#because he's a hero and that's what he does

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Whatever or not some of Spamton’s mannerisms and catchphrases are an intentional attempt to mimic Tenna, or if it’s the other way around... I think you could at least say Tenna is closer to what Spamton is constantly trying to be.

I mean, it’s not like Tenna is actually happy and content with his life and isn’t at least kinda deranged… but he is at least capable of being genuinely charismatic and dazzling people with his fun personality, charm and bombastic charisma. Literally anything Spamton does just oozes Bad Vibes, but Tenna, as long as he’s not actively in Meltdown Mode is capable of being entertaining and fun enough to get our heroes to play along and enjoy themselves.

And even when Tenna is actively spiraling, he’s not even a quarter of the creepiness of just Spamton’s baseline.

And Spamton clearly wants power and prestige and status, to be a [[BIG SHOT]]. But even at the heights of his [[Bigness]] he was still under the authority of Cyber World’s supreme authority, Queen.

But in TV World, it’s Tenna who is that supreme authority. The one who’s calling the shots. The one whose face is plastered everywhere.

Spamton’s takeover of Cyber World was officially about getting his [[Hyperlink Blocked]] unto the NEO Body… but he sure seemed to revel in his newfound position of power as well.

Even Tenna’s method of controlling the people of TV World plays into this. While his passion is in entertainment and showmanship, he basically got everyone in TV World under some extremely unfair contracts to make sure they all take part in his show and generally do as he says.

So he’s more effective at scamming people than Spamton is, even though that's basically Spamton's one 'purpose' in life according to the general metaphysical rules of how Darkners work.

But also on the other hand, from Tenna’s perspective, Spamton is the very symbol of the technological progress that has overtaken and overshadowed the Television. Sure, Tenna has all the prestige you could possibly imagine in TV World, but that’s a world whose own prestige is diminishing more and more with each passing day.

For Tenna, Spamton represented the shiny modernity that he just couldn’t grasp. He has an inherent understanding of all this newfangled technology that scares and confuses Tenna.

Spamton might be weird and disquieting, but as the incarnation of Spam Mail, he has reached and affected the lives of far more Lightners than Tenna could even dream of in the last ten years. And that’s even after Spamton downfall, last time Tenna saw him, he was a genuinely successful Internet adbot!

…I think it’s likely that their occasionally shared phrases are a result of a mutual attempt to mimic what the other had.

Although I guess what at least put Tenna at a better position than poor ol’ Spamton is that improving Tenna’s situation is a lot easier. All Tenna needs to be happy is to find someone new to watch him. He’s still a perfectly usable television who can bring happiness and be happy as long as he can broadcast.

Spamton’s whole existence as Spam Mail is an existential horror where he is both obsessed with success and unable to achieve it permanently because… he’s Spam. The very metaphysics that define the universe deemed him destined to fail eventually.

But also, Tenna is probably totally unaware of this, if not like... literally incapable of grasping the idea. Again, he knew Spamton for the brief period he was actually successful. And he lacks the understanding needed of either modern internet culture or the metaphysical mechanics of Dark and Light that drove Spamton mad.

[latriviata]

re-rbing because this comment has been making me laugh for a solid two+ months

(edited to add image description for original post: under cut)

[ID: a page from Lomeli’s narration in the 2016 novel Conclave:

Celibacy had not made him feel neutered or frustrated, as the secular word generally imagined a priest must be, but rather powerful and fulfilled. He had imagined himself a warrior within a knightly caste: a lonely and untouchable hero, above the common run. If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. He was not entirely naïve. He had known what it was to desire, and to be desired, both by women and by men. And yet he had never succumbed to physical attraction. He had gloried in his solitariness.

followed by a screenshot of Thomas Lawrence looking grim at the beginning of the 2024 film, with text “while you were having premarital sex I studied the Apostolic Constitution”. the last two words are in large red gothic script. End ID.]

[yukioos]

YUKI I HAVE AN IDEA!

What if reader and shoto are arranged married for quirk stuff. They are aware due to both sides of family. What’s awkward was THEY WERE CLASSMATES AJAJAJJAJAJA pls, this is funnier in my head.

when you’re in an arranged marriage with shoto todoroki, your old classmate from UA

when you were informed you had an arranged marriage with shoto todoroki, you were confused until your father told you it was because of quirk marriage.

unfortunately, it happened to both your father and shoto’s father, as you knew him from UA. you already knew much about his past, how his quirks work and how he uses them, which attacks of his are stronger and which are weaker, so maybe it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

you weren’t necessarily devastated, just a little surprised, as you hadn’t seen him in a year or so. when shoto was told he would wed you, he wasn’t too ecstatic either, not wanting to have to make a ‘perfect child’ like what his father tried to do. but he remembered your name, the memories flooding back from UA and from the war you almost lost each other in.

but your father wanted you to spend time with shoto so the two of you could get used to each other, a bit sweeter on his part. surely, the hangout wouldn’t be too awkward, after all, you were friends-ish back in high school!

oh, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

you arrive at the todoroki residence with your father for dinner, walking in with formal clothes and jewelry on. when he rings the doorbell, you stand behind him, and shoto’s father, endeavor, answers the doorbell immediately with a smile on his face.

he greets your father and opens the door for him, “mr. l/n, i’m glad you could make it!” his smile slightly falters, “where’s the girl?”

you tilt your head and peek over your father’s shoulder with piercing eyes, staring into endeavor’s now softer ones. he grins as the two of you walk in, and he places a warm hand on your shoulder, leading you further into the house, more to the dining table.

there, you see shoto sitting at the table with food methodically scattered across it, and he taps his hand against his thighs, waiting for you. once he hears the thumping of feet coming towards him, he turns his head but doesn’t stand up or greet his father, nor yours, but he sends you a slight smile. he wouldn’t admit it, but he missed you dearly.

so you sit across from him, and your fathers sit across from each other, starting a conversation but not inviting you two in. you roll your eyes and try to avoid eye contact, feeling yourself become sweatier and more nervous by every passing second. he was still intimidating.

you grab some food and put it on your plate, and shoto quickly does the same, as he was waiting for you to grab the food first. you begin to eat with your chopsticks, and chew quickly, supposing fuyumi made the food, as she did back in high school.

but you feel eyes looking at you, so you sigh and look at your father, who has a disapproving look on his face. he scolds, “y/n, you know the men are supposed to eat first.”

you raise an eyebrow in confusion and shake your head, “since when is that a rule?”

your father continues staring at you before giving a forced smile to endeavor, “i apologize for her behavior, i don’t know what's gotten into her lately.”

they continue their conversation, and you politely ask shoto, “where’s the bathroom?”

he eagerly replies, “i’ll show you,” and stands up from his seat, placing his napkin on the table and leading you down numerous hallways to the bathroom.

you break the comfortable silence, “it’s kinda weird seeing you again, shoto. sorry we lost contact after high school, i got really busy.”

he pauses, “it’s alright,” he tries to make up something, “i got busy too.” it wasn’t a total lie, but he thinks he could’ve managed keeping a relationship with you while doing hero work.

you nod, and he puts out a hand, referring to the bathroom, and you thank him, go to the bathroom, and you don’t hear the footsteps that trail in the hallway.

toya keeps his hands in his pockets, then asks, “why are you standing outside the door, weirdo?”

a soft smile appears on shoto’s face. he speaks, “y/n’s in there,” then raises an eyebrow when toya doesn’t immediately respond, “the earth-wind girl.”

toya lets out an ‘ohh’ and tilts his head, “what’s she doing here?”

shoto’s eyes slightly widen at his brother’s confusion. how the hell did he not know about his marriage? he blurts out, “dad arranged us to get married.”

toya’s eyes widen, and suddenly there’s a darkness within them. he balls up his fists and asks, “history repeats itself, huh? that bastard isn’t any different from a couple of years ago.” he pauses, eyes becoming a bit more teasing, “what are your thoughts on her? on your marriage?”

shoto takes a second to think about it, looking up at the ceiling. he softly replies, “i don’t want to get married to her for the sole purpose of having a multi-quirk child,” he hesitates saying something, but eventually opens his mouth, “but i’m not totally against marrying her. she knows how to handle herself and is good around children, plus she’s smart, has a great personality.” toya’s eyebrow raises, and he grins, but shoto shakes his head, “i remember that from my high school years.”

he then realizes that toya isn’t fully looking at him, but rather behind him, at you.

you came out of the bathroom a few minutes ago, and shoto didn’t even notice.

in my mind toya is rehabilitated and goes to therapy so he’s back home w his siblings and parents. thought it’d be fun and maybe a lil cute to add him bc i miss him so much, thank you so much for requesting this. it was pretty cute to make

[lanalace]

Caleb’s Odyssey

Student Caleb x Teacher Reader

Summary: A young, 27 year old teacher's carefully built professional life unravels because of a brilliant, fixated student.

Warnings: Non-con, NSFW, dub-con, Drug use, Inappropriate relationship, obsessive behavior 🔞

Word count: 6.2k 🍎🍏

A/N: This was meant to be posted yesterday for Caleb’s birthday. Unfortunately, it was also my birthday and I got too busy to proofread and post. Anyhow, please enjoy the late Caleb’s birthday celebration.

Ms. L/n felt it in her bones when the bell for last period rang. The shift in the classroom's energy, the subtle hum of anticipation that had nothing to do with Shakespeare or literary analysis. It was Caleb Chen, of course. He was always the first one in, a silent observer near her desk, determined to disrupt the order in her professional life.

She loved teaching. Loved the way a complex text could ignite a spark in a student’s eye, the satisfaction of watching a hesitant voice find its confidence. But Caleb was a different kind of spark altogether. He was brilliant, undeniably so, devouring literary theory and dissecting symbolism with an unnerving precision. He was also, to her endless frustration, relentlessly fixated on her.

Today was no different. Caleb entered, composed, his uniform crisp enough to cut glass. He didn't look seventeen, his build and mental prowess, a weapon she hadn't yet learned to disarm had never allowed for him to come off as just a typical student. He moved toward her desk, slow, deliberate. He stopped just close enough, a whisper of a violation against the unspoken rule of student —teacher distance.

“Ms. L/n.” he began, his voice a low hum that always seemed to cut through the classroom’s usual din. “I was thinking about our discussion on The Odyssey.”

‘Here we go, again. Alright, buckle up buttercup, for the daily dose of intellectual flirtation.’ She managed a neutral smile. “Oh? What about it, Caleb?”

“Odysseus’s devotion.” he began, his gaze deepening as if contemplating something profound and sacred. “Ten years of war and another of wandering. He slays monsters, blinds a Cyclops, defies gods… sleeps with goddesses. And still, he spends ten years clawing his way back to Penelope. His wife. All that blood, all that sacrifice just for one woman. Isn’t that… admirable? A testament to true love, the kind that reshapes reality?”

Ms. L/n felt the familiar tightening in her chest. This wasn't about epic poetry. "Caleb, The Odyssey is a foundational text, but we don't admire Odysseus for his ruthlessness. His journey is a tale of perseverance, yes, but also of flawed humanity and often brutal consequences." She paused, her voice measured. "He wasn't always a hero."

"But his goal," Caleb countered smoothly, his eyes fixed on hers, unblinking, "was pure. To return to his rightful place, to his fated love. Doesn't that make the 'flaws' merely... obstacles? Necessary detours on the path to what's meant to be?" His gaze dipped to her hand resting on the desk, a silent, almost possessive appreciation of its vulnerability. She lifted it and placed it atop a stack of essays, a silent repositioning of control, a desperate attempt to wall off a part of herself.

“Devotion,” she said coolly, her voice firm, “is only admirable when it respects the people it claims to serve. Odysseus may have loved his home, but his path back to it was riddled with destruction. Loyalty without conscience isn’t noble, Caleb. It’s dangerous. It’s monstrous.” His private smile deepened, a knowing grin that Y/n doesn't understand, but she will.

“Perhaps. But doesn’t the depth of the love sometimes demand such a journey? Isn’t that what makes it grand? When the stakes are so high, Ms. L/n, that one simply must overcome every barrier?” He leaned a fraction closer, a movement almost imperceptible, yet she felt its invasion. “And to think, some people only see the monsters, not the magnificent destination.”

Ms. L/n’s jaw tightened. "The destination doesn't excuse the atrocities committed along the way, Caleb. There's a line. A fundamental difference between perseverance and obsession."

"Is there?" he murmured, his gaze holding hers, brimming with an unsettling blend of admiration and challenge. "Or is obsession simply perseverance, elevated? When you know something is right, when you feel it in your very core, isn't it logical to pursue it with every fiber of your being, regardless of trivial... lines?"

The bell screamed before she could respond, a sudden, startling her. The room filled with students and noise, a welcome disruption. Caleb drifted away, his hand brushing hers in passing. A brief, deliberate contact. Not forceful, but meaningful. She pulled away immediately but still felt the phantom touch lingering like a brand.

This had gone far enough.

She couldn’t afford to make it a scandal. His parents sat on the school board. Old money. The kind that turned misconduct into donations. The kind that could end her career before it ever really began.

But she wasn’t going to let this continue.

~🍎🍏~

Caleb's attention had become a persistent hum in the background of Ms. L/n's days, growing louder and more brazen with each passing week. It was a risky game he was playing, and she, by turns, felt both exasperated and acutely aware of the precarious position it put them both in. She always rebuffed him, but that didn't stop him.

"Just a little longer." She'd silently plead with herself, a mantra she repeated multiple times a day. The end of the school year was a rapidly approaching finish line, a beacon of relief she clung to. All that remained was prom tomorrow night, and then, finally, graduation the following week.

Every morning, walking into her classroom, she felt a prickle of anticipation, a bit weary, wondering how his escalating "attention" would manifest next. She'd developed a habit of scanning her desk, her chair, the space around her, bracing herself for the latest unwanted gesture.

And this morning, there it was. The ceramic mug sat on her desk, nestled amongst her graded papers like a silent, unwelcome guest. It was a rich, forest green, precisely the shade she'd once mentioned liking, though she couldn't recall to whom. Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, was a single, perfect white orchid. No card, no note.

It was just the mug and the flower. It felt less like a gift and more like a marker, a claim laid on her personal space. She quickly tucked it away in her cabinet before the first bell, a shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the room. She'd deal with it later. She had to.

The final bell rang, releasing the last students into the noisy hallway. Ms. L/n waited, her hand resting on the smooth wood of her desk, until the only presence left was the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights. Then, as if on cue, Caleb materialized in her doorway. His very stillness seemed to suck the oxygen from the air.

He leaned against the doorframe, all grace and calculated charm. His uniform was immaculate, his tie slightly loosened, as if he'd already begun shedding the trappings of studenthood.

"Caleb." She said, her voice calm, professional, but with an underlying firmness that she hoped conveyed her absolute resolve. "Could you close the door, please? I need to speak with you."

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes then transformed into a composed look of triumph. He turned and pushed the door, the latch clicked shut, a soft, final sound in the suddenly heavy silence. He took a step forward. His eyes, usually so sharp, held a dangerous softness, as if he genuinely believed this was the moment she would finally unveil her true feelings and reciprocate his twisted affections.

“Ms. L/n.” He began. "Did you like my gift?" He spoke, tilting his head. His gaze dropped to her lips. "I thought of you the moment I saw it."

Another step. Too close now, towering over her much smaller form.

"Tell me you didn't think about me too." He whispered, his voice demanding. Y/n's instincts were slow to react. The suddenness of his advance stole her breath. That was all he needed.

He moved with the practiced ease, closing the space between them in two fluid strides. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his body while his other hand gently. cradled the back of her neck.

He lowered his face to hers and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was warm and surprisingly soft. It was a kiss he bestowed like a lover, tender and possessive, as if longed for this moment for years. He did. Y/n was stunned, completely frozen for a moment.

As soon as the shock wore off, a surge of disgust slammed into Ms. L/n. She shoved him back hard. He released her instantly and she stumbled backward, hitting her chair as it scraped loudly, putting as much distance as she could between them.

Her composure shattered, replaced by pure outrage. Her hand flew to her mouth, wiping furiously, as if she could erase his kiss. She stared at him, breathing heavily. The silence was deafening, save for her ragged breaths.

Caleb stood still, his expression a fleeting mask of genuine confusion, quickly followed by profound disappointment. For a fraction of a second, she saw it… the glimpse of a boy utterly crushed, his carefully constructed fantasy crumbling.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by an unsettling, almost chilling calm. His eyes, though still fixed on her, were devoid of any readable emotion, like dark glass reflecting nothing but her own frantic reflection. Inwardly, a quiet, cold rage began to simmer, unseen.

"I called you back here." She managed, forcing herself to speak, her voice trembling at first then hardening with a desperate resolve. Her career. Her job. She couldn't let emotion control her.

"Because your behavior has become not just inappropriate, Caleb. It is completely unacceptable. You just assaulted me. The 'gift’… it’s not welcome. Your comments, your presence… all of it. This is a school. I am your teacher. There is absolutely no basis for this kind of... attention." She gestured around the empty classroom, her voice rising slightly with frustration and mounting desperation.

"This needs to stop. Immediately. Do we understand each other?"

Caleb's arm dropped to his side, his face settling into a mask of complete indifference. The smile vanished.

"Yes, Ms. L/n." He finally said in a flat tone. "I understand."

He turned on his heels and walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out without another word. Ms. L/n let out a shuddering breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He was gone.

But as the silence settled, she didn’t feel relief. No, instead an unshakable feeling of dread seeped in. The way he had just shut down... it felt off. She didn’t realize that she hadn’t deterred him. Her actions had the opposite effect, she taught him something and he was a quick study.

🍎🍏Prom 🍏🍎

The bass throbbed a relentless pulse through the gymnasium, shaking the floor beneath Ms. L/n's sensible heels. Fairy lights strung haphazardly across the basketball hoops cast a glittering, fractured glow over a sea of sequined dresses and awkwardly rented tuxedos. The air was thick with the scent of cheap cologne and the nervous energy of teenagers on the cusp of something.

Ms. L/n circulated, a forced smile plastered on her face, exchanging pleasantries with other chaperoning teachers, trying to look busy. Other supervisors chatted in small groups, their attention divided. Students laughed, posed for photos, and gravitated towards the music.

She scanned the room, her gaze darting around, unconsciously searching for him. He hadn't been in her classes today, which was a small mercy, but she knew he'd be here. No one misses prom.

She tried to push it away, focusing on the eager faces of her students, many of whom she genuinely adored. Prom was always a chaotic flurry of spilled drinks and awkward dances. It made her smile, watching the children create fun memories.

Whether it was from the overly crowded area or the lack of proper ventilation but the gym was quickly becoming unbearable. Ms. L/n felt a sudden wave of heat, the close air of the gym suddenly stifling.

'A little fresh air.' She thought, her gaze drifting towards the propped-open emergency exit at the far end of the hall, usually used by staff for quick breaks. She hadn't seen Caleb all night, and a small, irrational part of her hoped he just hadn't come. She excused herself from the party, making eye contact with one of her colleagues and nodding to them, gesturing to the exit before leaving.

Y/n sighed in relief as the cool night air washed over her. She leaned against the brick wall, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle breeze clear her head. The music from inside was muffled now, a distant thrum.

It was peaceful, she could feel herself relaxing but it was abruptly disrupted. A voice, low and familiar, cut through the quiet. “Taking a breather, Ms. L/n?”

Her eyes flew open. Caleb stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the doorframe, bathed in the soft glow from the gym’s exit sign. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo, but dark slacks and a crisp black button down shirt, sleeves rolled to expose forearms that had gained a surprising amount of definition. He looked less like a student and more like… a man. She quickly shook the intrusive thought from her head and reminded herself that this was her student.

He held out a clear plastic cup, condensation beading on its sides. “I believe that I owe you an apology.”

Her brow furrowed and she tilted her head slightly. “An apology, Caleb? For what?” She'd half expected him to avoid her, or perhaps offer a final, snide remark. This was an unexpected turn of events.

He offered a disarmingly charming smile, the kind that had probably won him over countless teachers in his academic career. "For being a nuisance, Ms. L/n. For pushing boundaries. I understand now. It was inappropriate, and I crossed a line." His violet eyes darkened as they locked onto hers.

"I truly am sorry for my behavior. Please, a peace offering." He gestured with the cup. "It's just punch. The real stuff is still behind lock and key." He chuckled.

She hesitated. It was so… mature. His direct, humble apology disarmed her more than any of his previous advances. She was tired, her guard was down, and the sheer audacity of his previous behavior had left her utterly unprepared for genuine contrition. She’d always prided herself on seeing the best in her students, even the challenging ones. ‘Maybe he finally understood. He was graduating, after all.’

With a soft sigh, she took the cup. "Thank you, Caleb. Apology accepted." She took a long, grateful swallow of the sweet, fruit-flavored liquid. It was cool, refreshing, and entirely innocuous.

Caleb’s smile deepened, a tasting victory on his tongue but she was too slow to catch read into it. "My pleasure, Ms. L/n." he murmured, his gaze lingering on her lips as she drank.

The pleasant sweetness of the punch dissolved, replaced by a strange, metallic tang at the back of Ms. L/n’s throat. A wave of dizziness washed over her, making the concrete beneath her feet heave and spin. But beneath the disorientation, unfamiliar and terrifying. Heat began to bloom low in her belly, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Her skin flushed with an unnatural warmth, her muscles tingled and weight down.

‘What… what is going on?’ Her vision swam, the faint glow of the exit sign began to blur out. Every sound from inside the gym, every distant car, every beat of her own frantic heart, amplified. Her body felt foreign, lit with fever she couldn’t control.

She shook her head, trying to clear the haze from her mind and lost her balance, stumbling on unsteady feet. She hadn’t even seen when Caleb moved. He was suddenly there, his presence just too close. His arm encircled her waist, gripping her arm as her legs buckled, preventing her from swaying.

He pulled her close, her head lolling against his shoulder, her mind struggling to form a coherent thought. All she registered was the overwhelming sensation of him, the intoxicating heat radiating from his body as she mentally battled with the primal urge to touch him.

"Easy there, Ms. L/n, just lean on me." He murmured, his voice soothing against her ear. Had she been of sound mind, she'd be able to pick up on the chilling hint of satisfaction.

“You're a little lightheaded. Too much dancing, maybe. Let's just get you somewhere you can breathe. Your classroom is closer." He began to guide her, away from the distant hum of the prom, into the darker, quieter recesses of the hallway.

Her legs felt like rubber. She swayed from side to side as she did her best to keep up with Caleb’s long strides. Had he not been holding onto her, she was sure she would be face down on the cold tiled floor.

He steered her expertly, past closed doors, his gaze sweeping the empty hall to ensure no one saw their departure. The cold knot of fear filled stomach, conflicting harshly with the artificial heat in her veins. Y/n could vaguely discern his whispered words.

"That's it, love. Just a little further. I've got you." He coxed sweetly.

They reached her classroom, the familiar number plate blurring on the door. It clicked open, then shut behind them, sealing them in near silence. He didn’t release her immediately. Instead, he pulled her fully into the room, pushing her against the cool surface of the blackboard, her own professional space now his stage. Caleb leaned in, his body pressing intimately against hers, forcing her to meet his smug gaze.

"So pretty." His thumb traced her jaw, then slid lower down her throat, over her pulse. A convulsive shiver wracked her body.

"Even in this state, you are stunning.” he murmured, tilting her chin up, forcing her glazed eyes to meet his. "Dazed. Desperate. Mine."

Her breath hitched, a weak protest dying in her throat. The drug was a living thing inside her, twisting every sensation into something molten and unbearable.

"Happy birthday to me." Caleb smiled saccharinely, his lips grazing her ear. "I’m finally eighteen. And in a week?" His teeth nipped at her earlobe. "You won't even be my teacher anymore. Why don’t we celebrate early?"

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, her thoughts having trouble picking up what he implied as her body continued to heat with desires. She could only whimper, a raw, helpless half protest, half something else entirely.

"You taught me so much about The Odyssey." He mused, fingers tightening in her hair. "Now let me show you what I’ve learned."

That was all he said before his lips crashed onto hers, devouring hers. It wasn't a kiss. It was claiming. Possessive. Demanding. She couldn't fight the way her body arched into him, her fingers gripping his hair. She could stop herself from kissing him back.

He groaned against her lips, finally getting the response he craved. "Knew you'd feel like this." he rasped, pulling back just enough to watch her gasp. "Knew you wanted me."

Her head lolled against the blackboard as his mouth moved to her neck as he sucked and nibbled little bruises into her exposed skin, tasting the frantic pulse at her throat, enjoying every sigh and whimper he pulled from her.

"C-Caleb… s'wrong—" Her voice slurred, barely audible.

"Shhh, baby." His hand slipped under her dress, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of her thigh, seizing her right leg and pulling her hips to meet his as she shuddered. She could feel the large bulge grind into her and let out breathy gasp. The friction was delicious, she instinctually jerked her hips to meet his. "Good girl. Just let go."

She whined when his palm cupped her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple. A broken noise escaped her.

"Look at you.” he purred, tilting her face toward him. "All those years playing professional. But I saw you." His thumb dragged over her bottom lip. "Always biting your lip when I answered questions right, always adjust your skirt when I stared a little too long."

Y/n whimpered and shook her head weakly, denying his claims.

Caleb laughed, low and dark. “I always get what I want, Y/n.”

His free hand yanked her leg around his hip, pulling her flush against him. She could feel him, rock hard, insistent and her body responded, heat pooling in her panties as her hips lifted to meet his.

"Fuck…" His grip turned punishing. "Even now, you're begging for it."

He pulled her head back slightly, just enough for her glazed over eyes to meet his. He found her docile demeanor to be so appealing, that he wished he could frame this moment. Then a smile played on his lips as an idea struck him.

Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, angling it in her direction. The bright flash momentarily blinded her as he snapped photos of her.

"Gotta remember this." He said, snapping another picture of her flushed face, his hand under her dress. Compromising. Damning. "My perfect little teacher, coming apart for me."

"N-no—"

He kissed her again, swallowing her protest. His fingers dipped lower, beneath the waistband of her panties.

“Ahh~” She jolted, grabbing his shoulders as if to ground herself as his long fingers slid up and down her slick petals.

"So wet for me, Y/n." he breathed against her mouth, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.

"All for me." He curled his middle finger, pushing past her folds and into her heated core.

“D-don’t..!” Her vision fractured. light, shadow, the cold press of the blackboard against her back. His touch was everywhere, too much, and yet her body arched for more. A sob tore from her throat.

He groaned as she clamped down on his finger. "So tight.” Caleb forced another finger into her, making her shudder as he began to scissor her, opening her up for him. “Gonna have to stretch you out a bit.”

"I dreamed about this." He growled, fingers working her with cruel precision. "Every night, I imagined bending you over this desk, fucking you dumb—"

Caleb stilled. Then, with a slow, filthy smile, he lifted her effortlessly as if she weighed nothing. Wrapping her legs around his waist on instinct as He moved with her, carrying her towards her own desk. He lowered her onto it, scattering books and papers, the soft thud of textbooks hitting the floor barely registering. The cool surface felt amazing beneath her all too hot skin.

"Let's make it real, yeah?"

Caleb stood over her, his breathing heavy, eyes alight with a terrifying intensity. He took a moment, surveying his patchwork, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He ran a hand through his dark hair, then reached down, his fingers finding the hem of her dress once more.

Caleb’s gaze, a burning, unblinking intensity, drank in Ms. L/n’s dazed, disheveled form. The satisfaction on his face was absolute, tempered by a dizzying adoration that made his movements almost reverent.

"Christ…" he breathed, dragging a fingertip over the damp fabric. "Barely touched you and I’ve already ruined you for anyone else, huh?"

Her vision blurred. The drug was like a living thing inside her, twisting pleasure from panic, heat from horror. She couldn't tell if the moan that escaped was protest or surrender.

Caleb stepped back, drinking in the sight of her-hair fanned across graded essays, chest heaving, thighs trembling. He unzipped her dress with torturous slowness. The fabric pooled at her waist, baring her to the chill air and his ravenous gaze.

"Perfect." His eyes tracing every curve with pure admiration. "Every single part of you."

He moved to the front of her desk, a predatory grace in his movements, pulling out his phone once more. Not for a photo this time. He set it carefully on a stack of books, angling the camera to capture the scene.

"I want to remember this, Y/n." he explained, his voice gentle, as if explaining something vital to a confused child. "The moment you finally become mine. The moment you finally became mine."

He gathered her dress and underwear, slithered them down her body like a dying breath, falling at her feet that dangled above the desk. Cold air licked her exposed skin, raising goosebumps contrasting from the warmth that came from the shame she felt. She tried to cover herself, but her arms might as well have been filled with lead.

‘No. No. No.’ The plea never left her lips.

Caleb knelt before her, his dark head pressing against her belly as if in prayer. His lips tracing a path down her trembling abdomen with soft kisses that burned like brands. Then his hands gripped her hips, wrenching her forward with terrifying ease. The edge of the desk bit into her back as he forced her upper body down, bending her like a bow.

"Look at this." He breathed, staring between her splayed thighs with hunger. She didn't need to look, though. She could feel the slick heat there, the evidence glistening reflected in his dark eyes.

"Just like I dreamed." His voice trembled with something worse than lust-reverence. A fingertip grazed her swollen flesh, feather-light. Her body arched into the touch on reflex, a broken sound bleeding from her throat.

"Shhh.” he soothed, even as his fingers delved deeper, parting her with clinical precision. "Your body knows what you won't admit."

The first deliberate stroke sent lightning up her spine. Her hips jerked. A moan clawed its way out-half agony, half something unspeakable.

“More… please. C—caleb.”

Caleb's eyes lit up from her acknowledgment. "There she is." He smiled all too pleased, circling her aching bundle of nerves with torturous patience. "My perfect girl. Dripping for me."

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the darkness only amplified the obscene sound of his fingers moving through her wetness.

"Uh uh. Open those eyes, baby." A command, not a request. "Watch what I do to you."

When she refused, he pinched her inner thigh-sharp enough to sting. Her eyelids flew open in time to see him bring glistening fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan.

Without warning he sealed his lips over her clit and suckling hard. White heat exploded behind her eyelids. Her thighs clamped around his head instantly, heels digging into his back as the first wave crashed over her. Caleb groaned against her, the vibration sending fresh spasms through her abdomen.

"C-Caleb—!" His name tore from her in a broken syllable, half protest, half plea. She whimpered, her nails scraping uselessly against the laminate as her thighs trembled. A hot, wet stripe along her slit, licking into her around his own fingers.

"Fuck, baby." His groan vibrated against her, filthy and reverent. "You’re even sweeter than I dreamed."

Y/n's back bowed off the desk, a shattered cry tearing from her lips as his mouth latched onto her clit again sucking with ruthless devotion. Her fingers, without conscious thought, tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

He reveled in it. The way her thighs trembled against his cheeks, the helpless little noises she couldn't keep down, he drank her down like a man starved, fingers pumping in time with his tongue, pistoning deeper into her gummy walls.

"That's it." he rasped between laps. "Let me hear you."

A scream built in her throat, morphing into a wanton moan as his fingers crooked just so, striking some hidden chord that sent white-hot pleasure searing through her veins. The orgasm hit hard, violent, devastating, tearing through her with such intensity that her vision whited out. For three terrifying heartbeats, she ceased to exist beyond the pulsating aftershocks wracking her ruined body.

Caleb didn't relent. His tongue worked her through the convulsions, eating up every twitch and tremor like a man starved. When she weakly tried to squirm away, the feeling becoming too much, body too sensitive, he gripped her thighs hard, pinning her in place.

"Shhh, shhh." he murmured against her quivering flesh, the vibration wringing another broken whimper from her lips.

He worked his fingers into nonstop, dragging out every last shuddering aftershock until she was limp, gasping, tears streaking her temples. When he finally pulled back, the obscene pop of his mouth leaving her skin echoed in the silent classroom.

He wiped his glistening chin with deliberate slowness, dark eyes locked on her ruined form-the flushed skin, the tear-streaked cheeks, the way her legs still trembled helplessly wide. His beautiful galaxy eyes sparkled with triumph.

"Perfect. You came so beautifully.” He breathed, pupils blown black with hunger. "But we're just getting started."

Caleb stood and began to unfasten his pants, the rasp of his belt buckle cut through the classroom's silence like a knife. He slid his pants down, freeing himself slowly, his arousal glistening with precum. When he pressed against her slit, the heaviness of it made her whimper as slid his cock between her folds, coating himself well.

Even drugged, her body instinctively tensed. Some conscious part of her recognized her predicament, understood how her that the weight of his cock was indicative of his well endowed size without even looking.

"Shhh." He soothed, kissing her trembling eyelids as he notched himself at her entrance. "I'll be gentle." A lie, he knew, as sweet as the poison.

The first breach was searing, a slow, agonizing stretch. He watched entranced, his dark eyes burning with a possessive fire, as her body stretched to accommodate him, inch by excruciating inch. Her choked gasp morphed into a shuddering moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against hers, locking their bodies together.

"Perfect." Caleb breathed, the word a hot puff against her ear. His thumb, surprisingly gentle, swiped at the tear tracking down her cheek, cool against her flushed, fevered skin. Her pussy fluttered around him, clenching and releasing rapidly as she tried to adjust to him. To his credit and his extreme restraint, he allowed her a moment to, despite the intense urge compelling him to fuck her like the starved beast that he is.

"Taking me so well. You’re body was made for this. Fated to take me."

Y/n’s lip trembled as she laid there. With one particularly hard clench, Caleb hips snapped forward involuntarily, stealing both their breaths.

“Fuck, baby. I need to move.”

And so he did. Slow, shallow thrusts at first, each one a calculated violation of her most intimate space, an invading pressure that consumed them. Her traitorous body, slick and willing, began to respond. his control fractured.

“Hn… Ah~” it was soft, barely a whisper, but he heard it. Soon those meek little noises came quicker, louder and he couldn’t hold back.

His pace picked up, turning punishing. The wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls of the classroom combining with their shared sounds of pleasure.

"You feel that?" He growled, his grip tightened, leaving stinging imprints on her hips. His teeth grazed her collarbone, a prickling sensation sending electricity through her body.

"Feel how perfectly we fit?" He pulled back slightly, then slammed back in, the impact made her bite lip. "This was always going to happen. It was destined."

“No matter the obstacles.” He groaned, fucking her hard, his cock digging into her soaked channel repeatedly. “No one could stop this, not your job, not the school, not even you.” He breathed out.

“Fuck, I’m close!” He was, but he needed her to climax first. He needed to feel her milking his length, to ensure her pussy molded to the exact shape of his cock, needed to ruin her completely. With that chilling thought, he lifted one of her legs, hooking it in his arm, and began to drill into her with renewed, brutal force.

Y/n cried out in shock and pleasure. The bulbous head of his cock rammed into her, battering her cervix with merciless, rhythmic force as he moved like a wild man. She gripped his biceps, her nails digging in for purchase on his taut skin. He fucked her so primally that she could no longer find her voice. All she could do was hold on-feel everything as the building pressure pooled, hot and urgent, in her abdomen.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Fuck you so full.”

Before she could even attempt to comprehend what he was saying, her climax hit. Her orgasm rocked her on a seismic level, a white-hot tremor. Wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body, each convulsion milking him deeper, drawing a sharp, surprised gasp from him.

Caleb's groan vibrated through her chest as he followed her over the edge, a thick, guttural sound, spilling hot, viscous ropes of his seed into her, whispering her name almost like a prayer. He emptied his load into her swollen hole, cursing at the way the aftershocks of release continued to grip him for a few agonizing moments longer.

Y/n sighed in content. Her drugged mind cleared a fraction, a brief, horrifying window of clarity, as her breath began to stabilize.

"You wereamazing." Caleb smiled down at her, brushing a few wet, clinging strands of hair from her face with a hand that now felt sickeningly gentle. She couldn't respond, not even sure what to say. He didn't mind; he was content watching her post-orgasm, glassy eyes, so beautiful, so needy.

His cock twitched inside her, still perfectly hard as if he hadn't just climaxed. She involuntarily tightened, squeezing him, a small, helpless whine escaping her lips. Caleb gasped, resting his head in the column between her neck and shoulder as he tried to regain his composure.

To no avail, he tightened his grip on her hips and began to roll his hips into hers, unable to resist the call of her body. Y/n protested, her hands flying to his chest, pushing pathetically with her diminished strength. She was too sensitive, only a moment had passed between the last orgasm before he started pumping into her again, each thrust a fresh jolt of agony and alien pleasure.

But he didn't stop.

“Shhh. Be good baby." He pecked her lips. “You can take me. Mmm~ You’re so good for me. You can take it.” He whispered to her in such a loving tone, sharply contrasting sinfully deep, hard pace he set. Her core was a sopping mess, allowing him to glide into her without the slightest resistance.

“Damn it. You feel so good.”

~🍎🍏~

After what felt like an eternity, Caleb finally stilled, his breathing ragged against her ear. He remained buried deep inside her, the heavy weight of him almost suffocating her. He had learned everything that made her gasp, cry out, shudder and beg for him. He committed the unique taste of her sweat against his tongue, her juices, over and over again until she couldn't remember where she ended and he began.

The classroom air grew heavy with the stale scent of their arousal. The only sounds were the distant thumping of the bass from the ongoing prom filtering through the door and their panting. He shifted, and she felt the slow, deliberate withdrawal, enjoying his last moments within her. Slick seeped out of her abused cunt, emptying onto the floor beneath her.

Caleb didn't move far, quickly gathering his phone and slipping into his pocket before he reached down, his fingers finding the scattered scraps of her dress and panties on the floor. With disturbing care, he began to redress her, his touch methodical, almost tender, as he pulled the fabric over her still-slick skin.

She was limp, unresponsive, her limbs heavy and unwilling to obey. He settled her back onto the desk, her skirt smoothed, her top pulled down. Presentable. Almost. He took a moment, his gaze lingering on the faint marks blooming on her neck and collarbone. A satisfied smile touched his lips.

"That's better." He murmured, his voice a low, satisfied hum. He leaned in, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Her eyes, still wide and glazed from the drug, flickered, a tiny spark of something, a nascent fury, trying to break through the haze. He saw it. His smile widened, a chilling triumph.

"Three things will happen now, Y/n." He whispered, each word a hammer blow of control, soft yet absolute.

"One: You'll walk back into that prom like nothing happened. You'll smile. You'll say goodbye to your colleagues." He paused, letting the silence stretch, letting the weight of his command settle over her.

"Two: At graduation next week, you'll give me a very special thank you card. In front of my parents." The audacity of it stole the air from her lungs, but no sound escaped.

"And three..." He leaned closer, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth in a chaste, possessive kiss. "When I come to your apartment tonight, you'll answer the door. And you'll be wearing nothing but that pearl necklace I've seen you wear to faculty meetings."

He pulled back, his eyes, dark and unwavering, holding hers. "Do we understand each other, Ms. L/n?"

A/N: I’ve been absolutely obsessed with EPIC: The musical. If you know, you know. 😊

[raguleader]

The redemption of Anakin Skywlker is such an interesting topic to dig into because it does get pointed out that in real life he probably wouldn't be able to redeem himself for his actions and be seen as a hero in the end. And of course, it turns out that's true in-universe as well. From what I recall, Leia herself never forgives Anakin for his actions, that's entirely a Luke thing.

But that makes sense because a lot of Luke's identity is centered on his relationship with his long-lost father, while Leia grew up seeing herself as the daughter of Bail and Breha Organa. To her, Anakin Skywalker, in so far as he figures into her identity at all, is just her biological father, with Darth Vader being a very dangerous villain she dealt with through a chunk of her life who stood by while her homeworld was destroyed and her family killed by the Empire. The two siblings just don't have anything like the same relationship with Anakin Skywalker and that's valid for both of them.

The thing of it is, Anakin's redemption doesn't undo any of the things he did as Darth Vader. What it does do is help stop the cycle of suffering, with him turning on his abuser and protecting Luke, which ended up allowing Luke to go on to do great things (like, at the very least, continuing to live). That's only possible because Luke was willing to forgive Anakin and encourage him to change his ways. That also doesn't mean Anakin was forgiven by anyone else or redeemed in the eyes of anyone but one of his children. We even see later on that his grandson Ben would continue to see him as a villain, with this being warped into Ben wanting to reinvent himself by following in Anakin's footsteps by becoming a fascist enforcer while disregarding Anakin's later decisions to turn away from that.

It's just such a neat topic to dig into.

Star Wars really said "Anakin Skywalker had issues rooted in childhood trauma that was not his fault" but also "Anakin made his own choices as an adult for which he alone is responsible" but ALSO "In spite of the truly evil things he chose to do Anakin was still capable of being loved and redeemed" and I think that's important.

[sparrows4bats]

Lost Bird AU

After writing this, I realised some of it is really similar to @spicy-apple-pie Adopted Damian AU, which is incredible, and I highly recommend it. Thank you to @peterchubs so being my sounding board and asking the best questions.

What if Talia, while she was pregnant, realised Damian could not be left in the hands of her father? What if she left Damian as a safe haven baby hours after he was born, with nothing but a blanket and card with his name on it.

With any luck, Talias son will be a child. He will be loved even if he will never know her. If the universe is kind he never will.

Talia kisses her baby once before leaving him in that little box for help to arrive and cries as she walks away.

Both her father and her Beloved believe she lost the baby, and the secret dies with her.

The Batman doesn't get there in time, and even Ras can't revive her. For years, the two men are haunted by Talia Al Ghul and the ways they failed her.

Damian grew up in foster care. He didn't have a last name when he was abandoned, so a nurse at the hospital was kind enough to name him Damian Hope, like a gift and a wish all at once.

Usually, babies would be adopted quickly, but Damian slipped through the cracks. He was accidentally labelled non adoptable, and none of his foster families had been able to change it. When they protested, he was moved.

When he was old enough to realise what he was missing, his disappointment and want for a family manifested in anger and frustration for a while.

His temper got him moved yet again.

People labelled him dangerous, called him names and always assumed he was a moment away from being violent.

Except Damian never hurt anyone, never wanted to.

He just wanted to be loved, so badly, he would do anything to get people to even notice him.

He only learnt to control it when he met Billy. They were both ten, and the other boy had given him the chocolate he had smuggled away before the other kids had seen it.

Damian took the treat but hadn't trusted Billy at first. He tried to scare him away, only to find it didn't work. Billy had a temper to match his own, and Damian, despite his best efforts, found himself growing attached.

Damian remembers looking at the boy who was kind even when he didn't have to be and feeling less alone, less like if he disappeared, no one would even notice. Because Billy would.

For the first time, Damian feels at home with his chosen brother by his side. They both start to learn how to deal with their tempers because they don't want to be separated or moved away from each other.

They look out for one another, protect each other, and start to feel more like the kids they are and less like survivors.

It's the longest a placement has ever lasted for either of them.

Then Billy becomes a hero.

It was an accident, he never meant to be Shazam and he tries to hide it from Damian only to show up bleeding all over him anyway.

Damian patches him up, interrogates him, and scolds him. Damian knows there's no convincing him to stop. Not when Billy looks so fulfilled, excited in a way Damian has never seen him before.

So they make a deal, Damian will keep his secrets if Billy promises to come back safe.

Billy does his best but he comes home more hurt than not. Damian learns how to patch him up better and better everytime.

Damian might have wanted to be a hero alongside Billy at first, but the idea of fighting, of looking to hurt someone even if it's in defence of someone else, just felt wrong to him. Like he was proving the racist, dismissive comments he has heard all his life right.

Damian doesn't even know what he is, so people try to tell him what they saw. He was other, he was dangerous.

So Damian decided not to be a traditional hero but a doctor. A hero that saved heroes. someone who will keep his best friend alive.

Damian was smart, even with all the moving and behavioural issues managed to maintain perfect grades. He was even moved up a few grades thanks to some kind, if exasperated teachers.

When he decided to become a doctor, he put his all into extracurriculars that the school would pay for and graduated years early. He managed to land state funding for his undergraduate degree and a scholarship for living expenses.

He graduated in just under three years and got into med school. Billy was supportive even if the distance made them both anxious.

Billy started working with the Justice League, and Damian was in harder, longer classes, so Damian started to feel lonely and unimportant to the world again.

He even goes so far as to buy a DNA test, hoping that somewhere there might be someone who would like to know him, that can tell him where he gets his eyes or his hair. That can give him an identity outside of Damian Hope, the baby that was left in the box.

Then he met Jonathan Kent.

Damian was studying like usual, and when the sun came up to remind him exactly what time it was, he braved the outside world to grab coffee.

Once his monstrosity of a coffee, the size of his head is in his head, was procured an exhausted Damian promptly walks straight into a wall of muscled chest. It's only the strangers quick reflexes that save his coffee.

Damian is left looking up into bright blue eyes and black curls.

"Sorry!" Damian gasps out, but he doesn't step away. He blames it on the fact that he has not slept in 36 hours.

"It's fine! Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I? "

"No, I'm fine." Damian rubs the back of his neck, and the man still hasn't moved. The closeness is making him blush. "Can I have my coffee back please?"

The man seems startled to find the cup still in his hand. "Of course!"

Damian grabs the cup like a lifeline. "I'm Damian by the way, it's nice to meet you."

The man looks like a model when he smiles. "Jon."

Damian doesn't know what to say, Billy always tells him he is the worst at flirting. "Do you wanna g-"

Jon's phone then starts ringing. "Oh shoot! I'm so sorry I have to go! It was really good to meet you, Damian. I hope I see you again!"

And the man is running out of the coffee shop, leaving Damian with warm fuzzy feelings and the need to take a nap.

Damian finds himself daydreaming about the stranger for days afterwards.

He visits the coffee shop more often after that, half hoping to catch a glimpse of Jon. Plus, the coffee is really good, and he is just about to graduate medschool. He is 90 per cent caffeine at this point.

Then, one day a week later, Jon reappears.

Damian is standing in line when he feels someone politely tap his shoulder.

"Damian, right?" And there Jon is again with a dimpled smile and somehow looking better than he had in Damians imagination.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you again Jon.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

"Absolutely!"

Jon is horrified by how many espresso shots Damian orders, but afterwards, they sit and chat for what feels like moments until Damian checks his phone and realises he really needs to get back to studying.

Damian really doesn't want to leave and tries to explain to Jon that he is not trying to blow him off.

But Jon's already scribbling down his number, much to Damians delight.

"You can choose to ignore this, and we go back to being strangers, but I've been thinking about how I should've done this the first time we met and when you'renot busy I'dlove to take you out on a proper date."

Damian is almost swooning as he takes the number and excitedly agreeing.

Studying is a lot harder when Jon Kent invades his mind.

They text constantly after that, and Jon takes him for noodles one night after his last exam.

Damian is smitten, daydreaming, and lovesick in no time. Billy is worried for his friend, but Jon is returning that energy with even more intensity.

Just in case Damian avoids introducing the two for as long as possible.

Damian wonders if he should tell Jon about his aspirations to be a doctor for superheroes.

Not revealing Billy's identity, of course, but every time Damian is so much as mentions heroes, Jon gets wide-eyed and changes the subject.

It's gotten to the point that Damian genuinely thinks he has trauma because of heroes. In ab effort to get him to open up, Damian shares his own past, but Jon spends the entire evening comforting him!

Jon goes so far as to bring him home to the Kent Farm and the entire Kent family make it their mission to welcome him.

Clark, Jons father, even takes him aside and explains how he himself was adopted and there's a home here for him too if he wants it.

Damian got a little emotional over pie and the warmth of Jon beside him.

Is it any wonder that Damian forgets all about the DNA test he did?

Only for the results to come back one random evening and name Bruce Wayne, his father. Damian thinks it's a joke at first because there's no way.

He doesn't tell Jon and Billy that he found his dad and definitely doesn't mention who he is. Not yet.

Damian wants confirmation first. If Bruce Wayne is really his father and he wants nothing to do with him, he won't have lost anything, so there is no need to get them involved.

So he researched. Finding out his biological father adopted children was a blow. Damian wonders if Bruce even knew he existed, and if he had, would he have raised Damian?

Damian hopes he hadn't known. That the man hadn't abandoned him as well.

It takes a while, but Damian gets a day off and travels to Gotham. He couldn't find his fathers contact information or make an appointment, but through some sleuthing, he does find out that Bruce Wayne works on Thursdays at Wayne Enterprises. So Damian goes to the lobby and hopes for the best.

The receptionist is nice even if she looks at him like he's crazy when he tells her who he's looking for.

It takes an hour, but eventually, Mr Wayne does come down.

The man looks more serious than any of the photos Damian has seen of him, and he is taller than he imagined.

His father is polite as he asks why he is here, even while he stares at Damian like he is a ghost.

Damian just hands him the file he prepared ahead of time. The one filled with copies of the test results and what Damian has managed to cobble together of his personal history. His birth certificate, a news article about him being left at the hospital. His graduation photos with only Billy at his side.

Bruce takes the file and, with every moment, looks more and more emotionless. Damian fears that he will call him a liar, a fraud, accuse him of wanting money.

Bruce doesn't do any of those things. He clears his throat and asks Damian to follow him.

Damian is taken to a lab that is inexplicably in the building and asked to do another test. His cheek is swab, and so are his fathers, and they are given food while they wait.

Mr Wayne asks him about his life, his schooling, his plans, and Damian tries not to overthink as he answers.

The test comes back positive.

And Damian just collapses. Mr Wayne looks flabbergasted and haunted, but Damian is too busy keeping his sobs to himself to read too much into it.

"Did you know about me?"

"I didn't know you were alive, your mother said she had lost the baby and I don't know why she lied."

"You remember my mother?"

His father sighs. "You look just like her, Talia was one of the loves of my life, we were engaged a long time ago."

"Do you know how to get in contact with her?:

"She died, Damian, a few years after you were born."

"Oh." Damian knows he should feel something, but right now, he doesn't know what.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I think."

Bruce Wayne, his Dad, wraps him on a hug as he starts to cry.

"I wanted you, Damian, and I'm so sorry."

They stay like that for a long time.

Damian goes to dinner with his Dad and meets the rest of his family.

They are all welcoming even if Damian gets a bit overwhelmed with the sheer number of new family he meets.

He gravitates towards Cassandra because her quiet and calm demeanour is soothing in the chaos of the others' reactions.

Stephanie teases Bruce while Tim stares at him like a puzzle. Jason is gruff but welcoming while Dick Grayson seems to be trying to learn every detail of his life.

Duke hands him coffee when he mentions trying to finish med school. He takes it gratefully even while Alfred tuts about healthy sleep schedules.

He leaves on a bus after being fed and making a plan to meet them again soon in Fawcett city.

Damian tries to figure out how to tell Billy and Jon that he is a Wayne now, but somehow, he always gets interrupted.

Memorably, by an invasion that Billy had to attend to and Jon disappeared during.

His family also dissappears during said invasion. But Damian tries not to think about it.

He has school and balances three separate social lives to pay much attention to the odd behaviour of everyone in his life.

It all comes a head when he is kidnapped.

The Justice League is having a meeting when the video comes in.

Damian is strapped to a chair with a bloody nose while the villain reads of a list of demands and taunts to Superman 2.0 of all people.

The bats are murderous, both Supermen look pissed and Shazam shouts, "Damian!" As soon as the video begins.

"How do you know Damian?!" Jon is gaping at the other hero.

"He's my best friend, you Dick! Why is he getting kidnapped because of you!" Shazam is glaring at the kryptonitian.

"Because I'm dating him!" Jon defends himself.

"Oh my God, you're Jon!"

"And you're Billy!"

The two are staring at each other with dawning realisation. "Does Damian know he is dating the knock off Superman?"

Jon groans. "Not yet! I was hoping to tell him after he graduates. I didn't want to stress him out!"

"Suuuurrree because a kidnapping is so relaxing!" Billy taunts

"I didn't kidnap him!"

Batman slams the table. "Both of you shut up!"

The two turn on him. "What wrong with you?"

"I need to go rescue my son because apparently the two of you can't keep him safe!"

"YOUR SON!" Any bad blood Jon and Billy may have had was forgotten in the face of protecting Damian.

"It's new. I only found out recently."

"That's not good enough! He was alone in foster care for years!" Billy yells.

Jon just glares at the man he has known for years that so badly let down the man he loves.

"I know! But right now, we need to save him." Batman says while turning to track where the video came from.

They do manage to get Damian to safety all while arguing with eachother.

Jon scoops his boyfriend up as Batman and Shazam take down the kidnappers.

They all have a lot of explaining to do when Damian no longer has a concussion.

Jon apologies profusely for putting him in danger and only stops when Damian reveals all the stupid shit Billy used to pull when they were kids.

Jon hugs his boyfriend tightly and smugly suggests Damian stays with him until they sort out a safer apartment.

Batman and Shazam pout when Damian hesitatantly agrees.

The fact that he is the son of Batman doesn't change much, but Damian does end up as the medical officer for the Watchtower when he graduates and completes his internship.

He spends his days saving his family, even if his family is very clingy.

[zeropro]

Like, Starscream was messed up ever since Cryak. I absolutely love how you made a parallel between them two 'I will do anything to survive', almost a sort of curse where no matter how much you supposedly love someone, they are expendable to you and so the kindest thing you can do to someone you love is let them go, something Cryak didn't want to do to him. And why would she? She literally paid to have him onlined, for the specific purpose and she knew it was always on the table. And as far as it was implied it was something permissible for her to do. That fucks one up. "the relationship that should have been different, the most formative one - ultimately it was about consuming and exploiting and all the love was but a mask". The Trine had never met him not messed up. Like, he keeps manipulating people he cares about and he realizes he is not doing right by them and he likely even knows what it means to do better, but can he?

Skywarp already had messed up moral compass and some really repressed and internalized trauma from all his experiences in military + as a glorified ship engine. Like, his split loyalty was really something that made it difficult for not just Starscream but probably for TC too to fully rely on him (and he is the eldest!) after certain point. I feel like once it became apparent that there was a conflict, he didn't want to give up either on his trinemate or Megatron, and so in an attempt to keep both ended up picking Megatron, again and again bc it felt easier (especially as he did come from military background and while he is a troublemaker, he still likely structures his baseline understanding on 'correct' way around military hierarchies). And also Megatron was his hero and he knew him for a long time. He isn't used to introspection (and too much introspection would likely prevent him from functioning at all at this point) and seems to prefer overlooking things that could result in uncomfortable implications. Starscream really did instigate much of the conflicts with Megatron but, like, it doesn't seem like it came from nowhere. And even then, Was his treatment acceptable? But now Skywarp is metaphorically 'grounded' in reality without ability to warp around. He now realized that he had after certain point been enabling Megatron's horrible treatment of his mate and is now seems to be trying to do right by him but how exactly would it be when TC already left them (does Skywarp feel any resentment over TC leaving them even if he probably realizes why?) and Starscream is so distant?

Thundercracker feels the most ''innocent'' but like, I do not think he is exactly not complicit in the trine's messed up dynamics. There is a nice little thing going on with him where on one hand he on the more 'moral' side (at least by abysmal standards not just of Decepticons but mayhaps of Cybertron at large) of the coin and so he hesitates to enact cruelty and even occasionally protests it. He tries to dissuade Starscream from staying where it would hurt him, or from doing questionable thing. But. Even then he is mostly 'along with the flow, even if the flow takes him in directions he hates. As much as he tries to take care of those he loves, to do the right thing, he feels complacent in how he keeps many of his doubts to himself because of his many doubts and too often seems more like a bystander. It is almost like, he acts definitely but by the time he decides to take action, it may be too late. But what he could have done different, in the end? Like, it is not as bad as telling Starscream he deserved it or continuously pushing Skywarp away or being generally manipulative and abrasive. But like. I wonder if he feels deep inside he should have tried more to do what felt right instead of what felt 'safer'.

Thank you so much for this comment omg.

I wasn't sure how to share it since it's so long I cant even screenshot it in one go, so I figure I'd just post it as is.

It's so awesome seeing how you've picked up all the little pieces I've scattered about and are putting together the narrative. It's so encouraging to see the ideas getting across.

Works referenced in this post: [Trine: Origins series] [Skywarp's baggage] [The trine's ages confirmed] [Cycle of Abuse] [Skywarp's injury] [and] [subsequently] [being unable to warp around] [Starscream's accidental neglect] [of skywarp] [and distancing himself] [because of it] [Thundercracker's morality] [Starscream's abuse] [Thundercracker cutting Starscream off] [Thundercracker's resentment]

I really appreciate anon for also pointing out how Thundercracker, while seemingly the most innocent, is still complacent in how things got this bad.

Thanks so much for engaging with my brain rot ^^;; and to everyone as well, I read all the comments on the posts and even in the tags. Genuinely keeps me going, I am feral for my boys grr grr

You'll just have to trust me when I say, they do love each other, and I promise I'll put the trine back together again. :(

[speed-world]

[prev.]

“How are you enjoying yourself so far in my paradise, Y/N? Does my garden accommodate your every desire?”

You took a deep breath and patted the grass your arms were rested on as you were lounging on the edge of one of garden’s many pools. Taking a grape off the plate of sweet fruit provided by the sugar angels earlier, you observed it in your hand before answering.

“Honestly…I’m not sure how to feel, or more, of what I’m feeling is right. I love everything about your garden, Eternal Sugar Cookie. For once, ever since I came to this world, I’m at a place of peace where I can be to myself without the eyes of the Ancients or Dark Enchantress Cookie looming over me at every second. And yet…”

“Hmm?”

“I-I don’t know, it’s just—the Ancients have always been taking me with them whenever they journey to Beast-Yeast. Which, I guess they’re supposed to because of that deal, but every time I get unwillingly dragged into their conflicts that should have nothing to do with me. And the other Beasts I’ve met have made my life even harder; I swear they’re keeping watch on me too just like the Ancients! Of course, you’re a Beast too…b-but you’re different! Even though Hollyberry Cookie brought me along and it seems that she doesn’t want to be here, when I’m here, when I’m with you - Eternal Sugar - I feel free.”

“Oh Y/N, your kind words make my heart flutter! Whatever it is you wish, don’t hesitate to call on me, for I will grace you with everything you want here.”

She lifted up your chin to meet your eyes with hers as she bent over. It only took a few seconds for your face to turn as pink as Eternal Sugar Cookie’s hair.

“I’ll even keep Hollyberry Cookie and her company busy so that you can enjoy a much deserved rest without being disturbed.”

“T-t-thank you so much, E-Eternal Sugar. That really means a lot to me.”

Smiling and giggling, she waved you off as she flew away, leaving you to yourself. You sighed contently, relaxing in the pool with whatever you wanted only an ask away. You closed your eyes as you were getting ready to sleep…

??: “Hey, do you mind if I step in this pool with you? I promise I won’t be too much of a bother.”

“Yeah sure, this pool is pretty spacious, so just make yourself comf—“

As you opened your eyes, your heart nearly jumped out of you. You could only sit there with your jaw dropped in shock and horror as the cookie dipped into the pool next to you.

“Aww thank you, thank you, thank you!! Isn’t it so relaxing and peaceful here? No one to bother us, no one who will force us out of this delightful paradise~…”

“……..”

“No one to stop me~.”

“H-HE—!!”

You were immediately silenced with her hand on your mouth as she looked over you.

“I gotta say, in a way I feel sorry for you. That deal that was made with Dark Enchantress Cookie and those puny little Ancient “Heroes” reaaaaalllyyyyyy screwed you over in the long run. Can’t blame them though, they probably didn’t know about us Beasts at the time….probably, ehehehe~.”

You didn’t say anything and you didn’t struggle against her. Not like there was much you could’ve done anyways.

“With Sugar dealing with her one-sided love tragedy, I believe there’s more than enough time for us to “catch up,” what do you say, Y/N~?”

You didn’t respond, instead you tried to swing at her, only for her easily dodge and pin your arm behind your back.

“Oooo “hard to get,” I like this game~. We have eternity ahead of us, so let’s how long it takes for you to break~…”

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

sigh.

I need this out of my brain, I'm trying to focus on the fics I'm already writing, so I'm flinging this into the void

Au where Stan's born Stan Filbrick Pines, only child to Filbrick and Caryn Pines. He's not a super smart genius, but without Ford to compare to his life...

Still sucks.

He's not bullied for being the dumb twin, but he's still a jerk, still barely socializes positively with his peers, is desperate for connection but doesn't know how to change himself to be more likable to everyone around him. He's still bullied as a kid for being shrimpy and weak until he picks up boxing, still finds the Stan O' War, but it becomes a hang out spot for him to be by himself and draw instead of a focal point for his dreams of escapism.

But now that he's not getting pressured to be more like Ford he can focus on his own hobbies without too much shame.

Specifically drawing.

Starts writing his lil'Stan comic, grows a little older and dang :/ kinda embarrassing to have the character be just him, he'll give him a different name!

Like Stanley. No one will ever guess its an OC thats just him like this!

Grows a little older and his loneliness manifests as him giving his comic character (who's not him!) a friend, named..... Stanford. Stanford's everything Stanley isn't, smart (doesn't struggle in school like Stan), cool (people think his actions are amazing and not something to laugh at or dismiss), a hero everyone likes but is too focused on being a nerd to realize (Stan's the town's trouble child, and is very aware no one likes him). Its not Stan's ideal! Its not Stan twice! See, Stanford different, because, uh, he's got six fingers!

So Stan's got his Lil'Stans comic, starring the twins Stanley and Stanford, one who's just him and one who's everything Stan's not (and sort of wishes he was) and are the best of friends. Life goes on, Stan hits high school, draws and doesn't get the comparison that kills his creativeness but also still isn't a super genius like his cool OC Sixer. Hits seventeen and gets scouted for some prestigious art school.

Turns out Stan's got talent! He's pretty good! Just one thing!

They don't really like his comic style, they like his more realistic, detailed style more. Stan can get in, but he has to 'grow up' and leave his comics behind (or at least, that's what it feels like everyone else is telling him).

And Stan does it. He wants to go somewhere no one knows him, where he can hopefully find someone who doesn't scowl and grimace at all of his ideas, actually make friends. Writes a final farewell comic to his characters, where Stanley and Stanford have a (typical Teen) angsty falling out and Stanley rides off into the sunset to start his own adventure, and maybe find somewhere he belongs.

This does not happen, and while Stan graduates he's just as lonely as he was when he started, parents distant, brother someone he barely knows. Through a series of events Stan's more 'mature' work gets popular and he moves out to Gravity Falls for either inspiration or just to get away from it all. Doesn't matter.

What matters is he's been living his life, drawing stories based on all the weird things around him, when a man who looks eerily similar to him bursts into his living room, claims to be his twin, and is here to take Stan on an adventure to Save Everyone.

aka

Stan's childhood comics come to life, except specifically the twin brother he dreamed up, the evil villain he based off a chip when he was out of ideas, and a few minor characters (Fiddleford, various others, idk). The world of Lil'Stans' , now fully real, is seeping into the real world and Ford's come rescue his 'long lost' brother who ditched him ten years ago and who he's still angry with over it (Stan's a little peeved about it. He was seventeen! How was he supposed to know all his day dreams were real? or something? Actually whats happening?)

(Aka, I've seen a few fics about Ford being an only child and creating Stan in one way or another, what if it was the other way around? This idea slammed into my brain the other night out of nowhere. I've got nothing but the premise and i need it Out of my Mind)

[milkbean69]

I am having many thoughts about Bold! Clark Kent right now. The idea of bae being married to Lex luthor reluctantly, and Clark being down bad for this poor woman. Now I'm not a Lex girlie simply because I'm not a fan of psychotic narcissistic ceo tech bros, but I do love the idea of hero/villain romantic rivalry. Lex "aquired" bae through nefarious means simpily because he was down bad for bae and she didn't want his ass.

Now we have Clark coming in doing interviews on Lex at a gala and meets bae for the first time and he is just enamored. Also confused, why is this amazing woman with him, so he goes to interview her. Bae spills the beans on her and Lex's relationship because honestly she really don't give a fuck who knows, Clark is now like I gotta save her. But he's got to do it carefully because its Lex.

Now we got Clark as superman coming by more where bae is at, being all bold with her flirting and shit. Now when the media get there hands on this, their like sir!!!! this woman is married. It's low-key giving that one scene in Sinners with Sammie and Pearline, you know what the hell I'm talking about. When Pearline is like "I'm married by the way" and Sammie is like "Happily?", that's the energy its giving. Oh god could you imagine the rage Lex would be feeling when he finds out through the internet clips of Superman trying to put the moves on bae, it just gives him more reasons to hate him.

Now I'm a firm believer in Clark never indulging in cheating behavior whether he's the one doing it with his partner or being the side piece. But for this idk if it counts considering the way Lex forced bae into the relationship. I also don't know if bae would ever get physical simply based of of what Lex would do to her, or Clark because she does love him. And trust that bae does know Clark is Superman, she figured that out all on her own.

Bae would know simpily by touching Clark's chest and would be like wait???? I've felt this chest many times before. You mean to tell me that the man for has been hitting me up is the same cute dorky reporter from the daily planet. A clumsy man who can hardly look at me in the eyes without blushing, that Clark Kent.

@c-nstantine @prettyvintageafternoon @l0s3rd0wnt0wn

[ofekma]

Kris and Ralsei: slowly warming up (part 1)

Anyone who's been in the fandom for some time is probably aware of the 'tea theory' by now, the theory that the more hp someone gets from another character's tea, the more they like them.

Which I can agree with for the most part, except for a few things, like the fact that feelings can be complicated and are not easily measured by numbers.

Also, it led to the (im)famous "Kris hates Ralsei" conclusion.

But you know, this conclusion didn't stem just from the tea theory.

Because while Kris and Ralsei have moments like this with Susie:

Every moment Kris and Ralsei have seem to be initiated by us or the game, and often feels a little awkward more than genuine.

Not only that, but Kris chooses Susie over Ralsei every chance they have.

But you know, they never show dislike towards Ralsei either. As early as chapter two Kris managed to voice their opinion through the way they say the choices we make for them, and let their true feelings shine through:

But no one ever pointed out that Kris sounded or looked disgusted or hateful whenever we made them say anything nice to Ralsei.

I think that it's more like they haven't emoted at all, just let us move them and talk through them like a puppet.

Kris didn't mind being nice to Ralsei (though I can't be sure about the hugs) before, just like they didn't mind his tea.

They just didn't love it.

And it makes sense, because Kris met Ralsei yesterday, and they probably didn't see themselves in him the same way they did with Susie.

Of course, you can befriend someone in the span of a day, like Susie did with Lancer and Ralsei.

So why did it take Kris more time to warm up to him, when Ralsei has been nothing but sweet and accommodating to them this entire time?

I can think of two main reasons:

1. The (heart shaped) elephant in the room

Everyone has probably talked about it before, the relationship between Ralsei and the player.

Does he like Kris? Does he like us? Who knows.

Kris didn't know at first either, I think.

The first thing Ralsei did when we first met him was tell us about our role as heroes of the prophecy.

Is Ralsei so accommodating to Kris or to the thing controlling them?

Is Kris the first hero of the prophecy, or is it us, who are calling all the shots?

Out of all the relationships Kris has in the game (exluding weird route Noelle), the one that got hurt the most by our presence in the game is the one of Kris and Ralsei.

Think about it, ever since the first chapter he felt comfortable enough to call out Susie for her violence.

But with Kris he did nothing but gently suggest that we be nice to everyone, then follow our decisions blindly. Nothing we can do to Ralsei will make him like us any less.

Throwing his manual? that's alright.

Not saying anything after he poured his heart to you? Well, he likes you all the same.

He always offers us a choice

He didn't want himself and Susie to be able to act on their own so Kris (or us?) wouldn't feel left out

And if you tell him to keep smiling...

"After all, that's what YOU want, isn't it?"

I really don't think that he's talking to Kris when he's saying this.

Ralsei says that our choices matter, but no choice we can take can make him go against us. How can Kris sees Ralsei' liking them as genuine when he's so busy fawning and appeasing the eldritch horror possessing them?

This lack of us as a barrier is also one of the reasons why Susie and Ralsei connect so well.

Of course, I'm pretty sure that Ralsei does like and care about Kris as a person and not just as a vessel.

Look at their room, for example.

The trophies on the side of the bed? the stars on the wall? the colors of the room? the closet full of clothes where "you can wear whatever you want"?

That feels like a room Kris, personally, might actually want.

Ralsei comforting Kris post-spamton-neo battle if we say we're not fine

But also if we say that we are, because he can see that Kris is not fine. He even offers to bake them a cake in one of the flavors we know that THEY like.

And if you let Kris comfort Ralsei, he compliments their piano playing.

Which look like a small detail, but the fact that this is something Kris independently of us, and the fact that he only says it if we let him and Kris get closer, instead of asking him to do what WE want (the "keep smiling" option), all give evidence that even if many of Ralsei's actions were meant to appease us, he cares about Kris as a person and as a friend too or even more.

And I think that Kris realized it too as they got to know him better.

That's when they decide to stop let us do whatever we want about him.

But hey, literally everyone talked about the Kris-Ralsei-Player dynamic before, so let's move to the second reason to why Kris didn't jump straight to friendship with Ralsei right away:

2. The problem of the Dreemurr family

[azalea-blooming]

Tim Drake's reason for helping isn't rooted in trauma. That's why most people think it doesn't exist. There isn't a clearly defined moment that can lead to a life of crime-fighting. This is completely fine because personal tragedy is not the only motivation a character can have.

Tim Drake's motivation is "I saw a problem and when I went to the adults, they told me to fix it myself"

His motivation is that a hero, Batman, was becoming a danger to the people, and he thought that was wrong. His original intentions had nothing to do with becoming a vigilante himself. He went to Dick Grayson, who he perceived as a responsible adult, and asked him to fix the problem. You know. Like what we teach kids to do- "if you see a problem, tell a responsible adult, and the adult will help."

Tim Drake went to an adult for help (with no intention of becoming a hero, I feel the need to reiterate) and said adult was not in a good place emotionally. This isn't Dick's fault and it isn't Tim's fault, either. It did, however, mean that Dick chose to bring Tim to a different responsible adult- Alfred- and he brought up making Tim Robin.

Tim Drake has a character-reason to serve Gotham and it's people.

It's just not an obvious reason. His reason is that he prioritizes others over himself. It's that he constantly wants to help. It's that because he was constantly moved around as a child, his only concrete home was Gotham and he grew attached to it. His reason is that he saw people suffering and he wanted to help them.

He literally says it himself. "Gotham needs Batman, and Batman needs Robin." Is this right? Who knows. But Tim believes it, he believes that Batman helps Gotham. When Batman stops helping Gotham, Tim thinks this is a problem and he sets out to fix it because no one else has. It isn't out of some desire to be a hero or to work with his hero, it's that the 'hero' is hurting people and no one has stopped him.

Just because his motivation for hero-ing and his relationship with justice isn't rooted in tragedy doesn't mean it doesn't exist or is somehow less important than other motivations.

Tim Drake isn't Tim Drake if he does not prioritize Gotham above all. He isn't Tim Drake if he doesn't think everyone else matters more than he does. He isn't Tim Drake if he doesn't think his value is inherently tied to how helpful he can be.

And the only people who "prop up" Tim's hurt are Tim fans. Everyone else ignores it. Because of this, when his hurt is acknowledged at all, it feels "propped up." The idea that multiple people's hurt can and do matter is strangely alien in this fandom.

I also feel the need to mention that yeah, Tim doesn't have a reason to be a hero if Jason doesn't die, but like. That's because if Jason doesn't die then Batman doesn't get more violent and there is literally no problem to fix. Things would continue as they were. Tim wants to help, always, and he wouldn't be helping if he inserted himself into the family. At least that's what Tim would think. Tim became a hero to help Gotham. If he doesn't think it would help Gotham he wouldn't do it.

people who act like batman isn't "judge jury and executioner" because he doesn't kill people are like. genuinely so funny to me because. they're very obviously thinking of "executioner" as like. the stereotypical guy with axe who chops people heads off, and not, yknow, the literal definition of the idiom itself, which is about someone who has the ability to judge and then subsequently punish someone unilaterally. which is quite literally what batman does.

he has the ability to decide what is a "crime" to him, he is the one who decides whether people are guilty of those crimes, and he is the one who executes their punishment. the severity of the punishment doesn't matter - he is unaccountable to anyone else, and indeed is allowed to commit as many crimes as needed to reach his arbitrary ideal of "justice."

the ideal of batman is this: a man who is so fundamentally changed by an act of senseless violence that he takes it upon himself to fight back against the rot and corruption in the world. he does this not through political activism, not through ridding himself of his wealth in favor of a greater good, not through community outreach, but through an individualistic fantasy of being a hero.

and you'll say: charlie, but he does do that !!! he donates his money all the time, he funds social programs, hospitals, orphanages, gets people jobs -

and i will say this: so why don't things get better?

because here's the base of it. gotham, at its core, can't get better. no matter what bruce wayne does, there will always be more crime, more villains, more death, more people for batman to beat up in back alleys. because that's what sells.

reoffending rates don't matter in gotham, prison reform doesn't matter in gotham, what actually causes crime doesn't matter in gotham because that doesn't sell books.

and so here it is; dc has unintentionally created a world where batman can't win, but can't be wrong, and where thousands of nameless, faceless, only-created-to-die civilians must be pushed into the meat grinder that is gotham, to fuel bruce wayne's angst and vindicate his constant, tireless, noble fight against the forces of evil.

and then: a new robin, who is poor and who's parents are dead or gone because of this cycle; who is happy go-lucky and hated by editors and fans for being robin, for not being dick grayson, for being poor.

and this robin is written, unintentionally or not, to be angry at the ways in which batman's (the narrative's) idea of justice is detached from its victims. bruce seems perfectly fine to allow countless unnamed women to be at risk from garzonas in his home country, yet robin is the one who is portrayed as irrational and violent.

this robin is not detached from gotham in the way bruce wayne is: this robin is a product of gotham.

(and here's the thing. you can't punch aids. you can't fight a disease with colorful fights and nifty gadgets. and how would robin dying from aids add to batman's story; it would call into question the systemic changes that haven't been made in gotham. how does a child get aids, in batman's city?)

so robin dies, and then bruce (the narrative) spends the next couple of decades blaming it on him. it is jason's fault; he was reckless, he just ran in, he thought it was all a game. if only bruce had seen what was coming, if only he could have known that jason wasn't rich enough or smart enough or liked enough to be robin.

batman gets a little more violent, a little more self destructive. he hurts people more and almost (!!) kills a couple guys. this is bad because it's self destructive and "not who he is." it is not bad because batman should not be able to just beat people up when he's angry.

and then he gets a shiny new robin - who is all the things jason "wasn't": rich and smart and rational and he doesn't put who batman is into question. batman and robin are partners, and jason is a grave and a cautionary tale, and (crucially here) never right.

the joker kills thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be killed.

batman beats up thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be criminals.

and then jason comes back, and nothing has changed. there is a batman and a (shiny! rich!) robin and the joker kills thousands. (because it sells)

and jason is angry - he has been left unavenged - his death has meant nothing, just as willis' had, just as catherine's had, just as gloria's had, just as -

thousands. ten of thousands. hundreds of thousands. written to be killed.

but one of them gets to come back.

and he is angry - not only at the joker, but at bruce (the narrative) - because why is the joker still alive (when thousands-)

here is the thing - jason todd is right. not because the death penalty is good, not because criminals deserve to die, not because of everything he says -

but because of what he calls into question. why is the joker alive?

because he sells books.

and dc has written a masterful character, through no fault of their own, because jason knows what is wrong, and he knows who is at fault - batman. (the narrative)

so the argument that bruce can't kill because he's not judge jury and executioner; the argument that jason is a cop or that jason is insane or that jason is in the wrong here; they hold no weight.

batman can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

and jason can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

so he will beg and plead and grovel - he will betray everything that is himself, he will forsake his family and his city and kill himself - just so that bruce (the narrative) will let the joker die.

he was condemned to death by an audience, and after he came back he has spent his whole life looking us in the eyes and screaming, asking, pleading; why is the joker still alive?

why are thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands (the number doesn't matter, see, because they're just a number. not people. not real.) why are we expendable for his story? why did i have to die just for nothing to change?

and the answer is money. and the answer is the batman can never be wrong. and the answer is shitty writing. and the answer is -

nothing jason can ever change.

which is the worst of it all. he is a victim with no power, and no one else in the world can see it. he is raging and crying and screaming at his father and his writers and you - and it doesn't matter. jason doesn't matter. and he knows it.

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Hello autor-nim!! How are u?

Can you write a piece where baku had a affair with baekjin young sister and after S2 last episode, he founds that she have his baby 🥹🫰🏻

Title: "Yours."

Pairing: Humin x Baekjin's Younger Sister Setting: Post-Season 2 of Weak Hero Class 2

beakjin is still alive ok 😭

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

Baekjin was gone.

Not dead. Not missing. Just... quiet.

After the war that burned through the Union like wildfire, most of the pieces were still being picked up. Humin had disappeared from the center of it all, floating on the edge of what was once a battlefield, haunted but alive.

It had been three months since everything collapsed. Three months since the last time he’d seen her.

Baekjin’s little sister.

The one girl he should’ve stayed away from. The one mistake he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

It had been an accident, at first. Or that’s what he told himself. Late nights studying in the same library, accidental glances, fingers brushing when she handed him a pen. The tension had started soft, sweet — then it bloomed into fire.

Their affair had been a secret. No one could know. Especially not Baekjin.

But even then, it hadn’t felt like an affair. It had felt... real. Like the first good thing Humin had touched in a long, long time.

So when he opened the door that night, only to see her standing there with fear in her eyes and a hand protectively placed over her stomach, something inside him cracked.

"Humin," she breathed. "I need to tell you something."

He said nothing. Just stared at her — at her pale face, trembling fingers, the way she kept glancing down at herself like she was ashamed of what she carried.

Then the truth dropped.

"I'm pregnant."

The world spun.

"It's yours."

Silence. Heavy. Crushing. Humin didn’t move.

His throat worked, but no words came out.

She kept going. "I didn’t know at first. But I’ve been to the doctor. It’s... I’m almost three months."

"Three months," he echoed hollowly.

That lined up. Right before the final fight. The week where things had spiraled out of control. The night she snuck into his room with tear-streaked cheeks and a desperate kiss that turned into hours tangled in sweat and love and everything they refused to name.

He sat down. Hard. Like his knees couldn’t hold him.

"Baekjin doesn’t know," she added, voice soft. "Nobody does. Only you now."

"Why tell me now?"

Her chin trembled. "Because I can’t do this without you. And I didn’t want to hide it anymore. I know what we had wasn’t meant to last, but—"

"Don’t say that."

She blinked.

Humin looked up at her, something raw flickering behind his eyes. "Don’t say it wasn’t meant to last."

He stood, slowly. Walked toward her. Stopped just in front of her like he was afraid to touch her now. Like she might shatter.

"Are you scared?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.

She nodded. "I’m terrified."

"Me too."

And then, finally, he reached out — hand resting on her stomach, where his child grew. His. Not just hers.

A small, involuntary sound escaped her lips. Relief. Pain. Love.

"I don’t know how to do this," he murmured. "But I’m not walking away."

She looked at him, lip trembling, eyes shining.

"What about Baekjin?"

His jaw clenched. "That’s going to be a war. But I’ll take it. I’ll take all of it — him, the judgment, the fallout. Because this..." he looked down again at her stomach, "...this matters more."

And then he kissed her. Like it was the first time all over again. Slow, reverent, his fingers slipping into her hair, pulling her closer until the air between them melted.

They sat on his couch after that. Wrapped in a quiet that felt like safety.

She told him about her symptoms. The nausea. The doctor’s visits. The way she talked to the baby sometimes when she was alone, just to make herself feel less scared.

He listened.

And then, as the night stretched long, Humin reached out again — this time to her face.

"Let me take care of you."

"You already are," she whispered.

But he meant more.

He pulled her gently onto his lap, letting her settle against him. Kissing her again, slow and deep, like she was something sacred.

And when they undressed — careful and quiet — it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was full of unspoken promises.

She gasped when he entered her, fingers gripping his shoulders, and he held her tightly like she was something he never wanted to lose again.

The pace was slow. Reverent. Their foreheads pressed together, breaths shared, soft moans and shuddering whispers echoing through the quiet room.

"Mine," he murmured, over and over again. "Mine. Mine."

And she clung to him, heart wide open.

Because she was.

And so was he.

Outside, the world might explode again. Baekjin might find out. Fists might fly.

But in this moment, wrapped in soft sheets and each other’s arms, they were just Humin and the girl he couldn’t let go of.

The girl carrying his child.

His.

Forever.

naurrrr i didn't know where to put a Hongdae joke 😭

[demon-at-peace]

DC + DP

Danny had been working with the Justice League for the last few years. He liked working with the Bats the best. They were stunning really, powerless yet some of the most effective heroes out there. They moved like ghosts, and not his type of ghost.

But they were just allies, coworkers at most, they worked together occasionally, Danny would help out when he could. the bats would smile and vanish into the night. They were coworkers, so really why were they over reacting.

He needed a safe house, because his cover was blown. He'd left Amity in a rush, bleeding, and with more broken bones than he'd have wished. But he was fine.

except apparently the Bats disagreed. Batman himself was looking at him in horror, his mouth slightly agape. The collection of Birds looked smaller, all with slightly varying expressions.

"Hi," Danny says weakly looking over the city, they'd agreed to meet at an abandoned observatory, their general meeting place. "Sorry for the intrusion, but I need a place to stay.." he hoped they'd say yes. He couldn't reach out to the other league members, they wouldn't understand.

But the Bats might, they too had a reputation of being dangerous, and the general public didn't know how to feel about them. Maybe they'd understand, and if not it would be better than going to Superman or something.

"What happened to you?" His voice sounds so shocked and worried, practically dripping with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Danny waves his hand wincing, he's out of suit, wearing jeans and a tee shirt, blood drips through them, radioactive green, with some barely noticeable red specks. Is it just him or is the room really blurry?

"Sure," Red Hoods voice drips with sarcasm, "Lets get you to the med bay," Danny startles at that.

"Med bay?" he stammers "I hardly need medical attention?" he laughs and then coughs some blood up. "I just need a place, for a day, I promise I'll be gone by morning?" He hopes they say yes.

"Phantom you need professional medical attention," Robin scolds him.

"I really don't," He protests tensing at the idea of a hospital, "You're overreacting."

"Phantom, you look like your about to pass out?" Red Hood scoffs, at least Danny thinks he does it's rather hard to tell with the helmet.

"That's because I haven't slept in like forever" He rolls his eyes, "I just need rest honestly." He crosses his arms, ignoring the spinning lights..

Shit why is everything spinning, he thinks he hears someone shout "Phantom!" Really they're overreacting he thinks as it fades to black.

"

I'm back? sorry, I'm a moron.

[arcade-confetti]

Like literally I would absolutely take a boring or nothingburger Jaybin over anger violence route they keep going with like I cannot stress this enough