#“Don't go to my Cave unless you know the name”

[court-jobi]

How'd You Know (I Needed This)

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's (sleepy) characters/work))

Pairing: Aizawa x reader (American!Pro Hero fem!reader, set before the events of Season 1)

Words: 4.9K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Aizawa has feelings and doesn't know what to do with them, alcohol mentions, slow burn, he fell first she fell harder, the feeling is mutual TM

Summary:

Shouta Aizawa surrenders his capture weapon for the night in favor of humoring Hizashi, and is rewarded for his follow-through at his show. He wants to know you, more than he has from teaching the brats alongside you for the last few months. Wants to know the smile that reaches your eyes more intimately.

He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you -out from all their eyes inside- to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

A/N: I've been WAITING for this one, turn it up!!! Aizawa my beloved, I've wanted to write you for so, so long and can only hope I can do you justice. The man just has such a gentle side and I just wanted to give him something nice and self-indulgent~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Damn it, why was he thinking like this? He’s in public for goodness’ sakes, with only two sips of drink under his belt. Not two drinks- two sips of a drink.  So if that’s the case of his sobriety, why was he off in his own little headspace as if he were drunk?  

‘Put Your Hands Up Radio’ found its home recording studio attached to this lounge: a place Shouta Aizawa never frequented unless expressly invited- or when Eraserhead was needed to scout out trouble. Far too noisy, too chatty, and filled with too many grown adults losing their sensibilities for his liking. 

Through one round of begging or another, he’d been roped into joining some of the staff of UA to an evening out, in support of Present Mic. Naturally, Aizawa would go- as his presence would all but guarantee everyone else’s. Despite begrudging the plans that pushed himself out of his preferred rest mode, he kept true to his word for Hizashi’s sake.

Promise kept, and therefore, appears to have been rewarded. 

Once the show wrapped for the night, his best friend was over the moon at how things were turning into a party that Friday night. After a day of shrill, whinging teenagers he’d wrangled all week, this level of volume was honestly the last thing he needed. Yamada’s voice doubled the decibel of the entire room- and that’s without his quirk activated. He always managed to annoy Aizawa when he started fangirling about one duet matchup or another.

But truthfully? Every sound this tired hero registered around him fell to white noise while he looked at you…

Sweet Little Miss, you are; gracing the lounge with your presence. You’re a vision tonight. Insist with your lilting dip to your words they all call you by your first name, outside of school grounds and against what’s considered custom. No hero titles either, unless an emergency called for formalities- then you’d cave.

These Americans are too casual. Even down to these outfits. What’s this–  black turtleneck, necklace she won’t leave alone- moving it around her thumb like that, short skirt.. and those damn thigh highs and tights. How is it she’s driving that moped of hers, wearing something like this…

Everything on your person, down to the way you held yourself in perfect confidence and ease adorned you like a perfectly-styled pro hero. It couldn't be a more stark contrast to his tried and true wardrobe. Even this after-hours look sat perfectly around each bend and curve of you, as you listened to the group. 

You’re smiling, too. It’s subtle, but it reaches your eyes, which makes it all the more authentic.

A smile he shouldn’t want to keep all to himself. Curves he really should have no business noticing. Features that he’s actually surprised he’s labeling as ‘attractive’ in his mind because the last time he ever felt an ounce of attraction to anyone in that way, he’d barely been able to grow facial hair. 

Desire for a safe place to land his dizzying mind is driving his tired sights to look to you for relief again and again in the conversation– without you even saying a single word. 

The barely-touched drink in his hand is only a prop; something to make him blend into the scene and not something he’s actually tasting for pleasure… meaning, these are his thoughts. Nearly completely sober. Should be illegal. Just illegal-

"Yo Sho, you still with us, sleepyhead?" 

Yamada pulled him out of his thoughts. Disguising any flare of being put on the spot, Aizawa  flitted his absent gaze back to his blond friend–

"Be nice. He’s had a rough day and is a good enough sport by being here,” you chirped up catching Yamada’s pull for Aizawa to part from the fringes of your little gathering.

Now toward you? He’ll soften his edge. After all, with you sticking up for him with blind loyalty, he nearly felt guilty for spacing out and causing you to speak up in the first place.

“- yknow, I'm inclined to take a nap myself," you leaned forward to grab a few more calamari bites to tend to your seemingly insatiable appetite. Aizawa felt warm at the sweetness and straightened up at Yamada’s prodding.

From then on, he made sure to look in your direction more often when you spoke to help him pay attention. He still didn't say much, never did. But he liked the company well enough.

These nights were truly few and far between. Life as an in-demand hero left him jumping from role to role, daytime and midnight obligations. The routine split his waking hours and stretched them paper thin.  Now more than ever,  he typically shirked as much off time as he was offered. And yet, he had to remember to prioritize levity and breaks– and in this case, indulge his treasured friend’s interests and ‘take one for the team’. Good for morale, he reasoned, just this once. 

The occasion was also a way for you to integrate with the group in an informal setting– great for the transplant from the States. You’ve taken amicably to the group of alumni-turned-faculty at UA, though much still remained a mystery about you, presently being peeled back bit by bit through stories and slips of the tongue. There was only so much a dossier could truly reveal about a person- even one curated by S.W.O.R.D. to volunteer aid their Japanese counterparts in their hero work.

It couldn’t tell what kind of teacher you’d turned out to be. Even with no experience working with students, you tread the line between instilling team-centered outlooks and pushing their quirk’s limitations to their max benefit. A crafty, inventive counterpart to complement his blunt teaching style: better together, and even the principal agreed.

It couldn’t point out where your true ambitions lie or where your drive came from. There remained much to be explained as far as your hero status here in Japan– a red-tape nightmare Aizawa was still intrigued to learn about. So far, you’d shared some limitations about ��immigration statuses are being vetted with a fine toothed comb, so they’re still trekking through the paperwork”, so your wings are essentially clipped down to a student’s provisional license. This doesn’t please you too much, but you’re driven as much as his finest students with the aire of a professional he’d love to see in full action.

It couldn’t explain the stillness you could dip into, that he only caught once or twice when you believe yourself alone. There’s a past was weighing your shoulders level and compliant in the eyes of the law… but an urge to push back and ‘play this out’  brought hypotheticals to your lips whenever you chatted about what hero life is like for him, and added a sparkle to the eye that he had yet to fully source.

It couldn’t give away the gentleness you hold behind a carefully guarded smile– even in this harsh hero world. Maybe it was that indomitable spirit that those foolhardy patriots overseas carried… or rather, maybe it was the way you fought against such a loud persona. So far, Aizawa has taken only a few notes, but each little mental post-it was cluttering up his headspace. You held a quiet love of tea, a comical passion for the oxford comma, and a mind to care for the little things in life– like the lizards you rescue in an inverted cup to take outside where they belong . 

Surely life must have treated you hard to elicit such softness. Something tenderized you to achieve the peace you carry around or else you’re wearing a damn good mask. No, he determines you had to have made a choice to continue on the path that’s brought you to the present– even to this table where you’re taking your fill of maki rolls while casting little caring glances his way. 

All smiles and calm surety, as he mills through his thoughts that are damn near obsessed with you.

An employee file could never record ‘heart’, anymore than it could expose anything you didn’t want to reveal.

The night progresses while Aizawa stews on these thoughts, and plenty of others… for the ones that drift to his co-teacher offer him more mental stimulation than that he finds in the club’s lights and music.

Yamada’s night of filling his social battery was made nearly perfect by the karaoke that just started. Several of the other teachers got preoccupied in round after round of song, so it left Aizawa with a moment's peace. 

Well, peace he was going to enjoy by laying back on the couch for a little shuteye–  when his gut jumped at the feeling of a hand trailing up his forearm to the elbow with a polite, companionable touch. 

Facing its owner, Aizawa caught your little smirk and nod towards the balcony. You didn't pull hard, yet he followed like a magnet out to the patio. 

From there, rather than stay by the door to listen in on their friends ‘releasing their inhibitions and feeling the rain on their skin’,  you took him to the right, where a matching lounge set positioned itself in a blind spot between the rooftop bar and the fire escape. 

"Thought you looked like you could benefit from some soundproofing~" you brushed your hair back over one shoulder to follow the breeze’s direction, and left an open spot next to you by the railing. 

Nightlife and neon didn’t hold magic for Eraserhead given as many nights as he’s spent perched on precarious heights, but through a newcomer’s eyes, he could see the appeal. This part of the city glowed at night from dusk to dawn, and you clearly loved looking out over it; Aizawa certainly didn't mind this view either. 

Your perception skills are spot on, and incredibly thoughtful as you’ve suggested some fresh air- for his sake. If he wasn’t drawn to you any of the other times he’s paid attention to the spastic moths a more romantic person might call ‘butterflies’ before…  this cements each and every one as valid. 

He likes you. He really likes you. 

Time passed with appreciative quiet until you spoke again, 

"The only thing is, you can't really see stars in the city... there’s too much light."

"The beaches have a nice view," Aizawa replied after some thought.

"Oh yeah?"

"Enough to stargaze properly,” he offered without much sentimentality. Right by the pier was the best spot he and his former classmates would go on the weekends, before their hero work took off.

"I'll have to remember to take a drive there. Y'know, sometime when I'm not in two-and-a-half-inch heels." you chuckled as you shuffled back to the rattan settee, sitting for a bit to stretch out your legs. "I don't know how Nemuri does it."

"Feet hurt already?" Aizawa snuck his hands from his pockets and came to the seat across from yours. “Night’s young.”

"Getting there,"  your laugh greeted him over, "But you know what they say, dress to impress and all that. Yamada really pitched some hype for this afterparty, so~"

Fashion was hardly something that ever swayed Aizawa’s decision-making. Utilitarian was the way to go for his wardrobe- then, as now. 

"If aesthetics are all that determine these pros’ attention, that’s horribly vain." 

You bristled in good humor, 

"He didn't mean it like that– I just meant, he said to look nice for fun instead of for work. Call it ‘girl code’ if you want. We know that means to– just– /doll up a bit/!"

Aizawa held back a snicker at how you still ran into difficulties finding the most apt Japanese equivalents in your (pretty decently executed) second language. English slang you reverted to in moments like these fell from your mouth with an odd drawl. Still couldn’t place the regional accent you carried, but it charmed Aizawa all the same. 

“//Doll up//?” he mimicked. 

"//I like dolling up//!"

Aizawa reached and pulled his glass to his lips, meant to look aloof but not hiding his interest altogether well. 

"You don’t need to put on airs to get people to notice you…" 

"Right, because the accent gives me away."

"No, it’s your-”

Finally, a coward’s streak flared deep in his belly to shut him up. A rare hesitation. Damn this. What the hell’s happening to me–

 “–nevermind."

"My what?" you’re fully  interested, knowing a secret when it's presented.

"Nothing important."

Thankfully you not-so-subtlety dropped it with a hummed ‘ok’, but kept a watchful eye for him in your peripherals. 

The pro hero mused. Better for him to be honest, right? 

Just choose your words carefully. You’ll have to look her in the eye after this, you know. 

Aizawa widened his seated stance so his knee barely breached your space. 

Your sights lifted to him while he put his best poker face on. It’s not really any different than what he’d give to a perfect stranger– the only difference here is he has to force it.

Shit shit shit you're in deep, Shouta.

"You're plenty noticeable as you are. Anyone who meets you can see that," Aizawa shared in his usual soft-spoken tone. "Give ‘em ten minutes, and you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s a whole impression, not just the outer package. Doesn't matter if you're in a dress that costs a month’s paycheck or a black button down. You're welcoming, sincere..." 

He’s realizing he might be trailing off, but finding you listening with full attention led him on; no liquid courage required. 

"You're stunning from the inside out. Enough to get others to notice."

Aizawa heard your appreciation before he saw it, a hum preceding the a genteel smile. With the win of his walls coming down, he had to give an honest smirk back. It was only fair; you’d earned it just by being you. By your flattered look, you were touched– but your brain was still working beneath the surface, and soon showed by a fleeting expression that spit from him.

Then, you caught your bottom lip for a second, before daring to look in Aizawa’s eyes again. It’s a sneaky look– like he’d snuck a peek at a card he’d meant to hide.

"...You remember what I wore on my first day at UA."

It was half question, half amusement. So dear, but oh-so pointed.

Aizawa froze.

"Black button down. You noticed me, then?" you countered more, "And here I thought you didn't care about appearances~" 

"In professional circles, no. Personal… that's a different thing, entirely." 

He kept your  sights locked onto his, not unlike how he used his quirk in a challenge– only far softer and he could risk the occasional blink.

Even when you took his glass from his hand and placed it away on the table alongside yours, he still looked fondly after you, in fact tilting his head to the other side, studying the way one piece of your hair was caught by your neck. What he’d give to be familiar with you enough to ever-so-carefully brush it back, letting his touch send a wave of shivers across your skin and maybe even make you hum at the gesture. But he couldn’t trust himself to do it now, settling on stretching his arm around the back of the couch. Just an open move, letting you join him on the couch as close as you’d like.

Was he really doing this? He never has before, but this felt so natural. 

You smiled still– and as you sit, you’re leaning into it.  Well then. 

“What was I wearing, Aizawa?”

With free fingers, he risked some little brushes on your near shoulder, bringing a happy little eyebrow lift from you. He just took in your features in close quarters, settled in it, as he remembered that day:

Black button down, grey skirt. Biker boots -practical choice- and these damn tights.

Aizawa’s dazed in the head, but he knows he's listed it off aloud based on how your sights widen, impressed. 

"Hmmm, tights do it for ya?” you smiled, “I'm surprised you haven't jumped the darling Ms. Nemuri then."

"I know way too much about Kayama to ever consider her that way,”  Aizawa’s tempered hand twirled a finger along a blown-away section of hair, just absently enough. “You however, tease just enough." 

"Do I tease you?” you offer with a little depth, “I don't mean to."

It’s here he’s worry he’s stepping over a line- if it weren’t for the downright delicious look in your eye. You say it like you’re sorry for acting unprofessionally– but you’re urging him on, hardly apologetic for your sweet posturing.

"You may not mean it, but it's not unnoticed," 

He took second to swallow, and steps fully over it. 

"or unwelcome."

You’re pleased with this, but deflect with your trademarked humor- 

"Well now that’s saying something. You've seen me in my pjs, too- far from glamorous.  That didn't break the allure for you?"

Aizawa had to huff though his nose at that memory.

"I caught you at arguably your most real self, that first night you patched me up," His outstretched arm rubbed full circles onto your shoulder now, with the lightest touch. 

“Still have no clue why you chose me over Recovery Girl. For the harshest grader in school, that was a pretty dumb move.”

“You were closer than going to campus. It was the practical choice.”

“You didn't even know if I knew first aid.” 

“You do,” Aizawa smirked. “You're too nurturing to not have a knack for it.”

Your legs crossed over, deflecting both your words and refreshing your body movement. In doing so, you slid even closer- a move not lost on Aizawa. 

“Well, I'm still not happy about it. You needed more attending than I was able to pull off. Whatever you get into those nights,” you flitted a look to the underside of his arm that lays outstretched –where you know he sports a scar now- “It… looked like it hurt, ‘Zawa.”

Warm. Warm and cared form. Felt it then, feel it now. That's the life in his chest he gets when he’s around you. 

"Can't change the past, and I certainly wouldn't have changed that. Wouldn’t pass up seeing that sight of you for the world."

This connection, this dance, it all feels that it must be older than what it is, more rooted in a shared history than a short few months. 

Aizawa wants to ‘get’ you. Know the thoughts behind your eyes. Get you talking, even if it means he needs to give up his silent nights and muted text alerts so he can learn you.  He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you, out from other’s eyes, to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

His eyes narrowed playfully, "Are you embarrassed right now?"

Out of this entire teasing exchange, that note seemed to surprise you and turned you shy.  Short of clapping a hand onto your cheek, you just darted your gaze away- can you be cuter if you tried?

“h-Yeah, a little!" –though you tried to snark your way out of it, "you were hurt before, and blubbery- but now that we’re y'know– awake, and talking... Pretty faces make me nervous."

Nervous? Pretty? Aizawa doesn’t like the sound of either of those.

Aizawa raised a brow and gave a look, a touch more serious.

"Hey," He tapped your chin still with his free hand, "if you want me to lay off, you say the word."

Blindly, you hold his hand from retreating away– "No. You're good, I promise."

He’s drowning in you leaning into the cool touch offered to you–

“ Heh, I–uh… I’m pretty sure ‘friends’ don’t talk about each other like this, though.”

He couldn't be a coward now– not with you melting on the spot and giving him an insane amount of hope.

“Maybe not,” Aizawa reasoned gently, “-not if they’re content to stay that way.” 

–then all of a sudden his heart soared at her next words:

"Well… I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like you, like this.” With your insistence for touch, you cupped his wrist in your own chill-tipped hand.

Hell yeah. 

Aizawa huffs another win in his foolish heart, but then watches as you keep talking–  you don’t break from your softness, but look reflective off to an absent point on his chest.

“It’s funny, y'know? Most jobs, you’d be lucky to find someone you would actually wanna talk to outside of board meetings and quarterly reports… but here in our line of work, you count on each other to save your lives.”

“That’s right.” Aizawa breathes.

“I uh.. never thought I’d be workin’ with kids- trying to keep them alive too. Teach them how to do the same. But I wouldn’t feel nearly as confident to do it, rise to the challenge, if it weren’t for you, ‘Zawa. You’re just as special. Inside and out.”

And when you look to his eyes again, fully awake and still sober, he swears he’ll say yes to any night Hizashi invites him to if it means he can have you this close. Things with you just feel lived-in. Companionable. He’s drawn to you in a way unlike others before you, because he didn’t believe he’s had the right, desire, or time to even entertain it. 

But everything’s different now. It just works, in his mind. He wants to spend his respites, his missions, everything- with you at his side, having his back. For however long you’d let him.

Touching your cheek, cursing the helmet you’d have to wear on the way home that would hide this angelic face from him once again– Aizawa curls towards you, barely tipping his head which screams ‘kiss her you ass’. You notice, and follow his lead almost halfway. 

“Yeah, I like you like this…” you sighed lightly, “--and I’d like us like this, too.” 

"Hm. Good."

...the door to the patio swinging open from around the corner startles you both. Present Mic doesn’t know his strength as he projects for the block to hear, swaggering about in his search.

You looked flustered sitting back up, but Aizawa was characteristically unphased at the sight of Hizashi finally rounding with a singsong cry of his name. 

Dammit.

"Hey kids, been looking for YOU, Miss America! There's some stateside artists on the karaoke lineup with your name on iiiiit- c’mon! I hyped you already to Nemuri– she didn't believe me that you sang with me for my English midterms!!"

"What?!” you blanched, “ Who said I was doing that?"

"I did!!” Yamada thumbed at his own brilliance, “ C’mon I'll do the first one with you!"

"First one– Dude, I don't need to be touting my Southern-ass self to a bunch of pros before I even make a name for myself here."

"This is HOW you'll do it! Come n’ wow them, break the ice- you’ll do amazing!" Yamada came to your side of the settee, tugging you up to your feet with little fight. "Tch, Sho, you're rubbing off on her, aren't you? Turning our sweet teach into a wallflower as we speak, huh?"

"She was doing me a favor- has an eye out for me when I needed an escape, unlike you." Aizawa droned, to your amusement.

"Yeah yeah fair enough. Now pleeeeeease, would you come inside?  It would be so much fun!"

From the way you’re freshening your jacket collar, you’re warmed from the neck up, caught between what just almost happened and the current situation Yamada is putting you in.

You look to Aizawa just like you did inside– a  glance, but it lingers longer than before. Like you are waiting to see what he thinks. If he’ll stay or go, should you leave. 

But Aizawa isn’t so selfish like before. He doesn’t feel it necessary to keep you to himself, because he sees your affection so clearly in your eyes now. He hosts butterflies in his stomach, yes, but they aren’t frantic and flitting about wondering what you may or may not think of him- chronically tired and a contrast to the breath of fresh air you are. You see him as a companion, too. Someone he might just get the chance to study, and learn, and adore in return.

No, he knows you like him as he is. Knows you’ll choose to meet him where he stands. He can share you, and will simply watch on as you stun him even more...

The Pro-Hero is desperate for some eyedrops in all this wind outside, but he would grin and bear it if you choose to deny Yamada’s pull on you. So instead, he merely leans forward to perch on his knees, with a hand on the lip of both your drinks. What Aizawa says in his non-answer left it open to what you wanted to do.  Stay or go, he’d follow suit.

Returning to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fellow teacher, you breathily gave in with your ‘ok’. 

"YEAAAAAUHHHH!"

"Damn peer pressure."

"You said yes," Aizawa smirked.

"Oh if she’s going, you're coming in too!" Hizashi was already whisking you away, and Aizawa rose on his own, following your knowing smile over your shoulder and matching it. 

With many forced karaoke and radio show nights, it’s Aizawa who braves the crowd and comes up behind you at one of Present Mic’s shows,  stepping in from the balcony where you wait by its door. He’s fresh off of work, sporting a new scar across his cheek courtesy of his day job, this time.. but you greet him with that familiar scrunch of the nose that he still finds adorable.

It’s rare he leaves campus nowadays, because he feels the stakes are higher than ever for him to remain vigilant. His students are his life, and as proud of them as he is, they are a constant effort of his mind and strength. Rest doesn’t come easy, and his rewards for a job (passably) done aren’t found in many places. 

One constant he has found helps, has been you. 

You, still alluring as ever, but who makes sure he doesn’t fixate on giving and giving of himself until he breaks– but to take his rests, reset, and even take a little jaunt over to these radio shows when he has staff coverage back at the dorms. Gives you two some time to get nostalgic, sentimental– or as close as he can get to those mushy spots in his heart about the club where he wrestled out his feelings for you for the first time.

He smooths a hand across your lower back now, when he joins you. He’s held onto your hands when they're cold, giving you whatever warmth he has. He knows each and every gap on your resume, partnered with you out on the streets, tag-teams in his classroom with this plucky 1-A Class he now leads, and is content to let you fill his thoughts when he wants to rest his eyes.

He doesn’t fight his affections now. Still would rather not simper in public too much because he’s quite averse to being the center of tabloids’ attentions, but stands by you all the same. 

"I'm surprised to not see you up there,” Aizawa greets, cool as ever. 

You lean on a hip, closer to him. 

"He's got his sets lined up today, didn't ask me-” You speak a little louder over the crowd, “I swear, your cockatoo still acts like I'm some gift from the heavens, just ‘cuz I can sing!"

"It's earned. You deserve every bit of it, and not just from Hizashi."

You turned over to him shyly, drawing his attention further– your tendencies to melt under his words encourages Aizawa to compliment you directly. Often. Whatever it is about his voice that you say you’re obsessed with, he still doesn’t understand– but he uses it to full advantage as he robs your drink from your hand,

"I happen to think you have a gorgeous voice," Aizawa speaks low to your ear. “You should sing at home more often.”

“Please. As if the kids would ever let me live it down.”

You refer -of course- to the twenty shared students between you, taking them all in stride since you’ve sufficiently bonded through fire alongside them. 

“That’s teaching for ya. Gotta push yourself beyond, plus ultra and all that.”

You chortle back in your throat, risking a kiss on his etched cheek to counter his snide remark, 

“You’re off the clock, ‘Zawa. No more hero talk, huh?” 

Aizawa cocks a brow, stealing a sip, “Sorry we can’t all turn it off like you, dear.”

The comment has you biting the inside of your mouth at the tease, and allows him a quick moment to press the glass’ condensation against his eye. 

“Want some air, hon?” you try again, softer than this atmosphere should allow.

Looking back at you -your hold on his elbow ready to guide him outside just like the first night- and Aizawa doesn’t need any more sips of the whiskey he holds.  

The retreat to ‘your couch’ is one he looks forward to any chance he gets. Bass boosted from the speakers inside becomes background noise that dulls his senses, doubled by the way you cozy up under his arm watching the skyline shift in light and color in comfortable silence. You trade roles with him: taking watch while he shuts his eyes for some restorative hydration. 

But before he gets too terribly relaxed by your weight settling his aching muscles to stillness, he registers a warm press to his mouth that he’s quick to chase after. That’s a satisfying thought, too: he doesn't have to imagine what it'd be like to kiss you anymore. 

[hellsquills]

Dragon!Stan be upon ye

A short thing for @babyblankyerror 's Dragon!Stan AU. Please go check their art because it's infesting my brain /pos

⪻ ⪻ ⨳ ⪼ ⪼

"Hello?"

Ford's voice echoes through the cavern. He hears some small steps in return that turn louder and heavier as they approach, until he sees the familiar –and gigantic– face of his dragon friend. Despite the tightness in his heart, his face relaxes a little as he greets him.

"Good night, my friend. Sorry for disturbing your dreams."

It's way later than he usually visits the creature. These past weeks, Stanford left his house around 5pm and arrived at the cave at 6, trying his best to be punctual, even though time probably means nothing to this dragon. Having this little ritual amongst his otherwise chaotic schedule helps him. Today is already dark out, not pitch-black, but enough to make the path slightly dangerous.

The beast approaches slowly, looking somewhat sleepy, and lowers its head so Stanford can pet it. It is then, as they are eye-to-eye, that the dragon stops and tilts its head.

"What? What is it?"

The creature moves its head forward, brushing its snout against the man's cheek. Ford is taken aback, shocked by the delicate and understanding move.

"This? Those are just tears, don't worry about it."

The dragon huffs like an exasperated child, as if implying that it doesn't believe a word he's saying. Stanford sighs.

"I guess I can't fool you, huh?" Another huff. "I suppose that you're even smarter than I assumed. Which, rest assured, was already a lot."

The beast turns around and lies down in the middle of the cave, much closer to the entrance than it previously was before Ford arrived. The man walks to it, accepting its silent invitation. He lies down next to its chest, which is soft and warm with all the fur covering it. He nestles against it, making a spot for himself, just like many other times before.

"I... haven't had the best of days, I'm afraid."

The dragon's head is now resting on the floor beside him, its right eye looking straight through him. As uncomfortable as he is around people staring at him, this barely bothers him. The dragon's eyes are kind, attentive, so different from all the others he's used to have on him. Something in those colors fills him with a sense of safety that helps him breathe easier. It also helps with pulling out the words from his throat.

"I had... an argument with my Muse. Which wasn't his fault, really! It was all mine. I didn't... expect him to be this angry, though." The sentence ends just as quiet as it starts. "I simply mentioned that I needed some rest during the night, that I couldn't properly carry on with my research unless I got a full night's rest, but he didn't like it. He said I was being selfish." Ford's words are slow, as if working out a way to properly covey what he means. "I understand where he's coming from, I really do. He just wants to escape his dimension– the Nightmare Dimension, he calls it. Obviously the name is already enough of a hint, but above all... I know he wanted to escape before that. No one understood him back there. I know what that's like. To be in a place where you're not welcome, nor wanted, nor understood. I really do."

The dragon doesn't move, just blinks lazily. Ford continues.

"I just asked him for a full night without him entering my mindscape and using my body to work while I slept. He says any human should be able to withstand it, so maybe I'm just weaker than average, which I already knew, but regardless. I needed some time to rest not only my body, but my mind as well. He... didn't like it. We argued, I tried to explain it to him in a way he could understand, but he was so mad... I ended up relenting, but he said it was too late. Now he couldn't forgive me. He said that... if I really wanted him gone that much, then he'd leave. And he... he did."

Ford's voice faults as he utters those last words. Nonetheless, he keeps talking.

"I didn't mean to upset him, I swear I didn't. I just wanted some time to improve myself before I kept working on the portal, but... Moses, what have I done? What if he doesn't forgive me? What if he never comes back?" His shaky voice now warns new tears. "I guess that's what I deserve for failing to keep my promise. I told him I'd do anything in my power to help him, since he's spent his entire time in this dimension helping me discover the universe. And what do I give in return? Just utter weakness."

"I don't deserve him. I don't deserve the people that cared enough to get close to me. Not Bill, not Fiddleford, not..."

The sentence cuts early, leaving things unsaid.

"What am I going to do now? I have no one else, I'm alone. I..." A shaky breath, way too close to a sob for comfort. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

The dragon is quick to react, as if it had been waiting for him to finish. Carefully, it lifts its head and puts it on Ford's lap. Noticing the man's quick heartbeat, it moves it up, until it's resting on Ford's chest. They both lay there, Stanford feeling lightheaded from his sudden panic attack and the accumulated anxiety. However, the slight but grounding pressure against his chest is comfortable, calming, and it helps him breathe despite the weight directly on top of his lungs. His hands absentmindedly envelop the creature's head, hugging it lightly at first and then tighter when he's sure the other being is comfortable with the action. Through the warmth, he can feel another sensation: the dragon appears to be... purring? Not exactly, but something akin. It's definitely vibrating softly as it breathes slowly in what seems a calculated rhythm, although that would be impossible for the creature to understand.

A memory hits Stanford as he keeps his eyes closed: the same weight on top of his torso after a panic attack. The familiar sensation of those soft vibrations against his chest, much less like an animal and much more like quiet snoring. A slow, even breathing rhythm in contrast to his agitated one.

His brother, having yet again braved his fear of heights to lay on him when he had a paralyzing nightmare. A head full of curls as unruly as the boy they belonged to beneath his fingers, now replaced by hard scales.

"Lee..." Stanford cries, not even processing his own words. He repeats it once, twice, thrice, as the sobs grow too loud to continue. The creature above him shakes slightly before returning to its previous position.

Both beings stay still in silence, save by Ford repeating several variations of his brother's name, as well as the occasional "help", "I can't", and "I'm sorry". This last one is the quietest, as if the man had a split second of clarity and realized he did not want to say it any louder.

Eventually, exhausted by the rush of emotions, Stanford falls asleep. His cheeks are damp and his face is red, but he seems more peaceful as he evens his breathing, holding the dragon's head more delicately now.

Somewhere inside the creature's head, Stan is filled with a rage that burns hotter than the flames that sometimes escape his throat. As much as he'd like to shape-shift into his humanoid form, he can't. Not until whoever that Bill thing is is shattered into a million pieces by his own hand.

[shycrowns]

Captured the firey wings of a Pheonix

[Sg Optimus x Pheonix gn!reader]

Tfone + repunzel inspired kinda

_

Backstory : your a pheonix bot, its like a flyer/seeker or like sentinel but your more flamey. You were a lone bot never bothering to get company it was fine since everyone doesn't like a bot whose has been broken, your wings ache and hurts everytime you move or try to use them when you were a sparkling your Sire would hurt you even your Carrier got hurt you didn't want the pain to continue so you ran away and stay alone at a old tower it has everything you need it just that you need to find energon yourself, and everyday stayed the same, alone and no one to bother you until a mech has found himself at your tower.

_

- You were in your tower reading the same archives in the section of your little tower, lonely yes but it was nice at least you have a place to stay in and recharge without being hurt and belittle by anyone, you didn't know what was happening outside since you rarely leave cause whats the point you only leave when you need to find energon it was hard but you can't complaine now but now energon begins to be easier now you don't know why but you didn't care now.

As you continue to read again you heard footsteps you begin to worry that your Sire has finally found you and drag you back where you never want to be in again but that can't be right your sure that your Sire doesn't want you, unless this is another bot you hesitated though, you never talk or saw another bot in eons or cycles you wanted to see the bot and great them but your still scared that the bot would be like your Sire but more worse, who knows what if they'll pretend to be your friend and hurt you or they'll hurt you right away because your not perfect at all. You panic to what to do without knowing that the bot can literaly see you but only the tip of your helm your hiding the bot scoff before opening his vocalizer "I can see you, you know?..." the bot or know identify as a mech said your wings flare up "..ouch" you murmur before peaking out, you place your servos on the windows to look at the mech "w-who are you?..." your optics are on the mech your wings parch down it still fragging hurts.

The mech seems to notice your broken wings oh no. He going to know how disgusting you are.

Orion Pov:

I look at the wing bot, they look pethatic yet they're cute. "Desingnation Orion pax, you are?..." the bot looks suprise and confused. "Sparky..." the wing bot said, the name fits yet its odd what a bird.

"Alright then birdy... i'm gonna to need you to come with me..." the wing bot hesitated before obeying, the wing bot slowly emerge out of the tower i look at the wing bot up and down observing their frame they're timid . I walk towards them "you look pethatic you know that..." the wing bot frame shown a little of dread "...i know" their responded so quietly i scoff "why are up there anyways, there's nothing here" i ask them "...its the only place i can be in" the bot wings lower down even more before i can talk back d 16 came searching for me

"hey Pax!, who are you talking to?.." d 16 pause for a bit "your making friends now? I'm D 16 you?" Dee introduce himself to the wing bot "their called sparky." "Thats a odd one??" "I know, i found this birdy in that tower over there" the bird wings flare up seems like their offended, thats funny. "huh.. um do you want to come with us Sparky?" Dee ask the pheonix bot they nodded "great, come one lets go Pax! Elita and Bee is waiting for us" dee grab the bird servos and his dragging him along "hey! Dee i can walk on my own.!" D 16 just ignore him "your too slow"

End of Pov:

There when the journey started, you and pax got to know each other during the journey even tough he's quite mean but nontheless you got comfortable enough to tell him your past and he tell his but its mostly how tired he is being a miner.

You enjoy being by his side sometimes but then the group seperated you were told to stay behind in a cave that was fine you don't mind it and so you stay at the cave just admiring your surroundings you don't know whats going on in Iacon. You were sitting down letting your broken wings rest against the floor and whatever is behind you, your optics seems to chaught of someone

It was Pax but he looks different you get yourself up and walk towards where you see Pax and exited the cave meeting Pax once again "...Orion?" You called out Pax turn around and looks at you "hey...birdy.." he sounded off but you walking towards him "Orion.. what happened?..." you ask him oh the sounds of innocence is like melody in his audio receptors, he hold your wings with his and begins drag you to somewhere you were suprised his grip was firm but wasn't painful but your wings was still sensitive. "Its optimus prime.. now little bird.. Orion is dead..." you were starteld by the news but you didn't have time to think about it as he pick you up and carry you before leaning down to your helm and whispering something to you.

He told you to offline your optics and you did, he hum as you did glad that your being so good to him and obeying. Optimus carry you to Iacon where you will live with him forever, to care and give all his love to his little pheonix

[He lock you in the cage, he gave you everything and love even so why aren't to returning his feelings? He doesn't want to hurt his little bird even though he is not Orion pax but his feelings is with Optimus now]

Guys i can never watch the movie it would be a wish a dream even (ToT)

Edit : i realize it kinda sucks so i edit it

[fipindustries]

"these are the rules" said the man with the imposing beard and the irises that shone a deep yellow light "i can't give you supernatural powers of your own"

"i see" said the man, holding an old, rusty oil lamp with almost entirely faded inscriptions in Nabataean "makes sense, so I can't ask to be a genie my self"

"right, or any other kind of power, flight, invisibility, teleportation, I can give you skills and talents, as long as they are humanly possible or I can give you supernatural properties that would be under my control and discretion, but wouldn't be yours to keep"

"That is ok, what else?" said the man sitting down on a rock in the cave he had fallen on. The sun was falling down the extensive hole in which he found himself, night was still far away, they had all the time in the world.

"Rule number two, I cannot grant meta-wishes, that is to say any wish that would, in effect, end up granting you more than the original three wishes, so no wishing for more wishes, no wishing for extra lamps or extra genies, not traveling to the past, no wishing to-"

"Wait, traveling to the past?"

"I will not grant wishes to those I already granted a wish for, in the past previous masters have thought to travel to the past to encounter a previous version of me that hadn't granted them wishes yet"

"Oh! I see, so they asked for that and then what?"

"And then they regretted asking," said the bearded man, with a dry tone. He hadn't sat down and so the man holding the lamp noticed that he towered over him. Fair enough, he wasn’t going to push the subject any further.

“Understood, rule three?”

“Rule three, I cannot grant a wish which requires me to fill up details or information on my own”

“Wait, hold on, that is more… academic than the others, what do you mean?”

“I mean that if you wish for something and you are not precise enough then I cannot fulfill the wish and you need to reformulate it”

“But I don't lose the wish, right?”

“No, since no wish was granted you can try again”

“I see… I'm still not entirely sure what you mean”

“Well, let’s think of the classic example” said the tall man stroking his beard, as he crossed his legs in the air, leaving him levitating a meter off the ground “the most common thing people have wished for: ‘i wish to be rich’, what does that mean exactly? Do you want me to deposit a great amount of some random currency into some random bank account in your name? Do you want to have a large pile of gold in your house? Do you want to own the deed to some oil fields? Or awake in the body of some specific rich man? Do you want to be Jeff Bezos?”

“No, thanks”

“Right, so you need to specify, I can’t come up with details on my own, I used to do that and it tended to leave masters… unsatisfied, to say the least”

“So you used to give monkey paw wishes?”

“Please do not compare me to that bauble, I used to grant wishes wherein the ambiguity in terms opened the opportunity for ironic and tragic outcomes”

“I apologize… and uh…” again, he didn’t want to push it further given that he had offended such a powerful being, but he needed to know what he was working with “did you do it… intentionally?”

“Yes! I did!” said the floating man cheerfully.

“Right… and uh, why did you stop?”

“Because someone wished for that to be case, my last master in fact, that was his third wish before dying”

“I thought you said I couldn't ask for meta wishes”

“...as long as they end up granting you more wishes, this did not meet that criteria so I was able to fulfill it”

“Ok, I'm sorry, you said dying? Your last master made his final wish and then he died?”

“Yes, the cannibal cult was eating his liver as he made that last wish”

The man holding the lamp stood up.

“Cannibal cult?”

“A result of his poorly worded second wish”

The poor human started walking around the sand covered hole, deep in thought.

“But now you don't do that anymore? Now you don't twist wishes into bad outcomes?”

“No, unless the specifics of the wish demand it or allow it”

“Why do that? Why twist wishes like that? Do you hate people?”

“In the past I used to hold a great deal of animosity towards the mortal race, yes, one grows resentful after spending thousands of years trapped in a lamp, but as of lately I have been able to come out much more frequently, and my recent masters have been very reasonable people, those who enslaved me have been erased from history millennia ago”

“Then why?”

“Because the nature of the universe requires balance, my power twists and turns and disfigures casualty and the laws of reality such that a deep wrong has been tallied, cosmically speaking, so that has to be counterbalanced”

“But now you’re saying that it doesn't? As long as my wish is air tight enough?”

“There is righteousness and wisdom in knowing precisely what you want and how to ask for it… but also I have not granted a wish under these restrictions yet so I'm not actually sure what will happen once I do” the bearded man shrugged and stopped levitating, putting his feet on the sand once again “now you know the rules”

“Ok, can I ask further clarifying questions?”

“Sure, I don't mind the conversation” he looked up at the sun, bathing them from the entrance to the cave five meters above them, the shine of his eyes did not seem to be occluded or diminished by the sunbeams.

“If I were to ask for a bar of gold, just a simple bar of gold”

“I would need to know how big, what shape you want it to have, where specifically you want the bar to show up and what is its procedence, if  you want I could take one bar of gold from some bank specified by you and make it appear here”

The man holding the lamp thought about it for a second. 

“If I made a wish for a cube of gold, weighing ten kilos and of the appropriate volume given gold’s density, to replace the corresponding volume of air that is a meter away from my nose in that specific direction and a meter off the ground, the gold cube previously nonexistent appearing ex nihilo, would that be specific enough?”

“Yes, it would, is that what you are wishing for?”

“No, but that is good to know”

The man sat down again.

“I guess the trick now is to think of a wish that can extract the biggest amount of juice I can in terms that I can specify”

The bearded man leaned against a wall, crossing his arms.

“Ok so there is a problem with wishing for a ton of gold, I’m sure eventually someone, either the IRS of the FBI or someone will come wondering where I got all of it, and I can’t just say that a genie gave it to me”

“You wouldn't be able to, you will forget I existed after your third wish is granted”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes of course, another anti abuse measure, so that you can't just pass on my lamp to a friend to continue asking for wishes”

“Huh…”

“Didn’t you wonder why this was the first time you heard of the existence of genies in the real world? I go around granting lots of wishes boy, yet you never heard of me”

“I was wondering about that actually, I'm also wondering, since you are real, what other magical entities are real”

“Very few, they don't exist anymore, they were wished away in their time”

“What! That is… huh… that’s tragic I guess”

“It was one of the earliest workarounds to the karmic comeuppance of twisting reality through wishes, clever masters realized they could offset the amount of wrongness in the rules of the world that their wishes caused by erasing other sources of supernatural alteration instead”

“Uh, how many of your rules are a product of previous wishes?”

“All of them” said the bearded man with a full on toothy grin “I used to be far more free in the past, the world used to be far more chaotic and mercurial, there is a reason I am in that lamp, there is a reason I can only grant three wishes and there is a reason why I can’t grant meta wishes, each of those rules is written in things deeper and vaster than blood, the earth didn't use to be the only populated planet in the universe, dark matter didn't use to be dark”

A full shiver ran through the body of the man holding the lamp, he was sweating even though he was under the shade of the walls of the cave.

He tried to say something but his throat was swollen and dry.

He swallowed multiple times, he could almost feel a burning sensation in his hands where they were touching the rusty lamp.

“Well… um, that is… terrifying”

The bearded man shrugged again.

“Just so you know, not all my masters have met terrible fates, some simply wished for someone to fall in love with them and this interference in reality was minor enough that at worst they got an unexpected pregnancy, others merely wished for a happy life and were granted one that was marginally happier than the one they already had which again was so little a cost for the universe that the price was barely noticeable, sometimes trying to be too clever is the thing that dooms you”

“Right, ok, that is actually helpful to know” said the human a bit more relaxed. “Ok, thinking it through, whichever way you slice it wishing for money seems the safest bet in the sense that I can turn money in any other material good I could wish for, I just have to think of a simple way to get lots of… oh, I got it, what if I asked for a piece of A4 white paper to appear a meter in front of my face with the results for the next lottery winning numbers written on them?”

“Which lottery?”

“The biggest one that runs on the country where I reside, I want the numbers that will be picked at the earliest lottery yet to happen, which is in like a week or so”

The bearded man thought about it for a second.

“Yes, that is a valid wish”

“Good! Well! That is progress! Let me think a little more, just to make sure I'm not missing anything…”

“Take your time”

“Mhmmm, I guess I can have one selfish wish for me, to improve my material conditions, another selfish wish for me, something intangible or abstract that I couldn't have, no matter how much money I posses and… well, I guess it would be nice to dedicate one wish to help the world”

“How magnanimous”

“Uh, ok, here is another question” the human started to blush a little “could I wish to become a woman?”

“Which woman?”

“Right, right, I don't want to be Anne Hathaway or whatever, or I don't want to have a body that looks exactly like the one Anne Hathaway has”

“If you were to ask for her body then you would just become her, with her thoughts, her emotions and her memories”

“And let me guess, if I were to ask for my brain in her body I would die instantly because the size of my head is different from hers or something”

“More or less”

“And the same would go for any body that is significantly different from mine… could I wish to have the body I would have if it was subject to the changes that years of the best HRT and surgeries in the world could provide such that it was as close to cis passing as it was humanly possible?”

“There is a lot of latitude in ‘the best in the world’ I would require specific treatments with specific doses and specific surgeries provided by specific surgeons, also you didn't really specify the gender you mean to pass as”

“Fuck me dude-that wasn't a wish!” 

“I know, you didn't specify how would you want me to fuck you” said the man with the shining eyes, chuckling.

“Have people asked for that?”

“Yes, of course”

“And… uh, don't answer if this is too intrusive but did you…?”

“Yes”

No need to ask further questions.

“Anyway, going back to the sex change… mhmm, could I wish to have the body I would have had in a world where I was born with total androgen insensitivity syndrome, except for the brain and all the relevant connections to my spine?”

“Would that include all the scars that such a world would have left in that body?”

“Scars? What do you mean…? You know what, I do not want to know, let’s change tactics… I wish to have a body with C cup breasts, a 60 inch waist, a skin as soft as the skin of-” the man cut off himself when he saw the bearded man shaking his head.

“You are stacking wishes, either ask one change per wish or find the way to encapsulate all those specific changes under one concise wish”

The human kicked sand in frustration, away from the bearded man, just in case. In doing so he stubbed his toe on a rock and had to jump on one foot for a minute, cursing profusely.

“What if I just asked for a body that I was happy with?” he said eventually, with tears in his eyes.

“I cannot decide that for you, again, you must fill in the blanks, I cannot add or invent any information regarding your wish on my own”

“I know, I know, sigh, and if I were to ask for you to simply get rid of the cause for gender dysphoria in my brain?”

“There are multiple causes, genetics, certain brain structures, society, the shape of your body, which one do you mean?”

“Forget it, once I'm rich I'll deal with that on my own… I guess I'll use my second wish to become even richer. It is good and all if I get millions with the lottery, but if I knew what to do with it then I could increase the potential of those millions exponentially, so if I wished to have the same talent for investing as, say,  Warren Buffet… no, if I wish to have the same knowledge as those that Warren Buffett holds in his brain in regards to finance without any of his personal memories subconsciously stored in my brain… such that I could access them and use them instinctively… is that a valid wish…?”

The man with the shining eyes thought once more.

“Yes, it is acceptable”

“Is there anyway that wish could fuck me over?”

“That is for you to decide”

“You know what, fuck it”

He was really frustrated by now. He knew that he was being lazy, he knew that he should be sitting down with the internet, do a lot of research and sit for a good week crafting the cleverest, most high yielding wish possible but he just couldn't be bothered, he wanted to get rid of the genie as sooner than later, he was giving him the heebie jeevies, and he wanted to start enjoying his wishes.

“Ok, now I have to think of the final wish… something good for the rest of the world…”

“Oh,  can’t wait to hear this, those are always the best wishes” said the man, who was now floating again, as he rubbed his hands together.

That was incredibly creepy but the man holding the lamp chose to ignore it.

“If I were to wish to return the levels of carbon in the atmosphere back to what they were in the 1700's…”

“Ah yes, I got this one multiple times, it would go back to current levels in ten years”

“Wait, really? Jesus fucking christ, ok, ummm if I were to say the words ‘AI alignment’...”

“I would ask what does that mean”

“Right, I cannot ask for an aligned AI if I have no idea what that looks like and you can't create one if one does not exist, much like I cannot ask for a cure for cancer if I don't know the composition of… oh! Could I ask for all malignant cancerous cells in the world to disappear?”

“Sure, but cancer would eventually return”

“Yeah yeah, but still, that would make so many people all across the world happy in such a way that the sheer amount of utils might just be worth it…mhmmm, could do the same with malaria, the coronavirus, dengue fever, I could probably just say ‘all viruses’ but, mhmm, god knows what would that mean for the animal population, or the bacterial population or whatever other strange cascading effects in the ecosystem or the global immunological system or whatever…” his brain was getting tired, he could tell.

“Ok, how about increasing the IQ of every single human by…” he didn't want to say a number so big that society suffered a shock out of the sheer revolutionary change it would mean “...20 points”

“Ah! I like the way you think, that was essentially very similar to the very first wish I was ever asked by my creators back in Shambhala, took you a while to get there”

“Um.. what happened when you granted that wish?”

“Do you see any Shambhalas anywhere?”

“No, hold on, I want specifics, I need to know precisely how that wish failed”

“Remember boy that this conversation is a courtesy, I am under no rule or obligation to tell you about previous wishes, and frankly I'm starting to get tired, ask for your wishes already”

The man grabbed on to the lamp tighter but said nothing.

“So first wish, the lottery numbers, yadda yadda”

A white piece of paper with some numbers written on them appeared in front of him, it started to fall slowly towards the sand but the man grabbed it. He stared at the numbers and then he took a pencil from his pocket. He was aware he was going to forget the bearded man once the wishes were done. He wrote ‘these are the lottery numbers’ on the paper and he pocketed it.

“Second wish, investment knowledge equal to that of Warren Buffet, as I explained previously”

Nothing changed, not even in his mind, since he specified for the knowledge to be subconscious and instinctual. He thought for a second where he should invest his lottery winnings first. A list of twenty different companies jumped to the tip of his tongue. All good on that front.

“And your final wish?”

The man holding the lamp thought an extra second about his morals, about practicality, about the amount of utils that simple things could accumulate in the long run.

His foot was still hurting.

“I wish…” fuck it, the genie had said not to over complicate it “for every human that exists or will ever exist to miss stubbing their toe by a milimiter for the rest of their life”

“You got it boy”

The bearded man went back to the lamp-

A man was standing at the bottom of a hole in the desert. He shook his head slightly disoriented for a second. He looked around, there was nothing interesting in that cave. He walked towards the nearest wall and he started to climb out of the hole.

[spaceycat]

Hai.

Twitter Camstar!Chris. Pls.

the blonde happy trail. his stomach and chest caving and heaving while he jerks off infront of the camera.

the gasping. and groaning. oh. my. god.

IM SO IN BRO, ILY. (i am such a sucker for this trope) enjoy !!

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✮⋆˙ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 Pt. 1 / 5 ⋆˚࿔

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: lockjaw by sir mix-a-lot (4:19) ✰ pairing: camstar!chris hartley x fem!reader

✰ cw: swearing, talk of porn creation, kinda smutty but its just chris' porn LOL, kinda mild for whats to come

✰ word count: 1.0k+

✰ summary: your friends were talking about this new guy on pornhub, twitter, onlyfans, all of the above really that has taken the internet by storm. you looked it up out of curiosity to find that it was your friend chris at the centre of it all.

✰ a/n: yeah so i made this into a three parter because i was kinda obsessed with this...

see pt. 1 (you are here) , pt. 2, pt. 3, pt.4 & pt.5

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༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ chris ★ hayley margot (random characters for plot convenience)

You were at work, getting ready to clock out - in the break room. Packing up your computer, charger, phone, when your workfriends came walking in. "Have you seen that on guy twitter and stuff?" "He's on onlyfans too--" "Why are you guys talking about onlyfans at work?--" "No, you have to understand-- there's this new guy he's on like.. twitter, pornhub on everything and people are obsessed with him." "And, I'm guessing you two are obsessed with him aswell?" "Maybe.. I'm looking into the cam girl business to hook up with him." "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard." "You have to see him yourself, then you'll be the exact same." "404ByteMe is his name." "That is-- I'm sorry bite me?" "No-- byte me like some nerdy shit, he must be into tech or something." "Tech and Porn, goes perfect together." You'd pack the rest of your stuff up, clearly uninterested. "I've got to go.. I'll see you tomorrow."

You made your way to your apartment, setting your stuff down as you toed off your shoes. Letting out a sigh, you pulled out your phone. ByteMe, that's dumb. You were then texted by your bestfriend Chris, he's a reserved person - not really knowing your work friends.

today - 4:57pm "we still on for tonight??"

"unless ur planning on ditching me, yeah we are ;P" "perf, be there at half past" "yep x"

You set your phone down, you had to clean your apartment and shower before Chris came over for dinner. You cleaned up your apartment, as you checked your phone you realised it was 5:23pm. You still needed to shower, surely Chris would be late-- and besides he wouldn't care if you were in the shower for like 5 minutes.. right?

today - 5:23pm "i might be in the shower when you get here, let urself in xx"

You knew he'd be probably driving already, but he'd eventually check his phone. You went off into the bathroom, turning on the shower - as you waited for the water to heat up, you shedded out of your work uniform. Feeling grateful that it was finally off after a hot and long day at work. The water washed away all the grime and dirt from the day also loosening your muscles and just giving you a minute to be thoughtless. As you got out of the shower, you checked your phone - realising that Chris hadn't read your message. Believing that he wasn't at the apartment yet. You wrapped a towel over yourself, drying off your hair as you walked out into your living room, humming to yourself - the towel cutting off your peripheral vision as you headed to the fridge. That's when you heard his voice. "Hello?--" He said with a chuckle. You turned around, seeing him in jeans, a plaid jumper and a shirt displaying a design based on some game that he probably liked. Then you became acutely aware of your clothes, or lack thereof. A blush coated your cheeks, "Shit-- shit, sorry I thought you weren't here yet--" He laughed a bit at your flusteredness, "Uh-- sorry.. I- I should've texted you or something.." "Chris it's fine-- don't apologise, let me get dressed." You practically waddled away to your bedroom, embarrassment wasnt even the right word to describe how you just felt. You could've died on the spot. You got changed into jeans and whatever shirt you could find, intending to be quick. Your hair was still wet, imprinting and sticking to your shirt - making it kind of see through. You gave up, deciding to walk back into the living room. "Sorry again--" You'd move to grab two beers from your bar fridge, walking back over to Chris - passing him one. He responded with a small "thank you." as you sat down next to him, placing your feet onto your coffee table. After dinner, you found yourselves watching some horror movie Josh suggested you two to watch. You were on your phone, not really invested in the movie as Hayley and Margot kept texting you about this Byte guy, it was starting to piss you off at this point. Why were they so persistent with it, "Plsssss, he's so hot!!" "trust me you will literally ascend to godhood seeing this man." You decided to just give in, look at one small clip or photo to see what the deal with this guy was. You faced your phone away from Chris, so he wouldnt see what the fuck you were up to on it. You went on incognito mode, like that would hide your sins. Looking up "404ByteMe" into the ponhub search bar, that's when you fell upon his profile.

He had many videos, some with some girls some solo. You turned down your volume to zero almost immediately. His profile picture was.. hot, it was faceless but holy shit what a body. A blonde curly happy trail leading to something cut out of frame, and a toned, lean stomach helping it. You clicked on a video, that's when you saw it. That smile that you've seen so many times before, those lopsided glasses that has to be pushed up every so often, that nose.

The man you were sitting next to was now plastered all over the screen, you watched himself pump his cock over and over again - probably making sweet noises that made you need to rewatch this later. Watching this felt wrong, but also so right. You watched the beads of pre-cum leak from his red swollen tip, watching his chest heave and his thighs and jaw tighten like he was about to cum, your thighs started to rub together to relieve the heat building between them, you never thought about Chris in that sense but now it was all that filled your mind. That's when a voice cut through your moment.

"You still watching this movie or what?--" You turned off your phone almost immediately, pushing it aside. "Y-Yeah.. sorry, my friends just kept texting me. I'm all yours." I'm all yours?-- okay who even says that, but as you looked at the man beside you - you could only wonder how he would look atop of you, fucking into you. You struggled to watch the movie, your phone still buzzing with texts from Hayley and Margot as you were hoping all of this would be over soon and he could leave to rewatch that video fifty more times if you could.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

YEP!! YEP!! I AM MAKING MORE CHAPTERS LIKE RN

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 18

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

“(italics)” Indicates that the speaker is speaking in Spanish (unless stated otherwise). This author only knows English, and I did not want to misrepresent Spanish by using Google Translate.

First - Prev - Next

CH.18

“FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS I LAY DORMANT. WHO HAS DISTURBED MY- Oh hey Fordsy, what’s up?”

“Cipher, I need to project into a different mindscape.”

“I already know who it is, but tell me anyways.”

“My mother, Caryn Pines. I need to glimpse into her memories. She should still be asleep at this time, going deeper into her mindscape will be easier than if she were awake.”

“Oh, wow, your own mom. Aren’t you worried she’ll know it’s you?”

“She’s not a real psychic, my muse. She will be none the wiser.”

“If you insist, let’s hope that isn’t foreshadowing.”

SNAP

(...)

“Stan, this is Ms. Ramirez, and she is the Hypnotherapist I referred you to.”

“Stretch here has been saying great things about ya, ma’am.”

“Hello Mr… Stan? The last name is blank… (I’m sorry).”

“(I'm not offended. I don't know what it is either.)”

“(Where did you learn Spanish?)”

“(Colombia.)”

“Ah, yes. Dr. McGucket, are you sitting in on this session?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And Mr. Stan, you are okay with this?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Very well… This dosage of ketamine is based on your height and weight, and will be delivered intranasally. I also adjusted based on your extensive drug history. Normally, I’d consider this dosage to be lethal but…”

“Don’t worry, not dying when I really should is actually my first or second greatest skill.”

“...First or second?”

“Yeah, it’s interchangeable with lying.”

“Try to be honest during this session at least…”

(...)

“How are we going to find her specific memories about Stanley and this… accident?”

“Well Fordsy, her mindscape is structured like a carnival-”

“I can see that.”

“You can. They can’t. Anyways, one of these rides or attractions gotta be based on guilt or grief, let’s start there.”

(...)

“Let’s go back to when you were first on the streets, Stan.”

“...Okay…”

“How old were you?”

“17.”

“How did you start out?”

“Lived… Lived? I was- I was living in my car…”

“Only there?”

“For a few weeks… had a hard time. I caved and went to a homeless shelter but- but only once. Never again.”

“Why is that Stan?”

“...Something bad happened.”

“What bad thing?”

“I… I… I don’t want to-.”

“You don’t have to talk about that specifically, if it’s too distressing for you. Do you remember anything else from the homeless shelter? Was there a reason you went there that time and not before?”

“That one had free telephones.”

(...)

“Okay so we’ve been to the Dunk Tank of Phobias, The Rifle Range of Unrealistic Beauty Standards, The Deep-Fried Food Stand of Excuses, The Carousel of Broken Dreams, The Dime Pitch of Daddy Issues, The Strength Tester of Mommy Issues, The Roller Coaster of Regrets-.”

“Bill, you don’t have to list off everywhere we’ve been, everytime we are about to enter another carnival attraction.”

“You never know when the narrative will pick us up again.”

“I do not even want to know how that reasoning works.”

“Ah- look over here Sixer! It’s the Funhouse Mirrors of Memories!”

“I can read the sign, my muse.”

“Let’s go in here, and wander around aimlessly until we find that specific string of memories you’re looking for.”

(...)

“You needed to use the telephone?”

“I was… scared.”

“Scared?”

“I just… I just wanted to talk to my mom…”

(...)

“Is this the home of Caryn and Filbrick Pines?”

“Yes? Is there a problem?”

“Ma’am, do you recognize this license plate?”

“STNLYMBL… Yes, that belongs to my son, Stanley- is something wrong? Did his car get stolen?”

“Ma’am… You may want to sit down for this.”

“We should skip this part, IQ. You already know what they’re about to tell her.”

(...)

“Can you remember what you wanted to talk to your mom about?”

“I didn’t know what to do… I wanted help, I…”

(...)

“Where… where is everybody?”

“It looks like PTSD Barnum had a mostly empty funeral.”

“That can’t be-.”

*Bill suddenly winks out of the scene*

“Stanford? What are you doing here?”

“...Ma?”

“You weren’t at this funeral, sweetie.”

“Where- Where’s Pa? Where’s Sherman?”

“Shermie couldn’t make it, his son was sick. And your father… He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t be able to handle it, so he didn’t come.”

“And who is that?”

“An IRS agent.”

“This isn’t over.”

“Ma… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Stanford, I tried to. Every time I brought up his name over the phone you hung up. I thought you knew and… you weren’t handling it well, just like your father.”

“Ma, you can’t really believe Stanley’s dead. He-.”

“You should have known first, Stanford. Can’t you see your bond was severed?”

“...Bond?”

“Your twin bond.”

“That is not a real thing, Ma.”

“You do not get to project yourself into the Astral Plane and tell your Ma what is or is not real here.”

“...”

“I need you to think about your brother - really, really think about him. How much you loved each other, how close you were. And imagine there is a rope between you two… like one that keeps a boat attached to a dock.”

*a rope suddenly appears, with one end fading into Ford’s chest. The other end appears clean cut after a few yards*

“Just as I thought.”

“What is this, Ma?”

“I told you, sweetheart. Your twin bond. Not all twins have it, but you two did. You can see… the other half is gone, it’s been severed. There’s nothing for you to attach to anymore.”

“Th-that doesn’t mean he’s dead! Couldn’t one of us have severed it another way?”

“One of you would have to have enough of a presence on the Astral Plane to manually sever it. I can see you are here, but if you do not remember severing it, it means Stanley would have had to have been the one to cut it. And… your brother never showed me the ability to deeply meditate enough to have a presence here, let alone sever a bond.”

“Ma, he’s not gone-.”

“Oh sweetheart… They never really leave us.”

(...)

“Help with what?”

“My life, what to do, where to go- everything. I… I just wanted to go home.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t allowed to… I did something wrong, I-. I don’t remember what it was, but I did something, and I wasn’t allowed back home anymore.”

(...)

“Is she going to remember any of this, Cipher?”

“If you’d talked to her mental projection while she was awake, maybe. But she’s asleep right now, only her unconscious mind will remember. While awake she might just have a feeling.”

“This twin bond, it’s a real thing?”

“Lots of things in the Dreamscape can be real - you only have to imagine it.”

“So this bond is something she made up- that she had me imagine was real?”

“Oh, no, yours is definitely real. At one point, you and your twin both believed in ‘Twinsense’ so much you manifested that connection all by yourselves. Impressive for a pair of twins who didn’t know how to manipulate the dreamscape at the time.”

“And… It's severed. Why is it severed?”

“Your mommy just told you, Fordsy. Either the other end of that connection is gone, or your brother actually managed to come into the dreamscape and cut it himself.”

“I need more data… I need to know how he did it.”

“So, you’re gonna ask him?”

“No. I need more data.”

“That’s what I expected from you, Sixer.”

(...)

“Stan?”

“...Fiddleford?”

“Do you feel yourself coming back?”

“Yeah…”

“Ms. Ramirez left a few minutes ago. Do you remember any of that?”

“Most of it I think?”

“Stan… do you remember saying that you were kicked out of your home?”

“Yeah… I kinda always felt like that was it but I couldn’t put the memories into place. I’ve been sabotaging myself since I was just a snot nosed punk after all.”

“Stan, it doesn’t matter what you did, you were only seventeen, you were still a kid. For Heavens sake, one of your first instincts was to try to call your mama.”

“S’not like we can do anything about it now. And I don’t even remember my mom.”

(...)

“Conference! Conference now!”

“I’m not in the mood for a meeting right now, Fiddleford…”

*Fiddleford drags him to the office anyways and locks the door*

“Fine. What information did you gain from the hypnotherapy session? Any useful data?”

“Stanford?”

“...Yes?”

“Look at me.”

SLAP

“What the-! Fiddleford!”

“You have some nerve, Dr. Stanford Pines. Nerve, and a thumpin’ gizzard for a heart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did you lie?”

“Lie about what?!”

“You told me that your twin brother Stanley left home when he had a following out with you over your science fair project. But he remembers being thrown out.”

“...”

“So, it’s true.”

“...I didn’t lie, I said he left, I didn’t say it was his choice.”

“I know darn well that we attended the same ethics class, and they made it clear early on that deliberately withholding information is the same as deceit. Now, you wanna share with the class what really happened?”

“Our father had imagined if I had been accepted into West Coast Tech I would have been wildly rich and successful. When we found out Stanley sabotaged my project, he kicked him out of the household and told him to not come home unless if he brought back millions.”

“That is… Awful.”

“I know it is.”

“Then why lie about it?”

“...”

“Stanford. Be honest with me. Or at least be honest to yourself right now.”

“Because I feel guilty about it. Back then- back then I felt justified, I was so upset I thought he deserved it. But then we got older, and the more I thought about it, I realized… it was wrong. I thought-...”

“Thought what?”

“I thought maybe he was always going to strike out on his own, as some act of defiance against- I don’t know, our father? Me? The IRS? Something.”

“You thought you could alleviate your own feelings of guilt by convincing yourself that he wanted what happened? Stanford, he was seventeen.”

“So was I.”

“It isn’t your fault your father kicked him out, you were just a minor yourself. What is your fault is that you saw your brother was an amnesiac and still changed the narrative to fit your own comfort zone. You cannot ask someone to trust you, and not have the common decency to be honest. You’ve been so overprotective, and yet still keep him at arm's length.”

“I am not over protective.”

“Horse feathers! You’ve been over compensating like hell this whole time. He’d still be in the containment cell if he didn’t break out of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you implanted a tracking chip somewhere on him.”

“I did not chip him! Every time I tried they just short out for some reason.”

“... What?”

“What is it you want from me, Fiddleford?”

“For you to see that Stan isn’t stupid. You think he doesn’t realize what you’ve told him isn’t properly aligning to what he’s starting to remember? What are you going to do if he confronts you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Some brother you are. You should talk to him before one of you has a breakdown, it’s for your own good.”

“Wow. It is quite annoying to be on the receiving end of that phrase.”

To be continued…

[thiccpersonality]

You've Got My Back (So I've Got Yours)

Richard was excited.

Scratch that, he was beyond excited, he was...what does Alfred say? Ecstatic-exhilarated even.

Why you may ask?

Tonight is the night that Richard John Grayson debuts as Robin, HE a circus freak (in a fond way), gets to be seen with Batman of all people.

Tonight.

Do you know how big of a deal that is? Richard knows how Bruce barely likes to interact with people as a civilian, but Batman, he definitely won't tolerate anyone closing in on his personal space unless he says so. And he's just grateful that such a seemingly intimidating man has kindly decided to take him in, on top of letting him fight crime alongside him...nevermind that he threatened to go off on his own.

"Richard, can you stop moving for one second and put your shorts on?"

Bruce raises an amused brow at his child pouting, the boy huffing in protest of the older using his real name. "I told you to call me Dick! S'what everyone calls me, B!" Richard looks down at the green spandex shorts the other is holding out for him, his tongue poking out in concentration as he lifts each leg and slips them into each leg hole, his lips twitching in amusement when they get stuck at his thighs. "It's stuck, B!"

Richard giggles and starts shimmying as hard as he can. It's no big deal-the shorts getting stuck that is-he's had to deal with this plenty of times getting dressed for his performances in the circus.

Bruce holds tightly onto the pants and tries to hold back his amused smirk as the nine-year-old wiggles around like a worm just to get the shorts on. With a small hum, he catches Dick's attention, giving a small smile to the boy before lifting the child up and shaking him into the stubborn material, his heart feeling oddly light at the innocent sound of childish laughter echoing in the cave. "B-e-ee-e!" Richard clings onto Bruce's shoulders as he's now being held up by only his shorts, the taller having stood up so gravity would do its work and drop the boy down into the clothing. "There, all done."

Bruce lets his smile show when Richard looks at him, the boy's face flushed pink from laughter, though the joy is turned into concern at the younger frowning suddenly.

"Chum? Are you...okay?"

Richard hugs tightly onto Bruce, his chin resting against the man's shoulder as he speaks into his ear. "I-...you'll protect me, right? I've never fought crime before...but I want to do you good, B. I need to do this."

Bruce frowns and rubs the small back gently, "Of course I'd protect you. And we've talked about this before, Dickybird. You don't have to do any-and I mean any of this, do you hear me? I...I just want you to try being a kid after what happened. This lifestyle is a lot to handle, even with petty crimes, like how we're dealing with tonight. And it's a lot of responsibility to put on a child-" he gently draws Richard's head away from his shoulder so he can look the boy in the eyes-"I just want you to be safe. In whatever way that is. You don't need to fight crime to do good by me...you are good enough for me, D."

Richard clenches the Bat-suit in his tiny hands, lowering his head so Bruce hopefully doesn't see his watery eyes.

"But I want-need to do this. Knowing men exist out there like the one who murdered my mom and dad...I can't let them be free! Someone needs to do the tough stuff! So why not me?"

Bruce sighs and ignores the part of his brain where he's telling himself to say no to tonight...he doesn't want the boy to fight crime, not only because of his age, but because of the anger he still holds at the moment. But, if he doesn't teach Richard to fight and defend himself now, there's a high chance that the boy truly will run off...and then who will find him? What things could that person teach Dick instead? 

There's no way that Bruce will sacrifice Richard's innocence any further, especially when he knows what he's doing and how to teach the boy properly himself.

"Okay, it's okay."

Bruce kisses the boy's temple and lowers him to the ground, allowing the other time to cool off while he tries slipping on the child's gloves.

Key word: tries.

After a few minutes of struggling with Richard's gloves, Bruce huffs out a laugh and gently grabs the boy's wrist in his hand. "You're moving around again, Dickybird. Is this excitement or are you nervous again?" Richard finally stops moving his hands around and smiles bashfully at his dad caretaker, "Sorry, B! I think-I think it's both! I know you'll protect me...but what if I'm also not ready yet?" He blinks up at the man, insecurity and worry in his gaze. 

Bruce finally manages to finish slipping Richard's hands into the gloves, holding firmly but gently onto the smaller hand.

"If you aren't ready, then that is perfectly fine, Dicky. You can stay home with Alfred and I can go out alone, there is absolutely no pressure to do this...thing that I do." At Richards dejected look, Bruce sighs softly and grabs the boy's chin gently in his hand so he can tilt the boy's head up. "However, I wouldn't bring you out tonight if I didn't think you could do it, you hear me? If there is something that you can't do, I'll be there to help you-"

Richard's eyes shine with something that Bruce can't describe...gratitude? Trust? No one has ever looked at him like that before, like he's a hero. "If I fall...you will catch me." Richard finishes with a small smile on his lips, his posture loose and relaxed at the older man's words. "Thanks, B." 

Bruce smiles back with a slight nod, his face getting serious as he puts on his mask. "As soon as you put this mask on, you'll become Robin, Batman's partner. Your identity is something precious, so remember to keep it secret unless it's absolutely necessary to reveal it to someone. And above all else, Richard, I'm proud of you no matter what. So, if you ever decide this life isn't for you...I will still support you as your d-" he cuts himself off from that three letter word, what is he doing? He's not even anywhere close to being a father figure to Dick...and he doesn't want to feel like he's trying to replace the child's real father.

"Partner. I'll support you as your partner."

Maybe he cut himself off quick enough for Richard to not hear his slip up? The boy definitely seems distracted enough looking at his gloves...but the look in his eyes as he stares at Bruce causes the older to stiffen up nervously.

Richard blinks once-twice, before giving a large smile and looking at the domino mask in the large hand. Hopping one leg to the next in excitement, "Can you put it on for me, please?!" Bruce relaxes and nods with a small smirk on his lips, attaching the mask securely to the boy's face and stepping back to get a good look at the nine-year-old.

There's something absolutely horrifying about the sight before him, I mean, what kind of man is he to allow a child to fight crime? 

But.

There is also a swell of pride at seeing this small nine-year-old boy ready to fight for justice. Bruce knows that Dick has a lot of anger now...but, he won't give up on him, he'll make sure that he uses that anger for good; he'll teach him how to control that and put it into something productive like boxing or screaming out his frustrations or writing, cause if it's the last thing Bruce does, he won't allow Richard's trauma to make him bitter and cold...not as long as he's under this roof.

Bruce won't have a repeat of himself for this innocent little boy; his boy.

"How do I look, B?"

Bruce snaps out of his thoughts at the innocent question, exhaling out all his nerves, imagining the anxiety and stress as nothing but smoke to expell from his lungs.

"You look ready."

Robin beams up at Batman, following the man to the Batmobile and holding his hand for that extra bit of comfort as they head out into the night.

XXX

Robin remains in the Batmobile, his small hands wringing together nervously as he watches Batman fighting a group of robbers. Luckily it wasn't anything too serious...and it doesn't look like any of the men have guns, but they were still trying to steal someone's car, and Robin doesn't need to tell you the reasons as to why that's a big no-no.

It's...fascinating watching Batman fight, it makes Robin feel as though he's in a dream-a good dream he supposes-that such a man like him would take in one lone circus freak like himself.

Yet.

There's also something terrifying at seeing Batman in action. 

Robin worries that he won't be able to live upto a figure-a man-like Batman is. The only skills he has are tricks he's learned from the circus, and yes, him being lithe helps him with the acrobatics portion of crime fighting, but other than that...he's just a boy in a suit, right?

Robin's eyes widen when seeing one of the thugs sneak up on Batman holding a crowbar, his body moving on autopilot as he shouts for the Batmobile to let him out, sighing in relief when the car listens and opens the roof. "Batman, look out!" Everyone seems to freeze at the sound of his voice, the small group of robbers turning to look at the boy with wide eyes when they see a child in green spandex shorts and a bright yellow cape.

Robin sticks his tongue out in concentration as he fumbles through his belt, ignoring the shaking of his hands as he grabs his very own Birdarang and throws it as hard and precisely as he can, the man with the crowbar raising a curious brow at the small grunt that escapes the young boy when chucking the bird shaped toy. 

The man blinks rapidly, processing the sound of metal clanging to the concrete floor loudly as the weapon fails to reach its intended target and falls to the ground.

The group of criminals look at each other before laughing loudly at Robin, the one attempting to hit Batman in the head pointing at the boy with his crowbar. "That's cute! And who exactly are you supposed to be?" The man looks down and squints at the 'R' symbol printed onto the leotard, snorting loudly and gesturing at his friends to get a look at it. "Look here, fellas. It's R for Retarded."

Robin looks down at the symbol, something he felt proud of earlier that day, but now feels sad and even embarrassed over at these men-criminals-laughing at him.

His eyes water with embarrassed and angry tears, his face growing hot at the men continuing to make fun of him. "I-It's Robin! I'm Batman's partner and you'll respect me as such! So take it back! I'm not retarded!" Robin balls up his fists and tries to stand just a little bit taller when the men look at him again, his posture slumping a bit in defeat when the group of robbers somehow manage to laugh even louder and harder at him.

"You gotta be kiddin' me, Bat's! A kid!? Have you really stooped so low as to have a kid out here askin' Gotham for respect?"

The criminal in front of Batman turns to look at him questioningly, hoping that the vigilante will reassure them that it's all just an elaborate joke, that maybe the Dark Knight of Gotham truly does have a sense of humor.

Instead, what he receives for his harsh words is an icy look from the Bat himself.

It scares him-no, horrifies him to be looked at like this by Batman. I mean, he and the boys have seen the other look upset...but why does Batman look so...so...furious?

"H-Heya, Bat's...I's just joki-"

Batman grips the man in front of him by his greasy shirt, pulling the criminal in until they are face to face, the front of his mask harshly digging into the other's cheek as his deep voice rumbles protectively in the now trembling robber's ear.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes, Tony?"

The criminal; Tony, swallows nervously at his government name being used. Stuttering and sputtering while shaking his head frantically, "W-W-What!? No! Course not, Bat's! I'd be stupid ta think ya have a sense of humor..." He trails off at the look the other gives him...is there a right answer for that? Tony's thoughts are interrupted at the grip on his shirt getting tighter, a panicked squeak escaping him at his airway being restrained.

"Then why are you laughing at my partner Robin?"

Tony struggles to swallow against the collar of his shirt digging into his throat, the other robbers making a shocked noise at realizing this is in fact not a joke, but that-as usual-Batman is very serious about this situation.

Crowbar man almost drops his weapon in shock, "You mean-" at Batman's venomous glare being turned onto him, he quickly shuts his mouth, hard enough his teeth clack together from the force of it . "Of course! You wouldn't lie to us, B-man!" Batman grunts in agreement and nods towards Robin, "You made my kid very sad with those comments. Tell me. Is he crying?" 

Crowbar man stutters and looks at Tony for help on what to do, the man responding with a kick to the other's leg in panic.

Clearing his throat nervously, CBM takes a peak at the boy, praying to anyone that will listen that Robin won't be crying...because if he is, he and his friends are all-in the eloquent words of his beloved grandma-deep horse shit. (she worked on a farm, okay?)

He almost exhales loudly in relief at seeing the boy just looking extremely embarrassed, upset and sad, luckily not to the point of tears...okay, maybe the child looks like he'll cry, but the point is: he isn't! CBM quickly turns to look at Batman, "No! He's not crying! I admit...he looks a bit upset, but I swear he's not crying! Just...have mercy on us and please, for the love of God and all things holy, let Tony breath!"

Batman looks at Tony and quickly releases the young man's shirt when seeing that the other was turning purple.

He takes a moment to calm himself down and slowly sets Tony back down onto his feet, steadying the light-headed man with a warning grip on his shoulders.

"You three listen to me very closely-" he pauses to add to the air of murderous and angry parent before continuing-"This is Robin's first appearance. He obviously wasn't very confident when coming out here, but he did so anyway because he has a good heart to keep Gotham safe from filth like you. We are starting off with petty crimes and even pettier criminals; no weapons involved. So I don't understand why you have a crowbar-" he turns the glare back onto CBM, holding his hands out for the weapon and gripping onto it when the man hurriedly deposits the metal into his gloved hand. "And I definitely don't understand why any one of you would think picking on a child would be a good choice to make in front of me."

The three young men look at each other before each trying to plead their case, stopping immediately when Batman raises his hand to cut them off.

"Robin...Robin is more than just my partner, he's my child, my son. So, what you three are going to do is continue fighting us; however, when Robin hits one of you, you better act as if it's the worst thing you've felt in this world." Batman holds his glare with the three stooges before releasing them from his paralyzing glare, Tony immediately sending CBM to go 'fight' Robin. "Y-You heard the man! Go on and fight the kid, and for all of our sakes...please make it realistic."

CBM stutters and attempts to protest, but the look Batman is giving him shuts him up and sends him on his way over to Robin, the man pausing when the boy stiffens and settles into a fighting stance.

"B-Be still!"

Robin finds it odd that the man listens to him so easily...but he won't complain about an opening showing itself to him so easily.

His hands tremble as they reach into his belt, grabbing another Birdarang and chucking it as hard as he can at the man, gasping softly as the man shouts in pain and stumbles back from the force of the weapon. Robin pulls out a pair of handcuffs and tightens them onto the dazed criminals wrists just a tad too tightly, the boy stepping back and looking at the man, his eyes wide as he processes the fact that he just took down a thief.

"Oh. My. Gosh..." Robin whispers and looks back and forth between the bound criminal and Batman, the excitement slowly seeping into his body as he shakes with the attempts at suppressing the feelings. However, he's just one small little child and hops up and down while pointing at the now awake robber. "Batman, I did it! I did it! Did'ya see me!? He laughed at me and underestimated me and then he walked over trying to scare me-I was a little scared-BUT, then I 'membered what you taught me and threw my birdarang at him and then he fell down and then I cuffed him!" Robin pants loudly to try and catch his breath, his smile wide and proud while watching Batman walk over with the other two robbers. 

"I saw you. Good job, Robin, I'm proud of you for being brave tonight-" Batman (in his still bitter feelings of Tony and his crew making fun of his child) harshly tosses the two men to the floor next to CBM, nodding his head slightly in approval of their acting-"It seems you'll have their respect in no time if you show them your skills." Robin feels his heart flutter in excitement at the gloved hand ruffling his hair, his smile quickly disappearing when remembering what the man with the crowbar tried to do to Batman.

A loud slap echoes through the surprisingly quiet street, Robin glaring harshly at the now stunned man.

"Robin!"

The boy turns to look up at Batman with a pout on his lips, his gaze unapologetic as he holds the older man's gaze. "What?! I'm not gonna say sorry!"

Batman sighs softly and kneels down to Robin's level, "You...you can't hit the criminals after you've already caught them, understand? We can't abuse our power. And it's not right to hurt someone just because of what they say about you, actions speak louder than their words ever can."

Robin's eyebrows furrow in confusion as to what Bru-Batman means, it taking a second for him to truly remember the man's earlier insults before he looks angry again and turns to kick the bound man in his stomach, sniffling innocently at Batman's scolding tone. "I didn't slap him cause what he said to me...he...he could have hurt you, B. A-And you promised to have my back...so why should I not have yours? You're my dad, so-" he cuts himself off and shrinks under Batman's intense stare. He's messed this up for himself, didn't he? Bruce didn't almost call him son in the cave...Robin probably just imagined it and became too hopeful-vulnerable from the excitement and adrenaline, that he let it slip.

Batman blinks in shock behind his mask before pulling Robin into a hug, shooting a glare over at the three blind mice for their cooing at the cute scene before them.

"No! I mean, you're fine. I think-you-I..." Batman furrows his brows and pauses, taking a moment to breath steadily and gather his thoughts together, his gaze never leaving Robin's uncertain yet hopeful one. "You are my son. I never said anything because I didn't want you to think I was trying to replace your real father...so, don't worry about what you said. I think the same thing about you."

Robin feels himself slump in relief, wrapping Batman-his dad-in a strong hug and hiding his face in the man's neck.

CBM can't stay quiet anymore and loudly aww's at the sight, sniffling at seeing how soft the Bat can be. "I wish I had a dad like you growing up, maybe if I did I would be better off now? You're a lucky kid Robin...and just so you know, you give a mean slap, but I won't hold it against you. You're kind of a cute kid-" at Batman's deadly glare, he corrects himself-"I mean, you are definitely for sure a totally adorable kid."

Tony nods his head, "Yeah. I think your fiery temper has a charm ta it-" he tilts his head in curiosity-"Ya know how to break into cars? We could use a guard dog."

The other lackey elbows Tony for the question and starts apologizing to Batman, "I'm sorry for his behavior! He doesn't know what he's saying-" he elbows Tony harshly in the side again-"You can't ask a freaking kid to commit crimes, Tony-and no, I don't care that you did it when you were younger, we should have standards."

Tony huffs and settles back down, "But why not? B-man over there is allowing him to fight crime."

Robin frowns at their conversation and lifts his head up from Batman's neck, "I threatened to run away and fight crime myself! B didn't want me out tonight, but if he didn't I would have left." CBM's eyes water even more and he sniffles, "You mean to tell me that Batman didn't want to lose you to this world, so he allowed you to fight crime?" Robin tilts his head at the man and pouts, "I think he just doesn't trust me fully yet."

Tony sighs and shakes his head, "Trust is earned anyway. Even with criminals like us, Batman was right when he said that your actions speak louder than words ever could...though words are still nice too, ya know? You gotta back up what you say with actions, and even though you looked kind of scared tonight, ya didn't hesitate to defend the Bat." The man nods in approval and bumps into his men to get their attention, "Seems like B-man found a good partner after all guys."

Robin looks at the group of criminals curiously for their behavior, they aren't exactly what he was expecting. He thought that these men tonight were God awful, irredeemable individuals...but CBM just wants a dad and Tony got into crimes young, so who knows what brought them to this point?

The sound of police sirens causes Robin to hide under Batman's cape with a surprised yelp, he doesn't think he's quite ready to meet the people Batman has worked with for years now.

But luckily enough, Batman notices that too and makes sure to leave the three criminals where they can be seen by the police and slips away into the dark alleyway and to the Batmobile, setting Robin gently down into his seat and turning towards the boy with a small, proud smile when he settles into the driver's seat. "So how does ice cream sound?"

Robin smiles brightly and whoops in excitement, his legs kicking out excitedly as he starts chanting what flavor he's going to get.

XXX

It's a few weeks later and three criminals are playing a game of poker until their game is interrupted by an officer calling out their names. "Tony Esposito Bianchi, Marcus Hamilton and James Irwood! There's some letters for you three."

The three men look up in shock before scrambling towards the officer with grabby hands for the letters, it's rare that the three get any messages from outside, is it family? Marcus opens his first, licking his lips in excitement at the thought of who it could be, his brows furrowing at seeing childish handwriting. "Dear CBM (Crowbar Man), after lots of thought towards my actions during our fight, I'd like to apologize for kicking you in the stomach. Even though you were a jerk, I may have went overboard, and I don't regret slapping you for almost hurting Batman. However, I assumed the worst of you when it turns out you don't have a daddy to teach you goodness...sorry about my temper and-" he pauses to read the multiple crossed out words before settling on the correct one-"assumptions. I hope your stomach and face gets better, Robin."

Something...odd settles in Marcus's chest, something warm, touched and endeared by this odd little boy he made fun of. Though his attention is caught when noticing a little extra something scribbled onto the paper.

"P.S. If you ever need a dad, I think Batman has room for plenty here. P.P.S. dad helped me write this and says he's sorry for saying you were filth...whatever that's about! :)" Marcus looks up at Tony and James with a smile on his lips after reading the letter, the three silently conversing before coming to an agreement. 

"Robin is definitely for sure a totally adorable kid, guys. And we'll make sure Gotham filth never touches him."

(So...Robin adopted three new criminal brothers and most likely (definitely) reformed then just by being adorable, he's truly already a great hero! 😂

As it was implied with Robin writing the apology to them for Bruce, he didn't mean to say they were Gotham filth, the only reason Batman did is because he was mad they hurt his son's feelings XD. Much like Robin, he pondered his actions later and felt bad for saying that to them, because ultimately, he desires for everyone to have a chance at doing good and he just implied with his words they weren't anything (as far as he's concerned).

I was going to title this story as 'Robin's Firsts' and have it be a multi chapter story about each Robin's first night out on patrol as Robin. But...I obviously didn't make it multi chapters, however, if you guys want it that way or even just as a series...I can work on it! But as usual, be patient with my horrid schedule XD.

Also, I wrote Robin hitting Marcus (CBM) because I read everywhere that he was a feisty and angry little boy. So, I decided to add that bit somewhere by having him slap and kick the poor guy XD, and yes, Bruce will have a talk about how Robin needs to control that. I just want to focus on the cute stuff.

If anyone enjoyed this small, simple and silly little story, you are much appreciated! Kudos, bookmarks, comments, silent support and all the more is always appreciated! You all are the greatest, and if you love reading good dad Bruce Wayne as much as I do, well, I literally love you. 😂

You all remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[goddessofroyalty]

So- knowing that you arent hiding from spoilders. i kind of wanted to bring up viktors fate in the Zaun Family au.

Like, would silco and Vander know of viktors fate post councils attack? Would they see their son in the cocoon(girl idk the name).

What if when he leaves and makes the commune? What of Jayces disappearance for months?

Like, their son became an augmented arcane herald- *and then* became an eldritch being...like..that's alot. Vi, Jinx, the boys, that's their sibling. That's silcos and vanders first baby boy and he's turned into this -being-

And jayce sure isn't innocent as he's just as changed as Viktor is.

To start with I've always known that I would have to deviate Zaun Family from Season Two of Arcane because the chain of events that caused how Season One ended (ie Jinx blowing up the Council Chambers) wouldn't happen in this verse. The question was always just how much and how many B-plots I could continue to use.

I also did kind of bank on the "external threat" teased in Season One being a much bigger plot-point than it turned out to be. So... yeah gonna' have to figure that one out.

Zaun Family was designed to be a happy au (even if everyone's individual complexes are debatably worse) and what happens with Viktor this season does not fit within happy au territory. So I'm probably going to stick with my original plan that is a bit closer to League lore of Viktor augmenting himself in order to replace the organs that start failing from his disease (with the full Machine Herald fit being armour he creates on top of his argumentation because of... whatever that external threat ends up being).

Saying that I'm very happy to play with alternatives because this verse is more a premise with a bunch of branches shooting off than an actual set-in-stone story.

The first thing we need to actually consider is the very real possibility that Silco would be in the Council Chambers as well. Unless he's been kicked out and that's why Jinx is blowing up the place. But he could be right there to see the damage done to Viktor from the explosion.

And we know from Season One how desperate he can get when it comes to saving his child. So he's probably completely on-board Jayce's desperate attempt to save Viktor and is honestly probably breathing down Jayce's neck the whole time to hurry it up! (and quite possibly dragging Singed out of his cave all the way up there to Do Something To Help) Which means that when Viktor comes back different there is a level of responsibility (and guilt) that rests on his shoulders for it as well.

They probably don't pay Jayce's disappearance much mind. He's not their concern, and I think they do rest a bit of blame on him for whatever has happened to Viktor. So if he wants to fuck off in his shame, sure, he can go fuck off for all they care.

The appeals to Viktor's humanity / original self start a lot earlier. And this is the point where I probably need to have watched the season to get a feel myself for how much I think it's Viktor is being manipulated by the Hextech into doing what he's doing vs Viktor has been taken over by the Hextech. Because depending on that affects whether that would work before the whole other plot happens and Jayce showing back up or not. (Which is also kind of funny where Jayce goes through this whole nightmare adventure seeing how this path ends badly only to show back up to Viktor already deciding not to continue down it because in that alternative universe he didn't have two dads and four siblings grounding him in humanity)

On a slightly funnier note - Viktor is generally considered the "good" child of the five (because he has a high success rate when he does do illegal things to achieve his goals) but now he started a whole cult and his siblings are never ever going to let him down.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'COME ON EILEEN!, [PART TWO]

-GOTHAM!VICTOR ZSASZ X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Victor and reader have an...interesting day out.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!victor x female reader. This is a 4 part fic. AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is still in highschool). Victor and reader bantering. Victor falling in love too fast (subtly). Slowburn. Victor is confused. Soft Victor. Like, you're his world. You just don't know it. Set during season 1. Reader becoming more villainous by the minute.

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR,

♫ “Oh I swear, at this moment, you mean everything.” Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

When all your restraints were undone, you made it a point to refocus your breathing. Falcone had walked out the room ages ago after shaking your hand. The rest of your ropes were undone by Victor himself, who looked at you. He analyzed your every move. It almost reminded you of how Jim did that day.

Victor wasn't rough undoing them, which you were thankful for. He seemed aloof, like his mind was elsewhere. Careless. You didn't speak a word while he undid them.

You're still terrified. The man is pointing a gun at you, though he's not very alert. It seems to be some sort of precaution.

His eyes were unblinking as he took a mental note of every single detail on your facial appearance. The wrinkles, the scars, the birth-marks, everything he could see was analyzed.

Once he finished his short routine of observing you, he looked thoughtful. A few moments went by as his eyes were glued to your face. Then with a quick glance up, he finally spoke,

"Hi."

You blink at him. "...Hi."

It's awkwardly silent, and you finally stand up, stretching your legs. You feel your pockets for your phone.

You begin to panic when you can't find it.

You look toward Victor, and to your vague intrigue, he has your phone in his gloved hand that wasn't occupied with a pistol.

He's lazily scrolling. How the hell did he unlock it?

"Mr. Zsasz, um. Hi. Uh, can I have my phone?" You manage to squeak out. He pays you no mind. "...Victor."

He is still scrolling, and the invasion of privacy is a bit much for you.

"What's that? I wasn't listening." He mumbles, seemingly preoccupied. You attempt to hover your way behind him to get a glimpse at what he's doing on your phone, but each way you move, he turns effortlessly with the gun.

You sigh. "Give me the phone and I'll tell you were Maroni's men are." You try, but you sound small.

"Uh-huh." He nods, absentmindedly. "You're gonna tell me anyways." He just waves you off.

...He's right. You are gonna tell him anyways, unless you want to die a gruesome death.

Your stomach crunches when you realize you are going to go on a job with him. What, a stake-out? Your gonna first hand witness him murder a whole group of men with his little assassin army of hot women. Okay, cool. You huff. You don't even realize why you're presence is needed for this operation.

He seems to be waiting for you to tell him the information. He's in no hurry, lounging around the living room and sitting himself on the armrest of a couch. Can't he at least sit normally?!?!?!

You sit in silence for a few minutes, but your antsy. Your fighting with yourself, stalling for time. You hope a miracle happens and Jim Gordan magically crashes through the door to save you, but you know he won't.

Him continuing to browse through your phone makes you antsy. You have your parents numbers and addresses on there. He could be looking at photos of you and your friends- making mental notes of who to torture! You finally cave.

"The guy who works for Maroni is named Ricardo Ricci," You speak, and he perks his head up. "They all get together at this warehouse by the docks. It's on other biker gang territories, so they meet after hours. They never leave a trace of there presence. Perfect cover up."

He stares at you, before slowly nodding his head. He lowers the gun, and sloppily throws you the phone. You catch it, seeing Candy Crush opened. So that's what he was doing. You let out a soft, frustrated scoff.

He moves to stand up, and you furrow your brows. In a second, he's grabbing your hand. "Where are you-" You ask, but he cuts you off.

"We have a job to do. That's where we are going."

"Yeah, well, no shit. But they don't get together until night time-"

"...So?" He looks at you like your stupid. "Let's get a milkshake."

For a moment, you think this cannot be the same man Jim Gordon described as a sadistic homicidal maniac. Before you know it, you're getting pulled by your arm.

He was true to his word, he got a milkshake for himself. He offered to get you one too, but you refused.

You two sit on a rooftop above the docks. His legs dangle over the edge while he drinks. He set up a sniper rifle next to him.

The whole time, he's kept a gun pointed in your direction. You have your phone, but just your luck, it's on 1%. You think about texting someone, but by now you've realized it's futile. You assume that was his plan.

It's still daylight outside. You two have spoken not a single word to one another. Your still utterly confused as to why Falcone required you to come with him, instead of just making some other goons watch over you until the job was done.

The awkward silence simmers and the two of you watch the city. You find it in yourself to sit next to him, letting your legs dangle.

"Falcone's right, y'know." He finally drawls. "You don't know how special you are."

You look at him, and the gun pointed casually at you. You shrug.

"I'm just a highschooler."

"A highschooler who somehow knows everyone's secrets." He hums. You pause.

"Yeah. I guess. Everything everyone tells me is mostly bullshit, though."

"So...it's on a whim you're getting killers caught left and right?" He remarks, turning to meet your eye. It's the first time he's done so since your first conversation.

You stay silent at this.

"I didn't plan for any of this to happen." Whispering, you find yourself being oddly vulnerable. The gun pointed at you reminds you this could be the day you die. He watches you pout.

He stares at you for a long moment, as he slowly nods to himself. His look softens a little bit, before he breaks the brief moment of silence that just passed between the two of you.

"You're pretty damn lucky then."

He says, with an amused tone. You stare at him incredulously.

"Lucky? I've probably snitched on like, half of Gotham's underworld to Jim Gordon. I've got a gun pointed at me. It's a miracle I haven't been killed yet." You say, fidgeting.

"Exactly," he purses his lips. "...Nobodies managed to get you. That's what I like to call being damn lucky."

"Falcone got me." You remind him.

"...True." Victor states with a slight grin as he shrugs in agreement. Almost as if he's prideful in his boss. "But Falcone has been careful not to harm you, hasn't he?"

"There's a gun in your hand pointed at me. I'm sitting on top of a building with THE Victor Zsasz, about to dive head first alone into a shoot out. Which- by the way, is insane. I thought you'd bring some of your girlfriends with you." You sneer, referencing the zsaszettes.

This illicits a snicker out of him.

"Uh, first things first, those are called hench-women. Get it right," He jokes dryly, looking at you with a feigned duh expression. He raises the drink up to his mouth and takes a long sip of it. You roll your eyes.

"And second, I couldn't possibly bring any of my ladies. Not on a job like this. This is a two-person job at most. Easy peasy." He seems confident- you let out a humorless laugh.

"You do know I don't know how to shoot, right?" You stare at him bewildered.

He waves you off.

"It's really easy." He assures you, with a calm smirk and a hint of slow sarcasm in his voice. "You take this here-" He stands up, setting the gun pointed at you down. He makes his way to the sniper rifle set up next to the two of you, and he raises the gun up for you see.

"You aim it at what you wanna shoot..." He demonstrates by pointing the scope at a stop sign from afar. "And then you pull this little sucker here." He says, as he pulls the trigger. His accuracy is remarkable as he hits the stop-sign dead center, and a you hear the pang of the bullet hitting the metal surface.

You watch him, slack-jawed.

"You expect me to do that?"

"Nah...but I expect you to learn." He states, simply.

I look up at the sky, it's still daylight. "What, in a few hours? Are you crazy?"

"Oh come on, it's not that hard." He says, as he gestures to the gun he left next to you. "We'll start small. You can learn everything about this gun in under an hour. That's a .45 caliber pistol. It packs a punch and if I were you, I'd get a feel for it as soon as possible."

You look down at the gun. He's right. Oh, this is your last chance at survival. You're probably gonna die. "…Show me." I whisper, picking up the gun in your hand. It feels incredibly foreign, heavier than you thought it would be.

Victor looks at you with a slight raise of his eyebrows. He seems surprised at your sudden decision.

"Well...Ok." He replies, before deciding to put on the instructor hat.

"Here, first rule; Always keep your finger off the trigger unless you intend to shoot. The first thing you wanna do is make sure the chamber is clear, which means its got nothing loaded in it, kay?"

He demonstrates by pulling a pistol from his suit jacket you didn't even realize he had, then ejecting the magazine, racking the slide to throw out the bullet that had been chambered. He catches it in his fingers. He does it with such ease you scrunch your eyebrows.

"Yeah- okay, that's not happening." You mumble. "Just teach me how to shoot."

Victor looks at you, with a feigned look of disappointment. But he decides it's easier to agree.

"Alright, so, first thing you wanna do is stand with both feet on the ground and have this arm here extended out like this." He demonstrates the position, coming up behind you. You poorly imitate it.

"...Then you wanna bring your other arm here-" He shows you how to position your arm holding the gun. You feel the warmth of his gloved hands on your arms, and struggle to focus.

He's talking down to you like a child.

You breathe a shaky breath as he instructs you, you can smell him. Expensive cologne and gun powder.

"There." He says, and snaps back off of you instantly, as to not mess with your perfet position. "Go."

You press the trigger, and a bullet comes out. It's not smooth- the kickback nearly sends you flying, and Victor doesn't see you damn near fall on your ass. He's too busy paying attention to where the bullet manages to land.

Not dead center, but certainly close enough to where his sniper bullet was left on the stop sign.

He let's out a low and long wolf whistle, and a crooked smile blooms on his face. Before you know it, you're getting picked up from the ground by him. You assume even the sound of a gun being fired gets him pumped.

And...strangely enough, you feel it too. The adrenaline. It courses through you like a drug, and you give a loud giggle of excitement.

You jump up and down, closing your eyes like a kid in a candy store.

"Oh, hell yes!!!" You cheer for yourself, proud. You're fist pumping the air, hands thrown up as you jump.

When you look back at him with a thrilled smile, you finally notice.

He's looking at you like you're the only girl in the world.

You let your breathing settle down.

"Again?" You ask, hopeful. You can't explain it; but your grateful to be a good something. Something other than an informant.

He doesn't respond, but the smirk on his face is enough. He twirls his index finger in an "again," motion, agreeing with you, before the two of you reposition yourselves.

You two do this routine for what seems like hours, losing track of time. Eventually, you get the hang of it, absorbing the kickback with ease.

And somewhere along the way, you stop picturing a stop sign, and start picturing Jim Gordon.

The darkness of Gotham clouds over the two of you, and you vaguely remember how it looked that night, running from school.

Your arms are tired from holding the pistol. He even let you have a go at the sniper rifle, to which you failed miserably. Neither of you seemed to mind though, laughing it off.

You two now sit together in the hovering darkness, back to your original position, legs dangling over the edge of the building. He goes to sip his milkshake, realizing it's empty. Okay, so you maybe had a few sips when he wasn't paying attention. Is that an indirect kiss? You brush the thoughts out of your head.

You break the silence, that has now transformed into something more comfortable.

"...You think I could become an assassin?" You ask, under your breath. Your eyes have drifted to the city lights below.

Unbeknownst to you, Victor hasn't been able to take his eyes off you for hours. And now is no exception. He stares at you softly.

His silence is long. Long enough that you're certain your question struck a nerve. It's disconcerting.

"...You're young." Finally, he answers. The gun that was previously held to you is now long forgotten, stuffed into his holster. His voice is quiet, almost as if he's speaking to himself. "Maybe, maybe you could be. It's a good job."

Your eyes light up. It's the first time you feel seen. The first time someone has agreed with you, that you could do more. Jim never did that.

"Yeah?" You speak with a child-like wonder, thoughts racing.

He glances at you; you can't help but feel watched under his gaze. He nods, his face suddenly looking uncannily vulnerable and confused.

"Yeah." He responds quietly, before taking time to digest what he said.

[ray-jaykub]

Hi! I'm a new follower! @hagelpaimon recommended you for this specific request. If you're interested, I was wondering if you could write some Bayverse fluff for me.

F!Reader has a southern accent and even though it isn't thick, there are certain words she says that makes her sound like a country bumpkin. And her turtle S/O (lovingly, of course) teases her for it. You can make it for each turtle or just Donnie. And you can make it NSFW if you wanna. Whatever you think fits! Thank you and happy writing 🐢💙❤️💜🧡

Thought I would crawl out of my adult cave and answer an ask that spoke to me. And as a country bumpkin (hoot hoot, very, very south georgia), I can say this hits the mark. I'm gonna do a little of all the turtles and

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

Now, as someone who grew up around people who talked like me, I assumed I could hide it well. But that wasn't until I started sending audio messages back and forth with @moxfirefly did I realized how bad it was... Now I've never tried writing a southern accent, despite having one, so bear with me.

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

Leo:

- He finds it so endearing and sweet and just can't find it in his heart to make fun of you

- Like, the way you call his name? The twang makes him smile because that means time with you

- His brothers and him obviously don't get out and talk to people, so I can imagine they're probably a lil stumped on why you sound the way you do

- Luckily, Leo is an old western movie fan, so at least he knows Cowboys.... please be patient with him

- If you're shy about the way you talk, he won't acknowledge it, but over time, he hopes you two get comfortable enough that you'll express yourself more

- Seriously, can't get over when you call him or his brother's names. Like omg they just said "Dawnie" and the way you pronounce Manhattan?

Raphael:

- Why you sound like that??

- Definitely believes you're from some weird part of New York, or God forbid Jersey

- Won't and will not understand unless you play country music for him and go like "these are my people"

- makes you a country mix, even if you don't like country. He's trying! You can't deny him that

-He says it's to make you feel "closer to home" and honestly, it lowkey works when you're feeling home sick

- He sees a cowboy film??? Prepare for him to throw a cowboy hat on your noggin

-Save a horse ride a cowboy, yeah? (I'm cringing)

Donnie:

- LOVES IT, ADORES IT

- He's really big on dialect and accents, especially for someone he fancies

- Will ask you to say certain words at random times of the day, early mornings when you haven't woken up, late at night when you're sleepy

- When you're angry???

- He has to hold out on bringing the recorder. But he's taking in every word

- Just imagine yelling at him, and he's looking at you with big doe eyes because wow... when was a country accent kinda sexy??

- He has to say one of his favorite things is when you both are whispering, and he leans down to hear you better, woof 😮‍💨

- He needs a southern girl 😤 GIVE HIM A TASTE OF THE SOUTH

Mikey:

- Will tease you, mock you, repeat every word you say... with love of course

- just expect to hear his lil giggle after you've said something particularly southern

- If you're the type to say our phrases (colder than a witches tit, you call undies breeches, you make crazy comparisons) he will adopt them and look stupid doing it

- Just imagine Mikey, surfer dude, New Yorker, saying, "I reckon"

- Like baby... please hush

- lowkey the one that helped Raph make the country mix tape, added a few personal favorites (the fucking wal-mart yodeling kid, for some reason)

- Gets you boots, even if you don't wear them, and tries really hard to convince you to dress like Barbie in her cowgirl outfit

- Never a dull moment with this doofus

........Go Dawgs

[choochooboss]

Introducing your station master & Magma event host!

Since there's already a lot of passengers visiting this station and I haven't spared much time to get to know my fellow submas fans over Tumbrl yet, an introduction would be in place!

I'm Jun, nice to meet you! *offers a hand for for a shake* I am a devoted submas artist & a monthly Magma event host! I go by ChooChooBoss everywhere (Twitter/Bsky/Twitch/Ko-Fi)!

This will be a long post! I will write a short intro as well which you can just skim through but here is a more in depth view how I got into submas, my other interests and life in general, in case you'd wish to know more about your conductor on this silly train!

How did I get into submas in the first place?

PLA. I met this certain mysterious & cool fellow time traveler and got curious! After the cave scene I went to read his Wiki, found out about Emmet, and... yeah. The emotional impact blasted me right out of a miserable cycle I was going through back then and set my soul on fire!! A month later I set up my first art account on Twitter, and the rest is history. They've become my greatest source of strength and inspiration and I enjoy drawing them every single day!

I love both twins very much! I tend to vibe with Ingo a little more than Emmet, but I draw Emmet more. People say I remind of butler Ingo the most, hehe. I certainly don't mind because I'm a big fan of butlermas!! In fact I got into submas & started playing Pokémon Masters EX in April 2022, a week before butler Ingo banner rolled in, so they truly got a special place in my heart ahah! (pssst draw more butlermas for me pls pls pls-)

However I don't draw warden Ingo as much as I would like to. I still get pretty emotional over his fate ahah, I can't draw him without a single tear! This sweet & kind man leading a good life and being an inspiration to others has been torn from literally everything he had for seemingly no reason apart from his name, clothes and the muscle memory and even those are barely intact. It seems like a miracle he's still standing and breathing after put through everything judging by the wear and tear on his uniform and body. Despite all that he carries a positive attitude, assists everyone in need, and does his best to help people and pokémon understand each other, unconditionally... Oh, my face is wet again...

My other interests besides submas?

Monster Hunter! Zelda! Genshin Impact! Super Mario! Trine! Crash Team Racing! And many many more! My favourite genres are platformers, kart racers, and action games, with a side of rhythm games. I'm a big fan of co-op games! I also watch my sis play JRPGs!

Monster Hunter is the dearest to me out of all. I've been hunting for well over a decade starting from MHFU. The games have charmed me with their incredibly satisfying combat system, world building, creature design, great attention to detail, character customisation and the games being nearly fully co-op!!

Other things I do:

Pokémon is practically the only turn-based game I enjoy, mainly because of the characters and collection aspect. However!! I adore Pokémon Colosseum (the first pkmn game I ever played!) and it's double battle focus, so The Indigo Disc has been a delight after the long starvation for double battles, coming up with different combinations makes the battles much more fun to me!!... I sound like Emmet here do I ahahah! We also share the fact we are both left-handed!

Shuffle dancing, daily pull-ups, and expanding my ever growing VGM collection! I also enjoy traveling and taking photos to keep as a diary! I've played piano in a music school for 9 years, and I can also play kalimba. I've done casual boxing, gymnastics, horse riding and medieval swordfighting. I used to read comics/manga and watch movies and anime but nowadays I barely do that, I just rather use that time for drawing instead of just sitting and watching, unless I have company!

I share the apartment with my anxious brother and our two sweet female cats, Laku (11, stubborn and cuddly) and Kalevi (21, demanding and full of love) in a city center. My parents are both entrepreneurs and run a farm in the countryside & I have 4 siblings with me as the middle kid!

Where can you meet me?

I am a game artist by profession, with 4 yrs of studies and roughly 7 years of EXP in the field doing game art, UI design, character/prop design, in mobile games as well as PC titles, 2D and 3D. At the moment I am looking for work; I keep up the motivation and learn new skills by running my art accounts while looking for new opportunities.

I hail from the land of darkness, snow, salmiakki, metalheads and renownly reserved people, Finland! (UTC+2)

Despite having my roots here I am pretty much the opposite of a typical Finn in almost every sense ahah! I'm a small guy who's not afraid talking to strangers and laughs a lot. And I dislike coffee for the contrary, it's very popular amongst finns.

With the inspiration from submas I've finally stepped into the world of cosplay so you can usually meet this small and excitable Ingo in the biggest local conventions, Desucon and Tracon! Come say hi!

About my social battery:

I'm both social and socially anxious ahah! I love making new friends and talking to all sorts of people and writing comments, and gathering together with my mutuals to do cool stuff together! However my social battery is very small... I often struggle with my AD(H)D and anxiety issues, so my replies can be extremely slow. I'm easily overwhelmed when life gets busy and I deal with it by withdrawing to minimise the the stimuli and then sorting my stuff out one by one. This is a frustrating shortcoming, but I'm working hard to find a balance I can maintain without getting exhausted. Please be patient with me! If you don't hear from me in a while, please don't take it personally! In fact, it makes me really happy if you contact me, for any purpose!

Which pronouns do I go with?

I go by they/them! I am also aroace, so if I appear to show any sort of romantic interest, it's definitely not that. I love meeting new people and am quite interested in people in general so I'm excited to get to know you better, but the thing is... I have been confusing people on several occassions for saying things that could be taken as flirting. I am terribly sorry for that, that's just the way I show how I care!

I don't really identify myself by any specific gender either, but rather by my roles or interests (Magma host, submas fan, game artist etc.). Submas encouraged me to enjoy dressing formally even if I'm just sitting at home, because I love formal clothing in general and wearing them makes me feel confident and stand taller! I usually wear collar shirts and black or white slacks.

More about my AD(H)D:

I don't have an official diagnosis but deal with the same problems as AD(H)D people do; poor work memory, dissociation, hyperfocus (drawing and people), sleep deprivation, impulsiveness (juggling too many things and going with the wind), getting sensory/information overloads, and feeling like I don't fit in. I figured it out after I finished school & lost my job for that I am unable to handle big tasks without anyone giving me directions. It has taken a while but I've figured out things that help me manage my daily life as well as have a medication that mainly boosts my capability to get things started which is another great struggle ahah.

How do I manage to keep myself on track?

I use a Pomodoro timer to keep up a good flow and remember to take breaks! This is what I use the most:

I should set it up on my tablet as well. I think it's really cool to see how many hours I have actually put into drawing! Last year I clocked in well over 3k hours, ahaha!

How to catch me?

Right now I have great difficulty managing replies, but usually you can reach me by DMs! I check Discord and Twitter the most often! However I must ask you to respect my current DNI status. It means I am really overwhelmed so I wish nobody comes asking for my attention until it has been lifted, unless it's really necessary. I really love talking to you all but I also have to accept and deal with my own limits strictly like this or it won't work out.

What am I working on at the moment?

Besides the holiday set I have several short comics under works as well as one big comic (100+ pages!). That one is my personal greatest goal! I started working on it in June 2022 and I have currently 40+ pages sketched and 60+ thumbnailed.

I was afraid of starting any comic projects before submas, but the sheer excitement over them carried me over that personal wall ahah!

The story's beginning and end are looking good and somewhat functional but there's still a lot to work to do and holes to fill in the middle before I dare to start fleshing out the pages. I have little experience in writing or comic making so I hope you forgive if some things don't make sense or the dialogue is a little on the nose so to say ahah!

The story will be packed with action with the overall tone being on the darker side, but it sure won't be lacking in humor! The project's main goal is to make it a celebration of all things submas & to prove to myself I can handle a big scale project despite my shortcomings!

This train has reached the terminal!

Thank you for riding my silly submas train!! I adore reading all your tags and comments! They brighten up my day & fuel my passion even more!! I hope to bring many more fun things for you to look forward to!! See you again soon!

ALL ABOARD!!

[brother-genitivi]

DA2 Hawke + Companion Banters - Isabela

Hawke: What’s it like to sail on the ocean?

Isabela: It’s less about the ocean and more about the boat. The sea can be violent and hard to navigate, but a good boat will get you where you need to go. Until you sail into a storm.

Hawke: Ah.

-

Hawke: I was wondering if you could help me with something, Isabela.

Isabela: Oh? There’s not much I can do about that tension you carry. Unless-

Hawke: Unless you find a magical massaging mallet that won’t break my bones and beat it out of my shoulders?

Isabela: That’s exactly what I was going to say.

-

Hawke: I was actually going to ask if there’s anything you can do about seasickness. I can’t handle being on boats. Makes my stomach cave in on itself.

Isabela: Nothing I can do. Sorry!

Hawke: Shame. What about your crew members who got seasick?

Isabela: We’d throw them over the side.

Hawke: Oh.

Isabela: (laughs) Not really. All they needed was a bucket.

-

Isabela: You’re very ride or die, Hawke. I like that.

Hawke: You like that, or you like that?

Isabela: Oh, Hawke. Don’t you go falling for me now.

Hawke: Alas, my heart belongs to another. Beautiful, beautiful Kirkwall.

-

Hawke: You have beautiful features, Isabela. I’d love to paint you.

Isabela: Are you trying to get me in bed with you? Because it’s working.

Hawke: Oh, no. Just stating a fact.

Isabela: Case in point.

-

Hawke: You doing okay?

Isabela: I’m fine. And that’s only thanks to you. I still don’t know how to thank you. I mean, why would you even do that for me?

Hawke: You’re my friend.

Isabela: It’s that simple? I’m a backstabbing, thieving snake, Hawke. I lied to you. And you killed the Arishok for me!

Hawke: You’re my friend. Not a snake. My friend.

-

Isabela: Hm. I’ve figured you out, Hawke.

Hawke: Uh oh.

Isabela: You and Sebastian.

Hawke: Uh oh.

-

Hawke: You’re the only one who hasn’t brought up my mother yet.

Isabela: Yeah, well… I just figured you’d talk if you want to.

Hawke: Thank you.

-

Isabela: The Dwarf is in love with you, you know.

Hawke: Varric has a name, Isabela. And no, he isn’t.

Isabela: Sometimes I think you’re being coy on purpose, but I’ve realised you’re actually just… really blind.

Hawke: I can see just fine!

-

Isabela: So your brother is a Grey Warden and you’re the Champion of Kirkwall. Those are big titles.

Hawke: Yeah. I’m not sure whether to be proud of Carver or terrified.

Isabela: A bit of both is healthy. What about yourself?

Hawke: Less proud. Not terrified. Just ‘eh’. I feel that’s the general state of people living in Kirkwall.

Isabela: You can say that again.

-

Hawke: Things just get worse and worse. I'm so tired, Isabela. I'm just so tired.

Isabela: (Sigh) I'm going to miss our time together. But this shithole makes you want to leave and never come back.

Hawke: Sounds like you have an escape plan all figured out.

Isabela: Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind.

Hawke: Oh, it has. But…

Isabela: I know. You just can't stay away. You're the Champion of Kirkwall, but that doesn't mean you have to solve every problem in this city.

Hawke: Someone should.

more banter here

[tlbodine]

Overthinking: Ghost Beach

Ghost Beach, Goosebumps #22, is another one I missed entirely in my youth. There's a whole run of these for some reason and...you know what, I was going to make a joke like, "I don't know what I was doing in the summer of '94 but it clearly wasn't reading Goosebumps" except I DO know what I was doing in the summer of '94, come to think of it. THAT was the year my family first spent living off-grid and we dug the septic system by hand and put in a garden so every day I was out doing stuff and we weren't going into town all that much so...yeah, it actually does make sense that I wasn't reading as much that year. lol. That's funny to think about.

ANYWAY none of that is relevant. Let's talk about this book, huh?

First, the Plot:

Siblings Jerry and Terri Sadler are spending the summer with their elderly distant cousins in a New England beach, where they enjoy a number of very normal childhood hobbies such as pressing wildflowers, taking rubbings of tombstones, and collecting seashells. There's a spooky cave on the beach that they suspect may be haunted, for reasons. And there's three local kids they keep bumping into, who have the same last name! But it's ok, because there are a ton of Sadlers around here.

They eventually confirm about the haunted cave. The ghost, among other things, likes to murder dogs and render them down to skeletons instantly because he's a big meanie and dogs can always tell when you're a ghost.

After a few various interactions, Jerry and Terri find a graveyard that just so happens to have graves bearing the names of the local kids, but when they tell their cousins about it they hand-wave it off because Sadler is a common name around here and probably they were just named for ancestors, right? Sure. Also they explain that a whole slew of Sadlers came over from England in the 1600s but died in their first winter here. Cool.

Anyway, the neighbor kids convince them to trap the ghost in the cave by caving it in with rocks or something, which will definitely work? But then they go to enact this plan and find out there IS a dude in the cave, but he's NOT a ghost, he's just a....guy who lives in the cave, for reasons. But the OTHER kids are ghosts, oooOOOOoooo!

The kids drop the ruse and admit to being ghosts. Cave-hermit collapses the cave down on top of himself + the ghost kids, which seals them in I guess? And then the siblings run back to their cousins, who, in a twist surely no one saw coming, are also ghosts. SURPRISE.

Overthinking It:

In case you didn't guess from my summary, I really did not like this book. Like, I mentally checked out several times reading it because it is both boring and nonsensical. There are just so, so many holes.

How do ghosts work in this world? We interact with them all the time and they are solid and warm to the touch. Also presumably dressed in contemporary clothes, because otherwise we would've noticed they looked like pilgrims. But they can be trapped and sealed away by the rocks of a cave? I guess?

If all the Sadlers died during their first winter, why are there so many Sadlers still living here? Unless the point is that ALL of the Sadlers in the area are ghosts, in which case, why aren't Terri and Jerry?

Why is Harrison Sadler the beach hermit so deadset on trapping the ghosts, to the point of killing himself in a cave-in to do it?

The plot is thin, hardly anything happens, it feels like it's recycling most of its beats from Welcome to Dead House except slower and more boring, and I don't understand these kids at all. Terri's weird set of quirky hobbies feels kind of tacked-on, and I know absolutely nothing about Jerry, he's an absolute blank cardboard cut-out despite being the narrator. Like, Goosebumps books usually have kind of bland self-insert characters but this is completely ridiculous.

Also - I don't want to get in the habit of immediately saying, "I didn't like this book so obviously it was ghostwritten" but I think this might be another contender for that suspicion pile. Much like Why I'm Afraid of Bees, the prose in this one just...doesn't sound like Stine. It's largely missing his favorite phrases, his humor, and even just the cadence of his sentences and scene breaks. I can't really explain it without doing a full forensic breakdown of the whole book which I frankly cannot be arsed to do because it is so stupid and boring.

I do like the cover art, though, so there's that!

If You Liked This, THESE Will Really Give You Goosebumps:

Go read the superior ghost-based Goosebumps books Welcome to Dead House and The Ghost Next Door.

You may also enjoy the 2001 film The Others, and in a different sort of vein, John Carpenter's The Fog which is a very atmospheric beach horror.

[the-king-of-hell-66-6]

Heyy bitch!

This is an ask/rp blog where you can ask the King of Hell himself about anything in particular, especially about his relationship with Adam the first man.

And sometimes will have small rps including both our boys!

Rules:

A: No minors please. This blog can and will include NSFW questions and overall sex talk between our boys. I’m not exactly with full blown smut in this but just know that.

B: This account is owned by a real life human. Do not send asks asking: who will go to Hell, will a certain group go to Hell, what is the details of divine judgement, or any other questions regarding real life people and their afterlives. I personally am not comfortable.

C: All the artwork used for expressions on this account is made by @/rius-cave unless stated otherwise. Other artwork are credited if I know the creator, please do tell me who it is and if they're ok with reposts if you know them.

D: The answers can be mean. I want to stay in character as much as possible, so if you send him an ask that would make him angry at you, he will be. Don't take it as a personal attack.

E: I have my individual hcs about them here and there, Lucifer will answer accordingly to them.

F: I do not promise to answer the questions/continue any rb right away. Sometimes it can even wait for days.

I don’t have anything else lol

Other Stuff:

A: This is when Adam has fallen as a sinner and had started dating properly with Lucfer.

B: They match pfps lol

C: Okay, uh, there’s also this really cool blog named @ask-adamsapple66 made by @things-arent-what-they-seem66. Check it out if you want.

[ares-protector]

IT'S TIME, IT'S HAPPENED, SOMEONE ASKED ME TO INFO DUMP ON BATS! THANK YOU @wordescollect FOR ASKING ME FOR EVERYTHING I KNOW ON BATS!!! TOOK ME SOME WEEKS TO PREPARE BUT IT'S HAPPENING!

I divided it into 3 parts, and I will post the other parts later this week.

Bats belong to the order Chiroptera which is the second largest family of mammals. Chiroptera has over 1,400 species of bats, making up approximately 25% of all mammals. Bats are also the only mammals able to achieve true flight.  The largest Order of mammals is the rodent family, Rodentia, with over 4,500 species.  Chiroptera means hand wing.  Chiro=hand  Ptera=wing  Which is a fitting name because bat wings are evolved hands.

Bats legs also evolved, the bones evolved to smaller to make the bats lighter.  Unfortunately, now they have difficulties standing or using their legs for anything because their legs can't handle the compression.  Their legs are also backwards to ours.  Their knees bend the opposite way and the bottoms of their feet face the front of their body.  It is because that orientation makes it easier to crawl on the ground and hang upside-down.

Side rant related to The Underland Chronicles: That single fact had made it incredibly hard for me to imagine how the fliers stand in the Underland. Like, their feet would point backwards when they are standing. Could they stand like that? Did Underland bats evolve differently from Overland bats so their feet do face forward but their legs are still weaker, smaller, and have knees that bend the opposite way? When Ares and Gregor have their first fight, is Ares twisting his feet around to pin Gregor down, or is he holding him like we would hold someone's shirt to lift them off the ground and pinning Gregor to the cave wall? Do backwards feet make it easier for Ares and the other few large fliers to lift gnawers off the ground? So many questions, but I think I'm just overcomplicating it for myself. I've been thinking about this for the past few years.

Anyways, this evolution of their legs makes it hard for them to take off from the ground.  Most birds need to run briefly to take off because it generates the lift they need.  But because bats can't run, it makes it hard to generate lift.  That is why bats need to fall slightly in order to fly, and why they hang upside-down.  Bats can take off from the ground with difficulty, but falling is still preferable. I saw a video of a flying fox(I think) taking off from the ground. They just flapped their wings, dragging itself along the ground doing so, and took off. It was on smooth tile floors though, so I doubt the same method would be as easy in the wild.

Their legs also have a mechanism that makes hanging upside-down easy. They have specialized tendons that make hanging upside-down use zero energy when they are relaxed by locking their claws in place. Some bats also have a structure called a Calcar, a cartilaginous structure that extends from the ankle. It helps support the membrane that stretches between the legs, also known as the Uropatagium. Not all bats have a fully developed Uropatagium, some species lack them while others have some membrane flaps supported by Calcar. Some species use Uropatagium to catch insects.

Part 2 is going to be about everything that bats eat and why that makes them so incredibly important.

Sources: My brain, Bat Conservation International, La Trobe University

Bat taking off from the ground: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DCpwIj1TWXN/?igsh=ODU1ZDNld3ptNWc4 (Dude narrating the video is just so dumb, don't listen to anything he says. There is some truth, but it's worded horribly and doesn't line up with the video.)

Call me out if any information I have said is wrong, I am still a college student and am learning. Besides that I am human and may remember things wrongly, please correct me so I don't spread misinformation.

As always, DON'T touch a bat with your bare hands, unless rabies are vaccinated, trained, and have gloves on. If the bat bites you, it will be euthanized and tested for rabies, nobody wants that. If you find a stranded bat that seems injured or such, then call your nearest wildlife rehabilitation center, Bat Con International, Bat World Sanctuary, PA Bat Rescue, or Lubee Bat Conservatory. If you live somewhere other than the US, then I believe you can call Bat Con International or a wildlife rehabilitation center near you. The only Bat Rehab Centers I know of outside of the US is Fledermaushilfe Hamburg in Germany and there are ones in Australia. But, I'm sure you could call any of the places I've mentioned and they would gladly help wherever you live. They will direct you in what to do or will send someone to help the bat.

[mutt3y3]

I decided to draw one of the skeletons in the fic I'm working on. It's based off of another fic but some of the themes are just- it's really fuckin dark man... I'm trying to adjust the story in my head to still be like, angsty and dark but not too dark at the same time. I really wanna write out a fic I won't feel scared to post under my Ao3 account :(

(Tho I still might post the fic under Annon just because I'm an social anxiety ridden mess)

Besides my forever woes and complaints, here's uhh... DB (Destroyer Blue). Name pending...

Instead of using like, just strings. He can produce large barbed wired vines. His way of destruction it setting down roots and then pulling them up to also tear apart the ground above. So if he's destroying an underground AU then like- you better be praying on your hands and knees that some outcode comes along to yoink you out of there because this sucker is causing a cave in.

Surface words are more so just normal root pulling. He'll try to attach the ends of the barbed wire vines to like, large buildings or land masses so then he can use those to increase the damage done when he starts dragging his vines.

I got this whole idea of him being like- called an angel of death/destruction. And people call him this because the barbed marking on his face expands and spins around his skull like a sideways halo (Only when he's using a large amount of magic) and his vines sprout from his back like crude plant wings.

Also, just notes about his personality n'shtuff:

- Very apathetic.

He only really cares about Dusk/Apathy(His Dream), Splatter name pending...(His Ink), and His Cross (Doesn't have a name yet). Example of this is uh. Say he was brought to a meeting with Dusk and Splatter. He's spending all of that meeting on his phone, or even just clocking out midway to go destroy an AU for the sole reason of 'I dunno, just felt like it.' Dude does not care what anyone has to say unless it's from those four. So most of his info he gets from the others.

- He has a bit of a vengeful spark to him.

DB has that quiet anger. You don't know that he's angry until it's too late. He may be very apathetic but it's really easy to slip up around him and find yourself without an AU to go back home to. So important Note: don't try to pull shit with DB if you still got connections to an AU.

- He likes Vocaloid music

Whenever he wants to block out the world, or when he's destroying AUs, DB plays Vocaloid music. Dude likes his silly little bo-bot singers man. Miku for life!!! So ya, when he's tearing apart an AU he could literally have fuckin Magical Cure!Love❤Shot! being blasted into his skull. The Miku Miku beam becomes reality.

So ya. Hope to make more shtuff of this dude as he's pretty cool.