#because you would think it would be when he is most powerful

[huginsmemory]

God, YES, to that TBOB really provides us a peek behind the curtain of Bill as an entity and into Bill as a person... (which I think you already get a few hints of it in a show, with how he's overly interested in Ford, but not at all explored to the same degree in TBOB!! ) And I think it actually really falls hand in hand so well with that Bill, an immortal god, is obsessed over like. Ford. A sixty year old man who collects moths and has poor social skills (also I don't think we get to judge either here tbh... But also I think we're downplaying Ford here; he ended up becoming a notorious interdimensional outlaw, built a fucking gun to kill Bill, and has strong convictions. Sure he's dorky but he's also sometimes badass. Although, that's not what Bill fell for first...)

I mean like, what Bill really fell for was that probably for the first time in Bill's life, he ended up being seen and loved Ford as a person beyond a God, or a tyrant that they should fear. When Ford makes the deal with Bill? He says "call me a friend" (Oh Ford, you big big liar about how it was all for science). And he means it! He asks if he can do something about the "monster" when Bill tells him about his own dimension because he cares. Like, don't get me wrong, Ford also worships Bill, but it's more than that! And not only does Ford clearly care for Bill but Bill actually relates to Ford, he sees himself in Ford, in being an outcast, in being angry and having something to prove, their belief in their own exceptionalism. And I don't think Bill at all expected that, and you look at most of the other records of the people Bill talked to, and usually they dislike him/find him annoying/hate him. And it's also a distinct reminder that Bill himself is shitty at communicating so why would he care about Ford's ineptitude?

And just... I don't think Bill would have cared at all about Ford if he was immortal. Because Ford was as he was, mortal, unthreatening, so Bill can interact with him without feeling threatened, which allows him to form these connections... and then on top of that Ford clearly genuinely cares about Bill beyond him as an entity? Other big entities aren't going to see Bill in the same way Ford, mortal, human, was able, nor as willing as Ford. He's the first to accept the person of Bill. And of course Bill, self-made tyrant and immortal out of guilt and horror and self-destructive tendencies because he never was accepted and trying to be accepted caused a genocide, who was originally also desperately mortal, falls head over heels for him. Because Ford finally accepted him, like he had always wanted even as a child. So yeah, of course he's going to be obsessed about Ford because he finally tasted what that type of love and care really truly felt like that he's been chasing/driving away from him his entire life... Only to fumble it really fucking badly, and suddenly that ache is stronger then before, it's got a direction and it's a compass to Ford. And Bill can't grasp it because it's not about power; no matter how much power Bill has, unless he changes, which he refuses to do, he never will experience that love again.

this morning im meditating on just how truly funny it is that alex went with making bill the obsessed one.

like ford was dedicated, he worshipped bill, but ford's devotion made sense. there was a logic and rationality to it and it had boundaries that were consistent and he followed. he worshipped bill for his knowledge and power, loved him for what they had in common and how they got along, left him when he learned of bill's true nature and intentions, and took it upon himself to make up for his mistake by turning that dedication from serving bill to killing bill. this is relatable and understandable.

but making your series main villain, someone immortal and with godlike powers and abilities and influence doggedly obsessed with just some nerd is like. really funny. girl go fuck a black hole, take a neutron star out for dinner, text back one of the eldritch gods on the edge of time. ford collects moths.

[acosmicbee]

Rehabilitation

Your father wasn't a villain. At least, he wasn't one in your eyes. He'd always been your hero, making sure you had enough and keeping you safe. Those hypocritical heroes had no right to have stolen him from you.

Ever since a hero team had been elected into power, everything had changed. Even the slightest bit of vigilante-ism was declared as villainous activity and hero teams were allowed to use lethal force if they felt it necessary.

You refused to give in to the brain washing, especially now that you had no one. The only reason you attended school was because your government mandated family made you. The only reason you were with a governmentally mandated family was because the police somehow found out you were living by yourself.

That didn't stop you from trying to continue on your dad's legacy. You refused to let his name and all he'd done for you die with him. The first step, in your mind, was to get revenge on the hero team you felt was most responsible for his death.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Of course nothing could ever go your way. It felt like the universe had a personal vendetta against you. Fixing up some of your dad's old gear, just some simple stun guns which were kind of outdated, had taken more time than you were expecting. On top of that, you'd spent the last few months in daily detentions for refusing to praise your 'heroic' overlords. 

Because of this, the warm weather you'd based your plan around had left and winter had taken it's place with the weather to match. Not to mention that one of the heroes you were getting revenge on had some sort of ice power that only grew stronger in the winter.

All in all, you probably should've waited a little longer. Should've bided your time and held out at least until Spring. But the hatred you felt overwhelmed you. It was what led you to bundling up, hiding your makeshift weapons in your coat pockets as you snuck out through a window.

Your tried to look as casual as possible as you boarded a train for the area you knew that hero team liked to work. You tried to stay under the radar.

It worked until it didn't.

While in warm weather you could search for an extended period of time as long as you had a big water bottle, it was so cold you were worried your fingers would fall off. On top of that, the incoming blizzard was said to be harsh and bring even colder weather on top of the ridiculous amount of snow.

Even your burning hatred wasn't hot enough to bring the feeling back to your fingers so you finally decided to take shelter in a nearby cafe. At least until you could feel your fingers and toes again.

By the time you finished a warm drink and snack the state of weather had only deteriorated. On top of that, you were feeling extra miserable due to your lack of success, so you decided to head back to the train. 

You were minding your own business as you walked, glaring at the ground. You only looked up when a pair of fancy looking snow boots were blocking your path. Looking up your mood worsened, seeing the exact same ice hero you'd been worried about running into, Ice Blade. Except now, instead of fighting, all you wanted to do was go home.

"Hey kid, where are your parents?" He asked cheerily. You glared at him, stepping around him and continuing on your way. Almost instinctively your hand found your dad's old stun gun in your pocket. You made it midway down the block before he caught up to you, blocking your path once again.

"That's a little rude don't you think?" He said, with a fake pout. You went to side step him but he moved in front of you. "You look familiar though. Have I saved you before?"

"You have never saved me. Leave me alone." You grit out, continuing on down the block. Apparently heroes didn't know how to take hints because he followed after you.

"Wow, you sound really angry. Why don't I walk you wherever you're going! A kid your age shouldn't be out alone in this weather."

You carefully removed one of the stun guns from your pocket, holding it at your side. If he got too close you'd shock him, consequences be damned. Not just for your father anymore, but also because he was annoying you to an astronomical degree. 

You were about to strike when someone's hand gripped your wrist, forcing you to drop your weapon. Whipping around with a pissed off growl you were even more pissed to find the other four members of his team standing there.

"We leave you alone for five minutes and you almost get attacked by a child?" The leader, a hero who went by Gaea, asked in disbelief. You glared at her, trying to wrench your arm out of her grip.

"But look at them! Aren't they just the most adorable thing ever? I know it's bad, but I had to let them feel accomplished! I could've taken a small shock." Ice Blade whined. 

"You're going to hurt them, Gaea." Another one of the teammates said. He was the group's healer and you weren't sure what exactly his code name was.

"Gaea, that's a kid. Obviously Blade was making them uncomfortable." The last male in the group said. He was a fire hero who went by Inferno. 

"Thats good and everything but where would a kid acquire something like that?" Gaea asked, using her free hand to point towards your discarded stun gun. The last member of the group, a hero who went by Tide, picked it up.

"These look like the ones that vigilante used to use. What was his name? Strike or something?" She asked. Not only had these heroes killed him but they couldn't even be bothered to remember who he was?

"His name was Shock!" You hissed, finally pulling free of Gaea's grip. From the sidelines Ice Blade snapped his fingers grinning.

"Thats where I recognize you from! You were part of his civilian life, Y/N, right?"

"Don't you dare talk about my father!" You yelled.

"Father?! Why didn't you mention this to anyone, Blade?!" Gaea demanded, turning to face Ice Blade for a second. 

You took advantage of the moment, using your remaining stun gun on Tide. The second she crumpled your grabbed the one she'd been holding and took off running down the street. No matter what they decided to do with you now that they knew your father, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Another part of your plan you'd drastically underestimated was the fact that you, a fourteen year old, was supposed to somehow outrun five fully grown adults. Five adults who were trained to catch villains and did so on a daily basis.

Despite that, you were somehow still running. They were obviously still following you. It had started to snow and now that the sun was setting it was getting even colder. You were even more miserable as you gripped onto your stun gun.

You were freezing, tired and overall pissed off. You had been ready to go home but the stupid heroes had to ruin everything per usual.

You were almost ready to just attempt to face them head on when a few factors suddenly combined to make your day even worse. One, Ice Blade froze the ground under your feet. Two, the loss of friction caused you to slip. Three, you landed hard on your right wrist. Four, the pain in your wrist made you press down on the stun gun's power button and you accidentally shocked yourself through your jacket.

"Blade! Look what you did!" Gaea hissed. You glared at them, trying to regain your footing as the medic tried approaching you.

"Hey there kid. Can I take a look at your wrist?" 

You slid backwards, using a nearby street light to hoist yourself off the ground. Your breath was coming out in staggering puffs, visible in the cold air. Your wrist and side burned and you felt done with everything.

"Woah there. You shouldn't be trying to stand! You could be hurt really badly!" The medic tried again. You held out one of your stun guns in your uninjured hand.

"Back. Off. Don't touch me." You growled. Your entire body was shaking, both from the pain and from the cold. Your state was deteriorating by the second.

"Woah there kid. Dan's right, you're clearly not doing too hot." Inferno said. "Look, soon the blizzard will get worse and then we'll all be stuck here. So either you wear yourself out or you let us get you somewhere warm. Either way, you're coming with us."

"No! I'm not going anywhere with any of you!" Your words were a lot more hollow when a sudden gust of wind sent you stumbling. At this point your hand was shaking so much you weren't sure you could press the activation button if you wanted to.

"This is getting out of hand." Tide said, striding forward. She had fully recovered from her earlier shock and, despite your best attempts, she disarmed you easily, tossing the stun gun over to Inferno who tucked it away. The second she stuck her hand into your pocket and retrieved the second one your entire body went limp.

The cold was penetrating into the very fibre of your being, your coat and boots useless to stop it from overwhelming you. You could barely make out arms reaching for you and muffled cursing before your knees hit the ground and your vision went dark.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"We need to report them to the higher ups. They should've been put somewhere secure considering who they are and their history." Gaea said. They had just barely managed to make it back to their team headquarters before everything got snowed in. Now, they were trying to figure out what to do with you.

"Aww, I do kinda feel bad though. They're so young and didn't even really do anything." Blade pouted.

"Speak for yourself! That stun gun hurt way worse than when Shock used it." Tide said. At the name of the fallen vigilante a silence fell over them. 

"You know... Shock wasn't really that bad..." Dan said, peeking out of the room you'd been placed in. You were still unconscious and Inferno was with you, trying to help raise your internal temperature.

"I'm not saying we give up on the kid." Gaea clarified. "I think all of us have our own thoughts about Shock and how everything played out that day. Since they didn't inflict any permanent damage maybe the higher ups will let us keep them here."

"Like a rehabilitation program? I suppose that could work. It could open a new window for younger vigilantes and villains." Dan said.

"That sounds so fun!" Ice Blade smiled.

"They seem okay. I probably would've reacted the same way in their situation." Tide admitted, though she still rubbed her side where you'd managed to shock her.

"I'm alright with it. They're stable, by the way." Inferno said, emerging from your room.

"Then its decided. I'll call the higher ups now and see what we can do." Gaea announced. With that their team meeting dispersed. By the time you woke up the next day, your new life would already have been decided for you.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"I refuse!" Ever since you'd woken up in an unfamiliar bedroom, you'd been surrounded by the same heroes who had ruined your life. In fact, Gaea had just explained that you wouldn't be allowed to leave until they had 'fixed you' and deemed you 'non-dangerous to yourself and others'. On top of that, you had been handcuffed to the bed you were laying on so you couldn't even do anything.

"Well you don't get a say." Inferno said, crossing his arms. He sat at your bedside, literally radiating warmth, to help combat the mild hypothermia you'd contracted.

"You should be happy. We saved you from being sent to jail and ruining your life." Ice Blade said, frowning.

"Blade, you can't just say that!" Tide hissed, smacking him in the back of the head. The two of them began quietly bickering but you were too busy glaring at Gaea to be entertained.

"I'd rather go back to my governmentally mandated family then stay here." You said, which was an insult in your book because you hated your governmentally mandated family.

"That's too bad. Here, we need to keep your temperature up." Dan said, offering you a steaming cup of herbal tea. You refused to take it, eyeing him skeptically.

"They aren't going to take it. Let's just leave them be for now." Gaea said, grabbing Tide and Blade by their costumes and dragging them out of the room. Dan set the tea on a small bedside table while Inferno stayed at your side.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

"I'm not eating that."

Gaea looked like she was about to have a brain aneurysm and Dan looked disappointed. They'd been attempting to feed you dinner, seeing as you were still handcuffed to the bed.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this. Eat your vegetables." Gaea said. She was smiling, but you could feel the anger radiating off of her.

"What if I was allergic?" You asked.

"We were sent your file, which includes all your records. You are not allergic to vegetables." Dan sighed, holding out the fork. 

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want them. You're not my mom." You huffed, turning to face the wall.

"Dan? Remind me of their age."

"Fourteen, why?"

"Because I could've sworn we were dealing with a toddler for a second." Gaea groaned. You smiled to yourself as you heard the two of them leave the room. If you could just annoy them enough then maybe they'd give up on you and let you leave.

"Y/N!" You groaned, attempting to smother yourself with the provided pillow as Ice Blade burst into the room. "Dan let me see you!"

"I really wish he hadn't." You muttered. 

"Hey! That's not nice!" You could practically hear the pout in his voice. It didn't take long for him to plop down onto the bed and attempt to rouse you.

"Leave me alone." You glared at him, almost daring him to try something.

"Nope! Dan said we aren't allowed to leave you completely alone until your actual room is finished, because this one is just temporary! I hope it's next to mine! I've never had a baby sibling before!"

"Don't call me that!" You hissed, throwing your pillow at him. He caught it, thanks to hero training or whatever, but his smile never faltered.

"Wow. I leave you alone for two minutes and they look more murderous then before." Gaea said from the doorway. She was holding a smoothie that she placed on your bedside.

"Now, this smoothie is for you. It has some nutrient powder and fruit. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is you drink it all right now and we can get on with our days. The hard way is we leave you here until you're so hungry you beg for whatever scraps we may have to give you." You could tell from her tone that she wasn't joking. Seems you'd finally hit your limit. Still it was either smoothie or Ice Blade...

You swallowed your pride and drank the stupid smoothie, looking miserable the entire time. It wasn't fair that it didn't taste bad either. You hated it here and it hadn't even been a day.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

You were finally being let outside, which was rather humiliating to admit. Ever since your kidnapping, or 'rehoming' as they called it, you'd been stuck in their hero agency while they worked on fixing up a room for you and alternating patrols. However, none of them had clothes for a 14 year old, and you refused to wear anything of theirs so they'd been rewashing your clothes every day.

Therefore you were being taken shopping... with three babysitters. During the week or so you'd been trapped here you'd started to work out the dynamics between the five of them. Gaea and Dan were the exasperated parents who were stuck with a bunch of kids. 

Inferno was the emo son who was convinced that dying his hair black wasn't a phase. Tide was the middle child who got away with everything. Ice Blade was the youngest who annoyed everyone and was barely tolerated because there wasn't another choice.

Or maybe you were the youngest now... You really hoped they weren't getting attached to you, because you were still plotting ways to escape.

Right now you were being forced to hold Gaea's hand like you were a child as you waited to leave. Inferno, Blake was his civilian name, was standing to the side on his phone and Tide, Phoebe, was looking for her coat. Gaea had just insisted you call her 'mother' while out and hadn't given you her civilian name.

You refused and just decided you would never address her while outside.

"Phoebe, just wear a different coat!" Inferno, or Blake you guessed you should call him, yelled.

"I want my red coat!" She yelled back. It took her five minutes more before Gaea handed you over to Blake and found the coat in 0.2 seconds.

"Now lets go. Y/N, absolutely no funny business." Gaea said, her eyes narrowed.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Shopping was just as boring as you remembered it to be. Gaea dragged you to different clothing stores, and forced you to pick out some items from each. There were also some clothes she added to the cart that you hadn't picked.

Finally, you'd put your foot down on any more clothes shopping, so you'd been dragged to some sort of home decor place to pick out some things for your room. You were begrudgingly looking at some sheet sets, while Blake and Phoebe added unnecessary commentary.

"Ezekiel's being annoying." Phoebe said, looking at her phone. Ezekiel being Ice Blade's civilian name. You tried to wander away but Blake stopped you, redirecting you towards the sheets.

"Y/N, no. Gia said to pick at least one." Blake said to you before turning to answer Phoebe. "He's the same in and out of costume. You know that."

"No. I don't like any of them." You said. You really wanted the sheets from the apartment you had shared with your dad. Having to get all of this new stuff was off putting and overwhelming. You also took note of the fact that Gaea's civilian name was apparently Gia.

"You need to pick one." Blake repeated. You shook your head.

"No! None of them are right! I don't want any of them!" You yelled. You didn't want to start crying but your eyes burned. You couldn't explain why everything felt so wrong but you needed them to listen.

"Y/N. You are fourteen. Please do not act like a child right now." Gia said, walking down the aisle. You shook your head, trying to back away but being stopped by Blake and Phoebe.

"Fine. Then I'll pick but I don't want to hear you complain later." Gia sighed, walking over to the sheet sets and picking one up.

You just silently stood there, glaring at the ground as tears ran down your face. You tried your best to tune out the world around you, ignoring Gia's questions about whether the set was good enough. Blake and Phoebe's whispers became a quiet white noise as your ears started to ring.

You weren't sure why it was hitting you so hard now. You'd never had this kind of emotional response when you'd been placed with your governmentally mandated family. Then again, they hadn't taken you shopping, just set you up with stuff they already had. Maybe it was the fact that you were being forced to make a choice you didn't want that had finally pushed you over the edge.

You wordlessly let yourself be dragged to each section, not answering anything that was asked of you. You didn't care about blankets or sheets or decor. It wouldn't be the same as it was at your dads. It wouldn't be as perfect as it was at your dads.

"How about this?" Phoebe asked you, handing you a fuzzy blanket. You didn't react but she placed it into the cart anyway. Blake did the same when it came to a few decorative pillows. By the time you were done 'shopping' it was nearing lunch time and you were dragged to the food court to pick out something.

Blake ordered for you when you still hadn't snapped out of your mental prison, but you barely took a few bites. Food just made you nauseous and the thought of these monsters trying to replace your dad made everything worse. 

You wanted nothing more than to have this all be a bad dream you would wake up from.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

By the time you'd been dragged back to their base, you were still retreated into your mind. The mug of tea Dan had handed you when you stepped through the door had cooled in your hands. Even Ice Blade's annoying existence, Ezekiel because he was in his civilian getup, had become nothing to you.

You hadn't eaten much at the mall, or even for breakfast, but you weren't hungry. Instead you had curled up on an armchair, because Gia was busy making your new bed 'the right way'. You wanted nothing more than to disappear beneath the sheets, even if they were wrong in the worst ways, and pretend you were a kid again, waiting for your dad to come home.

You barely registered Dan sadly prying the cold and untouched mug from your hands. To you the entire world was going in slow motion. You didn't pick up on anything, much less the conversation happening in whispers right in front of you.

"They didn't even touch the tea... When did they start acting this detached?" Dan asked Phoebe.

"After Gia made them pick out some sheets. They had some sort of breakdown and well..." Phoebe gestured to your detached state. Dan let out a worried hum.

"That's worrying... I don't think they had a record of depressive episodes. Then again, the family they were assigned to after the death of their father did admit they didn't spend much time with them. Maybe they just never noticed?" Dan was frowning deeper, staring at you sympathetically.

"Well, they've got Blake stress baking so at least they'll be something to eat when they do wake up." Ezekiel said, joining the conversation with a freshly baked muffin in hand. It looked to be chocolate chip.

"Everything is set up. Is Blake in the kitchen again?" Gia asked, exiting the room that they had decided would be yours.

"When is he not? Plus, the kid is really stressing him out." Phoebe said, despite her own worried look.

"Want a muffin?" Ezekiel asked, offering his own half eaten muffin. Gia gave him a look and pushed his arm away.

"I don't understand why they're acting like this. They were perfectly fine this morning."

"I might have an idea." Blake said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of muffins. He placed the plate beside you before moving over to the others. "It could be that it made them remember their dad."

"That's why they were saying it was wrong. It wasn't just going shopping with us that was wrong, it was the sheets themself." Phoebe said. 

Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place for all of them. Every sorrow tied back to your father. Your father, who meant everything to you. Your father who they'd found dying in an alleyway from a stab wound. Your father who they hadn't managed to save. Your father, who they gotten the credit for 'taking another vigilante off the streets'. Your father, who they never tried to correct the press or government about his cause of death. 

That night had sat with all of them in different ways. Some of them had been brand new to the group, tagging along with their more seasoned peers. Some of them had just been trying to get through another patrol without incident. The truth behind that night had never left the five of them.

"Their old apartment... is there anyway to access it?" Gia asked.

"I doubt it. It's likely been sold with all the old stuff thrown out." Dan said, his tone somber. 

"I think we should at least look into it." Ezekiel said, finishing his muffin. "There could be something."

"We can at least try... for Y/N."

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

It had taken you a day or two to finally return to feeling in control of your body. Despite that, you still obviously not okay. You refused to touch the bed you'd been given, and barely even entered what was supposed to be your room.

You'd crash on the living room couch or armchair when you did sleep and it was never for long. Usually you'd get three or four hours before waking up from some sort of nightmare. Then you'd spend the rest of the night watching something quietly on the communal TV or playing around on your phone until you passed out again.

It was often for Ezekiel, surprisingly the early riser of the team, to find you curled up wherever you decide to sleep in the morning. He'd learned the hard way, with you punching him in the face and leaving him with a nasty bruise, not to wake you up.

It was clear to the whole team that you weren't doing well. There were permanent bags under your eyes and you always seemed half asleep. You couldn't even muster up the sarcasm they'd gotten used to from you.

It had gotten to the point where Dan had dragged you out to buy some laundry detergent and dryer sheets with him so you could pick out something familiar. It helped a little, but you still refused to touch 'your' bed.

Until one day, Gia announced that she had a surprise for you. So you, and the rest of the team, had been unceremoniously shoved into her surprisingly large car for a drive to some mystery location.

Phoebe was complaining over how you'd gotten shotgun, Ezekiel was begging you to play his playlist because you were closest to the aux cord. Blake and Dan were having some debate based on some show they'd watched. Gia was yelling at everyone to shut up, yet still driving perfectly and you were wishing you had a pair of noise cancelling headphones.

"Alright. Everyone except Y/N out of the car." Gia demanded once she'd stopped in front of a small cafe.

"Huh? Then where are you going and why'd we have to come?" Ezekiel asked with a pout.

"Me and Y/N are doing something special. I didn't want anyone, but especially you, to destroy the base while we're gone. Have some drinks and pastries and I'll pick you up in a bit." It still took a harsh glare from her to make everyone leave the car. You watched them entering the cafe through the rearview mirror as she sped off again.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

You were staring out the window, lost in thought, when you realized the buildings were beginning to look more and more familiar. This was your old neighborhood, the one you grew up in.

You turned to Gia, who didn't react. Instead she kept her eyes on the road, only occasionally glancing at the GPS. It was silent save for the low hum of the car. Slowly the car came closer and closer to your old apartment building.

"When I was barely eight years old," Gia started, "my parents were killed by a villain."

You stared at her as she parked the car outside of your old building. Her face had a sad expression on it as she looked at you, attempting a weak smile.

"This was in the older days, before the new government and rise of heroes. The villain escaped and wasn't caught for another three years. I remember in that time wondering what I, or my parents, had ever done to deserve that. I wanted to find that villain so bad, to avenge my parents. I tried sneaking out multiple times to hunt him down."

Your brain was trying to soak up the new information she was telling you. It was hard to imagine the uptight and serious Gia trying to sneak out to do something so dangerous. Something so similar to what you had done.

"The only reason I didn't was because the family I was placed with made sure I never did that to myself. They made sure I was safe, and encouraged me to process my feelings in less harmful ways. When it was discovered I had powers I was offered to train under some of the top heroes and I took it. I interned under the top hero team for a long time, far before they were elected to power. After that, I took over as a leader within the new generation of hero teams." Gia paused, taking a deep breath.

"What I'm trying to say is, I can understand where you're coming from. But eventually, you will need to learn to move forward. We, all of us, want to help you with that. You're destroying yourself right now. You barely eat or sleep and you're always on edge. Hopefully, what we're here for will help a little, but I need you to try your best to start to heal."

With that Gia opened her door and climbed out of the car, you following silently. You trailed behind her as she pulled out a key and led you to your old apartment.

"I called the landlord the other day. No one has rented the place yet, seeing as a lot of the people who lived here are moving towards downtown and their jobs. Because of that, the stuff you left here hasn't been touched. I want you to take what you need to feel comfortable." She said, unlocking the door. 

It looked just the way you had left it, albeit more dusty. The sight brought tears to your eyes. Photos of you, some with your dad, lined the walls. You hesitantly stepped into the apartment, tears filling your eyes as memories replayed in your head. On autopilot you walked over to your old room. 

It was just as you'd left it. Your dresser was open from when you'd been forced to pack light to be moved in with the family you'd been placed with. Your bed was still half made. Nothing had changed, like the room had been frozen in time. Slowly you walked back out into the hallway and made your way to your dad's room.

His clothes were just as he left them, neatly folded on his bed waiting to be put away. His bed was neatly made, just the way he liked it. On his nightstand was a picture of you on your ninth birthday, smiling with a plastic crown on your head. You sunk to the floor, feeling around for a lose floorboard which you pried up. Under it lay the remnants of his vigilante gear. Some grappling hooks and a spare mask. 

Picking up the mask was what made you finally break down. You sobbed, holding onto it like a lifeline. You could only hope your father was happy wherever he was right now.

˗ˏˋ 🌩️⚡️🌩️ ˎˊ˗

Gia drove silently, her hands firm on the wheel as she kept glancing over at you. You'd fallen asleep the second you'd finished packing what you wanted to bring with you. That included a couple of sheet sets as well as a bunch of photos and clothes. 

When she picked up the rest of the team from where she'd dumped them, not one of them had made more noise then necessary, very aware that you needed the sleep. 

Back at the base Gia quietly instructed the others to grab the things you'd wanted while she went to gently lift you out of the car. She froze when you wrapped your arms around her neck, groaning at the light. 

With a smile she carried you inside to the couch. Laying you down and covering you with a fluffy blanket. Within seconds you'd fallen back into a deep sleep, completely at peace. In a few hours, all the laundry would be done and you'd finally have what you needed to feel comfortable there.

Soon you'd trust them more. Then, you'd begin to talk to them and you'd stop trying to be unnecessarily difficult. You'd have a family again and you'd never want for anything again. Not if they could help it. 

After all, once the higher ups saw that rehabilitation was a successful option, she'd petition for permanent custody. Then you'd legally be a part of their patchwork family for good.

[urdreamydoodles]

For DC, would you mayhaps write about picking them up when they aren't expecting, or just didn't think you could, almighty writer?

DC COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You pick them up as if they weighed absolutely nothing

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara, Dinah Lance, Wally West, Victor Stone (Cyborg), Garfield Logan (Beast Boy) & Lobo

Reply to anon: If I understood your request correctly (I really hope so), I love you for this request, it was so fun to write this headcanon.

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

- It is a rare thing to catch Bruce Wayne off guard, a feat most would deem impossible. He is a man of precision, calculation, and control, his every move rehearsed in the dark solitude of his mind long before it is executed. And yet, when you lift him into your arms with the ease of a shadow passing over the city, all his legendary foresight shatters in an instant. His breath stutters—just once, imperceptible to anyone but you—and his gloved hands instinctively grasp your shoulders, as if to confirm the absurd reality of what is happening. The weight of Gotham’s protector, cradled so effortlessly against you, is a secret victory that sends a slow smile curling at the edges of your lips.

- "Tch," he exhales, the sound more air than voice, his dark eyes narrowing in something between astonishment and begrudging amusement. "You’ve been holding out on me." His pride does not allow him to admit the full extent of his surprise, but the way his fingers tighten ever so slightly against your arms betrays him. Bruce Wayne is not a man who enjoys being caught unaware, and yet—there is something in the way you handle him, something in the unwavering steadiness of your grip, that quiets the usual tension that knots his body like a bowstring drawn too tight.

- He does not struggle. He does not order you to put him down. No, he merely tilts his head, calculating, the sharp angles of his face betraying the ghost of a smirk. "I assume you have a reason for this," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp against your ear. "Or do you just enjoy surprising me?" It is a challenge, an invitation, and perhaps, in some small way, a confession. For all his formidable strength, for all the ways he has trained himself to never relinquish control—there is a part of him that does not mind being held by you.

- Later, when the moment has passed and Gotham calls him away once more, he does not mention it. But you notice the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his fingers brush against your wrist just a little longer than necessary. And when, the next time, you reach for him with that same effortless power, you swear you see the corner of his lips quirk upward—just for a second—before he allows himself to fall into your embrace.

Kal-El (Clark Kent, Superman)

- The sky belongs to him, the very air bending to his will, the world itself no heavier than a breath upon his palm. And yet, when you lift him into your arms, when you cradle the Man of Steel as if he were something as light and effortless as a whisper, it is his turn to be left breathless. His blue eyes widen—just slightly, just enough for you to catch the flicker of disbelief that dances through them like a shooting star. "Whoa," he exhales, the sheer sincerity in his voice making you laugh. "Did you—did you just—?"

- He does not finish his sentence, because the answer is obvious. He is here, weightless in your grasp, and despite all reason, he cannot quite seem to wrap his mind around it. He has lifted mountains, shifted tectonic plates, carried entire cities upon his back—but this, this is something entirely different. He peers down at you with a mixture of awe and delight, a boyish grin breaking across his features, and suddenly, he is not Superman, not the Last Son of Krypton, but simply Clark—a farm boy who has just been shown a new miracle in a world that he thought he had seen from every angle.

- "Well," he laughs, resting his hands lightly on your shoulders, his touch warm, steady. "I guess turnabout is fair play." He is not used to being the one lifted, the one held, and there is something undeniably endearing about the way he lets himself be carried, as if surrendering to the simple joy of the moment. His grin softens into something fonder, something gentler, and his voice dips to a lower timbre, laced with that impossible tenderness that only he can wield so effortlessly. "You are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

- Later, as you stand together beneath the open sky, he will wrap his arms around you and lift you high into the air, spinning you in a slow, weightless circle, as if to remind you that the universe still bows to his strength. But the truth, the quiet, unspoken truth, is that he will remember this moment—not for the sheer impossibility of it, not for the surprise of being lifted, but for the way you looked at him as you did it. As if he was something precious. As if he was something worth carrying.

Barry Allen (The Flash)

- One second, he is standing before you, mid-sentence, hands moving animatedly as he rambles about some impossible feat of science, some breakthrough that only his mind could possibly keep up with. And the next—he is airborne. Suspended. A blur of red and gold frozen in time as you hoist him effortlessly into your arms, his entire train of thought derailing so spectacularly that for the first time in what is possibly ever, Barry Allen is at a complete and utter loss for words.

- His blue eyes blink, wide with sheer, unfiltered astonishment. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, as if struggling to find a logical explanation for what just happened. "What—how did you—" He pauses, glances down at himself, then back at you. "Okay. Alright. This is fine. This is normal. Totally normal. This is a thing that happens." His words come faster now, a breathless tumble of disbelief and delight, and despite the initial shock, there is no fear—only pure, infectious amusement.

- And then he laughs. Oh, he laughs—bright and bubbling over, like the crackle of lightning against an open sky, his body practically vibrating with sheer giddiness. "I mean, I know I’ve swept you off your feet before, but this—this is a whole new level." His arms loop around your neck, dramatic and theatrical, his head tilting back as he lets himself be cradled as if he were some fairytale damsel. "Be honest, you’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?"

- He will tease you about this for weeks, recounting the moment with exaggerated flair to anyone who will listen. But there will also be the quiet moments—when he leans against you just a little more than usual, when his hands linger at your waist as if remembering the steady strength of your arms. And maybe, just maybe, the next time you catch him at full speed, he will let you lift him once more—just to feel, for a fleeting moment, what it’s like to be caught by you.

Diana of Themyscira (Wonder Woman)

- The daughter of gods, sculpted from sacred clay, raised among warriors whose strength is the stuff of legend. To surprise Diana is no easy task, for she has spent centuries honing herself into something divine, something unyielding. And yet—when you lift her into your arms, when you cradle her as if she were no heavier than a whispered prayer, the Goddess of Truth is rendered momentarily speechless.

- Her lips part, her brows lifting ever so slightly, and though she does not gasp, does not falter, there is an undeniable flicker of astonishment in her gaze. "You are stronger than you appear," she muses, her voice warm, touched with something akin to admiration. A warrior recognizes another, and in this moment, she sees you in a new light—not merely as her love, but as something formidable, something unexpected.

- And then, she smiles. Not a small smile, not a coy smirk, but something radiant—something that reaches her eyes, that sets her entire face alight with unmistakable joy. "Impressive," she hums, resting a steady hand against your shoulder. "Though, I must admit, I rather enjoy this perspective." There is a teasing lilt to her voice, a challenge dancing at the edges of her words. It is rare for anyone to hold her in such a way, but she finds, quite unexpectedly, that she does not mind it at all.

- Later, she will return the favor with ease, sweeping you into her arms without effort, carrying you across battlefields, across cities, across oceans. But in that moment, in the quiet space between surprise and laughter, she allows herself to rest in your hold, to relish the warmth of your embrace, to be held—not as a warrior, not as a princess, but simply as a woman who loves, and is loved in return.

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

- Arthur Curry is not a man accustomed to feeling small. He is a king, a warrior, a force of nature bound in muscle and salt, the weight of oceans resting upon his shoulders. He has wrestled sea monsters the size of mountains, stood unyielding against the fury of the abyss, and emerged from every battle with the untamed, feral grin of a man who belongs to the storm. But when you lift him—when your arms curl around him with a strength that defies reason, hoisting him off solid ground as if he were nothing but driftwood—his entire world tilts. His golden eyes widen, stunned, his calloused hands gripping instinctively at your shoulders as if the sea itself has betrayed him.

- "What the—?" His voice is a startled rumble, a sharp bark of laughter cutting through the shock. His thick brows furrow, then lift, his expression wavering somewhere between indignation and absolute, boyish delight. He has never been handled like this, not even by the tides he calls home, and it is as absurd as it is exhilarating. "Alright, alright, I get it," he grumbles, though his smirk betrays him. "You’ve been hiding those muscles from me, huh?" There is no protest, no attempt to reclaim his dominance—only the rough, teasing warmth of a man who knows when to yield to the unexpected.

- He tests you, just a little, shifting his weight in your arms as if daring you to drop him. But you don’t. Not even close. And something in his grin turns sharper, more wicked, because he loves this—loves being surprised, loves the way you refuse to let him be the only powerful one in the room. "Damn," he chuckles, low and approving, his gaze sweeping over you with something hungry, something possessive. "That’s actually kinda hot."

- When you finally put him down, he doesn’t step back. No, he lingers—crowds close, his massive frame still buzzing with the thrill of it. And then, without warning, his arms are around you, hoisting you off your feet with ease, spinning you in a full, dizzying circle before crushing you against his chest. "Had to return the favor," he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with laughter. "But next time, sweetheart? Give a king some warning before you knock him off his throne."

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

- Hal Jordan is weightless before you can even blink. A man accustomed to soaring, to the rush of flight beneath his ribs, he has never once imagined himself being lifted—not without the emerald glow of his will forging the sky beneath his feet. But now, here, in your arms, held effortlessly with no ring, no power beyond the sheer impossible strength of you—Hal is, for the first time in his life, truly speechless.

- "You—hold on, what?" His voice cracks, laughter bubbling out of him in a disbelieving rush. His hands press against your shoulders, his pulse hammering with something electric, something wild. "Oh, no way. No freaking way." His mouth splits into a grin, bright and reckless, his green eyes alight with sheer, giddy amusement. "Are you messing with me? Is this some kind of—?" But no, there’s no trickery, no constructs at play, just you, standing solid beneath him while the world spins wildly out of sync with everything he thought he knew.

- And he loves it. Oh, he loves it. Because Hal Jordan lives for the unexpected, for the thrill of new frontiers, for the rush of facing the impossible head-on. And you—lifting him like he’s nothing, standing there with that knowing smirk—you are a whole new adventure, and he is utterly, shamelessly hooked. "This is amazing," he declares, wrapping his arms around your neck, leaning in close, grinning like a devil who has just been handed the keys to heaven. "You do realize I’m never gonna let you live this down, right?"

- He doesn’t stop talking about it. Ever. The next time the League gathers, he flings an arm around your shoulder and grins at the others. "You guys won’t believe this," he announces, smug and gleeful. "This one? Picked me up like I was a damn sack of potatoes. I mean, look at me! Look at this!" And when the teasing inevitably turns back on him, when Barry is cackling and Diana is arching a knowing brow, Hal just shrugs, utterly unapologetic. "Hey," he says, looping his arms around you once more, flashing you that impossibly charming, infuriatingly smug grin. "What can I say? I’m into it."

Oliver Queen (Green Arrow)

- Oliver Queen has spent his life dancing on the edge of danger, slipping through shadows and fire with the unshakable confidence of a man who always lands on his feet. But this—this was not in his playbook. One moment, he’s standing there, all easy smirks and smooth arrogance, and the next? His feet leave the ground, his entire world tilting as you lift him with effortless strength, cradling him as if he were something delicate. And for the first time in years, Oliver Queen has no immediate comeback.

- "…You’ve got to be kidding me." His voice is flat, stunned, as his hands instinctively grip your shoulders. His green eyes blink once, twice, his mouth parting in absolute disbelief. "Did that just—did you just—?" And then it happens—the breathless chuckle, the slow realization, the sudden shift from shock to pure, unfiltered amusement. A wide, toothy grin breaks across his face, bright as wildfire, and before you know it, he’s laughing, full-bodied and unrestrained. "Oh, I love this," he gasps between chuckles, eyes gleaming. "I love this. Are you seeing this? Someone take a picture—no, wait, don’t, I have a reputation to uphold."

- He throws himself into the bit immediately, draping an arm over his forehead as if he’s some swooning noble. "My hero," he sighs dramatically, peeking at you from beneath his lashes. "How will I ever repay you for saving me from the perils of standing?" His grin is wicked, challenging, but there’s something beneath it—something warm, something fond, something that lingers even as his laughter fades into something quieter, something real.

- Later, when he’s sprawled beside you, still smirking, he nudges your side with his elbow. "You know," he muses, tapping his chin, "I think I might need saving again sometime soon." And then, without warning, he flings himself at you, arms wrapping around your neck with all the grace of a man who knows damn well you’ll catch him. "Quick, sweetheart," he grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Before gravity kicks back in."

John Constantine

- John Constantine has seen many things in his life—things that would shatter the minds of lesser men, things that slither and whisper in the dark, things that crawl beneath the skin of the world and rot it from the inside out. But this? This is something else entirely. One second, he’s standing there, cigarette between his lips, coat draped lazily over his shoulders, and the next? He’s airborne. Lifted. Weightless. And utterly, utterly done with this reality.

- "Bloody hell," he curses, his usual rasp of sarcasm momentarily failing him. His cigarette nearly tumbles from his lips as he grips at your arms, wide-eyed, indignant. "You having a laugh, love?" But you don’t waver, don’t so much as break a sweat, and that realization sends something flickering through his gaze—something wary, something intrigued, something dangerously close to impressed.

- "Well, that’s just embarrassing," he mutters, exhaling smoke through his nose, tilting his head as he eyes you with newfound consideration. "And here I thought I was the one with all the tricks up me sleeve." He shifts in your arms, testing the hold, then smirks, lazy and sharp. "Alright then. Carry on, darling. Just make sure you don’t drop me—I’d hate to spill me pint."

- Later, when he’s sitting with you, fingers tapping against his glass, he glances your way with something softer hidden beneath the bite of his words. "Next time," he murmurs, swirling his drink, "maybe give a bloke a warning before you decide to turn his world upside down, yeah?" But there’s no real protest, no real annoyance. Just the lingering, undeniable truth—he liked it. He liked you. And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous magic of all.

Roy Harper (Arsenal)

- Roy Harper has been thrown, knocked down, and sent flying more times than he can count. But this? This is different. One second, he’s standing there—grinning, cocky, weight shifted lazily onto one hip—and the next, his feet leave the ground. For the first time in a long time, Roy Harper is caught instead of doing the catching. His mouth opens, a sharp inhale of surprise, his arms flailing for balance, but there’s nothing for him to do except accept it. And he absolutely, completely does not know how to handle that.

- "H-hold up—wait—what the hell?" The words tumble from his lips in a startled bark of laughter, his hands instinctively clutching at your shoulders. His blue eyes are wide, scanning your face for some kind of explanation. "You just—how did you—?" His brain stutters over itself, trying to make sense of it. It’s not that he thinks you’re weak—hell no—but he knows how heavy he is, how solidly he’s built, and the fact that you lifted him like he was nothing? That’s something else entirely.

- Then, of course, the reality of it sinks in, and Roy Harper, being Roy Harper, does what he does best—he leans into it. "Damn, babe," he whistles, his signature smirk creeping across his face. "If I’d known you were this strong, I’d have made you carry me around ages ago." He shifts slightly in your arms, testing your grip, then settles in with an exaggerated sigh, draping an arm over his forehead like a damsel in distress. "Guess I don’t need to hit the gym anymore—got myself a personal lifter right here."

- And when you finally put him down? He doesn’t walk away. No, he sticks close, bumping his hip against yours, looking up at you with a mix of mischief and something warmer. "You’re full of surprises," he murmurs, his voice dropping just slightly, almost thoughtful. And then, with a wicked grin, he adds, "So... how do you feel about carrying me to bed, sweetheart?"

Koriand’r (Starfire)

- Koriand’r is no stranger to flight, to weightlessness, to the effortless way she moves through the sky with the sun’s fire at her back. But being lifted by you—by your hands, your strength, your unwavering confidence—is something she has never felt before. And it stuns her. Not out of fear, nor shock, nor disbelief—no, it is something softer, something warmer, something that spreads through her chest like the first rays of dawn.

- "Oh!" The delighted gasp slips from her lips as her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, golden eyes blinking in wide-eyed surprise. For a moment, she simply looks at you, studying your face, as if committing this feeling to memory. And then, as quickly as the surprise came, it melts into sheer, unrestrained joy. "Oh, my love!" she exclaims, her voice a bright melody of laughter, her fingers tangling in your hair as she tilts her head. "This is wonderful!"

- She does not hesitate to make herself comfortable, resting easily in your hold, her warmth seeping into your skin like sunlight. "You are so strong!" she praises, her voice dripping with admiration, her eyes glowing with pure, genuine awe. "Why did you not tell me before? We could have done this so many times!" There is no embarrassment, no hesitation—only the full, boundless embrace of a woman who loves fiercely, who takes nothing for granted, who cherishes this moment for all it is.

- And later, when you place her back down, she does not simply walk away. No, she hovers, her hands still cradling your face, her lips pressing a kiss—soft, lingering, grateful—against your cheek. "I must carry you next," she declares, her voice rich with excitement. "It is only fair!" And then, before you can protest, she sweeps you into her arms, laughing as she soars into the sky, twirling you through the air in a radiant, dizzying dance of love.

Kara Zor-El (Supergirl)

- Kara Zor-El is used to being the strongest person in the room. She has spent her life holding back, careful with every touch, every movement, every breath, always hyper-aware of her own power. But you—lifting her so effortlessly, holding her as if her strength does not matter—it knocks the breath from her lungs in a way no villain, no kryptonite, ever has.

- "Wha—wait, what?" Her voice is higher than usual, startled, her hands gripping your shoulders instinctively as her legs dangle in the air. Her wide, blue eyes blink rapidly, scanning your face for some sort of answer. "You—you picked me up?" She sounds offended for a split second before the reality of it truly hits her, before the corners of her lips twitch and something suspiciously close to a giggle bubbles in her throat. "You picked me up."

- And then she’s laughing—full-bodied, bright, joyful—because it’s so ridiculous, so absurd, and so absolutely wonderful. "Oh my god," she wheezes, her head dropping against your shoulder as she shakes with laughter. "I love this." She leans back, resting easily in your arms, grinning up at you with an expression so full of delight it’s almost blinding. "How are you this strong? Have you been holding out on me? Are you secretly Kryptonian? Oh my god, are we long-lost cousins? Should I call Clark?"

- When you finally put her down, she immediately tests you again—jumping at you with zero warning, wrapping her arms around your neck, trusting you to catch her. And when you do? She beams. "Again," she demands, eyes bright with exhilaration. "Again!" And suddenly, she’s obsessed. She will never let this go. You have doomed yourself to a lifetime of Supergirl dramatically flinging herself into your arms at the most inconvenient moments.

Slade Wilson (Deathstroke)

- Slade Wilson does not like surprises. He is a man who calculates every outcome, who moves with precision, who keeps his world meticulously controlled. He does not get caught off guard. But this—the sudden shift in gravity, the impossible strength behind your touch, the way his feet leave the ground—this is a surprise so profound that, for one fleeting second, the legendary Deathstroke is stunned.

- His single eye narrows sharply, his body tensing instinctively, a thousand battle instincts screaming at him to react. But there is no attack, no enemy—only you, holding him like he is something fragile, something weightless, something you can control without effort. And that—that—is what truly catches him off guard. "Well," he rumbles, his voice dangerously low, "this is new."

- He does not panic. He does not flail or struggle. No, Slade Wilson merely analyzes, his sharp mind whirring as he studies your face, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly—so slowly it’s almost imperceptible—the corners of his lips twitch into something that is almost amusement. "You’ve been keeping secrets," he murmurs, the faintest ghost of a smirk curving his lips. "That’s dangerous."

- When you finally set him down, he does not step away. No, he lingers, his presence a solid, immovable force as he tilts his head, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. And then, just as you think the moment has passed, he reaches out—gripping your wrist with a strength that rivals your own. "My turn," he states simply, before sweeping you up effortlessly, his smirk widening as he watches your expression shift. "Now, let’s see how you handle surprises."

Kent Nelson (Doctor Fate)

- Kent Nelson is a man who has lived through centuries of battles, his mind tethered to the ancient wisdom of Nabu, weighed down by the knowledge of the cosmos. He is not easily shaken. He has fought demons, walked through dimensions where the laws of gravity bend and break, and seen the rise and fall of civilizations. And yet, for all his experience, for all his wisdom, nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the moment when you pick him up like he is no heavier than a feather caught in the wind.

- His body stills immediately, the flowing gold of his cloak pooling in your arms, his gauntleted hands frozen mid-motion as if his mind is struggling to catch up with his reality. He has faced eldritch horrors that defy comprehension, but this—this is something else entirely. "...Interesting." The word is measured, calm, but you can hear the faint edge of bewilderment in his voice. Beneath the helmet of Fate, his expression remains unreadable, but you can feel the way he is processing. Analyzing. Calculating how this is even possible.

- "There are few beings in existence who could accomplish this," he finally murmurs, and the weight of his words is almost laughable. But there is something else beneath them—something softer. Awe. Intrigue. A deep and abiding reverence for the unknown, for the mysteries of the universe that even he has yet to unravel. And right now? You are one of those mysteries. A puzzle he had not anticipated, but one he finds himself eager to solve. His fingers trail along your shoulder, light as a whisper, as if trying to feel the power beneath your skin.

- And then, in a rare moment of levity, the corners of his lips curve into something that is not quite a smile but something like it. "I wonder," he muses, "if Nabu knew about this." There is an unmistakable note of amusement in his voice, and you can tell—tell—that he is already planning the next time he can test your strength again. Doctor Fate may be bound to destiny, but Kent Nelson? Kent Nelson has just discovered something infinitely more interesting than fate itself: you.

Rachel Roth (Raven)

- Raven is used to control, to restraint. She has spent her life mastering herself, holding back, ensuring that nothing—not a single tremor of emotion—escapes without her permission. But control means nothing when you sweep her off her feet without warning. One moment, she is standing in the comfort of your presence, and the next, the world tilts—her balance stolen, gravity defied—and she finds herself cradled in your arms.

- "What—" The word is cut off, her breath catching in her throat, violet eyes wide and blinking as if she has glitched. It is not fear—Raven does not fear you—but it is shock, raw and unfiltered, slipping past the walls she has so carefully constructed. No one lifts her. No one dares. She is Raven, daughter of Trigon, wielder of darkness, but you—you lift her as though she is made of something far lighter, far softer. "...How?" The question is quiet, but laced with something dangerously close to wonder.

- And then, after a long, weighted pause, her lips part again. "Put me down." The words are flat, carefully neutral, but the telltale blush dusting her pale cheeks betrays her. You hold her a moment longer—just long enough to see the way her fingers twitch as if fighting the urge to grab onto you—and then, finally, you comply. The moment her feet touch the ground, she crosses her arms, tilting her chin slightly as if regaining her composure. But the faintest flicker of amusement sparks in her eyes. "You could have warned me."

- But later—later—when she thinks you aren’t looking, you catch her staring at you. Calculating. Considering. And the next time she finds herself in your arms? There is no sharp inhale, no startled demand to be put down. There is only the way her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, the way she allows herself to lean into your warmth. And if, just once, you hear the quietest whisper of "Again." as she buries her face in your neck, well... you say nothing.

Zatanna Zatara

- Zatanna is a performer. She has dazzled crowds, charmed audiences, and bent the very fabric of reality to her will with a flourish of her hands. She is a woman who makes the impossible look effortless. But what she does not expect—what she cannot predict—is you pulling a trick of your own. One moment, she is speaking, hands gesturing mid-sentence, and the next, she is in the air, her words dissolving into a startled gasp as she finds herself in your arms.

- "Well, hello there!" she exclaims, blinking in surprise before laughter spills from her lips, bright and genuine. "Was that part of the show? Because if so, I think I missed my cue." Her dark lashes flutter as she tilts her head, studying you with a slow, appreciative smirk. "And here I thought I was the one full of surprises." The twinkle in her eyes is unmistakable, a magician recognizing another masterful trick.

- "You have to tell me how you did that," she continues, wrapping her arms around your neck in a movement so seamless, so graceful, that it’s as if she was always meant to be there. "Strength spell? Secret training? Or—" she leans in, voice dropping to a playful whisper, "are you actually just a natural-born showstopper?" There is no flustered stammering, no embarrassment—only delight, only curiosity, only the unmistakable thrill of discovering something new.

- When you finally place her back down, she takes a step back, then claps her hands together. "Again." The demand is immediate, playful. "I need to know if it was a fluke! We must test this thoroughly." And just like that, you have created a monster. Zatanna will not let this go. From this day forward, any time she catches you off guard, she will jump at you just to see if you’ll catch her. And when you inevitably do? She’ll flash you that signature grin and purr, "Abracadabra, darling."

Dinah Lance (Black Canary)

- Dinah is a woman who stands her ground. She is not used to being swept off her feet—not figuratively, and certainly not literally. So when you do it, when you lift her with effortless ease, her first instinct is not to gasp, nor to flail. No, her first instinct is to fight. Her muscles tense instinctively, her fists clenching as if ready to counter, before her brain catches up and realizes—oh. Oh.

- "No way," she breathes, blinking as her lips part in pure, undiluted shock. "No. Freaking. Way." She actually leans back in your hold, looking at you with something between disbelief and sheer respect. "You’re kidding." Her voice wavers with something suspiciously close to laughter. "You did not just pick me up." But you did, and it is glorious.

- And then—because she is Dinah Lance—she grins. "Damn," she exhales, whistling low. "Okay, okay, I see you." And just like that, her shock melts into admiration, her blue eyes practically glowing with mischief. "Guess I better step up my training, huh? Can’t have my own girlfriend outmuscling me." She claps your shoulder when you set her down, shaking her head with a smirk. "That was impressive."

- But from that day forward? Dinah challenges you. Random push-up contests, lifting competitions, anything to test just how strong you really are. And if you ever lift her again? She just throws her head back and laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck and whispering, "Alright, babe—you win this round."

Wally West (The Flash)

- Wally West is used to moving faster than the eye can see, faster than thought, faster than the speed of sound. He is kinetic energy made flesh, a man who cannot be caught, cannot be contained. He is motion incarnate. So when you lift him off his feet—effortlessly—the sheer absurdity of it freezes him in place. His body, which has always been a blur of momentum, stops. And for the first time in his life, Wally West is utterly, completely still.

- "Whoa—whoa, whoa, whoa!" His voice cracks mid-exclamation, his arms flailing comically before his brain catches up. "What just happened? Did I trip? Did I pass out? Did I break the time stream again?" His hands immediately pat down his own chest, as if confirming that he is still in his body, that this is, in fact, reality. But the reality is this: you are holding him, carrying him without effort, and that? That should be impossible.

- His blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly as he stares at you in stunned disbelief. "You picked me up?" The words are barely above a whisper, his voice laced with an almost childlike awe. "You—just—picked me up?" And then, all at once, his expression shifts. His lips curl into a slow, mischievous grin, and a spark of amusement ignites in his gaze. "Oh, I see how it is," he drawls, looping his arms around your neck as if settling in. "You like sweeping me off my feet, huh?"

- From that moment forward, he turns it into a game. He will actively try to surprise you, using his speed to dodge your attempts—only to deliberately slow down at the last second so you can catch him anyway. And when you do? He laughs, bright and carefree, resting his forehead against yours with a smirk. "You got me again," he murmurs, voice warm with adoration. "Guess I’m falling for you all over again."

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

- Victor Stone is not easy to move, let alone lift. He is composed of reinforced titanium alloys, advanced cybernetics, a living fusion of man and machine. He knows exactly how much he weighs. He knows the sheer impossibility of what you are attempting. So when you do—when you lift him without struggle, without hesitation—his internal scanners glitch.

- "No way," he mutters, his voice layered with static interference as if his systems are struggling to process. His red cybernetic eye flickers slightly, running rapid recalibrations, recalculating physics itself. "Hold up—nah, this ain’t right." His brow furrows, fingers flexing as he subtly shifts his weight in your arms, testing your grip. But you do not falter. You hold him—steady, sure, unyielding. And for the first time in years, Victor Stone feels weightless.

- "I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended," he finally says, his tone a perfect balance of deadpan and deep amusement. "Like, damn, babe—this whole time, I thought I was the strong one." But beneath the teasing, there is something softer. Curiosity. Admiration. And something he does not voice, but you know he feels—trust. He has spent years reinforcing himself, ensuring that no one could ever carry him again, that he would never be helpless. And yet, in your arms, he does not feel lesser. He feels safe.

- When you finally set him down, he exhales a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. "Alright, alright—you got me," he admits, rolling his shoulders. "But next time? You gotta let me return the favor." And sure enough, he does. He waits for the perfect moment—when you least expect it—before scooping you up effortlessly, his deep laughter echoing as he grins down at you. "Yeah, see? Feels kinda nice, don’t it?"

Garfield Logan (Beast Boy)

- The moment you lift Garfield Logan, his brain short-circuits. His limbs flail wildly, his mouth opens in a silent gasp, and his entire body goes stiff as if he has just been yeeted into an alternate dimension. His emerald green eyes go comically wide, and his next breath comes out in a strangled, "WH—?!"

- "Did you just—?" His voice cracks mid-sentence. "Did you just pick me up?!" His hands instinctively grasp at your shoulders, but his fingers don’t clutch—they cling, as if his entire existence depends on holding on for dear life. "Dude. Babe. Love of my life. My entire world. Are you—are you even real? Because this? This should be illegal."

- And then, the realization fully hits him. The shock melts into something else. Something dangerous. His lips twitch, his expression morphing into pure gremlin energy. "Ohhh, this changes everything," he cackles, his voice practically vibrating with mischief. "You know what this means, right?" He leans in, his green skin practically glowing with delight. "You are now legally responsible for carrying me everywhere."

- And true to his word, he commits. The moment you set him down, he refuses to accept it. He will dramatically throw himself into your arms at every opportunity. Walking? Nope. Lifting weights? Absolutely not. Why would he ever do that when he has you? "Babe, please," he whines, arms outstretched, giving you the biggest, saddest puppy eyes imaginable. "I was made for this life. I belong in your arms. Carry me. Carry me like one of your French girls."

Lobo

- Lobo is not used to being moved—by anyone. He is a Czarnian, a being of unmatched strength and durability, a walking tank with enough raw power to go toe-to-toe with Superman. He has never been overpowered, never been handled. So when you do it—when you lift him with ease—his entire soul leaves his body.

- "What the frag?!" The expletive leaves him in a near roar, his crimson eyes blazing with shock. His first instinct is to fight, muscles tensing, but then he realizes—you’re not even struggling. You are holding him like he weighs nothing. The Main Man. The Last Czarnian. In your arms. And it is so baffling, so completely ridiculous, that he just... stares.

- And then—then—he starts laughing. Howling. "Oh, this is priceless," he chokes out between laughs, his voice booming. "You just—pfft—you just picked up Lobo like he’s a damn kitten?!" His laughter is raucous, unrestrained, but there is no resentment. No wounded pride. If anything, he looks at you with a newfound respect. "Alright, babe, I see how it is. You got guts."

- But Lobo is not one to be one-upped. "Next time, though?" He leans in close, his grin sharp and challenging. "I ain’t goin’ down without a fight. You wanna sweep me off my feet? You better earn it." And true to his word, he tests you after that—deliberately throwing his weight at you, seeing if you can keep up. And when you do? When you always catch him, every single time? He lets out a deep, satisfied chuckle, wraps a massive arm around your waist, and murmurs, "Damn. I really hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”

[shroomyv]

ᢉ𐭩GOOD BOY(‘S) [1]

Pairing: mark grayson x sinister mark x Mohawk mark x viltrumite mark x F!reader (god damn)

Synopsis: been awhile since the invincible war ended. A few of them ended up being captured in your world and kept in the prisons. Cecil allows you to visit them and (clearly) has not a damn clue as to what you’re saying or doing with them. Usually, it’d be complete chaos and nothing would change or happen in the room. However, you finally try something new with them…all of them…(should be good to mention here that you have powers…if u didn’t you’d honestly be stupid going into that room with confidence 🧍🏾‍♀️)

Warnings: story will lead to smut, slightly suggestive, harsh words (like bitch, pussy, or slut), not proofread, some corny dialogue (bear with me pls)

W.c: 2,086 (rlly doing my big one)

A/N: (there’s alot I have to say so pls bear with me 😭) first off, thank all of u for all the constant support on my other fics and even my shitty little doodles I posted. Means a lot to me. This is my first series/series writing and it’s also the first fic I’ve made with multiple ppl speaking let alone mark variants. So I’m begging you, please bear with me. If anything is overly fucking terrible or bad feel free to dm me advice. Also I’ll be making a master list soon for all my writings. Or wtv. This is part one to the series and it’ll get super smutty in the next one so I hope u js enjoy this one for now. It’ll be meh…(I highkey think it’s bad but wtv)

Long after the Invincible War, you were still intrigued by all the versions of your boyfriend that had come into your world to reek havoc and chaos. Most were dead, some were in prison, and some were thrown into whatever place they went to. Being a superpowered scientist under Cecil had its perks–you got to not only examine and see these variants, but you also got to speak to them (only with the supervision of your world's Mark of course). Your visits grew more and more frequent to them, it went from once a month, to once a week, to 3 times a week. They had memorized the times you visited, the clack of your heels, and your pen clicking before you entered their cell each time.

Your Mark always complained–sometimes it was genuine concern for your safety and reasoning, other times, it was clear and blatant jealousy. 

“Why do you always want to go see those bastards, they almost destroyed the entire world. Not only that one of them almost crushed you to fucking death! If this gets too bad we're not seeing them again…” he was annoyed–making good and fair points. Sadly, you were too stubborn to attempt to listen to them. 

“You've almost crushed me to death before,” you said with a shrug as you kept walking down the long hall getting ready to get to the cell that held the marks. 

“WHAT!? When was this?” Mark had stopped for a second now having genuine concern as he hadn't remembered ever doing that. He tried his best to make sure you were protected from anything and everything.

“You crushed me plenty of times in bed–it's ok though because I've crushed you back just as much so we're even.” you had one smug ass smirk on your face seeing Mark's annoyed one before you two finally made it to the room. Before you could swipe your keycard to enter the room, Mark grabbed your arm having you stop and listen to what he had to say. “I'm serious babe…let them get out of line and we aren't seeing them again, they'll just rot in here till Cecil finds something to do with them.” 

You used your free hand, swiping the keycard as the door opened. You turned to your mark lifting his chin with your pen as he looked prepared to hear whatever you had to say. 

“I will decide when this research is over. However, you know if you want it to truly end and for me to stay out of this cell, you would only need to tell Cecil you won't accompany me anymore. Until you do that…we're continuing.” 

You were stern and stubborn, meaning every single word you said. You finally pulled the pen down—giving his cheek a soft kiss before walking into the cell.

“Well, we see who wears the pants in your little relationship.” The mark with the mohawk said before he just started laughing trying to bother and mock your mark as best as he could. 

“Hey well at least I get to leave here, I'm not locked in a fucking cell with my arms hanging up!” your mark snarled back–getting closer to Mohawk Mark as they glared each other down.

Sinister Mark cut into the conversation, having a lot worse to say about your mark and his “submission” to you. 

“Hey, does she fuck you too? I just wanna get a full scope on how pussy you are! God, you're pathetic…weak…” 

They were being little assholes ganging up against your mark, all besides the viltrumite one. He was just silent, observing your behaviors. As those 3 bickered,  you walked up to him with crossed arms.

“Nothing to say?” You asked leaning in closer to his face. He backed up as best as he could, struggling to even move a bit because of his restraints but he found small ways. 

“No…bitch…” he said before scrunching up his lips. You just leaned into him closer and closer knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Don’t your people have a thing for respecting higher-ups? Am I not higher up right now?” You were absolutely smug watching as his expression kind of dropped. He knew you were right and he hated every bit about it. 

The cell was silent now…the other marks wondered why he stopped fighting back, falling silent. 

“Don’t tell me you're all pussy now too!?” Mohawk Mark had said in a snarky tone. Your mark was walking up to you to pull you back from him. You raised your hand stopping him from coming closer as you used your other hand, softly rubbing viltrumite Mark'sk'sace. 

He jolted from your touch for a second—not being used to anything like it at all. However, he had been in that cold cell for days, weeks even, with no warmth whatsoever. He melted into your hand as you kept rubbing it softly—he felt odd…like he had never felt before. He released soft huffs the whole time until you finally stepped back. 

“W..wait-“ he exclaimed trying to get your attention again. Before he could even say what he wanted, sinister Mark butted in.

“What the hell did you just do to him!? He’s never been like that ever!” 

Your mark wanted to be filled in as well, waiting for your response.

“I just touched 'em relax.” You were honestly shocked yourself. 

“C'monn…let’s go, your mark said wanting to get the hell out of there. The other marks were getting angry and you were touching another mark…one that wasn’t yours—it made him a bit jealous. 

                                      

“Wait wait…I wanna something…” you said with a grin as you rushed to Mohawk Mark. He looked a bit annoyed but intrigued. You drew closer and closer as the other marks watched once again—it’s all they could do…

“Listen whore, I’m not your mark…so hands off.” He said in a snarky tone. You just kept moving your hands towards his face not giving a damn, you were testing every ounce of patience he had.

“I will fucking bite you! I promise it…” Mohawk Mark tried to move his head back as quickly as he could to get away from your hand. Eventually, it landed right on his forehead before moving upward, softly stroking his hair. He tried to bite you for a second so you used your powers. With a hard glare from your eyes, his body was paralyzed in mere seconds as you rubbed it softly. You released your hold on his body just as fast as you used it.

You kept stroking his head, you saw him moving his head forward as best as he could so you could keep going. Your other hand reached up to his face, squishing it softly before you began to stroke it. He let out a noise of pure satisfaction…a soft moan. As soon as he realized, you backed up satisfied with your work on his behavior. He went from snarling and snapping to melting in your hand.

Your mark grabbed your shoulder, making a notation to get the hell out of there. You just gave him a soft kiss trying to keep him satisfied as you had one more mark to deal with. You knew your mark was getting jealous quickly so you had to hurry it up.

As soon as you walked over to sinister mark in his restraints he spat on your face. The other marks watched waiting to see what happened your mark dashed over to you as he began a screaming match with sinister mark. 

Ignoring them and all their noise, you just spat right back on his face as the room fell silent. You were even now—the only difference was you could wipe the spit off of your face but he couldn’t get it off of his. Your hand reached up to his face as he prepared to bite you but you flicked his nose before continuing. You rubbed his hair—making it messy in mere seconds before you looked him dead in the eyes, smiling warmly.

“I promise you, if you ever spit on my face again I will break your face in.”

Your mark was just frozen in the spot waiting for this interaction to finish. Sinister Mark's eyes widened a bit before going back to normal—he was surprised at how you could look so gentle while threatening him. 

“Yes bitch…” he said in a snarky tone trying to get some power back in the situation. You smiled before pinching and twisting at his nose. He couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.

“Huh? What’d you say?” You waited for him to change his manner of speaking. Your mark reached to pull your arm down as you 2 shared a look. He was trying to figure out what you were even doing but you gave him a glance that said you could handle it.

“Yes…ma’am” sinister Mark said in an annoyed tone this was basically his version of surrendering defeat. Your hand went to his face stroking it just like you did to the others. At first he acted like he didn’t give a single fuck about you or your touch—seconds later he was melted into your cheek moving his own face to have it happen faster. You stroked his face slower and began scratching his hair as Mohawk Mark began complaining how that wasn’t fair. Sinister mark was losing himself—lifting his chin to have that touch and rubbed to. He bit his lip trying to keep in any sounds he would’ve made but eventually one slipped out.

“F…fuck…” he moaned out roughly before you moved your hand away from him

“Good boy.” You said back with bliss in your voice. You honestly felt aroused by the fact you had 4 Marks folding for you just at the simple touch of your hand and sternness in your voice.

“God…what did she do to us…” Viltrumite Mark said sounding embarrassed or even frustrated that that even happened. The other Marks (sinister and Mohawk) just told him to “fuck off” as they kept their heads down in a bit of shame. They were absolutely in shock at how they folded that fast but knew they wanted more. They were pissed that they clearly weren’t getting more.

You had them fold enough for the day. Plus, your Mark looked like he wanted to snap sinister Mark's neck for spitting on you. He was tired of being in that damn room for the day. Your mark grabbed you by the waist giving you a look that said “You needed to leave” You just nodded and let him lead you out of the cell. You and your mark left the cell making your way out of the building. Mark was flying you 2 home as he wanted to talk about what the hell happened. 

“So…what was that..” he asked in a genuine and jealous tone. He wanted to know what was up with all of it. Why did you guys keep going back, why were you touching them, how did you make them fold that easily? He wanted answers…

“Honestly…I don’t know. I didn't even think it’d work on the viltrumite one but as soon as it did I just had to try it on the rest of them and it worked. Guess you’re just weak for me in every universe?” You gave the best answer you could to your mark waiting for his response.

“Not gonna lie…I was a bit jealous. They practically killed everyone and now they wanted to fold just cause you touched them!” Mark exclaimed before you kissed his face softly. He had calmed down quickly just from your lips. 

“Relax... you're the one who gets to take me home. You win either way. However...I do need you to take me back there tomorrow. It’s something I wanna do with you there. All of you…” you had something a little sinister and against the rules on your mind.

“Again!? What is it…I’m so sick of that place…” your mark wanted to know what you’d do if you went back. He was tired of going there and honestly was ready to never go back again. However, he was trying his best to trust your judgment and see where it’d go. 

“Don’t worry about it…just know that you’ll have fun. All of you, trust me. You said with a smile before Mark finally landed, bringing you two to your house. You had plans…foul plans…and you couldn’t wait to put them into action tomorrow. 

[thewitchblue]

You frowned as you rolled two live grenades under Joker's feet. You managed to sneak up on the bastard after finally locating him. He's as hard to catch as a flailing fish using your bare hands. Fortunately, Joker noticed too late.

You watched with a grimace as the two grenades exploded Joker into chunks of body parts before anybody could say anything or run away.

You wanted to kill Joker for Jason's death. Someone had to avenge the kid, and the psychopath should've died a long time ago. You don't think Jason would have wanted that, not the Jason you knew, anyway, but you felt like you had to do it. Robin and Batman were on the opposite side of Gotham on a wild goose chase through the city looking for the rogues that escaped Arkham tonight, and Nightwing was stuck in Bludhaven because one of his rogues escaped. It was the perfect time to kill him.

You kicked Joker's decapitated head with sorrow. You thought you'd feel better, but all you felt was hollow. You shook your head with a sigh. You have to move to the next rogue, but you look at the Joker smile and blinked back tears as you thought about Jason. He was your best friend. You should know that your sorrow wouldn't be erased when you killed Joker, but it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest all over again.

You couldn't stop your sobs. Jason wouldn't want this. Little Jason valued life and believed people could change for the better.

Your heart was shattered, and your body was shaking with grief. You looked at the grenade pins in your hands with tear-blurred eyes. This hurts. It kills you that you had to go so low to get closure. You never got to see Jason's body. They said he was too badly harmed, and it was a closed casket funeral.

You were a grenadier hero, but you normally use non-lethal grenades (think bombs that release various gases and smoke bombs). You had to make those two grenades specifically to kill Joker. They are the only lethal grenades you've ever made.

Grief hit you hard, and you weren't sure if you were sorry about your actions. You kneeled on the ground and fiddled with a grenade you have hooked on your utility belt. You didn't expect your revenge to hurt so much.

You don't know how long you were crying on the floor, but you eventually put on your helmet and moved on. The best part about having a helmet is that nobody can see your tears as you handled Clayface. Robin was taking on Harley, and Batman was focusing on Ivy. The two rogues tag teamed tonight.

You left the corpse quickly. There's no time for you to grieve when there are so many lives at risk. You'll have to cry more later.

You hunted down Glayface first. He might be the riskiest for the new Robin, so you need to take him out first. You eyed your target carefully. He was pretending to be a panicked civilian when he felt a pair of predatory eyes on him. One of the heroes was onto him, but it was too late as you used a glitter bomb to mark him. He can't blend his way out of this now. He'll be forced to fight.

You dropped silently from the rooftop while another grenade explodes. You had a special gas to turn him human again and neutralise his powers.

"There's nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, Clayface."

Your voice modifier turned your voice dark and intimidating. He can't see you in your shadows, and your voice echoed on the walls of the alley. He can't tell what direction the bombs are coming from.

You were his most hated opponents. You actually were hated by all the rogues, but Clayface had the misfortune of you showing up instead of Batman and Robin.

You were impossible to see and even more impossible to track. It was as if you cornered him in an alley that helped your evasion. He couldn't go anywhere with your predatory eyes tracking his every move.

He didn't notice he was surrounded by bombs until it was too late. He hissed in pain as shards of metal hit him from all sides. You somehow always pick the right bombs to disarm him, but he's not going down without a fight.

Your heart wasn't in the fight he was trying so hard in. Not really, anyway. You were focused on taking out Clayface as quickly as possible to move onto the missing rogues.

Clayface panicked as he looked around. Nothing. You were a ghost. He's not sure he's even fighting a physical being. He managed the kick the next bomb thrown at him. Unfortunately for him, it was a contact grenade and exploded on his foot.

He howled in pain and surrendered very quickly. He couldn't run with his foot the way it was. He couldn't hide, and he couldn't fight a ghost. You were a good fighter, but you shined on taking away hope when you fought a villain. What can they do? They can't see the bombs until it's too late. They can't see you. They can't even hear you. The winds don't whisper despite your cloak, and the moon doesn't illuminate your shadow.

"Boo."

You whispered in his ear as you tied him up. His face whipped around, but you were gone, and he was tied up with no means of escape. His powers were gone, and he was covered in glitter. He didn't know whether to thank you for the mercy or curse you.

You had already moved on by the time the police showed up to take Clayface away. You run across Two-Face first, but you found him already in the midst of being tied up by a man with a red helmet. You blinked in surprise.

The man was massive, 6'3 with muscles the size of your thighs, but his suit could use some work. He wore a simple leather jacket, cargo pants, and a black shirt. He was strapped with guns much like you were strapped with grenades, and you could bet that there were more hidden like yours.

Your voice echoed in the empty warehouse as you said,

"Did I show up late to the party?"

You leaned against a nearby wall. You didn't reveal yourself, but you could see the man tense. You quickly noticed his crowbar and frowned. You shrugged off the bleeding crowbar desite noticing the extent of the injuries.

"Something like that..."

He also had a voice modifier, but you could tell his voice is naturally deep, and his tone was dark, as if he, too, didn't like the events that transpired.

You eyed him warily. You could tell he was looking for you, but you weren't anywhere. Are you going to have to fight him? His hand gripped his gun as if it were his lifeline.

"Did you come out to play?"

He asked the air. He tried to sound cocky, but he sounded more nervous than anything. He knew you were dangerous, even to the Bat family. You work alone and often aid by chance more than by choice. They don't know who or what you are exactly, and it concerned them all.

"Yes, but it seems my date was busy."

You replied smoothly with a sharp smile. That seemed to affect him even more because his grip tightened somehow. He was blushing under his helmet. He had always liked you. You gave him a thrill like nobody else and seemed to be clarifying his head. The rage he has settled into a cold and collected calm.

"Why don't you come out of the shadows and dance with me then?"

You smirked. Oh, you liked him already. Two-Face was starting to get annoyed now. He started struggling against his ties until Red Hood put a gun against his head.

"That's a negative, hoodlum. I have rogues to catch."

You had no idea that was your previous best friend, and Jason had no clue it was his previous crush. He waited to see if he could hear you with his slightly improved hearing, but nothing. You smiled a real smile for the first time in months as you walked out.

You spent the night going through Batman's mess and assisting civilians when you could from gangs or robbers. The good news was that everybody was taken care of that night with the help of Batman, Robin, and now this Red Hood guy.

Red Hood found the remains of the Joker and the grenade shards before Batman could, and he disposed of the body parts with a smile. You must know Jason then. Otherwise, you never would have used lethal bombs. That's a start to unmask you. Maybe he'll thank you personally. He's sure he'll see you on the streets again. Your flirting solidified that you will come back to him for more, and he can't wait.

[sweetdispatch]

May I get 6 cinnamon tiramisus with caramel drizzle! Thank you <3

Dynamics - L. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: Luke got jealous when he spotted you talking with Jack, you wanted to punish him for that but the dynamic changed in the bedroom warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), choking taglist: @bunbunbl0gs @hwalllllllelujah

University time for most people was a time to party as much as you can before going into adult life. The same was for Luke until he met you. For him, you were a priority and not parties or having the most girls in the bed. He only wanted you, that's why he was following you around like a lost puppy. He desperately needed you as his girlfriend. 

You share the same feelings for him. When Luke came to you for the first time, your world stopped. You could have sworn that you never saw a more handsome man than him. That’s why his attention was everything for you. He didn’t even have to try to get to know you, you were more than willing to do it.

Weeks went and you two started dating. Everyone thought that it’s just a phase because it’s university. Nothing lasts here forever but you two lasted. You were going strong and after a year, you were talking about your future together. You weren’t even 20 but you knew that you were made for each other. 

When Luke went to New Jersey, you followed him. It was obvious for you to go after your man. You were renting an apartment together and everything was like a fairytale. You two were working and later coming back to each other's arms. Luke was well known from ditching his teammates to go back to you. Everyone was joking that he’s whipped. 

This was true. It might look for a public eye that Luke is the dominant one in your relationship but behind closed doors you were in power. Just like in university, Luke was following you everywhere and doing everything for you. Nothing was forced, it was the dynamic you two shared. 

Luke invited you to a team gathering so you could meet his team. You spent a great time together but since he was playing with his brother, you were talking with him way more than with Luke. You wanted to catch up with Jack because despite living in the same city, you barely saw each other. 

You didn’t know that this would make Luke feel jealous. It was his brother but Luke was puffy that you’re giving Jack more attention than him. He knew that at the end of the night you were coming back with him but he couldn’t help it. He needed you by his side. You were his safe place. 

You were standing with Jack and laughing when you felt a hand on your hip. Without even looking, you knew it was Luke. He was touchy with you and you were annoyed that he’s acting this way. You excused Jack for a moment and grabbed Luke’ hand. When you were in a quiet place you looked at him.

“Behave or I’ll teach you this” You gave him a look that left no room for argument but Luke pushed his luck.

“I dare you” Luke said calmly and you just smiled. You told him to take you home and he happily agreed. 

After twenty minutes, you arrived at your place and you pulled Luke into a kiss. He melted under your touch but you broke the kiss and looked at him. 

“Wait for me in the bedroom, undressed” You kissed his cheek and Luke followed your order. 

You poured yourself a glass of water and drank it, thinking about what to do with Luke. It wasn’t new for you to dominate him in bed but always make you unsure of your next move. You knew Luke enjoyed it when you were giving him orders and using him but tonight you didn’t have a plan. 

You went to the bedroom and saw him sitting on the bed with his back leaning against the headrest. You traced his leg with your nail before you sat on his thighs. You placed a hand on his cheek and caressed under his eye with your thumb. The other hand was resting against his chest. 

“You were a bad boy tonight. All touchy for no reason. What happened to this boy that hates PDA?” You asked him and placed a kiss on his chest. 

“I wanted to have you close” Luke closed his eyes at the feeling of your lips on his chest. 

“Oh you’ll have me close tonight but not like you would like it. Since your hand was wandering around my body, you won’t touch me. If I feel your hand on me, I’ll stop. Got it?” You looked at him and saw him gulp. Luke loved to have his hand on you and it was like a torture for him to keep them away. 

You stood up from his thighs and undressed yourself in front of him. You could see how desperate Luke is to touch your boobs, your hips, your ass, any part of you. You laughed at his desperation, thinking really curious how long he will last while keeping his hands to himself. 

You grabbed his dick and sat down on him. Luke growled at the feeling of your tight pussy around him. Your moves were slow, you wanted to take your time with him but he had a different plan. He placed his hands on your hip and manhandled you. Now, he was on top of you with your legs resting on his hips. 

“Love, I know what you wanted to do but I really need to fuck you” Luke lent to kiss you and started thrusting into you. 

Luke was rough. He really needed to release his stamina and seeing you undressing in front of him was his final straw. As much as he enjoyed seeing you in power, he needed to have his way with you. He was aware that tomorrow you’ll punish him but tonight it was all about fucking you without mercy. 

You didn’t expect him to do this but you loved it. Luke’ hand was resting on your leg while he was pushing his whole length into you with each thrust getting further. You were moaning under him because it felt so good. No matter how many times you two had sex, it was always a mind blowing experience for you. 

Luke’ hand went on your neck and he squeezed it around your throat. Still, he was thrusting into you. He loved seeing you so powerless and all at his mercy. Your first orgasm came unexpectedly. You didn’t know when but Luke didn’t stop. He was more turned on that you were so easily pleased. 

When Luke released your neck from his hand, he placed it on your pussy and with circulating moves, he was helping you to reach your second orgasm. You could swear that you see stars with each thrust. You cum again and quickly after Luke followed you and released into you. He laid on the bed next to you with his hand still on your pussy. 

“You did so good for me” Luke kissed your lips, still playing with your clit. You moaned into his mouth. “But we’re not done here” He whispered into your ear. “Don’t worry, tomorrow you can overpower me however you want but tonight, I’m in charge” He kissed you cheek and slipped a finger into you. You knew you’re gonna be sore tomorrow but you didn’t care about it.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Seeing the groovy art + alternative outfit for Overblot Malleus is so awesome. If this is the same for the other overblot boys to have their alternative outfits being their chapter 7 outfits, then that must be why they didn't have their SSR cards not just their overblot boys cards and the other non-overblots having their own ssrs, their outfits could be part of their alternative outfits.

Riddle - Rebel outfit

Leona - King outfit

Azul - Octopus Merfolk

Jamil - Vizier-like attire

Vil - Moviestar attire

Idia- Styx + large coat

Yup, the new SSR Ruler of the Abyss Malleus card features the Overblot form for the standard look + illustration, but the groovy + alternate outfit you can toggle on features Malleus's prince look from book 7. I knew there had to be a reason why Malleus got an unexplained wardrobe change for the end of book 7 party... This is why. A shame that they come with furniture instead of vignettes, but that's been the pattern for story limited SSRs anyway so I'll deal with it. I assume the other OB cards to come will be similar with the toggles and initial art + groovy artworks. aubdodvda I can't believe I predicted this... Hey, Anon that was asking about the potential for rebel!Riddle... I think you'll get him! It's also interesting that Vil will probably be in his movie star attire from his dream, since he actually does drop dialogue saying he'd like to wear something like it "irl". Don't worry, Vil www You'll get your time to shine soon.

... Meaning... if I want king!L*ona... 💀 I gotta roll for his OB card... FUCK ME, I GUESS OTL

Praying for Jamil to have the most unhinged power-drunk expression possible in his groovy... 🙏

Kinda sad to think that Azul's octoform might be locked behind his limited time OB SSR thought �� (I mean, same case for the twins' eel forms being locked behind their Mermaid Fin SSRs, but still.) This is technically also how we'll get Idia's S.T.Y.X. outfit, albeit combined with the neurojacket. Wonder if we'll be able to toggle the jacket on and off...?

I did think Malleus looked a little “off” somehow when I first saw the groovy 🤔 but you’ve basically already said everything I would have brought up so I won’t say anything more. I’m guessing it was framed this way because the artists were being ambitious and wanted to show off both the regality of his attire (thus the billowing sleeves) and his “monster” attributes (hence the tail being up high). Xbjsvskwkw It’s a little weird; it makes me think of him turning so fast and with such force that it lifts his robes and his heavy-looking tail high up into the air?? But if that’s the case, then we wouldn’t be seeing him so clearly, he’d be a blur. Suspension of disbelief, I guess???

I find that Twst is kind of inconsistent with shots from the back… The Starsending Deuce groovy also seems a little “off” to me, but the Fairy Gala Couture Silver and Masquerade Dress Sebek groovies are juuuust right for me 👌

[hgb94]

“The Dwendalian Empire kind of sucks, you guys.” I really enjoyed the three responses from the empire kids to Jester’s perspective on their home. 

Nott is the most positive but her response seems largely based in optimism and a lack of experience with the empire as a whole. “There must be some nice places here, right?” Like the village they just came from, like Felderwin. It makes perfect sense. Apart from the unfortunate goblin attack, Felderwin seems like a fairly idyllic small town, and while Veth’s childhood certainly wasn’t ideal, it was due to childhood bullies, not government oppression. With little exposure to the rest of the empire, what reason would she have for thinking poorly of it? When she does begin traveling as Nott, any negative treatment she experiences can easily be rationalized and justified by her as an appropriate response to a goblin, and until joining up with the rest of the Nein, she and Caleb spent the majority if their time together in the woods or on the fringes of society, focused more on survival than the problems of an empire. 

While Beau comes from a fairly privileged background of wealth and comfort, she is the most openly negative about the empire, fully in line with her distrust of authority and power. She’s also a bit more worldly than Nott, having traveled for a bit after leaving Zadash, and being more free to move through society as a human. She cynically points out that the further north they travel, the harsher restrictions will become, and while there might be nice things in the north, it’s because that’s where all the money is. But she also doesn’t seem deeply invested in its flaws. She’s only recently been encouraged by Dairon to seek out corruption in systems of power, and at this stage the concept of trying to change her country on such a fundamental level must seem insane. The empire is “kind of lame,” but hey, it is what it is.

Caleb stays quiet at first but his focus immediately shifts away from his book and toward the conversation. When Nott says there must be nice places in the empire, he very quietly replies “Not really.” It was so quiet, I had to replay the scene several times to be sure. Outside of that, he remains very factual, almost neutral in his own statements. “The further out you are, the easier it is to bend the rules.” “They have the best of the best in the north.” He quietly agrees with Beau when she points out that restrictions will increase further north, but other than that he observes the conversation more than he participates in it. Interestingly he only really speaks up after Beau voices critique of the empire, probably filing away her position as a positive point in her favor when he considers the pros and cons of opening up to her about his past later. I wonder how he would have responded if anyone in the group held a stronger pro-empire stance. 

[amethystheartsx]

SCATTERED ACROSS THE STARS

Sylus Angst

After years of yearning, eons of loyalty what does a man do when all he gets is pieces, uneven and unfair.

Warnings: angst, slight mentions of chaos murder, drug addiction, and suicide (all mild)

AN: I often think all LIs and MC deserve better. A happiness of their own, not the kind tainted with curses and what not. If you don't like it don't read (°∀°)

Contains reference of another fic I wrote of zayne. I'll add link in case you wanna read.

Sylus was pissed.

No, that's not the right word, it portrays nothing but mere annoyance and anger. Sylus was beyond that.

Sylus was hurt.

No, that's not the right word as well, he wished he was just hurt. He wished it was only pain he felt every time he saw her with them.

Sylus was broken.

Tsk, incorrect yet again. How can one be broken when they were never whole to begin with.

For someone known to have everything worldly in the palm of his hand, Sylus lacked the most essential of his being. His soul, torn and used to bring life into another, one supposed to be his one true companion. His beloved. But Alas! 

Universe played a dirty trick.

For a dragon who owned the treasures of many fallen kings, the one who Never shared any of his possessions, even the one he did not care for, was forced to share the most precious one.

How ironic.

He thought his love was the purest, a beautiful yet tragic legend woven into the ancient ruins only for it to soar once again when they reunited.

He thought none like him existed, one who dared to love so fervently. A valiant display of ardent affection despite the curse that eventually killed him.

Sylus prided himself in his ability to love after the cosmos banned together to refrain it from happening, he prided himself to make a place for himself just so he could, for once, live out his fairy tale with her.

He deserved it right? After everything they went through. He still stands tall after that ever-longing suffering; her warm embrace should be his reward, right?!?.

Wrong.

Ah yes, wrong. Sylus felt wronged.

For the one whom he loved the most, was not his, at least not entirely.

Not the way he belonged to her. No. He longed for her, kept all of his love, his softness, his laughter reserved for her, made it so sacred so that when he laid it bare in front of her it would be nothing the eldest star in the ever-growing galaxy had ever witnessed before.

That's until he learned of them, their desires, their history.

A messenger who betrayed his god.

A god who led down his people.

A royal who left his own planet in ruins.

A fallen soldier who didn't let even death restrain him.

Each of them bared down their lives, people, treasures, and sanity. Over and over again. From gardens of jasmines to bonds of eternal. From past to future and across multiple timelines in between, tangled web, whispered myths and many fostered anecdotes.

Each of their feats rivaled the other, a grandeur display of Romance, that seeps through the galaxies and into her heart.

Wherever it beats, it finds her. They all find her, Love her, and then inevitably lose her.

Yes. The eternal cosmic affairs that have rattled the divine always end in the same way.

Heartbreak.

Tragic.

Unfulfilled.

Tsk. What a waste.

—--

Knowledge is power only some can bear, and Sylus would know. He had spied on them, all of them. Learned about them trying to find the flaws he could use to pry her away from their grasp. All for it to turn into failures.

Not just because they were clean slate, no like him they had their own fallouts.

But because of how happy she looked with them, so happy, just as she did with him. Not more, not less.

Just as much.

How unfair.

For he wanted her all for himself, blame his dragon roots but sylus don't share, how could he do it with the one who owns half his soul.

Is it so wrong he wants it all to himself? To get back the loyalty he had shown for eons?

He wasn't asking for much was he?

Everyday he will see her with one of them.

Under the starlight, along the oceans, in cozziness of duvets or the serenity of the night sky.

And she would dazzle for them just like she dazzles for him.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Nothing special.

__

His beloved was scattered across the stars, and he too only got the crumbs. The spared affections she had to offer, and sylus had enough.

He deserved to have something sacred. Something all for him. Just him.

And as the time went on he noticed…

So did she.

She deserved to have love that doesn't demand her being, her life, her blood, her heart.

She deserved to love as easy as breathing, not one suffocated with unseen linkages that burned with cosmic mischief.

She deserved to love and be loved with free will. Not because she was designed to, programmed to, and especially not with those picked by forces beyond her kin.

And so sylus decided to let her go, it wasnt easy, nor was it gentle but it did happen.

He pulled apart the string of fate, to let her free. It wasn't clean, certainly not smooth at edges but now she could breath. 

Soulmates can be platonic, romance isn't mandatory and besides, Kittens thrive better untethered, untamed.

—

After the “breakup”, if you can even call it that, a word far too trivial to define the undoing bond burned within the constellation, Sylus threw himself into work. Even more than before, going as far as taking Down the cheap underling, spreading chaos on the streets of the N-109 zone.

He was a ruthless killer before now he was a reckless one as well. His strategic movements and calculated attacks roughed up with insatiable need to wreak havoc.

He barely used his henchmen; why should he when he could do it better than them and also get the thrill of it?

Getting his own hands dirty in the hopes of removing the traces she left behind. He had learned the art of letting go, didnt mean he doesn’t get to process his grievance on his own accord, no matter how bloody it is.

Turns out he wasn't the first one to do so, it was the doctor. He, too, had to de-tangle himself from bushes full of thorns that had given him scars to last a lifetime, to plant a whole new garden with another flower just as fragrant, just as pretty. Even though it was small, it was still beautiful because it was entirely in bloom, not just the scraps he had to lose so much for.

Though Sylus was not looking for one, too tired by the charade to bother himself with it. He lived this long he would live out the rest of it as well.

Or so he thought.

---

During a hunt for a specific rat that had infiltrated the base, Sylus was not pleased when his carefully laid out trap was outsmarted by the traitor, fleeing the spot after tricking someone else into it.

“Looks like the rat trap ended up catching a little mouse” he spoke up approaching the bird cage that held just a sweet little thing, at least compared to him. 

He is displeased red eyes were now on,

You.

your pretty big eyes on him as well as crimson shades dust your cheek. “I- I am not supposed to be here…” you spoke, rightfully scared as the man in front of you approached the bird cage, his veiny hand reaching out to hold a bar, still studying, still weary.

“Obviously” he says in a bored tone “you do not fit the description. It was supposed to be a large burly man and not a, well…a fragile little thing too easy to break” he says.

You couldn't help but giggle and that caught him off guard. “Sorry, it's just- your voice is just as deep as I imagined,” you say, making the man in front of you give you a questioning glare. “Excuse me?” he asked. Of course, she wasn't the first to say something like that to him. Many had tried to tempt the man who runs the city to no real outcome.

“You are sylus right? I- am a huge fan!” You say looking up from your place nearing the bars of the cage.

Many had claimed to be his nemesis, his rivals, even admirers, but a fan? That was a first. “A fan? A fan of what?” he asked, his low voice not portraying the hint of curiosity he felt.

“You know, like your achievements and stuff” you reply simply, matter-of-factly.

There was a beat of silence.

“You mean my criminal record?”

“A mighty impressive one”.

His devilishly handsome face contorts into a slightly puzzled expression as he refuses to look away at the shorter person in front of him who continued to look at him….like that.

Sylus was aware how blessed he was aesthetically but he couldn't help but be drawn to her eyes and how she looked at him. They brimmed with admiration, respect and slight fear that didn't aim towards him. Now it isn't that no one ever looked at him like that before, no. What made it different was how pure it was, how easy it came to her when it really shouldn't. Her desires were sated and she didn't require anything of him. Not his favor, not his hate. She was so contant in the moment just being present here, with him.

Sylus had to step back and look away. An unfamiliar weight unfolded in his chest

“Enough with this charade whatever this is” he says “how did you end up here? Because with what you have said so far I believe you are some kind of stalker? Is that what it is?” He speaks with accusations directed towards you.

“Oh no! No” you to quickly step back, panic drips your demeanor “There is a misunderstanding, I have been played to be accurate”.

“Oh? Why tell me more about it little mouse” he says crossing his arm, his tone was sarcastic yet sincere. “I am all ears”.

With a deep breath you begin “that big and burly man you mentioned vaguely, were you talking about daryl? Also known as the bishop?” When he nods cautiously you continue “right! So what happened was, I owed Daryl a favor and he cashed it in and told me to make this delivery for him and well I had no clue that delivery will bring me here” you breath out seemingly calm but that slight shakiness in your voice didn't miss him. “I assume he somehow knew it was a trap then set me up as an escape goat” 

Once you were finished sylus ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. It doesn't happen often that one of his strategically laid out traps doesn't work or catch someone innocent, but even in this moment after his failed attempt his mind was more interested in you “And why would a small thing like you owe a man like bishop a favor” his eyes narrows down at you with suspicion laced with intrigue. Just who are you? First, you claim to be a fan and then turn out to have some sort of connection with a rat that Infiltrated his base.

The question made you chuckle “ah so funny story” you begin, now having sylus’s full attention because how would it be funny to know a man like The Bishop.

“So my dad killed his dad, and then like kind of adopted him because of guilt since his mom was a druggie, she ended her life subscription after like 4 to 5 years or so anyway” You wave it off like it was no big deal and the red-eyed man could only just listen to you stunned. “So yeah Daryl kind of came and went never really stayed, got in the wrong g crowd and found out the truth so he obviously tried to kill us all but thankfully couldn't” you rambled, sylus felt they were losing the plot “If he tried to kill you all why would you owe him….anything?” He tried hiding how absurd he found it, but she could see it as “that's the funny part of having a dysfunctional family.” she leaned on the bars of the cage. “Can't live with them, can't live without them. After nearly burning down our house and running away for good, or so I thought, he returned again remorseful because, well, my dad did take him in, and we were nice enough to him.” She shrugs. Sylus shifted on his feet, impatient “Still doesn't explain why-”

“I am getting there jeez” you giggle, “though we did not really forgive him and cut off our ties I had to reach out to him because” you take another deep breath and sylus holds his.

“I needed the money, we were in ruins, and all kinds of bills were stacking up my books, not making enough. It- it was rough,” You chuckle, but there is no humor in it; the sparkles in your eyes dim down, replaced by the pain of the past that still seems to haunt you. “It was a good chunk I borrowed and was paying him back bit by bit after I started doing well till out of the blue he called in and asked a favor in exchange for forgiving the rest of the loan and- well, rest is history” she stands straighter arms crossed “that answered all your questions?”

Sylus stares you up and down. He knows, of course, that you are not lying or deceiving him, that your heart is pure even after all you've been through, and it is only what you tell him; he wonders what else you hide behind that flowery smile.

“even if you are saying the truth you have seen too much now, and given your…complicated relationship with the bishop I suppose letting you go so freely won't be an option,” he says, his voice dropping low to that cold tone that can make anyone succumb to their knees, the one you had in your eyes right now. That's the look Sylus was used to, not that mellow one you have been giving him.

“No! No wait, don't kill me” you grabbed onto the bar's desperate pleas falling from your lips making him smirk “I-I can be useful I can help you find him! everything I know I'll tell you. Please” the last word falling much softly.

“mhm is that so then maybe you can be spared” sylus says knowing damn well he was never planning on killing her in the first place.

“Well then” he smirks “I am expecting your full corporation little miss”.

AN: This was supposed to be long lol, but I figured I'd make it a whole part 2 later. It is almost written but I have so many ideas I need to arrange it all first

Anywho, let me know if I should write it or not.

Also here is the link.

[actualbird]

who do you think makes the most money amongst the NXX men. we have luke with three sources of income (NSB, antique shop & private detective gig), marius whose a literal CEO of the biggest corporation, vyn who has his own research centre + is a psychiatrist + nobility (not sure if that counts tbh given his complicated relationship with his haspran lineage) and artem whose a lawyer. i feel like marius makes the most, and then it’s kinda debatable between vyn and luke, but artem’s for sure last, and that’s wild because he makes BANK. he’s only in fourth place because someone has to be there 🧍‍♀️

anon, i need you to know this simple question sent me into a spiral. it had me googling things like "How much does James Bond make annually???? (adjusted to present day inflation)" and wondering things like "hold on, what currency do we use for this, because Stellis uses their currency of Stellins and the income will definitely depend as well on the strength Stellin as a currency and the cost of living within Stellis, but oh god we don't really have any good information on how much Stellin is in comparison to IRL currencies, but fuck, i do need to pick a currency to base this off of or else we're not getting ANYWHERE [PULLS AT MY FUCKING HAIR]---"

okay. all that said, this question sent me through so many tabs of googling, but after all that research and my own headcanons and views, here is my answer.

1ST PLACE = marius von hagen

obviously. he's the CEO of one of the most powerful and influential corporations in the country of Stellis. he makes like a gazillion bajillion fuckoff-illion Stellin annually, we dont even have to find a number for him because he's definitely at the top.

did you know canonically, marius never checks the price tag of any of the things he buys? yeah. i think that says enough

2ND PLACE = vyn richter

im not going to do any numbers or math for vyn either because i agree with you that vyn is at second place. vyn technically has the following sources of income

psychologist/psychiatrist

owner/co-founder of Giannovyn Mental Health Research Center

visiting professor at the School of Psychology of Stellis University

being Royalty (but this is...complicated)

being a visiting professor is basically negligible, income-wise. i come from a family of teachers so i know teachers, even at a university level, are paid horrendously. but his practice as a psychiatrist and the income he gets as the owner and co-founder of his research center must be Big Bucks

as for the being Royalty part.....i dont think thats Income, per se, but vyn definitely doesnt need to WORRY about money tbh. worst comes to worst, shitbag dad eirik haspran will throw svartish currency at vyn's face, which vyn will ABSOLUTELY HATE, but that doesnt get rid of the fact that it Is money that he's got access to.

in terms of attitudes and behaviors in regards to spending, his placement of 2nd place seems to align here: vyn lives with many fancy luxuries!! nowhere near as extravagant and out-of-this-world as marius, but it's There: the clear see-through grand piano in his pre-moving-in-together bedroom, the upper class hobbies and interests like wine tasting and horse riding, that kind of stuff. so i think he fits here in 2nd place.

INTERMISSION = i need to take you through my process, methodology, and struggle here (so you understand what i WENT THROUGH)

okay now it was artem and luke that tripped me up the most for this response. my gut instinct when you said artem was last place just made me go "that can't be right...."

i originally tried to solve this conundrum by doing actual math and conversion. my process was:

search the job's annual salary in China (because Stellis is based on Chinese cities in general. this would mean we would be working under Chinese living costs and the Chinese Yuan)

convert those values into Philippine Peso simply so that i can comprehend the numbers

compare who's higher!!

but then that made me realize a big issue with this process.....artem's job is easy, he's a Senior Attorney. but luke....what the FUCK is his actual job title for the NSB??????

in Main Story 05-01, he describes himself as part of the "Financial and Technological Crime Section" of the NSB, and he joins the NXX Investigation Team as a "special investigator" but like....WHATS HIS TITLE. WHATS HIS POSITION. WHATS HIS JOB DESCRIPTION AND WHAT ARE HIS RESPONSIBILITIES???

on NSB missions or during his NSB era, luke has been seen doing undercover work, hacking (idk a more formal term for this), combat training for new recruits, AND THE LIST GOES ON. essentially, searching for his "job" in the first place tripped me up

hence why i landed at this reddit page

it seemed like a lost fucking cause to use actual IRL sources for luke's job so i went into the realm of fictional secret agents, james bond being the most known and, well, luke pearce is basically james bond at this point, what with everything he's had to do already.

HOWEVER, i won't be using the exact numbers that the above reddit thread came up with, because those numbers are based on the living costs and culture of Europe. that fucked up all the numbers ONCE MORE

SO WHAT I INSTEAD DECIDED TO DO WAS extrapolate the answer based on Vibes and Living Conditions

"zak why did you tell us all of this if you were gonna disregard it anyway" because you all need to know how much i wENT THROUGH, FOR THIS ASK SKJFBDLSKFJSD.

3RD PLACE = artem wing

he may have a normal job but consider the fact that he bought a penthouse apartment straight out of college.

additionally, after consulting an Artem Knower, she mentioned and reminded me of the fact that Pax is Themis' client. so artem is getting them BIG PAX BUCKS.

his living conditions are sleek, elegant, and luxurious. not at the same level as vyn and marius, but it is very swanky. in his pre-moving-in-together apartment, he literally had his own private cinema room. his kitchen had two ovens. these are signs that he makes BANK.

4th PLACE = luke pearce

"but zak!! luke literally has THREE SOURCES OF INCOME!! AND ONE OF THOSE IS BEING A GOVERNMENT AGENT!!!" to that i say:

the income from Time's Antiquities is honestly negligible because 1) its main purpose, canonically, isn't actually to be an establishment but instead a front for his PI business. yes, he does do restorations and make sales, but that's not his priority. and 2) HE DOES SO MUCH SHIT FOR FREE. LUKE, THIS IS NO WAY TO RUN A BUSINESS!!! KBSLFBLDS

the income from his Pearce Private Investigations is also somewhat negligible because, again, HE ALSO DOES CASES FOR FREEEEEE or at the very least is very flexible about payment

as for being a government agent........the government does Not Pay Its Employees Well

"but unlike artem, who has an apartment, luke has an entire 3-floor building to himself!!" yes he does! but he did not buy that. it was canonically left to him by his deceased parents

with those matters out of the way, i wanna say that luke making the least among the boys (WHICH DOESNT MEAN HE MAKES LITTLE. he definitely still makes Money, just not as much as the other three) makes sense given his Vibes and Living Conditions

in terms of vibes, luke is a very simple boy. he tends for "low-brow" hobbies and indulgences and food. in terms of living conditions, his pre-moving-in-together living space, which was just one floor of his 3-floor building, was very simple as well, even cramped. his bed was on a palette on the FLOOR. LUKE, FOR GOD'S SAKE, SURELY YOU MAKE ENOUGH TO GET A PROPER BEDFRAME //SHAKES HIM

-

conclusion = never make me do this again

i went through a crisis trying to answer this ask. people are allowed to have different opinions of course, but this is My View. i hope this response was at the very least entertaining. KBKSJFSDF

[iwillseeyouinanother-life]

I finished sunrise on the reaping

That is the most painful book I’ve ever read in my fucking life dude.

- snow you fugly bitch you don’t deserve anything good.

- Haymitch from the moment he was reaped never had a fucking chance.

- I saw theories floating around about the clock arena in catching fire— how each wedge was meant for a victor. I think the Jabbarjays were meant for Haymitch.

- I don’t think Mags suffered a stroke I think her impairments are from capital torture

- also loved that Mags was Haymitch’s mentor

- “it’s okay to cry around Mags.” oh my god 🥺

- honest to god my hatred for Snow made me miss Gale— I HATE GALE BUT MAN I HATE SNOW MORE— I’d rather Gale be annoying than Snow be viscous.

- the epilogue “I have to take care of my family” HE LOVES THEM !! THEY BECAME A LITTLE FAMILY 🥹🥲

- using poetry to showcase Haymitch’s decaying mental state and decent into insanity was powerful.

- Katniss stealing goose eggs for Haymitch is so funny

- we fucking fell for capital propoganda in Catching Fire when they watch the playbacks of Haymitch’s games

- the fact that the first time Haymitch ACTUALLY gets picked in the reaping is Catching Fire— made me so angry for him.

- Lucy Gray Baird crumbs— delicious

- also why does Snow have a habit of trauma dumping to 16 year olds he plans on using as punching bags. The fuck???

- LENORES DEATH WAS SO SINISTER AND EVIL AND HORRIFIC AND GUT WRENCHING— SUZANNE WHY WOULD YOU EVER WRITE THAT.

- I did cry a lot during Maysilee’s death. Haymitch saying he went from hating her to loving her like family hit me like a fucking bus.

- I went into this being like— we already know what happens. How bad could it be?— worse. Awful. Horrible. We asked for it. We payed for it. Keep Finnick’s backstory in THE FUCKING VAULT BITCH WE ARE SORRY— WE LEARNED OUR LESSON SUZANNE 🫨

- reading this knowing what happens was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead of shoes dropping it was fUCKING ANVILS BITCH.

- so happy we got more Mags lore

- Beatee and his son. Hey girl fuck you. Fuck you Snow. Eat shit bitch.

It was a great read but man it was emotionally harrowing as FUCK. I read the original trilogy because of this book announcement. I read it for Haymitch because he is my favorite. No regrets. Just tears. 10/10 highly recommend. If you are sensative get tissues.

[junkdrawerfan]

Adding to this:

The BatFam takes turns writing their own murder mystery dinners. Once every three months (or when time and Lady Gotham allows) one of them writes a script and hires a selection of vetted actor groups they favor and usually rent out. Sometimes they mix it up by hiring a new group just so no one can get used to an actor’s tells. Alfred works with backstage to set the stage in the lesser used west wing of the manor. They hire out for catering.

Once Jason asked Two-Face to help him plot out his night. It’s some of the most fun the family has had in years. It takes Tim and Damian working together to get the murder weapon right and that bonding experience carried them through the next three patrols before their next stupid argument.

Bruce has a bad habit of basing his nights on other heroes cases. His favorite are stealing particularly difficult cases from Barry and asking the speedster to help him recreate the exact proper blood splatters and environmental damage needed (helpful with a speedster’s memory and speed plus it lets Barry flex his education!)

Tim’s are as convoluted and drama filled as a soap opera but also 100% logical and can be solved with “reasonable deductions.” Bruce and Dick have the best chance of solve them because they’ve worked with Tim the longest and half the time to solve it you have to put yourself in Tim’s mindset.

Cass struggles with writing murder cases. She prefers thefts and kidnapping cases. She bonds with Selena while writing her cases and uses silly props like stuffed animals and bags of candy as the “stolen good” that the winner gets to keep at the end. Her nights are always fun and light and it’s just a break from having to think about the dark sides of Gotham. She loves a happy ending.

Dick helps Damian write his first one. Not because Damian isn’t creative but because a part of himself — a part that gets smaller every day as he gets used to life in Gotham and gets closer to his family — is convinced this needs to be “training” and that keeps undermining his creativity. Dick is the ultimate combination of hypeman and rubber duck, gently course correcting when Damian gets too stuck in his head.

Dick is the first one to host a murder mystery. It’s his idea after the OG Teen Titans don’t invite him to a group hangout. It starts either spite and he plans to play it with his friends but the more he works, the more realistic and complicated it gets, the more he starts thinking about his family, about how much they’d enjoy it, how much fun it could be to just… play a game with Bruce again… so he starts adding little surprises, inside jokes and references that only the Bat Clan could understand. And then he has to play it with his family. He just has to.

He asks Alfred first because it would be a lot of work and he doesn’t even know where to start. And Alfred is a little unsure until he reads the script and he’s reminded of playing pretend with a sweet 10 year old boy who brought so much joy and life to a cold empty manor. Suddenly Alfred knows he will do everything in his power to help Dick. He finds and vets the first actor group. He hires staff to air out the west wing and resources the decor and water-soluble fake blood Dick needs to recreate the murder.

They plan it all for four weeks before Halloween. Gotham is always slower in the lead up to the Halloween as the rogues prep their yearly hellscape. Jason is the hardest to convince, he’s as paranoid as the Bat when it comes to Halloween as Crime Alley tends to take some hard hits, and finds it irresponsible to take a whole night off. But Tim and Damian work on him (annoy him and convince him in equal measure) until he agrees. Tim and Damian need no convincing. They see how happy the idea makes Dick and they love their Big Brother. Cass doesn’t understand at first, she’s never even heard of a murder mystery dinner but once it’s explained to her she loves it and drags Steph to a normal one so she’ll have more reference when the family plays.

Bruce is the last one to find out, by design. Dick is nervous. He doesn’t want Bruce to dismiss it. He’s scared Bruce will find it a waste of time. Alfred thinks about stepping in, smoothing things over. But he knows when some conversations need to be just between father and son.

Dick asks him a week before. He thinks it’ll give him enough time to change Bruce’s mind if he needs to. Bruce listens attentively. He turns his whole body towards Dick while he rambles through a half prepared speech. Dick says, “It’s not training” at least three times because it’s important Bruce understands how much Dick wants to just play around like they used to when they were younger and things felt lighter.

Bruce takes the time to think but he is thinking. Dick can tell. He knows how to read Bruce’s silences and it helps Bruce isn’t trying to hide his intentions.

B: Who will cover for us while we’re gone?

D: The Birds of Prey said they’d cover for the night.

B: Okay.

D: Okay?

“Yes…” Bruce smiles, that warm upturn of the lips that still feels like home. “I am excited to play with you all.”

It’s everything Dick hoped for! And it’s the start of a tradition.

I know we all live the “Batfam isn’t allowed to go to crime drama watch parties or mystery shows because they crack it in five seconds” trope, but hear me out:

They’re terrible at it, because they’re trained for real life, and real life lacks all the drama. Worse. They can’t interrogate suspects themselves, check the crime scenes, follow their normal protocols.

They’re not invited because they keep complaining about what they would do.

They still excel at escape rooms, but that’s because of the riddler.

[somethingvicked]

The Memory of Her

An Eddie Munson one-shot.

Warnings: female reader, angst, feelings on inadequacy, mentions of Chrissy Cunningham's death and Vecna. No use of Y/N. Clueless boyfriend Eddie!

Eddie was late. Again.

Usually it didn’t bother you – at least not very much – that he was rarely on time, to anything. But today it was your date night and more importantly, your anniversary.

Well, sort of an anniversary – three months. And Eddie had insisted that you should celebrate it, big!

”It’s a half-half year,” he had told you excitedly. ”Of course we need to celebrate that. Every one of these days with you is worth celebrating!”

God, you loved him.

And you knew he loved you. But you weren’t certain he loved you most of all. More than her.

Her. Chrissy Cunningham. The queen of Hawkins High. The sweet cheerleader that had met her death in Eddie’s trailer that spring, merely months before graduation.

Back then you barely knew Eddie, even though you attended the same school. You knew of him, naturally. No one going to Hawkins High could miss Eddie Munson. But you hadn’t hung out. You didn’t think him and his friends deserved the bullying and harassment they got, however, and even though you weren’t a part of their gang you always made sure to be polite and nice to them and interfering whenever you could when Jason and his goons tormented them. Despite that you never had been a primary target for it, you hated bullying of all kind.

You had been shocked to hear that Chrissy had died in the Munson’s trailer and that Eddie was the main suspect. You couldn’t imagine Eddie hurting Chrissy – despite his loud rants and clear disdain for the jocks he had always been courteous to the cheerleaders, and every other girl, really.

You knew of his little side business – everyone knew of that too, and you figured Chrissy had gone to him to score drugs, even though you had never heard of her trying the stuff before. But that made more sense than Eddie kidnapping her and slaughtering her in his trailer – in his trailer!

Even if he had done it you doubted he would be stupid enough to just leave her there. No, something else was going on.

You hadn’t learned exactly what until you and Eddie started dating. After he had come out from the hospital, cleared of suspicion and charges by Chief Hopper; suddenly back from the dead.

You had witnessed the scars on Eddie’s body one time when he changed shirts and asked in horror what had caused them. That’s when he told you.

About the Upside Down. About Vecna. About what had happened to Chrissy, Fred and Patrick. What had almost happened to Max.

It was hard to believe at first, but those scars… they didn’t look like anything you had seen before. And Eddie took you to meet the others of his ’party’, letting them tell you of their experience. You saw the scar around Steve’s neck from one of the demobats’ tail. The scars on his stomach.

Nancy told you about what happened to Barb.

Jonathan told you what had happened to Will, with Will nodding.

Most of all, El showed you some of her powers.

Everything Eddie had told you was the truth. There had been a threat in Hawkins coming from another dimension and only a couple of people had known about it!

Even though Eddie had told you, you felt like you came up short. He rarely talked about it with you, even though you knew he had nightmares about it.

It felt like he didn’t want to talk about it with you, because you hadn’t been there yourself, witnessed it all by your own eyes.

Maybe you could have lived with that if he had gone to his friends whom had also been through it. But instead he went to her. Or more accurately, her grave.

That was how it all had begun. You and Eddie had run into each other at a flower shop. He was there to buy flowers to place on Chrissy’s grave.

You were there to buy flowers for your cousin, whom was recovering from an appendectomy.

You had noticed the flowers in Eddie’s hand – pink tulips - and joked with him that it didn’t seem his usual style.

He had snorted out a laugh but told you that they were for Chrissy, that it was the first time he was able to visit it, after he had gotten out of the hospital.

You had immediately felt bad for him, imagined how he must feel, Chrissy dying in his home and him being wrongly accused of killing her.

You hadn’t been able to help yourself, you had given him a hug and he had immediately clung to you, clearly in need of the comfort.

To show your support you had followed him to Chrissy’s grave, not wanting to let him go alone.

The fact that your relationship had started by you two visiting his former love interest’s grave... that said something.

You learned that Eddie and Chrissy had never been a couple. In fact, they had barely known each other more than you and he had, but the way he spoke about her. How he had made her laugh when she was clearly under so much stress, how she had felt safe enough to get into his van and ride to his home, despite just meeting him...

It was clear as day to you that Eddie had been in awe of her. And that they probably would have gotten together if Chrissy had lived.

It hurt. Already back then it hurt to think about that.

After that, you and Eddie had gone for a milkshake together and then it was suddenly just the two of you again, getting to know each other and having fun.

When he drove you home he had asked if you wanted to go out with him again. On a date.

Of course you said yes. Because you had fallen in love with him.

Still. You would lie if you said you were completely happy with your relationship. You weren’t.

Because when Eddie got you flowers, it was pink tulips. The same flowers he had bought that day in the flower shop – for Chrissy.

He had never said but you suspected they were her favorite flower.

You? You didn’t even like tulips. You loved flowers for their scent, not because of how they looked. Your favorites were lily of the valley and freesias.

Eddie didn’t know that though, because he had never asked.

You knew that the first time Eddie and Chrissy met where at the talent show in sixth grade, when Chrissy preformed her cheerleading routine and Eddie and his band played.

That Eddie had even invited Chrissy to come to the Hideout and watch Corroded Coffin, but she died before that could happen.

You might have been the first girlfriend to watch Eddie perform but you weren’t the first one he had wanted there.

You knew it was idiotic – being jealous of a dead girl, one that Eddie hadn’t even gotten to the stage of dating! But you were.

Chrissy was a like a constant wedge between you and Eddie. How could you measure up to her? How could anyone measure up to a memory? Especially a memory that Eddie did everything to keep alive instead of letting it rest in peace?

You weren’t her.

Also, small part of you – a vicious one – wanted  to just yell at Eddie that what he hung on to wasn’t even real. Him and Chrissy, it would have never worked out.

Chrissy was the girlfriend of Jason Carver, one of the jocks that made not only Eddie’s life, but all his friends life, hell.

Chrissy knew that. Everyone at Hawkins high knew that and yet she had never blinked an eye about it before she wanted to buy weed. And to tell the truth, she didn’t blink an eye about it then either, since she hadn’t mentioned Jason being a jerk to Eddie, or apologized for it.

Chrissy didn’t remember when she and Eddie first met, Eddie had to be the one reminding her about it.

She may have felt safe with Eddie, he may have eased her stress for a moment but if she hadn’t been in that state of mind – would that even had happened?

No. Good girls like Chrissy Cunningham didn’t mix with the likes of Eddie Munson – three times repeated senior, living at a trailer park, having long hair and playing in a rock band.

You were ashamed to admit thinking such bitter and cruel thoughts. But you knew it was true.

You were woken out of your thoughts when Eddie’s van finally drove up outside your house, him waving and smiling. You did your best to smile back, despite him being nearly twenty minutes late.

”I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie said, kissing your cheek and hugging you tightly. ”I... I just swung by the cemetery first and lost track of time. These are for you,” Eddie said, holding out a bouquet of flowers for you.

Pink tulips. 

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut with a sledgehammer, your breath wheezing out through your lips.

It was just too much. You couldn’t take it anymore.

”Eddie, I want to break up.”

Eddie’s head snapped up so fast you were certain you could hear the joints in his neck popping, his eyes wide at the same time as he dropped the flowers he held.

”W-what?”

”I want to break up,” you repeated, tears brimming in your eyes.

”But... but why?!” he whispered, still in shock, looking like you had slapped him.

”Because… I’m not the girl you want.”

”What are you talking about?! Of course you’re the girl...”

”No, Eddie, I’m not,” you interrupted him. ”I’m the girl that you settled for, now that the girl you want is gone. I will never measure up to Chrissy, will I? You and her, you didn’t get your love story, and yet you’d rather spend your time talking to a tomb stone than me. A memory. Who can live up to a memory, Eddie? You buy me her favorite flowers, without even knowing what mine is. I don’t even like tulips! She was the girl that couldn't recollect the first time you met and yet she’s the one making you late to your anniversary date with me. She's dead and yet you pick her. Over me, your girlfriend."

You shook your head, wiping your tears away. ”I love you but I deserve to be with someone that wants me and only me. No one else, be it a memory or a living person."

Eddie stood and listened to you, his mouth hanging open. When you backed up a step to walk away he grabbed on to your arm.

”And do I get a say in this?”

”What is there to say?”

”That I do want you! I love you, sweetheart! I... I can’t believe that I’ve made you feel like... I’m so sorry!”

Eddie burst out in tears, sinking to his knees and burying his face against your belly. ”Please, no... don’t leave me. I can’t lose you! Don’t you see?! Losing you would hurt a million times worse than seeing Chrissy die!”

Now it was your turn to drop your jaw, looking down at him, not understanding what you heard.

”What?!”

”Sweetheart...  I was never in love with Chrissy. I felt sorry for her when we met up for weed and wanted to try and ease her mind, cheer her up. I didn’t know then she was targeted by Vecna but it was obvious something was wrong. I was surprised when she agreed to ride in my van with me, going to the trailer park. I thought she would stick her pretty nose up and refuse to even set her foot in such a place. I was glad to see that despite her questionable taste in boyfriends and friends she seemed to have an open mind. But the only thing I thought about was that I hoped Jason wouldn’t find out and kick my ass for it, not how I was going to make her date me!”

Eddie looked up at you and rubbed his hands along your sides. “Sweetheart, the pink tulips… I don’t even know what Chrissy’s favorite flower was. I buy them for you because those were the flowers I picked out when you and I first met. They… they are like a lucky charm - they brought you to me."

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. I didn’t know you didn’t like them. And… me going to her grave tonight… it’s… it wasn’t because I missed her. I still feel horrible about her dying, that I couldn’t do shit to prevent it. But… we barely knew each other. How can I miss someone that I barely knew? And that… that’s the point, baby.”

“What?” you whispered, your hands now going to his hair, stroking it.

“I feel so guilty that I’m so fucking happy all the time now. That the best thing to ever happen to me came to be because she died. How horrible does that sound?! I realize I don't think about her and what happened anymore – and it makes me feel like I’m some kind of sociopath. Because I can only think of you and what you mean to me. I talked to Wayne about it and he… he suggested I went to Chrissy’s grave and talked about it, like she was there, listening. Getting it all out, so I could… move on. With you.”

Now it was your turn to sink to your knees, your hands cupping Eddie’s face.

“R-really?” you whispered. “

Eddie nodded. “Yes. Shit, sweetheart, I didn’t know you were feeling like this… I’m a terrible boyfriend, making you think you were second best, that you could be anything other than the love of my goddamn life. There is no measurement, because you are my everything!”

You believed him. Finally you believed him, warmth welling up inside your chest, the tears running down your cheeks again but this time it was out of happiness.

“Please, don’t break up with me,” Eddie whispered and you shook your head.

“No. I’m sorry too, Eds.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Eddie kissed you, both of you still on your knees on the sidewalk before he pulled back, looking into your eyes.

“For future reference – what is your favorite flower?”

You were about to answer before you looked at the bouquet still lying on the sidewalk in its wrapping and smiled.

“You know what… I think… I think these are my new favorites after all.”

tag list: @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @melodymunson @jenniquinn

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle

[newobsessionweekly]

No way out

part 1

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: When you finally find the courage to take action against your abusive boyfriend, Tim is there to save you. And something happens inside the two of you.

Angst

Warnings: Domestic abuse, emotional distress, violence, protective behavior, slow-burn romance, language.

A/N: As I promised, I will be more active around here. I got a request and decided to turn it into a mini series, I hope you'll like it. Feedback is always appreciated!! Take care of yourselves, bubs! Lots of love! 🫶🏻✨

Words: -

You were gasping for air before you even hit the floor.

The impact of your body slamming into the hardwood rattled your bones, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating terror gripping your chest. The room was spinning, but you forced yourself to look up—his shadow loomed over you, sharp and menacing under the dim light.

"You're always making me do this," he seethed, his voice thick with anger. "Why do you have to push me?"

You curled into yourself, the familiar sting of his words cutting just as deep as the bruises that would form later. Your body ached, but it was the emotional toll that shattered you the most. Because you knew him. You knew the boy he used to be—the high school sweetheart who held your hand in the hallways, who kissed you under the bleachers, who swore he’d never hurt you.

But that version of him was long gone.

A sob choked in your throat as you turned your head, eyeing your phone on the couch just a few feet away. He was pacing now, running a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath about how sorry he was, how it wasn’t his fault.

It was now or never.

With all the strength left in you, you lunged for the phone, snatching it into your trembling hands as you scrambled backward. He spun around, rage twisting his face.

"Don't you dare—"

You pressed 911.

"911, what’s your emergency?"

Your voice cracked. "Please, I—I need help. My boyfriend—he—"

A hand yanked your wrist so hard you thought it might break. The phone clattered to the floor, but the call was still connected.

"You think they can help you?" he sneered, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You're nothing without me."

But he was wrong. For the first time in years, you felt something shift inside you. A quiet, burning defiance.

And then, in the distance—sirens.

Tim Bradford had answered countless domestic calls. Some ended peacefully, some turned violent, but every single one had the same thread of despair woven through them.

Tonight felt different.

Lucy kept checking the address, her expression tight. “Tim,” she said suddenly. “I know her.”

He flicked a glance at her, hands steady on the wheel. “Who?”

“The victim. Y/N. She’s my friend.”

His jaw flexed. He didn’t like that. “You knew she was in trouble?”

Lucy hesitated. “I—suspected. I asked her before, but she never admitted it.”

Tim exhaled sharply through his nose.

They pulled up to the house—lights off, curtains drawn. The kind of place where bad things happened in silence.

He stepped out first, scanning the surroundings. He didn’t like this either. The neighborhood was quiet, too quiet. He unholstered his weapon, nodding at Lucy to follow.

They approached the door. Tim knocked, hard. “LAPD! Open up!”

Nothing.

He could hear muffled yelling inside, a crash, then a choked cry.

Tim's patience snapped. He stepped back and kicked the door open in one powerful motion, the wood splintering under his boot.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

You were on the floor, bruised, tears streaking down your face. And your boyfriend—your attacker—stood over you, his face twisted in fury.

"Get your hands where I can see them!" Tim barked, stepping between you and the man without a second thought.

"She’s my girlfriend!" the guy snapped. "This is none of your business!"

Tim had him pinned against the wall in two steps. He twisted the guy’s arm behind his back, forcing him to his knees. “You like hurting people?” Tim growled. “Try me.”

Your boyfriend grunted in pain, but Tim didn’t care. He snapped the cuffs on, yanking him upright.

Lucy immediately rushed to you. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”

Your eyes were still locked on Tim. He wasn’t sure what you were looking at—the gun, the badge, or something else entirely.

“Y/N.” Lucy touched your arm, voice soft. “You’re safe.”

Your breath came out in a shudder, and your knees nearly buckled. Tim watched as Lucy steadied you, gently guiding you toward the couch.

For the first time since they arrived, you exhaled.

The paramedics checked you over, but Tim never left your side. He told himself he was just being thorough, but deep down, he knew better.

Lucy knelt beside you, guilt written all over her face. "I’m so sorry. I should have seen the signs. I should have helped—"

You shook your head. "You couldn’t have known."

Tim watched the way your hand trembled against the blanket draped over your shoulders. Without thinking, he reached out, gripping your fingers lightly.

Your breath hitched. His touch was warm, grounding, and for the first time in years, you felt safe.

It was wrong. You had just gotten out of hell, and here you were, noticing the strength in his hands, the way his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

But when he squeezed your hand back—just a little—you knew he felt it too. Something dangerous simmers in his gaze, something fierce and protective and angry—not at you, but for you.

The night ends in a blur. Statements. Paperwork. More questions than you have answers for. But through it all, Tim is there.

He stands close—not too close, but enough that you feel his presence like a shield. Whenever someone else talks to you, his eyes never leave you.

It's overwhelming. And yet... comforting. You don't even realize how exhausted you are until it’s over.

"You have somewhere to stay?" Tim asks.

Lucy speaks before you can. "She’s staying with me."

Tim nods, but something about his expression stays tight, unreadable. His eyes flick to yours once more, and for a split second, you swear you see something there—something you shouldn’t.

And then he turns away.

When Tim gets back in the shop, he doesn’t start the engine.

Instead, he turns to Lucy. And snaps.

"What the hell, Lucy?" His voice is sharp, cutting. "You’re a cop. How did you not see what was happening to your own friend?"

Lucy’s eyes widen. "Tim, I—"

"You should have known," he growls, slamming his hands against the wheel. "You should have done something."

"I didn’t know!"

"That’s the problem!"

The car falls silent.

Lucy swallows hard, guilt written all over her face. "Why do you care so much?"

Tim opens his mouth—then closes it. He doesn’t know.

But something about the way you looked at him—something about the way he felt when he saw you on that floor—unsettles him.

And for the first time in a long time, Tim Bradford doesn’t know what to do with himself.

[rei-ismyname]

X-Manhunt Chuck Hunt Omega Review

It's been a short and baffling road that's led us here to the finale of Chuck Hunt, but fortunately it's very easy to sum up for anyone coming in blind. Charles Xavier received a distress call from his Shi'Ar daughter Xandra and escaped from prison while affected by a brain tumor. Inconveniencing various X-Men along the way, he resurrected his long dead wife, Lilandra, and brought her up to speed. He's fucking off to space (again) with his imperialist bird wife (again) to heal a sickness (again.) It doesn't make any sense at all, so join me in the absurdity of disconnected action scenes and OOC moments before a big goodbye. Like Game of Thrones season 8, it looks great and makes little sense while blowing stuff up.

Frankly, I've found this event really frustrating. Chuck visited most of the X-books for an issue but the character and relationship payoffs have been slim. Exceptional X-Men handled it best by not having him appear at all, Red Skies Crossover style. Xavier has had a tremendous impact on everyone's life but he's only engaged with them performatively and superficially. It feels like he doesn't really care about the chaos he leaves in his wake, which is nothing new, and the resolution of his mission has been spoiled by solicits. I'm not mad about it, it's so ridiculous that I have to laugh.

In what's becoming a hallmark of From The Ashes, a flashback recontextualises the inter X-Men team dynamics. Scott thinks Xavier should stay in prison; Rogue disagrees and thinks Scott has some scheme requiring his absence, for reasons. Scott's dream speech is hilariously nonsensical while Rogue is just being obnoxious.

Gambit interjects before Scott can finish a sentence and Magik says what I've been thinking - 'what did Scott do?' What's the fucking problem, yo? We've seen in Uncanny that, yes, it is personal. Scott's name has been used as an insult. They relitigate the fall of Krakoa for some reason, with Rogue having an interesting summation. 'Taking out Phoenix' had only the broadest relationship to Krakoa's fall. Xavier surrendered due to ORCHIS sneaking a kill switch into Krakoan drugs, then he forced everyone through the gates. Rogue had the best view of anyone, as she carried Xavier to Krakoa where he broke down over thinking he'd killed everyone. She missed the rest because of Avengers duty.

The characters and the readers are both being gaslit into swallowing this tripe. I don't have room to show it, but Mystique is here to look sad. Mystique hates Chuck, and she should. Melee, Bronze, and the Outliers are here crying over a dude they've never met. Magneto has nothing to say, nor does Juggernaut. X-Manhunt has been a mishmash of discontinuity with motivations changing from page to page, let alone between issues. It's simply unbelievable that anyone would believe the narrative Chuck is selling, but that's what's on the page. There's no resolution here, no nod to history, recent or otherwise. Chuck is leaving and that's that, delusional goodbye speech and all.

I find it helpful to imagine circus music playing in the background of this discussion. Rogue has conspiracy theories, Gambit backs up Rogue, Scott is rendered speechless, and Magik tries to be the adult in the room. The only thing they achieve is a tentative alliance, something they probably had anyway. The best part is that none of this matters even a little bit. By the end they'll all be herded to where Chuck, ringleader of this circus, wants them.

Ilyana has multiple swords now, and Scott powers one up with optic blasts for THE RED SURFER! She could just teleport, but this is looks cooler. Why show tactics when you can go fucking cowabunga dudes! Lilandra is having a yarn to Chuck while giving him brain surgery, lol. It's standard curriculum for all Shi'Ar rulers. Gladiator could do this but he doesn't want to. She talks about her and Chuck feeling pain but it's overwhelmingly his 'children' that suffer. Obviously Yana is blown out of the sky, only to be caught by a demon Kaiju she summoned. Obviously.

Sage appears out of nowhere with John Wraith in tow, who has a robot Kaiju Sage borrowed from Storm. Yeah, Storm has Evangelion shit on her spaceship. Anyway, John speaks entirely in bible verse. They have a Kaiju fight, which wasn't on my Chuck Hunt bingo card, and Magik gets fucked up. SCARLET SCATTERSHOT! No onomatopoeia here - we're naming moves because it's just so 3P1C!!!1! Magik is explicitly said to be bleeding out but nobody takes it very seriously. She'll be fine.

Magik easily teleports Scott onto Mr and Mrs Avian's fleeing ship, so yes they could have done this at any time. In a Hallmark moment, Scott removes his visor with a single tear streaming down his face. That's how we know this is emotional. It's been ten minutes and the brain surgery is nearly done lol, but it's kinda irrelevant because Chuck sends his astral form to just talk to Scott.

Xavier says the most insane shit possible in his speculation as to why he's being pursued. 'I'm trying to bail on all my responsibilities after fucking you all over. Why are you chasing me?' Scott's muzzle is finally removed so he can tell this man how delusional he is. Xavier comes clean about his moronic schemes and then claims that he's sacrificed so much for others. Probably not the best argument for a child soldier whose life you controlled since he was 15. Who's spent his entire life bleeding for your dream, which you're giving up on. Chuck is actually mad that Scott doesn't get it, when he's kept everything a secret. What's more, Scott has zero reaction to this revelation. None. Chuck is leaving and there's no time to payoff even the meagre emotional stakes that were setup. Don't worry, they'll get shit on even further.

Obviously he's yeeted off the ship by an unnamed move. How can we tell what it is? My suggestion would be END OF ACT 2 BEAM! As Scott plummets to his death, the ringleader cracks the whip and X-Men come tumbling out of a clown car. Rogue catches him, in a completely unearned moment of solidarity. It's surprising, yes, in the same way a baby is surprised at peek-a-boo. There's no object permanence here as people just appear where they're needed for the next bombastic moment. Instead of being relieved, Scott feels that he's failed. That they'll be blamed for the mess Chuck left behind. It's a valid position, considering The O*N*E came for them over a lot less than this. He has a panic attack and starts shooting optic blasts everywhere. That's not how they work, but it doesn't matter. Just pretend everyone has a red nose on as the circus music intensifies.

Yep, that's definitely the most appropriate way to handle Scott's very real mental health issues. Stab the motherfucker. Only the homoeroticism of Logan gently penetrating his ex gives it any kind of grace. Circus music clashes with 'intimate violence in the rain' vibes but that's what Chuck Hunt is - disparate scenes that would be powerful with setup and context smashed together to elicit unearned emotional response.

I'm not even going to touch Logan's lengthy Super Saiyan speech. He says some dumb shit then stabs Scott in the gut. Rogue could have stopped this far more safely. The point is that Chuck is gone and they have to make their own way. Scott already knew that, in fact he knew it twenty years ago. Scott's dead and Xavier is in space.

Good news everyone! Scott is totally fine, despite the very lethal gut stabbing. Ilyana too. Xavier's tumor is fixed like the trifle it is and he's back already, having summoned an arbitrary group of mutants for an unearned goodbye. The guard that killed his family and the entire city of San Francisco? Fuck them, somebody else's problem. It takes some gall to make us jump through all these hoops and present dire problems (like Xandra) only to not pay them off at the end. In fact, they never mattered in the first place. Xandra is barely mentioned, just a McGuffin who's probably having her teeth pulled out with pliers.

We also learn that Xavier had some great soup here once. Nice!

Logan doesn't want to fight. Growth! He apologises for the trivial wound he gave Scott, who shrugs it off. I don't care what Brevoort says, this is flirting.

Xavier has the balls to say that mutants are choosing to fight each other, when that's clearly not true. It's also the reason he formed the X-Men - to beat down mutants who weren't behaving themselves. They were fighting because of you, buddy. For some reason nobody challenges this, nor his claim that he never wanted to be a general. Scott didn't either - you made him one. Shit, maybe we're still in Graymalkin and this is all a hallucination. It doesn't look anything like reality. I suppose it's a small price to pay for being rid of Chuck for a few years, but it's an audacious misrepresentation of X-Men history.

It's cost you? YOU? Motherfucker that is a terrible apology. 'Well, it's been tough for me, which I'm sorry for, and that's why I'm leaving. Good luck living in the mess I created. Catch you later when the MCU synergy comes.'

Emma kisses him on the cheek and tells him he deserves it. Why not? It's not like she hates him or anything. 🙄 Kids who have never met him or heard of him are crying but Scott has zero reaction. Nada. Contradicts everything we've been shown, even in this event. If that's what it takes to get rid of Chuck? Sure, see you later dude. Scott should start a school, you say? I know a great place for that, but it's been turned into a ghoulish prison due to someone's actions. Scott is at war with the USA - fortunately DOOM is building schools. Let's go with that. Maybe he's just exhausted with this man and his schemes within schemes. He should have known the chessmaster had a ruse going, one that gave him PTSD and fucked everything up.

There's so many things I could be mad about, but who has the energy? We jumped through flaming hoops to get here and ignored character moments that make any sense in favour of dizzying spectacle. As Gambit does cartwheels, the circus music plays Chuck out, and I choose to clap like a walrus. X-Manhunt wasn't very good - it wasn't trying to be good, but maybe the X-books can figure out a new Chuck-less thesis or identity. Imperial should be fun, and really we're just playing a familiar beat - Chuck bailing to space while the X-Men get on with their lives. Nice to see he's recovered quickly from brain surgery too. Good for him, and nice work Lilandra.

[camelspit]

Alvar Vacker by @aurenflare

Tiergan Alenefar by @flori-doodles

Definition of a sexyman: An often pathetic and/or evil man who is sexy (but perhaps not in the conventional sense)

Propaganda:

Alvar Vacker:

"he's SO pathetic!!! he literally became evil because his younger brother is prettier than him. he commits so many evil acts and somehow fucks up every single time. he almost dies on several occasions. he was stuck in a pod of troll goo. then he decides to fake his death and hide out in humanland, where he immediately decides that pancakes, cable tv, and korean skincare are his new best friends." @arsonistblue

"HE'S HOT?? HE LOVES PANCAKES?? SEXY??? HE WAS EVIL THEN HE WASN'T THEN BOOM HE WAS AND HE'S A LIL PATHETIC MAN <33 VOTE FOR MR PANCAKE™" @siennamakeschaos

"alvar has it all 😌 he's sexy AND evil AND pathetic. so pathetic. the most pathetic man alive possibly. nothing has gone his way and i can't say he's dealt with it well but u see. that only serves to make him more of a sexyman. VOTE ALVAR !!!!!" @aurenflare

"hes SOOOOOOO skrunkly simply how could you resist. has three girlfriends buckets of charm and a banging ability but he turned evil just because he was jealous of his little brother. got chopped up and gooped but he keeps trucking on pathetically. he deserves the world and also to die but most of all he deserves YOUR vote for sexyman <3" anonymous

"No but if Alvar doesn't win. Y'all he was BORN to Tumblr sexyman. He has orchestrated terrorism and violent attacks on 12 year olds. He hates his little brother for being cooler than him. He's canonically insanely hot and he's TERRIBLY unethical with this power because he had three girlfriends who didn't know about each other. He manipulates his little brother's ex best friend into giving him affection. He desperately wants to be loved and he can never get it. He loves pancakes. He wants to be just a guy but is pathetically hungry to receive his abilities back when he gets the chance. He gets thrown away by a terrorist organization he believed cared about him. His family actually loves him but he's so broken by the belief that they don't that he can never receive it. Did I mention he likes pancakes" anonymous

"f slur (lovingly)" anonymous

"I am a very sexy man. Ergo, I should be keeper sexyman" @alvarthethiccpipecleaner

"He’s gay and so very very stupid." anonymous

"he's just. he loves pancakes??? and skincare??? and he's so absolutely pathetic. there's like four pages in legacy where in between every thing he says, sophie's like 'he looks sick and pathetic lol' so yeah vote this pathetic hot evil man for kotlc sexyman" anonymous

"Alvar has two sides: evil scar-covered villain bent on killing siblings and cute soft boy older brother figure who likes pancakes. Both would be valid to argue for sexyman status but the combination is what makes him exceptional. Also he canonically had three girlfriends (and ruy let's be honest), like this dude is so hot in-universe it's not even funny." anonymous

"look man im not even an alvarhead but you gotta admit hes pretty funny. hot enough to get three girlfriends and yet so insecure he joined a terrorist organization because he thinks everyone likes his little brother better. keeps on failing at everything. got goop’d. etc." anonymous

Tiergan Alenefar:

"he's awkward. he's transgender. he has antennae. he's a dad. he's arguably the only character who doesn't give a shit about sophie's love life. he's sopping wet. he wears a rock man costume when he commits crimes. he's even gay" @arsonistblue

"his middle name is literally transgenderism. what else do you want me to say." @necromycologist

"f slur (lovingly)" anonymous

"hes gay, hes a twink, he wistfully stares into the sunset in the human world for his man prentice, hes a rock, hes so pathetic wet cat, he commits crimes, hes a dad of like 5, he really said fuck you to alden and adopted sophie, he has long blonde hair, how could you not love him

also look at his jawline like ok baddie🤫🧏" anonymous

Want to submit propaganda? Do so here and it will be added in the next round!