: oh my god,

*silence*

Jason: *abrupt cackling* NO FUCKING- *wheeze* NO WAY-,

Damian: oh my god- oh my god wait,

Tim: what the fuck did he say?!

Jason: *still cackling*

Dick: YOU CAN'T LEAVE US LIKE THIS!

Jason, struggling to breathe: GOD- Uncle Clark is the best on earth,

Tim: THE FUCK DID HE SAY?!

Jason: he- *wheeze* he's said- *cough* 'it doesn't seem abnormal, however if you'd feel more comfortable with a friend rather than a doctor then i could always x-ray the spot next time i see you to check for any growths underneath the skin.'

Tim: GOD, HE'S SO NICE?

Jason: *cackles*

Dick: what the fuck did you tell him!?!

Damian: all i did was send a photo of Father's new thigh mole.

Jason, crying: oh god- i love him,

Damian: sh, sh, i'm trying to concentrate,

Jason: what are you- WHAT ARE YOU RESPONDING? HE'S RESPONDING AGAIN.

Tim: Dami- *wheeze* Damian,

Damian: *snickering* ok how about that?

Dick: read it out read it out read it out.

Jason: uh- 'i think that would be helpful for the next JL meeting, but if you could-' *long, painful wheeze*

Tim: WHAT?

Jason: *not breathing*

Damian, calmly: 'but if you could do it discreetly, without me having to be pulled aside; i'd rather not cause speculations about why we would need to meet privately. you can just do it during the meeting.'

Jason: *whimpering*

Dick: oh, my, fuck.

Tim, struggling to keep his voice level: w-wait, so he's- so at the next Justice League meeting Clark is just gonna be there subtly trying to- *wheeze* trying to stare at Batman's inner thighs,

Jason, through choked weeps: -just on his own special little mission,

Tim: his own- *collapses into laughter*

Dick: Damian that's- that's fucking diabolical.

Tim: dude what does Bruce even do to you to deserve this stuff?!

Damian: yeah i should- i should probably clarify that i do love my father,

Dick: *instant cackle*

Damian: like i- *slight wheeze* i do- it might not seem like i like him,

Jason, crying: i can't- oh my god my side hurts,

Damian: i do love him, i just- sometimes he's a hypocrite, and he needs this.

Tim, matter-of-factly: God sent you to test this man, he knew- God knew that somebody needed to check Batman before he rose to complete power, so he cobbled together all of our essences and poured it into a new vessel to keep him firmly grounded on earth, and that vessel is you,

Jason, still laughing: that's true- when i was up there i had a private conference with the guy just like 'you know he's starting to get out of control, right? i was doing my best but the Joker got me, so what's the plan?' and God was like 'don't worry, Jason. i have plans. you have been chosen to bring my prophecy to fruition. like Mary with Jesus, you will bring fourth a solution.' and the solution was this.

Tim: *cackle*

Damian: not even close to the worst thing i've done to anybody with this phone, by the way. what i did to Dick was objectively way worse.

Dick, laughter stopping abruptly: -wait what?

Jason: yeah what did you do to Dick?

Dick: YOU'VE DONE THIS TO ME?!

Damian: ...you're joining from Bludhaven, right?

Dick: w-?!?! YEAH? WHY?

Damian: ok then that's far enough away for me to tell you.

Tim, amused: holy shit what'd you do?

Damian: he annoyed me. he promised to take me to the museum, and then he cancelled so he could go on a date.

Dick: you- YOU SAID YOU WERE FINE WITH THAT.

Damian: i lied. so i text you from Father's phone and told you that for the medical files in the Batcave it was imperative that you provide a recent and up-to-date record of your sexual history and amount of partners you've had overall. we argued about it for a while, but eventually i wore you down and you agreed to put one together.

Dick: WHAT.

Jason: *loud cackles, increasing in pitch*

Tim, in awe: holy fuck.

Dick, genuinely distressed: DAMIAN- I GAVE THAT RECORD TO HIM IN PERSON,

Jason: *abruptly deflates* Y-HES, OH MY GOD YES CHILD,

Dick: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK- THAT WASN'T HIM?!! OH MY GOD HE WAS SO CONFUSED WHEN I HANDED HIM IT--HE LOOKED AT ME SO WEIRDLY,

Jason: *losing his complete shit*

Dick: DAMIAN!

Damian, unapologetic: next time remember bros before hoes, what can i say.

Dick: THAT'S NOT AN EQUAL REACTION. WHAT THE FUCK.

Bruce: interrogation complete; Robin where have you disappeared off to?

Dick: I'M GOING TO END YOU DAMAIN-

Tim: *wheezes* you might have- you might have missed a few things, B.

Bruce: i wasn't even muted for that long- what's going on here?

Dick: I'M KILLING YOUR ONLY BIOLOGICAL SPAWN, THAT'S WHAT.

Tim, morbidly curious: i've actually never seen Dick this mad at Damian before, this is kinda impressive.

Jason: *struggling to breathe* no- no kid come here- *wheeze* i'm gonna- i'm gonna- come here, let daddy protect you, i'm so proud of you kiddo,

Damian: yeah i'm sticking with you for the next few days. keep Grayson away from me.

Jason: i love you more than anything, habibi, i got your back,

Bruce: what on earth-

Dick: FUCKING- JASON? HE NEEDS TO HAVE CONSEQUENCES.

Jason: not for this, this is amazing. i'm taking him, we're out. sucks to be you, Goldie.

*2 disconnecting pings*

Dick: *scream of frustration*

*disconnecting ping*

*silence*

Bruce: ...what did Robin do?

Tim: i am... not answering that.

*three seconds of silence*

Bruce: did Hood actually just refer to himself as Robin's 'daddy'?

*a beat*

Tim: um. yeah that's- that's new slang. it's from the- it's a league of assassins youth thing. don't question it.

Bruce: ...i am not touching that.

Tim: good choice.

*silence*

Bruce: shit, where's my phone?

Tim: -i have to go.

*disconnecting ping*

[merormerlin]

DC x DP Prompt — The Janitor

"Cheryl, I just locked Joker in the deep freezer, what do I do?" The words came out in a rush as he leaned against the hallway, nervously looking at the door as if the clown demon would somehow punch through six inches of metal and survive subzero temperatures.

"Are you fucking with me, Fenton? You know I'm in the middle of a shitshow right now."

He breathed out a little hysterically. "No, I'm not fucking with you. There's a bunch of Joker goons in the base on 7th street. I lured them into the deep freezer—"

"The one without exits?"

"Yeah, uh-huh, the one with no exits. And then I barricaded the door."

There was an audible muffle of words and a few shouts and what sounded like gunshots. Danny was worried his closest coworker got shot until she came back on the line, out of breath.

"Let me get this straight— your first thought when the Joker invaded our headquarters was to lock him in a freezer?"

"No, I had time to think about it." Danny answered absently as he wandered down to the utility room after he turned on the fans to full blast. He wasn't the designated handyman, but a Fenton with a screwdriver could do anything, really.

Just because he was the janitor didn't mean he somehow lost the ability to fix a washer, oil a door, or wire a ghost electric chair. (Yes, that was a real thing, and yes, he did destroy it when he moved out of Amity Park.)

Speaking of moving, he supposes it's important on A. why he was in a Red Hood base (and more broadly, Gotham), B. Why he was a janitor in a Red Hood base, C. why he knew a lieutenant of Red Hood and D. why he had just committed what most would call felony murder.

(Danny would call it self defense, but potato pahtato when you're working for a gang.)

It all came down to one thing. He was good at cleaning. How, Danny "The Slob" Fenton, do such a thing when his room was sometimes more of a bio risk than the literal lab?

It's that Jazz was constantly stressed with school and taking care of him, so a lot of chores often fell to him.

Which meant cleaning up the lab.

Sure, he was no where near happy about this arrangement, but it wasn't like he could tell his sister "Hey! Stop giving me non-contaminated food and clean, woman!"

He was a lazy, deeply sarcastic, a borderline delinquent and a vigilante, but he drew the line at misogyny And, you know, his hotdogs trying to murk him in his stomach.

Ergo, Danny the bitter cleaner of all things radioactive and probably illegal.

The thing with the Fenton lab? There was always something staining the floor. Whether it be blood, ectoplasm, oil, lubrication for bolts, coffee, or an ungodly mix of all of it.

He had to get creative and fast.

Ectoplasm is a bit corrosive and stains like you wouldn't believe, even on metal floor. So he learned to put a bit of his own ectoplasm and mini ice particles so it would actually be able to be scrubbed out of the floor.

Coffee? Oil? Yeah. Cleaning supplies were mixed together like a potion master, toeing the line between dangerous and genius. He was always careful enough not to make chlorine gas or chloroform.

It became an uncanny skill, along with other things. He knew how to get spots out of clothing, how to make homemade detergent and how to get any stain or blemish out of almost any material.

So, when he moved to Gotham to complete his bachelors in chemical engineering at G.C.U., he knew he had to get a job somewhere.

And there was a lot of benefits for custodial staff in his position. Good hours, mostly at night or afternoons when he'd be free. And he knew a lot about cleaning, so why not?

...He hadn't really planned to be scouted as a crime cleaner, though.

Especially for a gang.

But hey! They even gave dental. Red Hood didn't even seem all that bad, drug peddling and murder aside. (Unsurprisingly, he could put a lot of things aside. His parents and well, Phantom, etc.)

If he kept his mouth shut, head down and hands working, he could get a good wage and even better benefits.

Danny, much to his dismay and minor shock, became known as 'the guy who can get stains out of literally everything.' Goons would literally stop and watch him like he was preforming black magic on a crime scenes walls. Even more surprisingly, he got clients and friends from this arrangement.

(Ignoring that one time of the jackets he was randomly given looks like Red Hood's.

No pressure. Just a crime lord who (allegedly) put heads into a duffel bag and mailed it to another crime boss.

He does it anyway, because he has a reputation (and monetary gain) to keep.)

So! Back to the present.

"What the fuck. What the fuck!" Cheryl hissed, whether at him or what he assumed was a gunfight in the background, "Jesus effin' Christ Danny, get out of there."

The halfa swung open the maintenance/janitorial supply room, trying to be nonchalant as his brain spirals and calculates. "I don't think Jesus can fuck Christ. They seem almost identical, y'know?"

Hydrogen sulfide would be the quickest killer, but chloroform could also do it if they didn't have enough acids and sulfur cleaning products.

Decisions, decisions.

Eh. Fuck it.

Danny grabbed some plywood, a box full of tools, his handy dandy cleaning supplies and a big plastic bucket. He would call his shaky hands adrenaline instead of being absolutely terrified that the most notorious mass-murderer in America was a few rooms down.

"Danny, I'm not fuckin' joking. You need to get the hell out of there. That's an order, you brilliant, stupid piece of shit."

He began trotting back to the deep freezer, inhaling through his teeth and scrubbing his face. "Kinky," he said, with levity he sure as hell didn't feel, "Hey, so, I'm gonna have to call you back. Tell me once you get out of your Nerf gun battle."

"Dann—!"

Danny snapped on a respirator, tucked his phone away, and quickly dumped a mixture of chemicals he knew would kill, well, a lot of things.

He'd heard the screaming and gunshots even through the thickest 1950s subzero room known to man. Kind of hard to muffle even that.

But alas. He went partially intangible, hauling his bucket of unicorn love and sparkles, floating up towards the air ducts. With no pizzaz, he dumped the entire thing in the vent system for the room.

The screams immediately rose in volume, and so did the ping of gunshots. Not wasting the time to poke his intangible head in and see how they were doing, he reappeared back in the hallway.

To be a safeguard even for an empty base, he quickly hammered in some plywood to any vents, duct taping the edges.

And for the coup de grâce, he sealed the door with his ectoplasm ice, cranked up the fan and turned the temperature to the lowest it could reasonably go.

"Have fun in there kiddos," he rapped the door, and then got the fuck out of the base. So really, he was following Cheryl's order. So it wasn't insubordination, no siree. Just insurance.

— — —

Danny found himself grabbing a cup of coffee. It wouldn't help his nerves, absolutely not, but at least it gave him something to do with his hands as he called up Cheryl.

"Danny!" She immediately snapped, and he winced.

"Hi, Cheryl," He demurred, hoping to project the most charming air that she could definitely see through. "How're you doing?"

"Don't change the subject, pretty boy."

He held his tongue at a sarcastic comment to that. "Mmmm yeah, so. About that. Would you mind like, not telling the Big Guy about what I did? Keep it like, anonymous act of charity?"

"Why." The word was sharp, almost unquestioning. Danny kept from squeezing his plastic ice coffee cup so hard that it would explode.

Okay. Okay. He had to do this. "I'm a Meta." He explained. "I really— Like, I left something definitely a Meta could do to keep the Joker in the deep freezer room." He really didn't want to become some super soldier or enforcer. He would quite literally rather kill someone before he did that.

It wasn't like there wasn't Metas in Gotham or, hell, some gangs. But he wasn't just Danny the Throw Him At Any Problem Because He Has Powers guy, and he never wanted to be. He just wanted to get his degree, get paid, and get out.

"Too late. I'd already told him that you'd locked Joker in there."

Danny smacked his head against the cafe table, wishing he inhaled more of the chemical weapon in the plastic Home Depot bucket.

"Cheryl," He said, with thinly veiled horror and dread.

Her voice audibly softened. "Danny. It's fine. You know he wouldn't throw you off the Harbor or anything. Hell, he's probably going to be grateful, however uncharacteristic. Everyone 's gonna be. It's the Joker."

Danny gave a truly pathetic groan as the now murderer of the Joker, and wondered if being fed to the fishes was truly a worse fate.

— — —

Jason was smoking on one of the balcony of his many safe houses, holding a picture of the man in front of him.

It'd been a long night and a long morning. Once he had gotten the intel that the Joker was locked in a deep freezer, in one of his goddamn bases, you bet your lucky fucking stars he had gotten there faster than Bruce had gotten to him.

It had taken hours to get into the room from whatever the hell was coated over the door, and dear fuck was it worth the effort.

The Joker was dead. So were many of his closest lieutenants and underlings. Some had died from GSWs, other from chemical burns or inhalation, and the Joker? The best of all.

He'd died slowly and painfully from hypothermia and the chemicals.

It had been a mixture of vindictive, vengeful glee and deep exhaustion as he carefully monitored the cremation process of all of the bodies.

It was over. It was fucking over. His syndicate would be in pieces that Jason would euphorically grind his heel into.

Now all that remained of the infamous, homicidal Joker was a plastic bag of grey ashes.

Jason wasn't sure what he was going to do with it now. Maybe he could flush it down his toilet. It'd clog, but he wouldn't give two shits.

Maybe he could even sent it to Bruce. The thought brought a huff from his lips as he blew out the smoke from his cig, eyes examining the picture from the file.

Cheryl had referred to this Danny as 'pretty boy' on many occasions, and Jason was inclined to agree. A mischievous, almost boyish face of a 22-year-old. The famed Red Hood Janitor, jack-of-trades.

The killer of the most prominent killer of all time.

He couldn't summon as much jealousy of it should have been me, twisting the knife in his gut rather than the feeling of relief. Red Hood had struggled even getting close, whether it was his obscene amount of gang members or it was fucking Batman or one of his little soldiers preventing him from putting a bullet in his head.

No, it wasn't as much anger but interest that he twisted around in is mind, thumb hovering over the face of Danny Fenton.

He'd like to meet this man. Jason was sure that it would be a conversation he wouldn't want to miss.

Red Hood, covered in blood and flicking a cigarette butt off his balcony, smirked and picked up his burner phone.

[quelmdn]

Impressionable mind 🥄🐇 (2020)

[hailmarysuggest]

I just think that Rocky is the most feral possessive bitch to ever exist when it comes to Grace. Sorry, if you don’t fix my space horse I’m NOT giving you any of the bacteria we almost died to get- oh hello mate Adrian, yes yes, Rocky DOES think this is perfectly rational, why do you ask? No, Rocky ran out of his Eridian Lexapro like four years ago this is now a hostage negotiation-