#Shooting stars and three heroes

[cohapon]

May 2 was the birthday of my oc, Panny! This is a drawing I did then to celebrate and a little comic.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Valentine's day spirit. Superbat edition.

When Phantom sets foot on the Justice League base many years later, he expects anything but not Flash pointing finger at him and screaming about "legendary child who made Superbat canon".

~~~~

Being in Metropolis because of a ghost hunt right in the middle of a battle between Lex Luthor and Superman was not the best outcome, especially considering that Jack had his three-year-old son with him. But without such a combination of circumstances, they would never have found out that "Ghost!" "Daddy, no!" Ectoblast that Jack shot at the target of their hunt touches Superman and..really hurts him.

There were two sides to Danny-the ghostbuster's son and the astronerd. It is clear which half of him did not have a chance to win.

Danny threw his space rocket toy aside and grabbed father's arm. In the next second, boy had already sunk his teeth into Jack's fingers, forcing him to drop weapon. Youngling quickly jumped off and picked up ectoblast and then ran towards Superman. "Fly away! I'll hold him!" Danny stood up to try to cover up ghost (or alien?) in case Dad took not one but a whole bunch of shooting things with him again.

Jack: Get away from my son, ghost. Superman: Sir, I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I'm not a ghost. Jack: Danny, come to me, he's trying to hide his identity and manipulate us. Danny: No. If the heroes are being attacked, then someone must protect them too. Jack: But he's a ghost.. Danny: Alien or ghost is not so important, Daddy. He's in pain, and he's protecting this city, not haunting it. It's wrong to try to catch him for experiments. I forbid you to do that. Jack: Danny, champ, you're wrong.

Lex: Hah, what an interesting substance. Despite the other aggregate state, or rather its absence, it is so similar to kryptonite. Superman: Lex, is this a portable lab? Now is not the time, in case you haven't noticed. Lex: There is always time for science. I think my colleague will agree, right? "Similar to kryptonite?" Jack muttered to himself.

Jack: So Superman wasn't my target. And we are not colleagues. There is only one insanely rich man with questionable moral values with whom I am ready to do work, and your surname is clearly not Masters. Lex: It's a pity, but still, if you want to carry out the delivery of your wonderful weapons or exchange experiences, then call this number. Luther quickly shoves a business card into Fenton's hand. Jack*throws it away*: Come on, son, let's go back to the hotel, you've skinned your knees.

~~~The Evening. The Roof of the mentioned hotel~~~

"My friend Sam is also very frightening. And she also likes dark.“ The boy paused for a minute of thinking. “You want to kiss your goth friend?" "W-What makes you think that, kid. We’re colleagues, I respect him very much and.." "So you want to. It’s okay, I’d like to kiss Sam too but I’m afraid she’s gonna hit me. You have the same problem?" "It’s a little more complicated for adults." Kal begins to explain but stumbles upon Danny’s completely unimpressed look. Yeah, this boy apparently has heard 'kids would understand when they grow up' lectures at least thousand times. "But you’re basically right."

~~~~

When Batman himself comes to their hotel the next day as a representative of the Justice League to make sure that Mr. Fenton has no desire to harm Superman in the future and to tell that Superman is not going to press charges because of the ectoblast that injured him, Danny refuses to leave the room.

Jack: Oh, Danny, I thought you dropped your space rocket yesterday, it's a good that Alicia's Christmas present isn't lost. Danny: Well, dad, I left it on the roof of a bad bad man, yeah, but Uncle Kal returned it last night and we talked for a while. Jack: About what? Space, my little star? *Father immediately assumes that Danny would like to ask about everything real alien*. Boy*blushes and shakes his head negatively*: No, not about it.

Jack: Then what it was about? Danny: Secret superhero things. I can't tell you. I agreed to withhold that information as part of a pinky swear. Batman: And what about me, young man? You can tell me, right? Batman couldn't resist talking with such a cute kid. The boy thinks only for a second before hurriedly trying to push his father out of the room. Danny: Dad, come out for a minute and don't eavesdrop. I'll tell you when you can come in. The big man laughingly obeys. Lil child checks the reliability of the closed door and runs up to Batman. Danny: And so, Mr. Batman, first promise not to laugh or hit Uncle Kal. Batman: I promise? Danny: Good. This is very important information. Batman: I'm listening.

Danny: He thinks you're terrifying and wants to kiss you. And since he is afraid that you will hit him for this, I recommended him to appease you with a pie cooked according to his mother's recipe. Well, you know, since you love sweets and his parents' farm has the most wonderful apples in all states. He rarely cooks himself, but he will try for you, so even if he doesn't succeed, pretend that you liked it, please. Batman:...

Batman: Would you like to work in intelligence for the Justice League when you grow up? Danny: Actually, I want to be an astronaut. Batman: Our base is located in space. Danny:

Danny: Hmm, then I'll think about your offer.

Batman: Great. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fenton. You can count on a job recommendation from me. Do you want anything as compensation for your consultation? Danny: Actually, yes. Mr. Batman, tell me honestly, are you a bat on a frugivorous diet like Giant golden-crowned flying fox or you are a Vampire Bat? Sam says that such a big bat can only be a vegetarian and uncle Kal said your son was more than happy to steal strawberries from his garden with Superboy but..

~~~

Batman tries to behave naturally for a week. However, the sweet tooth inside him still makes him clamp Superman in the corner and question him. "Where the hell are the pies you promised to cook for me, Clark?"

[shanieveh]

dangerously yours !

— genshin men as the villain, you're the hero and throw some love in the mix

sacrifices the world to save you— ALHAITHAM, scaramouche, diluc, THOMA, childe, chongyun

He knew you planned to sacrifice yourself. He saw it coming. And he was ready to prevent every bit of it. He loved you. Once from afar, once from a different identity, a falsehood, a lie. He did all of that to see you, to know you and he fell. Hard.

You were a saint, the embodiment of good morality. A hope for the future. The opposite of him. And as you brace yourself for the moment your soul leaves for a new world, all for his arms to be wrapped in your body. You open your eyes and found a new world, the sound of bombs from where you once were. But that didn't matter. Not when his eyes sparkle more than crystals.

let's you defeat them— kaveh, VENTI, arataki itto, AYATO, albedo, xingqiu, cyno, aether, zhongli, tartaglia, heizou

As your blade came so close to slashing his neck you were finally hailed as a hero. A champion, a winner. But that void in your heart, a trophy can't fill that piece of your heart. He told you it was okay, as both of you staged a fight. Now he was tortured, punished for his crimes. He made you defeat him so you'll be once again called a hero.

You visit him almost everyday, always with an anonymous identity. He still smiled even with his tortured frame, one from lashes, some from his couple inmates. How can he sacrifice all his of career for you? It was easy really. No amount of punishment could exceed your cries, and that beautiful pained face he can't bear to see.

you join the darkside— kaeya, AYATO, albedo, pantalone, scaramouche, pierro, dainsleif, tartaglia

He lured you right to his trap. It all started when you met him, it was like Eve drawing closer to the sneaky snake. But just like it, your first meeting was destiny. Your family always wanted you to be a kind loving child. And you grew up as one. But as you learned more about the other side, you realized how wrong the "morally right" actually is.

It started off with a petty theft, to some injuries and then violence. With him at your side, it felt like pure adrenaline rushed to your veins. He taught you reality, away from the fairy tale built by the stupid legends of heroes. He made you feel that pain and hatred all came from love. You made him feel that loving was never enough to show just how much he adores you. Bang.

he becomes good— scaramouche, THOMA kazuha, VENTI, kaveh, tighnari, zhongli, bennett, xiao

He was never really evil. He was hurt. And when you feel him, and touch and be with him you learn how he actually is. How he was supposed to be. He used his power to see you often, maybe battle with you, but with the many chances to defeat you he chose not to. The many chances to destroy your plans, he left.

On quiet nights, away from the prying eyes and evil plans. There lies both of you, one asleep, one awake. He looks at the person lying on the grass and stares at the peaceful sky and saw no difference. You were the shooting star. His wish. He can't be evil, and he never was. And just for you, he never will. He can't stand to lose you, and he would give everything he built for that.

BONUS: he sacrifices himself— thoma, KAZUHA, alhaitham, childe, albedo, diluc, KAEYA

No... it can't be. He cant die like that. Not for you. It wasn't how it was supposed to be. Pleas of you wanting to wake him up. He was supposed to be a foe. But how he loved you so. He made you feel like you had a purpose, that you were more than just a weapon of justice. He made you feel alive and in doing so it killed him.

The war was over. But was it worth it? It wasn't. Killing him, destroyed you, tore you to pieces. He planned all of this. He knew he was... and in the palm of his hand lie the letter. A plan? A story? No.. it only stated three words you were so scared told him. A feeling you now regret.

"I love you."

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter two

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 3.2k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | author attempts to write action-ish scene | reader gets beat up | don't worry jinx saves the day | jinx being jittery | yes there is a plot to this ff | yes i am making this up along i go | PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS | not beta read | mentions of blood | jinx and reader finally become friends |

❛❛ CRASHLANDIN' ON YA' ❜❜

a shooting star was your first impression of it.

the past week had been terrible; there were no bonfires on the beach this time because everyone was at the town center celebrating for whatever reason. you stumbled onto the beach sand and stayed on the ground coughing hysterically.

sand stuck to your wet body and hair. you were so tired you could barely keep your head up. what was this, the third time you’ve been waterboarded? but hey, who’s keeping count? this is the price that comes with being a good person. curiosity killed the cat, and it was going to get you killed one day.

you’ve accepted it— death, and if you were going to die, it might as well be for something cool like trying to take down the gang that has your home in a chokehold. what’s so wrong with wanting to go out a hero? 

then that’s when you saw it. a bright white star rushing away in the sky. 

the perfect time to make a wish! you folded your hands together and closed your eyes.

star… make my life worth more than this.

you opened your eyes and the star was…coming towards you?

your eyes widened, and you booked it off the sandy territory, losing balance every now and then. dunking and hiding behind the concrete wall that separated the beach from everything else, you covered your ears. the debris covered the portion of the beach, some even thrown over your head.

you kept your eyes closed for a long time before noticing the orange hue of the flames. getting up from your hiding spot and walking towards the destruction. there wasn’t much fire so those would be easy to put out. the fire wasn’t your concern though, it was what you would find. was someone there? are they alive?

coughing and waving your hand in front of your face to wave out the smoke, you finally found someone. they were crawling away from the rubble. you run over to them, but just as you get there their body has already gone limp. it was a female your age, the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen, with a purple streak.

you knelt down and scooped her up in your arms, the stranger in your arms was light— and you had the strength of the average woman. 

overtime the locals got her settled down, and she became flosnum’s talk of the town. apparently, there were three other people in the blimp that crashed but didn’t survive. not that the blue-haired mystery woman would know since she spent the majority of her time being nursed back to health and secluding herself from the rest of the world in her new complementary flosnum home. flosnum has had a huge population surge which meant a lot more houses and some left vacant. 

as creepy as it sounds, you couldn’t stop thinking about thinking about her. washing dishes? thinking of her. bartending? thinking of her blue hair. staying at that boring shop filled with gunk? thinking about what kind of person she is. 

it’s safe to say she lived in your mind rent-free. you couldn’t help it; she just seemed so cool! coming from the times you’ve been able to catch a glimpse of her. she dressed so strangely, too. you wanted to ask her so many things. where was she from? is her hair naturally blue? is her favorite color blue? what does she like?

just what kind of person was she?

the first time you were able to formally meet her was two days ago. 

TINKETTES: SCRAPS & PARTS

leon, the old man who owned this place, had died. rest in peace. he left behind a museum of metal scrapes, tools, wires, and a whole bunch of other stuff that you didn’t understand. the only reason you were tending to it was because leon was the bar owner’s brother and he said he would give you a raise if you did this one favor for him. 

in the back area for employees only, you threw a ball at the wall and caught it. you did that a couple hundred times before you heard the windchimes sung. someone was here? nobody ever visited.

trying to get out of the chair too fast, you ended up falling on your side. you opened the door to find her, of all people. 

you swear you’re not a creep, but just from her backview, she was gorgeous. you wondered what she looked like with long hair. 

"need help with anything?”

it was a normal day at the ‘SEVEN CHIMES’ (aka the pub). mindlessly placing drinks down in front of customers, you barely registered your coworker’s call for you. “[name]!” you turn around and run over to the counter.

“yeah?”

“big don wants to see you after your shift.” stella states as she mixes a drink. a warning. a sharp chill went down your spine, maintaining a smile, you nod.

shit. what was it now? had you not already paid enough money for the month? or was it the incident with the pervert customer? 

you spent the rest of your shift with a gaping pit in your stomach. serving drinks, rowdy customers, talks about the mysterious blue-haired girl.

walking into big don’s office felt like walking into a dark room: ensure of what you would be greeted with. “stella said you needed me?” the sickly pale man, but not thin, leaned back in his chair with a dice between his fingers. his other hand tapped the desk, staring directly at you. “did i not give you a task?”

straighten your posture and answer “you… you did! you told me to hurry up and—“

“—get rid of the shop.” he finishes your sentence. “yes. yes, i did say that, yet i have not seen any progress.”

“i…” your throat felt dry. terribly dry. fidgeting with your hands you finally gain the courage to speak. “i did! i mean i am close to doing so— a girl wanted the shop.”

he nods slowly, rubbing his chin. “…good…good…” big don leans closer to his desk. “you still have to pay for your recent accident, you are aware of that, correct?” 

 “yes sir,” you respond nodding frantically.

letting out a small mocking huff his eyes finally turn away from him. “you’re lucky, you did something good. i’m not as angry as i was before.” he waves his hand to shoo her away. “i will deal with you some other time.”

wasting no time you got out of the office.

you were going to kill him one day.

you didn't dwell on it too much. that wasn’t your thing— as a matter of fact, that was the only thing keeping her alive. it happens, and then it passes over, no need to dwell on it [name]. patting your head (which stella points out to be a nervous tick), you waited for the blue-haired beauty.

she was cute and all, but she seriously needed to hurry up and appear so she could give her the keys to this place. if she didn’t, you would die (half joking). thinking about it… did you say that you would come to her or for her to come to you? you honestly couldn’t remember.

letting out a groan, you put your hands on your face. if you keep looking at the same weirdly bent metal scrap, you are going to lose your shit.

great, now you had to get up.

was walking around flosnum begging people for the tiny pieces of information they had on bluey beauty odd? yes, next question.

if you had to walk another ten minutes in the scorching hot sun, you would melt. being on the verge of heat stroke, you place your hand over your forehead to block the sun and lose your balance a bit, walking backward. you felt your back hit someone.

“oopsie daisy!” the person said in surprise.

turning around to apologize, your eye widens, “bluey!”

she looked less… sad and more alive the last time you saw her. there was neon splatted all over her clothes, and a sparkle in her pink eyes twinkled. she then narrowed at the sight of you, “you…” she was holding a box inside her left arm and was licking an ice cream.

you grab onto her shoulders, “i was looking everywhere for you!” you felt like you could finally breathe without having to worry about dying the next day.

“you were?” she tilts her head, confused about why someone would look for her.

you wrap an arm around her shoulder, she tries to move away from you. normally, you would care about being impolite, but you were on the verge of fainting. “surprise surprise, you got the shop!” you jingle the keys in front of her face. “please, move in as soon as possible.” you said smiling, she finally slips away from your grasp causing you to stumble a bit.

her full frame was now in your view. she was slim, toned core and arms, had an awesome tattoo, and was really pale— too pale for a place like this; some woman would die to have that body.

“gonna give me those keys, or was your real plan just to check me out?” she continues to lick her ice cream. shaking your head, you toss the keys to her. she catches the keys “thanks for the candy, stranger. it really helped a girl out.” she says with her back turned walking away from you.

wait wait. no, that’s not how it’s supposed to go. yeah, you were supposed to give her the keys, but you were hoping for a conversation longer than 30 seconds. okay maybe you were hoping way more than that… maybe being friends or something like that.

jogging up to her pace, you walk alongside her. “so!” you try to keep the conversation going. she furrowed her brows at you, either confused or annoyed by your attempt. “i was thinking since you’re new and everything that maybe you’d need a friend.” 

at first, she slowed down and she just stared. not at you. it was like she was lost in her mind. “a friend, huh?” her voice lowered, “sorry, toots, i don’t do friends.” 

jinx didn’t do friends.

she didn’t need for them. the closest thing she had to a friend was sevika, and she wasn’t even a friend she was more like… an annoying aunt. 

they didn’t last. 

besides… who would want to deal with her? vi didn’t, silco only made her condition worse, she always felt like a chore to sevika, and ekko… boy genius was too good for her. jinx wasn't who he wanted.

powder cleaned up the shop (by cleaning up, she put all the junk in the employee room). it felt nice to clean up; it was like her body was moving on auto-pilot just like it had been doing for the past two days. everything felt like an out-of-body experience after the numbness she felt the first month she had got here.

she grabbed a teddy bear out of the box and tied it up to the ceiling. for some reason, she kept the nagging thing around; powder kept sweeping up the place, “tidying” it up to her liking.

why do you keep pushing everyone away?

“shut up.” powder didn’t have the patience for it.

why do you keep pushing everyone away? 

her grip tightened around the broomstick. “was me tying a noose around your neck not enough?”

why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away?  why do you keep pushing everyone away?  why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away? 

because you’re a jinx.

jinx reached to her hip to grab her gun to shoot the annoying bear. of course, there was no gun to pull out from a holster. there was no reason to have one in a place like this. old habits die hard.

because everyone who gets close to you dies. 

jinx.

dropping the broom, she turned on her heel and faced the teddy bear, “i’m not a jinx!” her shout seemed to snap her back to reality. it was quiet. so quiet that she was able to hear her own heavy breathing. “not… not anymore…” her eyes were fixed on the bear.

“i left all of that behind.” her raspy voice cracked, arguing with it. “it’s safe here, no danger!” she took strides to the annoyance, “no reason for someone around me to die this time!” she ripped the bear off of the noose, its head coming off.

so why do you keep pushing everyone away?

even with its head rolled on the floor it still tried to get its point across.

if she was right. if she believed everything she just said, why did she keep pushing people away? there’s no reason to be scared of losing someone; there’s no danger here.

jinx dropped the bear and turned around to get back to cleaning up. she crouched down to pick up the broom but her red-violet eyes caught something. a sticky note.

ONLY COSTS FIVE!

with a turtle drawn as a signature. she dropped her broom and dashed out of the shop.

powder wasn’t sure what the plan was, maybe there was no plan to begin with. she wanted to talk to you— to change her answer. she did want to be friends. she needed to get it off her chest because what if she waits too long and you don’t want to be friends anymore? what if you forget you even asked her? what if you didn't mean it?

she was on her way to find you at the bar (like you said for her to find you). on her way there she saw a bright light reflection of a bronze turtle necklace. she got cold feet.

odd.

very odd.

jinx never felt like this. why was telling someone you want to be friends so hard?

all of this leads to now, her stalking you, watching you from rooftops. it wasn’t her initial intention! she just panicked. it was night; it was the perfect time for stalking anyway. jinx followed you. the paths you took were odd. just where were you heading?

an alleyway. alleyways in flosnum were nothing like zaun; they were dimly lit, painted murals with vines, and flowers blooming from the cracked cement, making it their home.

two men walk up to you. “you know we don’t want to do this.” one of them says sympathetically. you didn’t seem surprised; it was like you were expecting them. 

“kiss my ass.” you bit back then a palm connected with your right cheek. 

oh.

this was not what powder was expecting.

a fight broke out. for a young woman, you sure were holding your ground against two muscled middle-aged men. you certainly weren’t the most skilled person jinx had seen fight, but you made the most of what you could with your frame. jinx debated on whether she should help you out or not. you were obviously going to lose, as of now, you had it in the bag. 

that was until one of them took hold of your hair behind you. the other man spit out the blood from his mouth onto the cement. “stop fighting back and just take the punishment.” he raised his fist and punched you in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you completely.

he winds up his fist again and you prepare yourself for the impact. 

you then saw a streak of pink. it shimmered. there was no longer a man; there was a woman, strands of blue and purple peeking out of the hood.

wait a minute… you looked down to see the man underneath her feet. did she just land on him? “what the fuck…” your eyes trail back up to the woman.

“yes, yes, give it up for your hero.” jinx spreads out her arms, waiting for applause. before you could say anything, she was already off the man and gone from your view. you no longer felt a tight grip on your hair and stumbled forward.

the man backed up “who the hell—“ jinx lashes out a well-aimed kick to the man’s head, his head collides with the alleyway wall and turns into a limp.

it was over so quickly. your arm still wrapped around your stomach. the woman’s hood falls, though you already had a good guess on who it was, her pink eyes fixated on you.

not knowing what to do, you speak up. “were you stalking me?” 

“seriously? no, thank you?”

“oh, of course, where are my manners? my knight in shining armor, thank you ever so much!” your words dripping with sarcasm a smirk gracing your lips.

“damn right, toots.” with her hands clasped behind her back she strolled toward you, her hips swaying with each stride. as she stopped directly in front of you her shimmering eyes darted around you nervously. “yes.”

confused at the simple word, you tilt your head, trying to make sense of it. her irises dilated.

“I want to be friends.” sparkling doe eyes met with yours briefly before darting away.

not knowing how to react, you spoke up, “did you come all this way to say that?” great working [name], you just ruined your chance of becoming friends with the cool blue-haired beauty.

seeing your mistake, you shook your head, recognizing how much of a poor choice of words that was. “shit, sorry.“ now she was leaning toward you she was close. so close. her face was just mere inches away from yours. “shut up and let me say this.”

yes ma’am.

getting out of your face, jinx tries to stand up straight. “i’m a handful— more than that. I just want you to know what you are getting yourself before…”

this was when you realized that powder wasn’t mysterious for the aesthetic. not because she was some attention seeker like some locals would say. not because she was a loser. powder had a past that genuinely haunted her. those eyes carried a lifetime of pain and the way her shoulders were slumped made her seem exhausted.

you didn’t know why she was she looked so drained. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to find out. despite her weary demeanor, she was still reaching out, still holding on, and you were willing to take her hand because if anything she it looked like she needed this more than you.

you wanted a cool friend. jinx needed a friend.

before jinx could continue speaking, you blurt out, “when do you want to hang out?” jinx wasn’t sure if she should smack you upside the head for interrupting her or if she should blow something up out of excitement… so she stared at you. fireworks seemed to pop behind her eyes.

“right now.” powder grabbed your hand in a swift motion, her grip firm yet fearful. the action causing you to pivot in the direction she was taking you. now running, she pulled you along with her. powder didn’t know where she was running, she just needed to get the jitters out of her with you at her side.

ignoring the fact your legs felt like jelly because of the recent fight you smile, “i still don’t know your name!” laughing into the breeze that rushes through your hair.

glancing back at you, jinx caught sight of your smile. as if the upturn of your lips were a virus, a smile tugged onto her lips. “i’ll tell you when i’m ready.” jinx’s words echoed behind them.

“alright, baby blue.”

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed

i am open to ideas for my next chapter! the chapter is full of fluff of them getting to know each other. its structure is split into weeks. week one: blah blah blah. week two: blah blah blah. week three: blah blah blah.

[kirikiss]

Nightmare on Sesame Street!

prohero! bakugo It was no shock when Bakugo became one of the top heroes after high school. He was a powerhouse, and anyone could see he had a real shot at becoming #1. But being the best hero isn’t just about strength—popularity plays a big role too. So, it wasn’t surprising when his agency brought you on as his PR manager. Your job? To make sure people saw not just the fierce hero side of him, but also someone they could admire and root for. After all, with his temper, smoothing out those rough edges was going to be a challenge. not proofread...

tw: none!,

As you trudged down the hall, you could already hear the sound of Bakugo’s gauntlet tapping against his desk, the noise echoing from his office. Even though you were his PR manager, he had a knack for shooting down every opportunity you brought him. First, you pitched the idea of him having his own cereal. “Kids shouldn’t eat that crap,” he snapped. Then you suggested a hairspray ad. “Hell no. You couldn’t recreate this even if you had a blueprint,” he scoffed, gesturing at his hair. Every idea, every proposal, was an immediate no.

It was clear Bakugo had zero patience for PR stunts—he thought they were stupid, plain and simple. So, as you prepared to pitch him on a new opportunity to guest star on the Sesame Street Halloween Special, you could already see the scowl forming on his face. The tapping of his gauntlet stopped.

"Are you dumb?" he growled. "A hero isn’t an entertainer. We’re here to save people. Stop asking me to do dumb shit like this."

The office was silent as you began to walk out, only hearing the click of your shoes as you headed for the door. This was bad. If you couldn’t get him on board with these opportunities, his agency would fire you for sure. 

While Sesame Street was a kids' show, it would help soften Bakugo’s image and make him more family-friendly—something crucial for climbing the popularity polls. But since he seemed allergic to saying yes to anything, you started to devise a plan.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was a chilly, spooky, day, with leaves drifting in and out of the streets, carried by the wind. It was October 31st, and the town was soon to be filled with children in costume. You were on your way to the film studio, minus the explosive hero, who was stuck at the office buried in paperwork. As you fought against the wind, you quickly checked your phone. I really hope this works, you thought, having stayed up all night brainstorming any possible way to get him to say yes. The harsh reality was that he probably wouldn’t.

But there was one last idea you had in mind. As you reached the studio, you took a deep breath, thinking, I really hope he doesn’t kill me. You opened the door, and the director greeted you with a smile. “Hi, Y/N! Nice to finally put a face to the name! The live taping will be starting shortly. Where’s Dynamight?” he asked, glancing around.

“He should be here soon, but if you could just excuse me for a second,” you said with a nervous laugh. Stepping outside, you dialed his number, clearing your throat as you prepared for the act of your life.

“Yeah, what is—” Bakugo started.

“BAKUGO, HELP ME! A VILLAIN IS ATTACKING! I’LL SEND YOU THE ADDRESS!” you shouted in a fake worried tone, then quickly hung up praying it would work. You sent the address as you stepped back inside and crossed your fingers.

The director approached you, looking a bit anxious. “He has three minutes until the show starts. There’s a one-minute Oscar the Grouch act before his interview with Elmo. Do you think he could make it?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m sure of it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping your gamble would pay off

Elmo walked onto the screen, and as if on cue, you heard a loud crash. The door flew open, and Bakugo stormed in. “WHERE IS THIS FOOL?” he barked, taking in his surroundings before locking eyes with Elmo. “Wow, our guest for today has an explosive entrance,” Elmo chimed cheerfully. Bakugo shot a glance at you, then back at Elmo. He realized he’d been tricked, and there was no backing out now.

“Elmo is very excited to welcome Bakugo!” Elmo continued, his voice unwavering. Bakugo slowly walked toward him, clearly unimpressed.

“Welcome to Elmo's live talk show! Elmo is just gonna ask you a few questions!” Elmo announced.

“Alright,” Bakugo scoffed, already annoyed at the oversized teddy bear in front of him.

“If you had to pick a favorite color, would it be red like Elmo, or would you choose something like… ‘explosive orange’?” Elmo asked, chuckling at his own joke.

Bakugo's face shifted to his default scowl. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, realizing this was live. He was making an effort to be somewhat kid-friendly.

“Okay! Elmo has another question! Today is Halloween. Elmo loves trick-or-treating! What are you planning to be for Halloween this year?”

“Well, Elmo,” Bakugo replied in a mocking tone, “I’m going to be patrolling later, so there’s no dress-up this year.” You sighed in relief, relieved to see he was trying to keep it together.

“Okay! Elmo has a few more questions. Elmo heard that some heroes take their costumes off at the end of the day! Do you ever take your grumpy face off, or is that just for show?” Elmo asked, clearly testing his patience, and it was wearing thin

You could see Bakugo’s irritation brewing. His fist clenched, suppressing the urge to turn Elmo into a pile of red fur. “Yeah, Elmo, I take it off when I’m not around annoying stuffed animals.” he retorted

He’s really pushing his limits now. 

Bakugo managed to keep his cool through most of the questions, but the last one pushed him over the edge. “Hey, Bakugo! Elmo was wondering... Do you think maybe you’d be a better hero if you smiled more? Elmo thinks smiles make everything better!”

Bakugo’s eye twitched, and you could see this was the breaking point.

“THAT’S IT!” he shouted, jumping out of his seat. “BAKUGO WILL SMILE WHEN HE BLOWS UP THIS SET! HOW ABOUT THAT, ELMO?” he yelled, mocking Elmo’s voice. Fiery sparks began crackling in his palm.

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO YOU DAMN PUPPET!” Bakugo growled as he aimed one of his grenades at Elmo. In a fit of rage, he let loose, and Elmo was suddenly engulfed in an explosion of red fur and smoke. Most of the staff stood there shocked while the others handled turning off the live footage. The cameras immediately panned to the ground as Bakugo turned around to take his leave. 

After apologizing profusely to the staff—and mourning what was left of the Elmo puppet—you headed outside to try and catch him. But he was already gone, leaving you no choice but to send a slightly irritated text.

Y/N: Are you serious right now? Why on earth would you do that? This is going to be a nightmare to clean up. You’d better get back to the agency ASAP so we can work out some kind of apology.

Read 4:18 PM

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bakugo decided to start his patrol early, hoping to get some peace and quiet before the evening rush. But as soon as he hit the streets, he noticed they were already flooding with kids decked out in costumes. Some wore miniature hero getups—his own included—while others sported characters from whatever kids' shows were trending these days. Though he’d never admit it, Bakugo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them laughing and running around.

His momentary calmness shattered, however, when something out in the distance made his blood run cold. A tuft of red fur peeked out from behind a lamppost, and slowly, menacingly, a kid in an Elmo costume emerged. Bakugo’s eyes went wide as the bright red, wide-grinning creature came closer, waving in slow motion, its vacant stare drilling into his soul. He took a step back, heart pounding.

“Not…again,” he muttered, half to himself.

Of all the villains he’d faced, of all the foes he’d defeated, somehow, this puppet was the one that struck true fear.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

taglist: @sofiascripts

a/n: Sorry for not posting, im in school and its midterm season :/. Thought I should put this out, I promised myself I would put out a funny bakugou fic before Halloween , so please enjoy!!!!

[darsynia]

Forgiven: Candor | CEO Steve/f!Reader series part 2

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: Your first lunch date with your company’s CEO-turned-construction-hottie has netted you an invitation to a fancy gala. You’re falling head over budget heels for this guy, but getting to know him turns out to be more charming and more complicated than you expected. Words/Warnings: 2,900 / none

Written for @buck-star's Fluffy Winter Event with the prompt CEO, a sequel to the 'Ro Roll' story Forgiven. A third story in the series is mostly written (and smutty). gif by @tay-swifts

Quick note: this one's less of a romp than the first, but I'd say where the first fic is about physical attraction, this is about emotional attraction--and part III is both!

Excerpt:

Tonight’s plan is unconventional. The gala he’s invited you to is the last event of a conference for tech companies, and he was one of the keynote speakers for their final wrap-up. Rogers told you he couldn’t miss the networking for the ninety minutes between that and the start of the gala, so you’ll be arriving separately.

Honestly, if it were anyone else, you’d have tried to beg off. You’ll have to show up dressed to the sevens (the nines are way beyond your price range) and find him in a sea of very important people and other hangers-on. It’s a recipe for a fairy tale either way--either you’ll see each other across a crowded room or someone’s rich stepsister will cut you to verbal shreds. The only way to make that image to go away is picturing Rogers acting like a storybook hero vanquishing all your villains. 

Candor

Sharing a meal with Steve Rogers feels like it shouldn’t be this easy. 

It helps that you’d passed a vintage movie theater playing The Mark of Zorro from 1940 on your way to the deli. You’d expressed surprise that the franchise started that long ago, prompting a discussion about the notable parts of each version the other hadn’t seen (Rogers: Just her hair left to cover everything?!). Now you’re both sharing anecdotes from your late teens over some seriously delicious sandwiches, him telling you about his co-founder Barnes, and you sharing about growing up with your sister Jennie. 

Rogers’ easygoing charisma makes it far too easy to forget that he actually runs the company you work for, especially when he’s laughing. It’s only when he holds out a hand to interrupt the story of your sister’s first catastrophic job interview that his business side kicks in.

The counter is only a few feet away from your table, and he leans over, intently listening. That’s when you hear it-- the soft, frightened voice of a young woman defending herself against a furious male voice.

Rogers shoots to his feet, striding over with the remaining bites of his sandwich in his hand. The manager steps over right away, his frown fading away when he sees the tall, well-dressed man at the counter.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“I want you to observe OSHA standards, to say nothing of human decency,” Rogers says evenly. The manager presses his hands together in a blatantly fawning apology, but it’s too late. In an ever-increasing tone, your lunch companion lists out three different violations. At least one customer leaves nervously before Rogers adds a strong suggestion that the manager treat his young female employees with more respect. “I have rarely seen the same employee more than twice in the two months you’ve been open, and I hope for your sake it’s because they know their rights,” he says sternly. “Your food is good. Your management is going to run the place into the ground.”

There’s something about his voice of command that completely stomps the manager’s bravado. Seconds later, the employee who’d been yelled at comes out of the back room with a light jacket on and a purse, her face blotchy from crying. You offer her a tissue from your bag and clean up the rest of the table, which works out well when Rogers steps close and asks if you’re ready to head out. Once outside, he spots the young woman walking nearby.

“Give me a second,” he tells you, jogging over to her before she can cross the street. They have a short exchange while you wait, and you can see him give the woman a business card.

When Rogers comes back, you’re both quiet until he opens his car door for you and settles in on his side.

“That was a good thing you did.”

Rogers sighs. “I try not to throw my weight around. I’ve been watching conditions there deteriorate for weeks, and I guess that was the last straw.”

“You offered her a job, didn’t you?”

He turns and smiles, and the brightness of it reminds you of the way sunlight spills into the lobby at Star Industries.

“You’re going to spill that all down the front of you!” Marcia frets as you wobble your way to the door after work. The takeout container you’re precariously balancing is your peace offering to your sister, since you have a date on Couch Potato Movie Night.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be wearing this for long!” you say in an attempt to reassure your coworker.

“TMI!” the older woman says, playfully putting her hands over her ears.

“No, no no no--” The words cut off as you nearly bobble the styrofoam in a bid to whirl around in protest. “Doesn’t everyone change into comfy clothes after work? See you tomorrow!” 

It’s a total obfuscation, but Marcia isn’t able to object before you escape through the rotating doors. 

You won’t actually be wearing ‘comfy clothes,’ mostly because the black ensemble you’re planning to wear on your date has more exposed back than anything you’d ever worn in public before. The truth is, you look and feel great in it-- but comfy it is not. You haven’t worn it in a while (barring the try-on you did two days ago), and you’re already looking forward to the way the skirt flutters around your ankles. Its style is as close to the red dress from Only You as you could find, and you’re pretty sure Marisa Tomei would approve.

You’re hoping Steve Rogers approves, too.

Tonight’s plan is unconventional. The gala he’s invited you to is the last event of a conference for tech companies, and he was one of the keynote speakers for their final wrap-up. Rogers told you he couldn’t miss the networking for the ninety minutes between that and the start of the gala, so you’ll be arriving separately.

Honestly, if it were anyone else, you’d have tried to beg off. You’ll have to show up dressed to the sevens (the nines are way beyond your price range) and find him in a sea of very important people and other hangers-on. It’s a recipe for a fairy tale either way--either you’ll see each other across a crowded room or someone’s rich stepsister will cut you to verbal shreds. The only way to make that image to go away is picturing Rogers acting like a storybook hero vanquishing all your villains. 

You exit your taxi a block away from the venue, amused and diverted by the mental image of your CEO date wearing medieval armor and wielding a sword and shield. The night is warm for early fall, with a light breeze that pleasingly swirls around your skirt and filmy shoulder wrap. You’re left wishing you could wander through Central Park with him, looking at the first leaf changes instead of feeling out of place at the event.

As you walk, you ponder what a modern-day heroic Steve Rogers would look like. This version can definitely wield his power like a weapon, offering that young deli worker a better job or calling on his fellow manufacturers to use more sustainable materials, something Star Industries recently made news for. You’re preoccupied in coming up with a shield analogue for him when you approach your destination.

“Excuse me, miss?” a familiar-sounding voice says. You lift your head to see that it’s Rogers.

“Oh! I didn’t at all expect you to meet me out--”

“I couldn’t take it in there anymore. Place is full of opportunists who think I’m naive for not taking more advantage of our disabled clients,” he says roughly, stripping off his suit jacket as he speaks. “It seems they thought I was faking nice for the past few years. I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“You could never be disappointing!” The words come out before you can vet them, but even if you had, you’d have said them anyway. He throws his blazer over his arm and looks at you with what you can only describe as professional exhaustion. You suspect more went on in that conference than he’s willing to say, and that makes you want to be more honest with him, for some reason. “There were two things going on in my mind on my way over here, would you like to hear them?”

His tone is guarded. “All right.”

“First I was picturing you as a kind of medieval warrior on a mission to fight the kind of villains you just described--”

“No pressure or anything,” Rogers murmurs. 

“The other thing was wishing that I could take a walk with you through Central Park. The leaves are starting to change, there’s a nice breeze--what do you think?”

“I think you shouldn’t lift me up as some kind of hero,” he finally says, “--but I would very much like that.” Rogers holds out his arm for you, not unlike the way you pictured him leading you around the gala. 

As you take it, you decide to go ahead and say, “What would Barnes say about whether you’re a hero?”

“He’d call me a punk with delusions of grandeur, but he’s the one who turned down the position of CEO,” Rogers says, but though his tone is amused, his expression doesn’t really show it.

It’s information you’re not sure is even public, so you focus on keeping up with his big strides as you make your way to the Park. Everything about his body language tells you that there’s a lot going on under the surface, that he might be close to coming unraveled. There’s no good way to say, ‘it’s okay to be quiet if you need to be.’ All you can do is stay quiet and hope he feels supported. The resulting silence isn’t comfortable, but it’s not awkward either--and after what he’d said about the population of the party he left behind, the twilight beauty of the park has to be an improvement.

A gust of wind finally changes the contemplative mood when it blows your shoulder wrap up onto his chest and into his face.

“Crap, I’m sorry,” you rush to say, fighting with the thing to make it stay put. Through your fussing, he stands with his hands out, a small smile haunting his face. It’s the first one you’ve seen from him today, and you decide to comment on it to test the waters. “I can’t help but be nosy and notice you don’t seem much like yourself tonight.”

Rogers’ body language closes up and his facial expression tightens, but he nods. “I’ve had to button up for the conference. I guess it’s just harder to shrug it off, tonight.”

It suddenly occurs to you that you don’t really know him very well, and you’ve walked yourself into a semi-private section of the park with him, at night. At the same time, you still recognize the man you ogled as he sweated and worked in the foyer of his own building as ‘just one of the guys.’ 

Hadn’t you hated a job so much your sister said it ate you alive?

“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to hold a position at your level,” you say, in the world’s greatest understatement, “What I do know is that you made a decision to protect me from having to deal with something that clearly made you miserable. It sounds like those people were judging you as a bad leader because you want what’s best for your company and its clients. For the record, I think standing up against that is plenty heroic.”

Rogers looks down at his feet for a second, letting out a quick breath before meeting your eyes again, this time with a wistful kind of smile on his face. “It’s nice to know there are people who still see that kind of idealism in me. Thank you.”

“That’s the most polite ‘I disagree’ I think I’ve ever heard,” you retort. “Just to pile on, I also get the impression that you lied to me earlier.”

Now you have his full attention, blue eyes capturing yours with a laser focus you imagine is even more intimidating to a direct subordinate. “Oh?” Clipped, doubtful.

You could love this man, but you have the distinct feeling that he’s having some sort of crisis you’re not privy to. As such, you could be helping here, or you could be making it very easy to leave you on the curb needing a new job.

He’s worth the try.

“You said Barnes turned down CEO. I think you took the job so he didn’t have to.”

The two of you look at each other steadily for a long minute, the tension of your possible mistake ramping up inside you until he strides over, nearly chest to chest.

“You’re right,” he says, almost breathless. He lifts his hand as if to touch your face, his eyebrows quirking up in a silent question. You nod, captivated by the battle he’s clearly fighting with himself. You hope you’ve earned the faith you can see reflected in his eyes.

He slides his fingertips along your cheek and into your hairline with the kind of gentleness a girl can only dream of, and then he kisses you, stealing away all other conscious thought. You sway forward, catching yourself on his chest and then clutching at his lapel when he angles his head. His lips are reverent but hungry, just on the edge of desperate, and as it goes on, your heart spirals away toward the abyss of yes, please, forever.

When he lifts his head, he’s finally smiling in a way you recognize, and holy shit it feels so much like a triumph that you’re probably in big trouble with this guy.

“How about a do-over?” he asks, offering you his arm again. The happiness in his eyes makes you impish.

“Of the kiss, or…”

With both hands framing your face, Steve takes thirty seconds to methodically ruin you for every other man on the planet. Afterwards, he bends down to pick up his jacket from the ground, slings it over his arm like nothing momentous has just happened, and then holds his other arm out just as he’d done earlier in the night.

“You’re an overachiever, you know that, right?” you say, taking his arm. He’s a few other things, but you feel certain there will be time to work on those.

“It’s chronic,” he says. “Shall we?”

The next half hour goes exactly as you’d originally pictured when you walked past the park the first time. Easy conversation, beautiful surroundings, and more sparks flying between you than a welder’s convention. He calls ahead for a car to meet up at a specific corner, and you end up having to borrow his suit jacket by the time you get there. He makes you promise to call him ‘Steve’ before he hands it over.

“Thank you for a perfect evening,” you whisper to him after he gets in the back seat with you. “For your sake I’ll try to remember the best parts, so I can recreate them when I wake up and it’s this morning again.”

“Does that mean you’ll meet me at the same time tomorrow, in that dress, so I can take you to dinner?”

Even your swoons are swooning. You manage to say, “I could never say no to an invitation that smooth!” 

Steve reaches over and squeezes your hand. “You can always say no. It’s important to me for you to know that.”

He sounds so serious that you pull your joined hands up to briefly kiss the back of his. “There’s a story behind that, isn’t there?” As you say this, your conscience stabs you. Hadn’t you dreamed of a rich man to sweep you off your feet? Would he feel betrayed by that??

“Don’t worry about that. Just know I was starting to feel… How do I put it,” Steve says, sweeping his thumb across the back of your hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way--”

“I’m not going to steal Willy Wonka’s secrets, so you can forget about asking,” you quip.

Steve throws back his head in laughter, his hand tightening on yours almost painfully before he lets go. “I was starting to forget what it was like not to be surrounded by people who want something, even if all they want is to say ‘yes.’ That’s one of the few things money can’t buy.”

“Observation changes the results--or in this case, money does,” you say, nodding. “Well, I’m going to take that as a compliment.” The car stops, and for the first time after a long day, you are disappointed to see you’re in front of your apartment.

He unbuckles and leans over to give you a brief but searing kiss. “It’s a compliment.” 

Steve gets out of the car, and for a brief moment you’re confused until he opens your door like a gentleman. It’s impossible not to be charmed. Once he’s helped you out and onto the sidewalk, you wish you could keep his suit jacket, if only so you can use it to prove none of this was a dream. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asks, then says, “Wait. I know you just well enough to suspect you want to prove you’ll say no to me.” You burst out laughing and nod. “All right then: do you want to stay home tomorrow?”

You grin. “No.”

“Good. Let’s push back by an hour, for a better reservation. Seven?”

“Yes.”

“See you then.”

Because your life is not a romance novel but a comedy, you walk in the door of your apartment two hours earlier than promised, your stomach growling in outraged hunger.

“What are you doing home already? Was that your stomach? Didn’t you eat?” your sister asks as you take your shoes off. “Well?” Jennie demands, when you silently head toward the kitchen to warm up some leftovers. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she realizes aloud.

“No,” you tell her, an indelible grin on your face.

<- Previous ||||| Next ->

[garlicbreadbatstarion]

Who Takes Care of The Hero? Part 1

SFW, fluff, angst, Hallmark movies vibes just in time for the holidays ;)

pairing: gn!reader x Rolan, gn!Tav x Rolan

word count: 2300

A/N: I’ve had writer’s block for soooo long but godsdamned if this grumpy, perfect wizard won’t get me through it.  There is definitely at least one more part to this that will be more mature, but we’ll see how far I can take this storyline :)

It had been another long, grueling day in the Shadowfell; you and your companions were especially weary after the high stakes mission of discreetly jailbreaking the prisoners of Moonrise Towers and leading them back to the safety of the Last Light Inn by boat.  Despite your aching muscles and the grime that coats your body, you manage a smile as you cross the threshold to see the many happy reunions surrounding you.  At the opposite end of the room, you watch Cal and Lia practically sprint to Rolan over by the bar; his trademark scowl is completely gone for a moment in shock but, in true Rolan fashion, he quickly furrows his brow again as he begins to chastise his siblings for getting captured.  You can see the anxiety in his features as he lectures them.  Maybe that’s why, despite his abrasiveness, you like Rolan.  You know how heavy it can be to feel responsible for other people’s lives, and like yourself, the young wizard clearly never asked for the immense amount of responsibility stacked on his shoulders. 

You quickly blink away your pensiveness and try to relax the tension by gently butting in and reminding his siblings that Rolan was highly distressed in their absence, and the trio quickly apologize to each other.  You feel great relief to see their family reunited and sigh contentedly when you feel a thin, cool arm wrap around your shoulders.  Astarion is smirking at your side as his eyes flick from you to the wizard and he clears his throat theatrically, “Anything to add Rolan?”

You quickly flick your head to face him and try to shoot daggers out of your eyeballs into his smug face, but he just continues to smile maniacally as his ears perk up and he looks back towards Rolan…

You had become close to Astarion quickly after you met; your respect for his autonomy and commitment to protecting him despite his condition created a deep loyalty between the two of you.  As such, it took Star one look at your face while you watched Rolan at the tiefling party to recognize the crush you had developed on the wizard.  He quickly began teasing you about your “tiefling husband” on your journey to distract from the near-constant horrors you faced. Your noble heart had feared for all the tieflings journeying through the shadow curse after leaving the Grove, but the anxiety you felt over Rolan’s safety would constantly wake you up at night; often to the company of Astarion who would sit with you and chat until you could fall back asleep.  When you had first reached Last Light, you felt terrible to learn of the attack on the road, but you silently and selfishly thanked every god you could think of that Rolan had remained mostly unharmed…

But now, Astarion slyly removes his arm from your shoulders and steps away, allowing Rolan to sheepishly approach you while rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.  He’s so close your body tenses slightly and you suddenly become very aware of how gross your armor must be from the blood and grime currently coating you.  If it bothers him, he doesn’t allow it to show as Rolan speaks softly to you, “I’ve lashed out at you. Drunkenly, and otherwise, and you helped anyway.  You didn’t deserve that- I’m sorry. And thank you.” He pulls a small coin purse from his side and pushes it towards you, “You went out of your way to help us, it’s only right you get some-”

You step backwards and shake your head, “Absolutely not. I am just glad you are all alive and well.  You can buy me an ale when we all reach Baldur’s Gate.” You offer a tired grin and raise your hand as all three siblings begin to protest, “If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to clean up and retire for the evening. Goodnight.” You lock eyes with Rolan and blush before quickly turning to go up the stairs and change out of your armor.  Your exhausted companions, sans Astarion, have already retired to their bunks for the night, so you shed your armor and wrap a small parcel of clean camp clothes and soap in your towel as you quietly make your way to the large bathroom down the hall. Karlach, being the angel she is, has been preparing your baths at Last Light when she's on camp duty without you…

About a week ago you heard her muffled giggles and water splashing from the hall so you quietly stopped to peek through the semi-open door; she was animatedly sloshing the water to create lots of soap bubbles with one hand as the other played with a small wooden duck Halsin had carved her, gliding it across the surface of the water…

You close the door behind you and the steam from the bath instantly relaxes your muscles as you slowly peel off your armor clothes that are caked in sweat, blood, and dungeon dust before carefully stepping over the wooden side and sitting down into the hot bath water. The lavender scented suds relax your body and mind as you rest your chin on your knees and close your eyes. However, they quickly fly open again as the doorknob turns and Rolan enters the room, shyly looking at the floor; but as he looks up at you, his eyes grow huge and his jaw drops as he stutters out,"Tav! I- I- I'm so sorry!" His hands cover his eyes frantically and in his blind panic he trips and smacks into the door, accidentally closing it behind him.

"Astarion told me you were here, but- I didn't,- I swear he said it was an office!" His already red face is now glowing a bright shade of scarlet that probably mirrored your own, as he stands paralyzed with embarrassment and, despite your horror at Astarion's audacity (you'll get him back for this later) you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of this situation. It was cheesier than one of Wyll's romance novels.

Rolan sheepishly peers around the side of his hand when he hears your laughter, and he smiles for a second before blushing and readjusting his manual blindfold to try and forget the fact you're naked and a very short distance away from him. But that's all you can think about as you try to figure out how to navigate this without making Rolan feel any more uncomfortable than he already does .

"Rolan it's okay, I can tell from your reaction you fell victim to one of Astarion's pranks. I'm so sorry, he gets me all the time, really!" You giggle again as Rolan lowers his hand but drops his gaze to the floor, and you can almost see the physical strain he is using not to glance over at you in the tub.

" He can be such an ass sometime bu- AHH!" you take a sharp breath through your teeth as you feel a sting on your mid back as you attempt to reposition yourself to face Rolan while lowering your body further into the water. You look up to see Rolan's face tinged with concern and he takes a small step forward and gently lowers himself to the floor next to the tub, his eyes still on the floorboards.  It simultaneously gives you more privacy, but both of you sit completely still, your closeness overwhelmingly palpable.

“Your back is raw and bruised on this side.” Rolan speaks barely above a whisper and his concern overrides his shyness as he leans slightly closer to look at your injuries.  As you were exiting the prison, a rogue piece of rock fell onto your back, but the adrenaline and ensuing tiredness almost made you forget until the hot water splashed onto a raw area when you turned.  Rolan’s hand moves painfully slowly towards your bare back and his touch is light as a ghost, but still, a sharp pain shoots through your side and you swallow a pained groan that tries to rise from the back of your throat.  You can hear Rolan swallow loudly before exhaling a shaky breath.  You bite your bottom lip so hard you’re afraid you’ll break skin, but it’s all you can do as you’re overwhelmed by the pain, excitement, and tenderness you feel at the moment.

Rolan silently rolls up the sleeves of his robes and reaches for one of the small sponges on the table next to the tub.  He gently dips it into your bath before delicately pressing it above the raw spot on your back to clean the wound.  Your exhaustion leaves you unable to keep up your bravado as you let out a soft whimper at the sharp sting you feel on your back.

“I know Tav, I know.  Let me help you clean it and we’ll get you bandaged up.” His voice is soothing and calm; you can’t think of another time you’ve heard him speak like this, but you close your eyes and try to relax your aching body. Rolan rinses the area a few more times before gently laying his hand over top of the wound and whispering a short incantation.  It’s like a pulse of hot light on the site for a moment, but you quickly realize the stinging open wound is gone.  Your muscles still have a dull ache, but the painful burn of the open cuts has stopped.  You gently turn your head to look at Rolan and offer him a weary but thankful smile. He smiles back and holds your stare for several long seconds before realizing his hand is still on the soft skin of your back and he quickly removes his hand and places it into his lap.  He smiles awkwardly at you before turning to look at your clean clothes and towel on the dressing table and raises himself off the floor to retrieve your towel.  He continues to avert his eyes as his head looks towards the door, but his body remains facing you so that one hand offers you the towel, and the other is an open palm to help you get up.

“The wound is closed, but I am quite certain you will still be sore for a bit. I can brew up a few healing potions for you tomorrow if you would like.”

You gingerly take his hand and hoist yourself up, goosebumps covering your body as it reacts to being in the cool air above the water.  The gentleman next you never takes his eyes off the door as you cover yourself with the towel, wrapping it around your body before reaching back out for Rolan’s arm to help keep your balance as you step over the sides of the tub and onto the floor mat. You are toe to toe with Rolan and you can feel the intense heat radiating off of him, his cheeks blushing intensely as he glances at your hand clutching his.

“I would greatly appreciate that. Thank you.  For taking care of me like this.” Your voice is soft and you look at his face as his brilliant yellow eyes gently rise to meet yours. He can’t fight the smile that forms at your praise and he doesn’t even realize his tail is gently wagging behind him.

“It is the least I can do after all you have done for me, for my family. Despite me being a miserable asshole to you on multiple occasions.  You are the kindest person I have ever met…or perhaps the most foolish?” He grins coyly and you chuckle at his teasing.

“I’m no saint, but I’m certainly not the most foolish person you’ve met.  Or shall I reintroduce you to my party?”

You both giggle at your joke, but then Rolan lowers his voice almost to a whisper.

“Why are you so kind to me? After how poorly I have treated you?”

Perhaps it’s fatigue, or perhaps it’s the vulnerability in his voice, but you lean in so your faces are close enough you can see the different colored freckles that sprinkle his nose and cheeks and the way his sharp canines just barely poke out beneath his upper lip.   

“I think we are similar.”

He shakes his head and laughs, but you cut him off, “I mean it.  We both feel deeply responsible for the people around us.  It is a lot of pressure, but I feel it’s my duty, and I’d rather die trying than let them down. I am constantly worried I am going to fail them.”

He turns to face you fully as his eyes bore into your soul while he tries to take in what you’ve said. His searching look causes you to clear your throat, worried you’ve gone too far too fast, “Forgive me, I am a bit cold.  Would you turn around for a moment so I can put this on?” You hold up your clothes and Rolan blushes before turning back towards the door as you quickly drop your towel and throw on your underwear and the oversized linen tunic you’ve been sleeping in.

“Walk me to my room?”

“It would be my privilege.” Your cheeks burn hot as he offers his arm out for you, before he opens the bathroom door and escorts you into the empty hallway.  You lean into his warm frame, your muscles weak and your eyes heavy as the multitude of events from the day finally catch up with you.  You stop in front of the heavy oak door to your room before Rolan whispers quietly to you, “Sleep well Tav, I will prepare some healing potions and check in on you tomorrow.” He opens his mouth slightly, as if to say more, but instead he reaches to open the door for you before bowing his head silently and retreating down the stairs toward his own room.  You quietly move through the dark room towards your bed, where you practically collapse as your body falls against the mattress.

[gliphyartfan]

@stars-for-thought @eternadreeblissa @yanderelinkeduniverse @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes

Second rewrite suggestion by dear anon here

Original: Here

Enjoy~!

———

——

—

There were…countless things Wild loved about (y/n).

It was almost ridiculous how often he found himself cataloging all the little things about her that made his heart flutter. He could talk about her forever, listing every trait in alphabetical order, by importance, or even by the time of the memory.

And as much as he tried to convince himself that he loved all of her equally, there were some things that climbed up his list a little faster than others.

And some things shot up the list as though they had wings.

Right now was one of those moments.

“Don’t look!”

Wild, who had been trailing a step behind her, couldn’t hide the grin spreading across his face as she covered her ears. “But it’s so cute!” he teased, his voice light and playful. “I can’t believe it took me this long to notice!”

“It is not!” she retorted, cheeks flushing as she pressed her hands even more tightly over her ears.

Wild had to admit, her shyness was something he never got tired of. It was charming, the way she seemed so genuinely flustered by his compliments even though he showered her with them whenever he got the chance.

And, like clockwork, he knew just what to say to bring out that reaction he loved so much.

“Aw, come on,” he teased, tilting his head as he watched her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just admit it. You’re adorable when you get all flustered.”

She shot him a half hearted glare, but the way her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink completely ruined the effect. Wild’s grin only widened as he leaned a little closer. “It’s turning into one of my favorite things about you, you know,” he murmured.

“Oh, please stop…” she whined, covering her ears even harder, but her blush betrayed the shy smile tugging at her lips.

Wild chuckled, thoroughly enjoying every second of her reaction.. Her ears gave an involuntary twitch, something he noticed happened whenever she was especially embarrassed (or was it when she was happy? Than again, she tended to be flustered when she was given affection…so maybe both? He wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was all three), and he could feel his heart skip a beat.

He’d barely known it was possible for ears to wiggle, but she had proven him wrong.

“That’s not gonna last forever, you know,” he teased, leaning in just a bit more. “Sooner or later, you’re going to get used to it.”

She peeked at him from between her fingers, and he could see the flicker of defiance in her gaze. “I… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” she mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he replied with a grin. “Because I think it’s adorable.”

Her blush deepened, and her ears twitched again. Wild bit back a laugh, trying to maintain a semblance of composure. “See? You’re doing it again. The ears.”

“Stop pointing it out!” she squeaked, covering her face entirely.

“All right, all right, I’ll stop,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He took a deep breath, calming himself, and put on a more serious expression. “See? I’m not laughing. Totally serious.”

She lowered her hands just enough to shoot him a doubtful look. Wild nodded, still holding that ‘serious’ expression, until finally, she let her guard down and removed her hands from her ears.

He held the silence for a beat, keeping his face as composed as he could. And then…

“You look so cute when you blush~” he whispered.

“WILD!” Her hands flew back to her ears, her cheeks a furious red as she turned away from him in frustration.

Wild laughed, unable to contain it anymore, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “I can’t help it! I mean, look at you! Your ears are practically begging to be told how adorable you are.”

She shot him a helpless look, trying her best to glare, though it came across as more of a pout. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, her voice almost too soft to hear.

“Oh, I know,” he replied breezily, gathering his share of the firewood they’d collected. He gave her a cheeky grin. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell the others. Your secret’s safe with me.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Promise?”

He raised his hand solemnly, as if taking an oath. “Promise.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she finally relaxed, letting out a quiet sigh. Satisfied, Wild turned and started back toward camp, his smirk hidden as he heard her footsteps behind him.

—-

——-

—-

By the time they arrived back at camp, (y/n) had fully dropped her guard, convinced that Wild’s teasing was over. She settled down against a tree, watching as he began preparing the evening meal with an air of complete innocence. She had nearly forgotten about the earlier embarrassment, content as she watched him cook, the quiet warmth of the campfire settling over them.

It was only when he finally sat down beside her that he struck.

“So….(y/n)’s ears flapped when I told her she was cute~”

Her eyes widened, and her face immediately turned red again. “WILD!”

His grin was absolutely shameless as he ignored her embarrassed sputtering.

“I knew I wasn’t seeing things!” Wind piped up, looking absolutely delighted, much to (y/n)’s exasperation.

(y/n) covered her face with her hands again, her voice muffled as she groaned, “You promised…”

Wild shrugged, giving her an innocent look. “Technically, I never said how long the promise would last.”

“That’s just cheap!!”

“Oh I know~”

“Oh, come on, tell us more!” Wind’s voice was practically bouncing with excitement, and the others looked up with interest, clearly intrigued.

“No, do NOT tell them more!” She protested.

“Wait, wait—” Legend cut in, crossing his arms and arching an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you, Cook. Sounds like you’re making things up just to mess with her.”

Wild put a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Me? Lie? How insulting! Why would I lie about something as adorable as (y/n)?”

Legend snorted, shaking his head. “Sure you would. All talk, no proof.”

Wild grinned, glancing over at (y/n), who was still hiding her face in her hands. He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a soft, sincere tone. “You really should have been there, Legend. She looked like an angel, all blushes and soft smiles. It’s rare to see someone so naturally beautiful.”

Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, and she slowly peeked out from behind her hands, completely disarmed by the gentle sincerity in his compliment. Her ears gave a soft twitch, and she quickly buried her face again, this time in her lap, her shoulders curling inward as though she were trying to make herself as small as possible.

Wind’s eyes sparkled with glee as he leaned forward. “Really? I wish I’d seen it!”

“Guys, please…” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Legend raised an eyebrow, finally smirking. “I suppose you’re telling the truth then, Cook. But really, next time, bring us proof.”

Wild’s grin widened. “Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.” He leaned a little closer to (y/n), his tone turning teasing again. “Hey, don’t hide. We all just think you’re adorable.”

Her hands clenched a little tighter around her knees. “This is so embarrassing…”

“Why?” Warriors chimed in, chuckling. “You’re surrounded by people who think you’re the cutest thing in the world. How is that embarrassing?”

She shook her head, groaning softly. “It’s just… too much…”

Legend rolled his eyes but smirked. “Guess Cook was right. You really do get flustered easily.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Wild said with a chuckle, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“All right, that’s enough,” Time interjected, though the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. “Let her breathe.”

(y/n) looked up at him, relief flooding her expression as she offered him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Time—”

“…But for what it’s worth, you really do look beautiful when you blush,.”

Her eyes widened, and the camp fell silent for a heartbeat before everyone burst into laughter again.

“TIME!”

The group’s laughter echoed around the campsite as she finally gave up, setting her bowl aside and burying her face in her arms. Her ears were flapping uncontrollably, her mouth twisting into a mix of a frown and a smile.

Wild chuckled, pulling his cloak around her shoulders and wrapping his arms around her, holding her close in a silent apology. “Sorry,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and affectionate. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

She sighed, nuzzling into his chest, her fingers clutching his cloak in forgiveness. “You’re lucky I don’t stay mad for long,” she mumbled, her voice muffled but affectionate. “You’re a jerk.”

“I know.” He said smiling.

Wind pouted from his spot across the campfire. “No fair! I want to cuddle with her too!”

Wild just grinned, holding (y/n) a little tighter as the group settled down.

Dinner ended in laughter, lighthearted teasing, and half hearted whining.

And a blushing girl.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You stub your toe and the mind control breaks.

Your power snaps from the shock and the hundred or so clones you’d been controlling disappear with a pop! You hold your breath as the steel they’d been carrying clangs loudly in the cavernous room. You’re the only one in this sector but that was loud. If by some miracle nobody heard that, surely your abductor will notice you’re free any moment now—

Devil Eyes doesn’t notice.

You cover your mouth with both hands, pressing so hard that your teeth creak. There’s a hysterical giggle struggling to claw its way up your throat. You’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten, but this is what it takes to break Devil Eyes’ control? Your pinky toe throbbing after kicking a stray steel beam?

Fuck, that’s funny.

You breathe in through your nose slowly. Only when your lungs hurt worse than your toe from how much air you’re holding in them do you release your mouth. You breathe out in six quick bursts. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re free.

Holy shit, you’re free! How long has it been? Six months? Eight? You know it’s not summer anymore, but Devil Eyes has had you working in the depths of his lair for weeks now and you’ve lost track of time. That’s fine though, you’re pretty sure you’re still in Arizona and there’s sunshine even in winter. Your breath hitches in your chest. The sun! Oh, the sun, you want to see the sun so bad and now you can because you’re free--

Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound. Assess. Act.

Escape.

You’re in the delivery sector. There are piles of steel everywhere you look, tossed this way and that so that it looks like a giant failed game of Jenga. Your clones were carrying the beams from the truck in the docking bay to the appropriate facilities deeper into the mountain when they disappeared. Ha! Fat chance Devil Eyes finishes construction without you around. You’re the only reason this mountain lair is even possible. It would serve him right to spend so long stealing materials only to have nobody around to do the hard work for him.

That’s why I need to escape.

Spite is what keeps you moving. The truck driver is gone. He’s a real minion of Devil Eyes, not a brainwashed one like you. That means he’s probably in the living sector enjoying the benefits of willing servitude. Benefits like soda. And beds. And those little pillow mints they give you at hotels.

Your mouth waters.

Don’t you dare go back for a pillow mint, you scold yourself. It doesn’t matter how bad you’ve been craving one, forced to set them out and never allowed to eat one. You have the chance to escape and you’re going to take it.

You climb into the cab of the truck. The driver took his keys with him, but you’re a villain. You have the engine turning over in less than five minutes, the bed of the truck detached within three, the seat and mirrors adjusted in less than one.

Ten minutes after stubbing your toe, you’re driving out of the mountain and into the deepest of Arizona nights. Nobody sounds any alarms. Nobody starts shooting at you. How could they? You were the one manning the graveyard shift in the security room. You were the one at the turrets. You were the one doing it all while Devils Eyes and his crew slept.

The stars stretch above you. You crack the windows of the truck and suck in the fresh air greedily. Your eyes burn.

Not yet, you think. Your eyes smart and you bite your lip until the lump in your throat goes away. Not yet. As a villain, you’ve always made it a point not to let your guard down until the job is done.

This job isn’t anywhere near done.

----------,

Getting into one of Hero Force’s headquarters is either the best thing to happen to a villain or the worst.

Breaking into one is a badge of honor, especially if you’re able to get away with a trophy. Information, a hostage, even a paperclip. Anything that proves you were there and they couldn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted.

Getting taken into Headquarters is a nightmare. It means you’ve been caught and caught good. Getting taken into Headquarters means the end of a masked villain’s career. Hero Force knows who you are from that point on and, even if you escape, they’re not going to lose track of you any time soon.

You’re not sure what walking into one is. A disgrace? An act of stupidity?

You park your truck illegally and push both doors open at the same time just a little after sunrise.

“Hello,” you say to the receptionist. He’s wearing the characteristic black mask of Hero Force personnel and you wait until his brown eyes shift from his computer to you before continuing. "I’ve been held captive by the villain Devil Eyes for the last six or eight months and I’d like to talk to somebody about it.”

“Pardon?” the receptionist asks. His fingers are frozen over his keyboard. “You—pardon?”

“I don’t know what month it is,” you say. Abruptly you realize you’re not wearing a mask. A chill shudders down your spine. Devil Eyes knows what you look like and now Hero Force does too. You are so fucked, you’re going to need to flee the country-- Think about it later. “So I don’t know how long I was brainwashed for.”

“Brainwashed?”

“By Devil Eyes,” you say. When the receptionist continues to stare at you, you shift your weight from side to side. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but is there someone higher up I could speak to?”

It turns out there is. The receptionist is only too happy to call them for you and things move very quickly after that.

They take you to the fifth floor of headquarters and into a very nice conference room. The receptionist brings you coffee, water, and a fresh change of clothes. He doesn’t bring you pillow mints when you ask but makes up for it by fishing out a crushed granola bar from the inner pocket of his blazer.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you say. Crumbs tumble from your lips and onto the oak table. “Fuck.” You lick your fingers and pick them up as best you can, scooping them into your mouth as you go.

“We’ll have something delivered,” he says, eyes skittering away from you. “It’ll probably arrive before Arctic—”

“No, it won’t.”

You twist in your seat, granola bar stuffed in your cheeks. Arctic is standing in the doorway in full costume, sans cape. Her slate grey eyes study you a moment before she steps into the room. Rag Doll, her second in command, follows silently behind. Unlike his boss, he’s half in his civvies– jeans and long-sleeved Henley that shows off the extra joints in his arms and legs. His patchwork mask does little to hide the bags under his eyes.

“Ma’am,” the receptionist says. He’s flustered in the presence of the A-rank heroes, you can see it. He sketches out a bow and then seems to think better of it, jerking ramrod straight and shuffling towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Arctic watches him go with one pale brow raised.

As soon as the door shuts, Rag Doll sighs. “It’s his first day.”

“He didn’t get their name, did not relay a proper history, and called me ma’am,” Arctic says in her heavy drawl. She frowns and smooths her white hair away from her face. “That’s three strikes.”

“Wait until he watches all the HR videos before you start handing out strikes.”

“He should have finished those before he was stationed at the front door.” Arctic strides around the table and takes the seat at the head without looking at you. She pulls out a notebook from her utility belt, flipping to a blank page, and then finally looks at you. “Do you need another granola bar?”

Oh. She was stalling until you could finish eating. A smile comes to your face unbidden. “I missed your southern charm, Arctic.”

Arctic drops her pen.

Rag Doll, halfway into his seat, freezes. He stares at you with wide eyes. “Virus?”

Oh yeah. You used to compliment Arctic’s Southern manners a lot before Devil Eyes got you. “Long time no see.”

“Long time—it’s been a year,” Rag Doll says incredulously.

“You look awful,” Arctic says without a bit of manners to be found.

“A year?” The room swims. Since the wallpaper kind of reminds you of bile anyway it’s no surprise what happens next. “Fuck.”

You throw up.

------------------.

“I was going on the straight and narrow,” you’re saying an hour later. You’re in a different conference room, this one on the third floor. The walls are a nice, soothing blue and there’s a vanilla air freshener plugged into the wall. “I really was.”

“You’ve been with Devil Eyes this whole time?” Rag Doll asks. He’s seated across from you, leaning forward onto his elbows. He’d stopped Arctic from putting the power suppressors on you. She agreed when he pointed out they might kill you in your fragile state. “There’s never been any indication he can hold someone that long.”

“Well, he can,” you say. You wordlessly accept the tea Arctic slides across the table. The heat of it shocks you in the best way. You drink greedily, relishing in the warmth as it slides down your throat. “And not just one person. He could hold me and five of my clones at first. Then ten. Then twenty.”

“But your clones are you,” Arctic says. She refuses to sit, standing behind Rag Doll. She crosses her arms. “It’s impressive he was able to hold you that long, but it was just you.”

“Impressive?” You laugh without humor. “I’m not exactly impressed.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Rag Doll says. He looks over his shoulder at Arctic and, when she nods, he continues. “It’s just that, from what we know about your powers, holding you and your clones would be the same as holding one person.”

“It’s not,” you say. You’re giving away too much information about your powers, but you don’t care. Devil Eyes needs to be stopped. “Every one of my clones is an exact replica of me. An exact autonomous replica of me. Otherwise, I’d have to be some sort of supercomputer to control them all.”

“You’re not?” Rag Doll asks. His voice is light, like it used to be during your fights. Teasing banter.

You’re not in the mood for banter.

“No,” you say shortly. “If I was, I wouldn’t have been caught.”

Rag Doll sobers. “How did that happen?”

“I was getting out of the game,” you say. You wipe the back of your mouth. The tea is sitting better than the granola bar, but you’re still feeling unsteady. You clear your throat. “I should have just disappeared, but I didn’t. I let a few of the locals know I was going to be leaving. Stupid of me. Stupider when I agreed to come to the goodbye party they were throwing.”

“Locals?” Arctic asks. Her voice is smooth and cold. “Which locals?”

You shrug. “Dreadwatt. The Ice Twins were in town back then, they said they’d stop by.” Your lip curls. “Devil Eyes.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party,” Rag Doll says.

“No.” You didn’t think so either. But how do you explain that they were the only people who thought your low-level villainy meant something? Heroes and civilians just found your antics annoying. Villains found your schemes clever. “It was a way to mark the end of an era.”

“What were you going to do after?” Rag Doll asks.

Were. You can’t get mad at the past tense. You’re sitting in Hero Headquarters without a mask. Arctic has probably memorized every single one of your freckles. Even if she hasn’t, Devil Eyes knows your face. There’s no way you get to retire to an honest life now. “I was going to be a librarian.”

Rag Doll perks up. “You like to read? What genre?”

“Mostly science fiction.”

“Me too! Have you read—”

“Devil Eyes got you at the party?” Arctic interrupts. She shoots Rag Doll a chiding look and claims the seat next to him. She fixes you with her chilling gaze. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You don’t remember the moment it happened. That’s the scariest part. It took you weeks to be able to feel Devil Eyes’ control. Until then, everything still felt like your choice. “He had me start construction on his lair about a month after that. He was sure his control would hold by then.”

That makes Arctic lean forward. “His new lair? You’ve been there?”

You grin bitterly. “I’m the one who dug it out.”

“Dug it out? It’s underground?”

“Some of it.”

“Where?” Arctic flips open her notepad. “We know it’s east of the city and, judging by the truck you arrived in, it’s in the deep desert. Can you give us coordinates?”

“I’m pretty good with stars,” you say. Even now you can remember the exact position of them the moment you left the mountain. “I know exactly where it is.”

Arctic can’t hide the impatience in her voice. “Where?”

“Not so fast,” you say. You lean back, crossing your arms. Your heart pounds against your ribs. “I want a deal.”

Arctic snarls. “You don’t understand what’s at stake—”

Rag Doll puts a hand on her arm, quieting her. He smiles at you. “Now, Virus, you know—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rag Doll blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t call me Virus,” you say. Your skin itches and you dig your nails into your arms to keep from scratching. Devil Eyes called you Virus. “I retired. I’m not Virus.”

“Then what would you like us to call you?”

Your mind scatters. “I don’t know. Not that.”

“Alright,” Rag Doll says gently. He waits a moment and, when you don’t offer up anything else, says, "You know we can't offer immunity agreements. Foresight would have to be here for that and we don’t have time for him to fly down from New York. What I can do—”

“I don’t want immunity,” you interrupt.

“You don’t?”

“You don’t?” Arctic echoes. She frowns, seemingly shaking off her impatience. “You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes, Viru—sorry. You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes.”

“That’s fine.” It’s not. You rub your arms, fingertips worrying at the half moon indents your nails bit into your skin. It’s the price you’re willing to pay to take down Devil Eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll pay for those. But I want to be there when you raid his lair. I want to be there when you catch him.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Rag Doll says immediately. He shakes his head. “Arctic and I both have mental defenses, but you don’t. We know your power and now, knowing the extent of it, we can’t risk having him turn you again. It’d be like facing an army—”

“You’ll need an army against him,” you interrupt again. You press a hand against your chest. “I know how many minions he has. I know the layout. I know the location. You need me.”

“But if he gains control of you again—”

“He can only control twenty of me,” you say. You’re feverish and jittery so you stand. You pound your hand against your chest. “Only twenty, so I’ll be a hundred of me. I’ll be so many that those he manages to ensnare won’t stand a chance against the rest. I can do it. I can be more than he can handle. He got the jump on me but he won’t again.”

Arctic furrows her brow. “A hundred? You can make that many clones?”

You laugh darkly. You weren’t a good villain. Your goals were always too small. Robbing a grocery store, taking over the local theater, stealing the water from the water tower. They don’t know what you can do. “I can do more than you know. I can do more than Devil Eyes knows.”

Silence fills the room as the heroes think. The air freshener sprays a new puff of vanilla.

Rag Doll clears his throat. “If we let you come—”

“Rag Doll!”

“—if ,” Rag Doll emphasizes to Arctic. To you he says, “You won’t kill anyone?”

Of course I’m going to— “No,” you say. You cross your fingers under the table. “It’s just….” You look down at the wood grain. You say in a small voice, “I had to escape alone.”

Whatever protest Arctic was about to voice dies on her lips. “There were others there?” Her gaze sharpens, a bloodhound on a scent. “Who? Where?”

Aha. You guessed right. Arctic is patient. Arctic is polite. She’s been neither of those things during this conversation. What she has been is impatient and demanding. Devil Eyes has someone Arctic cares about. Devil Eyes might even have a hero from Arctic’s team.

“I didn’t see them,” you whisper. You glance up from under your lashes to find the heroes hanging onto your every word. “But I know where he keeps them.” You bite your lip. “I—I shouldn’t have left them there. I know what it’s like being under his control. I know what he does.” You sit upright, meeting their eyes unflinchingly. “I want to save them. I’ll pay for my crimes after, I swear. I won’t run. But Devil Eyes needs to be stopped.” You let your voice crack. “Please. I need to help stop him.”

Arctic softens. “Virus—sorry. Please, is there anything else I can call you?”

Your lip trembles. “My mother called me Dandelion.”

“Dandelion,” Arctic says. “That’s lovely. Dandelion, I understand how you feel. I don’t think—”

Rag Doll stops her with a hand on her arm. “Arctic? Can we talk in the hall?”

“Of course.”

You watch the heroes leave the room. As soon as the door closes, your lip stops trembling. Your shoulders straighten. Your eyes stop glistening.

Rag Doll and Arctic will argue for ten minutes. You’re a former villain and, despite your lack of real villainy in your history, you can’t be trusted. You know Devil Eyes’ hideout, but you’re also fresh out from his control. You’re powerful, but that power can be turned against them.

But those arguments will only last ten minutes. The reality is that they don’t have a choice. You're not going to give them the location without being allowed to tag along. They don’t have time to wait for Foresight or even the Mind Squad who specialize in dealing with mental powers like Devil Eyes’. They’re heroes and the villain has one of their own. They have to act.

You settle back in your chair. They’ll agree to your terms. Your stomach twists. It’s nauseating to think about going back there. A year. Devil Eyes stole a year from you.

You hide your grin as the door opens.

“Alright. Let’s get you kitted out. You’re coming with us, Dandelion.”

You’ll be stealing a lot more from him.

Then instead of crying, maybe you’ll be laughing.

Only one way to find out.

--------

Thanks for reading! I love mind powers in the Superhero universe but they sure are a pain to write!

If you’d like to read stories like this or like others on my blog a week before I post them here, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Next week’s story is already up! Summary:

Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. TW blood, death, violence, child death

Thanks again for reading!

[ferigrievous]

♬⋆.˚ masterlist .ᐟ.ᐟ

#AKAASHI: “ we are the protagonists of this world “

grey . xe/xem . autistic dyke . 🇵🇭 . carrd

─ INBOX ; requests are open .ᐟ

★ - fluff ; ☆ - angst ; ✮ - other ; ✯ - completed

HAIKYUU.

⤷ tsukishima kei ; philophobia | ☆ |  one ; two ; three

⤷ tsukishima kei ; luminescence | ★✯ | one

⤷ oikawa tooru ; regalia | ★✯ | one

⤷ kenma kozume ; stars in his eyes | ★✯ | one

JUJUTSU KAISEN.

⤷ megumi fushiguro ; darkroom chemicals (fluff ) | ★☆✯ | one

⤷ inumaki toge; sanctum (fluff) | ★✯ | one

⤷ inumaki toge ; last words of a shooting star | ★✯ | one

⤷ choso kamo ; laundry & taxes | ★ | one ; two

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA.

⤷ tokoyami fushiguro ; kiss me (until my lips fall off ) | ★✯ | one

⤷ shinso hitoshi ; two feet to the left | ★✯ | one

⤷ shinso hitoshi ; silence of the mind | ★✯ | one

⤷ tenko shimura ; god please reveal me the truth | ☆✯ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; bloody mary | ☆✯ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; ego syntonic | ☆✯ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; dead on arrival | ☆✯ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; the spaces in between | ☆✯ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; chronostasis | ☆✯ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; cardinal sin | ★☆ | one ; two

⤷ touya todoroki ; dreamless in early graves | ★☆✯ | one

⤷ touya + shouto todoroki ; born a weapon | ★☆ | one ; two ; three ; four

⤷ touya todoroki ; when hell freezes over | ★☆✬ | one ; two ; three

⤷ touya todoroki ; born to die | ★☆✯✬ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; you cried wolf, so i came running | ★☆✯✬ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; 11:11 | ★☆✯✬ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; rotten dog | ★☆✯✬ | one

⤷ touya todoroki ; cause and effect | ★☆✯✬ | one

[aaizawashouta]

Here Comes Trouble

pairing: kirishima eijiro x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: all you wanted was a little attention

warnings: smut (minors, dni) oral (f receiving)

a/n: it’s me, hi, i’m the problem, it’s me.

Nobody hates Katsuki Bakugou more than you do. And while that is stretching the truth because you love him, he’s your best friend, it’s not stopping you from wanting to strangle him right now. He knows you just as well as Kirishima does and you want to throttle him. He’s doing it on purpose. Pulling him back every time you try to get his attention. It’s fucking annoying.

All you want is your goddamn boyfriend’s attention.

It was your idea to invite everyone over. To set out finger food, soda and beer. Even the liquor cabinet is unlocked. Maybe that’s what’s gotten into you. You’ve downed three cranberry vodkas already and the night is still young. Denki and Mina are setting up the karaoke machine in the living room. With this much liquid courage running through your veins, there is no doubt that you’ll be the star of the show. You sway to the music in the kitchen, no one notices your absence. You were the resident lightweight, one of Kirishima’s favorite things about you. It makes you fun, you’re always so serious, mama. Sometimes you need to let loose. Your gaze drifts over to the said man occupying your mind. He’s sitting at the dining room table with the others playing a game of poker. From what you can tell, Todoroki is wiping the table. It isn’t your game–terrible poker face, but you could always call someone else’s bluff.

Tilting your head, you stare at him. Eijiro Kirishima. The only person you allow to call you uptight. Because, well, maybe you are. Maybe he needs to fuck it out of you. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring, but it’s long enough for him to feel it. His eyes snap up to yours, an easy going smile taking up his face. You do your best to smile back, lifting your glass to your lips and downing the rest of it. Kirishima’s eyebrows raise at the action, a knowing look passing his eyes. Shit. Shit. You’ve been found out. If you’re good at calling people’s bluffs, Kirishima is good at calling yours. He doesn’t have to look so cocky about it, though. You huff, biting your lip as your boyfriend pushes back his chair and makes his way to you. The guys shout in protest, Bakugou's hand shooting out to land on Kiri’s shoulder. The redhead stops and glances down. Your gaze narrows when the blonde glances at you before saying something to your boyfriend. They both laugh.

You watch as he rounds the counter, arms snaking around you, caging you in. Melting into his embrace you rest your head in his chest. A soft whine escapes you when he kisses the top of your head, his cinnamon flavored breath fanning over you. Tilting your head back up, you don’t make it to his amused gaze. Sighing, your hands run up his arms, rubbing at his shoulders, scratching up the back of his neck. One hand trails back down, index finger catching the chain hidden under his shirt. You thumb at the pendant, the grove of your first initial smooth against your skin. It’s the silver band that has your attention. It used to bother you that he never wore it for others to see. But you understand now; feeling Eijiro’s heartbeat under your hand as you fiddle with the necklace.

"What's gotten into you?" he grins, taking you by the chin. Taking in your flushed cheeks and pouty lip, his grin only grows. "Fuck. Baby, don't you go looking at me like that. It'll do things to a man."

You crinkle your nose, jutting out your lip even more. You don't even have to say anything, he knows exactly what your look means. The effect it's having on him is obvious. Kirishima groans softly in his throat, readjusting himself in jeans. His gaze lingers on you before moving to the rest of the table. "Mama, please. Can't you wait just a little longer?"

With the eyes of the other heroes still on you, you decide it best not to make a scene. Lord knows they’d never let you live it down. Begrudgingly, you sigh and allow Kirishima to free up a second chair. Falling into the seat given to you, a polite smile flashed at Bakugou and Todoroki. Everyone here is family, a family built on trust and mutual respect. You aren't a hero, and have no desire to live in the clouds. But everyone loves you all the same, and because you’re Kirishima’s, they care for you just the same. They learned to read you and your moods just as they had with Kirishima . Bakugou grins at you, but doesn’t say a word. The other three watch you, but they keep most of their conversations directed towards Kirishima.

Their chatter drags on for close to an hour, occasionally rising to an ungodly loud volume when they roar with laughter. You don’t know what’s funny enough to have Midoriya about falling out of his chair, as long as he’s having a good time, you suppose. Chin resting against your palm, you listen with mild disinterest. Another ten minutes passes by until you decide that you have been patient long enough. Discreetly under the table, you nudge Kirishima’s calf with your foot, trying to get his attention. When he moves it away, unaware of your intentions, you huff in annoyance. He’s too caught up in his conversation with Sero to notice when you kick your sandal off. While keeping a bored face, you slide your toes up the inside of one of his spread thighs, stopping when you reach his crotch. That gets his attention.

Grunting at the contact, Kirishima plays it off the best he can. His hand grabs your foot under the table, squeezing it in warning. You’ve never really been good with subtle clues. Pursing your lips, you tug your foot back and he releases it. You wait for their conversation to go on a while longer before trying again. This time you will succeed.

Kirishima doesn't release your foot. His grip is firm, but not hurting you. Thumb rubbing up the arch of your foot and digging into the sole. It makes you jump hard enough your knee whacks the table. It makes you want to moan. Fuck, it doesn’t matter where he’s touching you, he’s always good with his hands. When a shaky sigh leaves you, he scoots out his chair and turns to you.

“Is there something you need from me?” he murmurs low in your ear.

Eyeing him up and down, you slowly pull your foot away from him and stand to your feet. His hands are grasping your hips, keeping you from escaping. Shaking your head, your teeth bite at the inside of your cheek as your thighs rub together.

“Don’t need anything that you’re not willing to give, Eijiro.”

His eyes darken, the color you love so much being drowned out. He scoots back, allowing you to pass. He’s on you within seconds. In your bedroom, the door shut, he’s flush against you. Nose bumping against yours, he's holding you to him, and you whine, because god, this is all you’ve wanted. It’s all you’ve thought about all day. You tried to be good, really, you did. But Kirishima is a goddamn drug and so, so good to you.

He takes your face between his hands and slides his tongue into your mouth. Sighing, you count one, two, three steps before he has you pinned against the wall of your bedroom. Shaky hands slip underneath his cotton shirt, sliding your palms against the expanse of his abdomen. You grin when his muscles clench at the light touch. You trace the line of hair that disappears into his jeans, and when you reach for the button of his pants, he bites down on your lip.

A gasp at the silent reprimand, and before you can run your tongue to sooth the bite, he’s already on his knees, tugging your shorts and panties down and tossing them over his shoulder. Bradley kisses your thigh when he hoists a leg over his shoulder. He gives you no time to process in your slightly drunken state what’s happening before he uses his thumb and forefinger to part you and drags his tongue up to your clit.

Gasping, your knees buckle and you reach for a handful of his hair to steady yourself.

“Eijiro,” You moan, hips already moving to match the pace of his tongue. “I—” Your eyes roll back and your head drops against the wall, the muscles in your thighs already beginning to shake in anticipation of the orgasm coiling tightly in your stomach.

The creak of the hall bathroom door sounds, echoing through the silence of your bedroom. Your eyes open, tilting your chin to stare down at Kirishima. His eyes are hard, wild, dangerous. Everything you’re wanting and there is no stopping, there is no slowing down. No one can see you in here, they’d have to walk in. You lick your lips, eyes flying to the door right across from you. Kirishima, well aware of the situation, only adds more pressure to the quick flicks of his tongue on your clit, you squeak in warning as a set of footsteps pass right by the door. You inhale a shaking breath, doing nothing for you as the voices of Mina and Denki ring out over the music. Fuck, you forgot about karaoke.

“Come on, mama,” he murmurs against you, and you catch a flash of his smile as he looks up at you. “Count. Let's see how long it takes.”

“Are you insane?” you hiss, eyes darting to the door once again.

A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you glance down to see a red mark in the shape of his teeth on your inner thigh. “Did you just fucking bite me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it. Now count.” There’s no denying the threat in his voice. The threat of him keeping you away from your release until you do what he says.

His lips find your clit again, and while there's a part of you that knows that this isn’t a good idea, you cannot bring yourself to care. He wanted you to be fun, he wanted you loose. So here you are bearing it all. If his friends just so happen to be witnesses to it, well, that’s on you. He told you to wait, but you wanted to be a needy brat instead. No, this isn’t a bad idea. How can it be when his mouth feels that good? It’s definitely not a bad idea as you lace your fingers through his hair and start to count.

“One, two, three…five, seven, um…” You swallow back a moan and clench your eyes shut trying to focus. “ I lost count, do I have to start over?” His teeth graze your clit and you jump at the rush of pleasure that shoots through you. “I’m not starting over— fifteen, sixteen…oh god, Eijiro.” You grind yourself against him, digging your fingers into his shoulders. “Oh, my god. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty…twenty-seven.”

Your eyes close, letting your body lose itself to the rhythm of his tongue. To the feel of him slipping a thick finger inside you, to the heightened sensation of goosebumps racing up your chest.

“Thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty, thirty— oh —” you give up on counting when your stomach tenses. Your legs nearly give out, and you tug on his hair so hard you're surprised it's not ripping out of his head.

You moan his name. Loud.

Right before you have the sense to be embarrassed, your orgasm floods you, setting your body on fire and lighting up every nerve in its wake. Kirishima jumps to his feet, your shorts already in his hands, he’s holding you up while dressing you. Your legs shake against him. Your knees buckle a bit when he finally pulls back. Your head rolls against the wall until your cheek presses against the cool surface and you moan softly with each after shock pulsing through you, quaking through your trembling body.

Kirishima smooths out your shirt, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He takes your chin and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You sigh, tasting his cinnamon gum and you mingled together. It was a heady mix. He wraps his arms around you and opens the door, leading you down the hallway. It’s the flood of music and the mental haze of your orgasm leaving that reminds you that you just came. You came loudly with your house full of people. You freeze, bare feet sliding against the hardwood floor as Kirishima keeps you forward.

“Do you, do you think they heard?” You whisper, tilting your head up.

“Oh, they one hundred percent heard. Deku might be nice and pretend that he didn’t.” There is no mistaking the air of satisfaction radiating from him.

“Oh my god.”

You bury your head in your hands as you round into the kitchen. The poker game has been abandoned. Everyone is in the living room, picking out their choice song for the singing competition about to take place. Kirishima clears his throat, making everyone turn and stare. You’re sure you could fry eggs from how hot your cheeks are. They know. All of them. Poor Midoriya can’t meet your eyes. You sigh, flopping down on the couch.

You didn’t feel like singing anymore. Not that it matters, everyone knows you’re the real winner tonight anyway. A sharp jab to your side catches your attention. You meet Bakugou’s shit eating grin with a deadpan stare.

“Thanks for the win, you bratty ass nerd.”

“What are you talking about?”

He tilts his head. “Made a bet. Told Ei if he helped me out I’d split with him.”

You hide your face behind your hands. Yeah, no one hated Katsuki Bakugou more than you.

[cohapon]

Today is my birthday!

I'm going to continue to make all sorts of artwork at my own pace! Please keep up the good work!

[theartisticcrow]

THE EVE OF REVOLUTION: A "Short" Analysis of the UHC shooter situation and what this could mean for the future.

[Originally written on 13 December, 2024 by yours truly]

I find myself quite intrigued by the events that have occurred within the past couple of weeks. Brian Thompson, former CEO of UnitedHealthcare, was shot dead in New York city and the working class hasn’t been this happy since the sinking of the Titan submersible [EDIT: I was told that apparently this exact line was used in a negative way by some politician and I want to say that I wrote this line on my own as a joke and I had no idea that this happened. I am a part of the working class. I am a part of the people who are happy when bad people die. I wrote this line jokingly trying to be funny and I did not intend for it to sound like something out of a news headline].

I’ll give a brief explanation of what happened in case you don’t already know: Brian Thompson was the CEO of UnitedHealthcare—as was previously mentioned—an American-owned private company meant to provide health insurance to American citizens who found themselves in need of it. However, UnitedHealthcare has a long and excruciating history of denying several claims for insurance without practical reason despite the majority of claims coming from people who do need the insurance money to cover the costs of healthcare related services. Millions of citizens have suffered and died as a result of the company's greed and lack of regard for the good of the people. UnitedHealthcare is neither the only health insurance company to operate in such ways. It is simply one of many American companies corrupted with power and all of them are aware of how their actions affect the public, but they do not care because the money that lines their pockets is built purely off the anguish of innocent people. 

I have reason to believe that this is the start of something greater, but there’s a lot here that I need to explain before I get to that point, so I hope you like reading because this is going to be a bit long.

On 4 December, Brian Thompson was shot and killed on the pavement outside the New York Hilton Midtown building along West 54th Street at roughly 6:45 a.m. (EST). The suspect was identified on CCTV footage to be a young man in a hoodie which concealed most of his face aside from a joyful smile as he walked away. He then escaped by bicycle and evaded the police for three days before allegedly being arrested in a McDonald’s with several pieces of incriminating evidence in Altoona, Pennsylvania. During the time that police went searching for the shooter, they found a bag in Central Park believed to belong to the suspect that was filled with monopoly money (the fake currency from the capitalism board game) along with three bullet casings at the sight of the shooting that had written on them the words: Deny, Defend, Despose. Seeing as the police had no leads, they began requesting the help of the public, but were met with an interesting response that went something along the lines of ‘claim denied’. 

All across the world, the UHC shooter was quickly regarded as a hero. People began celebrating the death of Brian Thompson and began laughing in the faces of the government, police and news outlets alike. The media attempted to pose the assassination as a shocking and unexpected tragedy and the vast majority of the population could do all but take them seriously. The news spread like a wildfire across all internet platforms. Fan art began being posted online, a UHC shooter look-alike contest was held and every news article was filled with people in the comments merely laughing. Quite soon after the assassination, it was discovered that someone left a balloon at the sight of the shooting that depicted a graphic of a star with a smiley face and written in pink text, “CEO DOWN”. People began calling him The Claims Adjuster. He became viewed as the real life version of Robin Hood. People would turn on the news each morning to make sure he hadn’t been caught yet, expressing that they actually felt safer knowing that the shooter was still at large.

On 9 December, Luigi Mangione was arrested by local police in Pennsylvania and accused of killing Brian Thompson after an employee of the fast food joint he was sat in reported to police his location. However, there is no true confirmation that he is the real UHC shooter. He was arrested in a McDonald’s supposedly with several pieces of incriminating evidence including a gun and a three page explanation of his motives. The day after his arrest Luigi Mangione immediately accused the police of having planted the evidence. And despite police having offered reward money to anyone that gave them a reliable tip, the McDonald’s employee received not even a penny. The conditions of his arrest immediately presented themself as extremely suspicious. You’re telling me that the guy who carefully planned out and succeeded in the assassination of a corrupt health insurance CEO as well as escaping on a bicycle and evading authorities for several days was caught multiple days later in a McDonald’s with a gun and three pages explaining how and why he committed the crime? The chances of this being true are quite unlikely, especially considering the American police department’s notorious incompetency and a long history of corruption and lies. (All cops are bastards.) A far more realistic situation that would make more sense in the UHC shooter timeline is one in which the police either decided to or were given the order to arrest an innocent man that matched what was known of the shooter’s profile as closely as possible, planting fake evidence at the scene of the arrest and doing everything within their power to deny this man a fair defense in an attempt to shut down whatever hope and optimism has sprung up among the public, considering that if enough people realise how many other individuals feel the same of this situation and they possess the same spite and anger towards those in power, it could eventually lead to revolutionary tendencies. 

Along with this, there have already been several efforts made by the government to silence the voices of the opposition, in particular those who have openly threatened other health insurance companies and/or have worked to expose the corruption of some of those said companies. Such is the case with a woman in Florida, Brianna Boston who ended a phone call with her insurance company Blue Cross Blue Shield—who had just denied her medical claim—by saying: “Delay, deny, despose. You people are next.” She was then arrested despite having no weapons, nor a criminal record of any kind and is being charged with a crime she did not truly commit.

A few news articles recently appeared describing Luigi Mangione as having an outburst outside of the court, however upon reviewing the footage it becomes clear that this is not what happened, rather the outburst came more from the police officer with a hand around Mangione’s neck and another officer that slammed Mangione into a wall after he had attempted to communicate “It’s completely unjust and an insult to the intelligence of the American people and their lived experience”. The government is already enforcing censorship upon the internet and citizens where they can, and the media is making every effort to sway the opinion of the American people by posing the assassination as something to be scared of. This is called fear mongering and it is quite prevalent in American politics (as well as Nazi Germany).

But regardless of every attempt the government and media makes to take control of the situation, they cannot control the sudden shift in American politics that has been prompted by the assassination of Brian Thompson. For the longest time—ever since the end of George Washington’s presidency, really—the politics in the United States have always been made out to be a conflict of the Left versus the Right. Democrats versus Conservatives. However, as of the past couple weeks it would seem as though the true conflict in American politics has been realised by more and more people. It has nothing to do with the different political groups that exist partially to keep the country divided and weak. The true enemy of the people is the privileged and wealthy elites. It is all the lower classes—regardless of their beliefs, religion or who they are as a person—versus the wealthy politicians, billionaires and corrupt CEOs that have come to believe the citizens are there to serve them rather than the other way ‘round as it truly should be. The people of America are slowly becoming more and more united by a similar motivation: Liberty, equality, fraternity. For far too long have these wealthy company executives and corrupt politicians sat upon a throne of blood and lies bought with the money stolen from innocent people, gorging themselves upon a feast of human suffering and wine made from the tears of children whose parents were killed in a bombing run funded by the US government for no other reason than profit and power. But little do these people know that terror does not reign. That term in of itself was also a lie, and they were so caught up in their own lies that they forgot they were just as frail and weak as every other human being that they slaughtered to get their way. To put it simply: Times are changing and so is the people’s tolerance. 

Of course, not everyone agrees. There are some who I have seen say that the death of Brian Thompson should not be celebrated. That to do so should be considered sick and twisted behaviour, but what the people saying this either do not realise or are choosing to fully disregard is the fact that Brian Thompson condemned thousands of people to death and made his entire fortune off of doing so. Some argue that now his children are without a father and that is a reason not to support it, but think of how many children have ended up without fathers, or mothers because he made the deliberate and knowing choice to deny them the insurance that could have saved their life? What about friends, family, parents who have lost their own children because of things that insurance refused to cover, deeming it unnecessary despite doctors making clear that nothing else is more important than the very thing that insurance is denying? Brian Thompson’s family will be fine. They live in a house built of blood and bone. Few people can afford even so much as a broom closet.

The media has referred to Brian Thompson’s assassination as ‘brutal’, ‘shocking’, and an act of ‘senseless violence’. They speak as though everyone could not see it coming, because they do not bother to acknowledge the inherent violence that the entire medical, insurance, and governing system is built upon. They spread propaganda and provide the richest country in the world with a major lack of proper education in an effort to keep the people from rising against them, however this fear and every attempt to prevent it from happening will be the very thing that has wrought it in the end. This assassination was not unprovoked, nor was it an overreaction. It was long overdue and truly a wonder that it didn’t happen sooner. If this were somewhere like France, people would be outraged. They would be setting fires in the streets and threatening to shit in the river. The reason this doesn’t happen in America is due to the country’s history.

America is rather young compared to other countries in say Europe, Asia or Africa. They fought a revolutionary war, but after that, the newly formed United States focused on taking over the rest of the land now known as modern day America. The early government was ruled by slave owners and racists. Their education system is underfunded, thus the people do not learn a good enough history. The country is built upon violence, war, nationalism, hatred and a people that have come to treat their political figures like gods. That is not to say other countries are not full of flaws, but I’m rather choosing to focus on the history of the United States and what led to the country’s current predicament and I’ll be using that historical knowledge to explain the true significance of the UHC shooter because it’s the start of something big and I’ve been saying it for years. 

American politics are inherently fascist. That part is obvious, but why? There are several factors throughout American history that come into play here, but I believe that a lot of it can be traced back to the American Revolutionary War and the creation of the country itself. Revolutions are prompted by many of the same and similar factors all throughout history. This can be observed in the American Revolution, French Revolution, Russian Revolution, Haitian Revolution, etcetera… However the American Revolution can be said to differ in a fair few ways. In particular, the American Revolution was prompted by a desire for separation from England and the issues it was causing for the colonies as well as the freedom to do what they wanted with the land across the sea, including expanding their territory West into lands that were already occupied by the native people. Keep in mind, this is one of several factors, but it is what can objectively be referred to as one of the major priorities/motivations in what led them to declare war. The Americans also throughout this part of history and all the way up to the present day saw the native people as inferior. This was a common theme within its politics and nationalistic ideologies that the country maintains today. The vast majority of the major revolutionary figures were slave owners. Come the time of the revolution, they made no efforts to bring a proper end to slavery. Many of them believed it wasn’t necessary. They started to form a new government and formed new laws. However, many parts of the American justice system possessed several flaws and several contradictions. Political corruption became prevalent fairly quickly. (Although that is not to say that any government is without corruption.) 

There is also the thing I mentioned earlier of how the United States has a strange habit of treating politicians like gods. Praising and worshipping at their feet like it’s a cult. Children must stand in their classrooms and pledge their life to a country that betrays them time and time again. This is known as America’s weird obsession with nationalism (a concept basically created by Napoleon). But what does the country owe them? What has the country ever done for them? America is the war country. There is a specific reason that it is often referred to as the American Revolutionary War, because the battle they fought is different from other revolutions in history. It was not the same kind of uprising as the French Revolution for example, which was the working class people fighting against the monarchy and taking over the government. The American Revolution functioned more like two countries fighting against each other rather than an uprising and take over of the government within one country. 

America often likes to proclaim itself as the ‘freest country in the world’, but I always have to call into question what that statement is actually referring to. Among the things the Americans fought for in their revolution is the freedom of expression, but the government is constantly fighting to strip away the rights of as many people as they can and turn the country into an authoritarian dictatorship. So it’s rather hypocritical, isn’t it? I ask once again: Freedom for whom, and to do what exactly? Freedom for white men to do what they like with whomever they please? Freedom for the police and military to kill anybody that they disagree with or don’t like for whatever reason? What about the freedom of having affordable housing, food, medical care and education? The monopoly game of a country run by clowns (derogatory) can’t even do that much. Politicians are supposed to serve and protect the people, not the other way around. Yet so often do I see people forget or completely disregard that fact. The education system is underfunded for a reason. 1984 by George Orwell is banned for a reason. The system is not flawed. It is working exactly as it was designed, keeping people divided and weak whilst also presenting them with the illusion of freedom as they set up every other citizen for failure. But that tactic is exactly what will bring its downfall. You can already see it happening. You can smell it in the air: the calm before the storm. It’s really not that hard to see so long as you know where to look.

The American people, in particular the political left, seem hesitant to get up and physically fight back. There is a hesitance there that results in them not defending their rights as ruthlessly as they should. The origins in this hesitance do lie partly in the American Revolutionary War and the particular major revolutionary figures in said war. The way the country was founded and slowly sculpted into what it is today. They wanted freedom, but for different reasons. They had different goals and motivations. Of course the country born from a war is going to do nothing but wage war. It’s just a matter of why so many of the people would rather sit around and wait for something to happen rather than doing something themselves? Why is it not the same in somewhere like France where the people are more than willing to break out into a riot at the slightest change to a law? While I already made a comparison to France as I explained the difference between a revolutionary war and a proper revolution, I’m going to talk about the French Revolution again and in a little more detail, because I believe there’s no better way to explain the problem with American politics and where said politics are heading than by talking about the most impactful revolution in history.

France is a country decidedly owned by the people with a government meant to serve the people whether the politicians like it or not. The French Revolution is arguably the most iconic revolution in history with an impact that has stretched across multiple centuries, and it’s my personal favourite historical event to study. Call me biased all you want, but that thirty page essay changed me in ways I still have yet to figure out and I might as well use this knowledge however I can. Of course, I can't start talking about my favourite historical event without starting with a disclaimer: Maximilien Robespierre was not a bloodthirsty dictator. That is a very common misconception made popular by Thermidorian and British propaganda, but it is not true. Any historian of the French Revolution worth their salt should be able to confirm this. Regardless, when most people think of the French Revolution, they think only of the Terror and a historically inaccurate depiction of Robespierre, but it is so much more than that. People who think only from this perspective are truly missing out on the bigger picture (as well as the autism). This revolution was fought by the citizens of France as they demolished an entire royal monarchy and fought for years to keep the country from collapsing under the intense pressure of having all of Europe declare war on them. 

I occasionally see people saying that the French Revolution failed, but if you’re the type of person to prioritise thorough research, you would know that this is not true. The French Revolution most certainly did not fail. It set the groundwork for the freedom and equality of the French people. During the Revolution, they got rid of slavery (until Napoleon came along), they legalised homosexuality, cut off the heads of several rich people and so much more. They established the National Assembly and the National Convention, and eventually the CSP (Committee of Public Safety, and that’s how I get confused whenever someone brings up Child Protection Services by its acronym). The Revolution succeeded in so many ways with its major failing being for the most part putting so many responsibilities on the shoulders of the individual members of the CSP and expecting them to be able to handle all of that. The French Revolution had a massive impact upon the world, changing it in so many different ways and it represents so many things that I could genuinely spend fifty pages talking about its historical significance and how it relates to the modern world, but I will keep things brief (for once) with a quick summary so that it’s at least somewhat comprehensible to those who doesn’t have my level of autism. 

The thing that sets the American Revolution apart from the French Revolution and explains in many ways the difference of politics lies in the ideas that drove each revolution. The Americans wanted ‘freedom’, sure, but the French wanted much more than just that. They strived for equality and a country that was not controlled purely by the monarchy and the church. By abolishing their monarchy—something that not even the Americans could do—they achieved a lot both in the short-term and long-term. The Revolution did not fail, even despite Napoleon, the Thermidorian Reaction and establishment of a constitutional monarchy just a few decades later. They killed their King, someone that held a position of power believed to be bestowed upon them by God, and they created a Republic. Such things were unheard of until now. This led to massive changes in society with the rise of the middle class. It redefined the concepts of governance, citizenship and human rights. The distribution of power was forever changed and the realisation that the French people could rise up against their own government, take down the monarchy and succeed is also what sparked the Haitian Revolution, as well as paving the way for the eventual elimination of several monarchies across the continent. It helped shape our modern day ideas of liberty and democratic rights and it unified the French people in a way that still affects the culture of France along with several other places. On top of that, it can also be said that the French Revolution set up the foundations for the rise of socialism and communism. The French Revolution succeeded in more ways than most people realise and it’s that fight for equality by the working class that has given France such an intense revolutionary spirit. To say that it was an overreaction to start burning stuff down when France’s government raised the retirement age by a couple of years is foolish, because that revolutionary spirit is the reason that the French have so many rights and America does not. 

And the only reason why people tell you that the French Revolution didn’t work or was a bad idea is because that then discourages other people from attempting any kind of their own revolt regardless of how corrupt and abusive the government becomes. So long as the public remains undereducated, they will be easier for the government to control.

That is also why I believe that history is the most important subject that you can learn in school. That’s also a part of why I’m saying all this. If you are able to understand the past, you can predict the future. Many of the same or similar factors are present before and during the beginning of every revolution. These factors often include, but are not limited to:

Inflation; a lack of affordable food and housing; increased violence; high levels of unemployment; social inequality; suppression of opposing voices; economic failure; increased class consciousness; underpaid workers; worker strikes; political protests; intentional election rigging; people no longer accepting the traditional powers of authority; rising popularity of radical ideologies; the collective realisation that several other individuals share the same opinion on a certain situation; increased risk and fear of death among the citizens; high taxes; a shift in politics that results in the people becoming less divided; increased focus on the real conflict being the privileged rich elites versus everyone else; politicians not keeping the promises of things they said they would do; decreased trust and approval of the government; stricter and more dictatorial laws; unlawful arrest of innocent citizens because of something they merely said (the government is becoming paranoid); lower classes becoming more and more fed up with the old regime; government debt; army/military joins the side of the people rather than the government; groups of people rebelling against the law; an ineffective government with politicians focusing on the wrong issues, ignoring the voices of the people and patting themselves on the back for nothing; politicians and government members are fighting amongst themselves and getting nothing done; political deadlock; more people speaking out against the government; the government is losing control over the people; the government is desperately trying to gain back control through the use of propaganda, fear mongering and taking advantage of media outlets; a general increased struggle to survive; mass frustration; riots and local uprisings; conflict between the old and new ways of governance; visible difference in wealth distribution; unifying motivations; and finally a prolonged period of economic and social development followed by a period of sharp reversal in which people fear that progress made is about to be stripped away and lost.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? Yeah, only after writing all this down in my draft did I realise that nearly every single cause of revolution can be applied as a true statement of the United States of America. Huh, what a funny and extremely specific coincidence that is. So what exactly am I suggesting here? Well, to essentially summarize everything that I have written thus far: We might just be on the verge of Revolution. I learned a while ago that once a country hits rock bottom, that’s when a revolution begins and based on the presidential election results, America is about to dive quite deep into the pits of Hell. But don’t worry, it’s not all doom and gloom. That’s why I’ve written this. So long as the individuals of the lower classes are able to stand united and fight for liberty, equality and dare I say fraternity, a greater change shall be able to be made. The choice of standing around and simply hoping that things will improve isn’t much of a choice anymore. There is no better time to take action than right now while we still have a fighting chance. This is not something to fear, but rather to look forward to and encourage. The American citizens combined together can greatly outweigh the government. Those wealthy politicians are not as powerful as they think they are. Their power lies in ensuring that the people remain divided and the recent events with the UHC shooter prove that there is indeed a chance to diminish that power. They are not immortal. Even the greatest empire eventually burned away. 

And while we can’t all be famous revolutionaries, that doesn’t mean that each person can’t help to bring the change we’ve needed for a long time. It starts small. It starts with taking care of our own communities and advocating for other people every chance we get. So long as we as a people remain united, there is little change we cannot bring. The Revolution has only just begun…

[irondadfics]

hello! I'm looking for fanfics where Peter dies and the reaction of others to his death, it could be deaths in different ways! I rewatched Avengers: Endgame and I admit that rewatching Peter's death gave me a bit of Peter's death problems...leaving those traumas aside Are there any you can recommend? Thanks for your help!

here are some for you.

The Five People Who Missed Peter Parker the Most by seekrest

And the one who was there when he left. Or... A journey through grief from the perspectives of those Peter Parker left behind.

his shooting star by searchingforstars

Tony and May are tucked up on the sofa. They trade conversation back and forth, quick quips and quiet murmurings until like something inevitable, the changing of the seasons, the turning of the tide, Peter’s name is on both of their lips.  Spider-Man might live on forever, memorialised on the streets of New York City, but Peter lives on in a far more intimate way - in Tony’s thoughts, May’s dreams, the stories shared between them both.  A precious secret for them to hold close to their chests. -- or, after the snap, Tony and May grieve Peter Parker.

the world is collapsing (exploding like a star) (series) by zashizawa

in which peter dies.

The lack of noise (is more haunting than you'll ever know) by Angeeelatin

They started calling him, Spider-man, the hero of the people. It was a title that he had, in the months that followed, never fell short to uphold. And… It was a title he died upholding. or: Peter Parker is dead. This is the aftermath

Funny When You're Dead (How People Start Listening) by pandaluna

After the Snap, the world was in disarray. People turning to dust became the common nightmares with which humanity had to struggle. There was chaos all over the world when people from all around the world panicked and tried to find their loved ones, begging the heavens and every single God in existence for the people they knew to still be alive and well, safely living their lives and not lost in the wind. But then they noticed. They noticed that Spider-Man was gone, too. Queens was the first to notice. The people living in the borough felt unsafe, the familiar flashes of red and blue gone from their streets. They looked for their vigilante – for their hero – everywhere, but he was gone. And once they started talking about it, whispering about the disappearance of their beloved hero, the rest of the city woke up and started demanding answers about where Spider-Man was. Thirteen months after the Snap, Stark Industries released a video called ‘If I Die Young’. Nobody needed to think too hard about what the video would be about. They all just pressed play and watched it.

It Wasn't Supposed to be You by seeingthoughtsthroughwords

He was supposed to do it... Not him. *What if Peter was the one to wield the Infinity stones and reverse the snap?*

Outsider by PinkEasterEggs

Chapter 2: A Father's View

A look into the 5 years Tony spent grieving for his son.

The Long Way Round (series) by undeerqueen

Tony wants him to hold on. Peter just wants to go home.

Febuwhump 2019 by undeerqueen

Chapter 5: Major character death

yikes. warnings for major character death. this is an au set in the not-too-distant future.

other side by cold_nights_summer_days

Peter Parker dies in a tragic accident, and these are the final goodbyes from the three people who loved him the most.

[jadelotusflower]

Rewatch: Return to Oz (1985)

I've been on a bit of an Oz kick recently, revisiting the original Baum books and of course anticipating Wicked coming out later this year (which I'm managing expectations for to avoid disappointment).

Return to Oz was a staple (and nightmare fuel) for many a millennial childhood, at the tail end of the "dark fantasy" era popularised by The Neverending Story and The Dark Crystal, the antithesis of the Technicolour, musical world of MGM's The Wizard of Oz - a dystopian future that reflects the fracturing of Dorothy's mind and her inability to reconcile the trauma of her previous Kansas-Oz journey.

Return lives in a sort of mirror world to the 1939 film, taking elements such as the ruby slippers (for which Disney had to pay MGM a hefty fee), but returning to the original illustrations for the character designs, and drawing inspiration from Baum's novels but not explicitly adapting them. It also returns Dorothy to a child rather than Garland's quasi-teenager, which is important as I feel Baum (an advocate of women's suffrage) had a keen interest in the empowerment of girls as the heroes of their own stories.

To evoke that other turn of the century fantasy classic, Dorothy is to early modern American folklore as Alice is to English, and if The Wizard of Oz is Wonderland, Return to Oz is Through the Looking Glass. In fact Return relies heavily on the mirror motif, not only literally, in the mirror that entraps Ozma, but Ozma herself as a mirror to Dorothy. Return also takes the Kansas/Oz dichotomy from the film in reflecting people Dorothy knows in Kansas to characters of Oz (a concept not found in the books), but while in Wizard it’s Dorothy’s trio of friends that are personified in the Scarecrow, Tinman, and Cowardly Lion, in Return it is her trio of antagonists from Kansas who appear in Oz - the Dr Worley/The Nome King, Nurse Wilson/Mombi, and the Orderly/Wheeler.

Her Oz friends in Return are instead pulled from inanimate objects - Ozma gives her a pumpkin that personifies in Jack Pumpkinhead, Tik-Tok resembles the "Electrical Therapy" machine with the face, and the gump...well, I guess they forgot about that one.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Fairuza Balk was just 11 but has a compelling screen presence - her Dorothy is troubled and serious, befitting the overall darker tone of the film. While she would go on to embody "witchy" energy in later roles, here there's a world-weariness yet innate strength to her Dorothy.

Aunt Em helpfully tells us it's been six months since the tornado and Dorothy can't sleep. Her body may be back in Kansas, but her mind remains in Oz.

The film doesn't really pick a lane between the "it was all a dream" of the 1939 film and the "Oz is an actual place" of the books, leaving it for the viewer to decide. We are told the old house was "lost" but that can suit either interpretation, same with the OZ key being either delivered by shooting star or the key to the old house (as Em posits). Dorothy's inability to sleep is either unresolved trauma from the tornado, or longing to return to her friends in Oz and/or sensing that there is trouble in Oz.

I'm much more sympathetic to Em as an adult - she has a husband unable or unwilling to finish building the new house, Dorothy won't stop rabbiting on about nonsense rather than helping with chores, and she has to borrow money from her sister to pay for medical treatment to try and cure Dorothy's insomnia.

Justice for Aunt Em! Played with grace by three-time Oscar nominee Piper Laurie (for The Hustler, Carrie, and Children of a Lesser God respectively).

Poor Toto doesn't get to come on this adventure, but hey, he's still around, guess Mrs Gulch didn't make good on her threat to have him destroyed (or she died in the tornado, which is probably likely given the Witch's fate).

Just a guy patronizing a child that the machine intended to surge electricity through her brain is perfectly safe because it has a face.

But there is a face in the machine - Ozma, stuck in the glass.

Nicol Williamson is our villain, with a fantastic voice. Mostly known for theatre and Shakespeare, you may remember him as Merlin from that other dark fantasy classic Excalibur, or as Little John from Robin and Marian.

Jean Marsh is our witch, complete with black gown and pointed sleeves - to continue our fantasy bingo she was Queen Bavmorda in Willow (which I've actually never seen) and Rose in the original Upstairs Downstairs (which I've never seen either). She'll always be creepy Mombi to me.

We see Ozma in the glass again before she appears in Dorothy's room, ethereal barefoot child gifting her a carved pumpkin because "it's Halloween soon". Okay, whatever you have to do to get there.

On that note, the screenplay was written by Gill Dennis (who would go on to co-write Walk the Line) and Walter Murch, who also directed. Murch was film school friends with George Lucas, and they wrote THX-1138 together - Lucas has a "special thanks" credit on this film. Murch worked steadily in sound design and editing (nominated for 10 Oscars with 4 wins), but after Return was a box office failure he never directed another film, which is a real shame.

Dorothy "combs" the pumpkins hair, which I find very charming.

The growing tension of Dorothy's isolation, being strapped to the gurney, the squeaking wheels, the far-off screaming: this is a horror film for children.

My sister and I used to re-create Ozma and Dorothy's escape on our grandmother's porch all the time.

Because we’re in a mirror, the streaming river of Kansas becomes the deadly desert of Oz - water, of course, also being a mirror and common pathway/doorway between worlds.

Billina the hen also appears, because Dorothy needs an animal companion, who can now talk because she is in Oz. The question is whether Toto could also talk, as all animals can in Oz, and simply chose not to (iirc in the books he didn't because he could "make himself understood" without words or something). The chicken puppetry is really quite good, I'll always prefer puppets/animatronics over cgi.

The voice of Billina is provided by Denise Bryer, who was the "junk lady" in Labyrinth (have we got that bingo yet?).

Another reflection - the packed lunch that was taken from Dorothy at the sanitarium in Kansas is returned to her in the form of a lunch pail tree in Oz, which leans towards the reading that Oz is a projection of Dorothy's mind as a way to cope and resolve/repair the traumas of her Kansas life.

Dorothy comes across her old house that is seemingly not in Munchkinland, the broken remains of the yellow brick road nearby. How much time has passed in Oz? Since everyone was turned to stone it could be hundreds of years and we're in a Narnia situation - at least long enough for a forest to grow where there once was a munchkin town square.

Glinda is conspicuous by her absence - probably because the plot couldn't happen if she was around.

Also absent are any stone munchkins which has very dark implications - the Emerald City still has ruins and stone inhabitants, but Munchkinland has been completely obliterated.

lol, Dorothy runs to the Emerald City in literally minutes, a journey that previously took half a film.

Sleep well, kids!

If we go with the interpretation that Oz is a manifestation of Dorothy's mind (maladaptive daydreaming?), it is interesting how she projects people and objects from her real life into her fantasy life - obviously her threats in the sanitarium become the villains, but the Electric Shock machine becomes Tik-Tok, her erstwhile protector. In this, she transforms a threat into an ally, and yet much is made that he isn't, and cannot be, "alive."

Many of the elements of this film - Billina, the Wheelers, Tik-Tok, the Nome King, and the princess with a hundred heads - came from Ozma of Oz, while Ozma herself, Jack Pumpkinhead, and the witch Mombi (combined in this film with Princess Langwidere) originate in the earlier The Marvellous Land of Oz, with a different backstory.

Oh to be a wicked witch, playing a mandolin, in a gilded, mirrored palace.

I enjoy this costume! Reflective of the high structured sleeves of nurse but sharp to emphasise the danger Mombi poses, and with the same mechanical accents/coloiur scheme as the Wheelers

Those cabinets full of heads are still so creepy. The way they watch Dorothy - are they alive and aware the whole time? Horrifying.

Jack Pumpkinhead was voiced by a young Brian Henson (who also acted as puppeteer).

I always used to fast-forward the scene where Dorothy steals the key and gets chased by headless Mombi as a kid, it was just too tense.

I mean maybe this isn't scary to kids today, but it sure freaked the fuck out of me. Especially with all of those heads screaming in their cabinets.

But how exactly was zombie Mombi snoring without a head?

Interesting that the cabinet with Mombi's original head is the only one without transparent glass, but instead has a mirror. Her original head is also kept in cabinet 31, which was Dorothy's room in the sanitarium. As a kid I was always dead set that Oz was real and Dorothy really went there, but now I'm leaning more towards Oz as a manifestation, or at least a world directly influenced and constantly adapting based on Dorothy's experiences. Was she unable to sleep in Kansas because she knew Oz was in trouble, or was Oz in trouble because of her mental discord?

"If his brain's run down, how can he talk?" "It happens to people all the time Jack!" is a nice callback to "Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking don't they?"

In which we strain the metaphor.

But all these mirrors also serve a story purpose as well as a metaphorical one - the mirror world is where Mombi has trapped Ozma, so she can look on every surface and see her victory. The mirror is also a connection with the real world, and how Ozma can reach Dorothy and draw her back to Oz. Mirrors are reflections, but they are also doorways, as we see in this very scene as Ozma directs Dorothy to the right passage to get back up to the tower.

We also get another Dorothy/Ozma parallel, in which she becomes a surrogate mother to Jack in place of Ozma, his creator.

There's almost some social commentary in the Nome King's grievances: "All the previous stones in the world are made here in my underground dominions...so imagine how I feel when someone from the world above digs down and steals my treasures? All those emeralds in the Emerald City really belong to me. I was just taking back what was mine to begin with." But of course he didn't just take back the emeralds, he turned the populace to stone or into inanimate objects so that does undercut his point a bit.

Her descent visually recalls (deliberate or not) Alice's fall down the rabbit hole in Wonderland. The VFX are pretty rough though.

Dorothy points out that he has so much, implying perhaps he could share, and the Nome King retorts "that's not the point." It is the point in later books, where under Ozma's leadership the Emerald City is essentially a utopian communal living society.

She also points out that the Scarecrow didn't take the emeralds rather they were there when he was made king, but the film is uninterested in exploring the culpability around generational wealth and repatriation of cultural property.

But it's interesting how much the Oz story revolves around powerful objects and theft and/or appropriation of them. Glinda steals the Witch of the East's ruby slippers and gives them to Dorothy, who then steals the Witch of the West's broom to give to the Wizard, Mombi steals Ozma, someone stole the emeralds from the Nome King, who steals them back, Mombi steals heads, Dorothy steals the Powder of Life, etc etc

At this point the Nome King is merely a face in the stone, but when he comforts Dorothy he starts to takes a more humanoid rock form, with a hand to reach out to her.

Is his sympathy genuine or feigned? I'm going with the latter, since he manipulates her into playing the "guessing game" to try and get the Scarecrow back.

Worst production of Starlight Express ever.

When I was a kid I always wanted to try the limestone pie and hot silver drink, but now it looks super gross.

The Gump chose…poorly.

The Nome King making points again - Dorothy and co didn't ask what would happen if they got it wrong, even Tik-Tok only brings it up after the Gump has already gone in. But they press on in order of most expendable, Jack (with Billina hiding in his head) and then Tik-Tok.

As each get turned into ornaments, we see the Nome King become more and more humanised in his rock form - a nice subtle indication that his motives aren't purely spite and he gains power from turning living (or living-adjacent) things into inanimate objects, the opposite (mirror) of Dorothy's power in turning inanimate objects into living things in the journey from Kansas to Oz. If Dorothy had chosen wrong too, he says he would have become completely human - would he have been able to access the path to the human world? Was his goal to eliminate Oz, the fantasy world, in favour of the human world, much like Worley was obsessed with harnessing electricity and the "modern" world?

It's revealed that Chekhov's ruby slippers that Dorothy earlier told Dr Worley had fallen off on her way back to Kansas the first time were found by the Nome King, and their power enabled him to conquer the Emerald City.

It's unclear whether the rubies were first mined from the Nome King's caverns, but Dorothy really can't complain given the shoes were magicked off the feet of a dead woman and onto her own.

I'm actually surprised that they kept the ruby slippers in given the license fee they had to pay, since nothing really turns on their inclusion, other than the Nome King's offer to send her home with them, allowing Dorothy the choice between her own safety and the lives of her friends, of course the parallel to Worley offering the ECT to wipe her mind of Oz. I do like the callback, but it didn't need to be the ruby slippers rather than some other power the Nome King had.

Hee, the Nome King's little stone feet kicking out of his stone robe with the ruby slippers is so camp.

It is interesting through to think about the chain of events - Dorothy, eager to get back home, lets go of the ruby slippers, they fall into the Nome King's hands, he uses them to conquer Oz and install Mombi, who has imprisoned Ozma in the mirror (at some point long in the past). The fracturing of Oz influences Dorothy's mental state which drives her to Worley, where Ozma is able to contact her through the mirror world and bring her back to Oz, depose the Nome King/Mombi, and restore Ozma to her throne. It's quite neat writing.

There's an interesting green/red dichotomy - red seems to represent the witch's power, the ruby slippers that originally belonged to the Witch of the East, Mombi's ruby key, fire/red smoke being used by the Witch of the West, and even pink was the colour associated with Glinda in the 1939 film, while green represents Oz in the ornaments they turn into, the Emerald City, the Gump is green, etc. Both rubies and emeralds are present in the Nome King's costuming, perhaps indicating that the raw items did come from his dominions.

When Dorothy chooses correctly, the Nome King reverts to his claymation rock form, and the room turns red. I don't think it's explicitly green=good and red=bad (the Witch of the West had green screen after all), but both are associated with power.

I always used to fast forward this sequence as well. The Nomes coming out of the walls? *shudder*

The Nome King, felled by a classic egg poisoning.

Dorothy liberates the ruby slippers from another dead body, lol.

At the celebration in Oz, the costuming does lean heavily into either red or green - so maybe that was just standard complementary colour palette and I'm reading too much into things.

We get a nice long pan over the mirrored ceiling of the parade, just to really hit the point home.

Oh hey, the Wheelers are here too! All is forgiven I guess? Except Mombi, she gets to be paraded about in her cage by the woman whose heads she stole. Hey, at least she's able to smirk about her villainy.

Dorothy turns down queenship of Oz but wishes she "could be in both places at the same time" - the ruby slippers grant her wish and Ozma is released from the mirror.

Ozma's backstory: "Her father was king of Oz before the Wizard came. Ozma grew up as Mombi's slave, but when the Nome King promised Mombi thirty beautiful heads if she kept Ozma a secret, she enchanted her into the mirror." The first part is the much the same in the book, although there we get some interesting gender-bending stuff where Mombi transforms her into a boy name Tip and she doesn't discover her true nature until much later.

Dorothy gives Ozma the ruby slippers, combining the power of green and red (I'm just going with it now), therefore healing the kingdom of Oz from the discord first created when the Wizard arrived (in the book he was the one who gave baby Ozma to Mombi), and drawing Ozma's real world counterpart Dorothy to fix it by deposing the Wicked Witches and then the Nome King. But with Ozma returned, there is no need for Dorothy to remain in Oz, the two sides of herself are split and no longer warring inside her.

Billina however remains, to be Ozma's animal counterpart to Dorothy's Toto.

As a kid I coveted this gown, and I still kind of dig the headdress. Well, the OZ circlet anyway.

I also acted out the pulling Ozma from the mirror scene many times.

Although kind of a bitch move on Ozma's part to send Dorothy back before she could give her proper goodbyes. It's like, off you pop, thanks for freeing me but this is my kingdom now.

Dorothy wakes up beside the river (with a close up of a reflective pool of water/Dorothy's eye), and again, this could either be her actually returned by Ozma, or her simply waking from her delirium.

But the real world counterparts have met the same fate as their Oz reflections - Worley died in the fire and Wilson is carried off in a police cart.

Henry, after the shock of almost losing Dorothy, is motivated to finish building the house, and Dorothy is able to look back fondly at Oz through her reflection, but has learned to keep it a secret and not let it consume her life.

Her trauma is resolved, Oz is at peace; Dorothy and Ozma can live contentedly in parallel, with a connection between both worlds.

This is also a nice callback to the books, where Ozma would check in on Dorothy once a day through her magic mirror to see if she needed her assistance.

Maybe it's just my nostalgia goggles, but this film really holds up for me! Yes the effects are a little dated and it's on the darker side for kid's fare, but overall the story and acting is strong, there's meaty subtext around the importance - but necessary limits - of fantasy as escapism, it unequivocally centers girls/women as the heart of the story with their own agency and harnessing their own power. It's well worth the rewatch.

What do you think? Am I blinded by nostalgia? Reading way too much into a kids movie? Am I just rambling into the void here?

[teojira]

[ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀ]

ᴛᴇᴏᴊɪʀᴀ (ᴇꜱᴛ 2ᴋ24)

《Introduction》 +

《! Please read me !》

¤ Hi! My name is Teddy and this blog as it says on the tin, is a multifandom blog! I'm into a wide range of characters and interests, so I'm sure I have something that'll strike your fancy!

¤ This is an 18+ blog. This is to keep me and you safe should you be a minor. Please stay away! I can't police you, but use common sense.

¤ I will not deal with discourse here, don't like what I write or who I write for? Block me and move on, I don't care.

¤ I am a woman person of color, no hatred towards ANY group is tolerated here. It will end in an IP address block.

¤ My interests fluctuates alot, I have severe adhd and some characters will get special treatment depending on which mood I am in!

¤ I'm always down to chat and make conversation but please remember I'm human and I have a job outside of tumblr, this is just a hobby for me! Please be kind and understanding.

《RULES/GUIDELINES》

¤ Every character I will write romantic ideas for must be of age. Any minor will ONLY be platonic. (Exception being the tmnt brothers, they are aged up accordingly.)

¤I write comfort, fluff, angst, pretty much anything tbh.

¤ My own rule of thumb is that if a furry character is sentient, can consent and is of age, and speaks/thinks/acts like a human, it is akin to monster loving. (Harkness scale pretty much). I don't care for your take on it, block me if you disagree!

¤ I will not write nsfw if you are on anon, your age must be somewhere on your blog. I will delete it from my askbox.

¤ A please and a thank you go a long way!

¤ I usually write with she/her pronouns or gender neutral pronouns.

¤ I am not looking for critique, this is all for fun. This is a heavy boundary, I will block if you do this.

¤ NSFW will be tagged accordingly so you can black list, if I forget to tag something, kindly let me know. I am not responsible for your experience beyond that, act accordingly if I write something you don't like.

¤ Please include some details with your requests, such as character and a general idea on what you'd like me to write! Please don't write an essay in my ask box.

¤ Things I will not write: Pregnancy, Underage, harder kinks (Scat/Noncon/vore/piss), Character harming reader physically, Parenthood, character x character.

Not sure if I write something? Just shoot me a text!

¤ Do NOT share my writing anywhere else (Quotev, Ao3, wattpad, Tiktok). A Simple reblog is appreciated here and only on tumblr.

¤ Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! It's nice to know something I wrote was loved!

And finally what we've all been waiting for, put your hands together for the :

《 Fandoms I write for》

Genshin impact

Honkai Star rail

Transformers

Tmnt

Monsterverse (platonic only for the Kaijus)

Planet of the apes (remake) (NO nsfw)

My hero academia (Dabi and Tomura only)

Demon slayer

Overwatch

Twisted wonderland

Devil may cry

Apex legends (Revenant only)

Fire emblem three houses

Puss in boots: the last wish (Death only)

Stranger things (Eddie Munson only)

Red dead redemption 2

The Wolf among us (Bigby only)

Five nights at freddys: Security Breach

Sonic (platonic for everyone except Shadow)

DC comics/ DCEU

Horror icons/slashers

Countless other video game characters probably lmao.

Though I write for many fandoms, I'm more comfortable with specific characters so I'll let you know if I'm comfortable enough to write for them!

Don't see a character you're sweet on? No worries, shoot me a text and I'll see if I know anything about them to whip something up for ya!

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

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