#(( While I have to use a gas mask to even be in here. ))

[silkenwinger]

natural predator

ghost x reader, shifter x shifter. strangers to friends to lovers with a little push. based on this and this. MDNI. cw: stalking, implied manipulation, scent kink, mating cycles/in heat, the slightest dubious consent, biting, implied knotting (it's still rather vanilla). dividers by @/strangergraphics

There are many ways to pass the time. 

You can walk around the block once, twice, until the winter frostiness gives out. Clean your one room apartment from top to bottom, taking care in picking soft scents not to overwhelm your nose. Enter the same shop every Wednesday, never buying anything because it is expensive. It’s a way of living. Perhaps not the best. You wouldn’t know any other, now.

It wasn’t always like this. You used to have parents and friends. Shared dinners. Warm faces by your neck and vice versa. It was scary, seeing it all change. And not being able to do anything about it but flee, thinking it’d be fine somewhere else. A space for your kind doesn’t exist anywhere. You make one by picking a corner and sitting there. And you’re fine here. These past months have gone by smoothly, if a little lifeless.

The one light from the canopy outside keeps flickering beat by beat through the glass doors as you check the register.

“Real issue, that one,” says your manager, Joe. Joe is nice. He lets you do as you please as long as you do the bare minimum. It’s just the two of you, most evening and night shifts in this gas station, and he takes frequent naps he calls resting his eyes.

“When did the repair man say he’d come?”

“Between tomorrow and Friday.” It’s Monday. “I swear my eyes are about to pop open. It’s always just behind them.” He says, making a gesture towards his head.

You close the register. The shop’s jingle plays while you bend over to fix the leg of your pants. When you rise to your full height again, you see him.

Imposing. Dressed in black. Silent and overbearing. He’s wearing the usual surgical black mask, and a cap. Outside, he wears the sweatshirt’s hood on the latter, but he has the sense to take it off inside.

“Good evening,” says Joe, throwing the man a suspicious look. Joe is wary of anyone he can’t get a full report of age and provenience out of, not to mention someone who doesn’t entertain his small talk. Bar you, since you’re a great listener.

The man doesn’t answer. Just lingers on the “sports and health” section for a minute, before grabbing a powdered protein bottle and taking it straight to the counter. You grab it without even looking at him in the eye. Scanning it, you chance a look. His black eyes are focused on your hands, a scar runs on his temple, jagged. His hair looks almost white in the cold, artificial light, his hands in the sweatshirt’s pocket. His eyes leave your hands and meet yours. A sensation crawls on top of you: the need to run. You ignore it and unlock your elbows. Prey instinct isn’t well received in human society.

There’s no nicer way of saying he has a smell. It’s not unpleasant, not at all. But it’s not quite a scent you can name either. Not vanilla, nor a spicy breeze. Not even a heavy musk. It’s just… odd.

You drop the bottle on the counter and tell him his total. He pays cash. Always. His nails brush against your palm as he drops it in your hand, and your breath is quivering. You snatch off your hand in a rush. In the corner of your eye, you can see Joe glaring at the both of you. He must be thinking you’re loony. You more than him, since you’re neglecting basic customer service pleasantries. 

He leaves. Your shoulders relax. But you can still smell him all around. 

You take a walk to the storage room. 

—

You skip around, the limited space hindering your jumps. In the distance cars speed and drive away, the sound muted by the rustling of foliage around your legs. The full moon shows your way through the arms of the trees, silver rays making a stone path on the green high grass. Your ear tickles to the left when you hear a sound, some sort of raspy screeching that has you raise your head. Unsettled, you turn back from where you came from, the meat in your thighs turning sour.

Joe is still asleep, his shiny head falling over his chest. When he wakes and sees you sitting at the counter, he makes an off comment about your hair being messy, voice still slurred by sleep. You fix yourself through the metal reflection on the fridges’ handles and clean the dirt from your nose.

—

Two teenage girls keep shoving their phones in your face. So far from their conversation and monologue towards you, it seems they’re on the lookout for something they call a “dupe”— a lipstick or something. You tell them all the makeout you hold is by the register, on their left. Their expressions clearly show their dissatisfaction with the selection, hands slapping to their sides when they let go of something. 

“Girls! We have to go!” Yells the children’s mother from near the exit, and the twins huff in perfect synchrony. They give the makeout shelf a final disparaging look and exit the store, not minding you one bit. You finish stacking up the bandaids, the sunset outside flooding the enclosed space in orange. You go back to the register when you hear someone entering, so used to the shop’s jingle it’s not annoying anymore.

When the hooded man comes to stand before you, you don’t even think twice. There’s something weird in the air, and he hasn’t come in two days. Maybe he was busy. But the eyes and face you find aren’t of the blonde man, and the fabric covering his mouth isn’t that of a surgical mask. The startling blue colour of his irises freezes your mind. The barrel of a gun is pointed straight at you, an extension of the man’s long arm. 

The first instinct is always to run. But you find yourself stuck to the place, the thump of your heart resounding in your ears. The man is yelling at you, demanding you to open the register, the glossy finishing of the weapon almost blinding. Your right hand twitches, flexes. You’re sure he’s going to shoot you in the head. The muzzle of the gun is moving side to side, diagonally, shifting lightly enough that it would be almost imperceptible to less acute eyes. The man is shaking. The scent is that of fear.

He shifts as if hit by a train. An unstoppable force. The robber falls to the ground, his body making a loud thunk, the gun dropping from his hold. The spell broken, you lean over the counter, your sweaty hands holding the edge of it. On the ground, the man is on his belly, a bigger body over him. You recognize the cold shine of blond hair.

The police come after you finally call them. You think the blond man might have knocked the robber out, because he’s still prone on the ground while he sits on his legs. He hasn’t said a word to you. Just sent you a glare that said call the cops. While the police take the man away, you call Joe and tell him everything, still looking at the mystery man through the glass doors. Joe says you can close the shop, his voice worried. 

You find him still smoking outside. Shifting on your feet, you take his appearance in more carefully. The scent is less intense now, covered by the smoke and dispersed in the open air. The only lights are that of the canopy and the lit cigarette. He’s regarding it as if it’s an ancient book worth revering, the stick looking dwarfed in between his fingers. Tapping your heels, you tuck your nose inside the neck of your coat.

“Thank you,” you let out.

He looks at you like you’ve told him to go jump off a bridge. The blood in your vein chills. 

“Common where you’re from?” He asks, his voice even more rough than you’ve expected. You swallow and take a step back. 

“Excuse me?”

He makes a vague gesture towards the station, the woods behind. You follow his hand with your eyes and tilt your head to the right, confused.

“Putting your smell all over. Calling everyone to come here.” He then takes a long look, up and down your body, that makes you want to crawl back inside your skin. “Don’t look like the type to enjoy the attention.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, offended, but don’t move from where you’re standing. He is smelling you, as well? That can’t mean… His expression is annoyed, like he’s had this conversation with you a hundred times and more. Your nose twitches. He doesn’t reply to you, choosing instead to put out the cigarette on the ground and walk back to his car. You’re left, speechless, looking at his back.

—

It’s your free day. You can do everything you want during your free day.

You go running, of course. Choose a little spot off the running track, a clearing with tall grass. You take a few bites, but you’re never really satisfied when you eat in this form. It’s only instinct that makes you do so. 

All of the sudden, the air changes. The needles on your back multiply, as do your look backs. At some point, you’re certain you’re being stared at. Your hind legs kick, the jump propelling you inside the trees, and you disappear among the foliage.

—

“You should use this.” 

A green container is dropped in front of you on the counter. It’s not something you sell in the shop. You look up to the blond man with a dubious face.

“To hide your scent.” He says nonchalantly. You scrunch your face and ignore the unasked gift. You get to the heart of it.

“What’s your name?”

“Simon,” he answers flatly, while his eyes shift to look at the blue plate on your chest. “That your real one?” He says pointing to it with a long finger.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“These,” you say, taking the container in your hand. It’s full of white, small pills, “work… for our kind?”

“Yeah. More for territory issues than anything else.”

“But you still smell.” You shake the bottle in front of him. From above the mask, one of his eyebrows shifts.

“Better than nothing.” His tone is ironic. Ugh, no one wants to be told they reek all the time. You pout, but pocket the pills. His eyebrow is still quirked.

“Just like that?” He says, surprised.

“Uh? You told me to take them.”

“You don’t know me.”

You roll your eyes. You can’t read him at all, but you suppose he’s made you a pet case of his, a new shifter who needs help in his turf. So why preach stranger danger now?

“You already saved me once.” You lower your eyes. “Does that mean there’s a lot of us here, in this city?” You try to keep your tone neutral, but you fear it sounds more hopeful than it ought to be.

He looks uncomfortable now. Like a mother who promised her son a new toy and can’t buy it for Christmas.

“I know a couple of people,” he scratches the back of his neck. “John Price, good man. Big.” He pauses. “I’ll give you my phone number. If anyone else but him pops up here, or at your house, you call me.”

That’s when Joe makes his entrance. His face tells you that he’s not thrilled you two are having this conversation. 

“Everything alright here?” He asks you as he spreads his hands on the counter, and you realize he’s worried Simon’s bothering you. His figure, small and round, pales against the solidity of the taller man’s body, but he holds his head high. And Simon, maybe now conscious of how he’s coming across, shrinks.

“Yes, don’t worry,” you smile shyly to Joe, happy he’s worried about you. But Simon is not necessarily bothering you. You enjoy having someone to talk to about that. Someone who is just like you.

—

He offers to take you home when your car won’t start one rainy night. You tell him you can wait for the tow truck beneath the canopy but he’s unremovable. You don’t question why he was waiting for you to finish your shift. In his car, you just keep your hands in between your thighs, the warmth of the heater thawing your toes. He fiddles with the radio, big fingers turning the dial, the slightest amount of light hair on them. His face is neutral, but you wouldn’t call it relaxed.

“You've been taking them? The suppressants,” he adds, while he turns for what seems the tenth time.

“Yes. Does it not seem so?” You ask, now self conscious.

He doesn’t answer your question. A bit put off by his lack of politeness, you cross your arms and look outside of the car window, limiting your indications to one word replies. He doesn’t seem to need them anyway. When he stops at your house, you put a hand on the door handle and look at him. Something is missing.

“... Do you want to come upstairs?” You ask, voice trembling less than you’d expect from yourself. Again, he doesn’t answer. He just exits the car, long limbs getting out the seat and into the drizzle. You scramble to get out as well. He feels even bigger at your shoulders as you guide him up the stairs. When you enter your apartment, you’re embarrassed by the state you left it in that morning. Simon doesn’t seem to mind, still looking around the space like it might reveal some great conspiracy. Then, he lifts his gaze at you, implicit question in his brown eyes. You look down, biting your lower lip in anxiety.

“This is all I could find on my budget,” you try to justify your living situation, like he’s owed an explanation. He shakes his head.

“It’s nice,” he says, maybe not completely genuinely. But you’re so surprised by a compliment coming from him you almost stutter.

“Please sit,” you say, gesturing to the small table. You make tea in your electric kettle, feeling his eyes behind you all the time. Uncomfortable with his staring and the silence, you try to make small talk, the way Joe has taught you makes customers feel at ease.

“Does it always rain so much here?” You ask, while bringing the mugs to the table. Simon grabs his by the main part instead of the handle, uncaring of the heat. Probably just to do something. He looks huge at your table, the size of the apartment not matching the size of his body.

“Yes. The whole region is rainy.”

“Alright.” You fiddle with the teabag in your cup by its string. Unprompted, you attempt to find the answer to something you’ve suspected for a while.

“Have you been watching me while I’m changed?” You ask, the words flowing out of your mouth like a river in full. He doesn’t answer at first, his whole figure completely still, and you think he’s going to start yelling at you. Maybe you’ve offended him greatly, and the way his kind goes about it, he’ll tear your throat apart. But you don’t even know what kind he is, really. Then, his lips part.

“Just keeping an eye on you,” he says, looking you in the eye, the warm light of the ceiling fan casting shadows on his face. His voice is earnest, and honest, and you want to ask a thousand questions but you think you might already know the answer to some. You tilt your head to the left.

“Worried I’ll commit a crime?” You joke, remembering the way he subdued the robber.

“Worried about others, more like.” He answers flatly, and a flame stokes in the center of your chest. 

“Come say hi next time,” you whisper, the blood in your cheeks scorching hot.

He really does scowl at that, as if he’s tasted something rotten.

“Don’t think that’s wise, pet.”

—

He digs a place for himself in your life and sits there quietly. Always in the vicinity.

The days he comes to the station are more than the ones he does not. He buys mundane stuff, necessities he could easily get when he gets groceries, and starts even getting his gas from you. Requests your service specifically. Joe only looks at you with knowing eyes nowadays, and you’re victim to an unstoppable rush of implicating jokes once you leave Simon.

“You’re the only client I’ve gotten the whole month for gas, you know,” you tell him while he sits in the car, the window lowered. His face is even harder to read with sunglasses on.

“Pity. I find myself well serviced,” he says, and your hackles rise at the friendly, even flirting tone of his. You smile to yourself as you pump the gas, tapping your nails on the black varnished trunk.

With the gas in his tank, he drives you around. Actually, he helps you buy a new table. He says the other one makes his back hurt, so you pick a taller version and he pays. He sticks to your side even when the majority of your time together is spent in silence, or with you recounting your shift at work. He points to you clearings nearby you can shift in more covertly, big places where hunting is always forbidden. The itch to know more about him is always at the back of your throat, but you never ask Simon anything that would stab in too deep.

You meet John Price. He’s been itching to see you, Simon says– and they’re ex coworkers, too, so Simon trusts him implicitly. The moment you see him, you think he must be a bear, his long moustache, the slope of his brow bone. He tells you as much himself, freely, after taking a big sip of his beer.

“You’re a deer, right lassie?” You nod demure at the question. “Only ruminant of the area. Can’t say the green spaces are ample, but,” he smiles, eyes crinkling, “it’s a quiet city thanks to us.” He shoves at Simon’s chest, the latter staying still. The shadow of a smile plays on Simon’s mouth.

It’s not like you don’t know there can be animosity between shifters. You remember there being scuffles back home too– but it’s just little old you here. You doubt anyone would even notice you. When you say as much, the look you receive from the two men is focused and sharp, and it tells you all you need to know. No more of that talk.

You start smelling the others in some parts of the city, and immediately draw back when it happens. When you tell Simon as much, that you’re being careful after his and John’s advice, he smiles a full smile, his canines sharply white, his hand coming to pat your head.

In this idyllic moment of your life, when things aren’t just fine but great– a small sense of community again, a stable good job, and a budding link–

Your heat comes.

It’s not your first. Back then, you had your options. Taking care of each other was the norm. But lately, as stressed as you’ve been, you’d forgotten that this, too, is part of your nature. And you didn’t prepare accurately– including having some relief the days before the actual heat comes. Before you pass out, you have the sense to call sick at work. After that your finger hovers on Simon’s name, but you abandon the idea. He can’t always come to help you.

Hazily, you think back on the pills Simon gave to you. You ran out some weeks ago, but didn’t think about asking for more. After all, you’d lived for long without, and he couldn’t even tell the difference himself, as shown by his silence on the matter. Maybe he grew too dulled to your smell. 

Maybe he knew that they were finished. Maybe he did it on purpose.

You cough. The slick between your legs doesn’t have time to cool down before a new fresh wave comes, and you curse your animal side as you writhe on the bed. Through the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, you hear your door opening. Panicking, your eyes cross to watch the entrance, the tall, dark figure making its way inside with familiarity.

“Simon,” you pant, “what are you doing here?” You ask, voice rough, when you recognize him. How did he even open the door? You try to stand on your elbows, but fall back over your face in the pillow. You hear his footsteps coming closer and closer to you. He sits on your bed, hand coming to pet your hair, and you muffle a groan, fabric between your teeth.

“Y-you need to leave. I’m not well–”

“Shh,” he just says, still petting your hair. When you raise your head again and turn to look at him, he’s looking at you curiously. You swallow your saliva and try to keep your eyes straight, but it’s growing incredibly harder.

“Why didn’t you call me? I had to ask around…” He says, voice quiet and reproaching. You lean your head into his palm, hands covering your face.

“Didn’t want to bother you…” you whisper, eyes peeking from behind your fingers. “Did you bring the pills?”

He doesn't answer your question. When you’re about to ask again, you feel his body move, his chest coming to press against your back. His arm stirs, makes contact with his head, which then moves. You hear an inhale, his big chest rumbling.

Is… Is he smelling you?

“Simon… I’m really unwell, but I’ll be alright, so you can-” Your voice trembles, but you get interrupted. The tone of his voice is harsh enough to make you cry.

“No. I’m staying here. I know how to handle this,” he says, decisively, but his eyes soften when he sees your scared expression.

“Hey. It’s alright. You know me, right? And I know you. This is just what happens to our kind. I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, hand holding your neck and face buried in your hair. 

And just like that, you surrender. 

He takes off your clothes calmly, with clear intent, lays them orderly on your chair when he’s done with each part. The moan that comes out of you when he takes off your pajama pants is almost vulgar. Before you turn your head in embarrassment, you see a flash of something else but determination in his eyes. An hunger, even.

“Come. All fours,” he orders, and you follow his words blindly. You’re in no state to oppose him truly, and anyway, this is what your body wants. And the mind is not far to follow. He guides you, rough hands on your waist and hips, and positions you the way he wants.

“Look at that,” he remarks, once he has the full view of your aroused cunt in his face. You mutter an offended remark in your elbow that turns into a yelp when he starts spreading your lips, examining you to his heart’s content. One of his fingers comes to brush at the edges of your hole, bringing some of the wetness lower, on your clit.

“Built for it,” he hisses, fiddling with it, your hips grinding against his finger with their own mind, chasing that limb numbing feeling. Once your moans are getting high enough for his judgment, he adds two fingers into your pussy, his reach far better than any you could have by yourself. You move in tandem, a wave of power that starts from him and crashes into you. He starts curling his fingers into you, his palm still grinding against your clit, that’s the moment you let go. You come with a muffled scream into the pillow, your back arched, your pussy trying desperately to milk his fingers. You fall prone, momentarily exhausted, and catch your breath for about ten seconds when you feel Simon’s arms encompassing your waist. 

“Up. C’mon now,” he says, and you let yourself be manhandled. His arm brushes against your stomach. Has… has his arm hair always been so long?

You hear rustling and movement behind you, but you’re still in the aftershocks of your orgasm that you just keep your eyes shut and enjoy the closeness with Simon. When your thigh comes into contact with something, though, your eyes open wide. You try to turn your head to look at his body, but he won’t let you, he just keeps your head firmly into the pillow. At least he shifts it a bit so that you can breathe with your mouth.

“Just enjoy this,” he says, a bit peeved, but with an undertone of shame. What could he possibly be ashamed of, when he’s helped you so much? 

“Thank you, Simon,” you let out breathlessly, and he groans, the sound reverberating through your whole body. The blunt head of his cock breaches inside, finds a clear way from your previous orgasm and the hormones. He starts fucking you with with a punishing rhythm, the snap of his abs against your ass resounding in the room, your slick rendering his shoves almost liquid. Whenever you try to shift a bit you’re hurriedly moved back against him, no chance of moving somewhere else. His mouth moves against your ear, muttering something intelligible, more groan than speech. More animal than human. The sounds, the smell of Simon, the warm air, it’s all getting to your head, filling it with foam. When you start moving back against him, a second climax descending upon you, his thrusts become more sloppy, and you feel his legs tensing, shifting in preparation.

“Take it all now,” he grunts out, and you feel a rush of heat by your entrance, and– and– 

With a snarl, long teeth bite into the meat of your shoulder, breaking skin. You moan in pain and pleasure both, the heading sensation going straight to your pussy, a trickle of blood running down your flushed breasts and on the mattress. You feel twitching and an unmistakable wet sensation inside you, and the feeling is so overwhelming you try to twitch away from his imposing body but find yourself stuck to him. Simon retracts his maw from your shoulder and licks the wound he caused with long, careful swipes, an apology of his own. Once he’s satisfied with his care, his tongue licks the salty residues of your tears on your cheeks, leaving a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he whispers huskily, just as you pass out.

When you wake up again, to the warm and damp touch of a towel, you whimper in pain. The movement stops then, and you open your eyes to Simon pondering what to do next, his hands on his hips. You cough out a laugh at the sight in front of you. When he sees you are awake, Simon’s mouth quirks down in mock scorn, but you read the implicit laugh behind his lips. He bandages your wound and you fall asleep again, worn out by your vulnerable state.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a wolf?” You break the silence later, leaning on your good side while he spoons you from behind. His sharp nails brush against the skin of your stomach.

“You never asked.” He says, almost bored, but it’s a farce, and you both know it. You roll your eyes, grateful he can’t see you. There’s probably an ancient taboo regarding shifters of different species being together, but then again, you hold the very human belief that you can do what you want as long as it doesn’t harm anyone else.

After all, being in the middle between animals and humans means you always have two ways to approach things.

taglist: @rafaelacallinybbay

[aster-the-floof-dragon]

Tips and Advice for Protestors (with bonus for those who can't make it)

In light of reports of a planned mass protest across all 50 US states, I decided to help in whatever way I can. As much as I wish to participate, my circumstances prevent me from doing so. Thus, I’ve settled on gathering crucial information to know if you plan on participating in the upcoming protest.

To preface; if you are in a situation that prevents your from going out, know that it does not mean that you do not care or that you’re somehow “lesser.” It is okay if you can’t go for whatever reason, you don’t need to justify yourself. I’ll leave some tips and alternatives towards the end if you still want to help.

Now if you’re planning on participating, here’s some critical information to keep in mind:

1. Never go to a protest alone

While you could, it is not advisable to be by yourself. Bring a friend and stick together at all times. If things get hectic (and hopefully it should never get to that point), you can help each other.

2. Protect your identity

Cover your face with a mask and sunglasses, hide any identifiable marks on your body (tattoos, scars, moles, etc). NEVER take photos of yourself at the protest. As tempting as it is to roll up in a cool fit, it could make it easy to apprehend you (even if you’ve done nothing wrong). Instead, wear plain clothing with no unique symbols. Avoid wearing jewelry, leave them at home.

3. Plan Ahead

Make sure to bring plastic water bottles, necessary medicines, and physical cash. While is best practice to avoid bringing any electronic communication devices (phones, smart watches, etc.), but if for whatever reason you need them. Either turn them completely off or use airplane mode. Get a paper or offline digital map of the local area, find where the rally is taking place, and identify the routes to get out quick.

Identify your trusted emergency contact(s). Tell them where you are going, how you are getting there, where the emergency meetup spot is, and when will you be coming back.

If you need contact lenses, avoid wearing them. Opt for glasses instead. Tear gas and contact lenses do NOT mix. No glass containers, they make you a prime target for police. Do not wear anything that can obstruct your hearing (headphones, earbuds, ear plugs) HOWEVER, protective ear equipment can help should authorities use a sound canon. Do not bring illegal or other controlled substances (alcohol, marijuana, etc.) whether legal or not, if police detain you it will make things worse for you.

Other helpful items include liquid anti-acid for tear gas, shatter-proof goggles, extra face masks, towelettes, thick latex gloves (preferably from paint stores), and battery packs. If you’re able to, do try to carry extra water bottles. In a pinch they help with tear gas. Wetting down masks with water helps with tear gas while you get away from the area.

Wear comfortable shoes. Avoid flip flops and sandals.

Have the information of a lawyer written on your arm.

4. Getting there

Don’t park nearby. Give yourself some space to keep your vehicle secure. Or if you are able, use public transit instead. Ideally, travel with your friend(s).

5. While Protesting

Ensure that you are always aware of your surroundings. If you see or feel that something is off, listen to your gut. Don’t be afraid to speak with your friend(s) and fellow protestors if you feel that something or someone is suspicious, this includes if you find someone tagging people with stickers or other markings as they move through the crowds (alert those that are marked, do NOT confront the person doing it). Stay with your friend(s) the entire time. Always keep your escape routes in mind.

Do not engage with counter-protestors. They may attempt to rile up the protest into a riot. Do not let them. Just ignore them and move on.

Avoid taking photos unless documenting potential law enforcement abuse. Be cautious when recording, do not interfere with police. If it feels like things are starting to get heated, listen to your gut and get away as quickly as possible.

It is likely that police may engage in kettling, where they will surround a group and restrict their movement. While this is supposed to be used for groups that they feel will cause violence, it can be abused. Keep moving randomly, stay close to bystanders, and avoid responding aggressively. If you are caught in this, ask the police if you are being detained. If arrested or detained, invoke your Fifth Amendment rights by remaining silent, only speaking to demand a lawyer.

6. Avoid Engaging in Provocative Behaviors

What this means is to not fall for tactics meant to get protestors riled up. It is not unheard of for police (or third parties) to set things up to coax people into engaging in behavior they otherwise wouldn’t. Do not take anything from anyone you do not know, especially if that something could be a makeshift weapon (ie, bricks, bats, equipment, etc). If its possible, you may try to deescalate by remaining calm and clearly indicating that you will not engage in violent behavior. If you are not comfortable, you may simply leave without saying another word.

Do NOT try to fight the police, it can ruin your life. While the police can get away with doing such things, you do not have that luxury. In terms of a ruined life, I do not just mean a record, I mean getting injured and it permanently affecting you the rest of your life. At worst, you could get killed. Do NOT attempt to fight or even provoke the police.

If things get heated and you are still in the protest. I’m talking police are marching forward, tear gas is being deployed, do NOT be a straggler. Even if you did nothing to provoke, the police can and will beat you. It is an intimidation tactic, they may know full well that you’ve done nothing but you are their closest target and they will use you as an example. Flee IMMEDIATELY. Do not throw things, do not yell at the police, just run to your emergency meetup spot.

------

Hopefully you’re able to show up and leave without incident. Remember, the idea of a protest is to gather as many people as possible to show our government all the people that care about a certain issue so that they do something about it. But if for whatever reason you are detained by police, do not forget that you have rights granted to you by the US Constitution.

For starters, peaceful protesting is protected by the First Amendment. This is why it is imperative that protestors remain peaceful and commit to not engaging in provocative or violent behaviors.

If police order the protest to disperse, you must comply and leave the area. Note, that police can only invoke this if there is clear evidence of danger of a riot or interference with traffic. In addition, police must allow for the protestors to calmly leave the area. This includes explicitly stating the amount of time, consequences for not complying, and what clear exit routes to take.

If you are detained by police, remain calm. Keep hands visible and comply with orders. I know this can be difficult for some and easier for others, but it is the best advice I can offer. Do not be afraid to state that you were exercising your First Amendment rights. Ask if you are free to leave, if they say yes then you may calmly walk away. If not, you may ask why but do not talk any further. If they are arresting you they must say why they are doing so. The last thing you can safely say is that you will remain silent and ask for a lawyer, these are your Fifth Amendment rights. Do not sign or consent to anything, including searches though police may perform a pat down if they suspect you have a weapon. Calls to a lawyer are confidential (this is where having lawyer information on you is handy). Police cannot access your devices without a warrant and they may not tamper with the data (aka, deleting files).

If you believe your rights are being violated, swiftly write down what happened, where, when, officer badge numbers, police car numbers, etc. Photograph any injuries you got.

Note: There may be few peaceful protestors out there that intend to get arrested should things escalate. Understand that this is incredibly serious and could jeopardize your future prospects in terms of job hunting and education. Do not attempt to get arrested to bring publicity if you cannot handle the consequences. Leave it for those who understand what it fully means to do something like this unless you are willing to accept the consequences. Things may be dire, but you deserve to live a full life and there are so many other ways you can help without jeopardizing your future. So, what are other ways to help? If you can’t make it to a protest, its okay. I mean hey, I can’t go either! So right off the bat here’s something you can do. Which is what I’ve been doing this whole time, getting information out there! Do not be afraid to share information from reliable sources to help keep your peers informed. And if you have a knack for writing, aggregate what you find to make a single post (and do please cite your sources). Help make it accessible for fellow community members if you want to! A bit meta but please do not use generative AI. It often gets information way wrong and the last thing we want is misinformation to spread. So please, do your own research and writing.

Call your representatives! Their phone numbers are listed publicly specifically for us to call at any time to make our voices heard. While it is best to reach US Congress members at their DC office, if that doesn’t work do try to call your local office instead. And if that doesn’t work either, do write them an email or send a post card! Depending on their hours and rules, you can even show up in person. Just make sure you’re aware of the rules to appear in person and your rights as a constituent. This can be a great alternative if you’re unable to go to a protest in-person but you want to show your representatives that you care and want to make your voice heard. I used 5 Calls to find my reps and a sample script to use to help keep the call focused and concise on the issue that I wanted to talk about.

Another neat way to help is by donating to mutual aid and legal funds made to help protestors that do get arrested. Just ensure that they are legitimate by vetting them thoroughly before sending over any money/payment information. Of course, this depends on your financial situation, but it also helps if you share so it can reach people who can donate. Organizations like the ACLU are excellent too.

Organize and meet with like-minded people! In a time where this administration is trying to divide us, it is crucial that we unite and work together to fight back. It does not stop after the protest is done, this work continues in the background where the average person may not notice. There are many roles that need filling, and it starts with talking to others and seeing where you can help.

I also want to say thank you to my friends and acquaintances who helped me write this by sharing their own knowledge, experiences, and some of the sources linked below!

And feel free to add to this! If you know of a good, reliable source or legitimate mutual aid fund, feel free to share! Its important that we help each other out and not give into despair. Why give the haters what they want?

Sources and Extra Reading:

[darckcarnival]

.

[clockwayswrites]

5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Four.

Clark stood up and positioned himself between the door and his injured teammate before it even opened, though not much before. His own delayed reaction made sense when it opened to show one of Batman’s teammates. While for the longest the League had thought Batman ‘worked alone’, they were now aware of there being a variety of heroes in Gotham, even if they were far from sure how many there might be or who those heroes were.

Nightingale was a notable exception what with his influence on the newest generation of heroes.

The young man flashed Clark a cheery smile and a little two finger wave. The motion almost distracting with the bright blue that marked the fingers.

“Hey Supes, I got notified that B was laid up.”

Clark paused. “You did?”

“Yep, I’m down as B’s emergency contact for Justice League matters. Feel free to confirm it if you want,” Nightingale said and leaned against the door frame with an easy shrug. “That’s exactly the sort of paranoia that B would approve of.”

It really was was, Clark thought. He grabbed the tablet that he had been using and pulled up Batman’s personnel file. It was a sparse file, of course, but clear as day Nightingale listed was next to ‘emergency contact’. Under his name as an alternative was ‘Condor’.

“Who’s Condor?”

“Me,” rumbled the man who stepped up behind Nightingale. He wasn’t as tall as the other hero, but he was broad. His lower face was covered in some sort of sleek gas mask, though Clark’s focus was pulled to the red lenses of the domino mask.

He certainly made for an intimidating figure.

Nightingale rolled his eyes. “Dramatic.”

Condor just shrugged. “I’m here to be the muscle.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. “For… what?”

“Oh, we’re taking B home!” Nightingale, well, chirped and pushed himself off the doorway.

Clark stepped in the way. “Batman needs to stay under medical supervision.”

“We know. We’re taking him to the Batcave. There’s a full medical set up there and we already have Batman’s personal doctor on hand to look him over,” Nightingale said as he smoothly edged his way around Clark. “Not that we don’t think you all have done your best! Just that way we’ll have his status for our files and he can recover at home.”

“Besides, you don’t want you-know-who to get wind that B is laid up like this and come storming the castle,” Condor said and came to take the other end of the medical bed.

Nightingale gave an over-the-top shudder. “Yeah, best to avoid that, he’s not having a good week already.”

“I, no, I don’t know who,” Clark said with a frown, though he did finally step out of their way. He couldn’t really tell them no, they did have control over Batman’s care. Still, he carefully watched them undo the clasps that would let them take off the top of the bed like a stretcher.

Condor lifted his end of the bed. “B’s husband, of course. Guy’s a little protective.”

“A little?” Nightingale asked as he pivoted with his end of the bed so they could start walking. “Calling him ‘a little’ protective is like calling what happened on Monday a ‘little’ multidimensional incident.”

Condor shrugged, the bed shifting a little with the motion, though it barely rocked Batman. “Okay, so maybe he’d rewrite the world for B if it came to it. That’s exactly why we’re getting B back to the Cave where he can be safe and settled before his paramour gets back from dealing with that ‘little’ multidimensional incident.”

“Right,” agreed Nightingale. “Thanks for looking after him, Supes!”

“You’re welcome?” Clark replied as the two heroes left the room, Batman carried between them.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

🕷️Just Another Neglected Story 🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.2 - [next]

I will add here the rest of the tag list, sorry for having to divide it into two

Clark immediately grabbed the door and punched it right in the middle of it, making a hole to which he used to grab the door off its hinges and throw it away, not caring about anything but Spider's wellbeing. 

He was the first one to enter the room, looking around to see if Joker was still there so he could kill the bastard who dared to hurt his child. 

Bruce was the second to enter and immediately walked around to find the vigilante, stopping to stare in silence at the cold body of Joker stuck on the wall. 

He checked for a pulse, not too worried about the clown but needed to see if he was worth saving, letting out a small sigh when he felt no pulse. 

He sighed once again, mostly out of anger since he wanted to be the one to kill the man who dared to hurt his child (Spider), before starting to worry that if Spider knew that they killed a man, he didn't know how they would react to the news. 

He quickly looked away and went back to search for the teen, now even more worried about their wellbeing, especially when Clark told him that he could hear their heartbeat but it was incredibly slow, which meant that he couldn't find them immediately.

As he looked around the room, he kept on getting angrier as he saw drops of blood from fighting and some weapons and bullets that Joker probably used on Spider since they were all covered in blood. 

As he searched around he heard Superman call for him and quickly ran up to him, finding a gravely injured Spider with their mask ripped off and full of bruises on their face and body. 

Their body was also covered in bruises and wounds made from Joker, their ragged breath accentuating the severity of their injuries. 

He gently called them using their vigilante name since no one knew their real name, sighing in relief when Spider opened their eyes to look at him and hissed at him, not recognising him or Clark because of their injuries and how scared they were. 

They calmed down after Clark gently called out to them and got in their line of vision then started talking with a broken voice as their eyes filled with tears, the words having to be repeated because of how much Spider sobbed and gasped from the pain of their injuries. 

"h-he kept laughing and hitting me after a weird gas poured in the room, I d-didn't want to hurt him but I punched him out of desperation, h-he's been so silent and I-I don't know if he's even alive, I'm so sorry". 

He set a hand on their head after taking off the rest of their mask to help them see better and just told them, with a soft voice that even Clark was a bit taken aback, "you did good kid, I'm sorry you had to fight alone" as he knew what Joker was capable of and was glad Spider survived and was able to fight back. 

He instructed Superman to pick them up and fly back to the Manor, using his own cape to cover Spider's body to protect them from the harsh winds while Clark was flying, letting Conner follow him so he could call Tim and get Alfred to prepare the medbay. 

He then turned to Jason and Stephanie with an unnerving calm face and a smile that the two took a step back in fear of what he was planning since Batman was never calm, especially if someone he cares about gets hurt. And he was smiling, which meant it was bad news and to not try to stop him. 

He quickly walked towards the three heroes in front of him and put a hand on both Stephanie and Jason's shoulder and said in a weirdly cheerful voice "who wants to help Batman burn down the place and all the people who dared to hurt Spider?". 

Not that Bruce was asking for their help, he just wanted it to be done faster so he could go home to Spider. In a normal case he would make it slow for whoever tried to hurt his child but this time he couldn't stop to enjoy the pain of the leader that was still in the room. 

He gave both of his kids a set of bombs to put all around the bunker, telling them to not care about anyone and just place the bombs around while he took care of the leader. 

He grabbed the makeshift throne from the pedestal it was put on and dragged it in the center of the room, not even caring about the noise the chair was making. 

He then grabbed the passed out cultist and threw him on the throne, using some handcuffs to hold him there so he wouldn't escape if things got bloody. 

Not that he wouldn't mind if things got bloody, he needed to relieve some stress after what happened to Spider and fortunately for him, that cultist was there and he needed to ask some questions.

He stared at the still passed out cultist and grabbed some smelling salts from his utility belt before snapping them under the cultist nose, a smirk appearing on his face when the cultist woke up and was scared when he saw him. 

He wanted him to be scared, god just seeing how scared he was while trying to free himself from the cuffs on both arms and legs was incredibly satisfying, especially to what he wanted to do to him. 

He roughly grabbed the cultist’s face to make him look directly at him, wanting all of his attention to ask his questions and slowly leaned down to look him right in the eyes. 

“Now I am gonna ask you a few questions, if you tell me the truth I will let you walk out of this room alive but if you lie..”

He didn't finish the sentence and let the fear and the realization of what he meant wash over the cultist face, enjoying every second of it and he wanted him to be scared. 

He let go of his face after a bit, a small smirk on his face when he saw the imprints of his fingers by how hard he squeezed his face. 

“Why was Joker here? That clown never worked with cultists before” 

He stayed silent as he watched the man hang his head low, starting to get even more angry when he didn't immediately answer. 

He took a small step back in shock when he suddenly heard a laugh, very similar to the laugh Joker always had whenever he fought that clown. 

His face was in shock when the cultist raised his head and showed the same maniac smile the clown always had, making him think that the ghost of Joker possessed the man, especially since the man just kept on laughing. 

“Batman, the world's greatest detective, can't figure out something so simple! The trap wasn't for you, or even one of your many sidekicks!”

The man kept on laughing before suddenly stopping, his smile still on his face as he stared at Batman right in the eyes. 

“It was for your little metahuman that started to clean the streets, everything here was for that annoying vigilante and leaving a message for you” 

He laughed again when he saw the shock in Batman’s face, not even minding the handcuffs on both arms and legs as he moved them while laughing like a maniac. 

“Everyone noticed your obsession for them, how all of your sidekicks kept on following them and getting rejected or thrown off a roof. You're not so secretive Batman and we just used them to send you a message” 

Bruce just stared at the cultist laughing before grabbing a gun that Jason gave him and just shot the cultist in the face, using all the bullets inside the magazine. (The thing that holds bullets inside the gun if you don't know)

He stopped when the gun didn't shoot anymore and walked out the room, his eyes filled with fury at the thought that other rogues and villains in Gotham wanted to hurt Spider.

As he walked around the bunker to get to the exit, he killed anyone who tried to attack him or was in his way, not even caring about his no-kill rule or how the blood kept splattering on his suit. 

He finally got out of the bunker, noticing both Jason and Stephanie near Conner’s ship and just gave them a nod before getting in his own jet, waiting until the bunker exploded before taking off. 

He put the coordinates to the batcave and flew as fast as his jet could, wanting to get to the Batcave as fast as he could, his mind going over so many scenarios of Spider dying because of him whenever Alfred or anyone else in the cave didn't answer his calls that he was starting to get a panic attack at the thought of Spider dying because he was too late to save them. 

When he finally arrived at the cave he basically jumped out the jet as it was landing and ran to the medbay, taking off his mask in the meantime as he didn't need it and having it on was like a reminder of the hatred that Spider has for that symbol. 

As he ran, he ignored both of the Kryptonians still in the cave, not caring about their presence as he was more focused on making sure Spider was ok. 

He arrived just in time because he saw Alfred walk out the medbay while taking off the surgical gloves and robes covered in blood and was throwing them away in a nearby bin. 

He quickly walked up to the old man and started to ask a barrage of questions, ranging to what's the situation with Spider to how were they holding up and if they were alive and didn't have anything that would make them unable to move or do certain tasks. 

He stopped talking when Alfred raised a hand to signal silence and listened as he explained:

"Their condition is stable - for now. Their wounds were.. severe to put it bluntly, Master Bruce. They sustained a multitude of near-fatal injuries from Joker. Fixing 2 broken bones in both arms, a fractured rib and stitching  3 stab wounds that, luckily, didn't pierce any of their organs is no small feat, consider it a miracle they are even alive."

He paused for a brief moment, almost as if to re-evaluate in his head.

"If my assessment is correct, they should be up and running in 5 days thanks to their increased healing rate, 8, maybe 9 if they were to refuse any medication." 

Bruce nodded and turned to Dick and Duke who were near the room where Spider was resting at the moment.

He started to talk with Duke and Dick about the situation, sighing in relief when both Clark and Conner left because Tim managed to convince them that if they stayed it wouldn't really help since Spider was still unconscious and they could come visit after Spider wakes up. 

When both Jason and Stephanie arrived he started to explain, to who didn't know, the situation with Spider before getting interrupted by Dick yelling out. 

“I call dibs to share my room with them!” 

His chest heaved in a quick rhythm as he finished his sentence, the words still just teetering on the tip of his tongue from how rushed his speech was, a big smirk on his face as everyone else glared at him. 

Bruce sighed when he saw his kids were ready to fight to share a room with Spider, even though he also wanted to share his own room to make sure Spider was ok if they stayed next to him the whole time they were recovering. 

Unfortunately he needed to be the voice of reason at the moment and said.

“Spider won’t be sharing a room with anyone, they’re weak right now and waking up with one of us in a new place will overwhelm them too much. They’ll get their own room.”

He smiled when everyone grumbled but nodded, glad that no one was gonna contest him on this decision. 

But the moment of happiness didn't last long since after not even 2 minutes Damian raised his hand and yelled out. 

“I wish to call dibs to be the first one to meet Spider when they wake in a room in the mansion” 

After Damian yelled that out, everyone started to fight to be the second person to be with Spider when they wake up and to also choose which room Spider was gonna be the next to. 

Alfred stayed silent for a bit as he listened intently, forced to hear his son discuss about Spider staying in the Manor when they already live there.

He tried to stay calm as he listened, keep his composure and remain civil. But hearing both Bruce and the others call Spider by their vigilante name and not their real name, even after seeing their face, made his blood boil - he knew that he couldn't wait anymore. 

The things Spider had been subjected to and the injuries they suffered as a result, and how the Bats had reacted upon seeing their face- not understanding they were their sibling and child made him so unfathomably frustrated and enraged at the people he'd raised and cared for. Bruce was still discussing with Damian allowing Spider to sleep in the room next to his so he could show them all of his animals as Alfred silently walked over to him.

He decided to stop waiting for his kids to finally realize that Spider was, in fact, [Y/N]. 

His attempts thus far had proved unsuccessful, even after all the small things he put around the house for them to notice. He knew they were a lost cause if they didn't get the hint after all he did so he just walked up to Bruce who was busy trying to convince Damian to not let Titus or anyone else of his pets inside Spider’s room. 

He waited patiently for Bruce to stop talking, since it is impolite to interrupt someone while they're talking, and called out his name. 

"Master Bruce." 

Which got him a simple hand wave, signaling that he was busy. The dismissive action made him annoyed that he wouldn't listen, but he tried once more.

"Mast-”

But he was interrupted by Bruce's sharp hand wave and a scoff yet again, the man obviously frustrated by Damian and Jason, since the two were now arguing about who Spider was going to be placed next to in terms of rooms. 

He was fed up of being ignored and interrupted by everyone around him, raising his hands before clapping them together with an angry look on his face that garnered the attention of the entire room, the normally alive and bubbling room screeching to a halt in a wonderful blend of terror and surprise since Alfred was almost never mad. His glare danced around the room, shooting at each individual face before settling on Bruce's similarly surprised expression. 

Then he began his exasperated speech in an eerily calm voice.

"Honestly, Master Bruce, I can't believe I raised you to be like this. I gave you all enough many chances to make it right, let you take your time figuring it out, but it seems like you cannot even put enough thought into noticing the blatant hints and information I have given you, I could have written it in bold red ink on my forehead and you would still turn a blind eye. I am so far beyond disappointed in all of you that there is no word in the English dialect that could possibly encapsulate just how much you have let me down."

He raised a hand to stop Dick and Damian from talking and trying to defend themselves, or shifting the blame onto someone else in the group. 

"I have been patient and understanding with all of you and your behavior towards [Y/N], but after what happened today with Joker, I cannot sit idly by and continue to allow myself to pretend as if your disgraceful behavior is acceptable. You have run my tolerance and composure thin, so much so I cannot even fathom being quite so lenient anymore."

He stopped once again to level his glare at Bruce before shifting it briefly to Damian, knowing what the kid did to [Y/N] when they first arrived at the Manor.

"Spider's secret identity is [Y/N] Lawrence, also known as [Y/N] Wayne to me, and who is your child Master Bruce. Your child got bit by a mutated spider while working in a science lab, of which they had informed me, but your blatant ignorance is not even the worst part." 

As he walked up to Bruce and put a finger on his chest, his footsteps seemed so loud and deafening that some of the individuals in the room had to refrain from covering their ears. Alfred prodded Bruce's chest accusingly as if he was trying to physically reach his heart, despite his doubts that the man could even feel it. 

"The worst part is that you all ignored that poor child who lost their mother and came to us seeking help. They needed a family and stability after their supposed 'loved ones' shut the door in their face, and yet they couldn't even find that here. Your child could have lost their life today, they could have been taken to hospital only for us to be told they are unable to be saved, you could have been called to the morgue to confirm the body is theirs. And yet I don't think you would have been able to name their corpse."

He paused for a brief second to regain his composure ever so slightly, turning his attention to the others in the room.

"They learned gymnastics for you, Master Dick. Just so that you two could have something in common to talk about.  However, you always ditched them for Master Tim or Master Damian whenever they begged you to do something with them."

He glanced at Jason and the others who were standing there, wanting to make sure his kids knew how bad they messed up. He also ignored how destroyed Dick and Bruce looked when they realized and remembered what they said and did to [Y/N].

"They spent days in the library reading your favorite books Master Jason and even learned about guns and the maintenance for one whenever you visited to be close to you. They were the one who left candies out for you and always made a new pot of coffee for you whenever you drank it all master Tim.”

He then glared at Damian, knowing what the young boy did to the poor vigilante, now resting in the med bay. 

"After losing their mother, they were ecstatic about the idea of having a younger brother but you, Master Damian, thought they wanted to steal your place as Robin when they didn't even know your identity. But did you even stop to consider how horrifically you were treating a child that you were supposed to be protecting?"

Alfred paused his talking to lean down and look Damian in the eyes, making sure the boy's gaze wouldn't drift away. 

"No you didn't. You instead abused that child and made them so frightened and anxious about living near you that I had to move them to the other side of the Manor and serve them food in their room so they wouldn't starve to death. Despite your treatment of them, you didn't seem to care about the consequences of your actions, did you Master Damian?" 

He leaned back and stared at everyone, an exhausted yet somewhat pleased little smile appearing on his face when he saw the horrified moment-of-realization expressions on display as the weight of their treatment of [Y/N] came crashing down on their shoulders.

His gaze turned to Stephanie, Duke and Cassandra who were in the back of the group. Stephanie's voice was hoarse and trembling as her uneven sobbing filled the air, the realization as to why Spider always ignored and looked so annoyed when seeing her hitting her like a freight train. 

He stayed silent as he watched everyone realize what they’ve done before Duke, who was a bit busy trying to calm down Stephanie who was still crying, asked out loud. 

“Wait, then where is Spi- I mean, [Y/N]’s room?” 

To which Alfred sighed but led everyone, except Stephanie and Cassandra, who stayed behind to help Stephanie calm down and also make sure Spider would be ok in the medbay. 

As they all walked they noticed the way the corridor that led to [Y/N]’s room was very dark, like all the lightbulbs were taken off every chandelier to hide something. 

When they finally arrived the first thing that was noticed was the door almost completely covered in stickers and little kids drawing, along with an empty plate on a small table next to the door. 

Alfred stopped in front of the door before looking at everyone behind him, annoyed at their obvious hesitation at entering [Y/N]’s room but eventually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, finally opening the room. 

The room is small.

As soon as they set foot inside, only two of them because not all of them fit, the feeling given by the room is almost claustrophobic. 

Being small by nature, the bed and objects make the room even more restricted, almost unbreathable. The mess does not fail to compensate for the effect; it is full of sheets of paper, fabric,  and metal constructions everywhere.

It is very admirable that [Y/N] managed to make gold out of every corner of the room, making it livable despite their spider "work". All the constructions and planning have even come to be hung from the ceiling.

Duke stayed a little to the side, but still took into account all the details of the room; like all the posters that cover the room. An almost spontaneous smile appeared on his face as soon as he realized that they are all about him as Signal, the thought of [Y/N] being a fan of his work made him happy and also proud of himself.

As everyone looked around, Dick raised his arm to grab the only sheet of paper that was hanging only on one side, being held by a web that basically crumbled when Dick tugged the paper off of it. But no matter how much he tries to decipher what is written, he really doesn't understand anything even though he knows many languages, dead and still used thanks to Bruce’s training.

Each paper everyone grabbed had a different topic written on it before being thrown around the room and attached to the wall or ceiling via webs. Some of those papers had methods to make the costume more comfortable to move, others tested various ways to make using the web shooters in a way that they could still work if they were underwater or electrocuted, while others depicted different versions of the costume, to make it easier for a child to see it and not scare them if they ever had to see it.

One of the main things that the two men that managed to be inside the room noticed is that they basically didn't know exactly what they're looking at. It's definitely one of the few times they set foot in [Y/N's] room, and the realization that they've neglected them so badly into allowing them to pull off a whole "hero" act without ever being aware of it hits them in the face like a violent slap.

As they looked around they all saw various photos in addition to the posters and papers pinned to the wall; in these photos there are various experiences where [Y/N] was depicted, but nothing is familiar to all of them, increasing their guilt. There were photos of them at a science fair, two or three at various dance recitals, but they noticed that the arrangement of the photos seemed purposely placed; every photo where [Y/N] was depicted, their smile seemed to become duller, forced as they grew older. Their eyes began to lose more and more of that spark of joy, becoming emptier, sadder.

Dick ran his eyes over all the trophies on the shelves, the badges from every competition he never attended. He doesn't remember them; hell, he never even saw them bring any  or badge home. For all the times [Y/N] has attended something, he has never been there. He should have thought twice before excluding them so much from his life. But there's no point in crying over spilled milk. 

Above all the badges and trophies there are only two photos; certainly spacing each other by 2-3 years. In the first photo, when [Y/N] was younger, they seemed genuinely happy to hold the trophy, smiling as if they wanted to dare the sun to shine like they did. But the second photo was completely different, it's almost agony for Dick to look at that fake smile imprinted on their face, like all their excitement and joy were sucked out of them but they still needed to smile. 

When Dick finally walked out the room to make way for Jason, his face was full of regret and guilt but the man ignored him to walk inside [Y/N]’s room. 

He ignored the papers all around the room and stayed a few seconds to look at the photos before looking at the small bookshelf he noticed in the corner. 

He slowly picked up one of the books sitting on the shelf and looked at the title, a bit surprised that it was Pride and Prejudice since every time he ever talks about it to someone, they never say that they liked it and just had to read it for school. 

But he saw that the book was incredibly used and full of small sticky notes all inside it. Whenever he opened a page following a sticky note sticking out the book he always found one of the passages filled with sticky notes or notes written on the page with a pencil, making him smile at the thought of [Y/N] loving the book so much that they wrote what they thought on the pages. 

As he flipped through the pages of all the books, he kept on noticing that on his favorite paragraphs there were small notes, like small instructions on how to add those paragraphs in a conversation with him, his heart breaking at the thought of [Y/N] working so hard to just incorporate something he liked so he could like them. 

He could feel the excitement in all the notes by the way they wrote them, like you couldn't wait to see him and talk to him about it. But he knew that you two never talked much, hell he can't even remember one single conversation he had with [Y/N], making him feel even worse than before. 

As Jason kept on reading all the books in the small bookshelf, Tim got to work on their laptop that he managed to find after searching all around the room. 

As he opened the case that had [Y/N]’s laptop inside, he could see some old stickers that depicted him during his time as Red Robin, along with some cute cat stickers that covered almost the entirety of the laptop's outside. The sight made him smile, endeared by the thought of [Y/N] still liking him enough that they actually had some of his stickers on their laptop. 

After opening it up, he powered it on and copied the password off of the little scribble next to the keypad. Going through the stuff inside the laptop, he noticed a folder full of photos of all of the bats, in either an embarrassing situation or funny moments when they were inside a dumpster after [Y/N] threw them inside of one. The thought made him laugh, especially whenever he found small notes written on that photo like what their crime was as to why they ended up in a dumpster. Though Duke, Cassandra and Bruce were missing from all the photos, as if they never existed to begin with.

As he kept going through [Y/N]’s laptop, he turned to place the heavy item onto the table since it was starting to get hot from being powered on. As he pushed some items out the way to make room, he accidentally pushed the laptop case off the desk, watching as a small usb  bounced out and fell onto the floor,  sparking Tim's curiosity. What could possibly be inside of that usb?

He grabbed it and plugged it in, initially waiting patiently for it to load. His irritation grew as he watched the loading animation loop over and over and over again, almost teasingly. He made a mental note to buy [Y/N] a better laptop. Perhaps even a whole pc setup so they could play together. 

When the laptop finally gave him access to the contents of the usb, he found a multitude of videos that dated back years before [Y/N] arrived at the Manor. 

He quickly went back to the newer video in the usb and clicked on it, curious as to what these videos had captured.

Tim curiously clicked the play button on the small screen, watching as it started playing. The scene displayed that of a small child, no older than five or six, who he quickly recognised as [Y/N]. They seemed to be in a living room of sorts, though he was just assuming that based on the blurry sofa and coffee table in the background. 

He stared in surprise at the screen as they put the phone on something, probably a shelf or table, to keep it still. Tim laughed a little whenever it kept sliding over, the child's tiny yet menacing voice threatening to throw the phone as they stomped closer to it to prop it back up. This happened several times before they got the right angle. When they finally managed to get the phone to cooperate, he watched as they took a few excited steps backwards, tripping once or twice, before they smiled brightly at the camera.

"So! I just got my first role in a BIG dance recital!! I'm gonna be the uh- uhm I think it's the swan in, uh.. Swan Lake? I think that was what it's called, but anyways I don't care! I'll be a pretty swan!" 

The child twirled around in sheer joy, showing off the sparkly white ballerina outfit, the pretty pearls shimmering in the little sunlight that poured in through a nearby window and the delicate lace shifting with the movement of the dress. The excited spinning halted as [Y/N] jumped a bit upon hearing a voice called their name. As he listened to the gentle lull of the voice, Tim realized it belonged to a woman, though it was unfamiliar to him. 

He laughed when the small child ran to grab the phone, noticing that they didn't stop the recording. Instead, they just ran to the kitchen where he could see a woman standing over the counter cutting some vegetables with her back to the camera, dressed in some simple pajamas that were decorated with stars. She was shorter than average, with long brown hair that lay on her shoulder.

The young dancing prodigy shakily pointed the phone towards the woman, before asking loudly, "So, Miss Mom, are you excited about [Y/N]'s first dance recital?" Their enthusiasm radiated from their voice, bleeding into their movement as the camera just barely captured the woman's face turning and laughing softly at the young child's determined expression. Now that he had a good look at her face, Tim presumed this woman was [Y/N]'s mother based on their similar facial features. 

"So serious! Though, this isn't your first dance recital my little star, you have done many before now." She exclaimed, her shoulders shaking as she smiled brightly at her child.

"Mooooom! This is my first REAL dance recital because I have a big role now!"

As the woman playfully shook her head with a stifled chuckle, smiling down at them, she turned her head to her right, encouraging [Y/N] to follow her line of sight.

"Boris! Tell her!!"

The camera panned over to a much bigger man hunched over a cooking pot, and as he turned his head to look at the woman with a knowing smile, Tim noticed a deep gash along his cheek. No, not a gash, a scar perhaps? This baffled Tim since he knew of the existence of [Y/N]'s mother, but had no recollection of a father in their life. 

"You guyssss, I'm a freaking swan! Do you know how cool swans are?!" 

Tim chuckled softly when he heard little [Y/N] say their version of a bad word, watching with a fond smile as the woman gasped dramatically with a shocked expression while the man turned his head away as if trying to hide his laughter. 

"Little star! Where did you hear such a bad word?”

To this, little [Y/N] paused for a good few seconds before their tiny hand appeared in the frame and gestured to the man, throwing him under the bus in order to avoid punishment. 

"Boris said it earlier when the TV wouldn't work."

Tim watched with a curious smile as  the woman turned her hardened glare to the man, who gave her a nervous look. "Look it was an accident Amelie, I didn't realize [Y/N] was in the room-" The man had a slight accent, possibly Russian.

Before he could finish his sentence, the video got cut off, leaving Tim in a thoughtful silence. So [Y/N]'s mother was called Amelie? How interesting. Still, who exactly was that man?

He quickly went to the web browser on the laptop and searched for [Y/N]’s mother, which wasn't hard since the first thing that popped up were articles of her death and photos of the incident. 

As he searched more articles about her, he noticed a few things: [Y/N] was never mentioned in any of the articles that talked about Amelie during her modeling career or about her having any types of relationships.

While he searched, he did find a few photos of Amelie with Boris, easily recognisable thanks to face scars, but as he could see by the many photos taken by paparazzi and fans, Boris was always by the side looking like a bodyguard. 

Another quick research, about the man this time, and he found out that Boris was with Amelie when she was driving and died on his way to the hospital. 

Tim quickly finished searching and turned off the laptop before grabbing it along the usb to watch more videos about [Y/N], especially since he saw a small folder full of other videos that mostly depicted [Y/N] as a teen, so he wanted to see them in his room and make copies of all the videos to show the others.  

When Tim finally walked out the room along with Duke, Damian finally walked inside the small room, grimacing at the sight of the mess that [Y/N] lives in.

He promptly ignored Jason, who was still reading the books and had tears in his eyes, to focus on more important things, like searching through [Y/N]’s desk drawers and in the closet. 

In the desk drawers he didn't find much, just a few folders containing useless information and school books that Damian ignored, angry that he couldn't find anything in the folders. 

But when he searched the closet, grimacing at the poor quality of the clothes [Y/N] dared to wear that he even made a mental note to buy decent clothing for them when they woke up, he saw a few boxes at the back. 

When he opened the first one he saw a small box full of vials, all labeled with ‘web fluid’, while next to the small box were a few web shooters, at least that's what the label on all of them said. 

He grabbed them all and noticed a folder at the bottom of the box, which contained informations on how to create the web shooters thanks to the grappling hook parts and what to improve in the next model, so Damian assumed those web shooters in the box were old version that [Y/N] didn't use anymore. 

He was impressed at how neat the information in the folder was, all in order and even highlighted when something was important or not, plus small notes added with pencil or post its. 

When he finished reading the information, he put everything back in the box and set it aside to grab another box that was in the back of the closet, finding almost three, maybe four, albums of photos. 

He slowly grabbed one, making sure to not damage anything in the album as he slowly looked through the pages, admiring the photos of a small [Y/N] along with their mother or an unknown man. 

The other two albums contained photos of a woman, he assumed it was [Y/N]’s mother during modeling gigs and from clippings taken on magazines, alongside photos of her with a man, again the same man he kept seeing with [Y/N]. 

He closed the album in frustration and put it back in the box before grabbing the last box in the closet, wanting to see what this had so he could either use it to bond with [Y/N] or to understand why they hate him. 

He understood that [Y/N] hated him, especially after Alfred pointed it out and made everyone see who Spider really was, but he also didn't understand why they hated him the most. 

Yes, he did hurt them pretty badly that they had to find a safe place in this small room but he didn't understand the hate. He did the same with Drake but he didn't hate him. 

As he opened the last box, which he immediately noted was full of dust which meant that [Y/N] didn't really open it much and just kept in the back of the closet to collect dust, he only saw a notebook. 

He slowly picked it up, patting it down a few times to get rid of the dust before opening it to the first page, which read ‘Diary of [Y/N]’. 

He closed it and debated if he should really open it or not before finally opening it, needing to know why they hated him and maybe the diary contained some information about it. 

He started to read the first entries before skipping pages until he came to an entry where his name was mentioned. 

20-03-XXXX 

Dear Diary

Hi, sorry for not writing to you for a few months but many things happened that you wouldn't believe! Well you don't really believe in anything, you’re an object. 

I moved out of my old house and went to live with my father, and yes I know it's weird since mom never mentioned him but I had to move in with him. 

You might be wondering why, well mom and Boris died. The policeman who took me to my father explained everything, they both died in a car crash, he even let me grab everything I needed. I managed to grab all the albums I made with mom and Boris and mom’s favorite jewelry but not much. 

I think auntie is gonna grab her clothes and other objects, I hope she won't sell them. 

Well no more sadness! My father is Bruce Wayne! The billionaire man who made so many things possible in Gotham! 

I am unsure if he knew that I existed, he looked so surprised when the policeman, I think his name was Gordon, explained what happened to mom and why I should stay with him. 

But I got a big ass room! It's even bigger than my old one! Oh I have to ask Alfred, my father's butler and yes, he really has a butler, if I can buy some night stars to put on the ceiling and some new clothes. 

I also have a younger brother! His name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul! His surname sounds so cool compared to Lawrence! 

Plus he’s arabic! Alfred told me he was raised in a ‘traditional manner’ but I don't know what that means, maybe that means that he’s a prince? 

Oh my god, I have a prince as a brother! That would be so cool! I hope I can be friends with him and the others! I am so excited! 

I do miss mom and Boris but I can't stay sad forever, the consultant in school said so. Plus I adore everyone! They're so cool and fashionable! I want to be like Dick or Tim when I grow up! 

Oh yea I also have some many older brothers! Their names are: Richard but he prefers Dick, I don't understand why, Jason, Tim who is very cool like a Duke by how classy he is and Duke! 

I also have two older sisters, Stephanie and Cadsandra, even though they're not ‘really’ part of the family like Alfred said but I consider them my sisters! They look so cool and Cassandra is so cool, like an assassin or a ninja! 

Damian slowly closed the notebook, using a finger to not lose the page and just thought about what he just read. 

He knew [Y/N] came to the Manor when they were 12, maybe 11, so the entry was maybe a few months after their mom died in an accident with a man, possibly the man he kept seeing in the photos, named Boris. 

But what he read shocked him. They considered him cool and just wanted a friend. They didn't even know about the family's business and just thought everything was cool. 

He quickly shook his head and reopened the notebook to read more, needing to know more about what they thought of him and when it changed. 

15-04-XXXX 

Dear Diary 

You know Damian, the younger brother I told you about almost 5 months ago? About how he's so cool and everything and how I want to be friends with him? 

Well he's not so cool anymore, he keeps hurting me and calling me names, saying things like “you won't replace me, I will be the ultimate Robin”. 

I think I spent more time with Alfred stitching up cuts made by him than everyone else in this Manor. I hate Damian so much!  

Why would I even want to be Robin?! I don't even know who Robin is now since they keep changing hair colors! Why would I be a Robin?! Batman is too scary! 

I just wanted a younger brother, is that so bad to ask for? I understand that I came into their life without much notice but it's not my fault I came here! 

It's that drunk driver's fault! He’s the one who killed my mom and Boris! I don't even want to be here! I would prefer to be with my mom, watching her get ready to do a photoshoot while Boris tells me stories about his time in the secret agencies he was in. 

I hate this Manor, I hate Dick and his excuses for not hanging out with me, Bruce for telling me that I am just someone he’s forced to take care of and not his child and especially Damian! 

I miss mom, I want to hug her one more time and dance with her. 

Why did she go to the supermarket? She could've gone another day! It's all my fault, I should've never let her go with Boris, if I did she would still be here with me. 

Damian stopped reading after that because the writing was almost illegible and in a few parts the ink was smeared because of small droplets of water, most likely tears. 

He felt horrible, even more now that he read about himself in [Y/N]’s eyes and how quickly their feelings for him changed. 

Even now, as he read past passages about himself, he could see how much they adored him even after he hurt them and it felt like knives were being stabbed on his body. 

As he read, he started to feel something wet trailing down his face and when he went to touch his cheek, he didn't saw blood on his fingers like he thought 

He quickly got up and put the diary on the bed before running out of the room, too distraught to stay there as the words written by [Y/N] about him kept circling around his head, taunting him and telling him that it was all his fault. 

He’s the reason why [Y/N] hates everyone in the Manor, he’s the reason why they refused to be a part of the Batfam when they were Spider. He caused this. He made them move into a closet just because he was scared of losing the Robin mantle. 

He ruined everything because of his selfish behavior towards a stupid mantle that you didn't even know belonged to him, and he knew it. 

He collapsed in front of the medbay after finally getting back in the batcave, a bit glad when he saw that Stephanie and Cassandra weren't there to see him crying, and sobbed in front of the room, knowing that he didn't deserve to even enter the room after what he had done to [Y/N]. 

When Bruce saw Damian run out he tried to follow him but stopped, knowing the boy probably needed to be alone and would refuse his attention if he tried to help. 

He nodded when Jason walked out the room and stood in front of the door, wanting to enter but still felt like he didn't deserve to even enter one of the only safe spaces that [Y/N] had in the Manor. 

Bruce kept staring at the room, his thoughts running wild when he saw how small the room was compared to his or even Tim’s room. 

“Alfred, what was this room before [Y/N] moved in it?”

The tiny space looked more fit for a young child, with walls that seemed to curve inwards the longer you stood in there, of which you could only stand if you were under 6ft. 

Posters, pictures and multiple sheets of paper decorated any free space on the aged walls, the rest of the area covered by a wardrobe and a shelf that used to hold a few books that Jason took to his room. 

A large bed sat pressed against the corner of the room, creating a small area of safety with the various pillows and blankets piled up on top of the thin mattress. Clothing was scattered all across the room, alongside all the documents and papers that were scattered around the room, though mostly on and underneath the bed, having likely been kicked under there by [Y/N] after they tripped on it.

The whole room emanated with coziness yet was so small that anyone would feel claustrophobic even just looking in the room. 

And yet [Y/N] had called this room their home, settling in each night to the tiny bed after kicking their clothing somewhere random in the room and slowly slipping into the realm of sleep as they smiled fondly at the figures on their shelf.

"This used to be a storage room."

Alfred interrupted, capturing Bruce's attention and pulling him out of his trance-like state. "We used to put random items like cleaning products and laundry supplies in here, I remember there used to be a cabinet for the detergent over there." He said gently, smiling a little as he gestured to where the small bed now sat. "[Y/N] was delighted when they found this room, practically begging me to stay in here. They told me it seemed cozy, though I will admit I did find it a little odd they wanted such a small room." He told him, chuckling a little towards the end of his sentence. 

"The way their little face lit up in excitement once we got the bed in here, watching them run around the room playing with their figures and hanging up posters. The room was small, sure, but it was more than enough for them.”

Bruce stayed silent after Alfred said that and looked around the room before noticing a small book next to the bed. 

He slowly picked it up and sat on the bed, opening it to the first page and immediately reading ‘Diary of [Y/N]’ on it. He closed it and wondered if he should read it, mentally debating on whether or not he was allowed. 

He decided on reading it when he remembered that he didn't know anything, absolutely nothing about his kid and what happened to them and how they were before they got bit by a spider.  

Bruce knew it was wrong, it was another invasion of [Y/N]’s privacy but he didn't care. He wanted, no he needed to know about them. 

20-05-XXXX (you can change the date with your birthday) 

Dear Diary, this is my first entry in this book that is now called Diary. 

Mom says that I have to practice writing and that I also can use it to express feelings or tell stories that I don't want to tell anyone in this book, so I shall be doing that. 

As of today, my birthday, I am now 7 years old and I have celebrated another birthday with no father, just my mom and Boris. 

If you are wondering, even though you can't since you are an object, I do not know who my father is and Boris is not my dad. 

He told me that when I once called him dad, which made me sad since why do I have to hold this title for a person that has never showed up in my life when Boris is always there for me when I am either sad or feel like I can't do anything? 

This is not fair. I will mom who my dad is and pretend to know why he doesn't want me. I don't even know why he doesn't want me! And I’m 7! 

Well, I’ll tell you when I come back! 

Ok so, mom told me that my father is someone that can't be traced so he’s either a ghost or dead. Which is the same thing. 

Well I don't care, I’ll just tell Boris that he's my dad, even if he doesn't marry mom since she refuses to have other relationships and because Boris told me that he's attracted to other men and not women. 

I don't envy him, boys suck. Especially my ghost dad! He abandoned mom! 

As Bruce finished reading the first passage, he realized that their mother, Amelie, didn't try to paint him as someone evil just because he wasn't there. 

He was also amazed at how serious the first entry was, it was almost a work document but he didn't think too much about it. 

He felt horrible because he remembered all the time he talked bad about Amelie and how she couldn't just do one thing and keep [Y/N] away, not even caring if [Y/N] was in the room or around. 

He knew Amelie, she was one of the models who never tried to flirt with him and spent most of her time talking with her bodyguard, acting like he didn't exist. 

He also remembered that, after that night with her, she never called him until a week or two later to inform him that she was pregnant and how she just wanted child support if he didn't want to be in the child’s life. 

He was incredibly surprised when she called him and even more surprised when she sent him a very well made child support agreement where she just wanted a decent amount of money every month and she will never bother him, she’ll just add him to the birth certificate if something happened to her. 

He quickly shook his head to get rid of the thoughts about Amelie and skipped a few entries in the Diary before stopping at one where his name was mentioned in the first line. 

31-09-XXXX

Bruce Wayne is my father. 

I now know who my father is.. and yet I don't feel anything. 

At first I wondered- why am I not happy? My father is a billionaire and a very famous man in Gotham, shouldn't I be excited and happy to have such a new lavish lifestyle with a loving, caring father?

Then I thought about it and came to a conclusion..

I don't like Bruce Wayne.

My mother and Boris died in a car crash. They were gone and I believed I had just become an orphaned child with no parents or guardians to care for me. 

And then the police told me I had a father - Bruce Wayne. That man looked at me like I was some grotesque animal when the nice policeman told him about what happened and who I was.

I don't like Bruce. 

He looks scary and totally different from what I saw on the TV whenever he was in a program with one of his many children. 

He keeps saying things under his breath, like how my mom had one job and failed at it or how annoying I was because he didn't want me here since I was the reminder of my mom. 

I want to hit him.

It's not her fault. 

How dare he say things about mom! She wasn't perfect, I know that, but nobody is! Just because she didn't know how to cook meat and always had Boris cook anything that was fish or meat doesn't make his hatred for her okay! She was horrible at making drawings with me but she tried to, she put in effort to sit with me and draw anyway!

Why does he hate her so much?! 

Why does he hate me?! 

I don't even want to be here! 

I want my mom back! 

I want Boris back! 

I miss my house, I miss my room! 

I hate this.

I hate everything.

I hate him. 

I hate Bruce Wayne.

Bruce stopped reading after that and just stared at the opened closet, trying to wrap his head around what he read. 

He couldn't believe he did that. No he could believe that he said something like that, he was going through a rough patch with both kids, business and his vigilante job that when [Y/N] suddenly entered his life he didn't do anything to help them adjust or comfort them. 

He also remembered how Amelie was a nice woman when he woke up in her bed, that explained what happened thoroughly for him, how they were both drunk and thankfully Boris took them to her house, and even gave him her business card after she took his so she could contact him if she was ended up pregnant because she knew she wasn't on a safe day and he didn't use a condom. 

He actually admired how gentle she was and how, when she contacted him about her being pregnant and how she wondered if he wanted to be in his child’s life, accepted his refusal and the offer of child support, not even caring about how much money he was gonna give her every month. 

So he felt even more horrible and a downright scumbag when he realized that he insulted one of the many women he respected in front of her child and how he never apologized or tried to make amends. 

Not even the realization about his actions would excuse them, especially because he said those words to a child, a traumatized child who just lost everything and had to be thrown into a house where no one wanted them. 

He slowly flipped through the pages, stopping when he found one of the last entries, which were dated almost 2, maybe 3 years ago. 

08-07-XXXX

Dear Diary 

As stated before, I moved into Wayne Manor and now I am a Wayne. I refuse to take his surname though, I will never give up my mother's last name. 

This will probably be one of my last entries since I will switch to video diaries, mostly to just watch myself and actually explain while talking. 

I have been in this hell that I have to call house for almost 3 years and I hate it. I know that I say it many times but it's true. 

I hate Dick and how he acts like he's the golden child, so righteous and kind to Tim and Damian but when I ask to do anything with him, he just tells me that he's busy. 

Even though I know that those are excuses so he wouldn't have to hang out with me. 

I hate Jason and how he complains that Bruce doesn't love him, but I know that he does. That man loves Jason even if he kills people as Red Hood but doesn't do anything about it. 

I hate Tim. I don't know much about him but I hate him so much because he's so perfect, already a CEO and so good at everything that even if I manage to do something good, I will always be compared to him by Bruce. 

I hate Stephanie, Cassandra and Duke. They never hang out with me, telling me that they're busy when I see them play around together or with others. 

What did I even do to them?! 

I hate Damian and how he feels superior just because he's an Al Ghul and Robin. I hate it. He has everything, Bruce’s and everyone else's love and attention and yet, he still tormented me and scarred me just because I existed. 

I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS BATMAN WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THE MANOR.

I hate Bruce Wayne. I hate his perfect TV smile and persona, I hate how he acts like he loves all of his children and yet he has never spent any time with me ever since I came to his Manor years ago. 

I hate how he told Dick about how annoying my voice was after I visited to ask him to sign something for school. How he described my voice as nails on a chalkboard for his ears and how he wished he never had to hear it again. 

But if he wants to, then I shall never talk again. Maybe this will make him happy. 

Bruce slowly looked up when he finished reading that entry, the diary slowly slipping out of his hands and falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 

He couldn't believe that he said something so horrible about a kid, someone he should be protecting, and made them, made his own child, hate their own voice. 

He slowly put his hands on his head and just cried silently, the realization that he was the reason as to why [Y/N] hated the Manor and their own blood, because he was a horrible father to a traumatized child that just wanted a family after losing their own so early.

The manor was quiet, eerily so. Usually it was bursting with life, sound practically reverberated off the walls. But today it was almost silent. Amidst this silence, a child finally wakes up from their slumber in a room in the Manor. 

You slowly opened your eyes, hissing when the blinding lights coming from the window immediately hit your face like a rocket, making you try to move your arm to cover your face. 

You slowly looked down to your arm when you noticed the difficulty at moving it and found it in a cast that almost enveloped all your right arm. 

You looked at the other arm and sighed in relief when you saw that it was just bandaged up and not in a cast. 

You did notice that you had an IV in your hand, making you sit up despite the pain you felt all over your body and managed to pull it out with the casted arm. 

After you pulled out the IV, you noticed that you were in a far bigger room compared to the small one you had before. You looked at the shelves and noticed that your worn out books were replaced with new ones while the photos and posters were in the same places but with more space. 

As you looked around, you could see that the furniture was the same, confirmed by the scratches on the closet, which was the closest to you, that you accidentally did while trying the first prototype of the web shooter in the room which resulted in you throwing the flaming machinery at the closet before destroying it as you tried to put out the fire before Alfred noticed. 

You laughed a little at the memory of your panicking before almost doubling over in a fit of cough, your throat burning when you finally calmed down. 

You slowly moved the blankets off of you after you calmed down enough to think rationally, understanding that you weren't in your room anymore but still in the Manor thanks to the walls and the colors in the room, which were totally different from the ones you had in your own room. 

You ignored how both of your legs were bandaged up and slowly got off the bed, using the IV stand to keep yourself standing as you wobbled to the desk, noticing almost all the papers you had around your room were now in neat piles, making you extremely angry since you immediately knew that Bruce and his kids entered your room, probably because of Alfred interference. 

You pulled away from the desk, still holding onto the IV stand and coughed a little, noticing that the shirt you were wearing was starting to get blood on it. 

You slowly raised the shirt and noticed that the bandages on your chest and sides were full of blood, but you ignored it and went for the door, needing to get out of here since you knew that if you were in a different room it meant that they all knew you were Spider. 

When you finally made it to the door, your vision was already starting to get blurry from all the blood you were losing. You finally opened it but fainted before you even managed to take a step out, the last thing you saw was the silhouette of a man running up to you, his face blurry and his voice muffled. 

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[my-darling-boy]

I know you're a reenacter but the iron cross hat selfle pfp is NOT a good look without context. I got jumpscared thinking I accidentally followed a neo-nazi blog

Hey! So this is why eduction is really important actually and exactly why more people need to familiarise themselves with symbols, clothing, and history in general as to be able to contextually identify reasons for genuine concern when you believe you have encountered a red flag instead of immediately leaping to conclusions due to lack of knowledge. And being a reenactor, I’m going to take time to educate you on what these things are because this will prevent mistakes like this from happening in the future. Also I like infodumping.

What you are actually looking at is a British cap badge for the Sherwood Foresters Regiment, also commonly known as the Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire Regiment, or Notts and Derby for short. It was active in Britain between 1881–1970. I am a First World War reenactor and my impression in the pfp is of the 15th Sherwood Foresters, a “bantam” battalion, a unique battalion within the regiment historically comprised of men under 5’3” (I’m 5’2”). The “Iron Cross” you think you’re seeing is actually a Maltese cross. Additionally, the Iron Cross predates Nazi Germany by over 100 years; the decoration, conceived in 1813, was one such medal able to be received by those in the then-Prussian/now-German military, or in this case, during the First World War. Both symbols went through some changes over the 19th and 20th centuries, but the basic design is the same. Here is a close-up to distinguish clearly between the two:

My uniform is also that of a British soldier (infantry, in my case) during the First World War. I won’t go through the ins and out of the entire uniform, but let’s take a look at the pfp so we can help you to better identify it in the future because another piece of context that can be gathered about my cap badge is from my uniform which would allow you to infer I’m not wearing a German badge because under no circumstances, especially during WW1, would you ever catch a British uniformed soldier sporting an Iron Cross on his cap.

In my pfp, I’m not even wearing all the correct things because it really was just a cheeky selfie I took some time ago with some modern items to replace what I didn’t have at the time lol. But let’s assume for a minute I’ve actually got full kit. It was meant to be winter, 1917. I’m also wearing my gas mask bag backwards for some reason (I also don’t have it secured).

Firstly, my standard dress (SD) British uniform and greatcoat—latter in spirit—is thick khaki wool. Germans, at least for the times you’re thinking of, wore at lot more blue/slate, grey, and black, with some occasional touch of colour trim like red. Many militaries wore green and brown during this time, the British were amongst them. The “Greatcoat” I’m wearing is at-a-glance-similar to one worn at the time by enlisted men. Gloves and scarves would ordinarily be knit (I had modern ones).

The trench cap is much like a standard peaked cap you might’ve seen in various other occupations and is very much like the khaki stiff cap normally issued only this one was meant to be softer and foldable, able to be stowed away in your pack as space was limited: you carried all your belongings with you wherever you went! It also had a chin strap no one ever realistically wore. While it depends on the year, these caps were usually worn when not on the front line as metal helmets were mandatory instead to protect from the falling debris and other projectiles.

Further down, I have my gas mask and small box respirator (SBR) which wasn’t widely used until 1917. Before this came the PH Hood or Gas Hood which was akin to basically a canvas pillowcase treated with a chemical compound through which you would breathe and featured a couple of glass eyeholes and a goofy looking rubber flap nearer the mouth to exhale. Before this, it was a chemically soaked rag or face cloth, sometimes it was soaked in your own piss as Urea (found in urine) was a natural deterrent for early chemical weapons. As things like mustard gas came more into use, old protections were no longer effective. The SBR was created as it used an internal wire and cotton filter also containing charcoal and soda/quicklime in a small metal box and was housed in a khaki canvas bag worn round the neck; air would pass through the better equipped filter, through the tube, and into a mouth piece making it safer to breathe.

Though not fully able to be seen, I’m also wearing Pattern 1908 canvas webbing. This held…pretty much everything. The whole thing comes apart to be just a belt but can be built up to carry about 150 rounds of .303 ammunition in those small front pockets, a sheathed bayonet and entrenching-tool wooden handle on the left, water bottle on the right, entrenching tool spade (for the handle) on the back or right, and a small or large pack worn on the back to hold extra clothes, hygiene items, kit maintenance supplies, personal items, and any other gear depending on the situation. The webbing was to be covered in a protective layer whose brand name was Blanco which gave the webbing that slightly green tinge and was essentially used to keep the canvas from rotting (today it still takes over 4 hours to put one coat on the whole thing with a small stiff brush, it’s gruelling)

While this certainly isn’t everything, I would hope it would slightly better inform you next time you encounter a British WW1 uniform as to not mistake it for a German WW2 uniform. Bit of an older reference, but below is a loose snapshot of what German infantry uniforms looked like progressing between 1914-1918 as to tell them apart from the ones during WW2.

As far as reenacting goes, not everyone who wears the kind of insignia you misidentified is going to be doing SS or partaking in dangerous ideologies. Germany existed before WW2, Germany famously went through WW1 long before the new Chanel designed uniforms were ever associated with industrialised fascism. I won’t speak for anyone who does any sort of German reenactment as that’s not my place since I don’t dress in that impression, but there is an unspoken code of conduct when you’re in any uniform as a reenactor: your first job is to be a living history educator and certain periods are still Hot, as in, even though the event might’ve ended, the aftermath still has an active impact on current society. It’s your job as a reenactor to be aware and conscious of the effects your visual presence has on a modern audience and take responsibility in wearing it mindfully and carefully as the hobby does not exist in a vacuum. I’m not saying there aren’t people in it to just “play bigot” because there definitely are people who do. But knowing who is and who isn’t largely begins with comprehension, at least loosely, of what you’re looking at. While no one expects you to be an expert, young people especially would benefit from knowing more history and multidimensional social and cultural related knowledge to provide further situational context when encountering these symbols, uniforms, and history. Things like this can help you tell the difference between a history nerd reenacting a British WW1 soldier and someone you think is lusting after a man with a very infamous moustache. Being able to distinguish one thing from another is unsurprisingly really helpful when or if you ever encounter these symbols or content outside of a reenactment setting and can indeed allow you to spot the true unsavoury people even in civvies, no uniform or iron cross required. I understand why you would initially react with fear upon seeing something you thought looked like a symbol which today can serve as a dog whistle for something darker, but learning context is key.

Furthermore I’m not sure how I could provide context to a pfp, other than having maybe say a WW1 signaller as my header image, my pinned post being WW1 related, and pretty much all personal content posted to this blog being about WW1 for over the last 8 years.

Hope this helps!

[sanguineterrain]

hey sanne! hope you're having a good day!

love your fics soo much and i always jump up a little when i get a notification for when you post on ao3!

i have a request if it interests you! what if jay and reader get stuck in a hostage situation together? like at a bank or a convenience store or something? just obsessed with the idea of jason being protective and badass in his civilian identity!

thank you for your lovely fics! 💕

thanks for the request!

jason todd x gn!reader. mild violence, robbery, jason being cute and sweet and a little awkward as per, reader is guilty of judging jason by his appearance.

****

The bell above the door chimes as you enter your favorite convenience store. You haven't been in a while, but the older clerk still nods and smiles at you, saying hello in an accent you don't know. You greet him back.

He's a nice man, sometimes sneaking in a free pack of gum into your bag. Proof that capitalism hasn't squashed everyone's spirit yet.

Actually, you used to regularly stop here to get a treat on your walk home. Lately, though, the prices have been too steep for your meager wages.

Three dollars for a bag of chips is actually ridiculous. Are they 24K gold chips? Will they cure fear gas syndrome?

Stupid inflation.

You take a step back, thinking maybe the price will lower if you put some distance between you. Instead, you bump into someone's shoulder. You quickly back away, apologies on your lips.

Whoa.

The shoulder belongs to possibly one of the biggest guys you've ever seen. Even swallowed up in his red hoodie, he looks like he could bench press four of you. He towers over the packaged cookie display, which is what he'd been looking at before your misstep.

He's also wearing long sleeves and jeans in eighty degree weather, which is... a choice. Maybe he has an iron deficiency. You want to tell him but think better of it.

"Sorry," you say at the same time that he says, "Sorry, y'okay?"

His voice is soft and deep. You nod, and he barely glances at you before he tucks in closer to the shelf, as if anticipating for you to pass him.

Instead, you bump into the adjacent shelf and knock a couple Doritos bags to the floor.

"Dammit," you whisper.

Hoodie bends down before you do, startling you with his speed. He puts the chips back. He looks at you, and you look at him.

His face is young, nose crooked like it's been in a lot of fights. He has a scar traveling from his right eye across his face to his lip.

Never judging a book by its cover is great in theory, but this is Gotham. Judgment keeps you safe.

He's cute, though. His lips are pink and full. There's a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose.

But you're not about to interact with anyone more than you need to at a convenience store, so you turn around and hope he doesn't try to approach you.

And it's like Hoodie can hear your thoughts because a moment later, he goes to another aisle, leaving you alone. You relax and peruse the chips in peace.

Cheetos. Are Cheetos worth three dollars and tax, though?

Maybe just a drink.

You go to the fridges and stare, debating between a ginger ale and a Snapple when the bell above the door jingles.

"This is a robbery!"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

You turn and see a guy in a ski mask with a gun pointed at the cashier. The old clerk is shaking and has his hands up. Yeah, you're never coming back here again. Overpriced Cheetos aren't worth it.

But then to your right, you see Hoodie, crouched on the ground. He gestures for you to get low. You hesitate.

"Hey," he says, as quietly as he can. "I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm gonna get us outta here alive, okay? But you gotta trust me a little. C'mere."

Hearing him speak at length, it's clear that Hoodie is Gotham-born and bred. And he's certainly not from the Heights. His drawl is thick and, dare you say, comforting. It's old-school Jersey, like you could walk into a diner and find him chatting with the retirees. The thought startles you.

What was that about books and covers?

You get low like he wants and scurry over to him. He scoots back against the last fridge and gestures for you to do the same.

"This is the blind spot for the cashier," Hoodie whispers. "I don't think he saw us, so you'll be okay here."

You nod. You can't speak. Can't move. Can't breathe.

"Hey." Hoodie tilts his head to find your eyes. His eyes are a brilliant teal. What a pretty color. "Hey, y'alright? Can you make a fist for me?"

You make a loose fist. He nods.

"Good. Now..." He checks around the shelf. It sounds like the clerk is still emptying the register. "Squeeze your fist and inhale. Then release your fist and exhale. Can y'do that?"

You clumsily follow his directions. He makes the fist with you.

"Good, good. Okay. 'S okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to ya, alright?"

You have no idea how he can promise something like that.

"When I push this shelf, run for the other side, okay? And when he's distracted, you'll leave out the front."

Your eyes fly to his in alarm.

"What?" you hiss. "Are you crazy? He'll shoot you!"

"I'm really fast," he says.

Oh, okay. He's insane too. Cool.

"Hurry the fuck up, old man!" the robber shouts. "I will shoot you."

Hoodie glares venomously in his direction. "Can't let 'im get away. Ready?"

No, not ready, definitely not ready!

He pushes a shelf with one leg. It crashes to the floor. Briefly, you wonder if he's ever crushed a watermelon between his thighs. From the size of them, he definitely could crush—

Okay, not the time.

He nudges your arm when you don't move. You book it to the other side of the store like he ordered. The robber clomps across the store, leaving the clerk.

"That was stupid, guy!" the robber shouts. "Really fucking stupid!"

Bang! You yelp and duck.

"What's stupid is your aim," Hoodie growls.

There's a few grunts and a landing punch. By the time you get up, the robber is out cold on the floor. Hoodie is disassembling the gun and unloading the chamber. Then he goes to the clerk.

"Thank you, good boy," the clerk says, still wobbly with fear. "Good Jason. So good."

Jason. A name for your savior.

"It's okay, Mr. Kourakis." Jason keeps talking, but it's not a language you understand. It's... Greek?

Just who is this guy, exactly?

Mr. Kourakis nods, shaky hands grasping Jason's forearms as he steadies himself. Jason comforts him for a moment, then gently extricates himself to retrieve the money from the unconscious robber and return it to the register.

On impulse, you take a Mrs. Fields double chocolate chip cookie from the shelf on your way to the register.

Mr. Kourakis keeps talking, obviously panicked. Jason soothes him in his rumbling voice, picking up the shelf he knocked over with one hand, like he's holding a basketball.

"Sorry, um, did you call the police?" you ask, interrupting their conversation.

Jason glances at you. "No cops. They're messy and inept. I told Mr. Kourakis that I'll take care of this."

Your brows rise. Inept? Looks like your savior has a great vocabulary too.

"And by 'take care of,' you mean...?"

He smiles a little, the scar on his lip stretching white. "Not like that. I meant that, uh, I got a buddy who knows a Bat."

Right, of course. You're four blocks from the Red Hood's territory.

Jason touches Mr. Kourakis' arm and tells him something else in Greek. Mr. Kourakis nods, then wearily flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED. He disappears into the back room after that.

"You can go," Jason says, not unkindly. He types something on his phone. Then he shuts it off and looks at you. "You hurt at all?"

You shake your head. You're still trying to puzzle him out. He's the weirdest Gothamite you've ever met.

"How do you know Greek?" you ask.

You don't know why you're asking questions. You should just take the blessing and leave.

"Study abroad," he says around a smile, like he's telling a joke that you're not privy to.

"...Right. And did you learn how to disarm a robber while you were abroad, too?"

"Nope," he says mildly. "I take jiu-jitsu classes at the Y."

You look at the crumpled robber on the floor. His mask is off and he has a black eye and a drying bloody nose. You doubt they teach that at the Y.

"Thank God for the Y, I guess," you say, turning back to Jason.

He shrugs. "Gotta defend yourself in Gotham."

No arguments there.

"Yeah. And thank you for, um. What you did back there. I got—I've never been held at gunpoint, and I guess I just... I dunno..."

Jason steps forward and makes an aborted gesture, like he was going to touch your arm. He doesn't, though, instead just nodding.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he says tenderly. "'S normal to be scared. You did great."

Jeez, is this guy a counselor? He looks too young to be doing that, though.

"You didn't seem scared," you say.

Jason shrugs, suddenly tense. "Ah, I just hide it well."

"Oh. Well, anyway." You put a few dollars on the counter and hold out the Mrs. Fields cookie. "'Least I can do is buy your cookie."

Jason's eyes widen. "I—y-you don't hafta—"

"It's really no trouble! It's all I can do to thank you. Because you really saved our butts today."

You shake the cookie a little. Jason hesitantly accepts it, then glances at your money on the counter.

"You shouldn't," he says. "This place price-gouges. Chips for three bucks is insane."

You grin. "It really is! But I don't mind. I've kinda lost my appetite, in any case. You deserve a cookie, Jason."

He blinks once-twice-three times at your use of his name. "Oh. It wasn't a big deal."

Is he serious? He can't be. "Of course it was! You risked your life for me. Thank you, seriously."

You start to back up towards the exit. Jason watches you, a mix of bewilderment and bemusement.

"Well, I gotta get home. Feed my cat." You make finger guns. God, you're lame. A good-looking guy saves your life, and you lose all sense. "Thanks again."

"Wait!"

Jason follows you outside, cookie in hand. His mouth is open like he's about to ask a question. You wait expectantly.

"Um." He swallows. "Prince Street."

"What?"

"The bodega on Prince Street. I know the owner. He's got better prices. You can tell him you're my friend. To, y'know, get a discount. Not... not that I think you're—I mean, I don't—"

You smile. Jason cuts himself off, looking a little frustrated.

"You're really sweet," you say. If you were crazier, you might kiss his cheek. "Thanks for the tip. And thanks for today. Take care, Jason."

"Yeah," he says as you walk down the block. "Yeah, you too."

[sexydoffyman]

Weird request but how would TF141+König and Alejandro react to meeting an orphan around 15 years of age who's like extremely talented in engineering, mathematics and physics, like they could build a rocket if they had the materials ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It can be HC, whatever you want! I was thinking maybe said orphan got in trouble with the government for unknowingly building some sort of weapon, maybe it was stolen? Twist that however you wish.

Just ignore this ask if you wanna <3

A KID?

genre: action

characters: König, Simon Riley, John MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle Garrick

A/n: expect a lot more mistakes. Also thinking this needs a second part.

It’s been 6 years now since the war began. You were left stranded. All by yourself. Left on your own by everyone. Living was hard, but you pulled through. You learned how to do a lot of shit since you were there only with yourself for some time. Building stuff. That was your biggest interest.

You were constantly making things. New weapons mostly. You were always moving, never staying in one place for too long. You got brutal throughout the years you were alone. You took the uniform of a dead soldier. To blend in. You were mistaken for a recruit and pulled inside a helicopter by a military dude.

The military was a great provider of food and healthcare. So you just went along with everything they threw at you. Your knowledge of building shit helped out a lot. And even when some dude figured out you were a kid he let you stay.

The same dude put you in a task force with a man he trusted. You were cautious of everyone in there, but at least you had some people who you could trust a bit.

You picked up how things work from the years of pretending to be a soldier. Pretending to be an adult was getting easier and the task force you were assigned to found a place in your heart.

“There’s gotta be a way.” You finally snapped out of thinking about life before the war. You thought that the military would be a great cover. But now all your hope of making it out alive hit zero. You were stuck and with gas slowly filling the room that you and the others were in you knew your chances of survival were low.

You sat in the corner of the room. You had given up a few minutes ago already. The others were still trying to figure something out.

Suddently you felt something inside of you snap. You were not gonna die today. It must’ve been the panicking of the rough men infront of you that made you have that feeling. You started to search for a solution.

You found a small vent. It was too small to fit a grown man in, but you were not a grown man. You took off your gear and crawled into the vent unnoticed by your team.

You finally got to use the skills you gained. You crawled through the vent and dropped down from the ceiling right on the other side of a door that the rest of your team was trying to open. You managed to get inside some kind of an electrical system. You cut some wires and reconnected some other ones. The door opened with a space in between the doors just a centimeter big.

Grabbing a metal piece from the electrical you prayed the door open. You were met with the looks of your crew. You looked down and put your hand above your forehead to block your face. By now all of them realized that you weren't of age.

You ran into the room to grab your gear while your team gave each other a disgusted glance. “We need to get out of here ASAP,” you said as you walked away from the room. Price grabbed you by the shoulder to stop you. You turned to him with your mask on now.

“How old are you?” he was looking at you worriedly while he said that. You didn’t know what to answer and so after a few stutters you answered “Classified” This only made them feel more curious.

It has been days since that mission and nobody brought up the fact that you were a kid. You did notice that Price stopped shouting orders at you and started just saying them in a normal calm tone. Soap was making more small talk with you than usual. Ghost was staying closer to you, knowing you might not be able to fend off an enemy. Gaz was making sure to double-check your gear.

When you teamed up with Mexican special forces and met Alejandro you were given tasks that you’d be on with multiple people.

When you were stranded from the team, finding your way to a spot they could locate you at, you met another dude. Austrian and huge. Big dude. He was your enemy, but it didn’t take him long to find out that an adult dude would have a little more strength than you did. He forced your mask off and found out that you were in fact a kid.

Instead of killing you, he spared you. Helping you locate your tram instead of them having to look for you.

Would you survive the next missions? That you don’t know. But you do know that you don’t have to worry about pretending to be an adult.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

It started back when he was 16.

His parents found out about him and Vlad thanks to the fruitloop being an idiot and practically outing them both. Danny was so lucky that he had planned for a situation like this. He had go-bags ready with a few changes of clothes, a thermos, some weapons, a star projector, lots of money from Sam and enough medical supplies to make a hospital jealous.

It was a good thing too, after crippling the GIW and destroying all the gear they and the Fentons had they destroyed their research and everything ghost related. Vlad at this point was already dead so he wasn't much of a concern.

Dannys had landed in an alley in a new dimension, only problem now was the parting shot his mother gave him on his back. Due to the placement of it Danny couldn't reach to treat it properly and he didn't know anyone in this dimension who could help him.

Thats when his ghost sense went off. He groaned, hoping he wouldn't have to fight a new ghost in this state when a man in a red helmet (Mask?) walked up to him and motioned for peace.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The man said gently, "I just wanna look at that injury, maybe help."

Danny stared at him. He didn't feel anything off about the guy and Danny prided himself on being a good judge of character. "Okay." He scooted himself around so his back was exposed to the stranger.

"Wow, you're really not from around here." Danny stiffened, had he been tricked? The man made no moves to hurt him, just got to work tending to his wound. The man was swift, and aside from the slight sting of an ointment he didn't recognize there was no pain at all.

Once Danny was all patched up the guy made to leave, "Wait!" Danny called out and the man halted, "Who are you?" The man turned his head to look back at him, still facing away from him, "Red Hood."

As it turned out, Red Hood was the new up and coming crime lord who everyone was talking about. He came seemingly out of nowhere and was making a lot of waves in Gothams underbelly. Gotham...so this was Dannys new haunt.

Danny wanted to protect it but...he wanted to protect Red Hood even more. So when he heard about Red Hood forming a gang he made a decision. He gathered up materials to make his own supervillian outfit- basically an all black outfit with a long hooded coat and combat boots- and to add the finishing touch he put on a all white gas mask that he had made himself, complete with a voice modulator, night vision, heat vision, etc. If Hood ever wanted him to prove it was him he could make his mask glow using his ghost powers. Not that it was needed. Hood seemed to be able to sense him in a similar way that Danny could but in a much much smaller range.

With that being said, hoods men didn't trust him at first, which was fair considering he just started randomly appearing at their operations and helping them out...by force usually. They weren't sure what to make of him but Danny didn't want to go through the usual goon enlistment process as Hood would want to know his name and face and everything else and Phantom was...well a phantom.

Danny liked to hide, even in plain sight. He couldn't deny the little game of cat and mouse they had was fun. Hood would try to follow him home or track him or get him to take off the mask and Phantom would dodge his attempts every time.

It took a while, but Red Hood did eventually come to trust him, going so far as to make Danny his right hand man after 3 years of working together, though that may also be because he had rarely failed any of the tasks Hood had given him.

Maybe thats why he never told any of the bats about him. He had picked up that there was something between Hood and the bats but he never could figure out what it was without prying into his bosses personal life. Still, it was rather shocking when Red Hood showed up one day with a large red bat symbol splayed across his chest.

It also made him look at how freaking chiseled his boss was. He couldn't count how many times he had to drag his eyes away from his abs and chastise himself for thinking that way.

Danny was in love with a man whos face he would never see. But that was fine. He was happier standing by this man's side and yearning than he ever was back in Amity and it wasn't like Hood knew his face or name either.

-----------

He felt like a halfa though an incomplete one. He had a core but it felt hollow, like the soul was forcibly removed somehow and only emotions remained. Hood gained a bad reputation for flying into a monstrous rage but was always calm when Danny was near, a fact that even Red Hood himself seemed to pick up on.

Hood began to fall for his second in command pretty quickly, always trying to feed him and take care of him (as is his love language) while Danny was openly obsessed with assuring Hoods safety and well being even going so far as to use his powers (that no one knows about) to overshadow a computer and hack into the bats systems to make sure Hood was okay after a prolonged period of him being MIA.

The bats are freaked but Danny being Danny gets lucky and they always seem to miss his trail by a hair. Lucky ghost.

Things start going sideways when Fenton tech starts showing up in this new dimension only for Danny to find out his parents have remade the portal and are looking for him. The bats are being hunted by his parents and and the now rogue government agency the GIW. Danny tries to explain things to Hood without compromising his own secrets but once the newest Robin gets captured and Hood freaks Danny puts everything on the line to go rescue the stabby bird.

[thephantomsdream]

so I've been reading real published romance books and they cannot fill the void that ao3 and company do fill, but they did give me an idea. ok, lmfao, hear me out. (I've had this in my drafts for way too long, i decided to release it because why tf not)

content: alien!141, soulmates!141, abduction, intergalactic human trafficking, space shit; very vague idea of anything ever; probably made up alien names; writer is at work while dealing with annoying costumers so it's rushed and dumb.

imagine:

Good ol' you, in your house, unaware that in the deep, vast universe, trafficking also existed. Not long ago, a reptilian race found out about our warm bodies, interesting features and intelligent yet primitive brains, and started to abduct and sell men and women to rich buyers. It was good business, especially considering our side of the universe wasn't even aware of extraterrestrial life, so they couldn't even guess where they disappeared! The treaty and all intergalactic laws were vague about us. "Let them be" meaning "Let them fuckers figure their shit out, lol idk".

Well, as you can understand, the Sheh'deauz (lmfao stay with me) decided to in fact not let us be. So back to lovely you, yeah?

Home alone, playing videogames or something, when suddently you see some flashes of light out the window. It was weird considering it wasn't raining but you remained calm, as you assumed maybe a storm is approaching? Mainly, you couldn't give a shit but the moment you heard scratching and hissing outside your door, you panicked. Long story short, your house slowly started filling with an invisible gas that just made you pass out, but you did see your door opening, same weird blue-white light emanating from under it as it did, and a scaly leg entering your home as you fell on the floor.

You figured, as the genius that you were, that you were, in fact, not dreaming as you spent many hours (days? felt like days) in a cage. Very oddly technologically advanced. In another strike of genius, and of course, after seeing your kidnappers, you figured it was a spaceship and you were in some deep sci-fi shit. (maybe after laughing and asking them where are the hidden cameras. i would...)

After throwing tantrums and having the ugly multi-colored creatures mock you and hiss at you, you kinda gave up and sat by the very human bed you've been given and allowed time to pass. You were given food every so often, a toilet nearby, water at your disposal. But you feared for your life.

Well, let me tell you something. You have the luckiest misfortune of all, really. Or maybe, just maybe, things are meant to be this way. Maybe it was all meant to happen like this. Allow me to explain.

In another corner of the universe, four of the greatest warriors of the Intergalactic Army frowned at a holographic screen. A female alien, older, still beautiful, ethereal looking, skin creamy white with some lavender edges and striking blue eyes was frowning back.

"You're fucking kidding me." Their captain said (in a different language than ours but your writer here is multi-lingual, don't worry), getting closer to the screen. She just nodded, rubbing her forehead.

"Where is that again?" Asked another.

"So like—" a third one, this one with a distinct accent compared to the others, tilted his head incredulously. "They're our cousins genetically?"

"You can say so." She groaned. "The Council decided to not touch that part of the galaxy. They are being observed. Fucking hell! They were going on the right path."

"If they don't destroy their own planet before." The captain muttered, voice tired and coarse. In his many, many years lived, he's seen it happen again and again. Greed and stupidity almost whipped their race, so he's been following the Terrans close-by, as close as a mere Intergalactic Task Force Captain (stick with me lmfao) could follow.

"So what's the plan?" The tallest one asked, mask made of what others assumed was one of his most dangerous prey's skull was placed on his face.

"We give them hell." Captain commanded, Laswell nodding.

"Stay close, at the outskirts of their galaxy. We intercept any package and find their buyers."

"What do we do with our lil cousins then?"

"Eliminate any witnesses."

Shit went down really quick. You figured they were preparing for something as the guards by your cell somehow summoned some advanced looking chairs from the walls to strap themselves on and hissed at you mockingly, as they've done before. You just sat in a corner, by the bed, and wanted to cry. You were going through all stages of grief every few hours and it was getting exhausting. You were just now starting to understand how dire your situation was and how little chances you had of going home.

They turned off the main lights and a thousand scenarios crossed your mind. It was as if they were bracing for something. You frowned as you saw the guards tense as some alien hieroglyphics appeared on a holographic screen. It looked... like a countdown... You grasped the bed, trying to brace yourself for something. And good that you did because it felt as if the ship collapsed with something.

It basically shook you off to the ground, and while you'd think this was supposed to happen, you quickly realize it wasn't since the guards unstrapped themselves from the chairs and started shrieking as alarms suddently blared. After that? Seconds and it was over. Two white blasts ended them both, hitting them exactly in the middle of their ugly skulls. You did not hear any footsteps but you saw a shadow approaching your cell, so you scurried closer to your bed and now presumably magic shield that will block blasts that melt alien skulls.

The barriers from your cell unlocked, sliding to the sides and someone jumped in front of you. Someone big, dressed sleekly in black, although you could swear the edges of his frame looked transparent for a second. It was big, yet had the complexity of a human so you stayed locked in place, big scared eyes on the person pointing a big son-of-a-bitch gun at you. You heard it growl and speak something shortly, and the hairs on your whole body pricked.

World stopped for Price as he cracked another neck, just after locking eyes with the leader of this "cargo" ship. He was about to take a step forward to gently guide this person towards personal enlightenment by confessing all the information they needed, even if it would be involuntarily, when Soap spoke... well, growled just one word in their comms.

"Mate."

[tiredspacedragon]

Ranking the Metru Kanoka symbols by intelligibility

#1. Ko-Metru: First place goes to Ko-Metru for a fantastically clear image representing the district. The clearly discernible shape of the Knowledge Towers, the Metru's most iconic feature, even cleverly arranged to match the silhouette of the the Coliseum on the Metru Nui skyline, and the two dots on the sides possibly representing Metru Nui's dual suns/moons, emphasizing Ko-Metru's focus on astronomy, astrology, and all else to do with tracking the motion of the heavens. It doesn't get much better than this, folks.

#2. Le-Metru: Coming in at a close second place is Le-Metru, its symbol instantly recognizable as a collection of Chutes filled with cargo, a simple and elegant means of of showing of Le-Metru's status as the transportation hub of the city. Straightforward and to the point, exactly what we want to see.

#3. Onu-Metru: Third place starts to get a little more abstract, but the artistic intent remains fairly clear. The Onu-Metru symbol appears to depict a hallway of the Archives, with exhibits on either side and a steady stream of Matoran visitors and/or workers filing through the corridor. It is slightly less obvious than the two above, but if understood correctly, it is an excellent representation of exactly what Onu-Metru is all about.

#4. Po-Metru: Fourth place is where we start to see these symbols go off the rails, and where I'm going to have to start providing visuals to illustrate my interpretations. Po-Metru's symbol had me stumped for a long time. It is carved in the notch that held the Po-Metru Great Disk, but that isn't much to work with. I think I've finally figured it out though. I believe it speaks to the Po-Matoran's sculpture work, specifically one of their favourite subjects: maskless faces.

To my eye, the Po-Metru symbol appears to be six of these^ pieces arranged in a circle, or at least faces of similar shape. If that is indeed the case, then I commend the artistry, and the choice to use it as Po-Metru's symbol, as using the Po-Matoran's art to represent them is perfect. However it loses points for being less immediately recognizable than the preceding three symbols.

#5. Ga-Metru: And in fifth place, Ga-Metru veers further into obscurity. While simple and elegant, this symbol lacks any easily recognizable features to connect it to aspects of Ga-Metru's culture or architecture. At best, I can offer theories.

Perhaps the top-heavy shape of the blue section is in reference to the Ga-Metru lighthouses? It's possible, but seems unlikely as the shape is not an exact match and only bears superficial similarities.

Then perhaps the connected circles represent the connected pathways here at the Protodermis Falls, and likely across many other of the Metru's canals? Or even the long bridge from the coast to the island where the Great Temple sits? These possibilities seem more likely to me, but not enough to say it is either for certain. Regardless, the fact that the best I can do is offer some maybes is enough to land Ga-Metru squarely at the bottom of the list, kept out of last place only by...

#6. Ta-Metru: What is this. What-- What am I even looking at here? Is that a disk launcher? An eclipse? Is it meant to be the foundries pumping out the clouds? Is it an extreme close up of Lhikan's Hau or some other mask?

I don't know, I just don't know. I'll grant you that out of all six Metru, Ta-Metru is the most lacking in terms of iconography; the Great Furnace is not a terribly inspired building, nor are molten Protodermis vats exactly visually striking, but there had to be something that could have been done. If it is meant to be a mask, that's actually a fantastic idea. Kanohi are Ta-Metru's primary export, they'd be the perfect way to represent the Metru. But if it is a mask (zoomed in way too far), it's not at all recognizable as one, or as anything else for that matter. And had all six Metru's symbols been similarly abstract, that wouldn't be a problem! There's nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned Shape. But when at least three of the other symbols do such a quality job of showing off aspects of life and work in their Metru, Ta-Metru's symbol being so undefined places it firmly at the bottom. Last place.

[fartcushion]

What Are Friends For?

'Oh yeh, this has done it' I thought as I finished the last slice of pizza. Extra meat and extra cheese, the greasier the better. This was on top of of the full fry up I'd had for breakfast. The cabbage stew for lunch. Topped off with a protein shake. Not that I'd been to the gym today, that wasn't the point. I'd just had one, on top of all that heavy food, to get myself nice and gassy. My stomach was bloated with gas and it was starting to bubble away inside.

I have been planning this day for a while now. Ever since I worked out my friend, Joel, had a fart fetish. At first I'd thought it was just the usual, gay guy fancying his straight best friend. I didn't mind, he was free to lust after my ass. Nothing would happen, but he was free to look. But I realised he liked it more than just to look at. I'm a gassy guy and my blasts can clear a room, but not Joel. He'd always make a comment on them. Hed sit on the floor next to me, said it was "more comfortable". No amount of farts would shift him. He'd just get closer through the night.

Now he'd never admit it to me, he was too shy. I felt bad for the guy. He didn't have much luck with pulling guys, maybe his fetish made it hard. So I'd decided to help him out. I planned a day of food that I knew would aggravate my stomach, get me all gassed up, and invited Joel over to watch a film.

He arrived on time, which was great because I could not hold these in for much longer. As he sat down in his usual spot on the floor I went to the TV and turned it on, making sure to silently release a fart and crop dust him as I walked past. He didn't say anything but I caught him staring at my ass as I passed. So on the way back to the sofa I turned and stood in front of him as I loaded Netflix, letting him get a good view.

Releasing another small silent fart, only this time in his face, I looked down. "Do you need anything?"

"No...no...I'm good. Shall we start the film?"

I sat down on the sofa next to him and pressed play. The film hadn't been going for more than 5mins when I let out an enormous fart.

PPPPPRRRRBBBBBB

After holding them in and only releasing the silent wisps so far, this one had erupted out. More than I'd planned.

"That was a big one!" Joel joked, laughing a little. "Gassy today? Thought I smelt one when you got up"

"Yeh, my stomach is rough. Sorry about that"

"It's fine. You know it doesn't bother me".

The smell of the fart lingered, it had a meaty scent, one of my better ones.

But I was just getting going. I let out a couple more silent ones to really fill the room. Letting Joel stew in my fumes. Never once saying anything. Happily sitting there, watching the film he'd say of course, but still he was inhaling pure methane. I knew my suspicions were right, no one else would have stayed in the room, let alone sit so close to the source.

It was time to push it. I let out a triple assault.

Prrrrbbbb

Pbbbbtttt

PPPBBTTT

Laughing as I unloaded I began wafting the air. "Oh man, they stink! Here, breathe through this", and I handed him a cushion of the other end of the couch.

Joel took it, faked using it as a mask for a second, then just gave me his innocent smile and placed it behind him. "Ha, thanks, but I'm fine, I'm used to your butt bombs".

Damn this guy loves my gas. Needed to crack him before I eventually ran out. I wanted him to openly embrace it, not just sneak sniffs from the side. I decided to give him a little treat to tide him over, until he was ready to open up.

The farts were now putrid, even for me and I'm used to my own flavour. The milk from the protein shake was really kicking in. But I was able to let out some quiet wet ones. I moved the cushion next to me down a bit so half of it was under my ass. Then for 10mins released a constant stream of silent farts on to it.

Casually I pulled it out and passed it to Joel, need another cushion? I could feel how warm it was from the farts and being flattened under my big ass.

Joel looked like he was going to decline it, then the smell must have hit him. Could have sworn his eyes glazed over, he took it and placed it behind his head but turning so his face was pressed up against the scented fabric. He wasn't even facing the film now.

I watched as huffed on the cushion, away in his own little world. The first cushion he had behind his back was pulled out and placed over his crotch to cover, I assume, evidence he was pitching a tent. I was thrilled.

"Hey, Joel, I have a gift for you"

"What is..." Joel began before being interrupted as I slid down the sofa and turned so his face was mms from my hole

PPPPPRRRRBBBBBB

My fart exploded in his face. I swear it blew his hair.

Joel looked shocked. "Damn, man, what you do that for?"

"It was a gift, I knew you'd like it"

"I don't like your farts"

"Sure you do! You're always sitting next to me, despite how gassy I am. Tonight I have been actively butt bombing this room and you have been vaccuming them all up. Plus you have been glued to a literal fart cushion for 10mins. Mate I paused the film and you never noticed!"

It was quite cute to see him get all flustered. He went a little red too.

"I don't...I just don't mind..."

"Don't worry about it" I said. "It doesn't bother me. I mean I've had no issue when you walked behind me on the stairs so you can stare at my fat ass, though I suppose you were back there sniffing it secretly. I don't mind when you make jokes about it. We're friends, it's just fun for me, and something you really want."

Joel didn't say anything, I may have doubted my instinct had it not been for one fact. He still hadn't moved. My ass remained hovering inches from his face.

"Honestly, just admit..."

Prrrbbb

"...you have..."

Pffftttt

"...a fart fetish".

PPRRRRRRPPPBBBBB

With each toxic blast Joel closed his eyes and sniffed deeply. When the last fart ended he looked up at me. Eyes watering. Clearly conflicted to unload his biggest secret. As seconds ticked like an eternity, the silence lingering along with the smell of my farts in the air, Joel eventually reached for his cock and gave it a gentle squeeze. I could see it pressed hard against the waistband of his jeans. That moment of pleasure must have tipped him over, he looked at my ass and whispered, "I have a fart fetish". And with that he dove in, sniffing the back of my joggers and getting his nose up in my crack. "Thank you!"

I lay there, proud of myself as Joel pigged out. "You're welcome...

PPPPPRRRRRRTTTTTTT

...what are friends for?"

[court-jobi]

Backpack Privileges

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

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (biker! Pro-hero reader, some afab pronouns used)

Words: 3.2K

Rating: T+ (language, bc obviously)

Warnings: Pro-Hero Bakugou/Pro-Hero Reader, cursing as a love language, fluffy flirting and teasing, mutual pining, YEARNING, grumpy/sassy sunshine, give me soft Bakugou

Summary:

You loved sunset drives, and have teased your coworker here about the thrill that even a simple beach drive can bring– enough to corral him into making plans to accompany you sometime and see for himself. Plans anyone else with eyes and a working knowledge of chemistry would call a ‘date’… but clearly neither of you could toughen up and call that what this is. But the fact remains that you of all people convinced the Katsuki Bakugou-the man behind ‘Dynamight’s mask- to go on after-hours ride with you. And he's looking real nice in that helmet...

A/N: Bikertok has me in a chokehold on this one, babes. Meant to be read as gender-neutral as possible, but if you're like me and are itching for the idea of a fem!biker pro hero catching Kacchan's eye, then buckle up, buttercup~

It's been a minute posting, and my first fic back is for a new fandom? Who am I??

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

Read on AO3

“First time going for a drive,” you got comfy on your seat- a bit closer to the throttle than you’d  normally be, “Nervous at all?”

“Tch, what do I have to be nervous about? You're not planning to wreck our asses, are you?”

“Suppose that brings us to safety first~” you muttered all the same and passed your rider -Katsuki Bakugou, the man behind ‘Dynamight’s mask- a helmet. He looked it distastefully while you donned yours: a steely blue that matches your current choice in quirk-fueled mech you're both about to set out on. 

“How's this damn thing supposed to fit?!”

You flipped up your visor to him, as you affix your -now backup- helmet to your jaw. 

“That's my newer one. The strap’s on the bottom– other side. Other other side.” Cheeks pushing up and all but confirming a smirk underneath, you poked fun at his expense, “I made sure to remove some of the crucial safety padding inside to make room for that hair of yours. Couldn’t bear to muss that up, yeah?”

A light growl emanated from him as he forced the thing into his head.  You'd done no such thing, of course. But even still, he flipped up the visor to glare at you, only to watch you bat your eyes at him then shut it back into place just as fast. 

The Bluetooth pairing between your helmets failed to hide his soft threat, 

“Shut up, angel eyes..”

 Heard that. 

As casual and in-control as you feel right now, you can't help but hold some nerves yourself… but not about the ride ahead of you. Piloting any kind of bike, car, or war machine that you could manifest with your quirk left you sitting right in the driver's seat and in your element. You loved sunset drives, and have teased your coworker here about the thrill that even a simple beach drive can bring– enough to corral him into making plans to accompany you sometime and see for himself. Plans he agreed to, and showed up ten minutes early to honor. Plans he even texted you about first thing this morning, as if you'd forget.

Plans anyone else with eyes and a working knowledge of chemistry would call a ‘date’… but clearly neither of you could toughen up and call that what this is. 

It's far too fragile and new of a thing to call it that, what you two have been feeling. You pull to each other like a magnet– both on and off the field. Maybe after some 100km/h winds and a healthy adrenaline boost, the sights from Mustafu Bay Bridge can break the ice where your banter and teasing couldn't. 

The constant hum of your quirk warming your body coupled with anticipation of Bakugou mounting the bike behind you brought your hands to drum absently atop the center hub of your bike– right where a gas tank would normally be. 

Now to see what he does with his hands. 

“Now we’re gonna take the freeway up here,” you call back to him, visor still up so he copies to see you better, “but I won't start drifting till you're cool enough with the feel, alright? Just lean into me, nothing shaky. No sudden moves.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

“You’ll tap me here if you need me to ease up?”

“Yes, mother.”

You smirked, adjusting your side mirrors, noting how he just flattened his hands on his thighs, aside yours. 

“--And you might have to get fresh with me eventually, ‘Dynamight’. It gets fast…”

“Eugh– none of that.”

You chuckled, but grasped his wrist to show him the inset handles he could hold onto instead of you, if he’d rather. Either way, he'd have to lean forward onto you to reach them at some point. 

But he'd learn that soon enough, because at his chiding for you to ‘get on with it already’, you heeled at the kickstand, pushed off, and forced his chest right onto your back with a grunt. 

This was going to be fun. 

The sky was just now starting to turn its lovely colors from behind the cloud breaks, but light poles and power lines still cut into the view down here by the business district. 

“YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY BE DOING THE SPEED LIMIT, ARE YOU?! EVERYONE’S PASSING US!”

Squinting at his yell over the road noise, you gave the pro hero some grace but also assured him firmly, 

“Call me cautious, hon, but I'm getting up to speed for my ‘backpack’s sake, not mine. And I can hear you just fine. The mic will pick you up~”

“... Oh.”

Giggling yourself, you revved up a few ticks and noted how he held firm to the handles. The first couple lane changes he acclimated like a champ, which gave you confidence to finally reach the top permissible speed. Maybe you could risk another five over, once you got out of city ordinances with those darned speed bump monitors… 

In a few clicks, you'd reach the offramp to the beach expressway, so you checked your mirrors for Bakugou’s face. The helmet he wore was tinted, but not fully opaque like yours. You could see his wary brows as he had his sights locked down onto the passing dashes of your lane, willing you to stay within them while silently stewing over it. 

“You good back there?” Your voice carries through assuring, but with a level of calm to prove to him all was operating fine. 

Brought out of his head, Bakugou flitted his gaze ahead, then down to where you'd tilted your head. Proving you were listening. 

“Yeah. M’good.”

He squeezed his arms in a little, to answer back. A step in the right direction. 

“Knew you'd be a natural,” you praised, earning a proud roll of his arms, “now we’re gonna make this loop, so just turn in with me, like you did before.”

“Got it.”

Rounding the exit, Bakugou admittedly might have pushed his lean too much  at first– not accounting for how much you lean and how much he weighs, so he immediately righted himself with a stiffness. Thankfully, you slow on every one of these to level out the overcorrect. And hey, at least his surprise caused him to latch that left arm around your waist, so that was… not unwelcome. 

Straightening out to the road, he reluctantly returned his hands to where they once were, but settled his posture  down onto your back comfortably.

He truly was doing well. Bakugou takes to new challenges with eagerness that betrays any hesitation. You count on him talking a big game to give you an ease in expectation for most missions you've provided support on. It's cocky, but confident, and oftentimes not without a good bit of truth and experience to back it up. When he calls out to you on patrol, it might be loud and proud, but it comes from a place of valuing teamwork- never once making you feel unappreciated for your services. It’s something he even confessed to you that he had to intentionally learn before entering the workplace. 

‘You shoulda seen me in high school. Pretty much a bully. Y’can't operate as a team that way all the time, though. But here I am- I'm on track to get top ten on the leaderboard according to Jeanist. “Even assholes can get the job done sometimes”– which, YES, is a compliment, by the way! Seems he’s finally thinkin’ better of me and given’ me some respect!’

Gee, can't imagine you being a hothead at all. 

Tell of his talent and accolades are well earned, you have to agree. To the asshole comment, you weren't so sold. Sure, he was harsh and pointed with just about anyone who throws a contrary opinion at him. Bakugou's reputation preceded him for not being the best to gel with.

But for all that bravado, the minute you teamed up after your first joint mission at the agency, you noticed how he cut the edge with you. Most times, he may growl and grunt at worst, but Bakugou usually spoke to you pretty even-keeled. Careful, you might call it. Wouldn’t call it ‘friendly’, but kind enough for you to choose to stick around him: make the offer to him for some company, talk through your routes together under the guise that you need a fresh set of eyes, even seek him out after hours when he opened up the invite to you to come for dinner and drinks with some alumni friends of his. 

…gentle enough for you to get a soft spot for the pro hero you'd have bet six months ago would’ve blown your head off without a second thought. 

Now, that same hero carries his head higher behind you. He’s not obsessed with watching the road anymore, taking comfort enough in your driving so he could watch the flock of geese pass over your left, with a hand rooted on hip for support. 

The thought warmed you, yet you didn't dare speak and break his bubble. Even pros deserved time to hit pause and just clear the head with a drive. That’s just what you loved to do, too.

Your chosen destination was mere minutes away now. Finding yourself slowing and cutting over to the beach access road, Bakugou’s grunts grew uneasy along with the bumps in the road. For a split second you think you should have warned him to ‘watch the rocky bits’, but like all things, he's a trooper and didn't say a word. 

Sliding onto the packed down sand, you adjusted your bike’s wheel type by sense alone to add a bit more traction in order to drive smoothly. With a low hum of acceleration, you were off in no time back to a comfortable speed: ocean to your left, sky ahead, dunes shielding you on your right from the rest of the city nightlife. You leave treads in your dust, but they are soon washed away as the incoming tide chases you. 

It’s here on familiar terrain that you sit up a bit more relaxed, free of asphalt and multi-lane traffic. Most folks must be out having dinner plans, so the beach is yours until the night beach walkers arrive. Flipping your visor up, the wind immediately hit your lashes, but the smell was incredible. Always was. 

You heaved a cleansing breath happily, reveling in the smooth thrum of the bike beneath you- perfect conditions and company. 

“Honest truth? I could get paid pennies for my transport work for all I care,” you confessed over a cry of some gulls, “--as long as I have enough time to get away for views like this.” You swung a relaxed arm out to the waves foaming alongside, “This–  is worth more than all the big bucks.”

You felt Bakugou’s hum on your back before you heard it. He mimicked your gesture too, making waves through the air as childlike as you could picture. From your rearview, you caught him smiling across the sea to the horizon line. 

He agrees with ease, “Yeah. Sure is a sight,” 

“Worth the wait, huh?”

Bakugou centered back, checking for you in the rearview mirror. With a little jerk of his head (a swallow), that gentler, gravelly voice he kept for you answered back, 

“Definitely.”

That sweet spot flipped in your stomach, even as his brows firmed up again and flicked one up at you,

“Bout time, I mean. You were holding out on me.”

There it was again: that pathetic pulse in your chest at his brand of teasing. 

Taking a breather from the constant exertion of your abilities, you cut all energy off to the fueling of the mech- letting it coast to a full stop after boosting up the ramp to the fishing overlook. It took you a couple manual strides of your feet to get you close to the edge before kicking the locking gear in place. 

Bravery you typically reserve for villain encounters and public speaking is summoned from your lips. You’re proud of yourself, but no less jittery inside,

“Tell ya a secret.”

“Oh yeah?”

You took off your helmet, but dare not look back. 

“If I ever take a hiatus from hero work,” you share, “I wanna figure out how I can drift on water. I already started making some notes after that Support Course workshop. Imagine how sick that'd be, right? Could do a lot of good with that. Hybrid water rescues, marine chases..”

“--If you don't get nabbed by sharks first,” Bakugou fired back with his helmet off now to match.

You had to laugh at the danger he presented, 

“Really? A quirk-ridden world and a villain presence more prominent than any generation before ours– and the idea of sharks scares you?”

Bakugou caught your stare defensively, “Sharks? Hell no! Death by sharks? What a dumbass way to die. I'd rather go out with-”

“--with a bang. Of course you would.”

To your sassy quip back, Bakugou simply smirked, laid a boldly set foot on either side of the bike to steady himself– and absolutely tickled the daylights out of your sides. 

After a decent punishment, you only settled your shrieks as he switched from assault to detainment, pulling you tight to his chest. 

He’s not actually offended; not by the way he’s locked his hand solidly around his own wrist to keep you in place.

“Got a smart mouth, you know that?” Bakugou snarked in your ear.

You do consider yourself a decent personality hire, after all. 

“I think it makes me fun at parties~”

“...You’re a good driver though.”

Even softer, you give a work of thanks. Bakugou doesn’t say more and doesn’t let go.

The sight of the sun finally started slipping out of the skyline, a wash of gold and pink and orange surrounding you both. At this time of year, the last bit of  setting sun isn’t enough to warm you through, even outfitted in leather and thick cordura. The only bits of exposed skin you showed were where your jacket opened to flash your shirt collar, and the tops of your hands your gloves couldn't cover– hands Bakugou was currently keeping warm as he comfortably held you. At rest for once, you wonder. 

“This is.. really nice,” the blond shared after a few centering breaths. 

From your angle, you couldn't really look back to see him. You tried, but his grip tightened slightly, so you sensed he was likely holding you this way on purpose. 

Giving in, you agreed and laid back. After all, you didn't think he got this sentimental unless he was truly relaxed– a marvel itself. 

Letting out a soothed breath yourself, you leaned inward, towards his neck, “Really is.”

“Mean it, y'know.” He tried again, “Not just gettin’ us out here. You're…  really damn good at your job. The agency’s lucky you’re the one who’s always there for pickups. I almost ate it with that landing last week, if you hadn't caught me in your– truck bed– tank.. whatever that  speed demon thing was you made–”

‘Inst-Transit’ was quite the desired quirk for heroes in evac-centered roles, like yours. What set you apart was the ‘razzle-dazzle’ you offered in that you could make your own custom vehicles; not just manipulate current cars to your will. No two were truly alike and could be altered even in the moment; the vehicle you set out at the start of the mission could very well have morphed over the course of the operation and come out completely different by the end.

Years upon years taught you all manner of land mechs to model your rides after, months more to change them mid-mission to accommodate transporting heroes four times your weight– plus any civilians you pick up along the way.

“-and can't forget how you caught up to that runner in just two blocks, too. Damn.”

For Bakugou to compliment you meant more than surface-deep flattery. He knows the inner technicality of how you perform. How you think. His words carry weight.

“Well, that’s awfully high praise. You’re not just trying to keep me in your good graces so I take you back to the office safely?”

Your ‘backpack’ bristles, but doesn’t shift away to let go, 

“M’tryna compliment you, dummy.”

Bakugou’s trademark temper sufficiently tested, you eased his embarrassment.

“Oh then, my apologies. Thank you~”

This satisfied him enough to take another cleansing breath of salt air. You studied the railing with particular interest, 

“--honestly, I'm just flattered you said yes to this.”

Bakugou tips his lips close to your crown, speaking more to your hairline than the space over your shoulder, “D’you think I'd say no to you?”

“I.. didn't know what you'd say,” you reasoned, “I mean, you are incredibly nice to me. We work decently together. I normally just consider myself lucky to be in that portion of the populace who you don't wanna blow up, and just roll along with it, but… this sorta thing… outside of work? The more I look at it, it’s– not just taking a break like we do all the time. I dunno. Could be reading things wrong, but it– definitely feels more and more like a-”

“A date.”

“Well… yeah.”

“... do you wanna call this a date.”

Your position was brutal- not being able to look at him. But looking down in your few moments of thought gave you your answer:

Bakugou’s thumb was caressing that little pocket of skin at your wrist. His pride’s keeping his mouth shut, but his powerful hands are silently swiping. Nudging you to ‘please say yes’. 

He needed you to simply say the word, it seems. 

“...I sure hope so, ‘Mr. Dynamight.”

Above you, your pro hero hid his reaction– but not the smile in his voice, 

“Katsuki. When it’s just you and me.”

A fluttering exhale left you. Upon hearing his first name (soon to be added to as your phone contact by a comically horrendous candid you already have of him), you’re now content to just rest against him; out of sight and up against his built chest. 

“N’I guess that means only one thing left to seal the deal, then.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Bakugou chipped your chin up and into place for him to set a firm, doting kiss to your forehead– before asking, 

“Hungry?”

Sufficiently charmed and encouraged at how the night’s going, your smirk turned much sweeter now, “I could eat~”

Crimson eyes softened at your sated reaction, proud of himself no doubt.  

“You get us there, I'm paying. No buts.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Your helmets donned, you set your sights further down the beach for the least populated popcorn shrimp stand you could manage, and backed up the bike with careful steps. 

Bakugou held onto your hips easily now… 

“Hey,” Katsuki called through the helmet, “Whatm’I supposed to call you when we’re off hours, huh?”

You shook your head, still beside yourself that you have the ‘Lord Explosion Murder God’ at your heels and hanging on your every word:

“I think if you call me anything other than ‘dummy’, I’m gonna assume you hate me!”

That got a belly laugh out of Katsuki.

“HAH! ‘Pretty Thing’ it is.”

[zerobasekazuha]

“Shhh quiet we can’t get caught!”

Pairing: AMAB Venture x Fem reader

Warnings: Oral (fem giving) cursing

Genre: Fluff/Smut

A/N: So I came across this tweet in Twitter from the same user who inspired me to do the pizza person Venture. They have such amazing ideas and y’all should def follow the twitter @/staplesquid thank you for the ideas!!

Who told Sloan that this would be a great idea?Oh right, Y/n did. So how did they get stuck in this situation where they are body to body pressed against their best friend in between a very small alleyway with their hand over her mouth? And to top it off with police who are looking for them. Well it started earlier on that day..

Y/n was an artist. They used many different materials and techniques. Her art style changed ever so often. This point in time it was graffiti. She brought multiple cans in different colors. She researched spots in town and even asked around on online forums and eventually came across the perfect spot. However it was in one of the most crime ridden spots in the city. And with no other choice she contacted Sloan to come with her.

Sloan just finished in the shower their hair was dripping wet as the windows and the mirror was fogged up. They noticed their phone light up, quickly turning down the music they had blasting then right back up to the main volume. It was a text message. They took a quick glance at it only reading the words city and alone.

It alerted them and they quickly picked up their phone trying not to drop it in the toilet as well before opening it and reading over the text. They took a sigh of relief when they read the entire text. Y/n asked if they wanted to go to a certain part of the city together because she didn’t want to go alone. They quickly sent a text saying that they would and they would be finished getting ready.

Y/n told them to wear baggy clothing and that she had a gas mask for them. And soon enough there they were taking the number 67 bus down to the worst part of the city. They looked unsuspecting enough. Two people wearing baggy clothing, one with a larger tote bag and the other carrying yet a smaller one. Both however wearing black masks. Any normal person would think they were a couple. Eventually they got off at a stop down the street from where the location was.

It seemed to be a poverty stricken street. There were deteriorating homes and people sleeping outside. Depressing to look at. The streets were also a mess with all kinds of trash around. Sloane looked at Y/n and wondered why the hell she was bringing them out here. “So…Sketchy part of town…? Going to explain why we’re out here?” They asked not knowing what was even in her tote bag.

“You know how I mentioned I wanted to do something new with my art?” Y/n asked smiling at them. They nodded wondering what point she was getting at. “Well we’re going to do some graffiti.” She said quieter than before. Sloan was completely surprised. They didn’t expect this from her. Especially considering that graffiti was a crime in their city. They continued walking with Y/n with their heart pounding in their chest as it progressively seemed to get darker.

The two ended up at an abandoned subway. Ever since the city built new lines older ones like these got left behind to just deteriorate. Little did they know the cameras were still in tact. Walking past all the other pieces if art Y/n stopped them at a close enough blank canvas. She set down her tote bag and the cans seemed to clatter inside as she opened the zipper.

“Take this.” She tossed Sloan one of the gas masks. Making sure that they changed the masks in the dark so nobody could suspect the two. After she turned on the flashlight. Pointing it at the canvas. “So take a can and go nuts.”

They spent around an hour doing what they could all the different colors and layers. Eventually it was an outstanding piece of art that differed all the others there. While Sloan drew mini stick figures. Sloan stood back to admire the painting of what had been made. “You’re such a great artist! How did you ever think of that!?” Y/n smiled under her mask. “Oh just some inspiration.”

But their time to bask in the art was limited. They could hear police sirens in the background. Then footsteps and the sound of a radio got closer and closer. The two ran off, leaving behind the extra spray cans and the flashlight and only took the empty tote bags with them.

The police chased after the two not too close behind them but not to far as well. Sloan hadn’t felt the first rush of adrenaline in forever. They kept running and running turning corners and going any direction to loose them. Sloan then found an alleyway and pulled Y/n in there with them. Pressing their bodies right next to each other and with them covering her mouth.

And that’s how they got there. The two were slowing their breathing as the police walked down close to where they were. She almost began to panic. Sloan could feel it with how she was beginning to hyperventilate. Sloan leaned down to reach her ear. They whispered in it because the last thing they wanted was a felony for abstracting federal property. “Calm down. Hush be quiet before we get caught.” They said slowly but also almost sweet like honey.

Y/n listened to them fixing her breathing and just resting against them. But feeling how close Y/n was to them was so…addicting to them. Of course she’s sat on their lap before when needed but this was different. This was the worst time to be getting aroused but they almost couldn’t help it. They thought only for a split second how sexy it would be to do what they wanted there while also hiding out away from the police. Public indecency and defacing federal property didn’t sound like two terrible charges to them.

Sloan had to think straight. They shook their head as the gas mask rested against their neck. They must have taken it off when they ran. They were thinking about her, until she seemed to be moving against them. Knocking them out of their slight daydream. The friction Sloan was feeling made them clench their jaw just slightly. “What are you doing?!” They whispered trying not to enjoy how it felt.

“It’s just a tight squeeze. My legs are falling asleep.” She whispered back trying to get comfortable. The police footsteps getting closer. She stopped moving, feeling something rest against her. She looked back at Sloan in the darkness. “Really? Now?” She whispered to them. Sloan blushed trying not to look back at her.

“I can’t help it!” Sloan whispered. They covered her mouth once again as they heard the footsteps get closer. Walking right past them. She squirmed in front of them almost on purpose feeling how much harder them seemed to get. In Sloans mind they could only wonder what she was doing to them? Was this to tease them on purpose?

The police seemed to get only slightly farther before stopping and having a conversation. “Those damn kids. Those little fuckers do this all the time. We ain’t gonna catch one.” Said one of the officers kicking a rock into the distance. “Let’s go back to the station. They need to hurry up and demolish this piece of shit so we don’t have to keep going down here.” The other said. Eventually the footsteps and the radio chatter faded. And now it was only the two of them left.

Y/n managed to turn around to look at them. “Okay their gone we should-“ Sloan kissed her. One hand on her waist and the other on the wall to support them. Y/n was surprised but kissed them back. Once Sloan broke away they looked down at her, loosing all sense of rational thought. “No you don’t get to go just yet.”

“W-what but the cops-“ “I don’t care about the cops they’re gone now. You don’t get to do that and act all innocent.” “Do what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Very clear lie from Y/n. She knew she was lying. Something about seeing their best friend try to hold back from her is arousing to say the least. In her opinion.

“So how about I show you because you don’t know.” Sloan took her hand pressing it to the bulge that seemed to be proud in front of the cargo pants they wore. Y/n looked down at it then back up at them. “So what?” She asked almost hoping they would give her the green light to do something about it.

“Well genius, you dragged me out here, nearly got both of us a felony…a misdemeanor couldn’t hurt.” Y/n looked around it was dark, nobody would catch them but public indecency isn’t just a misdemeanor. “You mean us being put on a list?” “Oh right. Well it won’t happen if we don’t get caught. You just have to stay quiet.”

It didn’t take long for Sloan to kiss her again, this time much more passionate and deeper. Almost like they were yearning for her all this time without saying anything. But there was something else underlying in the kiss. It was hunger. Their hands first rested on her waist, however they could feel hers pulling them closer in the already cramped alleyway.

Sloan wasn’t even sure they could fully go through with anything here but anything is possible. They had to rush however, it was getting darker and darker and they wouldn’t want to miss the last bus that ran in this area. They could feel Y/n wrap her fingers around their belt loops, unbuttoning the front of their cargos and sliding it down their legs. Sloan almost was at a loss for words.

Feeling her hand palming their boxers made them sharply inhale, their head tilting back against the wall. They were too in bliss to realize that instead of her hand they felt her lips around the tip of their cock.

Each second that passed feeling Y/n take more of them down her throat, the saliva running down the side of her mouth as she looked up at them in the darkness. Sloan grabbed the top of her head squeezing her hair feeling each movement of her tongue on them.

Sloan bit their lip to prevent themselves from moaning. They didn’t want to make more noise than they were supposed to. They took sharp breath before looking down at her, their eyes almost showing how desperate they were. With each moment that passed the closer they got to their release. Almost like it was within grasp.

“Oh please I-I’m going to-“ Y/n pulled back using her hands as she heard Sloan. They couldn’t stop themselves as they came on her hands. They tried to catch their breath as she looked at the mess on her hands.

“So uh…again at my place?” Sloan asked as they walked out the abandoned station together, going back to the bus stop to wait for the next bus. “I don’t see why not.” She added smiling at them before the bus pulled up.

This came out extremely late but I had severe writers block and I had to use that time to do other hobbies. But it’s here like I said it would be!!

[nonymous-nb]

•────~❉᯽❉~───────────────•

Medkit & Subspace x Reader

•───────────────~❉᯽❉~────•

"Medkit and Subspace won't stop PHIGHTING."

PHIGHTING! | One-shot | "Fluff" | Romantic..?

Warning/s: [Subspace.]

Extra: [we love Medkit and Subspace daily phighting. + not proofread as always + He/They Reader]

ah, yes.. what a normal day, the soft breeze of the wind, the noises that the civilians make every now and then. You sighed to yourself, quite content at the peaceful atmosphere as you try and munch on your beloved [favorite dessert] and your [favorite drink]. Oh, what could go wrong on this fine day?

"Hm? Oh! [Name]!!" A loud giddy voice called out to you as you flinched not expecting anyone to call you. Looking at the source of voice there you saw him; waving his hand in a fast pace. "Oh, Subspace! I didn't think you're the type of person to come to cafes." You said as you watch him fast-walk towards you, while some civilians avoided him like a plague not wanting to irritate the psychotic scientist. Now that he was near you, he sat down on a vacant seat, his smile getting wider behind his gas mask. "You are absolutely correct, I don't go to cafes!! I just thought having a nice alone chatting time with my beloved.. friend. would be delightful!!" You sense that he didn't didn't really like the word friend, whenever you guys are together. You just shrugged it off not minding it. "Hm, is that so.. then I don't mind...?" Now, you don't hate Subspace, but you have this gut feeling that something bad gonna happen sooner or later. "Now, do tell how you are doing?" He hummed a bit as he asked, propping his head onto his hand as he waits for you to talk. And so you did.

Subspace just continued to stare at you listening to your words attentively, his attention solely on you. Subspace couldn't help his feelings, just being with you just makes him feel something.. warm? And he likes it for some reason. The way you move, smile, talk, laugh— oh, how Subspace just adores you so much! He's just so lovestruck, how can you not see?! The occasional lovestruck glance he gives you, the way he's more touchy with you than usual, the way he let you hold him like he was made for you.. Hell, even Hyperlaser and his Biografts noticed this behavior! Then why can't you?! Subspace couldn't help but think of opening your head that's hiding your brain just to see how you can't see his visible feelings, for you to witness and see how much he loves and wants you! No matter.. you will be his in no time, his plan will work.. it always will. He chuckled darkly to himself as he now put his focus back onto you. The person who made him feel such unspecified feelings. If this was a game, there would be hearts surrounding Subspace right about now.

if only he knew.. that this shlt is an actual game.

"Hope I'm not bothering you, [Name]." Subspace little obsessive daydream came to a halt, as he gave the most irritated and sinister smile to the person that interrupted his little date with you. "Medkit! it's nice to see you again." You exclaimed a bit as you see the very well known wanted healer. "It is a pleasure to see you too, [Name.]" Medkit smiled softly as he looks at you, a smile that has pure adoration and love, but that smile then slightly faltered as he sees a certain scientist. "And I see you're here as well.." He huffed at the scientist. "And I see you like butting in to my conversation as always, Meddy!!" The scientist exclaimed back, his hand on the table turning into a tight fist, trying to stop himself from punching the living crap out of his enemy. He would do that right now.. But not in front of his beloved specimen. "And I see you like disturbing [Name] again as well." The healer glared, his hand twitching to get his gun that's idly sitting on his holster. "The only one who's disturbing [Name] is you. Why don't you go somewhere else and leave us alone." Subspace hissed as Medkit came closer to you, the hand that's trying not so hard to punch Medkit now gripped the poor table. You could hear the small cracking sound it's producing.

Watching the two duo silently and quietly made you sweat, you see the civilians in the corner of your eye looking at the scene while walking away quickly not wanting to be caught up in that mess, some of them gave you sympathetic looks as they left as well. Damn, you're stuck here with no help. How nice is that?

You figeted with your fingers and try to think of possible ways to defuse the two large ticking bombs in front of you. "Uh, would.. would you guys like to.. well— go somewhere to calm down or..?" Yeah, you're bad at this crap. You began to sweat more as the duo looked at you and stared. You couldn't really decipher what they're thinking, it looks like it'll take a while longer to make them calm. "I think I'd like that!!" Subspace suddenly stood up from his seat taking your arm, as he pulled you onto him, his grip tight, but not tight enough to hurt you, no. Subspace will think of branding you in another way possible. Just to show this teal phuck who you already belong to.

Not expecting him to yank you over to stand up; your beloved drink then spilled over, due to the slight bump you had on with the table. "My beloved drink.." You thought to yourself, quite sorrowful. But that thought stopped as you felt someone else tugged you away from Subspace grip. "Sorry, I think you already have a.. fair share amount of time with [Name], it's best if you leave them in my care." Medkit held you as if he's protecting you from the danger, that danger being Subspace. The scientist couldn't help but widen his eye. Medkit? The traitor.. the motherphucking bitch who had the audacity who left Blackrock just for his own selfishness, is here to take you away, especially from him? Oh, he can't have that. "Hands off them, Medkit." Subspace horns lit up hot magenta, once he gets you away, he'll make sure to shove a tripmine down Medkit's throat, as he gripped your free arm. Medkit just gave him a glare, almost daring him to make a move, he knew that once Subspace starts acting up. You wouldn't trust him ever again.. Not like you should of.

You never wanted anything than to leave in peace right now.

Dear Illumina, what did you do to get this unlucky. What are you gonna do now? These two are about to rip your arms off. But it looks like some deity felt pity for you as the well known warden is here. "You two." He started off as he stood above your little group. "Are making so much scene in this area." He halfly growled at the two demons, his face then faced towards you before looking back at the two demons. "And you two had the audacity to cost trouble for this civilian." He couldn't help but sighed as he took you out of the two demons' grasp. Neither of them liked that. "Oh, isn't it the infamous warden!! Would you mind and take this abomination outta here? he's ruining [Name]'s and I's moment!!" He exclaimed as he pointed an accusing finger at the healer. "Am I really the problem, or are your psychological tendencies is just that bad." The two then started to bicker with each other, spilling threats by threats while you just went away and talk with the warden.

...

"That's all that happened, sorry that they caused too much trouble." You apologized at the warden, vouching for those two. "hm, don't worry 'bout it, I shall escort them away, do be mindful with those two.. they're a big headache." He told you as he went to where the duo were to take them away. "What— Why are you taking me away!? I'll have you remember that I, Subspace T. Mine, does NOT accept this!!" Subspace began thrashing around like a rapid animal, hissing as BanHammer held onto him, hard, to restrain his movements. "You're lucky that someone higher than me is on your side, if not, then you would be in Banland not too long ago." BanHammer snapped at Subspace, as he was about to do the same to Medkit, just to see that he's gone. BanHammer couldn't help but release a small irritated sigh. As he took the thrashing Subspace away.

Subspace looked back at you and gave you a sad glance, your heart slightly ached at the look of his face, wanting to help him but they're no longer in your sight.

"I guessed that's slightly fixed." You flinched a bit as you didn't expect Medkit to pop out of nowhere. "What the fu—" You were about to finish your sentence until he hugged you. "Sorry that you had to deal with that guy.." Medkit kept you in his arms, holding you like you were hurt, letting you go for a moment as he looks at you, smiling. He was about to say something until he heard a familiar voice called for his name, his remaining eye twitched at the timing of a certain dealer. He then looked back at you and smiled once more. "Let's go and hang out again sometime again." He bid his farewell as he took your hand to softly plant a kiss onto it, walking away to the shadowed corridor to leave.

You just stood there trying to figure out what even is happening in your life, you just wanted some drink and desserts.

"Wait, are they gay for me—"

[Woah, another update— what am I on rn..💀 you can also tell that I have no idea what to do at the end :sob:]

[strwbrychffoncke]

''rockin' around the christmas tree,, 2.6k words synopsis: in your attempt to prepare a present for the twins, a misunderstanding ensues... contains: slight angst -> fluff! luke + kieran & f!reader (platonic!) ,implied sylus x hunter!reader (not specifically mc) ,reader is called "miss hunter" (by the twins) + "kitten" (once by sylus) ,mostly silly/maybe slight crack(?) ,lots of twins' shenanigans (i luv them) ,kind of linked to my santa baby fic (its mostly in the time that sylus was gone ,no they aren't on the trip w him ,try not to think ab it too much LOL) ,like one suggestive comment/moment (but its between you + sylus) ,twins being cute at the end ,that should be it note: (warning: unedited! so pls stand by....) this idea struck me while working on other fics, and as a result is the last to be released sigh.... but i like how silly it is i hope its enjoyable :x finally finished my mini event & i actually really enjoyed it (and am v grateful for all of the notes my self-indulgent writings have received ,so thank you v much !)

-

luke and kieran thought that a certain miss hunter was acting strange these days.

it wasn't uncommon for you to visit sylus, given your relationship, and as your relationship grew so too did yours with the twins, often indulging their antics, engaging in their banter, and sometimes joining in on their schemes against sylus (still sometimes resulting in you being on the receiving end of their pranks in the process).

they were more than well aware of their boss' fondness towards you, and they could say they shared the sentiment.

they thought you were close.

so, imagine their surprise when, the past couple of days, you seemed to be ignoring their existence altogether.

...bringing them to their current impromptu meeting with each other in the living area.

"it just doesn't make any sense," luke thinks aloud.

"have you done anything to anger miss hunter recently?" kieran tilts his head, looking straight at his brother through the crow mask.

luke scratches the back of his head.

"not anything that would garner this kind of reaction..." he trails off in thought.

"she didn't even tell us she was coming" kieran adds.

luke straightens up.

"right?! isn't that strange?? i mean, it's not like we're the ones that she comes for, but she still usually gives a notice! when i ran into her, it's almost like i was the one at fault when i didn't even know she was here in the first place!"

luke rants animatedly, hands flailing about to emphasize his words.

"and, and! it wasnt even my fault, she practically slammed into me. she barely spared me a word before darting away!"

he sighs, slumping back into the cushions.

a moment passes before kieran speaks up again.

"and we were just decorating with her the other day too...." he trails off before thinking aloud. "think we should ask the boss about it?"

"should we really bring it to him?" luke questions. "he may not even answer us. he's much more likely to take her side, don't you think?"

"yeah, not to mention it'd interrupt his business deal," kieran thought, tilting his head as he pondered a different thought.

"well, there's only one other option then," he muses.

despite being unable to see each others faces, they share the same look under the masks.

"we get to the bottom of it ourselves!" they exclaim in unison.

-

stage one: catch her off guard!

"when she's least expecting it, we'll barge into her space like we usually do, and watch her response!"

"miss hunter!"

dammit

you shove the bags under the bed as quickly as you can before the door to your room bursts open, revealing none other than the two troublemakers themselves, donning their usual crow masks.

"wh-"

"we wanted to check on you!"

"...why?"

"because," luke begins, "you must be lonely with the boss out on business so suddenly, right?"

"thats-"

"so we thought that we'd keep you company!" kieran finishes his thought.

"but i was-"

"don't tell us you were busy with something," luke chides.

"actually i was," you begin, gaze shifting between both masked men staring down at you.

"so go entertain yourselves for awhile, yeah?"

"sheesh! what did we do?" kieran complains animatedly.

"just.. leave me alone for awhile, i'm-"

"you don't happen to be working on something for the boss, are you?"

you pause, denial dying on your lips before thinking maybe this can work.

"as a matter of fact, i am" you nod. "so, if you will-"

"then we can help you!" they quickly cut you off, excited.

"actually, its not-"

"come on, miss hunter, let us help!"

"after all, who do think knows boss the best here?"

they look all too proud, and you want to smack them over the head.

you let out a frustrated groan before thinking of an excuse.

"why don't you help me later? for now, can you both just leave already??"

"ouch!"

"that stings, miss hunter..."

having enough of their dramatics, you finally get up from your spot and physically begin ushering them out the door.

"out, out, get out."

"ah- ok- stop shoving-"

"we're going, we're going!"

once they're out in the hallway, you begin shutting the door before kieran stops it with a hand.

"but later, you have to-"

"yeah, yeah, i'll make it up to you later, just leave for now!"

and with that, you promptly shut the door, their ears not missing the click of the lock.

they turn to one another, arms crossed over their chests.

"thoughts?"

kieran thinks it over for a moment.

"you definitely pissed her off."

"WHAT?" luke practically shrieks. "says YOU! did you consider that maybe your shabby job at decorating ticked her off???"

kieran scoffs at his brother.

"says the one who came up with the idea of most of them."

"you literally called me a genius."

"whatever, back on topic," kieran shrugs. "wasn't she a little too eager to get rid of us??"

luke nods along quickly, chain dangling from his mask.

"yeah! think she's hiding something from us?"

"could be.... this needs more investigating!"

they scurry off, preparing for the next step.

-

stage two: distraction tactic

"drag her away to do something with one of us while the other investigates!"

"miss hunter!"

your body gaze shifted from the snack in your hands up to the source of the voice.

"let's bake something!"

one moment, you're leaning on the kitchen counter, peacefully munching away at a small bag of chips while thinking over your gift plan and the next, your space is surrounded by various ingredients fished out by none other than kieran.

"what are yo-"

"we're making gingerbread!"

"...since when do you know how to make gingerbread?"

"uh, since now?"

you deadpan, trying to sidestep him.

"kieran, i really don't have-"

he follows you, reaching out to grip your shoulders.

"come on, don't run away again! can a capable hunter really not do something so simple as make some gingerbread?"

"of course i can, its just-"

"you're working on your gift for boss, yeah, yeah, this can be part of it!"

you blink at him.

"i mean... i guess?"

"great!" he exclaims a little too loudly, releasing you from his hold. "now, let's get to it!"

. . .

at hearing his brother's word, luke assumes he's in the clear.

he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hall towards your room (or technically, a guest bedroom, but it might as well be yours with you making yourself comfortable there, he thinks, but can't understand why you won't call it your own), checking the door before opening it slowly, looking both ways before he slips inside, carefully shutting it closed behind him.

he lets out a short sigh.

he flicks the light on, and the first thing he notices is that the room is in a bit of.. disarray.

there's various things scattered over the floor, some papers with scrawling on it spread on your desk, and your comforter on your bed is crooked.

he decides to take a peek of the papers on the desk first.

he doesn't move them, only leans in closer to take in what appear to be sketches with some messy handwriting off to the side.

were these.... masks?

luke tilts his head.

why on earth are you drawing out masks suddenly?

one of the papers seems to have a ribbon drawn out, and luke assumes that's your choice method to secure it around your head.

not too sure how well that'll work for you, he mutters.

he turns around, shifting his attention towards the items scattered around the floor.

there's a pair of pliers, some jump rings, what looks like string, super glue, beads, and rolls of ribbon spilling out of a plastic bag.

so miss hunter is the crafty type, huh? why would she hide this new hobby? luke thinks aloud to himself as he inspects everything.

thats when he notices a certain dress hung up on your closet door, standing out from some other clothes he now sees are sprawled messily on the floor surrounding it.

and then, he realizes.

"ah!"

he turns around, excited and ready to run out of the room when he hears the click of the door.

"miss hunter, wait!"

"hold on, i just need-"

he's frozen in his seat, barely registering the muffled voices behind the door before you open it, immediately locking eyes with him.

"luke???!"

"h-hey, miss!"

"what the hell are you doing in here???"

he stammers for a bit, unable to think up an excuse before he decides to just make a run for it.

he dashes out the space between you and the door, and is out of your sight within seconds.

you're stunned for a moment, looking over at everything, thinking about the look in his eye, and you're nothing short of mortified.

did he figure it out...?

. . .

that night, luke shares everything with kieran, and both being absolutely sure of having uncovered everything, begin to initiate step three.

-

stage three: confrontation station!

"trap the unsuspecting hunter and reveal that we know her secret!"

despite feeling embarrassed at being found out, you tried to carry on as usual while still avoiding the masked men when you could.

but somehow, you found yourself cornered once again, in the living area this time this time, stuck on the sofa as the twins stood above you as they blocked your view and any chance of escape.

"miss hunter!" they spoke in unison, a little too loudly considering their proximity.

you flinched at the volume of their voices, catching you slightly off guard before answering them.

"yes...?"

"ahem," luke clears his throat before pointing an accusing index finger at you.

"we've figured you out!"

oh no.

"listen, there's-"

"we know why you've been avoiding us!" kieran points as well, looking down at you behind his mask.

"i can-"

"you're planning to scare boss with a new mask and in a pretty outfit before apprehending and tying him up, aren't you?" they accuse in unison this time.

you pause.

"...huh?"

"we know everything!" luke folds his arms over his chest.

"yeah, so just give it up!" kieran mimics the action.

"..."

a beat of silence passes.

you're unsure if you should be angry at them for snooping or grateful for their shared braincell before you burst into laughter.

under the masks, the twins look at each other.

huh?

you're laughing so hard you tilt to the side, clutching your stomach as you sink into the expensive cushions.

so that's what they thought?

the twins gazes flick from each other back to you as you slowly calm down, catching your breath.

"so, that's what you came up with?" you finally speak again, wiping at your eyes that are threatening to spill amused tears.

"we promise not to tell boss!" kieran speaks up first.

"ye-yeah! we'll even record his reaction, if you'd like," luke offers, snapping back when his brother speaks up first.

you shake your head.

"no need, you two are wrong anyway," you tell them, standing up from the sofa.

"actually, you'll get to see it soon enough."

"really?!??"

you nod at them, reaching both hands out to pat each of their heads at the same time.

"mhm, just wait a little longer, okay?"

"yes, miss!" they speak together, determined voices reaching your ears.

you begin making your way out of the living area before luke calls out to you again.

"uh, just a suggestion, but maybe use something a little sturdier than ribbon for the mask!"

you stare at him.

"it may be too heavy to hold it, so i recommend something like ours!" he turns his brother around, gesturing towards his mask.

"r-right" you nod. "thanks, i'll keep that in mind," you mutter but loud enough for him to still hear you.

"anytime, miss!"

with that, you're scampering back to your room, hoping luke is as oblivious as he seems and not just messing with you.

when you're out of sight, they turn to each other.

"so, you were wrong," kieran starts, hand moving behind his head.

"hey! i bet i was close. and anyway, we'll see whatever it is soon enough, right? isn't that all thanks to me??" luke juts his thumb towards himself.

"yeah, i'll give you that at least."

"but still, i wonder what the deal is with the interest in masks. isn't it too sudden?"

"maybe she got jealous of ours," kieran suggests.

"that must be it," luke quickly agrees.

"guess we'll just have to wait and see for miss hunter's masterpiece mask."

-

stage four: ???

"..."

sylus had returned a couple of nights later.

you initially told them that they'd likely get to see what you'd been working on for christmas as you'd wrapped it and placed it under the tree, but when the day came and you noticed sylus hadn't yet returned, you made the twins wait until he did.

and he had.

finally.

though, they had to entertain themselves for one more night, already surrendering opening them despite their beloved boss' return after seeing him haul you down the hallway and into his bedroom.

as they trotted off to their rooms, luke piped up suddenly.

"so that's what all the ribbon was for..."

"huh?"

"didn't you see? miss hunter had ribbon dangling from her wrists and ankles."

"freaky."

"definitely."

. . .

the next day, like young children on christmas morning, the twins berated sylus' door with knocks, calling at you both to hurry up cause they'd waited long enough, threatening to rip open all of the presents should you make them wait any longer.

in short time, both you and sylus had appeared in the living room (you being carried by sylus and placed comfortably on the sofa) as the twins sat by the tree, eyeing the presents.

"go on, then" sylus urged, leaning back on the sofa, manspread as a hand reached over to caress your hair.

you pointed out the two cutely-sized presents wrapped with care in gold and silver wrapping paper, the twins snatching them up quickly before ripping the paper after you have the okay.

under the paper, the each help a small cardboard box. they looked at each other.

"open it up," your voice is sleepy, comfortable from sylus' caresses but fighting the fatigue in favor of seeing the twins' faces.

"on three," kieran tells luke, who nods.

"one," kieran starts.

"two," luke continues.

"three!" they say together, snatching the lids clean off of the boxes.

its quiet for a moment as they inspect the contents.

inside each box are one shiny ring, the perfect size for their masks, and a small chain dangling from it adorned with a small, shiny crow charm on the end of it.

they both take theirs out, inspecting it and watching the charm dangle.

"i.. hope you like it. it wasn't easy to make... you trail off, watching their focused expressions.

they pause their staring before slowly looking at each other, a sudden realization donning upon them.

"so thats what it all was for!"

sylus tilts his head.

"what what was for?"

"long story-" luke begins.

"we thought miss hunter was making a mask to scare you and then tie you up."

sylus stares for a moment before a chuckle escapes him.

"well, that's definitely an idea..."

you swat at his thigh.

"such a feisty kitten," he teases, but continues his caresses.

the twins then shift their hidden gaze towards you.

"thank you, miss hunter!"

needless to say, the sight of them donning the matching dangling crow charms and sometimes switching from their classic gold ring to your silver one filled your heart.

-

a/n: happy new years! its still new yrs eve for me so technically i finished this in dec (& all month of dec is christmas to me heh....) i wish everyone a lovely new yrs celebration & hope the yr brings you peace & fulfillment :x i'm quite proud of myself for writing + posting fics for lads for the first time in succession & hope to improve w any new piece that i release :x also ,good luck to everyone on this current banner.... i was lucky to get rafayel & then zayne alr and have my sights set on sylus next.... i will get freaky w him trust

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