#anyway despite this eyesore

[thelvadams]

happy birthday @mistress-light!

Time passes, people move. Like a river’s flow, it never ends.

[clinically-not-straight]

Imagine writing a post that says "man, i hate being called lgbt and not queer" then having someone reply "I dont call myself queer because I got abused alongside the use of that name which is also literally a fucking slur that is still used as the aforementioned slur" only to reply with "its ok because if someone tells me not to call them queer personally then i won't but I will call the community as a whole, you included, queer". And not seeing that you've written something really fucking backhanded.

Funniky enough I wouldn't hate being called queer if it felt worth it, or if I was like anyone that calls themself queer in the slightest. This group is the one that said "you can't say these words because they're bad" and having everyone go along with it and then immediately go "this word isn't actually bad now, sorry girlies." I'd give less of a shit if the word queer in its current use wasn't a synonym for cunt to me.

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 5 - No Time to Waste

It’s been a week and a half since the last power surge incident and so far everything was quiet. Too quiet for Batman’s liking. It definitely increased his paranoia which in turn causes him to be extra moody. The culprit? Whoever was behind the power surge in the Narrows. They became an anomaly to Gotham. Unwanted, an eyesore in the eyes of Batman.

And the issue is, there hasn’t been any news at all. No sightings, no suspects, nothing. Bruce felt challenged in a way. Something is in Gotham, living in his city and he feels like he’s still so far from discovering who or what it is. For the world's greatest detective is having a hard time solving this case. How frustrating.

With no news of another quantum breach, big or small, nothing. It’s frustrating. What’s even more of a headache about this unsolved case, is another thing that has come to his attention- thanks Jim.

Bruce started hearing more reports of a new ‘vigilante’. But there are no pictures, no camera footage, no evidence, just testimonies, occasional sightings and witnesses. Nothing concrete, nothing solid, just no proof. So frustrating.

And there is a pattern.

What he does know is that they are always quick and efficient, never staying too long, leaving once or before the police arrive, and it’s always low level crooks like muggers or thiefs. Respectful and polite (from those they saved) and they mostly keep to the shadows of the night.

Whoever this new problem is, is trying to stay hidden and Batman doesn’t like that at all. Not. One. Bit. 

Despite the Narrows being Duke’s territory, he is just one person who patrols in the daytime, so some of his sons and daughter help patrol at night. But it seems this newcomer has incredible luck and scurries off everytime they are even close to their location.

But this doesn’t mean Batman will just let it go, oh no. Of course not silly, he’s going to find this new vigilante and see what they are about. He’s going to evaluate them, judge them, and all it takes is one mess up. Just one and he will make sure they are locked up in Arkham.

A bit extreme, possibly. But he will take no chances, not when it comes to the safety of his city. Gotham is his to protect and defend, he’s keeping many eyes out for this intruder. Watch your back.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding hour B, but I have something I think you want to know. Also you have a message from Commissioner Gordon.” A new voice spoke through his comms.

“On my way.” He replied.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” a third voice snapped. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Explain.” Batman demanded.

“So you see…”

-

After the failed attempt at contacting Miguel, you spent a couple of all nighters in advancing your beacon. This time, it would require even more energy but now it won’t cause a potential blackout. But it will notify the bats of your location like last time.

You know you have to be extra fucking careful this time. You might have gotten lucky those days ago in not getting caught, but you know your luck is shit anyways and Batman is one paranoid mother fucker. Him and his wards.

You have to be very cautious in where you go and how you will do this. This new connector is a bit more sturdier than the lightweight one you made before, but this time it also won’t require you to be stuck in one place. Actually, your signal will ping in more than one location. It will bounce off the cell towers and throw a fake location. 

This will certainly tip the scales to your favor in avoidance of detection. Now, you won’t have to rely on your (shit) spider luck! 

All you have to do is to connect it to a phone or computer, and connect that to any service in the area and manually set it off- which you can easily hack. There is only one tiny itty bitty problem. Guessed it yet? No? Well it’s simple, the only problem is- YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE.

You could theoretically use the library computer but with civilians around you is a big major no. You’re also pretty sure the library closes at like 8 or something.

No worries. You have a solution for this baby problem. Is it build one yourself? Pfft- fuck no. You don’t have time to build a phone and even less for a computer, you still have to tweak your god damn watch for fuck sake. So, you’re just going to buy one.

And with what money- I hear you ask. Simple. You’re going to make some. Time to become Spider-woman again.

Only until you have enough for a decent phone- you said. It’ll be easy- you said. Until you were proven wrong.

You spent two days hunting and defeating crooks, webbing the worst ones up, while the not so bad but are making shitty choices were let go (with the promise of hunting them down should they go back to doing bad stuff). Some advice here and there, pickpocketing criminal’s money, you know, the usual shabang.

Can’t forget you’re avoiding all cameras so as to not give yourself away. Though you almost got caught by the police once, haha. You never stick around long enough to get spotted by the bats or the cops.

Until one night, dressed as a normal civilian, you were coming back from a shelter, turning a corner and you were immediately surrounded by a group of thugs wanting to rob you. You literally have nothing, so the only thing they would be robbing is your backpack with extra clothes and your suit. And maybe like two granola bars.

You tried to charm your way out of this situation because first of all, youre fucking tired, two, you don’t have time for baby shit, and three, you’re about to start tweaking. Of course the five men didn’t take your sarcastic remarks lightly and decided that their knives would do the talking.

So you beat them up. All five of them. 60 seconds was all it took. So to recompense wasting a minute of your time, you loot their cash discreetly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well dressed man popped out of nowhere, getting close to you and you warned him you would break his wrist if he touched you- he still came but didn’t touch you. Holding out a black card he presented it to your face.

“You fight well, kid. If you want to make money fast,real money, call me and go here.”

“Um, I’m not a k-”

“You’ll make hundreds.” He cut you off. Rude. ”And if you impress the boss like you did me, you can make more.”

Spider luck?

Oh well that got your attention. Eyes narrowed. “Fast money, how?”

“Did no one ever teach ya about ‘stranger danger’? It’s a fight club, if you will. A tournament if you’re interested.”

Spider luck.

After pondering it for a quick second, here you are, getting a card with a free invite to a ring, probably filled with big, crazy, and most likely wanted criminals, and you get paid to beat them up? Sign me the fuck up. “I’m very interested.” you nod.

The man gave a crooked smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I’m not-” The man walked away and inside a white limo car. Fuck you.

So you went the next day. Making sure you wore your normal clothes, just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and your face mask, you called the guy.

Meeting him was uninteresting, conversations were nothing exciting, just asking you your fighting style, can you take on a big guy, and whatnot. 

Upon entering the place (behind a well known bar) you were led to a ring, two fighters going at it. You watched how one was clearly more experienced than the other, while the other guy was battered and bleeding but still fighting. Blood spraying everywhere with every hit until he hit the ground cold.

It certainly is a sight.

It was that very day that you had your very first fight.

Stepping into the ring with no prep, no bandages, no helmet, nothing, this was a raw fight through and through, you were immediately booed and laughed at. Tough crowd.

Of course you were not going against a stereotypical big muscular guy that looks like he could bench press a tank. No, in fact you were against a young military deserter as your first opponent. Scars and all. Across his neck laid an identification tag (also known as dog tag). Christopher Conner.

The man in front of you sneered, laughing at you. “No way they sent me a kid. I will break all your bones. Don’t start crying too soon.” he cooed.

He taunted you and the crowd loved it. You, on the other hand, were pretty bored and unimpressed. 

“I’m not a kid…” you huffed behind your face mask.

What was able to be seen on your face must have told him that because he didn’t like being ignored. 

So he swung, a clear hit to be a knock out. You swerve.

This time he kicked, you parried.

He did not like that. Soon a game ensued. Hit attacking and you either blocking or dodging. You didn’t even need your spider sense, you got this in the bag, honestly this was quite sad. The crowd went from booing you to insulting Christopher.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Hit the kid!”

“My money’s riding on you dickface!”

“Don’t you dare lose motherfucker, or I’ll shoot you!”

It seems their insults were getting to the man. You on the other hand kinda started to feel bad.

“Stand still you fucker!” Christopher growled, throwing punches.

You scoffed, “My aunt throws faster punches than you Chris.” You can almost taste the bloodlust seeping from his pores. “Hey man, it's been three minutes, surely you can end this, right?”

Chris’s jaw clenched in anger. He was about to explode. A voice called out your name.

“Nada! Stop wasting time and finish it kid. Or you won’t get paid.” What? What a scam! You’re trying to entertain yourself too y’know, guess this will be a way to relieve stress.

Facing the military man you didn’t give him a second to process when you blew him a kiss and then a fist made contact with his chin, effectively knocking him out the second his back hit the ring walls. “I’m not a kid.”

The crowd was silent before chaos broke. Half the crowd booed and threatened the fallen man, while the other half started cheering.

With how unsatisfied most people were, you had to fight three more times. Each time, you won, with no scratches on you (you did pretend to get hit at times for realism). Each victory secures you cheers and hype.

By the end of your last fight, it was dark out and you were walked off by the same man that brought you here. “Good job kid. I know you were the right call.”

“I’m not-” A thick envelope was thrown. Catching it, you opened it up to find money, lots of money. “Woah.”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Like it? You can make more the more you win.”

Still entrance by the stack of green you nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.” The man walked off and you stared at the money.

“Booyah baby!”

You bought a phone the next morning.

And so it’s been five days since then. You weren’t in a desperate need for money anymore, so you cut your fights down from five to two a day. You still needed time to continue fixing your beacon. Spider-woman sightings have also significantly decreased the more you noticed the increase in security.

You were not taking any chances.

Walking towards the somewhat empty bar, you greeted the bouncer and headed inside to an ‘employees only’ door to meet the guy in the suit. He did tell you his name, but you call him ‘Suit’ in your head regardless. 

“Hey there Nada,” He hears a sigh from behind the mask. “Listen, kid, you’re one of my best fighters, but I need you to lay low for a while. Here.”

Catching a burner phone you tilt your head for an explanation, pocketing it. “Cops?”

“Worse.” he sighs, slicking his hair back. “Bats.”

Fucking spider luck.

Like a bucket of ice and cold water was dumped on you, blood turning cold. You froze in terror. You should have guessed that a hidden fighting ring would not be kept hidden for long. The criminals that you fought and were downright nasty, you made sure they were caught outside and far away from this location. 

And it was random from a list you composed. Enough to make sure you weren’t a suspect. But fuck now you have to erase your presense here. You’re a nobody, Nada, nothing. Guess it really is time to lay lower than low, like a ghost. “I won’t come back then.” Voice serious and cold.

He laughed, pulling out an envelope from his suit's inner pocket. “S’that so?” Handing it out for you to take, his eyes burn into yours. “Then I’ll just have ta hunt you down, kid.”

Taking the envelope (it felt thicker and heavier than usual) and placing it in your pocket you chuckled, cold, fake, calculating. “Try. I’m good at hiding.” Walking away, hands in pocket, feeling both the envelope and the burner phone, turning your body to avoid bumping into a familiar guy speed walking in. “I’m not a kid…” you mumbled to yourself.

You didn’t bother glancing at the man you dubbed ‘Suit’, real name Jacob Sullivan Jones. It seems it’s time for JSJ to have a run in with the Gotham City Police Department. 

It is truly fortunate that Jacob doesn’t know where you're staying. Although he might not know about the warehouse inside the junkyard, he does know you are not a resident with no permanent home. He had stalked you for a bit after the first meeting (the bouncer was so easy to spot really), believing you’re homeless, alone, and a nobody (someone who nobody would miss or look for). You’re using that (somewhat of a mis)information to your advantage.

Leaving the desolate bar, thoughts consumed by the written list of criminals you drafted and plan to anonymously give it to the GCPD. How you got the other criminals caught was simple, you always used a payphone and gave anonymous tips. That won’t work here. At least not fully. Knowing the corruption, maybe you should hand it to the one of the cops you know isn’t corrupt.

Now, do you hack the police and email it? Print it/fax it and send it? Or hand it directly but as spider-woman? Well for starters, the second option is garbage because if the right person doesn’t see it first, it will just get covered up. Hacking into the GCPD and emailing it directly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, the only issue is, if they decided to forward that information to the bats, you’re fucked because then you know they’ll dig in and somehow find out about you.

It seems like going in as Spider-woman is the best bet, but then again, the bats are real close, too close for comfort. Should you take the risk? But if you don’t turn these criminals in, it will stay in your consciousness of letting innocents down. Guess you have to suck it up and do it then.

“This sucks” you mumbled, deep in thought. 

Suddenly you felt your body freeze. Feeling your spider sense go haywire, you looked up and hard swerved to the side, avoiding bumping into a stranger.

It seemed that your sudden change in direction caught the stranger’s attention and the person next to him, both heads snapped towards you.

Hands out of pocket awkwardly waving in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Taking a look at the one you almost bumped into, he is tall, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes.

Taking note of your embarrassment the stranger chuckles, looking into your eyes, “No worries! Nice reflexes though!”

The stranger’s partner scowled in your direction and you could feel his eyes burning you alive. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” Venom.

“Don’t be rude, Dame.”

“Don’t call me that. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Alrighty then, guess it’s time to fuck off. “Yes, thank you- again, so sorry.” You don’t even spare the other guy a glance, quickly scurrying off. Your spider sense hasn’t shut off and you don’t like where this is going. “Good bye.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.”

Not turning back, you quickened to a brisk walk away from this nauseating area. This whole goddamn experience is so nauseating. You just wanted to go home. Was that soooooo much to ask? Regardless, you did not want to know what those strangers wanted, and you were taught ‘stranger danger’ and it certainly applied here.

After a certain distance later, your senses dulled into a small buzz as you turned a corner and entered the public library. Taking your usual empty seat, you let out a deep sigh. This was what you were used to since coming into this world. Since being yoinked from another dimension and plopped in this universe, your senses never really shut off. It was like everything in this world was a danger, and it only spiked when reacting to blood lust, danger of a certain radius, and people who are incredibly strong. 

Recalling that one stranger, who looked too innocent enough for it to be bloodlust, just that their presence caught you so off guard. But your senses screamed at you, and it terrified you to an extent. This is why you can never really relax being here, even when you’re alone in the warehouse, you just feel so out of place, and in danger constantly. It was beginning to eat you up honestly.

You miss your innocent youthful days. God you sound old. But you really do miss having a home to go back to. A home where once you step inside, it’s warm, and two people would always greet you like a warm embrace.

Now it’s cold and desolate, barely anything inside, empty and lonely.

But now, you can’t even go there anymore. Even if it was painful to live in the same home that had more members, then reduced to just you, it was still home. 

You can’t even go home.

Remembering the words Jacob Sullivan Jones spoke to you earlier, you fish out the envelope. Taking note of the weight, it was decided to open it and find more than usual.

Picking up a small zip-lock bag, your eyes widened. It was an ID, an ID and a passport. Just what the fuck was Jacob going to do with giving you this? Why did he make this for you? What were his plans? No, you can’t think about that. This is a blessing for sure, and you’ll take it- but, you have to put Jacob in prison. Now.

This is a gift and you know that with criminals, all gifts are never for free. This is a ‘you owe me’ gift. “Fuck, this sucks.” You just want a moment of peace.

Think, you have to think. Now you have an identification, but, you don’t know if you’re in the system, since once again, incase you forgot, you don’t fucking exist here. Whatever Jacob was thinking, you definitely don’t want a part of it. You’re going to put a stop to this now.

Though, recalling the two strangers earlier, you don’t bother with the rude one of the two, more focused on the one with blue eyes. Something about him just stuck out to you. He looked vaguely familiar.

Okay, let’s take this from the top. You felt a strong sense of precaution, thus causing your spider sense to alert you. Your sense only went away when you were a considerable distance away from those two, so you know it’s about the strangers. Bases covered, perfect. What’s next?

 You only really focused on the one who you almost touched, so let’s continue from there. He is tall, a welldefine body, black hair, and vibrant blue eyes. That’s all you remember seeing now for what you heard. His friend/partner/acquaintance/fellow party member said ‘Kent’, this could be his name or surname but the name ‘Kent’ makes your throat clogged. You only know of another Kent and it’s a superhero.

It couldn’t be…right? 

Turning the computer on, you started typing away, fingers trembling, heart thumping loudly, head spinning, and body sweating. Please, please, please, be wrong. You prayed.

The window search lands on a somewhat recent news. Superman and Superboy save hundreds during bridge collapse! By Lois Lane Kent.

In the photo, on the front page was a scene, both Superman and Superboy. The older one was holding a piece of a bridge while the other younger one was using his heat vision. This was Superman’s son. And you came into contact with him.

You were royally fucking screwed.

Fuck- fuck! No, no nono! 

All the anxiety you tried to lock away came like a tsunami. You were reminded of how small you are in this world. How easy it is to find trouble even without looking. You wanted no part in this world but it seems the gods wanted to fuck you over and over again. 

And, as much as you wanted to curse out the Spot for yeeting you far faaaaaaar from your universe, you only blame yourself for latching onto him and getting lost on the way to his next destination.

God this sucks! You wanted to curl up and cry, but you can’t. You’re a big girl and so, you’ll deal with this fuckery later. After all, your best trait was putting your issues to the side and focusing on the bigger picture. This- meeting Superman’s son can wait. After all, you haven’t run into any bats besides Signal- yes you researched him when you had free time (you only knew of him but not really who he was), so for now, your spider luck has been blessing you thus far.

You need to focus on the bigger picture, getting Jacob and the other criminals caught.

Getting to work, you begin to type away your list that you memorized, the location of the bar, the owner of the bar was still a mystery but the one who runs it is Jacob, schedule of the bouncer shifts, and the names and alias of those who you encountered as well as the situation of misguided teens. You type it all, making sure to keep your real and fake identity out, you did put in your alias Nada, as a picked up street kid. Enough for it to be a ‘misguided’ teen situation but not enough to catch someone’s attention unless they were looking for it.

Now that you know you ran into Clark Kent’s son (a deduction), you know you can’t risk encountering him as spider-woman. Knowing that Superman can (somehow) memorize and identify someone based on their heart beat or whatever, so fuck no are you going to parade as spider-woman any time soon.

You swear to god that you will do everything you can to avoid meeting them in both their civilian personas and alter egos.

Calming yourself, you get ready to hack the GCPD, and leave a message.

‘They know. Scatter.’ 

It hits you. The epiphany of why Jacob had an ID and passport made for you. They were moving locations. Abandoning fort, and taking anyone who they wanted. Basically a trafficking ring for those who weren’t onboard, and a new opportunity for those who they saw potential in. 

Shit, you should have stopped this when Jacob found you, but you didn’t know anything then. Now it could be too late. But Jacob did say to lay low, so they’re mostly biding their time. Probably erasing, hiding, and misplacing real and fake evidence.

They need to get exposed now, ‘strike while the iron is hot’ as the saying goes. 

It seems like it’s time to meet the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, James “Jim” Gordon, as Spider-woman. How fun… 

Way to contratic your fucking promise so soon. Well, at least it’s a civilian and not a hero/vigilante. “This fucking sucks.”

-

Damian scoffed when Tim wanted to force his father the Batman into his lead. It’s not that he doesn’t want his father, it’s just this is an undercover sort of situation. He got a lead when he went to interrogate a pathetic military criminal. He can handle this mission on his own.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” Damian heard Jon chuckle, most likely overhearing this conversation with his super hearing. What a nuisance.  “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Well that was something. So, what’s the plan that you didn’t want Lizzie to be involved in?”

“Focus, Jon.” Damian explained their stakeout first, before going to don their costumes. Deep in their conversation, Damian caught sight of one of the suspects speed walking past them. He brings this to Jon’s attention. “It's him, the mercenary Christopher Conner.”

“Okay, so this bar is the place. Let me check real quick.” Using his vision, Jon’s eyebrow furrows. “Next door is styled like a wrestling ring, only two exits. From here and from an office. This is the place.”

“Then we’ll change and apprehend the criminal. Watch and hear what he is saying.” Jon followed Damian’s lead when someone jumped out of his way like he was burning them, causing Damian to also turn his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Despite the mask covering their mouth, their voice of this buffoon sounded androgynous, their clothes didn’t help to differentiate a gender either. But what he can see were this stranger’s eyes, and he can’t look away.

It seems neither can Jon as he chuckles and waves off the encounter. “No worries! Nice reflexes though!” Jon makes it very obvious he’s staring hard.

Just what is it about this total insignificant stranger that caught Damian’s undivided attention? From what he can see, they look normal (can’t really tell with that face mask though), but there is just something that has him unable to take his eyes off of them.

Jon has the same issue, and Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowls. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” 

Jon, without breaking eye contact, scolds Damina. “Don’t be rude, Dame.”

Snapping out of this trance, he snaps back,” Don’t call me that.” That’s right, they are on a mission, no distractions allowed. “We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Jon looks at Damian, as he too, regains his focus, eyes staring into each other as if communicating, he nods. They can come back to this after they finish their assignment. 

“Yes, thank you- again, so sorry. Good bye.” The stranger quickly scurried off.

Caught off guard Jon impulsively extended his arm out to grab their shoulder. “Hey wait a minute!” 

Damian acted faster, grabbing Jon’s arm. “What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.” Pointing towards the bar with his head. This isn’t good, they’re getting sidetracked.

Jon didn’t turn to look at Damian, no he was still staring at the stranger. “I just wanted to ask…” He trailed off as he strained his ears, focusing on their heartbeat, their breathing patterns, anything he could to commit to memory. “For their name.”

Damian, too, side glanced at the retreating figure, dissecting the way they moved, their tensed shoulders, everything until they were out of sight.

Jon wanted to ask their name. Was that weird? Their situation didn’t require him to ask their name. How would he even go about it, ‘Sorry for almost bumping into you, hey can I ask for your name?’ Yea, no.

“Damian, I-” Jon began before getting caught off.

“I know. We’ll deal with that later,” His eyes narrow, glancing at the bar. “Focus.” But he too was entranced. But he was much better at pushing that to the side, but he knows he won’t be able to hold it off for now. The best he can do is rein in Jon’s attention to the assignment.

Moving to a cafe nearby with a good view of the bar’s entrance, they ordered some drinks. This wasn’t Damians idea but he’ll let Jon have his way for cooperating.

Jon nodded, getting back into focus, using his super hearing to overhear the conversation inside the bar.

His stomach tingles at the thought of asking the stranger for their name.

Hand discreetly on his year Damian spoke, “Drake, look into the time of now and send it over to me.”

“Hey- wait-” Tim was caught off guard, “What’s this about? I thought you didn’t ‘require assistance’ for this.” He teased. 

“I don’t.” He shut the comms off. Now, back to work. “What’s going on Jon?”

“This is our guy. He’s getting assigned to deliver a package. This is serious. He’s upset.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Tt. Follow.”

Jon tunes into the conversation again.

“The police aren’t the issue. It’s the costumes that have been spotted close. We already lost a couple of our men to the cops.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious? We have a traitor!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Chris? Ever since Sebastian was caught by the fucking commissioner, the others have been getting caught like flies here in Gotham. He’s spilling, so I need to silence him.” 

“The usual?”

“No, not you this time. We’re leaving so I need you to focus on one more thing.”

“Is it about them, the one you want to recruit?”

“Yes, I want them-” a phone rang interrupting the conversation. “It’s the boss. Dismissed, I’ll send ya the rest later.”

“Understood sir. I’ll deliver the packages tonight.” The mercenary walked off, no longer as upset as earlier.

Jon, processing the information, becomes visibly upset. “They’re recruiting, and based on the conversation, it's the runaway and homeless teens that have been reported by the shelters. This is bigger than just Gotham. I think they’re leaving, moving somewhere else.”

“Let’s follow.” Damian’s attention was caught at the mercenary leaving the bar. “There.”

“The guy he was talking to said he would ‘send the rest later’, I think it will be on his phone.” Jon informed.

Damian absorbed the information. “We’ll follow and catch him red handed.”

“What about ‘the package’?” Jon questioned.

“What about them? I’ll forward the intel to the rest. We focus on this guy. The evidence on his phone is all we need.”

“Dame, I can’t with good conscience leave those vulnerable kids on their own.” Stressed Jon.

“And we’re not. The others will take care of it.” Damian replied. “When we apprehend the mercenary, acquire the intel, we go after this guy while the others detain their accomplices and rescue the runaways. They will all fall tonight, Jon, so focus.”

Jonathan Kent wanted to bite back, but he knows Damian ran this plan at least three times before bringing him along. Damian is just that strategic. And he places his full trust in him, god does this leave him unsatisfied. He knows those kids are trapped somewhere and if taking this mercenary and the manager from the bar out gets them safe faster, then he will do as he is told.

Something just feels out of place, this has been too easy so far. “Alright, he’s heading north.”

Damian nods, slipping away to change into his suit.

As if connected, Damian as well feels like things have been progressing smoothly. And when it comes to crimes committed in Gotham, when things are going good, then something isn’t right.

Ever since the first the GCPD have been arresting some low and decent levels of this new crime syndicate, news of some human trafficking organizations have been slowly getting uncovered as if by overnight. It started around five days ago, low level members were caught, and just two days ago, a higher member was arrested.

Ever since his father the Batman (he tagged along) interrogated him, he spilled like a waterfall. Since they have been cracking down on the case, they know this criminal organization is trying to get on the levels of Black Mask or The Penguin.

The only issue is, this was only exclusive to Gotham, now based on what Jon relay to him, this is just a small base, there are others. He refuses to let this go on any further. Not to his city, or his people. Yet, there is this itch in the back of his head. These captures were by far too easy, and these people aren’t sloppy. No, they had been operating for some time, and yet they were getting caught like moths to a flame due to anonymous tips being called in. Someone out there is deliberately getting these scumbags caught.

And Batman believes it could possibly have a connection to the other pressing issue that’s consuming his thought. There has to be a connection to the quantum disturbance from a little over a week ago. It’s just too coincidental for it not to be. 

Something is happening in Gotham, and he will get to the bottom of this.

-

You know, people say to plan for everything, thus making Batman a force to be reckoned with since he is the master of having contingency plans and backup plans for those backup plans. And yet, here you are, with a plan and life just wants to fuck you over and expects you to just deal with it.

No.

After coming up with spider-woman handing the commissioner Jim Gordon a list of criminals and misguided teens, you just needed to go and change. But here you are, running into a situation if you will. 

You see, after running away from Superman's son, and a printed list folded neatly in your pocket as you head ‘home’, you started to feel the icky sensation of being watched. Years of experience and knowing how not to tip off that you know, you head away from your place of operations and head up north. 

Though despite not giving signs of how utterly fucking tense and anxious you are, you rationalize that it can not be any of the birds because you haven’t done anything suspicious. That, and the fact that your spider sense isn’t screaming at you of danger so for now, that’s calming you down.

On the other hand, you still have no clue who is following you. It was like, thirty minutes since running into the super, and no call from the burner phone. This whole ‘being followed’ is a fucking nuisance, putting a wrench in your plans. 

The only good thing is that, since you are technically surrounded by civilians walking about, they can’t really do anything to you, unless they want to cause panic amongst the innocents. Though, that wouldn’t stop someone from shooting you if they wanted you dead. 

Still, regardless if you are wanted dead (highly unlikely) or alive (for whatever reason) you don’t want to lead innocent civilians into this, so away you go! Informing Jim Gordon can wait (not it can’t), you’ll lose your pursuer and then catch them!

Turning a corner, into alleyways, zig zagging, you hear their footsteps pick up. Persistent.

While running away, you form theories. We crossed out the batsonas, you haven’t done or got caught with anything to be on their radar afterall, it can’t be a random crook because for one, you look poor too, and second, they’re chasing you for a reason. Another idea was maybe it has something to do with Jacob. But that doesn’t make much sense since you just got a burner phone. 

Something just isn’t adding up. 

Your spider sense spiked as you turned down a corner. Despite this, you kept going straight, ready to take on whoever was going to appear in front of you. 

With a very good distance between you and your pursuer you took this chance to discard your mask and sweatshirt (thank god for having a tank top) ontop of a parked motorcycle as you turned another corner, there stood a man near the end of the alleyway, tall and (once again) wellbuilt, with black hair just standing there, phone in hand.

Quickly you jogged towards him (he glanced your way) and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Sorry, please play along!” you whispered and pulled him.

The stranger only had one second to figure out what was happening. In that split second though, he heard a plea for help. The next thing he knew, he had his free hand on the wall above your head while the other one was moved to your waist. Back towards the wall and having his big frame engulf yours, you let his arm go and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him towards your face. 

It's only then that you take in his appearance, handsome from what you can see, and your heart dropped. “I’m being followed,” you muttered, noticing the stranger’s eyes roam your face before settling on your eyes. “I don’t know who they are.”

The man in front of you nodded, kept in place as footsteps hastily turned the corner, running past the both of you. Your body tensed up watching the hooded figure stop at the end of the alleyway. Taking the chance to observe the guy, he pulled out a phone while looking both ways before exiting from your view.

While you were distracted the stranger in front of you pulled back, making your release your hold. He was quiet. “Once again, I’m so sorry! Thank you!” You nervously backed away, in the opposite direction your pursuer went.

He grunted, watching you walk back away. He opened his mouth to speak but the phone in his hand began to ring. He glanced down at the caller before looking back up. 

You were already gone, picking up your sweatshirt and mask, donning them on and running away. Your heart was pounding so loud, it rang in your ear. That was Jason mother fucking Todd. You ran into the Red Hood. What the fuck was he doing in the Narrows?!

Recalling the words Jacob spoke earlier, it echoed through your head. ‘Bats.’ That’s right. The fucking bats are intown, and this was too close for comfort. This sucks balls!

“Focus, focus. Officer Gordon, here I come.” To the junkyard you go.

-

Jason watched the very pretty woman leave him with his thoughts. Getting pulled into caging someone against a back alley wall was not in his cards today, but with Gotham, one always has to expect the unexpected. 

Speaking of the unexpected, he let himself momentarily get distracted recalling the bold stranger from earlier. Something about this woman, rendered him quiet. But at the same time, he took note of just how anxious she was. Tensed body, eyebrows furrowed, worried expression, scared eyes, and over all the way she held onto him while losing her pursuer. He wondered just what kind of trouble found her. It seems crime really doesn’t stop during the daylight.

He committed her face to memory, and will touch upon her situation once he finished his current assignment. 

“You still there?” the voice spoke from his phone.

“Yea, I’m still here. I’m in the Narrows, following the lead.”

“Good, while Damian follows the mercenary, you got the manager. I’m seeing some suspicious moments. Turn on your commlink, Bruce is already moody as he is.”

“When isn’t he like that.” Jason rolled his eyes as he walked back to his bike that he parked further in the alley. Before taking off, he glanced in the direction the stranger went. Her actions and the sound of her voice repeated inside his mind like an echo, burning itself in his memory.

Prev; Next;

I realized everything I wanted for this chapter did not happen. So now it's split into two parts- oops. Side note, this will not be a yandere series, though I do think they get 'possessive' sure, not yandere though. I finally know how I am going to end the Act, the issue is the in between that I struggle with.

Yay, you met Jon and Jason. Next up are Cass, Steph, Dick, and Tim the only ones left.

Web Bound Secret Corner!

Spider-Woman had an eidetic memory.

Spider-Woman does not know about the trafficked kids.

Spider-Woman did not notice Damian.

If Spider-Woman had to choose between saving a life and going home, she'd save the life.

Spider-Woman's is bad at grieving and worse with failure.

[spotsandsocks]

Buck Vs. the 'tache

The moustache is… it’s just so… that’s the trouble Buck has no idea what word finishes that sentence but he does know that he can’t stop looking at it

Welcome to the inner turmoil of Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley’s head following Eddie’s questionable facial hair choices.

Buck is not a fan… except…. maybe he is?

999 words rated Teen for some swearing

This fun and silly little ficlet is to celebrate my 3 year writing anniversary and will get me to a nice round 1 million words (94 fics)

I have mixed and confusing feelings about the moustache myself so I gave them to Buck to deal with. Hope you enjoy 🥸

Spoiler alert - the moustache won 🏅

Conflicted.

That’s a good word for it.

Conflicted, but strangely intrigued, he’s compelled to keep looking at it.

That’s the trouble, he keeps looking at it. Can’t help himself.

Looking and looking.

Probably because it’s new.

Yeah, that’s why, because “it” had certainly been a shock.

Unexpected, very unexpected, completely out of the blue, no time to prepare, no time to adjust.

One day it was just there; being weird, looking ridiculous.

It is ridiculous; an anachronistic, 70s throwback tragedy of facial hair, or maybe it should be 80s. Chim had said something about Magnum whoever that was. He keeps meaning to check but it keeps distracting him. 

Anyway, it’s awful. 

Awfully fascinating.

He keeps looking.

It’s ridiculous, it’s an eyesore… it’s eye catching.

Conflicted, that’s the word because despite ridiculous and weird, despite the shock and the teasing from everyone else when he looks at it he feels….

Something. 

Head to ao3 for the rest

[slyandthefamilybook]

What is the Accountability Archive?

(I was gonna make this an addition to another post but OP turned off reblogs while I was halfway through my deep dive so I'm making my own)

With any activism (or something trying to pass itself off as activism), especially list-making like this site, the most important question to ask is "why". What is the purpose? What do they hope to accomplish? How will this data be used?

The answer is......eh? The list is being compiled so that possibly someday some future historian might maybe think about wanting to form a committee to explore the possibility of..."understanding how 'power holders' manufacture consent". These power holders are, of course, politicians, but also journalists?, and "public figures", which is an extremely vague term. Am I a public figure? I certainly make my opinions public. So when these future researchers want to understand the nature of the current conflict, they won't need to look at the history of the region, the contemporary local politics as well as the international stage, and the personalities of the specific people involved. They'll just check out this eyesore of a website to find proof that slyandthefamilybook supports genocide. And future lawyers will be able to use this incontrovertible evidence to...sorry, to prosecute war crimes?????? Sorry, I couldn't help but laugh at that one. Well if I am on there it shouldn't be too hard to check. Surely a site called the "Accountability Archive" believes in transparency

Oh. Well. I'm sure if you pass their screening process they'll respond promptly from their encrypted archive-less email and definitely give you access. But don't worry. They have a "vision" of one day making this public. When are we the people going to be able to see the info? I want the juicy deets on who is and isn't a Zionist!

So, sometime in the future. Maybe. Probably. Well what kind of info are they collecting anyway?

Alright, seems normal so far. I appreciate that when talking about targeting of civilian populations or infrastructure they've remained impartial. I submitted a page from the ADL cataloguing US professors who celebrated Hamas' pogrom on 10/7. I will let you know how or if they respond

One thing I've noticed is the distinctly European spelling of some words like "dehumanisation" and "analyse". So who are these people even? They must have pictures, or names, or evidence of their bona fides. They claim to be "middle east experts" [sic] so surely they'll link articles they've written, or talk about degrees or accolades they've received. Something, anything to let us know that they're real serious people who know what they're talking about

Well that's......I mean that's not even an answer. You don't answer the question of "who are we" with "this is the purpose of our website". They have a Twitter, which despite being made in October 2023 (huh. weird) only made its first post in February 2024

The site itself went live on November 22, 2023, but according to Google was only certified as of 9 days ago

I'm not going to try to dig into who potentially runs the account. I don't want to doxx anyone. But this should give you an overview of what this site is and why you definitely shouldn't use it

[kenyukisser]

broken compass ; SATORU G.

in which : Satoru's a selfish man, so why can't he take your absence well?

It’s not like he was ashamed of it, he was rather aware. GOJO SATORU knew of his heart filled with greed, arrogance, words he’d probably have a hard time spelling. The same heart who loved you, and probably the same beating pulse who lost you.

“I told you so.” Suguru snickered, glancing over at Satoru whose arrogant façade and shit-eating grin was long gone the moment his messages were going green, you weren’t receiving them. And here he thought you loved receiving his messages every 2 minutes? 3 hours? Nah, it’s probably been a month since he’s replied to your previous message.

You: hey ‘toru, happy monthsary :) 9/27/2016 You: Satoru??                                     9/28/2016 Satoru: yeah? (!)                             11/1/2016

“God damn it” he groaned, and Satoru is…well, Satoru. In an attempt to test his luck, he texted once more. And to no surprise, it didn’t send either.

He wasn’t the only set of eyes who watched the messages turn an eyesore neon color of green, the raven-haired man sat next to him, a small grin tugging on his lips as he contained a laugh. A polar opposite in contrast to the white-haired man next to him.

“She was g’na leave anyways” Suguru shrugged, nudging Satoru in the shoulder. In his attempt to light the mood. In which Satoru’s frown deepened.

“Just find another one” Suguru spoke once more, the silent unsettling him. Despite being friends for the longest of times, it’s only now Suguru has acknowledged him in this current state. If anything, Gojo would’ve been crying to his flings about God knows what

“No, ya don’t get it” The man with covered eyes spoke, his glasses dangling off his nose as he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, as Suguru objects to his statement.

“there’s other girls—”

“But I want her.”

And with that exclamation, the room fell silent. Leaving Suguru in disbelief, and Satoru with his head down to the palms of his hand. Even the strongest has his flaws, his emotions.

On the other hand, you’ve moved on... surprisingly! A part of you misses Satoru, more than you’d like to admit. Or would you even admit that at all?

He ghosted you, tormented you for the whole year. Probably ruined and brought a piece of you home with him. And for him to not bring you as a whole made it worse for you.

But in his conscience, loving you was easy, getting along with you was easier, losing you was dramatically ironic.

And finding you amidst of the crowd is like a muscle memory from him.

So, when his fingers tugged on the air, fiddling and practically grasping onto nothing. He wasn’t surprised, he never will be. Loving you was a muscle memory, a mental memory. Literally.

His fingers fidgeting with the hem of the pocket of his pants as his eyes pierce through the huge crowd. Knowing Satoru, he’d find you all the time amidst the crowd. That’s what you loved about him.

There’re two problems about that though, Keyword: Love and Newsflash—Satoru find’s that word an understatement, despite not knowing the word completely.

So, when he’s left with the huge crowd in the train station. It’s his own man vs society moment, his gaze ever shifting almost everywhere to find you. Hell, he doesn’t care anymore. pushing the people aside, none of them matter anyways. He’d argue if asked, because despite the people itching to get Gojo to spare a glance at them, his eyes were always set on you.

It didn’t take him long, which was surprising. Considering that it took him longer to find you than to reply to all those messages you sent back then.

He found you, you found him. despite the crowd, the tension was frightening, it screamed Satoru. Suspenseful, awkward, and cruel.

So, you turned on your heel, walking the other direction in an attempt to ignore the pair of eyes piercing through you.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” he spoke, it was loud, and loud it was. His voice like a ringing melody…on a Monday morning.

“Like what, Gojo?” You murmured to yourself, but he heard it like your voice was his only source of blood flow, the only reason his pulse would beat. And at this moment, maybe it was.

“Like I’m not here trying to say I’m fucking sorry.”

Truth be told, he loved you more than anything. Missed seeing you when he woke up, missed you being the first thing he saw when he unlocked his apartment at the evening, miss the way your hair flowed and tangled with his white hair whilst you were fast asleep. You were like an artifact, and he wasn’t the type to listen to his 7th grade social studies lectures. Because he realized. Not the other girls, not one of his girls yesterday. You. It was you.

A confused expression lighted up on your face, the same face which used to gush over his antics. God, he’s not good for your health. God bless you for having it in you to look him in the eye.

“Look—im sorry for…” His words got caught up in his throat, this was no God. This wasn’t a sorcerer who deserved the title of ‘the strongest.’ This was the emotion crisis of a god.

“Forget about it, move on.” You cut him off, your voice raising slightly as you spoke, quickening the pace of your steps.

“Hey wait, I didn’t tell you how...”

How I still think of you every night. How the moon reflects on your beauty, yet it’s telling me you’ve moved on

“I said forget about it.” You exclaimed, and it was as if a large dimension of osmium was lifted off your shoulders.

You’d like to think he was the osmium that burdened your shoulders; remarkably toxic, unhealthy and he felt like a dagger of knives clinging onto you bare.

Could you really fault him for discovering love? After all, who wouldn’t love you? You were so simple, yet complicated, comforting yet intoxicating. It made his head spin. He knows you’re convinced you’re just a mere nuisance to him. but in his perspective, you’re much more than he’s willing to admit.

But he’s going to admit all of that. When he sees you again.

But that interaction alone led you to Shoko’s headquarters, a frown on your face as she listened to you talk about your encounter.

“Men really are something.” Shoko hummed, eyes glimmering in disdain as she saw how much Satoru affected you. She wasn’t looking down on you at the slightest, she felt pure disgust over Satoru’s antics. But she can’t say she was surprised.

“I know.” You grumbled, your head resting against your knees as you spoke.

“Any chance you two would get back together?” Shoko broached about something rather sensitive, but you could never uninterest the doctor.

“..no, ‘m done.” You hurriedly replied, not bothering to elaborate any further, she can see why.

“don’t cry like that, if Satoru saw that he’d put you in an album cover for some song.”

“Shoko!”

12/23/16;

And it’s been a few days since you see Satoru, seen Shoko. Hell, have seen anyone. Working as a transcriptionist pays you well, and you don’t even have to go outside. It’s like a miracle.

But within the few days, you’ve always received flowers by your door.

“who’s this from?” you inquire, glancing up at the delivery man who seems just as clueless as you.

“..sorry ma’am, I actually don’t know.” He shrugs, flashing on a sheepish smile as his gaze fell down to the bouquet on your hand, a bouquet full of roses, with azure aster on the side, the pretty shade of blue standing out as much as the roses. No wonder they were called blue devils.

…?

It was in the name, maybe you knew who it was from.

And it went on for a few days, which turned into weeks and ranged into months. It was a draining experience.

Everyday it was a different flower, it got prettier by the day. Although, nothing from him came pretty.

and it was getting to the point where all the shelves in your apartment were filled with flowers, from pretty red roses to lilies who still look as lively as ever.

Maybe Satoru did it on purpose, you weren’t like Satoru. You let living things grow to its fullest extent. He left things to rot and die.

He wasn’t going to let you rot anymore, not even leave another scar on you at the slightest.

You haven’t received flowers from him this week. You’ve had enough, and maybe he has too, maybe you guys just need closure. You weren’t even sure if it was in a good way or not. Fumbling to get your phone from the nightstand as you unblocked his number.

And that was probably the worst thing you’ve done.

multiple messages flooded your phone, it was all from him. He’s been texting you all the while you’ve been ignoring him.

Satoru: miss ya                                   11/04/16 Satoru: do you like roses?                11/17/16 Satoru: 11:11pm                              11/27/16 Satoru: I can’t seem to leave you alone 12/04/16 Satoru: what do ya want for xmas       12/09/16

It’s just everything you’d expect from Satoru. Texts laced with bitter genuineness. His love is inhospitable—…what are those last few?

Satoru: last message, I’ll leave you alone. Sorry for seizing the opportunity when I lost it, can ya blame me for falling in love with you?           12/23/16 Satoru: actually no, not last message. I just miss you so fucking much. 12/23/16

What does Satoru know about love? You thought to yourself. In fairness he knew how to woo women, hit them in the right spots. But he never knew how to love them genuinely. Something he was willing to learn within your guidance.

Satoru on the other hand who’s been panicking on the fact all his undelivered messages suddenly sent, he’s sulking and pacing back and forth because –what the fuck???

Yet a small glimpse of hope was shining upon his eyes, maybe you wanted to talk?

You:???                                               12/23/16

Yeah, never mind. All that hope is shattered, clinking like glass onto the floor. He’s afraid to walk over it, because he’d be walking on you.

You: I miss you too                            12/23/16

and that was all he needed, a few simple words and with a snap of his finger. He hauled himself into your apartment complex.

“ya miss me?” he hummed, and for the first time in months. An actual grin plastered his face. He’s disheveled, messy, not in his best state. He wants you.

“maybe.” You shrugged, tracing your marble countertop as you waited for the pan to heat up, not bothering to face him.

God, were you the prettiest. He’d swallow his pride all over again to see that pretty smile dangling off your face. His blue eyes shined with determination as he approached.

And once he got a close-up view of you, he pulled you in from behind, a soft and alluring embrace. The hard callous palm of his hand finding yours easily. He’s warm and love embraces him as much as it embraces you, in contrast to the dickhead he was a few months ago.

“I miss this, miss you.” He murmured as he buried himself on your shoulder.

“Miss the mornings where I’d see you cooking something. Or when it’s late at night and we can’t sleep so you talk about your day till you whine about being sleepy.” He thought to himself.

“..miss you too,’toru.” You spoke, and for the first time in forever. He sighed out a breathe that he didn’t even know he was holding. Like you were his source of living and he could finally bloom within your presence.

“I’m ready to try again, are you?” he whispered, his blue eyes peeking up at you from your shoulder, causing you to steal a few glances at his pretty face.

“I’m ready, as long as it’s with you.”

took me awhile but here we are bc i miss u guys><

[villain-sympathizer]

For you, what if (au) sir night eye survives, but he can’t do a lot of serious hero work due to is injuries.

So you can think is either some domestic fluff scenarios or maybe some, spices once perhap?

YES THANK YOU sorry this took so long, i worked on this in bits over the summer since i wanted to relax (plus i was rarely at my laptop to write anyway lmao)

i was going to make this smutty but i felt burnt out so its just hurt/comfort fluff!

────── ･ ｡ﾟ: .☽ . : ｡ﾟ･ ──────

Reduced

[Survived AU; Nighteye x Reader/Significant other]

[Contents: Hurt/comfort, body image issues, descriptions of scars and amputated limbs]

────── ･ ｡ﾟ: .☽ . : ｡ﾟ･ ──────

Mirai was never insecure over anything about his appearance, at least not anything the public would criticize him about. Not his hair, not his wrinkles, nor his abnormally long neck, not even his permanent resting-bitch-face. Really, the only thing he was at least a little concerned about was how cold he’d come off as to others, and luckily he’d been getting better at that. Mirai never cared how he looked, as long as he was clean and professional about his appearance.

At least, that was the case. Then the Hassaikai raid happened.

As blessed as he is to even be alive, to watch the world laugh and to be able to smile back at them, he can’t deny that the injuries to his body were… quite the eyesore. 

Despite being fitted with a new bionic arm to replace the one that needed to be amputated, he still had to take it off at night to sleep, causing him to stand there in the mirror and stare at the scars. Scars that weren’t just on what was left of his arm, but a giant, discolored one on both his front and back abdomen that warped the skin in crooked patterns. His partner joked lightly about it with him, saying that he matched All Might now, making him a true number one fan; and as amusing and ironic as Mirai found that, it still never lessened the lingering disgust he felt looking at the damage done to his body.

“You’re feeling insecure about it again, Mir, aren’t you?” His partner, [Name], spoke up as they closed the door to their shared bedroom, making Mirai jolt slightly in surprise. He must have forgotten to close the bathroom door before getting ready for bed, and they caught him staring at his body in the mirror after he finished brushing his teeth.

With a small sigh, Mirai pulled himself out of his thoughts and began placing his stuff back in the cabinet, bionic arm whirring softly each time his elbow joint moved. “No, just… lost in thought, is all,” he responds. It wasn’t a total lie, since he was technically thinking deeply on things - it’s just they also happened to be about his scars. 

There was the soft padding of feet across the hardwood floor, disrupted only briefly then they must have walked over the rug by the bed, before Mirai saw his spouse appear in the mirror next to him. “Does it ache today? I can go get your meds,” they offered, placing a reassuring hand on his right, non-injured shoulder.

“No, I’ve been surprisingly fine this week,” Mirai says as he closes the cabinet gazing at [Name] through the mirror, a small, relaxed smile on his face. They really have been such a help during his healing and his adjustment to living without an arm. While Mirio, Toshinori, and his crew back at the agency were also helpful and accommodating, he couldn’t help but feel as if they were… pitying him, almost. 

But [Name]... they didn’t pity him. 

They showed him true sympathy and compassion, while letting him do what he still could without babying him all the time. Being a Pro-Hero themselves, they knew how humiliating it is to be waited on hand-and-foot when one is injured so severely. They were his grounding force throughout his few years of healing, even going so far as to check in on him back at his agency, now that he was back in the workforce - likely to make sure he wasn’t doing any fieldwork, and stuck purely to his office. Normally he’d get annoyed if someone was constantly barging in to ‘check on him’, but with [Name], he’s come to love their daily visits to his office. Sometimes it was to have lunch with him, other times it was just to chat and have a break from hero work, often still in their hero suit. 

Mirai couldn’t ask for a better way to spend his work days.

“You’re thinking again, love,” [Name]’s voice cuts through his memories, bringing him back to the present where they both stood in their pajamas in the florescent light of their shared bathroom. Despite staring at his shirtless, scarred torso, he found that none of his thoughts were actually about the injury at all.

“Just thinking of you,” Mirai hums in response, turning his head to press a kiss to his spouse’s forehead. “And how much of a mess I would be without you here to help me.” 

They give him a warm smile, their hand gripping his shoulder softly in reassurance. “Good, just think about that anytime you start to feel bad about your scars. That’s what your therapist said to do, right? Make positive correlations instead?” [Name] reminds him, moving out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. “Now let's get some rest, we both have to be up early tomorrow.”

Taking one last look in the mirror, Mirai lets out a deep breath before turning and following his spouse back to their shared bed. He takes a seat on his side of the bed, reaching over with his good arm to undo the straps and mechanics of his bionic arm, letting out a quiet grunt of frustration when one of the clasps wouldn’t budge from the angle he was reaching at. Despite it being only a couple years since his injury, they were still trying to perfect a permanent prosthetic arm for him, one with the capabilities to allow him use of his quirk through touch. Something like that required time and dedicated work for it to be successful.

Before Mirai could become even more frustrated at the straps he spent years clasping and unclasping on his own, he felt a gentle touch against his shoulder blade where the clasp was, and pressure of the strap suddenly lifted as the bionic arm came loose to expose the scarred end of his upper arm. 

“You looked like you needed some help,” [Name]’s voice speaks up from behind him, soft and quiet to fit the calm atmosphere that the night always seemed to bring when they were getting ready for bed. “Sorry if you didn’t need it. You just seemed to be getting frustrated.”

Carefully placing his bionic arm in a special case next to the bed, Mirai gives his spouse an appreciative hum. “I was, so thank you,” he replies, sitting back up with a sigh. “It seems even now, fully healed, I still need help with the dumbest things that I should have perfected by now,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, but [Name] could hear him loud and clear.

They move closer to him from their side of the bed, wrapping their arms around his torso and resting their head against his shoulder, careful of his injury despite it being healed. “It’s okay to need help, even when you’ve mastered a skill or task,” [Name] says to him, their voice muffled slightly by his shoulder. “No one is perfect at anything, not even someone who spent their entire lives mastering something. Everyone needs assistance at some point, and it’s in our nature to help. You suffered a terrible injury that left you handicapped, when all your life you’ve gotten used to using both hands to do things.”

Feeling Mirai tense a little beneath their hold, they press a reassuring kiss to his shoulder blade. “But that doesn’t make you broken, or stupid, or useless, or unable to perform the tasks you used to. Adjusting to life with one less limb when you’ve grown up with all of them is insanely hard, and I can barely imagine what it’s like. Now look at me, Mir,” [Name] continues, lifting their head so that they can gaze up at their husband’s face. 

When they saw those golden iris’ peer down at them after a moment, [Name] gives him a warm smile. “No matter how small or lame the task, I’m always more than willing to help you. I will never think any less of you for what you are or aren’t able to do anymore, because I love and care about you. You are my husband - my soulmate, Mirai. No matter what happens to you, I’ll still love you, so, so much,” their words slowly trailed off into a soft mumble, nuzzling their face against his neck as Mirai leans his head down to the side to rest atop of his spouse’s.

“Even if I’m a burden?” He mutters, voice uncharacteristically low and fragile.

“You’re not a burden,” [Name] reminds him, their embrace tightening ever so slightly. “Not to me. Not to anyone. I’d wait on you hand and foot for the rest of eternity and not once feel like you’re burdening me at all.”

Their voice started to wobble, and Mirai could feel a few tears gently gliding across his shoulder and back.

“I almost lost you,” [Name] choked out. “I’ll do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and safe. I fear that if I don’t- that if I don’t appreciate every moment you’re still here with me, then I’ll never get the chance, because I never know if one day you’ll just be gone,” they take in a small, stuttered breath, their hold on Mirai loosening as he carefully turns to face them. 

His brows were furrowed in concern, his right arm coming up to gently touch the side of their face, the tips of his fingers brushing away a few stray tears. “I’m not going anywhere,” he starts with, voice low and comforting in a way no one would believe would come from the notoriously stoic Sir Nighteye. “I’ve retired from on-field duty, and like you said, my health is only improving,” Mirai says as he leans in to press a comforting kiss to [Name]’s forehead. He never realized they were holding in such a burden, constantly fretting that he one day might just keel over, or have his existence wiped away during what should have been a simple rescue mission. It made his heart heavy knowing that they were suffering from such anxiety while caring for him, yet it flattered him in a sense to know they cared about him just as much as he cared about them, too.

“I survived a stone spear through my torso and arm - God himself will have to kill me if he wishes to separate us.” That got a breathy chuckle out of his partner, Mirai himself smiling at the small victory. He loathed seeing loved ones cry, especially the person whose laugh and smiles always made his day that much better.

[Name] brings a hand up to wipe at their tears, giving Mirai a grin, although a bit melancholy. “Exactly. So please, Mir, don’t think for a second that I would love you any less than before that terrible day, okay?” They say to him, hands reaching over to gently grip both his shoulders from behind. “I don’t mind taking care of you, especially when you need it the most. It’s okay to need help with something you can’t safely do yourself. I can’t tell you how many times I needed you to reach for something because I knew I’d likely get hurt trying to get to it myself,” they joke lightly with him in an attempt to lighten the mood once more. It was successful, if the tiny snort from Mirai was anything to go by. “I know that’s not as comparable to losing an entire arm, but you get the idea.”

Mirai gives them a grateful smile, placing another kiss to the top of their head. With that conversation over, and the two both physically and mentally exhausted from the days events, a well deserved sleep was in order.

Cuddled up to each other in bed, Mirai waited until his spouse’s breathing evened out, signaling that they fell into a peaceful sleep. He slowly maneuvers himself so that his face could press against the top of their head, his arm holding them close.

“Thank you,” he whispers, rubbing soothing motions against their skin. “For everything.”

[tuxebo]

I just came back on here and found your blog much more different, just more confused ngl.

With the election thingy, would you rather elect Kamala Harris or Donald Trump?

I do see that thingy, I’m not American or anything and more just wondering what you would choose.

I heard my friends talking about Donald trump wanting to set it back to the like 1950s, (sorry if I got the information wrong), I don’t know much either about Kamala.

Yes, very different. Things are getting worse in California, and really bad in Colorado with a Venezuelan prison gang (Tren de Aragua TDA) taking over Aurora. They are stealing cars, homes, raping and killing citizens. The police are not doing anything. The governor is denying it. The national guard is not being called in. Nothing.

Many of us believe during election time, the gang will prevent them from voting, too. It is getting to the point where embarrassment is not enough of a reason to remain silent. Also, I was liberal for like the majority of this blog's life, so take that as you will.

Anyway, what do you mean by setting it back to the 1950s? I am not legally allowed to vote yet, but to answer your question, 1000% Donald Trump. Not only is Kamala Harris a force of evil, just as much as her vice president Tim Walz (whose own family does not support him,) but voting blue has gotten California to the point it is in. The average studio apartment costs $1,000,000,000, homelessness is at an all time high, the drug crisis is also big here, as well as crime.

Walking the streets are unsafe in many areas, it has become more than an eyesore, but a safety issue. Not to mention that despite this, they are trying to make it very difficult to concealed carry, which is out 2nd Amendment right.

The blue votes these things in, then get upset when they actually have an effect. Some even leave to bring those stupid votes elsewhere and ruin everything there, too. The democrats are same party that advocated and fought for slavery, mind you. Their foolishness is why Texans and other Southern states don't want us, even though a lot of us won't try to ruin their states. We can barely live in California, but we have to fight for our home.

As for Kamala, I could talk about her shenanigans to Sunday. From propaganda being the leading tactic of her campaign to keeping black men behind bars past their release date for free labor here in California.

The same lady who says we should spend OUR taxpayer dollars on illegals' healthcare, when many Americans can barely afford it for themselves and their families. Free healthcare, free education, free housing. If we can do all that for them, why do we still have veterans, the men and women who've fought for the country, barely making it by or out on the street? They don't matter to her, though.

She is just as incompetent as she was when Joe Biden was voted in. Speaking of, where did Joe go?

[realclemhours]

Disclaimer‼️ I am not a professional designer in anyway. These are just my opinions and if you like the original designs that is a-okay and more power to you!

So I found out about the Hundred Line Defense Academy from a repost tweet and checked it out only to find that most of the designs are alright… well except for two. Two of the designs we’ve seen so far were either so bad or so awkward that I felt the urge to redesign them complete with design comments.

Closeups + extra comments + earlier outfits I was struggling with under the cut ✨

Darumi’s original design is the one I actually outright hate. There’s just too much going on (the blue hair that awkwardly goes from black to blue at the top, the bows, the weird face tattoos, the striped sweater with bright red patches randomly thrown on, and the random pins??)

Plus the colors are just an eye sore (bright light blue, bright pink for the eyes, dark blue for the sweater, and strong red for chocked and patches????)

She also gives me vibes of being made in a test tube to be the fan favorite

Not only that but we have only seen two lines of dialogue from her we’ve seen (as of making this post) are just like- groan worthy

I went with the black with bright colors to try and make the whole “bright” colors thing work without making it as much of an eyesore

Anyways I feel like I strayed too far from the original in my redesign. I could’ve stuck to the blue color scheme a bit more instead of making her mostly black and pink. Oh well, it is what it is. I at least improved the colors a bit and still made the design fit her personality which is what matters

Kako’s original design is better to me than Darumi’s. It’s more awkward that outright bad

Again, the colors are a bit weird, but unlike Darumi’s original colors, the original colors could work. Light lilac, crimson red, navy, and white could work. The problem is the placing. By making Kako’s hair light lilac and uniform crimson red, that makes her mostly liliac and red which classes a lot. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the red uniform because it stands out so much instead of her face

However, unlike Darumi, another complaint I have is that Kako just looks like two Danganronpa characters smashed together (which is a fair complaint in my opinion because Kodaka made Kako AND Danganronpa and it’s in the same art style). She has a light lilac hair and purple eyes, which makes her look like Kyoko Kirigiri and a VERY similar outfit to Maki Harukawa (there’s a few differences like how Maki has a white bow with tiny red dots, a striped collar, and infinity pin and how Kako’s uniform is a dress and Maki’s is a shirt and skirt). Like at the very least they could have changed the uniform colors and eye colors

It took me until finishing Kako’s ref up to realize this, but the mini buns and extra strands of hair could work because they are kinda similar to Sailor Moon, and I dig her design. Though Kako’s hair is still off to me despite that for a reason I can’t pin down

Anyways I ended up making my redesign closer to her original design because her original design wasn’t as bad as Darumi’s and because I felt like I needed to balance things out since I made Darumi too far from the original I think

Alright that’s all I got commentary wise. Here’s some work in progress stuff for outfits that I ended up not going with

Hope this was a fun read through, for those interested

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Fan Prize Story #3: Finding the Way Back Chapter I

Masterlists

AO3 Blogger Tumblr Audio Versions ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

Chapter Summary

Cal doesn't return from a mission forcing you to venture out into the Kashyyyk jungle to rescue him and face your greatest fears. Rating: 18+ Words: 1.2K

This story was made for @angeldarkness95 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆

The heat of the explosion forces sweat to bead along your forehead, dampening your neat hair. It was closer than you would have liked, but your reddened skin remains unburned. You smile at the flames engulfing the wretched Imperial base; it was an eyesore anyway. 

Something tugs at your mind, reminding you that this mission was a dual effort, bringing your attention to Cal. “That’s odd…” 

Fear consumes you, urging you to rush to aid Cal, but you push away the lies. You cannot believe such trivial feelings, only facts are reliable. Cal completed his portion of the mission, since the base blew up so spectacularly. He is on his way back to the ship, just like you. 

You shake your head and begin the journey back towards the Mantis. Cal must return from the opposite end of the base, where he completed his portion of the mission. Despite the tugging in your head, you keep your thoughts on getting back to the ship. Cal will meet you there. 

You speak aloud to your worry, hoping to rest the fear. “It’s probably nothing.” 

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It takes over half an hour to get back, even keeping your pace at a light jog. As you enter the loading door, Greez and Cere look up from their seats at the table. 

You flash them a victory smile and glance around your current housing, grateful to be away from the wildlife. “Mission complete! Did Cal beat me back?”

Cere raises her dark eyebrows. “Cal has not returned yet.” 

You shrug and sit on the bench seating in the middle of the craft, enjoying the downtime while Cal makes his way back. You suspect Cal’s return will take twice as long as yours, assuming he doesn’t get distracted. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. BD probably ran off to scan something.” 

Cere joins you and sits at the opposite end. “I hope you’re right. He’s not late…yet.” 

You chuckle. “You know how Cal is, always getting distracted by something.” 

You pass the downtime with your feet resting on the center table, enjoying peace after exerting yourself all afternoon. Blowing up an Imperial base is easy enough, like taking clams from a Gungan. The bucketheads stand out against the greenery of the forest, making them easy to target. 

The difficulty was the dangerous fauna, which blends into the landscape, hiding from view, using the element of surprise as its chief advantage. You shudder at the thought of the multi legged creatures; the recent memory making your skin crawl. 

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You lower your feet, boots sounding on the grated floor as it becomes clear Cal is actually late. Cere makes multiple efforts to reach him on the comms, but radio static is the only response. You take up leaning against the loading door frame, surveying the edge of the forest for Cal’s unlikely return. 

Guilt creeps in, pondering if the tug in your mind had been a warning of Cal’s inevitable absence. You reject the notion, reminding yourself that you cannot trust in the Force anymore. It has failed you in your time of need, and you won’t be so foolish twice. Minutes drag by and you find it difficult to relax, despite your statuesque frame in the doorway. 

Cere joins you, worry etched on her forehead. “We still can’t reach Cal on the comms. Kashyyyk does an excellent job blocking our signals.” 

Greez’s voice rings out from the kitchen. “Kid, did you see anything out there?” 

You answer Greez too loud, nearing overly defensive. “No! I mean, Cal definitely completed his part of the mission, or the explosion wouldn’t have been so spectacular.” 

He raises two palms in a mock shrug. “How ‘bout the Force? You can feel each other through it, right?” 

Your face heats at the thought of feeling Cal under any circumstances, causing you to stutter your attempted response. 

Cere interrupts. “That’s not exactly how it works, Greez.” 

“Well, what do I know? I’m just the guy who takes care of all you Jedi. You could at least fill me in on how it works.” 

Cere joins Greez in the kitchen, attempting to explain the Force. You’d find comfort in their banter if icy dread wasn’t washing over you. Absent minded, you pull your favorite stylus out of your pocket and spin it to soothe the discomfort of worry. 

You wonder if you were wrong to ignore the tug, if you’re too late now. Eyes closing and breathing slowly through your nose, you push aside the endless array of outcomes. Your mind, a creature of habit, attempts to slip into meditation, but you don’t allow it. Only focusing on your breathing and keeping one foot in the present. 

You stare at the tree line, willing Cal’s appearance to put an end to the internal suffering in your mind. He doesn’t, and each second wears on you. 

What if he’s horribly injured, or worse, dead? Regret seeps in, knowing that you didn’t tell him the truth about your feelings. How he takes your breath away when he stands too close, or how your heart flutters when he cracks a joke in his low and husky voice. 

Finally, you succumb to the panic, moving into the ship to retrieve a supply bag, tossing your favored item into its depths. Cere and Greez perk up, watching you with interest. 

You spare them a glance as you move methodically to ensure the bag is well stocked. “I’m going to go look for him. He’s been gone too long.” 

Cere nods. “Stay safe out there. The Kashyyyk forest is dangerous. Keep your eyes up.” 

You press your lips together. “I’ve got this. I’ll bring back Cal in one piece.” 

She gives you a tight-lipped smile, standing to bid you goodbye. “May the Force be with you.” 

You don’t acknowledge the language and exit the ship. 

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As you enter the web of trees, your ears attune to the roar of life around you: chirping, screeches, and rustling from above. The noise puts you on high alert, each hair on your body standing on end. The heightened state forces you into paranoia; keeping a hand on your lightsaber and jumping at shadows, fearing the worst. Though it is not the perils of the jungle that terrify you, but the man awaiting your rescue. 

You had a lover, a normal life, years after the purge. He had meant everything to you, but it’s clear you did not hold equal value in his heart. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins at the memory and the dangerous terrain. You focus hard to calm your breathing, but the longer you go without meditation, the more difficult controlling your body and mind has become. 

You speak aloud in a low tone, trying to soothe yourself as one might soothe a child. “It’s not a big deal. Cal’s fine. Nothing happened to him.” 

Your mind takes the words and runs in a different direction, making you aware of the possibility that Cal is, in fact, luring you deep into the woods to betray you. If one man could betray your love and trust, why wouldn’t another? Perhaps it’s your fate to be cast aside for a richer opportunity, to feel the flame of love and burn in its heat. 

Your feelings for Cal are likely blinding you to his true nature. His good looks are a distraction; his muscular form, his flaming hair, his kind eyes. 

“No! Cal wouldn’t do that…I hope…” 

The image of his eyes crinkled as he laughs at your joke, flashes before your eyes. He wouldn’t, would he? You want to believe the best in him, but you grip your lightsaber hilt tight as you move through the jungle. 

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Next Chapter

[karoiseka]

13) Butte

((4th and last one for tonight anyways to be caught up! ^_^ Have some more Stormblood!))

If she didn’t have calluses on her fingertips already from harpstrings already, Karo realized that her fingers would most likely be bleeding by this point in her climb.  She was currently higher than she had any right to be climbing the side of a butte without any gear.  No safety rope, no harness, just wide open air at her back as she clung to the cliff face.  It wasn’t the smartest decision she had made, mostly with her shoulder still in the final stages of healing, but she had made it, and was going to live with it–if she made it to the top that was.  From the height she was at, even with her supernatural strength of will, there was little doubt her body would be shattered upon impact with the ground.

Hugging the stone, she let her weight rest on her feet, carefully shaking out her sore hands one at a time.  She was most of the way to the top now, the small flat surface at the top calling to her as the breeze teased her sweat soaked hair.  As she resumed her climb, Karo knew that if Lyse and Alisaie caught wind of what she was currently doing, she would get an earful–but they didn’t need to know yet.  Hand over hand, slowly ensuring each rock was stable, the progress was slow, but it was having the desired effect as well.

Karo was not thinking of Zenos.  Or of Yotsuyu.  Or of much of anything besides the climb.  They had reached the small village of Namai, and the plight of the people there had eaten at her, before she fled to go scout.  This land was utterly foreign to her with their mannerisms, speech, and architecture, leaving her floundering and more awkward than normal.  Doing something as physical and (to her) calming as rock climbing steadied her.

Finally pulling herself over the top ledge, she finally collapsed panting, finally letting her muscles yell at her.  Flexing her fledgling healing powers, she tried to soothe her aching arms and legs, and hummed happily as she was able to get it to work the way she wanted for once.  That would at least ensure she wasn’t useless when she made it back to the others.

Carefully rolling over, Karo sat up to look around, and grinned.  The view was exactly what she was hoping for, and more breathtaking than she had guessed.  The Yanxia river lay at her feet, sprawling much wider than she had originally thought due to the island so close to the mainland.  Her eyes flickered to the eyesore of a Castrum and outpost to the South, small ships circling the main tower.  

Turning to face Northwest, so it wasn’t in her line of sight, Karo felt that familiar tingle of awe as she gazed at the Moon Gates.  Despite being marred with magitech, they were one of the most beautiful pieces of architecture she had seen in her travels.  Interestingly enough, despite the magitech obviously not belonging, the barrier created a shimmering curtain that if one didn’t know it was not supposed to be there, looked very much at home guarding the gates.  Try as she could, nothing was properly visible through that barrier, so she turned her gaze to things that were on this side of the gate.

Normally she would have dangled her feet off the edge of the precipice, but still being tired from the climb, she stayed seated a few fulms away.  The war had not done this part of the realm any good.  There were bridges still broken, and the remains of watchtowers  crumpled to their base–the signs of battle not even cleaned up, despite how old they seemed.  With another sigh, her eyes turned back to the castrum and forward base.  The Garleans were dug much deeper in here than they ever had been in Eorzea–despite how many castrums they had built there.  

Ala Mhigo and Doma were sisters in that predicament, and the reason Karo was here.  At the end of the day, she was the arrow pointed at their enemies, the sword wielded by her friends and allies.  The only one who could, despite her failure in Rhalgar’s Reach to even protect those there, and falling so quickly to Zenos.

And her mind was back where it was before the climb, anxiety climbing once more as she thought of the crown prince and what he had done to her so casually.  Laying on her back, she squinted up into the sky, trying to escape for just a little longer.

[kunikame]

TWISTED WONDERLAND

NATSUME DROPLIGHT (ref. to sundrop flower from tangled)

ramshackle dorm leader, 1st year

dominant hand : right homeland : ? club : gargoyle studies club best subject : astrology hobbies : art pet peeves : grim talking in his sleep favorite food : macarons least favorite food : pumpkin soup talent : quick to pick up skills friends : 1st year gang, kalim al-asim, silver vanrouge, malleus draconia, cater diamond, ruggie bucchi neutral : vil schoenheit, rook hunt, floyd leech (she’s scared of them), trey clover, jamil viper, idia shroud, leona kingscholar

her favorite vest is yellow but she had to give up wearing it because she was mistaken as a savanaclaw resident. mostly wears greyscale clothes now (partly due to ramshackle aesthetic), but she puts red ribbons in her hair since heartslabyul is like her 3rd home.

has a new bandage like every other day. ramshackle is a health hazard (curse you crowley. fix the damn staircase already).

she's on relatively good terms with everyone important, except floyd. the moment she glimpses him in a crowd she's GONE with the wind.

HEARTDROPS !! ace trappola x natsume droplight

#HEARTSHACKLE for life!! (deuce is third wheeling.)

everyone knew it was gonna happen eventually, but nobody knows how exactly it did (natsume asked ace out with a corny pick up line and he doesn't want anyone to know it worked)

nothing really changed between them, except the small sprinkle of additional pda (hand holding ew!!!!! - ace). they still relentlessly bully each other cause it’s fun.

deep down though, ace sometimes worries whether his jabs hurt more than she shows (he’s aware he can be an asshole, but hurting her is the last thing he would ever want to do).

he’s also terrified of the day she gets the chance to leave twisted wonderland. he knows this is not her real home and that she probably misses her family and friends, but he likes to think he and their friends are also essentially like family to her now– he likes to think she belongs here, with him (he doesn’t know she has no plans to leave).

movie nights every saturday, and 1st year game nights on fridays

though natsume constantly complains about them getting her in trouble with crowley, she would not trade their stupid asses for anything in the world.

very common date activity is dancing in ramshackle to songs from her homeland, or stargazing on the roof (ace fell off one time and he has not let her live it down since).

rarely will you find one without the other being somewhere nearby. it's an eyesore. they are banned from most public spaces.

ace offers to be her human canvas out of boredom sometimes and thoroughly enjoys the feeling of the cold paints on his skin, though he will never admit it aloud. when she gives him a painting or sketch of him as a gift he puts it in a hidden box under his bed. he faithfully collects them all to look back on when they're older. he swears up and down every new one he gets is better than the last one. he just loves being her muse

BACKSTORY !!

back at her original world, natsume was a pretty normal kid growing up. divorced parents with shared custody, a couple friends, some after school clubs and niche interests. average teen life basically

on a lovely friday morning, she had a nasty argument with her mother, and her already sour mood at the prospect of having to go to her fathers house later soured even further. she had a surprise math exam and her friends kept throwing jabs at her throughout the day.

safe to say, she’s had enough. after school she immediately rushed home without saying bye to her friends.

she tried to rush home anyway, but then a medieval looking carriage hit her and some magic dark mirror spoke at her. she honestly thought she was dead, but, nope, somehow even worse. some crazy dimensional travel occured and she found herself in the magical land of twisted wonderland. booyah!

ace, deuce and grim being her first friends in this crazed dimension was truly a blessing. despite grim being a talking cat and the other 2 being complete idiots, they were still somehow the most normal beings she's had the fortune to meet.

and, somehow, somewhere along the way, she found her eyes lingering on ace a tad longer than they normally should. found herself thinking about him more than it was socially acceptable between friends.

what joy. if she were alice she could never return now, for love is the strongest magic of all, or however the saying goes. be as it may, she stopped planning her return home long ago. perhaps staying here wouldn't be too bad, after all.

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

My pokemon hot takes (and an essay on ninjask getting done dirty)

Lopunny is for the girls and the gays and I’m tired of pretending its not

Me having a little crush on Mewtwo as a kid isn’t weird, what’s weird is that you DIDNT have a little crush on Mewtwo as a kid ok?

Swsh isn’t badly written you guys just completely ignore every non-required area and text box. You wouldn’t know environmental storytelling if it whacked you upside the head.

Paul was the best anime rival, no one stands up to him. His character arc was the best written, his battles had the highest stakes, and best of all he wasn’t fucking annoying!

Iris was the worst anime companion, by far. She did nothing but bully Ash the entire season despite being awful at her own chosen trainer path and it ruined it for me. Girl don’t sit around talking shit when you suck ass at everything!

Fairy should have been weak to bug. Fairy was introduced to be a balancing type by being weak to lesser used types and immune to the strongest type and then made bug WORSE? Fuck off. That makes no sense and it doesn’t even work that well in lore. It could go either way and make just as much sense.

Vanilluxe isn’t even ugly you guys are just haters for no reason AND I think it should get a really cool mega in Z-A based on a sundae and become extremely powerful and viable because FUCK YOU

The Machop line however IS ugly. You do not get to be mad about Incineroar or Meowscarada being too humanoid when that is literally just a man in his undies, and he’s not even cute. Machamp gets a half pass cause the extra arms make it less uncanny but the weird ring around the mouth needs to go, the shorts need to be better integrated into the design (I think gigantimax machamp does a good job of this by blending them down into the color of the legs) and the shinies of the entire line need to be literally any other color but puke green. Either make them all bright green like machamp or skip the green entirely and go dark red. Or a dark gray. Or blue!

Speaking of shinies, green shinies get too much hate. Espeon and teddiursa are cool. Meanwhile yellow shinies usually don’t look yellow at all they look chartreuse and sickly. Like Groudon! Groudon should have a goldenrod color not that abysmal eyesore.

Haxorous did NOT make the jump to 3D well. It just looks a little off and I can’t get over it.

And anyway here’s my regularly scheduled rant about some bullshit because I’m replaying Sword rn and tried to use more mobs I haven’t used before and came across some. Weird bullshit.

Did you know that in swsh ninjask doesn’t learn a single flying type move by level up once it evolves? What the fuck kind of decision was that???? give me SOMETHING I’m DYING OVER HERE.

It technically DOES get Aerial ace by level up but it’s one if those “level 1” moves that you have to get at the move reminder which I forgot was accessible from the start in this game. So I did a bunch of watt grinding yesterday to get a play rough TR for my Tsareena for my Bea fight for no reason and STILL nearly got swept?

And anyway why is that the only one it gets? Why is talking to an npc a requirement to get the ONLY flying move in this Pokémon’s level up moves. Why doesn’t it learn a flying type move upon evolving or in the levels directly after like any normal mon would upon gaining the flying type? It feels really weird and unnecessary. Just swap out the agility level up move for aerial ace, this mon has speed boost it doesn’t need agility.

And then in TM moves it only gets aerial ace (which it already has anyway) air slash (special aka useless on this mom) and acrobatics, Those are its only flying moves which is its better offensive typing! It learns DIG but not fly, peck, wing attack, or pluck?

And in BDSP it’s tm moves get kneecapped! It LOOSES acrobatics and air slash! WHY???? FOR WHAT REASON??? Like sure, it has ROOST and DEFOG now but those DONT DO DAMAGE????

It would have been better for the tms to be roost and acrobatics in the first place. Those are actually useful. But it doesn’t ever get both in gen 8. I could build a seriously annoying ninjask with a focus sash/a berry, roost, acrobatics, leech life, and aerial ace. Pop the sash or berry so acrobatics is increased, aerial ace never misses, leech life and roost heal me. Leech life alone makes it much less of a glass cannon, could you imagine if it got ALL of these moves at once? We were robbed. You can’t give us improved leech life and then not let us build the most annoying asshole bug ever!

And most of its sound based moves are relegated to tm only which is weird considering it’s a CICADA, the bug primarily known for being LOUD. Like they aren’t useful cause they’ve special moves but it should get bug buzz by level up at least. Having screech be its only sound based level up move is just a weird choice, lore wise.

Also its other level up moves are trash. Mind reader is made completely redundant by aerial ace, and doesn’t even make much sense lore wise, it gets like maybe 6 moves between evolving and its last move which ends up being one move every 10 levels or so which is mid at best, and its best bug stab is learned at level 64… or tm which you’ll almost always be doing instead.

Mind reader should be replaced by bug buzz, and there should be another move at around 38-40 that should probably be a coverage move like shadow claw or night slash. It has precedent for learning grass moves too so leaf blade is an option as well though it’s a little bit more powerful so I’d swap its placement with Slash at lv. 50

Anyway quit kneecapping otherwise usable pokemon with nonsensical movesets.

Anyway rant over. Justice for ninjask. Justice for bug types in general.

[chavisory]

Idle thoughts on the way cities should be able to function and overreliance on corporations to do civic good, but...

So the mayor of New York's proposed budget cuts would eliminate, among other things, our community composting programs and weekly collection sites. This doesn't mean I can't drop off my compost anymore; there's a local grocery store with a brown bin who let me if I ask (they have before when I had to miss our Friday collection slot because I was working), but it does feel extra weird and obnoxious to do a year before compost collection is going to become mandatory city-wide anyway.

And I have electronic waste I need to drop off somewhere. The city doesn't do regular e-waste pickup, despite also forbidding this stuff from being thrown in the regular garbage. There's a special collection event that comes to my neighborhood like twice a year. I can virtually never make it because I'm always working on Saturday mornings.

I used to be able to take my e-waste to Best Buy, but the one reasonably close to me closed this past year and now I'm just stuck with this stuff in my apartment until I figure out where else to take it.

A few years before the pandemic, a luxury housing/commercial development opened just south of my neighborhood, with tons of chain and big box stores that everyone was very, very excited about and I thought from the beginning were eyesores and also just entirely the wrong direction for the neighborhood to be going--Modell's, Michael's, a Bareburger, a Walgreen's, Sephora, Ann Taylor Loft... and yeah, some of the time they made shopping easier. I avoided them, but can't honestly say I never used them.

Fully half of them closed in the pandemic. Because they actually had no stakes in the neighborhood!

And it's not that I don't want Best Buy or Madewell, etc. to do electronic and denim recycling! But they become the go-to resources for doing it, so the city government doesn't make provisions for it, and then they pack up and leave because they never actually considered themselves part of the neighborhood...

[monstersinparadise-saga]

Crackpots & Flapjacks

Book One, Part Two of Monsters In Paradise

(Read Part One Here)

Paradise, Washington turns out to be not as far away as I thought. By the time the sun has fully risen, I’ve arrived on the crest of a hill. To my left the road continues on roughly the same elevation; I can see a residential area beginning to emerge. They’re nice houses, most of them two-story, painted in a lot of pastel colors that seem more endemic to a beach town than the side of a mountain. Some of them have boats in the driveways alongside pickup trucks and medium-size SUVs and hatchbacks, and most of the hatchbacks have kayaks strapped to the top. Outdoorsy town, I think, although I suppose around here you’d have to be.

Along the right-side path the road descends to follow a river emerging from below, a winding path that is still residential but with houses that aren’t as nice. They’re mostly one-story or ranch style, and gravel instead of driveway. There are a few shops down there too, although most of them still look dark. One eyesore sticks out: a neon sign like you’d see advertising a bowling alley, except instead of pins it depicts a stack of pancakes with a pat of butter on top, and a redundant word, HOTCAKES, above it.

This catches my attention for two reasons. One, any local gathering place is a good way to trawl for information for the three main questions I need to urgently solve: who I am, how I died, and how I’m now walking around. I don’t expect a diner to be a place I can get much traction on question number three, but it’s a start in the right direction. 

Two, I am undeniably starving. So starving that I am completely unwilling to contemplate how I have no heartbeat but still need food. Chalk that up to the list of mysteries for after pancakes.

As I go to make my descent, the unmistakable sound of an engine comes up from behind me. I keep my head low, but a large navy-blue van rolls to a stop beside me anyway.

“Hey there, stranger!” 

The speaker is another man, young, with wild-looking hazel eyes and curly blonde hair that is mostly shoved into a grayish baseball cap. He’s got a toothy grin, minus one tooth on the right side of his mouth. “Fancy seein’ you again! You out for a jog?” 

Oh God, we’ve met. He’s as unfamiliar as everything else, but he’s the best chance I’ve gotten so far to figure anything out. “Oh, uh… yeah. Just getting a workout in, you know.” 

“How’s the t-shirt treatin’ ya?” 

He can’t mean the worn-out AC/DC t-shirt I stole from a morgue locker, can he? Did he give me a t-shirt? Does he sell them? “Great,” I say weakly, hoping the response won’t raise suspicion. 

“You want a ride down to Flapjack? I’m headed there myself, and no offense man, but you look dead on your feet.”

Fighting the urge to laugh, I accept, and he pops open his passenger-side door. I slide in and try to scan as much as I can for context clues. 

It’s an old van, a manual transmission with hand-crank windows. Despite that, it seems to be running fine, as the man putters down the steep hill. Hanging from the rearview mirror is some kind of work badge and something else; a small keychain with what appears to be a small stuffed-animal Bigfoot. 

“Those didn’t sell well,” the man says mournfully. “Said it looked too much like a regular gorilla or somethin’. I gottem on sale still if you want one.”

Casting a look behind me, there are racks of clothes built into the interior of the van, along with crates stacked on the bottom. From here I can see a few different designs, paired with bold, all-caps slogans like “I WANT TO BELIEVE” and “RESPECT THE LOCALS”, overlapping creatures’ silhouettes. 

Well. That answers a few questions.

I decide to play my odds. “Remind me, what was your name again?” 

He flashes that grin as the road levels out, bringing us to the strip of shops along the river. “It’s KP! And you’re – wait, wait, wait, don’t tell me…” 

He pulls into a small parking lot right below the neon hotcakes sign and frowns in concentration. I hold my breath, hoping for a lucky break. He sighs. “Dang it. Hold on…” Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scrap of paper from his pants pocket. “That’s right! Max!” He flashes the piece of paper at me, which has the name and a ten-digit number scrawled into it. 

“Ah, that’s right,” I said, relieved. “I forgot I gave you my cell number.” 

“Well I hope it’s not your cell number, man, what use I got for that? Ain’t service out here for miles. This is your hotel number, right?” 

“Right. Of course.”

We get out of the van and head into the diner, which I can see from the sign on the door is called Flapjack, depicted in old script like a classic baseball team. A bell rings as we walk in – there aren’t too many people here, but KP waves to a woman at the counter. “Mornin’, Kris.”

“Morning, Kay! Usual?” 

“Yes, please, and whatever my new buddy here wants.” He flashes me a grin, adding to me, “Got a big tip on my route this morning.”

Perplexed at how a t-shirt and souvenir salesman has a ‘route’, I just slide into a seat at the counter next to him. The woman comes up to me – she’s probably college age, and not wearing any kind of uniform save for a name-tag that reads Krista. She hands me a laminated menu and pulls a pen and pad out of the back pocket of her light-wash jeans. “Whatcha feeling?”

“Pancakes, please,” I say, scanning the menu briefly.

“Comes in a stack of three. That good with you?” 

“Perfect.” 

“Bacon or sausage with that?” 

Automatically I say, “Sausage.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I feel another wave of relief – it’s almost the first real thing I know about myself outside my name, and that I’m not from here. Max, whoever he is, likes sausage over bacon.

“Sure thing. Coffee?” 

“Please.” Before she walks away, I think to ask one more thing. “Oh, hey – I uh, got a little bit turned around this morning, and for the life of me I can’t remember which hotel I’m staying at. Do you recognize this number?” I nod at KP and he fishes the note out of his pocket again, showing it to Krista. 

She looks at me quizzically, but takes it anyway. “Sure; I mean, if you’re staying in town there really aren’t that many options.” She pulls out a small booklet from underneath the counter, which looks like some kind of recommendation list for tourists: local trails, activities, and presumably, lodging. It’s a very thin booklet. “Yeah, this is the number for Paradise Inn. It’s right next to the welcome center; you can’t miss it.”

I thank her and she returns to the kitchen to place our orders. I’m tempted to go running to the hotel right now, abandoning KP and pancakes to go investigate my room, but hunger and politeness get the better of me. Beside me, KP chatters. I’m able to gather from the chatter that at the very least he’s lived in Paradise a long time, and he carries on a number of odd jobs alongside hawking cryptozoological souvenirs, one of which is delivering weekly copies of the Cascadia Spectator newspaper to its subscribers in the nearby area. After checking in on a few other customers dining in the booths, Krista comes back to chat, too, setting down two coffees in front of us in heavy ceramic mugs. I take a sip – it’s bitter enough that even if pre-death Max didn’t take cream in his coffee, I decide he does now.

“Any sightings this week, KP?” She asks, waggling her eyebrows conspiratorially.

He shakes his head. “Naw. Some guy over in Lewis County tried to sell me that he seen a flyin’ saucer the other day, though. Swore up and down, til I pulled up the NASA reports and showed him it was just some space junk fallin’ outta orbit.”

“How’d he take it?”

KP snorts. “Guy kept insisting. Anyway, he got real mad when I didn’t pay him.”

Krista turns to me. “KP offers rewards for reports on sightings of weird stuff,” she explains. “UFOs, Bigfoots, stuff like that.” 

“It’s just Bigfoot, Kris. It’s the singular collective, like how lots of fish is still fish.”

I smile. Suddenly I like KP a lot. “Got a high burden of proof, KP?”

“Sure do! I mean, anybody’ll do anything for a buck, you know? But folks still need motivation to come forward with stuff; they’re used to bein’ laughed at by the cops, or they’ve been intimidated by the Men In Black. But a fifty-buck reward will grease a lotta wheels.”

Krista disappears into the kitchen and returns with two steaming plates. She sets pancakes and sausage down in front of me, and a big omelette stuffed full of mushrooms, cheese, and peppers in front of KP, along with toast. KP takes a bottle of ketchup and squirts it liberally in a zigzag over his eggs, while I lather my breakfast with warm maple syrup.

“KP runs a blog,” Krista says helpfully. “The Watcher.”

“Been thinkin’ about a re-name,” KP says, mid-chew. “Not great SEO, if I’m bein’ honest.” He swallows, pointing his fork at a rack by the door. “Kris here’s probably the biggest fan; keeps printouts of articles by the door.” 

While they talk, I try to eat as calmly as I can, but God in heaven these are good pancakes. Fluffy and tender and they taste like butter and a hundred-year-old griddle pan that someone’s been taking care of their whole life.

“It’s good for business,” Kris shrugs, though it’s clear from her expression that her interest isn’t purely pragmatic. “The more people come around looking for weird stuff, the more omelettes we sell. Besides, a lot more people like The Watcher than just me.”

“Just not people around here,” KP says under his breath.

I tilt my head between bites. “Locals aren’t a fan of you?”

“Naw. But it’s not their fault. This town was supposed to get a big leisure industry; there were plans for a big resort until not too long ago. But it all went belly-up.” 

“Why’s that?”

“Protected species. Big population of – what was it, Kris?” 

“White-tailed Ptarmigan,” Kris supplies. “It’s a kind of bird that makes its nest in the ground, and populations were found too close to the building site. In fact,” she adds, “It’s probably gonna stop damn near anything from being built around here for a long time.”

I nod slowly. “So people are sour about that?”

“Big-time,” says KP, now attacking his toast. “But I don’t care none. I looked up pictures of them birds; they’re cute – I’d rather have a Ptarmigan than a resort, anyway.”

Kris hums her agreement as the door swings open again. A dark-skinned young woman with her hair in long braids walks in, wearing a hoodie over what appear to be scrubs, paired with chunky sneakers. She walks behind the counter, giving a kiss on the cheek to Kris before pouring herself a mug of coffee.

“Hey, sugar. Long shift?” Kris asks. 

The woman nods wearily. “Not too intense. Just a couple hiking accidents, mostly. And that flu going around.”

“You should really sleep before you study, you know,” Kris says, sliding her arm around the woman’s waist and giving her coffee a well-practiced stink-eye.

The woman doesn’t respond, just raises the mug to her lips – but she stops before she gets there, because she makes eye contact with me, and freezes. 

Her recognition shocks me to my core. There’s something in her face; some combination of confusion, fear, and anger present on her face, though I can’t estimate how much of each.

There’s a big problem here, I can tell; and it’s one I can’t deal with until I know more about myself and why I’m here. I react, standing up quickly, leaving behind a quarter of a plate of pancakes and half a sausage link. “Thanks for breakfast,” I say to KP, before giving a short wave goodbye and setting off out the door, exhaling deeply as I leave the Flapjack Diner behind. A quick scan shows me that the welcome center, marked by a large flag, is up another small hill towards the mountain.

As I climb, the I see the silhouette of the Paradise Inn. A two-story, log-cabin-looking affair, it’s the picture of a quaint countryside hotel. There’s a parking lot with around eighteen spots, but only two of them are full. At the front desk, there’s a bald man with glasses leaning back in a swivel chair. 

“Erm… hello. I seem to have misplaced my… room key,” I say awkwardly. 

The desk guy raises an eyebrow. “Room number?” 

“Uh…. Lost that too.”

“ID?” 

“…You’ll never guess.” I smile weakly. “Left my wallet in the room.” God, I’m getting so tired of guessing and lying.

He snorts. “Mountain air got to your head, did it?”

“Actually, I took a fall on my run this morning. I’m fine, but, you know. A little fuzzy.”

“Well, I trust you know your name, at least,” the desk guy says, firing up an ancient-looking computer on the desk.

“Yeah. Max.”

“That’s right. Max. Paid cash.” He doesn’t ask a last name. Maybe it’s a small-town thing. “Right; you checked in a week ago. Room 12 – down the hall on the right.” He pulls a fresh key card from the scanner. “Try not to lose this one.”

I grimace. “Understood.”

The room, once I find it, has a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. “Guess I don’t like visitors,” I mumble to myself, before pressing the keycard to the lock and swinging the door open. 

It’s spare in there – no television or anything; just a bed, a desk, a lamp on a small side table, and an old armchair. There’s a duffel bag on the bed, and again I’m disappointed as it fails to evoke any recognition. The clothes inside are basic – jeans, some plaid button-ups, the usual unmentionables. 

The bed is mildly slept-in, but other than that, there isn’t much to go on. There’s an empty bottle of water and a crumbled wrapper from a gas-station sandwich in the trash can, but that’s it. As I’m about to tear my hair out in frustration, I realize – the drawer on the bed-side table is slightly ajar. I pull it open, and if I needed to breathe, the sight would have taken knocked the wind out of me.

There’s a wallet there, sure, but more pressingly – a sleek black handgun, and a badge with credentials. 

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

SPECIAL AGENT MAX VALLER

“Oh, fuck.” 

I pick up the badge, the weight of at least one mystery finally off my back. This is me. I have a last name, a job, a damn badge number. I could use the hotel phone and call the number listed right here and someone who knows me would arrange for me to get out of here, back to wherever I’m from, back to whoever might be missing me. I have a life, somewhere, and it’s right here in my hands.

Except. 

Except I’m very dead.

I’m dead, but I’m not, and no one can know, or I’ll be stuck in a facility to be tested until whatever spark of life still within me is pulled out with tweezers. And then I’ll really be dead.

I’m sure of almost nothing, except for the fact that I really really don’t want to be really dead.

I shove the credentials back in the drawer and shut it. No one knows I’m dead, and it needs to stay that way.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of crackling behind me.

“Hands up. Turn around. Real slow.”

I comply, as still as I can. It’s the woman with the braids from the diner, standing in the door that I stupidly left ajar in my fervor for answers. She’s holding a taser, and the look on her face tells me she’ll use it.

“You want to tell me what the fuck,” she says fiercely, “a corpse I put on a slab not three hours ago is doing walking around town?”

(Read Part Three)

[plumsaffron]

Cherry Crimson Brine Final (1-3)

Immortally Wounded

Jump back to the 3rd brine

To Every Part Link Here

Days Later Rooster Bold: How is she? Cat Noir: The doctors said she should be okay and ready to go in a few days  (Strange thing is I haven't seen any of her caretakers at all)

Meanwhile Felix: Should we tell the people it's Lila? Marinette: I rather not. Kagami: Yeah don't. (Why am I holding onto this memory?) Marinette: I don't know. I had to convince even Aeon to not spill the beans.

After what I seen, I don't wish to do that. 

Rather keep the peace that we worked so hard to have and finally get

(Still, this is just an addon to my other secret).

Kagami: Well now we can help more forward with Mayor Bustier's plans. Kagami: I still…can't believe my friend…would do this. I feel so uneasy. Felix: Well at least the people in this city only think it was a dream 

or that Hawk Moth brainwashed us. (I don't even know how that's possible but it worked). Kagami: Hopefully none of us  have to do this again. 

I really hated this method. Marinette: Yeah I know. I'm sorry I dragged you all into this. 

(But she's not Adrien's dad. Why am I keeping this a secret from the world? She’s not Mr. Agreste.) Felix: I understand though. Kagami nods Kagami: (Why don't I feel angry at Lila though? Shouldn't I? She...)

Few Days Later Lila walking to one of her domains She waves but the npc gives a disgusted look and looks away Lila: (What was that about?) She tries to catch a bus When the bus sees her, the doors close and the bus drives away She's puzzled from what going on Lila: I should have brought my bike.

Some walkings later Lila: I'm home. As soon as she said that, she witnessed a triple wake up call Next Day Lila is just sitting where she usually would outside Thinking about Yesterday Few random Parisians approach her She notices Lila: Umm. Can I help you? I'm kind of busy pondering. NPC Boy: Get out of here. Eyesore Lila: Say what? NPC Girl: Begone now. Beat it! Or elsssse. Lila: What did I do? NPC Boy: You should knew, you scum. Do what I say, wretch! Lila leaves but is looking back cause she’s bothered by the 2 randoms’ threats As she’s walking, she gets yoinked and pinned against a wall NPC Band Member: You vermin. It’s because of you she’s gone. You’re why she’s gone, you insufferable freak. Band Member 2: What shall we do with this spawn? 

That idiot makes me itch. Band Member 3: Maybe we should bash this thing until we are bored. This liar person deserves it anyways for what she’s done. Band Member: Her very existence and lies disgust me. This roach is worse than Hawk Moth. Throws her and she falls on her arm Downed as she is, she’s witnesses their aggression beginning to overflow Lila gets up and jets away Band Member 3: Get Back Here! I’m not done with you yet! 

They sprint after her and try throwing their instruments at her

Meanwhile At Adrien’s Mansion

Nathalie: I’m sorry As she hugs Adrien and beginning to tear up I didn’t know. I thought she (I’ve spied on her for months and more)… And yet… I’m sorry I failed to keep you safe from toxic people like her! I failed your mother! I didn’t bother keep tabs on that evil entity.

After 10 seconds Adrien: Its… It’s okay. She didn’t do anything. Nathalie: But… The Agreste Brand.

I’m sorry she ruined it.

Adrien: None of us knew the truth. I don’t feel harmed or damaged. Let’s move on and do something to keep your mind from this.

(Despite this information. I don’t believe it. 

I just need more time to uncover the real truth.)

Elsewhere

Kagami: This can’t be real. This isn’t real! IT’SNOTTRUE! Sulking My friend… But the evidence… Mother was right. If I just… Listen to her commands and rejected friendship for all. 

Despairingly I would not feel. BROKEN

(I would have no attachments)

Meanwhile somewhere else in Paris Andre Glacier: Ready! She hears his voice Andre Glacier: FIRE!

The Ice Cream Man and npcs catapulting or throwing ice cream at her She runs away with one eye open and with her body aching from the cold and rough objects hitting and latching on to her and melting

10 minutes later Lila: Urg rrgh. What’s wrong with this town?

It’s way worse than the incident that paperwork nightmare.

Pigeon Robots, Gamer City, Soundwave's disks and instrument town, and Clonika golden phone chips stuff everywhere. Suddenly someone blindside’s their arm were her neck is causing her to fall They proceed stomping on her

after 30 seconds of her beatdown session Jean Duparc: What shall we do with her.

She’s absolutely scary. Theo Barbot: Lets Burn The Witch Who's got a lighter? Some NPC girl: Look out. Throws something that engulfs Lila in flames

Screaming and burning alive Theo Barbot: Good riddance.

Hideous woman preying on the legacy of the savior.

the girl who engulfed her laughs at her Fire Truck Driver sees and stops Firefighter steps out and extinguishes her demise from being reached Jean Duparc: Hey what was that for?! She’s a witch.

If only there was a stake and more watched.

NPC Girl: Yeah don’t you remember she lied about everything. 

The hag probably tricked the 3 smooth brained woman in raising the eyesore itself. 

Theo: Just let this scheming creature die so I can celebrate.

Knowing that she breathes gives me a chill. Hessenpy: No, she doesn't deserve that.

Lila: At least someone has the decency to protect me. Hessenpy: Protect you? No As he walks closer You're worse than Hawk Moth or that evil entity that Mr. Agreste saved us and unfortunately you from You are going to live as everyone’s punching bag or destructible action figure until there is nothing left of you. NPC Girl: That's smart. Theo: Yeah. Lets drag this fake teen down as long as possible. Restrains Lila Lila: LET ME GO! Hessenpy: Let's cut her hair. Lila: NO!

Link to the 2nd Part Of This Finale Pending