#Part 9

[greetings-inferiors]

Dragona's gender is interesting. People constantly "mistake" her for a woman, and the gang correct them, but she herself never does. It's always Jodio or Charmingman going "uhm akshually HE is a MAN" while Dragona just sits there in silence. Like..?

I mean obviously I want one of my favourite characters in one of my favourite pieces of media to be a trans woman, and until she specifically says if she is a trans woman or not we won't know for sure, but given that she presents as a woman, takes hrt, and never "corrects" those that call her a woman, I'm gonna call her a woman.

I really hope she eventually tells Jodio or the like to stop calling her a man, but then again you and me both girl.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I can’t wait to see the next part for passion for fashion! i’m very interested in seeing how Tim handles everything.

Danny scurries across the street as quickly as possible. The flashing hand is counting down, meaning he only has a few seconds before clearing the road. He could wait for the next time it changes, but Danny was already late as it was.

Plus, he was pretty sure he was being followed. Usually, that wouldn't frighten him too severely, but seeing as he had been kidnapped once while in Gotham, it's safe to say this city wasn't exactly safe at all.

He manages to get across just as the light switches from the flashing red hand to a still red hand, and the cars waiting just as impatiently at the white lines roar their engines as soon as green in front of them.

They zoom past him, blaring through the wind at what Danny is sure is unsafe driving speeds. He sighs, pulling up his hood to protect his head from the gentle drizzle that started up. Today he was wearing what Dan called "sports luxe."

Danny thinks it just looked like a skater threw on a jacket over a hoodie, but what did he know? Apparently, not enough to have an opinion on the superiority of sports luxe.

Even the name sounded snobby. Dan threw a fit the moment he pointed it out, though. Sometimes, it was better to agree to disagree with his counterpart.

Danny had felt suffocated within the house lately. Gotham seemed to suddenly develop non-stop rain. It's been heavy rain, a light sprinkle, or threatening rain for a week straight. It was nothing compared to the bright, clear skies of home. How could people stand to live here all the time? It was downright miserable.

The city natives said it was just the first signs of spring, the year's rainy season.

Not to mention, it was a grim reminder that for all the time they had been in this stupid city, they only recently found out who Batman was. He wasn't sure how long Clockwork would be willing to wait, but Danny feared they were getting near an unmentioned deadline.

This morning, he had woken to a clock ticking in his chest. It faded after a while, but Danny had received the message just as loud and clear as the tick tick tick sound was.

There was a very real bomb fused to his core by the God of Time, and he said god was becoming upset with his lack of results. Dan, who had gotten the same message, was seemingly more reserved as he carefully pinned the few fabrics for their next part of the fashion contest.

The silence following their discussion of today's new experimental fashion style had felt choking. Danny had chosen to escape and walk around the city while Dan retreated further into his cave of fabrics. They agreed to meet up for lunch at one pm at the same pizza that Red Robin took him on a date to.

They could gather clues about Batman if they went to where he had shown up.

His date with Tim Drake had been a bust. The man was sweet but seemed too loyal to Batman's secrets. No matter what tricks Danny tried on that date, Tim danced around his probing for any Batman intel like a well-trained ballerina.

He couldn't even get the guy to admit he knew Batman. Either he was the best actor in the world, or Tim didn't know a thing about Batman. Still, the date at the arcade and then dinner had been a relaxing bit of fun.

Something was charming about making someone blush with a mere glance that had Danny feeling on cloud nine. He knows on some level that he is considered hot here, but to witness his effect on someone was something entirely else.

He might have asked for a second date were it not for the man who followed them throughout the date from a distance. Danny noticed him sometime after Tim had shyly offered to buy him some ice cream.

He was taking their picture. As soon as Danny saw him,, he cut the date off quickly. Not only was ita a waste of time if Tim couldn't lead him to Batman, but he also didn't want to drag poor Tim into nanother kidnapping attempt.

Was it a jerk move to cut the date mid-way? Probably.

Did it make him feel like Dash? Uncomfortably so.

But needs most. As soon as Dany told Tim he wasn't feeling well and that he would call him (he didn't), the half had all but run away. The man had quickly followed in step with him, until Danny lost him in the city two hours later.

He returned home with no leads, a new stalker, and the terrier tick tick tick echoing in his rib cage.

Three days later, the same man was back, following Danny from a distance. He was doing a good job staying further away today, but Danny had caught sight of the hummingbird tattoo and realized who it was.

Danny glances at a nearby store window to discreetly check behind him. Sure enough, the same hummingbird flashed briefly as the man reached up to raise his own hoodie.

It's on the right hand, running along the thumb. Danny breathes through his nose, walking as casually as possible but putting more speed into his steps. Around him, people are walking briskly, and his vision is somewhat disorientated by the few umbrellas that are folded open.

He slides through gaps of people, weaving and waving as casually as he can. The distance between the man and him grew bigger, but Danny knew he was still within sight.

He stuffs his hands into his pocket, feeling around for a knife disguised as a comb that Pamela had given him after picking up her new outfit. Danny had to admit that Dan outdid himself with it because she looked like a badass nymph.

Apparently, she heard some whispers that the Fenton twins were a thing of beauty and powerful men were interested in adding them to their collection. Ew.

She said it was better to be safe than sorry while presenting Dan with his own knife. "The world is a nightmare. Be the terror in it, not the victim."

Dan put her words on a poster and hung it in his studio.

Danny glances at another window, feeling his stomach drop when a familiar ticking starts up as the man quickly closes the space between. Somehow, a deep part of his soul knows that should the man catch him, Danny's bomb would be set off.

Breaking into a run, Danny pushed people out of the way, uncaring for the scene he was causing. He heard a curse before footsteps rapidly followed him. Multiple sets of footsteps.

There was more than one.

Crude. crude. crude. Stop ticking! I know I'm in danger! He thinks frantically, pushing his human legs to go faster. He blows his hoodie off his head as he sprints.

His eyes bounce around wildly, searching for anywhere safe, when he lands on an open car door of a nice black car with a man settling in the back as a diver buckles up. Not stopping to think, Danny leaps into it, ignoring the shout of surprise from the man who he landed across the lap.

He hits the diver's seat, babbling, "Drive! Drive! Drive! Please, they're after me! DRIVE"

The man he's lying on reacts fast enough to slam the car door closed just as a large man slams against it. It's someone built like a brick house and looking rather mean as he punches the glass .

Thankfully, the thing must be bulletproof because it doesn't budge. The driver slams his foot on the gas, peeling away from the crowd of kidnappers who attempt to surround the car. They nearly miss slamming into oncoming traffic, but the driver quickly drifts their car into a perfect U and flies off.

Danny gasps, slumping with relief. "Hate this stupid city so much sometimes." He grumbles under his breath, only noticing he spoke in Spanish when the man makes a fumbling sentence in response.

"Er...espanol...un poquito?" The man holds his fingers up, having them separated by only a bit of space.

" I speak English."

"Oh, good. Mind telling me what all that was about, lad? Do we need to go to the police?" The man asks, his voice gentle and warm.

Danny realizes then that he is staring into the face of the man who started the fashion contest. He is also still lying across his lap. With a yelp, he flings himself away, scrambling into the seat beside Bruce Wayne.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Wayne! I was being chased by...um, I don't know actually who they were."

"Bane's men." The driver says grimly in an English accent. "They were wearing the hummingbird of his inner circle."

"Alfred, please take us to Commissioner Gordon." Mr. Wayne commands, face turning hard, and Danny is about to tell him he's fine being dropped at home when suddenly-

"Are you hurt, chum?" Mr. Wayne asks, noticing Danny staring down at his chest pale face. Or maybe it was how he was frozen in place, waiting for a boom that might be coming.

The bomb stops ticking. Danny feels around his chest, wondering why when it clicks in his head.

"Chum?"

He stares into the startled eyes of Mr. Wayne before he feels a sharp prick on the back of his neck. He has a few seconds of whirling around to see the driver- Aflred- settling back in his driving seat. A needle in his hand.

"Are you Batman?" Danny whispers, leaning into Mr. Wayne's face. "

Batman, have you hugged your kids lately?"

"Shit. Here, I thought I escaped a kidnapping."

The world went black, and there was only one thing he was aware of. The sound.

Tic tic tic tic tic tic

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Danny was waiting when Dick came home. "Welcome home, Dick."

He runned the back of his neck nervously, slipping the window closed behind him. "Hey, Danny."

There was a long moment of silence, Dick standing in front of the closed window and Danny sitting on the couch. Danny took a sip of the tea he was holding before setting the mug down on the coffee table with a click. "So," he leveled a small glare at the vigilante, "you gonna apologise to Tim?"

"Who?" Dick blinked.

"The kid you yelled at and then left standing in your apartment as you went out as Nightwing for exactly two hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds longer than your new schedule allows."

He cringed back. "Listen, kid-"

"No, you're listening to me, so shut up and sit down." He did, dropping right to the floor. "I don't know what the hell happened between you and Batman, but you don't get to take it out on the people around you, especially not the kid that just trying to help."

"Dan-"

"What did I just say?" He sighed. "Look. I get it. You're grieving, both you and Batman are, but that doesn't excuse your behavior. It doesn't excuse Batman's behavior, either, so don't think that's what I'm saying."

Dick carefully pulled his domino mask off. "What do you want me to do?"

"Several things." Danny stood and walked into the bathroom, coming back a few seconds later with Dick's first aid kit. "First, though, you're gonna let me patch you up. Then, you're gonna use my phone and apologise to Tim. After that, you eat and go to bed; You have work in a few hours."

Knowing he wasn't going to be getting out of this, Dick started to take his suit off. He slipped his arms out of the sleeves and let Danny treat the bruises on his arms and hands. Not much damage that night. He'd only encountered a few petty crimes so it had been quiet.

Without another word shared between them, Danny left to put the first aid kit away before making a quick snack for Dick while he went to change. It'd only been about a week, but they'd fallen into an easy routine.

Dick was quick to change and eat, falling asleep nearly ten minutes after he laid down.

***

Danny made sure Dick was asleep before he left the apartment as Phantom. He'd learned, during his two weeks of not-stalking, that a some criminals hung back until Nightwing had turned in before they came out to play. Phantom was going out for an extra two hours each night to remedy this. Though, he made sure no one ever spotted him before or after he knocked people out. Invisibility was hand like that.

Sure, he didn't have all that much experience as a vigilante, but he'd been traveling for four weeks before stopping. The first lesson he learned was that he needed to learn fast. He was wasn't a genius like the rest of his family, but he picked up on things really fast. Fighting had been one of those things. Though, the lessons from his mom when he was a kid also helped a lot.

Staying invisible was easy, so was intangibility and flight. The three together made stealth easier than if he didn't have them. Though, he did make sure to practice his stealth without them, too. Being caught unawares or without his powers would be disastrous and he was going to do everything he could to mitigate the risk.

Blockbuster, Phantom had learned, was the reason Dick had stayed in Bludhaven. He was also the ringleader of the organised crime in the city. Apparently, he's the second of the Blockbuster name? The giant of a man had his hands everywhere; The Bludhaven Police, as well as the underbellies of New York, Metropolis, and Gotham. With eyes and ears everywhere, not a lot got passed him, which is likely why Nightwing was having trouble getting the crime rates down. So, Danny Phantom was going to help.

He'd heard the name Oracle from both Nightwing and Blockbuster's goons, so Phantom assumed whoever that was was on his side. Unluckily, though, they were now a target. He just needed to get a hold of them without letting them find him.

Phantom had heard the information from several goons since he'd started going out, but he didn't know if Nightwing knew or not. Though, he didn't know how to pass on the information. How could he tell Dick what he knows without letting slip that he'd been going out? Dick would call him a hypocrite and would fall back into his passively suicidal schedule. Danny's not a hypocrite! He just runs on a separate schedule. A schedule that Dick might not like, but one that works for Danny.

The intel Phantom was working with tonight was about some of Dick's coworkers. He knew the corruption in the Bludhaven and Gotham City Police Departments ran thick and deep, so he wasn't really surprised to find out that Detective Soames and Chief Redhorn ran with the less than pleasant people that made their homes and bases in Bludhaven.

Dick knew this, too, which is why he became an officer in the first place.

According to the goons Phantom had spied on, Detective Soames was involved in a drug ring that was doing deliveries tonight. It was timed to be after Nightwing had turned in for the night so that he wouldn't be able to bust it. It was a smart move on the ringleader's part, to have his goons out only after Nightwing was done for the night.

That was the next thing he was going to have to work on with Nightwing. He couldn't have a discernible pattern without someone with him to cover. Honestly, Batman should know better, too. Maybe he'll pass it on to Tim?

While on the road, Danny had learned that his powers were still developing. One of which was a kind of sixth sense. It worked somewhere between hearing and a spider's ability to feel vibrations in the air and webs. He didn't know is reach on it yet, but he was able to cover half of Bludhaven from where the ability currently sat, so he was going to work with that limit for now.

The warehouse he was staking out was where he'd heard goons talk about for nearly a week. They had been careless, assuming that there was no one out to catch them, but it worked in Phantom's favor. It was mostly empty, save for a few homeless squatters looking for some shelter, and was otherwise undisturbed.

Phantom didn't believe it for a second.

He was also going to laugh in Tim's face if the goons in Bludhaven were smarter than the goons in Gotham.

Right on time, just as the clock turned over into the Witching Hour, the homeless people sheltered in the warehouse stood up and met in the center of the building. Together, and armed, they waited for exactly five minutes. Then, the back doors to the building opened and Detective Soames walsted in.

"Gentlemen," the detective greeted with a sneer, "Lady. Do you have what I came here for?"

"Do we look like idiots?" the lady of the group scoffed, "Of course we have it."

"Well, I don't see it," Soames frowned, "Where is it?"

The dirty blond to the woman's right was the next to speak. "Hidden in the walls."

Soames' frown deepened into a scowl. "The hell is it in there for?"

The only other person of the group, a brown haired man, said, "There's rumors goin' 'round about a Spook. Comes out when Nightwing turns in."

Well, well, well. Looks like Phantom's gaining a reputation.

"You believe in ghost stories now?" Detective Soames sneered, "Get my delivery, now."

The three scuttled off the the wall just under where Phantom was hiding in the rafters. He timed ten minutes before they walked back upto Soames with two bricks of cocaine each.

"You're short."

"This is the agreed upon amount." the lady argued.

Soames' expression twisted into something cruel. "Did I forget to tell you? Tsk. Shame." In a quick and fluid movement, he whipped a pistol from his inner pocket and shot the woman and then the blond. He picked up the bricks, tucking them under his arm before taking the last two from the brunet. "I cannot build an empire without a few casualties, right?"

The man gulped, eyeing the gun. "Y-yes, sir."

Soames hummed. "The sands of Egypt were dyed red with blood. The roads of Rome are the same." He turned away from the man. "Twelve bricks in two weeks. You'll have a location shortly."

Phantom watched the detective leave with a frown. So that was the deal, huh? He didn't know too much about Bludhaven's criminals yet, but he was fairly certain that a man like Blockbuster won't like someone trying this shit under his nose.

He was quick to leave the warehouse after that, doing a quick loop of the city - focused mostly on Sin Central and The Spine - before flying back to Dick's apartment. He wrote down everything from the night, complete with drawings of everyone of note that he saw. He'd pass it to Nightwing as soon as he needed to. For now, though, it remained his cases alone.

Part 8 Part 10

[kil0sparkler]

Repercussion, Repetition, Resolution By: Pitopishi Part 9/9 Bloopers!!!

First / Previous / End

I hope you guys enjoyed this comic, again this was made by Pitopishi! Thanks to @HK That GF FAN for finding this comic, couldn’t have done this without they!

Remember, reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy Gold BYE!!!

👁️

[vickbb]

ass sketches :D

[dogmanxpeteyshipper713]

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 9

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: The great escape…

Song Inspo: “Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)” by Kate Bush

Word Count: 7.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood and violence, death, angst, trauma and PSTD, smut, hurt/comfort and feels.

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 9: Free to Be You and Me

Free me, you compelled Eisenstein’s mind.

He obeyed you with a vacant look in his eyes. He unhooked your straitjacket and opened the door. After you grabbed up his cattle prod, you still didn’t release your psychic hold. You ordered him forward, and for the first time you walked freely out of your cell without restraint.

Take me to Soldier Boy.

Eisenstein walked forward. Any time you came across a guard, you tased them long enough to touch whatever scrap of skin you could, usually their face or their neck. You added them to your collective control.

Now you had literal bodyguards protecting you as you made your way through the compound. You hadn’t used your powers in so long. It felt good, like stretching an aching muscle.

Once you reached Ben’s cell, Eisenstein stopped in front of it. When you peered inside the small window on the door, it looked misty as hell.

Clear the gas, you ordered.

The doctor pressed a key of numbers on a pad beside the door, and the gas receded into the vents.

Open the door.

He did as you commanded, then he stepped aside for you. You ordered the guards to stand watch outside the open door before you hurried inside. Ben was lying on the floor, mostly on his side. He was still very naked, though your face warmed as you tried not to focus on that part.

It made you sad more than anything. They’d been keeping him in here like an animal, worse than you, and after what he did for you…you could no longer find it in yourself to hate him.

You took his face into your hands and tapped his cheek.

“Ben… Ben, wake up,” you prodded.

His brows twitched. He made a sound of waking, and you swept his hair out of his eyes. Before they even opened all the way, his hand shot out and grabbed you by the throat. It choked a gasp out of you as you scrambled to grab his wrist.

“Ben,” you said with difficulty. “It’s me…”

Though if you thought about it, after the last things you’d said to him, maybe he did really want to kill you. Maybe he regretted saving you after all.

As he blinked more awake, this time he actually took in your face. His hand relaxed when he recognized you. You panted in relief to see it dawn in his eyes. His thumb slightly brushed across your jaw, and your name fell from his lips, almost in wonder.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you said with a smile and tears in your eyes. “Come on.”

You helped him up the best you could. His frame was bigger and heavier, and he was still a bit unsteady on his feet. He slung an arm around your shoulders and let you guide him out of the room. He tensed at seeing the guards in their green uniforms and Eisenstein standing there, but you held a hand to his chest. His skin there was hot to the touch. You frowned.

Must be whatever the serum did to him.

Dismay pulsed inside you, but you’d think about that later.

“It’s okay, they’re with me,” you told him with a smile, before you looked at one of the guards.

“Give him your clothes,” you ordered.

The man was compelled to set down his gun, take off his hat and the rest of his uniform, even his underwear, socks, and boots. He gave them all to Ben, who raised a brow.

“I’m good without the briefs,” he said with a grimace, tossing the used underwear to the floor. You flickered at a smile.

“Guess you’re going commando,” you said.

Ben scoffed. He muttered, “Yeah, what else is fucking new.”

A sliver of sadness once again pierced you, but you stayed quiet. He released you so he could get dressed. Biting your lip, you glanced away to give him some privacy.

Another guard turned the corner and noticed you all in the hallway. He raised a pointed finger and shouted something in Russian, then he raised his gun. You ordered your guards to shoot the man, but the damage was done. A red alert was sounding overhead.

“Let’s go,” Ben said. After lacing up his boots, he guided you with a hand on your back.

Eisenstein and three guards formed a pack of protection around you and Ben as you moved through the compound. You slowed to a stop at what looked like a laundry room.

“I need something else to wear,” you said. “Once we get outside, I’m gonna stick out—”

Ben eyed your thin gray gown and socks. He grabbed your arm and led you inside.

“Find something in here,” he said, as if that wasn’t your idea.

Instead of wasting time picking an argument, you just nodded in agreement. You looked around and picked through the large clean bin of clothing. It held several mixed bundles of faded green men’s shirts and pants. Finally, you managed to find a dark red tracksuit. It was a men’s size, so it wasn’t going to fit you, but maybe you’d look a little less ridiculous. Ben tossed you the smallest pair of boots he could find, and they were still huge. They would have to do.

“How do we get out of here?” you asked as you got dressed. You turned around for a semblance of modesty, but it didn’t stop the man from glancing over, checking out your ass, bare legs and back.

“We fight,” he replied. There was a dark note in his voice that you understood, and you agreed with him.

“I know. I mean a little more specifically,” you said. When you were dressed, you turned around and met your companion’s grim look. Together, you two returned to the hall and focused on Eisenstein.

“What’s the best way to get out of here?” you asked him. Your hold on his mind forced him to answer honestly.

“The compound is three stories underground. You must take the elevators up to the top,” he responded, almost like a robot.

“Show us,” you ordered.

The doctor complied. He led the way, and the guards covered your back as you hurried through the maze of hallways. Finally, he led you to the main laboratory. Inside were the rest of the doctor’s team trying to filter out and evacuate, while the rest of the security guards formed a line against you. You saw where the scientists were headed, to a large elevator along the far wall. 

“There!” you pointed, grabbing Ben’s arm.

He held you to him quick when the shots fired your way. He protected you with his body as the bullets bounced harmlessly off his skin, though a few of them tore through his clothes. He turned around but kept you behind him. His hands curled into fists, and he rooted his stance. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but you hid yourself behind his broad back.

Ben charged up the power that had already been building in his chest. It had started from the moment they injected him with that goddamn serum.

Now, he knew what it was. It felt like lava inside his chest—a nuclear force that he unleashed throughout the lab. It destroyed everything in its path, from desks and beakers to walls and support beams, to the men screaming and trying in vain to get away.

When it was over, Ben heaved for breath but remained standing. You peered around him in shock.

“Oh my God…”

There wasn’t much left of the lab, just a ruins, and a meager group of survivors, limping, moaning, struggling. Your face evened out, akin to stone. You had no sympathy for any of them. You endured their studies and were forced to hear their thoughts. You knew that these men weren’t men at all.

You decided to finish the job.

“Cover your ears,” you told Ben. He shot you a questioning look, his brows furrowed. 

“Just trust me,” you said.

Then you opened your mouth, and you sang. Your eyes glowed with power, and the force of your siren song gripped every man still alive in the room. They soon began screaming anew, holding their heads as tears of blood streamed from their eyes. That included your guards, as well as Doctor Eisenstein.

Ben was forced to cover his ears, gritting his teeth. It didn’t affect him as badly, but even he yelled in strain.

You released your hold on the room and stopped singing. By then, all the normal humans were dead.

It was your turn to catch your breath. You’d used up a great deal of energy in a short span of time with your powers, and your body was still weak and undernourished. You took an unsteady step forward and nearly fell.

Ben caught you around your waist. He gathered you up against his chest, and you tried to grab onto his arms and keep your head raised.

His gaze flit over your face. “Can you walk?”

You closed your eyes to try and clear the dizziness and black spots from your vision.

“Uh, yeah. Just give me a minute,” you said.

Ben made a sound of impatience. He hefted you into his arms easily. You gasped and held onto him, and he made his way across the ruined lab.

The elevator doors were fried, but the compartment still worked. Without dropping you, he wedged his hand in between the fused metal doors and ripped them open. Then he stepped inside with you in his arms.

You felt the heat still emanating from his chest. You glanced up at him. There, he met your stare. There was so much you wanted to say, and yet, you had no idea how. You wondered if he felt the same way.

He faced forward again, and you did the same. You two rode the elevator all the way up in silence.

You asked him to set you down on your feet when the elevator finally reached the ground floor. It was merely a lobby area with some thick double doors at the end. You practically ran to it, regardless of your unsteady gait. You just wanted to breathe fresh air and see the outside world.

And it was beautiful. You teared up at seeing the gray sky and the expanse of snow-laden mountains in the distance, even though the air was freezing. A gust of wind shoved at you. You held yourself with a shiver and a gasp as you stared out at the expanse of snow ahead. You weren’t dressed for a cold snap in Siberia. 

Ben wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you back. You doubted he felt the cold much with his invulnerable skin. For once you were jealous.

“Come on, there’s a car over there,” he said, pointing to a small parking lot.

The only scientist who escaped the lab was trying to thrust his key into the door lock of his gray sedan. His hands were shaking badly, but he managed to get the key in. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

The scientist slowly looked up, and he saw Ben’s grim reflection in the window.

It was the last thing he saw.

You and Ben bickered over the navigation to the closest airport. You had the map in your hands, not that you could read it very well in Russian, but he claimed his instincts were leading him south. You once again wanted to throttle him.

You eventually figured out the way to the closest international airport, thanks to the small image of a plane on the map. You didn’t have luggage, which made things easier, but you still needed to compel several people into giving you a pair of tickets (in coach, as to not be suspicious—through security and Customs before you could board the next flight to New York. By the time you and Ben actually sat down in your shitty seats on the plane, you were exhausted in every way.

“You can have the window seat,” you offered. “I’m probably just going to sleep the whole way.”

Ben tacitly agreed and slid in first, but he watched you lower down into the middle seat with a tired sigh. You glanced over at him.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Fine,” he answered, his voice deep and stoic as always. He opened up the bag of snacks he’d snuck onto the plane and started chowing down on some beef jerky. He offered you some, and you took a couple of pieces.

It was hard to tell what he was thinking. You felt a bit of anxiety coming off of him with your abilities, though you supposed that could’ve been from the plane gearing up to take off, finally getting you guys the hell out of here.

Or maybe, like you, flashes of the past decade were still filtering through his mind, making this moment seem unreal.

We actually did it. We made it out.

Even so, you weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you. The last time you two had truly spoken, you’d said a lot of hurtful things, even though many of them were hard truths he’d needed to hear.

“Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!”

“The only thing I really wanted from you was what you could do for my career.”

You remembered the sound of his voice, not even angry anymore. Just resigned.

“It was all an act, huh?”

“Yeah, it was,” you said. “I fucking hope I never have to see your face again.”

The memory of it made your chest sting. It also filled you with questions you were almost afraid to ask.

Did he resent you? Hate you? Was this Bonnie and Clyde escape plan just for convenience’s sake, or…did he actually care about you, deep down?

As you thought about what happened yesterday in his cell, the way he’d saved you from Eisenstein’s experiment—the serum that created the damn nuclear bomb in his chest—you had to wonder…

If he didn’t care about you, why else had he saved you? 

The question continued to revolve in your mind, like discordant notes on a stanza’s refrain, until your exhaustion claimed you.

Flashes of memory scored through your subconscious. They filled your dreams with echoes of pain and the sound of your own voice giving out.

You woke with a start, heaving for breath as panic rose high in your chest and throat. Your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears, and you felt clammy and wrong.

Ben whispered your name sharply. His grip on your arm broke you out of the haze, but it startled you as well. You blinked fast, as if you could clear the nightmare from continuing behind your eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at one of the flight attendants passing by. Ben soon returned his attention to you though.

“Calm down. You’re going to blow our cover,” he said.

You nodded shakily, but you couldn’t help it. Tears welled up in your eyes and made your lips tremble.

“What if they come after us?” you whispered. You were even trembling in your distress. “What if they find us—”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Ben said sternly. “We Kentucky fried all those Commie cocksuckers.”

“I can’t. I can’t go back,” you said, shaking on every word. Your fear, your panic was rising, making your hand clutch at the front of his shirt.

Ben’s frown deepened. He turned toward you and took your face in his big hands, earning a gasp from you. Your watery eyes met his firm ones.

“You’re not going back,” he said. “That shit’s over, you understand me?”

Tears continued to slip down your cheeks, but you gave a jerky nod. He didn’t seem satisfied.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled you in for a hard kiss. Your breath hitched…but your eyes fell closed. You didn’t care that his scraggly beard rasped against your chin. All you could do was focus on the familiarity of his lips moving against yours.

He pulled away slowly, with him seeming to try and gauge your reaction. Your eyes slid open and met his. Your fingers tangled further in his shirt, and you tugged yourself closer, your lips nearing his in askance.

He answered you, kissing you again.

Landing in LaGuardia Airport was even more of a shitshow than it used to be. A mess of people and traffic and tourists and resident commuters, it didn’t matter that it was at one in the morning. Cars honking and people jabbering and the clanking of suitcases rolling across the ground as airport staff droned instructions on the overhead speakers; it was all discombobulating for you, after having spent so long alone and in the dark, with minimal interactions or stimulation.

You had a feeling you weren’t the only one a bit overwhelmed. You noticed Ben’s tense expression and tight shoulders. His head turned at every sharp sound…and even sounds that weren’t there.

You stayed close to him as you two found your way outside the airport. You watched out for him silently, while he kept a hand on your lower back. Neither of you seemed to want to lose each other in the throng. He managed to hail a cab, beating out a businessman who was busy talking on some kind of cordless phone.

You and Ben shared a bewildered look on that one.

Once you were in the cab, sitting beside Ben, you let out a breath of relief. It was still cold in April, and your overlarge tracksuit wasn’t cutting it.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked. You glanced at your companion and gave him a raised finger, imploring him to follow your lead. You had an idea.

“Take us to the nearest department store,” you said.

“At this time? All the stores are closed,” the cabbie replied.

“Just do what she fucking said, all right, pal?” Ben said, none too gently. He was already on edge from the long flight and antsy to get somewhere comfortable.

“Okay, man. Jeez,” the cabbie muttered. He drove off, peeling away from the curb and merging into traffic.

You couldn’t fault Ben; you felt the same way. You laid a comforting hand on his thigh. He glanced at you and calmed, somewhat. He raised his arm and draped it over the back of your seat. You tentatively took it as an invitation, so you scooched over a little to rest against his side.

Letting out a long breath through his nose, he looked out the window at the passing scenery of the city. The nightlife all flashed by in familiar colors and sounds of cars honking and music playing in the distance. Meanwhile, his fingers brushed along your shoulder absently. As the car’s warmth seeped into your bones, you tried your best to stay awake.

You and Ben broke into Sears via the backdoor alleyway, next to one vile smelling dumpster. There you veered off into separate ways in the department store.

You chose to grab a cart before you went into the women’s section. You started with the bras and panties and pulled things off the display tables and hangers, regardless of their price. Dear God, I’ve missed real underwear. You even grabbed a few silky, lacy things in the lingerie section, with a secret smile over your shoulder.

You grabbed a razor while you were at it, along with some other toiletries, shampoo and conditioner, a generous pile of makeup, and some other hair and body products.

You later perused with a half-critical eye at the rest of the women’s clothing. Apparently, jeans were a lot baggier in the ‘90s, and you were finding too many crop tops and overalls.

What the hell is this decade? you thought, but you managed to find a few outfits you liked that were still versatile enough to mix and match. You didn’t know when you’d be able to do this again.

Within the hour, you met back up with Ben, who was carrying all of his clothing finds piled up in his arms. You smiled in amusement. Typical man.

He dumped it all into your cart—a few pairs of pants and shirts and jackets and shoes, and even a men’s electrical shaving kit.

“Good call, lumberjack,” you said, eyeing his beard. Ben shook his head and ran a palm over the sheer length of it.

“Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” he grumbled.

“Ooh, wait,” you said, pointing at a row of suitcases. “That’ll make this easier.”

He agreed. Soon, you had each picked out your suitcases and packed them with your finds. Then you literally rolled out the way you came.

You paused at the door when you heard a clicking sound, followed by the handle turning. A security guard was just as surprised to catch you and Ben as you were to see him. But before he could even raise his gun, you stepped up and touched his face.

Sleep, and forget.

Within seconds, the man’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he slumped to the floor in a heap.

Ben had the next idea of where to go, after hailing another cab. You went along with it, but you thought he could’ve picked something a little more…inconspicuous.

Your eyes were bright, however, when you stared up at the beautiful building of the Plaza Hotel. You had never stayed here before, but it was also the home of the Oak Room. Ben had taken you there for dinner a handful of times, including on your first date.

“Why here?” you asked, glancing up at Ben. He shot you a knowing smile.

“Was feeling a little sentimental, I guess.”

His hand came to rest on your lower back again, and you ventured with him inside to the hotel lobby. It was pristine, as always, with its polished tile floors and vaulted ceilings. It wasn’t check-in hour, so the place was mostly empty, save for a single front desk clerk on the night shift.

That was in your favor though. You two might’ve raided Sears for new clothes, but you definitely didn’t look like the Plaza’s typical guests. With a quasi-flirtatious hand over the young man’s wrist, you were able to compel the clerk to book you and Ben into an entire suite with a king-sized bed, indefinitely, and all complimentary of the Plaza Hotel.

“Enjoy your stay,” he said robotically as he gave you the room keys. You gave him a smile with the glow of your eyes.

“Thank you. I’m sure we will.”

You were run down. You felt it in what seemed like all of the joints, muscles, and sinew in your body when you and Ben got into your suite. The place was lavish and beautifully decorated in soft yellows, crèmes, and beiges, with dark wood furniture, vases full of pink roses, and fine art on the walls, but all you cared about was dumping your suitcase on the floor and dropping face-first onto the bed.

“Oh my God, a real fucking bed,” you said into the clean, soft cotton. It actually brought tears to your eyes.

You managed to turn yourself onto your back as Ben rolled his suitcase to a stop beside yours. He watched you in amusement.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he said, briefly grasping your arm as he passed by. It warmed a smile and a blush onto your face.

“What do you feel like eating?” he asked. “I’m gonna order some food.”

You shook your head and gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

“Anything. I’ll eat literally anything.”

He went to the phone on one of the nightstands and dialed Room Service. He ordered enough food to feed three of him (and one of him could be a whole dinner party). Satisfied with the promise of fast service, he hung up and started unpacking his suitcase for a change of clothes.

You sat up with a groan. “You can take the first shower. I need a minute to get situated.”

More like, gather your strength. Using your powers so much across the course of your journey back to the States had taken it out of you, beyond what you’d expected. You needed at least a few of days of solid R&R. Make it a year.

Ben eyed you as he began to unbutton his shirt.

“Or, you can join me,” he said.

You turned to face him more fully at that. Your mouth parted to reply, but you hesitated. His offer took you by surprise, even though it probably shouldn’t have.

He saw your uncertainty. What surprised you even more was that he didn’t press it. He just nodded slightly, and went into the bathroom to finish undressing. Within a few minutes, you heard the showerhead turn on.

What do you want here? you asked yourself.

It should’ve been a simple question. Somehow, it wasn’t.

But you made a decision. This time, you weren’t thinking three steps ahead. You weren’t thinking about consequences, or what people would expect of you. You just thought about what you wanted, here and now.

Slowly, you got up from the bed. You took a breath to steady yourself, and you went into the bathroom. The mirror was already fogged up with steam. Behind the shower curtain, you could hear Ben scrubbing and humming some tune to himself, making you smile.

You shed the ratty old jumpsuit from your body with slightly shaking hands. From anticipation or nerves, you didn’t know which. After stepping out of the heap of fabric, you called his name softly. You knew he heard it, because the humming stopped.

Ben pulled back the shower curtain to find you standing there, gazing up at him while biting the inside of your lip. His eyes drew down your form, over each and every bare curve. You wondered if he remembered it all with the same clarity as you did, the way his body used to fit against yours.

He reached out his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you into the shower. He slid his free hand around the back of your neck and drew you into a passionate kiss, hotter than the spray from the showerhead beating down on you both. His arm came down around your waist and he turned you around to press you against the wall.

You gasped at the cold impact of the tile, but you welcomed the heat of him. You met his each and every demanding kiss in kind, sinking your fingers through his wet, longer hair and dragging your nails against his scalp. Meanwhile, his hands were everywhere, sliding possessively up your sides, up smooth skin to squeeze your breasts, rolling your hard and sensitive nipples under his thumbs.

You arched into him with a pleased moan. It had been so damn long since you were touched. Perhaps it was a poetic form of irony that he was the last man to have ever fucked you.

Ten long years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about his hands, his mouth, the memories and the feeling of his cock inside you, stretching you, filling you. The thought had you slipping a hand down between his body and yours, roaming down his chest and abs, just to caress the full risen length of him in your palm.

He groaned into your mouth, instinctively pressing himself into your hand and caging you harder against the wall. His lips veered away to kiss and suck his way down your neck. You panted for breath against him.

“Ben, please,” you pleaded. Your hand pumped him faster, twisting along his shaft and goading him to full mast.

He panted with a nod, nosing along your throat. “All right, baby doll. I gotcha.”

He made his way down your body to lap at your breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth and teasing you there with the scruff of his beard. You moaned, had to release your hold on him when he took your hand and pinned it by your head on the warm tile. His other hand skimmed down your wet body to cup your mound.

You whimpered, instinctively pressing yourself into his hand. You felt his familiar smirk between your breasts, just before his thumb drew down between the slick folds of your pussy. It swept back up to brush your clit, and you jolted against his hand, releasing another moan. You were so damn sensitive already.

Ben seemed to enjoy it. He took his time working you up, strumming along and inside your slit with his fingers, making you clench on nothing in anticipation. Just when you opened your mouth to snap at him to fucking touch you already, he obliged you, slipping two long fingers deep into your channel.

You gasped and shuddered at the invasion, but it was a welcome one. He built up a rhythm, rocking his fingers inside of you while his thumb pressed and circled at your clit. It didn’t take long before your inner walls were clenching around his fingers as you shuddered your release. Your warmth coated his hand down to the knuckles.

Ben kissed you deeply, cutting off your moaning of his name. From there, he grabbed your thigh and helped you hike your foot up on the soap dish on the wall, so he could make room for himself between your legs.

He used the remnants of your slick to coat himself, before he sheathed his cock deep inside you with one push. Both of you groaned at the feeling, a sweet relief and a tight fucking fit. It was like your body remembered the shape of him.

“You still take my cock just right. Fit me like a fucking glove,” he said, sliding out of you with ease. He eased back in with a snap of his hips, inching you up higher on the wall. You clung to his arms tighter, with your nails biting fruitlessly into his flesh.

“God, yes,” you uttered.

But just when he started picking up a rougher, delicious set of thrusts, Ben faltered as his body locked up on him with the force of his orgasm. He came quickly, too quickly, for him. His brows furrowed as he caught his breath. You picked up on his surprise, and then his frustration—at himself.

“Fuck!” he growled, fisting a hand against the wall.

You were a little stunned yourself, but quickly you had to try not to laugh. Biting your lip, you reached up to stroke his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you panted. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just been a long time.”

After a few seconds of continued seething, Ben met your gaze. Seeing that you weren’t judging him, he reluctantly settled down.

“Still think I’m an asshole?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard, but you softened into a smile.

“That remains to be seen,” you replied.

He almost huffed. He slid a wet strand of hair behind your ear.

“You still afraid of me then?” he said.

Your amusement faded. You tilted your head at him, raising your brows. He was still inside you, and he asked this question?

But if he was asking you that, then he really did want to know. You grasped his chin and made sure he looked you in the eyes.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked, in a tone that quietly demanded. “Am I safe with you?” 

His eyes held a weight you hadn’t seen before.

“You’re safe with me,” he said.

You felt his sincerity. It rang true in his words, and you saw it for yourself. You believed him.

So you nodded. You let your hand fall to his chest. “Okay.”

He nodded as well. Finally, he untangled himself from you and turned off the showerhead, the water now run cold. He stepped out of the shower first, but he turned to give you a hand. You accepted his help as you came out and grabbed a couple of towels for both of you. After you had yours wrapped around your body, you reached for his arm to earn his attention.

He had been honest with you. You felt it was time for you to give him the same.

“Ben,” you said, with a sigh. “Back then, I lied to you.”

He snorted. “Which time?”

You gave a wry look, but you were serious. You shifted closer to him. You both stood there, dripping wet, with mere inches in between while Ben looked down at you, and you up at him.  

“This. You and me…it wasn’t all an act,” you said, as tears began to well up in your eyes. “I just didn’t want to admit it, even to myself.”

Ben hummed in contemplation. He raised a hand to draw a line down your cheek with his thumb.

“Hmm. Well. Maybe you weren’t the only one,” he said eventually.

Your lips tugged at a smile. He leaned down and met you with another kiss, and this time it was a slow, simmering heat.

Ben took his time in the bathroom afterward to shave his face with the clippers and razor he bought. When he padded back into the dining area, by now fully clothed in a shirt and some sweatpants, he found you already eating without him. You were tearing into some chicken parmesan ravenously while watching a show on TV. 

“What’s on?” he asked, sitting down across from you at the two-seater table. He grabbed one of the plates with his steak and potatoes and began tearing into his own meal. He intended to hit the chicken wings next, or maybe the burger sliders and fries.

“Seinfeld?” You sounded unsure. “It just started. Supposed to be a comedy, I think.”

You and Ben watched the episode until the credits rolled, but he shook his head, licking his fingers after finishing his fifth chicken wing. You were drawn to the sight—grossed out, and yet, a little turned on.

“Nothing happened in that whole goddamn episode,” he said.

You were inclined to agree. So what if they couldn't get a damn table at a Chinese restaurant?

“Okay,” you checked the pamphlet TV Guide. “Let’s try…Friends. It’s on next.”

“The One with the East German Laundry Detergent,” was the name of the episode, according to the TV Guide. You actually enjoyed yourself throughout the whole thing. Even Ben laughed at some of Chandler’s lines. You hadn’t heard that rich, boisterous laugh of his in so long, it made you laugh just by proximity.

By the end of the episode, he was finally done picking at the leftover food. You had finished a long time ago, but you liked seeing him sitting more relaxed in his chair, less on edge.

“Now that one was funny,” you said, when the end theme started to play. Ben balled up his napkin and tossed it on the table.

“At least Rachel’s hot, but don’t tell me she gets with that dopey-eyed pussy.”

“Aw, you mean Ross? I think he’s cute.”

Ben shot you a glance, his brows knitting together. You couldn’t help smiling as you sipped at your glass of wine. He got the feeling you were teasing him. (And you were.)

“Come here,” he said, hooking his foot around a leg of your chair. You yelped as he dragged you close enough to take you by the arm and tip you over, into his lap. You allowed it with a laugh and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hand slid up your thigh in your little pajama shorts, while you caressed his cheek and explored the new beard he was sporting. It was nice and trim, along with the smoother sweep of his hair.

“I like this, by the way,” you said. Your nails scratched through his beard playfully. You kissed his cheek. “Very handsome.”

Ah, there it is, the reappearance of that smug smile of his. You decided to take it down a peg.

“I didn’t mind the lumberjack though,” you teased. “I knew no one would recognize us with that shag carpet on your face.”

Ben’s face fell into annoyance. He stood, picking you up along with him. After he brought you over to the bed, he fairly dropped you down onto it, making sure to smack your ass for good measure. You squealed with laughter.

“You wanna fucking sass me? Fine,” he said, raising a brow. “I’ll just have to punish you.” 

“Nooo, don’t do that. I’ll probably like it,” you said, with both amusement and desire glinting in your eyes while you slid your arms around his broad shoulders. You slipped your legs around his waist as well, guiding his hips down against your already pulsing core. 

Ben broke slightly, his amusement peeking through.  

“I don’t remember you having such a smart mouth,” he said. You trailed your fingers across his cheek. 

“I think you’ll learn to like it,” you said, shortly before you lured him into a kiss.  

He fucked you well into the early morning, where you two finally got some sleep. Around mid-afternoon, you woke and ate and showered and continued to relearn each other’s bodies. You spent the entire day and night in that hotel room, recuperating and healing in your own ways. 

Late that night, you rested in the crook of his arm while he smoked a blunt. You’d compelled one of the bell men to find some reefer. You knew it would help Ben sleep better, and it served to calm you down when anxiety threatened to choke you again. 

It was never as bad as it was on the plane ride over, but sometimes it hit you at odd moments. 

Are they coming after us? Does Vought already know we’re here? Will they try to ship us back?

You knew you had been careful, but anything was possible. 

You extended an expectant hand. Ben took one more puff before he handed the blunt over. You puffed a couple of times and passed it back with a cough. 

“I still don’t really like this shit,” you said in distaste. 

Ben chuckled. “You still don’t know how to smoke it, either.”

You sighed in amusement, stroking a hand over his thigh absently. You two hadn’t bothered getting dressed in hours. Cheers played on the TV—something you both could agree on.

“I need to check in with my family,” you said after a while. You missed your brother especially. God, your nephew had to be close to fifteen years old by now. The thought made your eyes water, but with a deep breath, you managed to taper it down.

You turned to the man beside you. “Do you…do you have family anywhere?”

Ben let out another long puff of smoke. 

“Anyone who mattered is long dead,” he said. He looked down at you, meeting your gaze. “You’re all I’ve got.”

You smiled a little sadly, but you grasped his hand and threaded your fingers through his. 

“But I’ve got a score to settle,” he said. The hardening tone of his voice concerned you.

“With who?” you asked. 

Ben reached over to the nightstand and put out his blunt on an ashtray. He shook his head. 

“Everyone,” he said lowly, “in that goddamn Tower.”

You frowned. You released his hand so you could turn over and face him. 

“Ben, I know how you feel, but think about this for a second.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about since we got out of motherfucking Siberia,” he said tersely. “Those cocksuckers are gonna pay for what they did.”

You took a steadying breath. “Okay, taking on the team is one thing. But Arthur, Stan Edgar, all of Vought? It’s dangerous.”

“And? Don’t try to tell me what I can’t fucking do,” he barked. 

You glared at him, sitting up and taking the blankets with you to cover yourself.  

“Don’t you fucking snap at me!” Your voice cracked just as firmly as his. “I’m trying to tell you to be careful. Because if not, we could wind up exactly where we were before, or worse. And I told you, I can’t…I can’t go back.”

You began to break down at the end there. Your lips trembled as your anxiety bubbled over, making tears spring to your eyes. They stung hot and escaped the corners of your eyes. 

“Ben, I can’t—” you hiccupped. 

His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, but now, it was less so in anger. He took your face into his hands like he had on the plane, so you’d focus on him. 

“Hey, hey,” he said, earning your attention. “That’s never gonna happen. I’m not gonna let it happen. But I am going to put all those spineless bastards into the fucking ground where they belong.”

He wiped at your tears with his thumbs. After a brief pause, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips. Then another, a reassuring kiss on your forehead.

He pulled back to earn your gaze.

“Then we take it all back,” he said. “You and me.”

It took you a moment to come back to yourself. You were still apprehensive about this plan, but you knew you didn't want him to do it alone. Nor did you want to end up alone, without him. You sniffed and nodded. 

You and me.    

 AN: 😮‍💨 Did you get hit in the feels? If yes, get ready for more of that. But after their long journey back to the U.S., their relationship is shifting now, hopefully in a more positive way (despite the tough road Ben is setting them on).

Also, there might just be a BMD easter egg in there somewhere. Did you catch it? 😉

Next Time:

More heart-to-hearts, more of "the Plan," and we get a bit more into Ben's side of things...

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward. Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 10

Join Patreon 🌟 || Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Soldier Boy Tag List:

If you would like to follow along as I post each chapter, please follow my side blog @zepskieswrites with notifications on so you don’t miss out. 💚

@spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @adoringanakin @rizlowwritessortof @chernayawidow

@midnightmadwoman @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@waynes-multiverse @my-stories-vault @syrma-sensei @alwaystiredandconfused @globetrotter28

@mrsjenniferwinchester @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @k-slla @deanbrainrotwritings

@jackles010378 @deans-daydream @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @just-levyy

@leigh70 @kmc1989 @ghostslillady @siampie @jessjad

@beautyvaliant @mimaria420 @kaleldobrev @pieandmonsters @twinkleinadiamondsky

@stoneyggirl2 @sl33pylilbunny @spnfamily-j2 @mostlymarvelgirl @artemys-ackles

[forgers-therapist]

tinyyyyy people (part 9)

The Forgers (before Bond “borf”)

[deemoth]

Dragona Joestar doodle?

slightly too rendered to b considered a real doodle but here she is!! spoilers below

I'm still not entirely solid on hcs regarding her but I made her look a bit more like me bc I do love her a lot,, pink-chan<3 I was DISTRAUGHT when I thought she was going to die earlier in the manga. Her and her bunny boyfriend, Usagi </3 if it does happen later you best believe Im going to drown myself in art requests again,,,, WHICH I'M STILL ACCEPTING BTW!! VERY preferably jjba related :3 looks at my moots with big pleading eyes for more reqs/suggestions

[diesaur]

Forgot i made this back when first chapter came out

[questionzee]

financial troubles? better call Key West!

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

Steve Rogers Era Part 9❤️😍

Steve with his closest comrade and friend, Natasha Romanoff🫶

[dcxdpdabbles]

May I please ask for more Royal Consort?? 🥺🥺🥺

Danny stares at the piles of paperwork sitting on the desk. They are in perfect stacks, each glowing in different neon lights- representing the territories they come from- and the boxes of scrolls waiting for his review.

There were also piles and piles of parchment. Stacks upon stacks of scrolls. And he thinks some crystals that contain oral recordings of reports. All glowing. All various colors.

It was like a rave barfed all over an office and left an unholy mess.

He can tell by just looking that this will take him days, if not weeks, to go through. Let's not even think about about getting it processed.

Pointdexter is floating about the room, muttering and checking a clipboard periodically. Danny had figured that he would stop hiding in his room after the third concubine was sent since he woke up. The three were outraged that Consort Danny refused them entry to the castle, claiming they were gifts for the King and not the human toy he picked up.

They left after Pointdexter restrained Danny from reaching for his ghost-hunting gear. He made it clear that as the Manager of the Hunt-Third in command but more respected by ghost nobility due to being a ghost himself- King Phantom had no need for

They left after Pointdexter restrained Danny from reaching for his ghost-hunting gear. He made it clear that King Phantom had no need for concubines as the Manager of the Hunt- Third in command but more respected by ghost nobility due to being a ghost himself.

The King was not around to formally dismiss them, which meant the the many men who were sent to Phantom as gifts could not stay in the castle. They would have to return when Phantom returned from the human world to evaluate the situation.

Sir John the Pure had been only one overjoyed to be dismissed like this. It seemed he was the youngest of the Cosmos tribe but suffered from a rare core condition. Sir John could not use any ghost powers without his core threatening to shatter in his chest.

He was a human with blue skin and stardust-dusted hair but without the added benefit of phasing through walls in the Infinite Realms. Sir John was one of the ghosts born in the Zone, making his condition more shameful.

Besides his pretty face, there wasn't much Sir John had to offer the Realms, and thus, the family was eager to marry him off if only to get some political power through him. Danny had ordered Pointdexter to create a nearby hotel for Sir John so he wouldn't have to go home to his less-than-ideal family.

He even dismissed the servants who accompanied the young ghost- they were the same age- and instead had his aid find better servants to treat the ghost right.

Danny ignored the adoring gazes the ghost threw at him when he was offered the hotel, especially with Timothy Drake watching everything. He finally understood what Pointdexer meant about the human ambassador.

He may pretend to be clueless, but a fierce intelligence burns brightly in his eyes. Drake was watching everything far too carefully to fall his act. Danny's question was how he had managed to convince him before.

Had he just been overwhelmed with the whole Consort thing or was he more aware now that he was inside the Hunt that served as an extension of himself?

"Danno!" Poindexter screams in joy upon seeing him. "You're up! Excellent! The purchase orders on the desk must be paid by nine today."

The ghost flies behind him, pushing him towards the desk even with Danny digging his feet into the carpet. "Why do all these have to be paid by nine pm?"

"Oh no, no, no." Pointdexter hums, throwing him into the chair and pressing a fountain pen in his hand in one clean motion. His smile is dead, and his eyes are soulless as the fifties ghost says, "They need to be paid by nine am."

"But, it eight thirty am right now!?" Danny gasps. The grip on his shoulder goes unbearably tight as his Haunt manager looms over him.

"You better start signing." The teen says in a way that is not quite a threat but not entirely friendly. "The second you put your signature on these forms, payments are sent out. We. Need. To. Pay."

Danny reaches for the closed form, shaking a little in fear as paper after paper is slid under his hand and pen. Every time he finished the last loop in his name, Poindexter quickly switched it out with another while speaking in a fast-paced tone to explain what he was signing.

"Payments for a festival hosted in the FarForzen. Payment for the food we consume. Payment for the clothes. Payment for the wood. Payment for anti-slavery act. Payment for soldiers harmed in the war. Payment for castle repairs. Payment for the ice sculptures. Payment to fund the apology gift baskets for the rejected concubines. Payment for MY payroll is behind. Payment for the bath salts King Phantom ordered. Payment for medical treatment in FarFrozen."

Danny's hand was starting to cramp up, and he wasn't even near the middle half of the pile. He lost himself in the paperwork, entering a near-meditational stage. Hours later, someone knocks on the wood of his door, dragging Danny from the pits he has fallen into.

It takes him a moment to get his eyes to focus on the figure in the doorway. The paperwork glows in various colors. His eyes hurt, okay?. It's Sir John carrying a tray of food and beaming at him. "Hello, Dearest Consort. I brought you some food."

"Um, why?" Danny asks after a moment. He meant why was he ghost here wearing a butler uniform when he should be at the hotel he set up for him.

"Sir John is an excellent chief," Pointdexer mutters, looking through some scrolls while flouting seven papers around him. His eyes flicker between each one in practice ease- apparently, he was a season dungeon master in life?. "I offered him a job when keeping maintenance of the Haunt grew too difficult for me on my lonesome. Our last staff walked out after their payroll was delayed so much. Not that I couldn't blame them."

Sir John scurries inside, placing the tray by Danny. Seeing someone so regal do servant work was a bit jarring, but somehow, he made the action of serving tea look like an art form. "I don't mind how long it takes for my payment to come through, Dearest Consort. To be by your side is more than enough for me."

Pointdexer shoots Danny a look before he turns his papers around and, on them, spells out the words, "He has a crush on you. Want me to fire him?"

Danny opens his mouth to speak, but once again, someone knocks on his door. It's Timothy Drake, dressed to the nines in a stylish old-timey suit. Something that was before Pointdexter time. "Hello, Consort Fenton. I was wondering if you needed help in the admissions department."

Danny stares, ignoring the way Sir John's stardust turns an angry bright red. "Why do you ask?"

"Pass the time mostly," Drake laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Not much to do around the castle now that I'm a human sacrifice."

Pointdexer clears his throat pointedly "If you require entertainment, I can arrange that easily, Mr. Drake. Your offer is gracious but unnecessary."

A paper floats over to Danny from Pointdexer. On it, the word SPY glows brightly. Right, Mr. Drake was still operating under the impression Danny and Phantom were married and that the king was madly in love with him.

If there was a chance to see if the King was gearing up for war and undermining him, befriending the Consort way over his head would be the perfect way to do so.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thank you, though." Danny seconds, making sure to keep his suspicions off his face. Drake smiles, and suddenly, Danny realizes something.

Drake's smile is the same one those elites at the Wayne Gala wore. The same kind was on the three potential concubines' faces before they realized they would not be allowed entry. It was the smile of someone of high society. Not someone like Danny, who was raised firmly in the middle class. He doesn't think he would be able to fake it no matter how many years he studied to be considered upper-class

A chill runs down his spine.

How was Phantom so quickly able to blend in with them? Especially if he was only two years in the future of a world that had fallen apart?

Was King Phantom.....lying to him?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

An entire plane of existence away, King Phantom sits before the tense and somewhat nervous members of the Justice League, the United Nations representatives, and the Lord of Time himself, Clockwork.

He laces his fingers under his chin, keeping his cold stare a few inches away from a glare but not quite there. His formal attire showcases his status and his position, but it's the spear, the flaming crown, and the

"Ladies and Gentlemen." He starts voicing, echoing the clacking of ice, "I want to put to rest that I will be starting a war with this planet for the attack on Consort Danny."

There was a mutter of relieved sighs through the room, only for the temperature to drop so quickly and rapidly that puffs of smoke were visible whenever someone breathed.

King Phantom's eyes were alight with rage as he spoke in a deadly calm voice, "I will instead begin the invasion of all nearby planets. Earth will keep its freedom only because my Consort has a small, insignificant attachment to this world. But make no mistake, you are all pets at the most, and everyone outgrows their pets eventually. Or outlives them. It's the only way to keep my Consort's honor intake within the Afterlife Court. I will give you one week to say goodbye, and then I will kill fifty percent of all life on this planet."

The entire room felt like they were placed in a guillotine. No one moved. No one spoke. Everyone- including the people watching at home huddled around screens- was too tight to move.

Clockworks bows his head, ashamed of what he's about to allow to happen to keep the timeline flowing correctly.

He raises his staff.

"My King, may I suggest another way to keep Consort Danny's honor?" Clockwork shifts into his elder form as the King glances at him.

"What is your suggestion?"

"Why not...."Clockwork words fade a little, aware that Phantom was growing impatient for his hesitation. It wouldn't do to ruin the king's plan, no matter how terrible dumb Clockwork thought it was. "Why not instead divorce? The Consort honor will not be a failed reflection of your inability to keep him safe as a protection spirit if he is no longer your reelection?"

The room gawked at Clockwork but no more than the King, who leaped to his feet in outrage. "You dare suggest I lose the love of my life-"

"You can simply remarry him after a week." Clockwork interprets embarrassment and wants to get through his hair-brain idea. "Earth could make up for the disrespect they showed the royal family by hosting the ceremony."

King Phantom sits back down, rubbing at his chin."That would be better than the alternative. Plus, it ensures Danny wouldn't be angry with me for killing anyone."

"Yes, as Consort Danny wisely said: Have you tried turning it off and back on again?" It took everything in Clockwork to say that sentence as seriously as possible. "This way, no blood is spilled. Consort Danny can finally have that human version of the ceremony he always wanted. You would no longer be anchored to him with the new vows, allowing you to be on Earth without straining Consort Danny's body. The list of benefits is long, Sir."

Phantom looks increasingly gleeful with every word out of his high advisor's mouth. "I can also release that homewrecker, Drake, back to the human realm!"

Clockwork bites his tongue "Yes, my King. Though again, I do not see a future, past or present, where Timothy Drake is infuated with the Consort. He just wants to protect the human race."

"Lies! Did you not see the way he was dancing at the gala?" Phantom hissed, curling his hands into tight fists, but his eyes were alight with glee. " He was practically undressing!"

"Okay." Clockwork shifts into his middle-aged form, trying very hard to keep the annoyance off his face. He doesn't think he is successful but it at least adds more to their whole facade. "The wedding, sir?"

"Oh yes! I shall devoice my husband and marry once more. People of Earth, you have one month to prepare our wedding, and I shall put...you in charge of it!" Phantom points to a very silent as the grave glaring man in a bat costume. "Just for some motivation I will now remove gravity across Earth."

He snaps his fingers, and the world panics as everyone starts flouting. It lasts only for a few seconds, but it's enough to be reminded of how mighty the Ghost King was.

Phantom gives Batman one finally mad smile. "Do not disappoint me:"

The two ghosts vanish in a swirl of the green light portals.

[thevoidstaredback]

Phase Two of the plan was set to take place during the next Wayne Gala. Meaning they had exactly four weeks to plan out every meticulous detail. It was going to be great.

Week One

Planning for a gala is never easy. Planning for a Wayne Gala is even harder. Invitations, as per social standard, must go out at least four weeks prior to the event, so the guest list was first priority. Tim was put in charge of this. He elected the help of Luke Fox.

"Dude, you are never going to believe what Bruce did."

Luke sighed. "I leave for one month- What'd B do?"

Tim grinned up at him. "We're pranking the Justice League."

A beat. "What?"

"We're pranking the Justice League."

"Okay... Why?" He asked. "Better question: How? Don't they already know who you all are?"

Tim shook his head, pulling up the security feed from Phase One to send to his pseudo uncle. "They have no idea who we are behind our masks. Better yet, they have no idea how many of us actually operate within the city."

"There's no way."

"Right? I was so sure that they'd know by now, y'know? Because Superman has memorized our heartbeats, and we've met him both in and out of costume; Wonder Woman's Wonder Woman, and she has the Lasso of Truth- though, I'm pretty sure there's a way around that if she ever did try and get our names that way."

"And you called me here because..?" Luke prompted.

"Right!" Tim opened a different tab on his tablet. "I need you to help me make a guest list for the next Wayne Gala."

"Isn't that like, months out?"

"Not anymore! We're throwing on in exactly four weeks, so this guest list needs to be made now so that invitations can go out yesterday."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

Tim met his gaze. "I said what I said. Will you help me or not?"

With another sigh, Luke relented. "Alright. You can fill me in on everything later- And I do mean everything. I want every detail. Also, why didn't you pull me into this before?"

"We weren't sure if you'd be in town for this, and you were gone during Phase One. Also, we didn't actually intend on Selina and Kate being in on this, either. Well, maybe Kate."

"You got Selina and Kate in on this before me?" He looked absolutely heartbroken. "Wow. I thought I was your favorite."

Tim shook his head. "I'm pulling you in now, aren't I? Now, c'mon, we've got work to do.

The hardest part about setting up a Guest List is knowing the relationships between everyone. Everyone will be amicable with each other no matter who was invited, especially at an event hosted by the Wayne Family, but distaste for present company will be made known.

For this particular gala, there will be a mix of upper and middle class attendees to cover the odd additions that are the members of the Justice League.

"What's our priority, Tim?"

"Guest list, seating arrangements, and interference."

"'Interference'?"

"Who's going to stand between people if families of hostile relations run into each other."

Luke shook his head. "Rich people."

"Luke," Tim said, "I hate to break it to you, but you're 'rich people'."

A gasp. "I am? Tim! How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, man," he shook his head sadly, laying his hand gently on Luke's arm, "But it's not my fault. It was your parents."

"My parents?"

"A betrayal of the worst kind."

"How could they!" he sobbed.

Tim rubbed his back, "I know. There, there."

"Tim? Luke?" Kate asked, walking into the office Tim had commandeered. "What they hell are you two doing in here?"

The two look up, sharing a laugh. "Nothing, Kate."

She raised here eyebrow skeptically, "Uh-huh, sure. Do you have a guest list set yet? We need to get invites made up and sent out."

"Almost," Tim answered.

Luke shrugged. "I still don't understand why we can't just host an open event. It'll make it so much easier."

"And risk our identities being released to the public?" Kate said, "Not to mention the amount of rouges that'll get in."

"They'll try to get in anyway."

"Extra security," Tim mumbled, switching to the document that was shared between the family for planning, "Got it."

"No-" Luke turned back to him, "That is not what I said."

Kate laughed. "Get back to work, you two. I'll be back in a bit to print off the invitations."

"We can get away with sending the invited late because we're The Waynes," Tim muttered to himself, "but any later than a day and we're on cracked ice."

"Isn't the saying 'thin ice'?"

"Only if you don't wear a mask o cowl to fight crime at night."

"Touché."

Part 8 Part 10

[maiaczy]

In honor of chapter 3 coming out soon, more Jojolands memes

[paovuante-vuanteador]