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

[nightingale-prompts]

Phantom is so Moody

"I don't even understand what I am. I'm a clone so I can't age. But what does it even mean to be a clone? I'm not 100% Superman but I'm still nit like him or Lex? I wasn't born like a normal person so does that mean I don't have a soul?" Kon ranted.

Danny the multi-dimensional godlike being the team had contracted into being their aid slowly shuffled from under his mountain of blankets and pillows and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" He drawled lazily. "Of course you have a soul.

"But I'm like artificially made in a lab." Kon retorted.

"And? So what? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" Danny challenged " Hey stupid, everything has a soul. You, your friends, animals, a tree, a fucking blade of grass, even a kid's toy. If it has energy it has a soul. I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean literally. Souls are a real tangible thing and I will eat your soul if you don't put some food on my sacrificial altar. Also, get therapy."

Kon much like the others had gotten used to Danny. He was mostly all bark and no bite.

As Kon headed to the kitchen to get the god his post-nap snack he heard Danny speak again.

"Also, you can age. Who told you that you couldn't? Age isn't anything but the slow decay of atoms. You are aging. You just aren't changing because your body is so new. Given enough years it'll start to show. Then you'll be no different from anyone else. Granted Superman's race also grows differently. You are so fucking dramatic. You are fine the way you are." The godling huffed, "Ancients, you guys are annoying. You treat existence like it's torture and you'll bearly understand how blessed you are to exist simply because of how un-ideal it is. Look shit sucks, it sucks most of the time but human suffering is caused by humans. You are torturing yourself with all these what-ifs and angst. Just stop caring."

Danny wasn't saying all this to be comforting. He rarely does stuff like that. If anything he was ambivalent to Kon. It still made him feel better though. One thing you could trust about Danny was that he was honest. He could even be helpful considering his job was to be a living encyclopedia of information from beyond the pale. He has always been an asset if you can wake him up from his days long naps.

****

"You sleep all the time." Raven complained.

The Titans were here this time. They needed something from Danny. Something about having to seal a threat away.

"Just death being shy." Danny mumbled curling up on his raised platform. "Now go away."

Raven pulled out a smudge stick of white sage when Nightwing silently held up a hand to stop her.

"Phantom, look we need your help. This issue needs your assistance. We just want info on how to seal this threat properly." Nightwing said.

"Ask Constantine."Danny whined back as he shuffled deeper into his blanket cocoon.

"Unfortunately he can't help. This is Darkseid—"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Immediately he was wide awake. You see there are few things to stir Phantom to his full attention. He isn't inactive out of pure laziness. He lets the hero do their thing and he helps when he thinks it's appropriate. But he will not let anything or anyone harm the planet

*****

"He really doesn't like people," Impulse whispered to Aqualad.

"I still don't understand how the Justice League managed to get in contact with him let alone sign a contract with him. " Aqualad answered.

"Flash said he was pretty easy to convince. Hell he said that Phantom was so docile he let Wonder Woman carry him around. Now he'll practically snap of your hand if you touch him."

"Emm...think about it he must have just been really weak back then. If he was injured badly enough maybe he—"

"Stop talking."

*****

"I still don't trust you. What is your game?" Raven said sternly.

A being with origins like Phantom couldn't really be helping them out of the kindness of his heart. What did he gain from this contract.

"You assume you are worth games."

"Were you sent by my father?"

"Your father, Trigon? That nuisance? A petty demon like that having any say over me? I'd crush him if I ever saw him. He claims to have conquered a billion worlds. That alone makes me want to destroy him. No one OWNS a world. If anything I own all worlds. No one touches my universe, all universes are mine. And if people would just stop touching my stuff I wouldn't be here." Phantom growled furiously.

"So you are just like him." Raven hissed in anger.

"Like I said. I own it. It is my domain. My realm. So no one can destroy it. No one can control it. I make it. Every star, every planet, every person is a product of chaos. It is the universal law. I keep my chaos in check. Trigon, Darkseid, Anti-Monitor—I don't care. If they touch what is mine I will destroy them."

"Anti-Monitor?"

Phantom curled his lip in anger then relaxed.

"He is someone you don't need to be concerned about. Not anymore." Phantom sighed. "Just know; I don't care what you think of me. I only care about keeping things the way they should be. I'd prefer if you didn't trust me."

Raven narrowed her eyes in thought before she relaxed. Then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"No. I think I can trust you."

Phantom immediately frowned. This wasn't the response he wanted.

"I think you are doing this on purpose. I think you want us to dislike you." Raven teased "Phantom do you perhaps have a heart?"

Phantom just sighed, his cheeks were greenish hue. He was blushing. Then went back to his dais to sleep.

****

Phantom was certainly a prickly guy. He was sweet deep down. Everyone could tell after a while. It didn't help that Wonder Woman always gave as good as she got.

"Answer the question Phantom. No cryptic riddles either." She said climbing the dias.

Phantom scrambled to escape as she grabbed him by the ankle and held him upside down.

"That's not fair! Kronos said I didn't have to answer this one. I have permission to tell you wherever I feel like."

"Oh? Then how about not having snacks on your offering plate? We'll burn nothing but vegetables until you tell me."

"How dare you! That's child abuse. You'll be starving me."

"You don't even need to eat."

"I still taste everything you burn. That's force-feeding. That's bad too."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Phantom grumbled "Trevor Barnes...didn't pass over yet. He waits for you in the realms between. You shouldn't know that though. He doesn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't he—"

"Because he wants you to live for yourself. He wants you to love again. You have a long life ahead of you and he didn't want to hold you back with his memory. Although he contradicted himself because he still wants you to think of him fondly."

Phantom phased through Diana's grasp and retreated to his lair.

****

Phantom was like a stray cat or maybe a spoiled one. He was wary of most people.

But even the most moody cat likes at least one person.

"Phantom I—"

"What do you need?"

Tim had entered the chamber only half expecting Phantom to be awake. Though Phantom was always awake when Tim entered. He guessed he was lucky since he didn't have talk to empty space.

"Eh, nothing. I got put on sacrifice duty. I brought some Bat Burger and cookies from home. I'm warning you now that Wonder Woman said you have to eat a serving of vegetables. So I'm burning them first." Tim placed the steamed vegetables on the offering plate and before he tossed them into the green fire he felt the cold hand of Phantom wrap around him.

"Don't." He said softly.

"It's just broccoli and cauliflower," Tim said still putting it on the electrum disk.

"Don't wanna," Phantom whined petulantly holding Tim in place. His head buried in his shoulder.

"You big baby." Tim sighed.

If anyone saw this interaction they'd be disgusted. The oh-so-great and moody god is l acting like a soft and pitiful little guy. Phantom seemed to have such a unique fascination with Red Robin. To the point he acts completely different if Tim was in the room.

"Two-faced." Kon mumbled as he watched Phantom readily answered Red Robin's every question without complaint.

"He's always like that," Tim said afterward " It's probably because I was the one to help form the contract with him when he was summoned here. The League treated him like a threat when it wasn't his fault he was here. He just wants to keep his distance but he is the same age as us."

"He is?" Kon asked astonished.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I don't remember if you've ever been asked this, has any Gothamite shipped Danny the Menace with Phantom like BatBruce?

"Did you hear?" A girl whispered to her friends, taking glances at Danny. He had half the mind to tell them they weren't being subtle with their gossiping about him but he was a little curious to see what new rumors were going around this time.

A few months ago, the hottest rumor was that he apparently tricked three students into following him into the sewers as a prank. He fist fought Killer Croc after the criminal came upon them mid prank, outrage the man ruined his hard work.

What no one knew was that Danny had gone into the sewers to map them out, and the three students followed him. He thinks they wanted to blackmail him or something. Instead, the three idiots were making such a ruckus that Killer Croc found them. He had to defend himself and the three idiots in the heat of the moment.

It was his luck that Killer Croc stepped on his wet map - he liked to map things out with a fancy quill and ink- and Danny had shouted, "You stupid idiot! You ruined everything!"

The three idiots had wrongly assumed he ran at the mountain of scaled muscles because of his map. Him winning and then turning to them with bloody knuckles, rage filled eyes, and a sharp grin had only made them think he planned this.

They had run home screaming that Danny was planning on killing them.

It was hilarious how many people jumped out of his way when he walked down the hallway the following days after that.

"Apparently, Phantom asked out Wayne-Fenton, and he was rejected," the girl reveals with a gasp. It's quickly followed by her own friends gasping loudly, too. "He told the Star of Gotham he wasn't good enough"

"Ugh, who does Wayne-Fenton think he is!? Just because he has swooping hair?!"

"Or that he has blue bedroom eyes and a moody demeanor!"

"And so what, if he looks good in anything he wears!?"

"I saw him in the gym once. Washboard abs. Sculpture biceps, and did I mention the abs?! He makes me sick!"

Danny rolls his eyes. So it wasn't a new hot rumor. Just a bunch of people thinking him uncool and attractive again. He picks up his tray and marches out the cafeteria, ignoring the looks that various people sent him.

Its odd to be both the hottest boy in their grade and the most disliked. But he sure the this will in time pass too. He'll just go sit outside on a hill and draw constellations by memory over the city. He misses clear skies so much....

When Danny leaves, he isn't around for various people to hear the gossiping girls and suddenly realizes how attractive he is. How could they not see it? I mean, the guy rejected The Star of Gotham! Phantom is literally one of the hottest beings in the world. They know because Phantom was rank number three in Top hottest Teen Heros.

All the girls and a good chunk of the boys had the sudden realization that.....Danny Fenton-Wayne was so hot he even made ghost blush. Wow.

Phantom receives a lot of "Emergency HeartBreak Kits" from well meaning teenager all over Gotham. A few even tried to consult him by patting his back and revealing that Fenton-Wayne held the hearts of all adolescents in the city, and all adolescents in the city only held Fenton-Wayne's pity.

Unlike his adoptive father, Fenton-Wayne was the forbidden fruit too poisonous to touch. Oh, but we're people tempted to look.

Danny graduated Gotham Academy without a single romantic relationship. No one was good enough for him

(Danny was crying on Alfred's shoulder. "Am I ugly? You have to be honest")

[syrecjh]

──★ ˙ ̟✧˖°🌷First Steps

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || husband katsuki bakugo x wife reader, pure fluff

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The house is quiet except for the soft sound of your daughter’s giggles as she stands unsteadily on her little feet. Her tiny hands grip the edge of the couch, and her eyes, wide with wonder and a touch of determination, are fixed on her father. Katsuki kneels in front of her, his intense gaze softened by affection, encouraging her with a quiet “You got this, princess.”

You watch from the other side of the room, your heart swelling as your daughter takes the first shaky steps. She stumbles, her little legs wobbly, and for a moment, you hold your breath, afraid she might fall. But then, just as she does, Katsuki is there, quick as lightning, arms open wide.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with that familiar, tender strength that only comes out when he’s with his family.

Your daughter reaches for him, her chubby hands outstretched as if she knows exactly who she wants to go to. She totters forward, barely catching her balance as she shuffles those first precious steps toward him. And then, with a proud grin breaking across his face, your husband catches her mid-stumble, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around effortlessly.

“She did it,” he whispers under his breath, eyes glinting with pure pride, his chest puffing up like a lion showing off his cub. You see the moment his tough exterior cracks, just for a second, as he presses his lips to her soft cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he says, voice a little rough, but filled with warmth you know he rarely shows anyone else. “Told you she’d be tough.”

Your daughter, caught up in the moment, laughs, her baby giggles echoing through the room, and Bakugo holds her a little tighter. She’s so small in his arms, and yet, to him, she’s everything. His hand rests on her back as he sways gently, swiping away a stray lock of hair from her forehead as she gazes up at him with adoration.

You can’t help but smile, feeling a little teary-eyed as you watch your family in this beautiful, perfect moment. Katsuki, your husband notices you watching and glances at you over her head, his lips curling into a rare, soft smile. The intensity of his usual persona is nowhere to be found here. It’s just him, your daughter, and the quiet love he carries for the two of you.

“You saw that, right?” he asks, voice lowering but still full of excitement. “She’s gonna be a hell of a hero one day.”

You chuckle softly, walking over and sitting beside him. “You’re right. She’s got your fire, Katsuki.”

He doesn’t reply, just holds his daughter a little tighter, as if he wants to keep her in his arms forever. But you can see it in his eyes—he’s already imagining all the things she’ll do, all the ways she’ll grow and become even stronger. And as he presses a kiss to her head, you feel the weight of that future, one where the three of you face it together, every step of the way.

He looks at you once more, this time with a tenderness that’s hard to put into words, his gaze softening in the way it only does when he’s truly at peace.

“She’s perfect,” he says simply, but it’s enough. Because you know exactly what he means.

And just like that, with your daughter safely in his arms, he’s ready to face the world as a father—a protector, a guide, and above all, someone who will never let her fall without catching her first.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[vierranliveshere]

Huge respect to every doctor who has an appropriate goals of care discussion, but guys like this are the easy ones. When what the patient wants, what the family wants and what is medically possible are aligned, it's easy to be the hero.

Here's another case: same diagnoses, heart and kidney failure, only, this patient isn't in his eighties, he's sixty-five. Replace that supportive wife and daughter with a case manager through a charity, because he doesn't have anyone else. And he's not quietly dignified, he does not want to go gentle into that good night, he's furious with the world for putting him in this situation, and how could we ask him not to be, it's an objectively awful situation.

His goal is to walk again. He hasn't been strong enough to sit up on his own for three years.

He does the dialysis thing. He works so, so hard in his physical therapy. And it doesn't matter, because he can't stay out of the hospital long enough to get stronger. When someone has had kidney failure and needed dialysis for long enough, the sites for dialysis to be done start to fail. The heart's electrical system shuts down under the load and now he needs a pacemaker. All the complications multiply on themselves with infections and pulmonary edema and a dozen other crises. The cycle of hospitalizations and treatments and side effects is miserable.

And he's so alone, and he's so angry at the unfairness of it all, and he still wants so badly to live.

Now what do you do?

A doctor discovers an important question patients should be asked

This patient isn’t usually mine, but today I’m covering for my partner in our family-practice office, so he has been slipped into my schedule.

Reading his chart, I have an ominous feeling that this visit won’t be simple.

A tall, lanky man with an air of quiet dignity, he is 88. His legs are swollen, and merely talking makes him short of breath.

He suffers from both congestive heart failure and renal failure. It’s a medical Catch-22: When one condition is treated and gets better, the other condition gets worse. His past year has been an endless cycle of medication adjustments carried out by dueling specialists and punctuated by emergency-room visits and hospitalizations.

Hemodialysis would break the medical stalemate, but my patient flatly refuses it. Given his frail health, and the discomfort and inconvenience involved, I can’t blame him.

Now his cardiologist has referred him back to us, his primary-care providers. Why send him here and not to the ER? I wonder fleetingly.

With us is his daughter, who has driven from Philadelphia, an hour away. She seems dutiful but wary, awaiting the clinical wisdom of yet another doctor.

After 30 years of practice, I know that I can’t possibly solve this man’s medical conundrum.

A cardiologist and a nephrologist haven’t been able to help him, I reflect,so how can I? I’m a family doctor, not a magician. I can send him back to the ER, and they’ll admit him to the hospital. But that will just continue the cycle… .

Still, my first instinct is to do something to improve the functioning of his heart and kidneys. I start mulling over the possibilities, knowing all the while that it’s useless to try.

Then I remember a visiting palliative-care physician’s words about caring for the fragile elderly: “We forget to ask patients what they want from their care. What are their goals?”

I pause, then look this frail, dignified man in the eye.

“What are your goals for your care?” I ask. “How can I help you?”

The patient’s desire

My intuition tells me that he, like many patients in their 80s, harbors a fund of hard-won wisdom.

He won’t ask me to fix his kidneys or his heart, I think. He’ll say something noble and poignant: “I’d like to see my great-granddaughter get married next spring,” or “Help me to live long enough so that my wife and I can celebrate our 60th wedding anniversary.”

His daughter, looking tense, also faces her father and waits.

“I would like to be able to walk without falling,” he says. “Falling is horrible.”

This catches me off guard.

That’s all?

But it makes perfect sense. With challenging medical conditions commanding his caregivers’ attention, something as simple as walking is easily overlooked.

A wonderful geriatric nurse practitioner’s words come to mind: “Our goal for younger people is to help them live long and healthy lives; our goal for older patients should be to maximize their function.”

Suddenly I feel that I may be able to help, after all.

“We can order physical therapy — and there’s no need to admit you to the hospital for that,” I suggest, unsure of how this will go over.

He smiles. His daughter sighs with relief.

“He really wants to stay at home,” she says matter-of-factly.

As new as our doctor-patient relationship is, I feel emboldened to tackle the big, unspoken question looming over us.

“I know that you’ve decided against dialysis, and I can understand your decision,” I say. “And with your heart failure getting worse, your health is unlikely to improve.”

He nods.

“We have services designed to help keep you comfortable for whatever time you have left,” I venture. “And you could stay at home.”

Again, his daughter looks relieved. And he seems … well … surprisingly fine with the plan.

I call our hospice service, arranging for a nurse to visit him later today to set up physical therapy and to begin plans to help him to stay comfortable — at home.

Back home

Although I never see him again, over the next few months I sign the order forms faxed by his hospice nurses. I speak once with his granddaughter. It’s somewhat hard on his wife to have him die at home, she says, but he’s adamant that he wants to stay there.

A faxed request for sublingual morphine (used in the terminal stages of dying) prompts me to call to check up on him.

The nurse confirms that he is near death.

I feel a twinge of misgiving: Is his family happy with the process that I set in place? Does our one brief encounter qualify me to be his primary-care provider? Should I visit them all at home?

Two days later, and two months after we first met, I fill out his death certificate.

Looking back, I reflect: He didn’t go back to the hospital, he had no more falls, and he died at home, which is what he wanted. But I wonder if his wife felt the same.

Several months later, a new name appears on my patient schedule: It’s his wife.

“My family all thought I should see you,” she explains.

She, too, is in her late 80s and frail, but independent and mentally sharp. Yes, she is grieving the loss of her husband, and she’s lost some weight. No, she isn’t depressed. Her husband died peacefully at home, and it felt like the right thing for everyone.

“He liked you,” she says.

She’s suffering from fatigue and anemia. About a year ago, a hematologist diagnosed her with myelodysplasia (a bone marrow failure, often terminal). But six months back, she stopped going for medical care.

I ask why.

“They were just doing more and more tests,” she says. “And I wasn’t getting any better.”

Now I know what to do. I look her in the eye and ask:

“What are your goals for your care, and how can I help you?”

-Mitch Kaminski

Source

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Lieutenant Price being absolutely infatuated with Captain MacMillan because he's a young man with raging hormones, under a lot of pressure, and a crippling need for praise that he's only ever got in the military by being the very best at what he does. Throw in the fact that he's never had a stable, secure male role model, and if Captain MacMillan had been so inclined, he could have probably fucked his young lieutenant at any point in their time working together.

Nikolai, who is very used to having anyone he damn well wants, being absolutely, teeth-grindingly frustrated as he watches this happen for six fucking years until John gets his captaincy, unable to find any relief in any other relationships because the man he so desperately wants is stuck in a loop of hopeless hero worship for a straight, married man without even realising it.

John is so uptight, and so in denial, that Nik's audacious flirtations are taken as the usual homoerotic banter that happens in the military and rebuffed accordingly. Their friendship develops into an ironclad bond over the years as John mellows out, but Nik can never seem to cross that threshold into his heart and into his bed.

[starmieknight]

Was thinking about Stan's habit of grabbing his chest when he's scared and then thought about what if he did end up having a heart attack or something after Ford came back. Like, he's been stressed for ages and now he's gotta worry about Ford potentially getting the kids into something dangerous like he did and where he's gonna go after the kids leave and what he's gonna do without the Shack.

Maybe it hits him in the middle of tour or something. Like, he's been feeling off all day and looks kinda ragged so maybe Soos is keeping close and sees him go down. At first, people think it's part of the tour or some typical Stan gag. And then he doesn't laugh or try to play it up for money. So the twins run down to the basement to get Ford.

He's kinda annoyed that his planning time's been interrupted by Stanley's antics, but the twins seem genuinely upset so he goes to check it out. And finds out Soos and Wendy called an ambulance and there really IS a problem. Then he kinda disconnects from the situation. Like, he's panicking internally but this isn't the first major medical situation he's been in. So he calmly gets the kids (Soos and Wendy included) into Stan's car and follows the ambulance to the hospital. He's the one wrangling the kids while they freak out and asking all the questions to the doctors and nurses about Stan's condition. He can't take time to worry about his brother because he's got a bunch of kids to reassure and they're all looking to him because he's the eldest person there. He's an old man with all the answers in the universe. If anyone can tell them Stan's gonna be okay, it's gonna be Mr. 12 PhDs.

Except... he doesn't.

He doesn't know anything about his brother's medical history past the age of seventeen. Dipper's the one to mention Stan's medication and Mabel knows his diet and Soos and Wendy know about his boxing hobby and work schedule. Ford has a hazy memory about Stan chewing his way out of a trunk once.

He starts thinking about how Stan's the only family he has left. Sure, the twins are there, but they don't really know each other. Shermie and his son are just over the state line in California, but they don't know who he is anymore. Stanley's been wearing his face for years and they never seemed to notice. His parents are dead. Fiddleford is 30 years in the wind.

Stanley's the only one who truly knows him. Knows about his deepest insecurities and childhood dreams. Who knows his favorite books and comic book heroes. About his first disastrous date and the kissing bot. About how badly things had gone for him and been at his doorstep only a couple of days after receiving a single postcard after 10 years of silence.

And Ford knows nothing of the man Stanley became. Stanley doesn't know how Ford has changed. How he's trying SO HARD to fix his mistakes.

And suddenly being so angry over some paltry little machine doesn't seem so important. Ford's the one who built a doomsday device.

He's still angry with Stanley taking his identity, but what does it matter if no one noticed? Sure, Stan got him a criminal record, but he made one of his own in the multiverse. Their family has always leaned to the gray side of the law.

And now they may never get the chance to know each other again. 40 years without each other and the pain of potentially losing Stanley cuts Stanford so deep he feels like he's the one dying.

So he sits in that cold hospital waiting room, four hysterical kids surrounding him, and wears a straight face while his world falls apart around him.

If you lose your parents, they call you an orphan.

If you lose your twin, they don't stop calling you a brother.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

The Falcon & the Machine

summary: joaquin confronts you about your attempt to “protect” him.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!assassin!reader

contents: mentions of canon typical violence, angst, pining/longing, kissing, happyish ending

wc: 1,652

an: i just love the idea of joaquin and his lover being on the opposite side of things or having different morals. idk it makes their love that much better to me 🫶🏾🤭

danny ramirez characters masterlist

The car stops somewhere deep in the Virginia woods—far enough from the base to mean it’s not casual, close enough to mean someone wanted this private but not remote. It has your alarm bells ringing.

You narrow your eyes at Sam through the rearview mirror. “I thought you said this was a tactical meeting.”

“It is,” he says, his voice too casual and smooth. “Tactical for your emotional wellbeing.”

He’s out the car and your door opens before you can snap something back. You step out, instincts sharp even when you’re exhausted. The world around you is quiet, deceptively peaceful. The trees, the sound of wind stirring through the leaves, the birds distant but constant and everything feels still.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t know how to feel still anymore. Not after everything.

You see Joaquin as you keep walking, and all of your practiced cold, all your walls fall away like a sheet of glass hit from the inside.

He’s standing in a clearing, arms crossed, Falcon wings holstered tight to his back. You can’t see his eyes yet, but you know he’s looking at you. You can feel that same raw tension in his gaze, the same pull between you that neither of you can ignore.

You haven’t answered his calls in three weeks, or let him near you since the mission in Turkey went sideways. Since the extraction turned into a bloodbath, bodies hitting the floor from your hands. That’s when the questions started to follow you—yes as always— but him too.

Questions that could ruin everything Joaquin’s shed blood, sweat and tears for.

The second hardest part of all this isn’t having to kill the people that come after you, the people they send to ask questions or torture you. Its the way you saw the fear in Joaquin’s eyes when he realized how far into the dark you were willing to go to protect him, and everyone else. He saw the worst of you. And still…he never wanted to walk away, he never turned away.

The hardest part? Letting him.

Because your file isn’t redacted, you can’t hide in the shadows while living this full life. People know who you are and what you do. You’re a fixer—not in the clean, shiny way that heroes are. You don’t wear the white hat, you don’t dawn the stars and stripes.

You’re someone who does the dirty work when governments, organizations, or even the Avengers themselves need it done. You erase people and trade lives like currency and manipulate systems from the inside out. You’re good at it, but it’s not who you are. At least, not the person you want to be—not when you’ve been given someone like Joaquin by the grace of the universe to stand beside you.

But the world isn’t kind to ghosts, to those who lurk in the shadows. And Joaquin… he’s everything you’re not.

He’s visible. He’s everything that is right and pure and true in the world. People believe in him and they believe in his future. Not in yours, not in the mess that’s followed you around all your life.

“Seriously?” you mutter, glaring at Sam, but he’s already slipping away from you, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Talk to him or don’t. But, if I hear either of you whining and brooding one more time, I’m putting you both in a room with Bucky. You know he’s tryna therapize everybody now that he has a shrink.”

You roll your eyes, but his words sit with you long after Sam disappears back into the trees. Talk to him or don’t…did you truly have a choice? He’s right, neither of you have stopped talking about the other. You turn toward Joaquin, who hasn’t moved an inch.

His face is collected, but it’s not just the expression—it’s the way he stands. There’s an edge to him now, something rough, jagged in his posture that makes your heart tighten.

You don’t give him the chance to speak. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you explain, your voice shaking under the weight of the tension.

Sam must’ve told him about the way you’d broken down earlier in the week, how much of a toll trying to do right by him took on you.

He lets out a dry laugh, one that starts to give away that he’s hurting too. You hear in the way his voice cracks. “You mean seeing you be real? Not that— that machine you become. Not worrying about who you are and who I am, just feeling it?”

You flinch, but he doesn’t look at you with judgment. It’s just the truth in his words—raw and impossible to deny. You’ve always tried to protect him from that. From you.

“I meant what I said, Joaquin,” you say, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. “You have a future.

“We had a future.”

“Did we? You’re the Falcon– you’re Captain America’s right hand. People need you.”

His jaw tightens, and his eyes flash as they finally meet yours, the intensity there almost too much to bear. “And you don’t?”

“I’m one person. People believe in you. They trust in you.”

He already has a complicated relationship with the pressure of being a superhero. Could he keep something? Not his privacy or his image but you? Or would living his dream take everything from him?

“And they wouldn’t if they knew that I love you? That you love me too?” he asks, voice quieter but no less fierce.

You bite down on your lip, trying to steady yourself trembling under the depth of his words. Your own pour out of you almost frantically. “If they knew what I’ve done? If they knew what I still do? I torture and kill for a living, Joaquin. I’ve crossed lines you can’t even imagine. There’s so much that I can never tell you. If the wrong person finds out about me, about us, everything you’ve worked for could be gone in an instant. Your reputation, your team, your wings, maybe even Sam’s shield. I won’t do that to you.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. Your words hang in the air, unspoken truths that neither of you wants to face.

He doesn’t look angry and he doesn’t look scared either. But he looks tired—in the way people look when they’ve spent too long running from something that was always going to catch up with them.

“I don’t care,” he says finally. The words come out rough, a quiet certainty threading through his voice.

You blink, confused. “What?”

“I said I don’t care what they say,” Joaquín continues, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, each word carrying weight, but with something else behind it—something real. Something charged that makes butterflies swirl in your stomach. “I don’t care about politics, or optics, or keeping it clean for the cameras. I care about you, I love you. What matters more to me is you. Not the job or the title. Not the wings—you.”

Your chest feels tight, the weight of his words pushing you down, making your breath catch.You want to pull away, to let the distance between you both grow to protect him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing there—when he’s been so damn sure about you from the first time he laid eyes on you.

“I’m not good for you,” you whisper brokenly, the vulnerability you’ve been trying to shield yourself from finally breaking through.

“Maybe,” he says, eyes never leaving yours, his voice softer, like he’s holding onto every syllable. “But I want you.”

Before you can respond, he’s there. On you, surrounding you. His lips are on yours, pulling you into a kiss that’s fierce and desperate, raw with need. Your hands find his chest, and then his arms, gripping onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go. The world around you becomes nothing but noise and movement. The distant rustle of the leaves, the pounding of your heart. The overwhelming rush of warmth, heat, and everything that makes this moment feel like it’s been years in the making.

He presses you against the rough bark of the tree, his body flush against yours, his hands moving over your skin with a care and hunger that makes you ache. His lips leave yours only for a moment, just long enough for him to speak, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’m not letting go,” he murmurs.

You don’t know how to respond but you don’t have to because he’s kissing you; no consuming you. The fear in your chest starts to melt into something else—that deep, raw desire that you’ve been trying to bury under the fear of ruining the one pure thing in your life. But the way he’s holding you, the way his fingers press into your chin and throat as he holds you, grounds you—he’s not letting go.

Not of you. Not of any of this. He’ll be damned.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, your voice breathless from the kiss, from how warm his mouth feels as it skates against the skin of your throat.

“I’ll show you how,” Joaquin says, his voice steady, confident between kisses. “One step at a time. Just trust me. You trust me right?”

“You know I do.”

“Then trust that I know what I’m doing. Trust that I know I meant to choose you. Can you do that for me?”

You nod and close your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat settle against your own. You don’t think you’re ready for this, for everything that comes with it. But maybe, you can trust him to help you figure it out. Because with him, you’re not a ghost, not just a handler or a murderer or whatever the contract names you to be.

You’re just you. Just his.

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @seraphibunni, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl, @blackwomanchronicles

[torlibram]

Let me tell you something. You know, while I have your attention, what with the chains and everything. And before you start planning your escape: yes, I have a tendency to monologue, and yes, I am still very much alive and well, and yes, those are the desiccated bones of the previous set of heroes to try what you did. So hush a minute and listen.

Have you ever thought about why I set myself up like this? About what my eventual goal is? I'm not Evil with a capital E, I'm just painted that way by those with a vested interest in the status quo. Seriously. The big wigs at the Ministry want me gone because I am a challenge to their rigid thinking and blinkered mindset.

It was all my parents fault, really. They had it in their heads that I was going to be the greatest wizard ever, head of the Ministry by the age of twenty-five, all that nonsense. So they had me reading runes before I could read ordinary Westling. I could conjure air spirits at the age of five, if you can believe it. Oh, mock all you like, I could do it.

They tucked bits and pieces of regular education in around the magic stuff wherever I had a spare minute. Nine, sometimes ten hours a day, six days a week from the moment I was old enough to hold a wand.

I never knew any different, of course. I never had time to go out and meet kids my age. I never knew what it was like to be normal. It was memorising spells and learning techniques and practicing gestures and fifteen uses for newt livers in everything from poisons to phantasmal conjurations. It got to me, I won't lie. All I ever wanted back then was to make them proud.

It ended when they wanted to do the grand unveiling. Revealing their protégé to the unsuspecting world. Sending me off to the Invisible College to wow the staff there and start my ascent to greatness.

It all backfired when I met my fellow students. They were just starting out. They couldn't have summoned a wet fart after a big curry. I didn't believe it at first. How could they have gotten a place at IC without the merest cantrip to their name?

Some time in the library showed me what my parents had done to me. To my life. The rage that gripped me when I realised that everything had just been for their benefit: so they could be the gracious, smiling, loving parents who had helped their darling boy achieve the greatness for which he was so clearly destined.

I stuck it out for one semester. Used that time to get everything I could from the library, every advanced technique and spell that the undergrads aren't supposed to know even exists. I picked the brains of my tutors, too. Oh, don't look at me like that, I don't mean literally. I asked some leading questions and learned where to focus my research is all.

Then I left. My parents got all upset about their son disappearing and there were searches by the King's men, but I was well away to the north.

I got my start with a troll. One of the old fashioned lads from up in the mountains. He jumped out from under his bridge and demanded a toll. I offered him a few castings of a sculpting spell I knew, help repair the bridge a bit, and before I knew it, I had an actual friend. First one in my life and it was a troll! Talking to old Belag, I saw the rough deal that he and his people got and I thought "I could really stick it to dear old mum and dad if I start championing the little guys, the underdogs."

So that's what I did. After Belag and his bridge, there was an orc tribe going through a constitutional crisis that I happened across at the right time to get myself installed as the new chief's adviser. From there it was straightforward to nudge the tribe into better trade relations with neighbouring tribes, better treatment for the slaves that did the agriculture (which meant better crop yields and less lashing-to-deaths) and so on.

King Knob-Cheese, excuse me, King Nhobesh, the orcish turn of phrase does tend to rub off on you, was against all this, of course and so sent out adventurers to end the "orcish threat". My magic saw them off before they had their swords out. The next lot managed to get half a sentence of self-righteous declamation in before the acid storm took them, but I saw the way things were going. I advised the chief to pack up and move north of the mountains to make it harder for the King's men to find us. Took a lot of arguing, but I got him to agree in the end. He finally admitted he didn't want to end up with his head on a pike and rallied the tribe to move out.

Setting up this side of the mountains was tricky. The local tribes didn't fancy a bunch of southerners moving in, so I had to crack a few heads by levitating damn great boulders over them before their deputies saw sense.

After that, it was plain sailing. The northern tribes got the hang of things quite quickly and evolved into socialist communes inside a decade. Belag had a word with his cousins, who talked to their friends the stone giants and we had this place blocking the major pass to the north practically before the King knew there was anything going on. I was kind of specific in the design of this fortress. Yes, we want to keep the men of the south out, I said, but we should keep the option to open the way wide to them if they ever grow up. And so grew the tower of Broad Door.

Look, is all this history boring you? Because we can go back to the injecting molten lead into the marrow of your bones if you like? That's more the Ministry's sort of speed, isn't it? No? Ok, tell you what: you seem to have a halfway sensible head on your shoulders, unlike some of your erstwhile comrades. The northern collectives can always use a sensible head with a good sword arm. I'll turn you over to our recruiting department and they can show how much better life is this side of the mountains, what do you say?

Why? Because there is no better revenge, nothing, than knowing that my dearest mummsy and daddikins have to disavow all knowledge of their son, that my every act will shame them in the eyes of their peers, that I have subverted so many alleged heroes to my cause by just common sense and social justice. When I think of the ulcers I must be causing them because they can't bring themselves to admit the Dark Lord of the North is their fault, why it warms my heart on the coldest of nights.

Learning magic is an arduous journey, requiring sacrifice and dedication. Your parents made you give up your childhood to study magic—only after completing your studies do you learn that most other mages actually choose to start in adulthood.

[ama3003]

The Cost of Sides

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: Yes! I didn't want to respond directly since it does contain some Thunderbolts Spoilers but I really hope you see this. If you do see this, please message me that you did so, I can have some peace of mind.

The request started with "Can I request a fic for Bucky please? I’m wanting lots of angst of reader and Bucky not seeing eye to eye after..."

Type: Angst

Summary: You and Bucky seem to be on opposite sides.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

You met Bucky through Steve during the U.N. bombing fiasco—back when everything was falling apart and nothing felt safe.

From that moment on, you were in it with him. Every step, every fight, every quiet moment in the aftermath. He never had to ask; you were just there.

And when Steve died, when the weight of it all came crashing down, the two of you leaned on each other like you were the only solid thing left in the world. Somewhere in that grief, love happened. Slowly, then all at once.

After that, you were just… you and him. No big declarations. No drama. Just this steady, easy rhythm.

Sure, there were arguments—small ones, over stupid things like laundry or leaving dishes in the sink—but never real fights. Nothing that stuck. You could read each other so well it never got that far.

Until you played the video Sam sent you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, meet the New Avengers,”

And there was Bucky. In the center. Wearing his suit. Standing with them.

Your heart dropped so fast you couldn’t breathe for a second. Not because you thought he betrayed you or Sam though he definitely did—but because he let it happen. Because he stood there, quiet.

You didn’t want to pick sides. God, you really didn’t. But it felt like he already had.

He said he didn’t ask for it. Said he wasn’t even sure how it happened. But he kept showing up to their briefings, kept running missions with them, kept wearing that title like it didn’t burn.

And the worst part? The government—the government—was backing them. Funding them. Controlling them. You grew up watching them twist heroes into weapons. And now they had Bucky.

You tried to talk. At first, it was calm. Then it wasn’t.

Now it’s been fourteen months. And you barely recognize the way your fights stretch out, sharper, faster, more frequent. Less about the Avengers and more about everything that’s not being said.

You still love him. That’s not even a question. And he loves you. You know that. But sometimes love isn’t enough to close the space that’s growing between two people who don’t see the world the same way anymore.

You try. You both do. But it’s harder than it used to be. Way harder.

This morning, you show up at the compound with coffee in your hands, the paper tray trembling just slightly from lack of sleep—and everything else. It’s your way of saying sorry without saying the words. Not for what you fought about, but for the way it happened. For the silence after.

That’s how you find yourself stepping off the elevator and into the team’s living space chest still aching from the night before—just in time to hear it:

"Weren’t you going to talk to him?"

"I already did," Bucky says. His voice is low, tired. Like he’s already lived through the argument in his head too many times to want to say it again.

"And?"

"It went poorly."

You stop just past the doorway, your stomach twisting. You shouldn’t have heard that. But now that you have, you can't pretend you didn’t.

“You spoke to Sam?” you ask, stepping into the room fully.

Everyone looks up. The weight of too many eyes lands heavy on your skin. No one says anything. They don’t have to. Everyone knows what’s been going on—what’s been quietly breaking between you and Bucky for over a year now.

“I brought coffee for everyone,” you offer, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. It doesn’t hide the tension. It only highlights it.

Then, gently to Bob: “I got you decaffeinated tea.”

“Thank you,” Bob says, offering a soft smile, trying to smooth out the edges of the moment. But it doesn't do much.

You turn back to Bucky, heart in your throat. “You spoke to Sam?”

He exhales slowly. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?” you ask. You already know the answer. You’re just hoping it’s not the one you’re thinking.

“To see if he would stop all of this,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face.

You stare at him, jaw clenched. “I told you he wouldn’t. Ross is breathing down his neck. He basically has his hands tied.”

Bucky shakes his head, frustrated. “That doesn’t give him the right to make this whole thing hell for us. It’s not our fault that Valentina decided to do all of this.”

You feel the words catch in your chest before they come out. “But you didn’t fight it.”

The room is still. Even the air feels heavy.

Yelena, sitting off to the side, casually adds, “You do know that he filed for copyright of the name.”

Bucky turns toward her, caught off guard. “Did he?” Then his eyes swing back to you. “See? We're not doing anything. He’s taking it too far.”

You feel heat rise in your chest. Not anger exactly—something messier. “Look, the Avengers stay with the one who has the shield. He has the right to start up the team again. And don’t forget—you’re the one who told him he should.”

“I never said that.”

You glare at him, the words hitting before you can stop them. “He vented to you, Bucky. You gave him advice. You told him Steve didn’t make a mistake handing him the shield. You told him to lead—to build something new. The Avengers. And now not only is there a new team, but you’re in it. With the same government that once tried to erase him. And you didn’t even try to understand his side."

He scoffs, voice rising. “Sam’s side? He’s the one who doesn’t want to speak to me! He’s the one who’s blaming me like I planned this!”

“What happened during that call?” you ask, arms crossed tightly in front of you like it’s the only thing holding you together.

“I told him—” Bucky starts, then shrugs, eyes flicking away. “I told him he was being ridiculous. That there’s already an Avengers team. That there’s no reason to start a second one.”

Your lips part, but it takes a second for the words to come. “So you basically told him to back off.”

“He’s making this really difficult,” Bucky mutters.

You feel something in you crack—quietly. You can't keep arguing. You lost all willpower. You grab your purse off the counter. “I’m not doing this right now,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

But behind you, his voice calls out, rough and wounded. “You’re not even going to hear me out?”

You stop. You turn. Slowly. “I’ve been hearing you out for fourteen months, Bucky,” you say. “Every time. I’ve listened. I’ve tried to understand. But you signed on with them. What more is there to hear?”

He steps forward, like being closer might help you hear him better. “It’s not like that—”

“No?” Your voice trembles, but the anger in it keeps it from breaking. “Because it feels like exactly that. And fine, let’s say you didn’t sign up for the politics, but you’re still here. Standing next to them. Like that shield and that name didn’t come with blood and pain and history.”

His shoulders tense. His jaw tightens. That flash of guilt flickers in his eyes again—but he swallows it down too fast. Again.

“This isn’t about Sam.”

You almost laugh. “Everything is about Sam.”

“I didn’t want this,” he snaps. “But sometimes we don’t get to wait for the perfect cause to show up. The world’s on fire. Sam had time—he could’ve acted. But now he’s creating this new team out of spite.”

You look at him like you don’t recognize him for a second. “And sometimes you don’t even realize you’re helping the very system that tried to erase your best friend from history...That tried to bury you.”

He flinches. That one lands. You can see it in the way he goes still.

You take a shaky breath. “Sam bled for that shield. He earned it. But they made him prove himself again and again. Until he was almost broken. And now you’re smiling for the cameras next to the same people who happily tried to hand that legacy to John.” You glance at Walker. “No offense.”

“Some taken,” Walker mumbles. You ignore him.

Bucky’s face darkens. “I haven’t forgotten what they did. But I haven’t forgotten the threats out there, either. This team… it’s not perfect. But we show up. Sam’s team haven’t shown up at all.”

“And when they do?” you say, stepping closer. “Are you really going to go up against Sam? Against his team? Over a name?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

It feels like a punch to the ribs. You stare at him, voice soft and hollow. “And what about me?”

That shatters something in his expression. You see it—the flicker of fear he tries to bury but can’t. Because this time, it’s different. You’ve fought before—circling this dilemma for months, both of you carefully pretending it lived outside your relationship. Like you could keep love and ideology in separate rooms. But this? This is the first time the line disappears. The first time it feels personal.

And you can’t pretend anymore.

“We’re a family, Bucky. After Steve, it’s always been us three. And now you're ready to go against him? Over a group name that we both know belongs to him.”

“I want to be where I can help,” he says, quieter now. “Sure, the government backs us up, but we're not letting them control us. We're on the right side."

Your eyes burned, but you refused to let the tears fall. “And what happens when the lines between right and wrong blur, Bucky? When the people you’re working with start justifying things again?"

He doesn’t answer right away.

You lower your voice, barely above a whisper now. “What happens when history repeats itself?”

He looks at you, offended. “You think I’d let that happen again?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “And that’s what scares me.”

The silence hung there like a bruise. No one said a word.

Silence settled between you again, broken only by the muffled sounds of the team whispering amongst themselves, trying not to be obvious, failing miserably.

You turned toward the window because it was easier than looking at him. Easier than seeing what was—or wasn’t—left in his eyes.

Your voice came out quieter than you meant, cracked at the edges.

“I can’t follow you into this, Buck.”

You heard him breathe in—sharp, like maybe he hadn’t expected that. Or maybe he had.

“I never asked you to,” he said. But there was something in his voice. A break. A catch. Something small but real.

And somehow, that made it worse.

You nodded, once. No drama. No grand speech. Just… done. Then you turned and walked toward the elevator.

No one stopped you.

You felt their eyes on your back. You felt his most of all.

The elevator dinged open, and you stepped in stiffly, trying to keep your hands from shaking and your heart from breaking right here in front of them.

The doors started to close.

He still didn’t move.

Still didn’t say your name.

And that? That was the part that broke you. He was letting you go.

Only when the doors shut and you were alone did your shoulders slump. Only then did the breath you'd been holding finally let go—and it came out shaky.

You didn’t cry. Not yet.

You pulled out your phone, meaning to call Sam. Ask if you could crash for the night.

But your screen lit up before you could type.

Your lock screen.

That damn photo.

You and Bucky, wrapped up in each other, grinning like idiots. Some blurry picture someone else had snapped at some rooftop barbecue. He had his arm around you, his mouth near your ear. You were laughing like the world wasn’t ending.

Back when things still felt easy.

Before sides. Before names meant more than people.

Before all of this.

You stared at it, and your chest ached. Actually ached.

Different times. Different battles. Same man.

But maybe not the same love.

You’d followed him through hell and worse. You would’ve followed him anywhere.

But not this time.

Not into something that went against everything you believed. Not when it meant losing pieces of yourself just to stay close to him. Not when it meant standing against the memory of the only real family you've ever had.

Ahhh, I seriously love getting Bucky requests—they're always my favorite to write!

Also, I know this whole Sam vs. Bucky situation has stirred up a lot of emotions, but honestly, their friendship is so strong that I doubt it'll last long.

Anywhoooo I hope you enjoy this one! Love you all and thank you for all the support!!!!!

Pleaseeeee send me more requests (I'm on a Bucky roll right now lol)! And to those who have requested don't worry I'll get to yours soon!

[catmaraudersfan]

Read this https://archiveofourown.org/works/56914804 got an amazing idea:

The Justice League has been investigating the city Amity Park and the strange block surrounding it. They break through part of it, discover the Guys in White, take them down, and break through the rest of the blocks.

They learn about the teen hero (as much as I love the misunderstanding "Phantom is obviously an ancient ghost" I don't buy it. The Justice League would do MASSIVE research on the new hero. The Justice League Dark ESPECIALLY.) and everything that's been pilled up on his shoulders. They offer to help and he, far from being insistent that he's fine like other teen heroes, GLEEFULLY agrees.

They then discover the obvious supervillains, ex or not, they were never charged or punished, Jack and Maddie Fenton and all they've done. The biggest being breaking a hole into the Infinite Realms!

They gather evidence and finally go to arrest the two.

They get a BIG surprise when Phantom goes into a rage and attacks.

The heroes retreat so that Phantom can cool down so they can ask why he did that.

They will need a new plan to bring the Fentons to justice.

A nearby ghost, Phantom said the ghosts could be in the human world as long as they didn't cause damage or attack humans, (this is post Glitch in Time. The Fentons kept their memories. Because that bugged me.) asked what happened and why "Babypop" is so pissed.

One of them mentions they are planning on arresting Jack and Maddie Fenton.

The ghost then cracks UP, laughing that THIS was a HUGE mistake. She does admit it's interesting to finally see Phantom in his first Obsessive Rage. The ghost, Ember she introduces herself, then leaves, laughing that she "needs to tell EVERYONE about baby's first Obsessive Rage".

Someone has a hunch after hearing that, PRAYS they're wrong, because this would add to the Fenton's charges, and brings up a search of the Fenton's kids. They not only find photographic proof in the picture of Daniel Fenton, but a news article of some accident that happened to him that matches up with Phantom showing up.

John Constantine and Dark knowing more than the official Justice League about ghosts, sighs and says they will need to do this DELICATELY.

[unionizedwizard]

actually artoirel is one of the funniest and most tragic characters in heavensward like. man. imagine being the first trueborn son of one of the highest noble houses in a country where primogeniture is the word of law, having spent your entire life doing your damndest to fulfill your ordained role in life & gaining you father's approval, only to be the second-favorite son because your father likes his illegitimate son better than you—and you can't even truly blame him because yeah, your half-brother is just that lovable; having almost none of the privileges that your birth allowed you, he's still proud and happy and takes everything in stride; he's pretty much the embodiment of the chivalric ideal you both are meant to uphold; his men love and respect him because he's both a capable leader and a really good person; he is the ultimate faithful and virtuous knight and he's so good that he doesnt even begrudge you the place and privileges that he should be allowed, which makes you definitely ashamed of being jealous of him: he plainly likes and respects YOU!; he shows up one day begging your father for a huge favor (which he usually never does, as he doesn't like to use his connections for his own ends, thus lending a special weight to the request) i.e housing and protecting his "friend" of whom he speaks like they're the embodiment of hope and a new avatar of the Fury herself and YOUR FATHER ACTUALLY CONSENTS, much to your dismay, and THEN when said ""friend"" shows up (with their own retinue)—a complete stranger, a so-called "hero", more like a fraud in your opinion, but it's not like you were allowed to give your opinion in this matter anyway—you're half-secretly praying that they're just overrated and will fail but they actually are just that cool—dishonor upon dishonor: your father assigns them your own mission (the shame!!) and THEN you send them to what is most likely their own death in the field (cowardly and despicable move that should definitely strip you of your honor in the eyes of men and the gods both) but, against all odds, they actually survive AND succeed (and don't even blame you?? therefore proving their own moral superiority—JUST like your brother), so you have no choice but to actually agree with your brother here, and oh no you watch your father start actually loving them, and THEN your brother literally dies the single most heroic and righteous death a knight could ever wish for, and YOU, INSTEAD OF MECHANICALLY BECOMING THE NEW FAVORITE, even as you are named the new Count as your father steps down from the role—you realize with growing horror that you will never, ever be the first in his heart because now your dead brother has become a literal cult object, a genuine holy martyr, no less, and he tells the new similarly-virtuous-embodiment-of-chivalric-virtues illegitimate-born knight-leader that he sees your glorified dead brother in him in front of you and witnesses, including the stranger your brother died to protect, and it's only ever going to be that way. forever. and you always did what you were asked. and all you did was seeking to gain your father's approval by playing by the rules. ah well. luckily your younger brother is such a fuckup you can vent your frustrations on him and scorn him like the rest of the world does, at the very least,

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

Plot Twist. It’s a Young Vlad right after he treated his echo ache and began building Vlad Industries after he took over. Vlad industries has a long history with the league and the Al Ghuls, dating back to before his great great grandfather. The cheese is really just a hobby for them (I think it’s a good cover up at least.)

But main point, young Vlad is Danny’s biological Dad and he doesn’t find out till a version of the whole Dani situation comes up but he is aware that Vlad has always been close with his real parents prior to him being born. It’s a huge coincidence that even Vlad isn’t aware of. They hate each other after all.

-potential senario-

-after Damien finds out about his brother and does some sleuthing. He isn’t 100% sure that Danyal is his full blood sibling.

-Damien finds Danny before he leaves town and as a civilian, lightly stalks Danny for trash that has touched his lips. Ends up with a soda can from a burger joint. He debated testing the woman Danny calls ‘mom’ just because ase of how different Daniel is to Damien. If they actually grew up in the same place wouldn’t they be similar?

(I don’t know if Danny would have his powers but I suspect he would after moving in with the Fenton and making friends with Sam and Tucker. Maybe he just isn’t a hero who is always in the news like canon.)

-While Damien runs the dna he thinks about what he saw while Danny was with his mom. How they seemed so normal, so mundane. How much he likely missed being raised by assassins.

-dna comes back and Bruce and Danny are not a match while Talia, Damien and Danny match for maternal dna. However Danny’s biological father is still a mystery.

- Damien decides to go to his mother himself and confront her. About everything.

So on and so forth. Idk my little addition to this awesome chain of events haha

Danny and Damian are related, with a twist.

Danny is the son of Talia Al Ghul, however he is NOT the son of Bruce Wayne. Ra’s has had his eyes on various people across the world that have either impressed him or show a unique skill set that he’d like to have. One such person was under the both categories and he got Talia to collect a DNA sample and as a result Danny was born.

This was before Bruce’s time with the League by a few years, but very quickly Danny was not meeting expectations. And by the time Bruce did show up Ra’s had lost all interest in Danny, moving on to better things.

Talia always hated Danny because she was forced to have him with a man who she never liked in the first place. Furthermore, because his skillset was lacking she found that even more reason for her distain. In her eyes, he wasn’t worth even considering her blood.

Danny, knowing that he was doomed if he didn’t make an escape, left the league sometime around when Bruce was moving up the ranks and was making waves within the organization. Perfect timing honestly, any attention he might have had was quickly gone when this prodigy showed up.

Danny escaped the League and went into hiding quickly after, settling on a rural area of the United States after bouncing around countries for a few months. This was mainly because Jasmine Fenton saw a young boy pick pocketing strangers while her family was visiting Chicago and scolded him. Her mother and father saw the boy and also lectured him to which Danny responded it was his only option (he was trying to get this loud family off his back so he could sneak away). Eventually the Fentons decide that if he has nowhere to go he might as well go with us, and Danny decides blending in with a Nuclear Family is the best way to ensure that his peaceful life away from the League stays that way. Oh how little did he know.

Flash forward a few years, Talia, who was visiting Gotham to check on Damian, sees a glimpse of a boy (now man) she thought she had forgotten. Her blood runs cold, if this abomination is in Gotham then her son is likely in danger and she would never let anything happen to Damian.

[rexhya]

Hii can u do one for either deku or bakugo and like do the reader is new to UA and she’s rlly pretty but like rlly rlly weird ( like maya from pen15 weird )

quirky oddball — ✦ ✦

warn — hi i've actually never watched PEN15 but I did my research so I hope this does it justice!

incl — katsuki

bakugou who doesn't actually believe he could have a crush on you, you're the complete opposite of what he likes, weird, loud, and especially weird.

you didn't come the first days of school, you were a transfer from [country] and had introduced yourself by doing a tribal dance from a show or book or wherever it came from ( all he could remember was how starking it was to see your quote "geometrically perfect" face make all thoes facial expressions.)

during quirk assessment the class went out to watch you because well, why not and whaydda know, your quirk is just as weird as your goddamn self. ( no seriously, how the hell did you get accepted jnto the hero course? )

but despte all of this, he's completely, and undeniably in love with you.

he says it's just your face, just your "atanomically desireable body" and that it's no wonder he would have the urge to kiss all over you all the time, but he doesn't ghost you like so many others do when they find out your personality isn't what they assumed it would be. he doesnt blow you off for sharing your extremely niche and strange hobbies ( i mean, deku collects toys too, whats the big deal ). and he sure as hell doesn't like you just for your looks, your honesty to god a sweetheart and sometimes even he has trouble being mean to you.

it's complicated his feelings, he doesnt want to confess and completely make a fool of himself, ( i mean what even is your type? definitely not raging explosive posibbly verbally abusive boys )

turns out he was wrong, "she thinks your, and i quote 'the bomb.com', just ask her out dude." if it weren't for minas words, he probably wouldn't have said anything, in fact he would have kept silent about his crush probably untill forever.

he knows your the weird girl, but he's kind of an outlier himself. he thinks you'd make the pair.

your head over heels literally jumping up and down when you find out, "oh my gosh, this means were dating and now we can totally do SKINNYS together."

you were seated in his dorm room chair, bakugou leaned up against the bed frame.

"Whats that." he tries to be casual, he doesn't think you can tell his heart is on overdrive.

"Sunken Ship is Stolen in the Lost World of Fairies and the Unexpected."

"That doesn't uhm, spell SKINNY."

"I know."

You're weird, but your his weird.

[therainscene]

[Mentions of ST5 leaks below.]

I've been thinking about Linda Hamilton's mysterious role in S5. Leaks tend to agree that she plays a military character of some sort, but I dunno how difficult a guess that is to make given how much of a gun-toting badass her Terminator character is.

Most of ST's guest stars tend to be cast in roles that reflect the classic 80s movies they were in -- Paul Reiser plays a representative of an exploitative institution like in Aliens; Sean Astin solves a puzzle map that leads to underground tunnels like in The Goonies; Robert Englund plays (the father of) a heavily-scarred, mind-walking child murderer like in A Nightmare on Elm Street, etc -- but is that true for all of them?

What does Larry Kline (the slimy Mayor who screws over small businesses to protect the interests of a large corporation) have in common with Cary Elwes's most famous role (the dashing, swashbuckling farmhand-turned-pirate from Princess Bride)? The similarities may not be immediately obvious, but I think they're clearer when you remember that Elwes also played Robin Hood -- Larry Kline is an ironic reversal of the working-class hero Elwes is known for.

What if Linda Hamilton has been cast as an ironic reversal of Sarah Connor?

Sarah Connor is the mother of humanity's future savior, and by Terminator 2, the burden of ensuring that he survives being the target of a genocidal time-travelling AI has turned her into a hardened solider plagued by nightmares of children dying in an apocalypse she's helpless to prevent.

You can hardly blame her for feeling helpless. Even without the time-travelling robots, she's just one woman trying to make a stand against powerful institutions: the military-funded lab that's ignorantly creating the AI her son is destined to oppose; the asylum doctors who think she's a raving lunatic unfit to raise a child.

It's very reflective of 80s anxieties -- not just the Cold War threat of nuclear annihilation, but the conservative threat of social annihilation in the name of silencing misunderstood minorities.

A reversal of Sarah Connor would, therefore, be someone who is still obsessed with protecting children from a rogue (time-travelling? 🤞) hivemind -- but from the conservative, institutionalized power side of things.

In other words: exactly the sort of antagonistic force that was foreshadowed in the S4 epilogue.

(Should the leaks be true, then this would be the real reason for casting Hamilton in a military role.)

Following this train of thought: if we're getting a villain who's focused on "protecting" children, then what does that suggest about the fact that Holly Wheeler -- 7 year-old sister of a gay Hellfire member and frequent innocent witness to The Horrors that surround him -- is shaping up to be one of Henry's targets in S5?

Let's talk about Ted and Karen.

I feel like these two tend to be misunderstood by the fandom. Either they're frothing bigots who would kick Mike out of the house the instant they found out he was queer, or they're chill allies who have been assuming that Mike was dating Will this whole time.

But that's what Will's parents are like. As a visible gay kid who's playing the stereotypical Sad Gay Boy archetype, it makes sense for Will to have parents that represent the obvious extremes of queer acceptance: Lonnie is never going to be convinced that it's anything other than shameful for his son to be queer, and Joyce is never going to be convinced that there's anything wrong with the way her son loves.

But Mike is the invisible, ambiguously straight-passing kid deep in the throes of comphet -- his role is to surprise the audience by subverting their expectations. And so it's important, I think, that his parents represent the subtler attitude that best reflects his story: the ignorant conformists.

They're the sort of people who get offended when they're accused of bigotry -- they're not hateful, heaven forbid! -- but who still passively support bigoted systems because they refuse to stand up like Sarah Connor or Joyce Byers and challenge the status quo.

While I do believe that "our son with a girl?" is a queer-coded line, I don't think the point was necessarily to suggest that Ted knows about Mike's queerness.

Consider the full context of that scene: Brenner was pressuring the Wheelers to rat Mike out so that this weird kid he was hiding (literally in his closet at one point!) could be apprehended, and he easily won them over with a little "protect the children" fearmongering:

The Wheelers want to support Mike -- but they can only understand his behaviour within the heteronormative white suburban context they're used to, and they'll readily trust authorities they absolutely should not be trusting to explain what help he needs.

Unlike Lonnie, though, the Wheelers have the capacity to change in this regard. They immediately clocked the ridiculousness of the town's Satanic Panic in S4, and the last time we saw them, they demonstrated a promising willingness to question authority and roll their eyes at conservative fearmongering.

But they haven't completed their redemption arc just yet. Holly's disappearance will be an important test of their commitment to this change in attitude.

Picture a redux of that S1 scene, with Hamilton's character in Brenner's role: "I understand your skepticism. It seems ridiculous that there are people in our town who are so committed to hurting children. But cultists are a different breed. Do you remember what happened to Will Byers four years ago? You don't really believe that he randomly got lost in the woods for a week, do you? The same week another child was found dead in the quarry? We can help your daughter, but only if you act now. Tell us where your misguided son and that deeply unwell boy he's a little too close to have gone."

Do they give in to the fearmongering and throw Mike under the bus for Holly's sake?

Or do they clock this bullshit for what it is and decide to peek behind the curtain -- and finally become the sort of parents Mike needs them to be?

[mokishy]

Diomedes is not so fundamentally different from his father.

I HAVE DELIVERED

After months of dragging my feet, I finally fished it! (in 4 hours holy shit) and I'm kinda proud of it, but this is probably also the product of my excessive overthinking, but with not further ado, let's begin!

Let’s start with the basics: Tydeus was known for being a wild, out-of-control warrior. His rage was legendary. Diomedes? On paper, he’s the golden child: loyal, calm, respectful, chosen by Athena herself.

But that image of diomedes comes crashing down the moment you dig deeper into his character

On the surface, Diomedes is framed as the “better” version of his father, Tydeus: more disciplined, more strategic, favored by Athena instead of punished by her as stated previously. The Achaeans respect him (not so much leave the poor boy alone let him have his moment instead of comparing him to his father), the gods empower him, and Homer seems to elevate him as the model warrior.

But as i said, when you dig into the text, really look at what Diomedes does, how he fights, how he speaks, you start to see something much deeper and darker: he's not all that different from Tydeus at all when you think about it.

Reading the iliad but focusing on diomedes character its as if he’s constantly on the edge, just barely containing something

he’s a machine of destruction. He slaughters Trojans left and right, wounds Aphrodite without hesitation, and goes after Ares, the literal god of war. He only stops when Apollo himself tells him to back off—and even then, he makes a move again before finally being shut down.

That kind of divine defiance? That’s Tydeus-level rage. It’s just masked under a sheen of Athena’s wisdom and a more calculated cool. Diomedes may wear the face of the perfect Homeric hero, but there’s a savage streak that echoes his father’s madness, just barely held in check.

In the iliad book 10 dio and ody sneak in trojan teritory they catch dolon a trojan spie

Odysseus promises to spare him if he gives them info about the trojans and man sure does he spill

After that? Diomedes decapitates him.

He doesn’t just kill Dolon (after promising to spare him,) he slaughters him, strips him, and then goes on a joyride of death through the enemy camp. When they find Rhesus and his Thracians, Diomedes doesn’t blink—he kills twelve men in their sleep. And then he wants to keep going, like it’s not enough. It’s only when Athena, again, steps in and essentially says, “Okay, calm down now,” that he stops. In this book with Rhesus and the Thracians, Diomedes is already done. He’s already got what he came for. But instead of retreating, he chooses to kill—because it’s not about necessity. It’s about the desire to keep going.

And what’s so chilling about this is how pointless it is, tactically. After Dolon gives them all the info, they don’t need to go murder a dozen men. Diomedes chooses to. He gets no kleos, no divine reward. he doesn’t need a prize. The violence is the prize. He just does it. Because he can.

it’s explicit in the language Homer uses. Diomedes is in full battle ecstasy mode. described as moving like a lion among sheep, grinning and glorying in the chaos. he doesn’t just kill efficiently.

He revels in it.

He likes it, he thrives on the battlefield, and he enjoys bloodshed

"And the son of Tydeus, Diomedes, was glad in his heart as he struck down the men." Iliad book 5

"Glad in his heart" That phrase ("χαῖρε δὲ θυμῷ") pops up in a moments of sheer war ecstasy. It’s not just duty or valor—it’s joy. And when you see it describing Diomedes mid-slaying spree? That’s not your clean-cut hero. That’s a man dancing on the edge of madness.

it’s not just duty. It’s pleasure.

This illustrates how Diomedes isn’t just acting out of obligation not out of practicality, not out of necessity he’s relishing in the kill. It’s not just about the heroics or strategy; there’s an almost primal enjoyment in the violence itself.

The fact that he “was glad in his heart” tells you how far this man is from just being a noble warrior. He’s got that bloodlust burning inside him, and there’s an undeniable thrill in the destruction. It's scary how much he enjoys others suffering.

It’s clear that Diomedes, despite his noble status and divine favor, has that same chaotic, destructive edge his father Tydeus had—it’s just barely held in check.

That bloodlust? That JUST SCREAMS tydeus the difference?: Diomedes knows how to leash it. He’s not the monster his father was; he’s the tamer of that monster within himself. That restraint is what elevates him from being another brutal warrior into something greater: a true hero who chooses to remain in control, even when the thrill of violence is right there.

In fact, the only real difference is that Diomedes is simply better at pretending he’s in control. He puts on the face of the noble hero, but underneath, that same wildfire of rage, that same lust for blood, is burning—just like it was in Tydeus.

Diomedes doesn’t just embody the traits of a Homeric hero—he tests their limits. He walks a razor-thin line between earning immortal kleos and crossing into the kind of reckless savagery the gods despise. The same rage that drives his heroism threatens to tip him into hubris at any moment; and he gets away with it every time.

What makes Diomedes so compelling and so chilling is not that he lacks the ferocity of his father but that he’s better at hiding it. Tydeus is obvious in his rage; he makes no effort to conceal the monster he is. Diomedes, on the other hand, knows how to perform the role of the ideal hero: the noble warrior, the obedient champion of Athena

He’s not more virtuous—he’s just more strategic. He doesn’t kill less, or more cleanly, or even more justly. He kills with the same savage delight, but with the awareness to pull back just before he crosses a line that would cost him divine favor or mortal admiration. This ability to pretend, to wear a hero’s mask while feeding the same destructive instincts as Tydeus hiding the underlying madness behind that mask, makes Diomedes the more dangerous figure. Tydeus may have lost control; but Diomedes hides his control so well, it’s easy to forget what he’s controlling in the first place.

What makes this ironic is that Diomedes, despite all his bloodlust and near-madness, still (in some versions), gets the immortality that was denied to his father. Tydeus, who couldn’t contain his violent nature, ended up punished by the gods; he was denied the eternal glory he craved. Diomedes, on the other hand, dances on the edge of divine retribution, right there with him, and yet, he walks away with not just divine favor but immortality itself.

He’s not Tydeus 2.0.

He’s Tydeus 2.0 with better self-control

And honestly,

I think he kinda fooled all of us

[technofeudalism]

Deborah Lipstadt, a Jewish History professor at Emory, was until recently the State Department’s special envoy to monitor and combat antisemitism under former President Joe Biden. Lipstadt became famous—and was later portrayed onscreen by Rachel Weisz—for winning a judgment in a British court against the Holocaust denier David Irving, who had sued her for libel. Lately, Lipstadt offered surprising support for some of the Trump Administration’s actions, telling the Forward, “I’m not opposed to the administration rescinding the student visas of some of the people that they’re rescinding the student visas of.” She added, “To depict some of these people as martyrs and heroes is ludicrous.” I recently spoke by phone with Lipstadt. During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed whether the Trump Administration really cares about antisemitism, why she wanted to keep some of her comments off the record, and the problem with “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”

Are you pleased that the Trump Administration is talking so much about antisemitism? I’m pleased that they’re addressing it, because that’s what I did for the past three years, which was to really push the Biden Administration to seriously address it. So I am very, very pleased that it’s on their agenda.

You are a smart person. Do you seriously believe that the Trump Administration cares about antisemitism? I’m a little confused here. Yeah, I don’t . . . I don’t know. They haven’t spoken to me, they haven’t consulted with me. So all I can judge is by— But Deborah, your entire career has been judging people for antisemitism, in some cases very effectively. The President hosted white supremacists for dinner. Elon Musk made what appeared to be a Nazi salute. Surely you can look into their souls here. I have called that out. O.K., but more broadly can you make some sort of judgment? Yes, no, there’s been . . . there certainly has been a disturbing tendency, whether it’s whatever Elon Musk was doing with his arm, or when he appeared on video at a campaign event for the far right in Germany. There are a lot of examples. They’re disturbing and they’re bothersome.

Who has been named as your successor? What’s his name? Kaploun? Yehuda Kaploun, I think it is. And he seems to really care about this deeply and genuinely. I know other people in the Administration who care about this deeply and genuinely. I worked in an Administration with people who cared about this deeply and genuinely, and there were some who didn’t. You know, an administration is made up of thousands of people, so I can’t say that it speaks with one voice. It sounds like this guy is a friend of Trump. Yeah. He supported him and worked with the campaign. [Kaploun is a right-wing Miami businessman.]

You can judge him about, say, tweeting happily about people being sent to a horrific prison in El Salvador, right? Look, there’s no reason . . . Look, when you take someone off the street who’s not supposed to be taken off the street, and you deport them, you make a mistake. I come from a tradition and a personal belief that when you make a mistake, you say, I made a mistake, and we’re gonna fix it. And that’s disturbing. They may not care that they made a mistake. That’s the issue. Off the record and not for quotation: [Goes off record.] Is there a reason you don’t want to say that on the record? Yeah, I don’t, because I’m still, you know . . . I don’t want to give people the chance. You know, there’s some people I know, including good friends of mine, who suffer from what the Republicans would call, what is it, “Trump Derangement Syndrome”? You know, anything he does is bad. Look, he moved the Embassy to Jerusalem. So I give him credit for that. I do give him credit for that. I’m not gonna say just because it’s the Trump Administration it’s bad.

Do keep in mind under Biden the crackdown on pro-Palestine politics on college campuses was happening as well; Democrats aren't staunchly opposed to it, just pretending for their base, hence a "strongly worded letter" that will do nothing