#c: masked assassin

[egyptroyal]

Rose returned back home. Rested, stomach wound healed thanks to Vin's Miss Lovett's bruise cream with nanogenes. They wouldn't say how she got the wounds when she asked or where or how long she was out. One minute she remembered sports news and the next she was"Welcome to Torchwood: Svalba—" Rose was cut off by the sight of her husband. Freshly shaved. And accompanied with familiar faces. "Well, hey there stranger."

He gave pause, really looking at her. As if looking for something. But, he didn't respond. Her smile falters a bit. He took a step to her but, she hadn't moved. His eyes was more worried than usual. A silence between the two for a moment.

"A demon, Rose?" The faint smile drops which was all he needed while holding her dimension hopper. Dangling it with two fingers.

"I d–" It wasn't the usual 'i don't know what you mean' excuse that was expected, rather it was more of genuine confusion. And a sinking feeling like something was wrong. Really wrong. She was going to say she didn't know any demons. Well, aside the one they casted out into a black hole.

And he knew there was a blockade of her mind. Something she couldn't see but, oh he could. He could see it all. He didn't need to touch her temples - no, far too old for that by now - to see the tampering of her mind.

Genuinely make her see what was never there, fight what was never there, speak words that were never her own, hear what was never truly said or spoken.

A manipulation of the most detailed kind that affected even the people around her upon sight, upon exposure. And she deserved to know. His wife deserved to know. They deserved to know.

All he needed to do was simply open the door to her.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry, Rose."

Her Doctor showed her the truth. Why her hands was aching, why her abdomen would ache, why her nose would drip a spot of blood, her jaw slightly ache. Yes, she was healed - nanogenes worked wonders but, the muscles can still ache as if the bruises were there and they were.

She wasn't stuck in a dimension, fighting words and hands to those that threatened her family's existence. Not being attacked by a large mammoth lackey that killed a now-unrecognisable friend. Not being pulled away by her father because this was an excavation mission gone wrong.

No.

Rose attacked her friends - no not just her friends, her new friends. Her friends she grew in comraderie with over sport matches and statistics and leagues. Laughed, booed with, cheered with. Not just her friends but their mother! While one friend was ill, attacked the other and her friend's mum. Before a funeral no less.

And she couldn't stop it. While her friend's husband - one of them - pulled her away to keep them apart. The words she spat, they weren't even her own thoughts let alone her voice. Not even her accent. An accent she lacked the monetary society to talk like that. Knuckles brutal. A rib or two broken - that remnant of the Bad Wolf entity could only do so much unless it chose to obliterate the two humans. Thankfully it hadn't.

She could even see the demon moving simultaneously with her - like watching a Tekken gameplay of the Devil Gene hovering behind her, mimicing her moving. Moving as one than simply marionetting her. When she talked, their lips spoke beside her ear. Practically pressed against her ear as if they were intimate when they never were. And her face hardly registered the hits, the damage the two women gave just outside an ailing friend's door. Rose could see him smiling, watching their eyes, watching their minds, feeding off on it, on them, on her friend as well. Fed off their doubt, distrust, anger, betrayal even.

And she could do nothing. And then Vin came in. As if he knew this would happen to any one of them. She could see the sigils hidden under psychic ink - sigils of the demon's angelic lover long dead and an familiar yet not familir script cover her mouth. While she was restrained, after all, she's tiny, she could see the demon be restrained by a large indigo hand. A faint figure of two wrapping around them. A light blob around the demon's throat and another - a head of blonde twisted curls - kissing the demon into silence while Vin pulled her inside his ship. Miss Lovett seemed to glowed like the sun - faintly pink while looking down at her now on the ground. Vin rushing out - what Rose hoped was tending to her friend's mum and best friend but, heard arguing and then him rushing past them both with her friend in his arms. His hand seemed to both not let her go yet move around the console as if he wasn't holding her at all.

Then, he was gone - a faint sound that Rose knew was a hospital but, it was quick. A snippet. But Miss Lovett stayed, gone for a second but was back as if she hadn't moved. Rose could see that Miss Lovett was looking past her - looking at the demon with such vitriol. And she knelt. And smelled up her and the demon's necks like she was savoring something. And then looked at the demon and spoke their language. The Tardis could only translate it to Latin for her.

Rose couldn't speak the language of the Dead. No mortal or immortal could.

There was a smile as she said it. His words to her when he killed her, what he whispered when he choked Miss Lovett out in 1988. Rose didn't dare try to remember them. Was this what Vin felt? When the Demon took over? No, he had a bigger brain space but, was this how he felt all the time? A tear fell off one corner of one of her eyes. The demon morphed into her - into Rose's visage and clothes. Then Miss Lovett kiss her forehead and everything went dark. But, Rose could feel again. She recognized hands but can feel the memory carved out like a scapel as the fake one took its' place so seamlessly. The pained numbed so deeply, it made morphine look like a band aid.

And then her Doctor pulled her out of the memory.

Rose hung her head in shame. In embarrassment but, also out of anger and sorrow. She had what? Glanced at the demon and spoke at it to acknowledge it was in the room like a lamp or a chair for what? Two seconds? Even worse, she forgot their name. She knew it was a flower. What flower eluded her. She wasn't going back. Maybe a small text reaction to a sports article but, that was tainted now. It tainted their thing. That one bit of solace.

"Jokes on me for making friends outside of work, huh?"

He shook his head, taking her hand. Her Doctor wanted to say it wasn't her fault. Being vulnerable in something she liked. Being excited, being involved, being attached. He saw she cared for those people - even at his anger for them not seeing what was wrong, too blinded by menial things to him - he saw she cared for them. And their menial things. Cared for them to be happy. For their Doctor and who was it? Vin? And their humans? To be happy.

He didn't say it. Instead, he pulled her into a hug. It released whatever grip it still had on her family, her coworkers, her genuine friends. Him watching them from below in the open office snapping out of the haze. One by two by six by many. They will come to her side later, but now? Her Doctor held his Rose.

There will be another time to deal with the demon. Now, is the time to lick one's wounds. Heal. Rest. Strategise.

[egyptroyal]

"Not, really. Well, I mean, there's..." The Doctor had crushes - human crushes - and Yaz's name almost slipped out as an example but, really? She didn't want Yaz to go through this. Just like her tenth self - or was it twenty seventh? - didn't want the blonde Rose Tyler to go through. Or Martha or Donna. Probably the same reason Romana didn't want him to go through this or Patience or – listing. Lists.

List ways to go quiet.

"There's no one else." It was always her and her beautiful ghost monument. The Doctor and the Tardis. Always at the end. Even after everything, everyone, it will always be them two. In the end.

But, that's not what she asked.

"Sort of just mentally shifting everything involving our timelines straight. Labeling by letter. There was a you. It's just the you I met separated from the you now - the previous you in my case - ... merged with the you now. It's how I found this place."

Vin after all called but, he never really gave the where. The Doctor was just grappling with the fact they weren't alone - no, they weren't the last of their kind. Gallifreyan kind. Not anymore. Though, having some new planets unexplored was always fun to do later. Mark it down for later.

"What I am curious on is how my DNA is even pre-registered on that website to even have a match? Let alone yours, Kira? Isn't that bugging anyone else?"

egyptroyal​:

girl-in-the-tardis​:

Before the adults say anything; Alex comes back into the room. He says that he is leaving to go see someone. Meaning his family, though he isn’t too sure if he’s ready to trust the Doctor just yet around his wife and kids.

He hugs his parents goodbye and offers the Doctor a handshake before leaving.

After her oldest leaves to go from his childhood house to his own TARDIS; Kira then asks the Doctor. 

“What are you going to do now?” If she’s like anything like her husband; then she’s got people waiting for her.

The Doctor shook his hand with a sheepish grin before watching him take off, turning her own attention back to them.

“Well, just as usual, I suppose.” She told her with a shrug, not exactly thinking much about it. How could she? Knowing what she knew was impossible and was possible all at the same time. All that time. All those missed chanc– no, best not dwell on that. “Travel about. Saving the planet - the universe. Possibly try to find Jenny again.”

From what her pause before speaking; the Doctor was alone. Till she had mentioned someone by the name of Jenny.

“So no one else?” Kira asks her.

Kira felt like that those were not the first time those words were said to the Time Lady. So why did it felt like she herself had said them to not only to her husband but to the Doctor as well?

[redroses07]

Luigi Mangione x Fiance!Reader

W/C: 1.2k

Summary: You see your fiance on the news, but not for anything good. You argue, and then you fuck.

Warnings: Smut 18+, Minors DNI, fingering, unprotected PinV sex (please use a condom irl), Dom/Sub, smut with feelings, arguing, mention of murder (duh), violence (also duh), swearing, mention of blood, kinda hurt comfort, angst, kinda a crackfic.

A/N: For legal reasons, THIS IS A JOKE. (if you know me irl, no you don't.) Idk y'all, this idea just came to me, and I'll probably be put on a list for this but yk, yolo. Anyways! Enjoy, and lmk in the comments if you want a part two with more angst. Love you guys!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you mutter as you see the news banner. Written in bold capital letters.

‘UNITED HEALTHCARE CEO BRIAN THOMPSON ASSASSINATED BY UNKNOWN MASKED MAN’

A blurry CCTV image pictured a man in a green hoodie. His face was partially masked, but his eyes were still visible.

Your stomach dropped…you would recognize those eyes anywhere

‘he actually did it, that fucking idiot’, You thought to yourself.

You scrambled to find your phone, debating if making a call would consider you an accomplice in court.

You didn’t give a fuck.

You opened your phone, clicking on the only name you had pinned. Your heart rate increased with every ring.

Dial tone.

“Shit.” Your hands shook as you held back tears.

You faced cardiac arrest as your phone began to ring, the name ‘Luigi’ appearing at the top.

“Luigi, you fucking idiot they have you on the news.” You whispered, even if you were alone you couldn’t risk anyone overhearing.

You could hear his heavy breathing through the phone.

"Don't worry, I did what I had to." His usually calm voice was laced with anger.

"Where the hell are you?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll be home soon." He hung up on you.

You shouted in anger and you flung your phone across the room. Plopping down on the couch, you let your head fall into your shaky hands.

You kept your eyes locked on the door, continuing to curse under your breath. Praying that it would soon open, and the man you loved would walk through unharmed.

Someone, somewhere, must have heard your pleas because several minutes later Luigi came flying through the door. Out of breath, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He had a horrified look in his eyes, rightfully so.

You wasted no time, springing from your seat and rushing towards him. Taking his face in your hands you inspected him for any injuries, thankful for less than a scratch.

"Baby I'm fine." He took your hand in his, moving it away from his face.

"Well, yeah physically. But are we going to ignore the fact that you're now a fucking fugitive?" You shouted, refusing to hold back your anger.

"You don't understand. He fucking deserved it."

You pulled away from him, walking to the other side of the room.

"I'm not saying he didn't. but they're gonna catch you eventually, and then what?"

"I guess I'll go to jail. Sometimes these things have to be done. Violence has to be fought with violence."

Tears welled in your eyes, but they were no longer fearful. They were tears of rage.

"Are you serious?" You threw your hands up in the air.

"This is bigger than us, I want things to change for everyone." He took a few steps toward you, eyes not leaving you.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do if you're in jail? I fucking love you, Luigi. I understand what you're trying to do, but what if I'm not ready to make those sacrifices." Your voice was broken.

Luigi was silent. Staring at you with glassy eyes, and you could tell he was holding back tears as well.

You went back to your place on the couch, beginning to cry. You hid your face, tears falling into your sweaty palms.

After several moments alone, you felt a strong arm wrap around your body. Luigi pulled you into him, your cold skin pressed against his warm chest.

"I'm sorry." From the sound of it, Luigi was crying along with you.

"Hey, look at me." Lugi placed his hand under your chin, lifting your gaze.

"No matter what happens, I swear on my fucking life that I will find my way back to you." He didn't stutter, he didn't falter. He was the most honest man you knew, and his words gave you hope.

His lips crashed against yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss. It was as if it was the last time your lips would ever meet, and perhaps it was.

He pulled you even closer to him, and you wished for your bodies to melt into each other. Your hands found his hair, tugging at his loose curls. You let out a small moan. Luigi bit your lip, and the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.

A pair of warm hands pressed themselves against your torso, tightly gripping your skin. Your lips disconnected for only a moment as your shirt was removed, your bra along with it.

You were pushed back against the couch cushion, Luigi's lips exploring your body. You took the opportunity to pull his shirt off, exposing his toned abs.

Before you knew it, your shorts and panties were gone. What had started out as an argument, had turned into the complete opposite.

Luigi sat up, examining you with a loving gaze.

"You're so beautiful." He said before diving into another kiss.

Your tongues tangled together, as Luigi applied pressure to your sensitive clit. You let out a low moan.

Luigi let out a deep laugh, before plunging two fingers into your aching core. You arched your back, unable to take the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

"You like that?" He whispered in your ear. His deep voice made you wetter than you already were; if that was even possible.

Luigi sucked and moaned against your skin as he worked. Your orgasm was approaching faster than normal.

"Fuck, oh fuck, I'm gonna.." You panted.

"Shhh, it's okay baby, cum for me." His free hand comes up to caress your face.

You ride out your orgasm with his fingers still inside of you, and before you know it; he is removing his belt and pants.

It's a blur, and his cock is inside of you. He's pumping in and out of you, slow but not too slow. A passionate type of slow. You had never felt so loved during sex until you met Luigi. Intimacy meant more to him than just pleasure, it was an act of love.

He laced your fingers together as he continued to fuck you, and you had never felt closer to him than you did at this moment. No one but the two of you, and the sounds of your moans.

"I fucking love you." It was the hundredth time he'd said it in the past hour, but it felt the same every time.

Luigi released himself inside of you and collapsed on your chest. He pulled out, his cum leaking from your cunt.

He continued to litter kisses on your skin, whispering praises between each one.

"We'll get through this." He whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You did your best to push your troubles to the back of your mind. As for now, being with him was all that mattered. however, you never knew when it would be the last time.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Popular aesthetics: whump edition!

So this is a silly silly idea that came to me after looking at some older posts that brought up "cottagecore whump" aka, cozy whump and h/c situations taking place in a cottage or cabin. I then got thinking about some other popular aesthetics and how to whumpify them so...this.

Cottagecore: Spoonfuls of honey-laced medicine, quilts, creaking floorboards, panicked hushed voices under the light of kerosene lanterns, no proper insulation; cold and heat alike seeping into an old cottage, a hot fire and wool blankets; a mug of tea clasped between shaking hands

Dark Academia: Storms lashing at the windows, sleepless nights, hoarding secrets that slowly eat away at the psyche, getting trapped in old buildings, reawakened old traumas, dark undereye circles, feverish nightmares, literal and metaphorical ghosts, fires started from spilled candles, old scars

Goblincore: Poisonous fungi, a healer's hut deep in the woods filled with tiny glass bottles housing unsettling contents, chased by creatures that look like familiar woodland animals but aren't, finding bones in the woods (whose are they?), getting lost in the forest late at night, having to build or scrounge for shelter before it gets dark

Light Academia: Waking up in an unfamiliar bed; cold winter light spilling in from the half open window, recovering with quiet but kindly strangers, blood spilled on white marble floors, exhaustedly finding a mostly hidden nook in the library to sleep in, weak tea and bitter medicine, windows rattling ominously late at night

Whimsigoth: Sinister potions from masked figures who claim to know what they're doing, eerie hallucinations, possession, vampire bites and werewolf claws, a murder of crows watching over someone's fitful sleep, hypnosis, breaking curses

Cyberpunk: Hurt and bleeding in a dark and rainy alleyway, running from secretive forces all on your own, unlicensed medical procedures, nowhere to hide, narrowly escaped assassination attempts, bloody hands and knees, numbers counting down to the day you die

[simpingforheros]

Safe

Pairing: Gotham Knights! Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Being a mercenary isn’t easy. Being a lab experiment turned mercenary isn’t easy either. Being a Bio-engineered mercenary in Gotham city with a reformed Red Hood isn’t easy at all.

Warnings: Hurt Comfort, Angst with bittersweet ending, Enemies to Friends??, Female Pronouns, Mild Violence, Horrible Fight Scenes (I’m sorry), Reader is basically Black Cat but little different, implied OOC! Amanda Waller, Mentions of Death, Torture, PTSD, and Panic Attacks.

Author’s Note: I guess I’ll give y’all a break from my Toxic! Jason agenda. But I’m not giving y’all a break from calling y’all out on being slanderous to my underrated, unproblematic princess that is GK! Jason. He may not be as pretty as the other ones, but he got a better relationship with his family than y’all have with y’all’s daddies (jk I’m sorry). Also yes, the reader is Black Cat coded because I love her and I want to see Jason with a cool feline counterpart of his own.

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.

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Fuck. FUCK!

Chanted through her mind as she realizes what the hell she has just done. This whole assignment was a set up from the moment that job listing hit her burner phone. Her clawed gloves raked through her hair as she desperately took in her situation.

Months after the death of Batman, criminals became bolder with their crimes despite the lurking remains of Batman’s legacy. New villains and mercenaries came in to either assist Gotham’s veteran rogues or building their own empires among the shadows of the bigger evil’s crimes. However, Y/N didn’t fall into either category.

Originally a lab rat for Amanda Waller to find a cure for her terminal cancer, the cat like mercenary became a quick popular option among gang leaders and the low life to hire to do quick jobs without minimum risk. Of course the cat like persona wasn’t due to her stealth…

A blast rings out of the previously locked door as the girl’s head snaps back. Her body collapses as the roar of victorious laughter fills the air.

“You see how that bitch’s head just snapped back like a twig?!” Victor Sionas laughed through his leather mask as his golden firearm flashed in the fluorescent light of the value.

It was supposed to be a quick heist, minimum risk on her end. Just grab a hard drive with 6.8 Billion dollars worth of stolen and encrypted medical documents and financial records and leave before Black Mask realized she was there. An easy heist for a fair reward.

Victor’s ranting and raving filled the safe in loud echos as his assistant tries to listen to her pager for their normal disposal team. As the crimson slowly sets into the concrete, a faint green glow began to form around her body. The harsh grit releases her life force as it recedes back into her skull.

Amanda Waller wasn’t normally a desperate woman, but when it came to her life, she didn’t care what criminal she had to deal with to get her life back. Even the League of Assassins…

As the pair was about to leave to attend a meeting of some kind, Y/N didn’t know or care to know as her ears ring back into tune. Her body jolts up as she springs back to life in an instant.

As her eyes meet Sionas’ shocked stare, her lips curled into a wicked smirk. Her E/C eyes shined with a new madness as she flexes her adamantium tipped claws, ready to rip out his throat.

Victor quickly raises his gun ready to shoot again as she swipes at his wrist. The appendage falling to the floor as his screams drowned out the echos of his false victories.

“I guess it was an easy job.” She comments before her claws strike again.

Maybe she should ask for a raise to make up for her dry cleaning?

+++++++++++++++

The crime scene was a bloodbath.

Police scrambled and crawled the building as lights and tape marked the massacre. Every surface, furniture, rug, and plant were all tagged, sprayed, and searched for any bodily matter that could lead you to the person behind this horrific crime.

Black Mask’s gang. A once prominent gang in Gotham city who survived fights between Batman and The Red Hood were all dead. Eviscerated. Slaughtered.

All of the dead were clinging onto weapons as either distinct claw marks either craved them to ribbons or they were killed by their own weapons. Whoever did it clearly attacked the ones who attacked first.

The only survivors were the ones who didn’t attempt to fight the assailant. Victor’s assistant was the only one that was harmed among them with a deep set of scratches on her face with a look of horror in her eyes.

A look Nightwing and Red Hood didn’t like to see even from a criminal.

“And you said you didn’t know why this happened?” Nightwing asks skeptical of the woman’s reliability.

The woman eagerly nods as she sputters out, “We caught her in the safe and Sionas wanted to teach her a lesson…we heard her reputation was only with stealing…not this…”

Jason growls as he grew inpatient with her stuttering, but he takes a deep breath. ‘Be Patient…’ He reminds himself before something made his ears perk up.

“It was like magic or something! Sionas shot her point blank in the head and she just came back to life in an instant!! That’s when she went crazy! We just wanted to get her back for stealing from our off shore accounts. We didn’t know that she was a…monster.”

Fuck.

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Fire. Fire is what it felt like. It crawls from the deepest part of her mind and spreads through her veins like a fever. Her vision tunneled in as memories of all her previous deaths haunting her brain surged forward as her body acted on instinct. Out of fear…

It took three days before the madness faded this time. That was probably the longest time she was trapped in that state since she escaped Waller. Those three days were a fog as she only remembered the splitting head ache from the gun shot and her costume covered in blood.

Once the new broke on a ‘maniac’ who killed the Black Mask’s gang, Y/N knew she couldn’t leave Gotham yet until the buzz died down. She already knew the Bat’s sidekicks were looking for her, so she used whatever cash she had left to hide out in a cheap motel room.

“Fuck….” She groans as her trembling hands dropped her cell phone. Her eyes tried to dart around the aisles of the gas station she was currently hunting for food in. The remaining madness caused her senses to be on high alert and her anxiety to be high.

If she was back home, she could hideout in her apartment with her cat for a month before finding another job listing, but she was trapped in Gotham in a ratty motel.

So venturing to the crummy gas station for some junk food and beer is the next best thing. At least the disinterested cashier doesn’t pay her any mind. 4am on a weekday with a case of beer probably made her just appear to be a normal tweaker.

(Y/N) adjusts her sunglasses and makes sure her silver hair was well hidden under her zip-up’s hood before she brings her items to the counter. The zit faced teen gives her a look over, not hiding the attention he gave to her exposed cleave from the tank top she had showing.

“Ma’am, we don’t allow sunglasses inside the store.” He creaks out. Her (E/C) roll as she takes her sun glasses off. The door chimes as someone enters the store, but her attention was focused on the cashier. When he finally scanned her beer, his cracking voice asks,

“Do you have ID, Ma’am?”

Her hands go to her sweatpants pocket and only feels the cash she brought. Her mental anguish grows as she sighs in annoyance. Her fake id was in motel, and she technically doesn’t exist so she never had a real id.

Deciding to turn up the charm, she smiles sweetly at the teenager as she says, “I’m sorry, but I left my id back at my place. I’m sure you can tell I’m old enough, right?”

Her cleavage seemed to not work its charm as the teen rudely says,

“I can tell you’re old by your hair lady. But I need ID.”

Her eyes widen as a faint glow of green shows as she snaps at him. “I’m not old! I’m 24, you little p-!”

She stops herself as she takes a deep breath as she feels the madness subsided. She really didn’t wanna kill a kid over some cheap beer.

“Fine…I had a bad day so just get me the snacks.” She admits in defeat as she pulls out a hundred bucks. Just as she was going to pay, a hand drops some beef jerky and a case of beer on the counter beside her items. A deep voice cuts the air and causes a shiver to crawl up her spine.

“Add her stuff and beer to my order.” A thick, veiny hand presents the cashier with his ID and a credit card as she turns her head to see who it was that saved her evening.

Before her was a man who stood well over 6 feet tall. His shoulders were as broad as an old oak tree with muscles strong enough to take one down. His face wasn’t particularly the normal standard for attractiveness, but the strong jaw and scar gave him a handsome roughness that made her stomach tighten. It didn’t help that his nearly buzzed hair gave him a military sense, but his eyes were what made her heart stop in her chest. The beautiful green eyes that glowed an unearthly hue that she was familiar with.

She sees it in her eyes everyday. The scar of the Lazarus pit.

(Y/N) almost forgot where she was before the cashier cleared his throat. Her focus returned back to the counter as she grabs her stuff. Before she could run off, something made her stop to wait for the man. Whether it was curiosity or stupidity, she didn’t know.

Maybe she wanted to see what his deal was? Was he with Waller? The League of Assassins? Can he tell she was from the pit too? How different were they? How many times did he die and come back?

The opportunity to speak with someone who may can relate to her outweighed her wariness from her situation. But it was curiosity that killed the cat, right?

As the man starts heading for the door, she follows as she says,

“Excuse me?”

His eyes meet hers as a small smile as he says,

“Hey, I’m sorry for stepping in over there. I understand when stuff isn’t going your way.”

A warmth takes over her face as she says shyly, “No, it’s fine I just wanted to thank you. That was really sweet of you…”

As the two walk out, the stranger's friendly demeanor drops a little as he mumbles into the empty night air.

"So, you're the one who killed Victor Sionas..."

Her breath releases as she hears the pin drop. Her eyes dart around the parking lot as she sees the only vehicle is a old school motorcycle. She doesn't have any weapons and she wasn't sure if how skilled he was or if he had gained powers just like her from the pit.

With a frown, (Y/N) gruffs out, "Yeah...what are you gonna let me enjoy my last beer before you turn me in?"

She looks up to the man as their eyes meet. His eyes studying her as she keeps a tight grip on her bag. Maybe if he charges at her, she can swing the bag to his head and throw him off...

"No." He answers simply as he heads towards his bike. Her eyes widen in disbelief as she sputters out.

"No? I just admitted to murder and you're letting me go??"

"Yep." He answers over his shoulder as he loads his things into the compartment under his seat. Irritation fills her being instead of the relief she should have felt. She stomps towards him as she fusses,

"What's your deal? You buy me a beer and casually ask me if I commit murder? And you're gonna just leave? Did the pit mess you up that bad??" She snaps at him as she stands face to face, face to chest with him. Her eyes glowed eerily as he was filled, and a familiar shiver went down his spine.

His hands clap onto her shoulders as he pulls her close to him. A wave of coldness filled her body as the eerie glow covered his hands. The familiar feeling of the Lazarus pit filled her as he leaned into a whisper.

"The only reason I'm not hauling your pretty ass to Arkham right now is because I understand that it wasn't you when you killed them, Kitty..." His eyes glowed momentarily as a sad look briefly flashed into those green pools. "A petty mercenary who had no history of mass murder on file doesn't just jump to it without warning. The Lazarus Pit fucks up people to their core, so trust me when I say that I understand better than anyone how you feel..."

'Understand? How can he understand?' Her mind unravels as she looks up at him in disbelief. Has he ever woke up afraid of what he might have done the night before? Worry about when someone would come and shoot him in the head or stab him just to see if he could come back without being submerged anymore? Did Waller use him to heal her at the expense of his own pain just to throw him away to fend for himself???

Rage flashes through her as she roughly pulls away from him. Her bag falls to the asphalt as glass shatters. Her eyes are wild as old memories filled her. "Don't you dare say you understand me? You don't know shit about what I had to go through?"

His eyebrows frown together as he grimaces. A look of recognition and guilt flashes before he says to her. "You're right. I don't know what you went through before you died, but I do understand how you're feeling. The anxiety, the rage, the blood lust...I wanna help you."

She laughs bitterly as she figures out something about him. He only died once and was brought back. The skunk stripe in his hair should have given it away when she realized he was similar to her.

"Which time?" (Y/N) asked as she turned around and walked away. "I've died plenty of times to know that you will never understand..."

And she leaves the man alone in the parking lot as she storms off to her motel, not caring if he sees where she went or not. Her heart was beating out of control as she felt the wavering thoughts of going back to him and either hitting him or hugging him.

‘Maybe I need to rest some more….’

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Silence filled the museum as the dust bunnies and art laid undisturbed during their rest from the public eye. Her footsteps were a minimum as she walked through the shadowy parts of the building, trying to find what she was sent to retrieve.

After another week of hiding out, a job was directly pinged for her on the job board. Her eyes squinted at it at first because the offer was a little bogus to her.

‘Steal a painting, retrieve the hard drive inside, and bring it to the disclosed location in exchange for 2 Million dollars in unmarked bills.’

2 Million for a petty thief job that would have more suited Catwoman instead her seemed pretty unusual. But, at this point, her phyiscal cash funds were running low and she still was afraid of using her offshore accounts now that she knows that some zombie like her knew who she was.

Her masked eyes scanned the building’s plaza until she found what she was looking for. A large flowery portrait hanging just beyond the fountain. Her head tilts as she looks at it from afar.

‘Pretty… I wonder if I can find a print of it to buy to hang in my living room…’ Her steps remaining slow and cautious until she reaches the fountain. She looks under where the painting hung, trying not to get too close to it. There was no tag or podium that held the artist’s name or any indication that it was an actual art piece. It was most likely some print from a furniture store catalog or Etsy.

Her eyes rolled as she realizes that the listing was another trap. Obviously from someone who didn’t know shit about art or how to buy mercenaries on the black market.

As if on que, her ears buzzed as she heard the pure instinct take over as she whips around. Her hand immediately stops the staff about to hit her in the face as she elbows the smaller opponent in the stomach before slamming her fist in his cheek to knock him back. The guy gets thrown back a couple of feet as he gasped for the air she punches outta him.

She looks to the guy as she twirls his staff absent mindedly in her hand. His costume and smaller physique gave it away as to who he was. She remembers seeing a tv show story about him the previous night on the news. The boy wonder, Robin. At least the third version of him.

“Hey, tweety bird. You good?” She asked in a nonchalant tone. Her eyes unamused as she watches the kid cough up a lung as he looked up at her in shock that she wasn’t attacking him like he expected her to.

“You know, it’s dangerous to be on job listing boards like that.” She scolds him lightly as she walks around him and grabs his arm, gently helping him up and sitting him by the fountain. “There’s actual killers on that board who would have happily tried cutting you up for pulling a shitty fake job like this.”

The sidekick glares at her as he was already confused as he just witness the girl he was sure killed an entire gang just casually scold him. “Like how you did with Black Mask?”

Her eyes flashed with guilt before the nonchalant personality appeared again as she focused on throwing the staff up to make it spin. “It was self defense. He and his gang had it coming for all the child drug peddling and the lives he ruined.”

A heavier drop down of three other figures caught her attention as she looks around. Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Hood were surrounding the fountain, blocking her in. Her anxiety rising as she hides it with a now playful smile.

“Damn, didn’t realize little old me warranted for the whole family to come get me.” She says playfully. “Don’t worry I promise to be out of y’all’s city soon.”

“You still have to pay for your crimes.” Batgirl says as she steps forwards slightly. The feline mercenary tilts her head as she looks at them with now false concern.

“Me? A defenseless street cat?” She asked before laughing. “You can certainly try.”

Nightwing steps closer as her shoulders square up. Her defensive stance rising as she observes him. Way too lean to be the guy she met, and she can tell his face was more pretty boy looking.

“We wanna help you… but you still have to pay for what you’ve done even if you didn’t mean to.” He says softly.

‘So they know…that just means they are gonna be more defensive instead of offensive. They can’t risk killing me when they know I could rampage again.’ Her eyes shine as she laughs coldly at him.

“Oh, you wanna help me rot in prison?” She says as she finally looks at the Red Hood.

Right build, right height, and she’s sure if she can knock that helmet off, right face. That’s the man she met a week ago that affected her so badly. She knew she couldn’t let him get a good grab on her or she maybe toast.

She turns her now glowing eyes back to Nightwing as she smirks. “I think you would be better off letting me leave or else you can see what I actually do when I mean it.” She bluffs.

Movement nearly catches her off guard as Robin tries to rush her again. The staff in her hand flies into his face as she tries to move as Batgirl flies kicks her in the face. Her ears ring as the warm feeling of blood starts to run out of her nose. The cat catches the bat’s fist before she whips her in the face with another punch. She used the disorienting blow to slide under her legs and give a good kick to her knee. The distinctive pop and her cry lets her know she did dislocate the bone.

She remains in her crouched up position, ready to pounce. She can feel their eyes observing as her broken nose begins to heal as it disgustingly pops back into place as the blood retreats back to its original place like it was on rewind. Her wild eyes looks to them and makes notes of their stances.

Nightwing was ready to pounce on her. He stared at her like she was the wild animal that he knew she was. It was a look she was used to.

The Red Hood wasn’t even in an offensive or defensive position. He stood with his back straight as he watches her. Damn his stupid helmet from seeing his eyes, she wanted to know what he was thinking about. Was he bluffing too or was he trying to get a good feel on how to catch her.

Before Nightwing can start advancing on her, Red stops him with a step forward and raises hand. Nightwing looks confused as he asked him.

“What are you doing?” He seethes to him. “We gotta take her down, she already hurt Robin and Batgirl.”

“Out of self defense.” The Red Hood clarifies before chuckling. His modulated voice making the feline theft frown. “If she was dangerous like you think, she could have sliced Robin’s throat with those claws of hers when he first attacked. You guys were attacking first and she responded with non lethal force.”

Her eyes glared at the man as she stands up, slightly agitated. “So? Maybe I just don’t wanna kill a kid?”

Red tilts his head as he turns his attention to her. “Calm down, Kitty….if you surrender, I promise I won’t let them send you off to the pound.”

Nightwing looks at Red in horror as he basically promised to protect a wanted criminal. He didn’t seem to concerned by it. He even surprises his team by removing his helmet as he looks to the one they were chasing.

“I found your file on Amanda Waller’s network. Took me three days, but I know what she did to you, (Y/N).” The man she knew from the gas station.

The images of all the torture she endured flashed through her mind all at once as she remembers all Waller put her through for the sake of her cure.

Multiple executions to test the powers of the pit. Torture and savage punishments for the slightest disobedience. The nightmares and madness that fueled so many panic attacks. The feeling of her organs stolen to be put in that evil woman so she can use her healing factor to win against cancer while she spent days slowly dying and coming back to life over and over until her new organs regenerated back into her.

“Why?!” She snaps at him as rage filled her again. Her confusion over his insistence to help her made her so angry. Why would he wanna help her? Just because they were both dunked in a pool of Ra’s bath water?

“You’re the feared Red Hood! You’ve done worst shit than I’ve ever done and you are trying to act as my savior?!” She yells at him as she stomps towards him.

Nightwing tries to step between them, but Red keeps him away as she finally stood before him. Her hand rips off her goggles, revealing her face to him as she pokes into his chest. Her own chest tightening as her body shook. Her breath was tight as angry tears rolled down her face.

“Answer me, dammit! Why do you think you can save me?!”

“I don’t think I can save you.” He answers honestly. “I wanna help you save yourself…”

A look of grief passes over his eyes as he looks at the shorter woman. A memory of someone she didn’t know making his resolve strengthen.

“I was trapped in a state of anger for so long that I pushed everyone away that was trying to help me…it wasn’t until I lost the one person that tried to save me that I realized how much it meant to have someone just hold a hand out for me…” He says as he grips her shoulders. The expected coldness didn’t meet her. She felt him. The warmth seeping through his gloves into her suit. It felt…comforting….nice.

Her vision began tunneling as she felt her chest hyperventilating as she cries. His gentle words finally breaking her as he mumbles to her. “Let me help you fight the madness so you won’t be alone anymore…”

Her knees buckling as a sob broke through her. The warmth of his arms wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest made her cries so gut wrenching. Robin, Batgirl, and Nightwing watch in shock as they watched Jason, not only be the most gentle he’s ever been with someone, but see a stray tear fall from him eye.

As the two remained tied together as an unspoken bond was formed. A bond between two lost souls forcibly brought back into this world now feeling safe in each other’s warmth.

+++++++++++++++++++

Author’s Note: I’m gonna make a part 2 to this one because I actually like it. Let me know if you like this, if you hate it, or whatever. I’m trying to clear out my drafts so expect more Jason and other characters coming out either this week or next week.

++++++++++++++++++++

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE COPYING, STEALING, OR REPOSTING OF MY FANFICS ON OTHER WEBSITES WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for putting a hit out on an ex friend’s dnd character?

A few years ago I [M 18] was the link between two different online friend circles along with my longtime friend A [M 22]. Essentially, both A and I ran two different dnd campaigns that acted as a melting pot between our two friend groups. It was really fun, super casual stuff. Enter C [M 19], who was originally one of my friends and played in both groups. Over time it became clear that C was, to put it lightly, not a great person. At the time, I was a really new DM and struggled a lot with my self confidence. C was a super disruptive player in my group, going off the rails and generally trying to undermine both me and other players. I tried to sort it out between sessions, but it didn’t end up working out. It came to a head where I ended up shutting down my campaign, claiming school got to be too much, but in reality I just couldn’t deal with C’s behaviour. It was a really big blow to my self confidence at the time.

At this point a lot of people had been cutting out C for various other things like this - generally being disrespectful and callous, not taking responsibility for harm he caused, etc. Pretty soon the only times I was interacting with C directly was during A’s campaign.

A, who wasn’t 100% aware of the situation, came and talked to me after a session one day about why I’d shut down my campaign, and I told him everything about how I was feeling. He was really understanding, and said that he got the feeling that I probably didn’t want C around anymore, and neither did he. I agreed, so A offered to ‘sort out some stuff with C’s character’ and shuffle him out of the group. I made a joke about wanting C’s character to die, in a pretty flippant way, and the conversation diverted.

This is where things get kind of weird.

So, at the time, I was expecting A to just talk with C and kick him out of the group in between sessions, but that didn’t end up happening. C was at the next session just as planned, and continued to show up for several weeks. During this time A, and I really don’t know how else to describe this, pulled some Machiavellian scheme on C’s character as the DM to ruin his life. A wove in this story where C’s character got this evil mask shard of a dead god, and played on C’s want to sabotage other players & go his own way in a very ‘lone rogue’ way to isolate him from the group and get him involved in all these evil deeds (killing minor npcs, etc). None of our characters knew about this in character, but A dropped all these hints and the context lined up to make it seem like C’s character was slowly going insane. C, unable to communicate in or out of character, backed up this idea by refusing to talk about the god IC or OOC. Eventually this god fragment lead to the death of C’s character when an overpowered assassin struck him down, in a fight that felt very ‘well this could’ve been a party boss but because you didn’t tell anyone, you died’. Immediately following this the party found out about C’s character’s evil deeds, meaning he wouldn’t be mourned by the party. The whole death felt so… hollow. It really felt like C had ended up in this situation because of their own hubris. But they hadn’t.

A had masterminded the whole thing. He’d given me live updates about his plan to essentially manufacture a situation where C’s character died a miserable death that felt totally deserved in the eyes of the other party members. And then we all just blocked C anyway???

I’ve never seen someone manipulate somebody like that in my life before and I’ve never seen anything like it again. I’ve never told anyone else in the group that the death was masterminded by A because of my petty grudge about my failed campaign. I don’t speak to either A or C now but I still feel bad about not doing something. Should I have just told A to kick C way before this?? I had no clue it would spiral into actual months of chess mastering his demise!!

What are these acronyms?

[envysparkler]

hugs

It’s not that nobody else’s hugs are good.  Dick is the master of cuddling, Cass always knows when to go for a hug and when to back off, and Damian’s hugs are the most adorable thing in the world.  Tim does hugs like he thinks they’ll disappear if he doesn’t grip tight enough, Steph hugs like she’s trying to break ribs, and Bruce, as always, is warmth and love and home.

But.  But a Jason Todd Hug is special.

Jason is still prickly, still determinedly straddling the line between outsider and family no matter how many people want to pull him back, and he rarely ever attends the family dinners or parties or any get-together when he’s not in the mask.

But sometimes he forgets, forgets that he’s pretending not to be their brother, forgets that he’s keeping them at arm’s length.  Sometimes he wraps his arms around them – easily, because he grew up to be the tallest, grew up the most like Bruce – and envelops them in warmth and leather and gun oil and protection.

A Jason Todd Hug is special because it means he cares.  Because it feels like a victory.  Because it feels like family, like returning home after a long vacation, like sleeping in their own bed and knowing that nothing will ever get them.

Nobody makes the colossal mistake of daring to say this out loud, lest they get cut off forever.

Until Damian squirms out of Dick’s grasp and snaps, “You’re not Todd, you can’t hug me.”

Dick’s mind goes blank.  Tim, on the Batcomputer, stops typing.  Steph pokes her head out of the medbay, eyes wide.

Dick recovers and then immediately scans the Cave.  No Jason in sight, thank god.

“You can’t just say things like that, Dami,” Dick hisses, “Do you want him to sulk and never come back here again?”

“You’ve gotten a Jason Todd Hug?” Steph asks, eyes wide and betrayed, “How?  How did the baby assassin get a hug?  I’ve been trying for months!”

“You’ve been trying to get a hug from Jason?” Tim blinks at her, while Dick mouths ‘months?’.

“Sure, after I saw you practically melt into it,” Steph says, pouting, “You never do that with Dick’s hugs.  I thought it must be something special.”

“That’s because you never encourage Dick, he will hold on and never let go,” Tim says, eyes dark as he grumbles over his coffee.  Dick magnanimously chooses to ignore that statement.

“It isn’t that difficult,” Dick smiles at her, “Either you go for the ‘looking pathetic’ route, or you ambush him.”

Steph looks like she wants to take notes.  Damian huffs, “Who made you the expert on Todd’s hugs?”

“Well, I get the most hugs, so I should be the expert,” Dick explains reasonably.

Damian and Tim eye him speculatively.  Oops.

“Care for a friendly wager?” Tim asks with a shark smile.

That’s when the whiteboard goes up.

Steph’s in favor of writing ‘Jason Todd Hugs’ on it, but Dick convinces her to keep it to initials because if Jason ever finds out, the competition will be over permanently.  They all add their names to the list.

“Alright, any time anyone gets a hug, we add a tally mark,” Dick says, “No maiming, bribery, or blackmail allowed.”  Standard rules.

“When do we end the competition?” Tim asks.

Dick frowns.  If Jason’s in a Mood then it might be weeks before anyone gets a hug from him, and he wants this to be fair.  To give the munchkins a chance.

“First to ten?” Steph suggests.

“Sounds good,” Dick agrees, “Though if we’re getting Jason’s hugs, we’re already winners.”

They all shake on it, and the whiteboard goes up near a board of other miscellaneous stuff, not hidden but definitely out of visible line of sight for anyone who enters the Cave through the garage entrance and spends only five minutes before leaving again.

~#~

C is added to the list of participants the next day, without any notice or explanation.

~#~

There is a little scribble of a bat on the whiteboard by the end of the week.  There is also a W squeezed in between the T and H in the title.

The competitors look at each other across the Cave and nod.  The battle is on.

~#~

Cass is the first one who gets on the scoreboard, mainly because she drops in on top of Jason on one of his rare visits to the Cave.

Jason was arguing with Bruce, his jaw tightening, his expression shifting from irritation to frustration when the Black Bat drops from the rigging and knocks him flat against the mats.

Jason stares up at her, bewildered.  “Did you fall?” he asks.  Cass widens her eyes in lieu of outright lying, and flops on top of him.  Jason automatically wraps his arms around her and she relaxes into the hug.

“You should be more careful,” he says quietly.

Cass hums, and lets her head rest against the thump-thump of his heartbeat.

When Jason has left, motorcycle roaring away, she takes the marker and draws a single line below the C.

Tim shoots her a dirty look.

~#~

“It’s not fair,” Tim glowers at Dick, hair half-sticking up on one side, as Dick dramatically and pointedly adds another tally to his score, bringing it up to four.

Jason nearly stabbed him, but it’s worth it.

“I gave you my secrets, baby bird,” Dick laughs, “What more do you want?”

“You and Cass just.  Attack him with hugs,” Tim waves his hands to make his point, “That’s not fair!”

“You could attack him with hugs too,” Dick points out.

Tim gives him a flat look.  “Somehow I have a feeling that won’t go over well.”

Dick shrugs, hiding his smirk.  “That sounds like a you problem.”

~#~

He notices it on a visit to the Cave, a whiteboard that’s clearly a new addition, emblazoned with JTWH in Dick’s handwriting.  The W is smaller than the rest, like it was squeezed in after.

Underneath it is a long line of initials with tally marks underneath.  D, T, DW, S, C, and a little stylized bat.  The whole gang.  (Except him.)

Dick is clearly winning, with five tallies under his name, though someone seems to have scrawled in ‘cheater’ underneath those.  Cass is in second place with three, Replacement and Batgirl have tied for third with two, Babs has one, and Damian has a half for some reason.  Bruce, he’s happy to see, is losing.

He doesn’t mention it.  He’s distracted by the case they’re working on, and then by patrol, and by the time he remembers it, he’s irritable and sleep-deprived and bitter enough that the idea that they left him out of their competition fits right at home with his aching heart.

~#~

“What’s JTWH?” he asks, because the whiteboard is in his line of sight and it never stopped bothering him.  Jason tries to keep his voice casual, tries to not ruin the pleasant mood in the Cave, but his next words are a little too sharp.  “And why am I not on the scoreboard?”

Everyone goes silent in a way that’d be freaky if they weren’t all piled on top of him.  He can practically hear the looks being exchanged around him.

“What, afraid I was going to smoke all of you at your competition?” Jason asks.  More looks.  Jason tenses, waiting for it – the ‘you said you’re not part of this family’ and ‘you never asked’ and ‘we forgot’.

“You are,” Cass says simply, patting his head.

“I am what?”

“On board.”

Jason squints at the whiteboard.  Nope, he can’t see his name on it.  “No, I’m not.  And no one told me about any competition either.”

“Silly goose,” Cass says, which has become her favorite phrase ever since Bruce used it once, “You are.  Top.”

Jason frowns, because he still doesn’t – JTWH.  Oh.

“And what do the rest of the letters stand for?” Jason grumbles, wondering what they’re tracking.  How many days since he killed someone.  How many days since he’s threatened them.  How many times he’s yelled at them.  “Jason Todd Was Here?  Jason Todd Water Hose?  Jason Todd –”

“Wayne,” Bruce says quietly from next to him.  “Jason Todd-Wayne.”

Jason swallows.  He can’t quite look at Bruce.  “What does the H stand for?”

Everyone gives each other shifty looks.

“Oh, wow, that bad, huh.”

“Hugs,” Steph rolls her eyes, “Jason Todd-Wayne Hugs.  So, no, actually, you can’t win, because you can’t give yourself a hug.”

Jason blinks at her.

“Steph,” Tim whines from somewhere near his elbow.

“I said that no one was allowed to tell,” Dick sighs, “I said it explicitly.  I warned you all.”

“Tt.  If the competition ends because of you, Brown, I will take my vengeance.”  Damian’s grip tightens on Jason’s leg.

“Well, it was either the truth or whatever his imagination was coming up with,” Steph shrugs.  She’s looking at him like he’s going to disappear.

“Wait,” Jason croaks, because he lost the thread of this conversation somewhere, “You’ve been having a competition…over hugs?”

“Over your hugs.”

[zephyr-ro-emenki]

Random Batfam Headcanon's #17:

The reason Ra's Al Ghul has a rule in place that only a male can be his heir, is not because he's sexist, it's because strangely enough, every female in his bloodline is really emotional, like, a concerningly high amount of emotional breakdowns and overall girl failures. And Thalia, counter to popular belief, is actually Really fucking emotional. Like, she's a very good actress, able to hold up the mask of "Immortal seductress assassin who has seen more than your showing and is not impressed."

But once she's behind closed and private doors, she's a blushing Anemic mess because she accidentally saw a guys nipple.

The duality of Thalia is extremely break neck.

_______________________________________________

Thalia (in public): "My dear boys shall never fail to impress me. Train well, and you shall always be rewarded."

Damian: "As always Mother."

Jason: "Thank you for the compliment... Mom..."

Thalia:

Thalia: "Keep up the good work."

Thalia (now behind closed doors):

Thalia, now collapsed on her knees with emotional tears running down her face and a wide smile: "HE CALLED ME MOM!!!"

_______________________________________________

Ra's: "...Daughter, why are you crying this time?"

Thalia, full ugly cry: "wHy Do ThE bAbY gOaTs HaVe To Be So ADORABLE?!?!?! "

Ra's: 😮‍💨

_______________________________________________

Bruce, Finding Thalia crying for the first time in Wayne Manor: "Thalia?! What's wrong?!?!"

Thalia: "T-th-they... I-in C-C-Cincinnati, The-they... ThEy ShOt A GORILLA! tHeY kiLLeD HiM bRuCe!! HiS nAmE wAs HaRaMbE aNd He DiD nOtHiNg WrOnG!!! hE wAs JuSt a CuRiOuS cReAtUrE wHo WaNtEd To MaKe a NeW fRiEnD wItH a KiD wHo FeLL into HiS eNcLoSuRe!!! WHY?!?! WhY dId He NeEd To DIE?!?!?! WhEn I FiNd WhO sHoT HiM, I'm gOnNa KILL THEM!!!"

Bruce:

Alfred: "Might I interest you in a tissue, my lady?"

Thalia: "ThAnK yOu..."

[sarkos]

NBC News reported that law enforcement is banking on the American public helping them identify the man seen in new photos released this week, which show the alleged assassin lowering his mask while flirting with a hostel concierge. Those are currently the only photos of the alleged killer in which his mask isn't concealing his face, and law enforcement veterans have called them a "turning point" in the investigation. But Savannah Sparks — who has 1.3 million TikTok followers and is known for helping track down perpetrators of racist and hateful attacks — was unequivocal in her refusal to help find Thompson's murderer. Thompson told NBC she was "pretty apathetic" about the ongoing manhunt, and that her impression of the online sleuthing community's current mood was: "[C]oncepts of thoughts and prayers." "It’s, you know, claim denied on my prayers there," Sparks said, with a tongue-in-cheek reference to health insurance industry lingo.ccording to NBC, Sparks (who holds a doctorate of pharmacy and works in the healthcare industry as a lactation consultant) has been called on by law enforcement in the past to assist with training officers on how to track down suspects online. But she said that in this particular case, she has zero interest in helping the NYPD.

'Claim denied': Internet sleuths deny NYPD request to hunt down insurance CEO' killer - Raw Story

[akairawrites]

Cats Out The Bag | Damian Wayne Imagine

Curiosity Killed The Cat part 2

Taglist

@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @luvvvjada @harleycao @aiq39 @lumineliax @420sprite @stvrfir3 @instabull @rukia-uchiha-98 @1lellykins @lilupie @deliciousfatblackcat @skyesayshi @imarimone12 @mysticalhills @4arancia @bat-h-tic @luvelyxp @urmomsbananabread @elebeleb @strawberrycreamb @princessofhope0 @itisjustagirl @dollceesstuff @just-reading-dany @Ginger24880 @godknows-shetried @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @kierancaz @Crystals-faith @cascadingbliss

You could feel the cool night breeze against your cheeks as you gracefully leaped through the air. It was a tranquil night in Gotham, the perfect backdrop for criminal activities.

Upon descending from the side of the building, you headed toward the front entrance. Naturally, the door was locked. You reached for a bobby pin from your hair and crouched down to examine the lock. Inserting the pin, you heard a satisfying click as the door unlocked. A self-satisfied smile crossed your face as you returned the bobby pin to its place. Inside, you inhaled deeply and exhaled, a smirk forming as you dropped your duffel bag. Rifling through it, you retrieved a homemade C-4 like device. With practiced ease, you entered a password on the screen and affixed it to the wall near the safety deposit boxes. After a few seconds, the device beeped, and the boxes popped open with a hiss. Your first-time trial was a success, and you couldn't help but smile.

Swiftly, you went through almost every box, finding mostly deeds and divorce papers. Fortunately, you stumbled upon some jewelry, and someone even carelessly stashed a wad of cash inside, which you promptly pocketed.

Once your bag was stuffed, you exited the building unnoticed. Scaling the side of the building, you reached the rooftop to survey your surroundings, ensuring no heroic intervention was imminent. As you counted the money you had collected, a pair of feet landed behind you. You sighed in annoyance and slowly turned around, still clutching the cash.

To your surprise, it was Robin.

A few years back, after robbing a jewelry store, Selina had persuaded you to take a break from a life of crime, deeming it too perilous and unpredictable. Only recently had she allowed you to return to your illicit activities. You took a moment to observe him, noticing his increased muscularity and shorter hair. With his mask on, he would be unrecognizable anyway. "You got taller," were your initial words.

Little did you know that Damian was scrutinizing you as well. The last time he'd seen you, he was just 14 years old. Normally, he wouldn't care much about his adversaries, let alone think about them as much as he did about you. Even though you had bested him the first and only time you'd crossed paths, he couldn't help but think about you.

"And you got curvier," Damian blurted out, unable to prevent the words from escaping his mouth. He mentally scolded himself for succumbing to his intrusive thoughts.

You gave him a quizzical look, unsure if he was attempting to flirt with you. He didn't strike you as the flirting type. Shaking your head, you slapped the cash against your palm and rocked on your heels. Slipping the money into your bag, you slung it over your shoulder. "Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I gotta go." You turned to walk in the opposite direction, but a force struck you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground, landing on your stomach with your chin scraping against the pavement. You groaned and rolled over, just as Damian unsheathed his sword in a graceful forward roll.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to hit a girl?" you taunted.

"No, she threw me into the League of Assassins, where I was trained to be a cold-blooded killer," Damian replied.

Damn.

Damian rushed toward you, his sword slicing through the air. Swiftly, you rolled out of the way, but he managed to slice open your bag instead. You stood up as he charged at you again, the absence of your bag making the fight a fairer match. You assumed it would be easier to defeat him this time, just as you had when you first faced off.

As you prepared to throw a punch, Damian seized your wrist and struck your elbow, simultaneously sweeping your leg from under you. You crashed to the ground, landing hard on your back and knocking the wind out of you. He threw away his sword and grabbed you by the collar of your suit, cocking his fist back and delivering a punch to your face. The ringing in your ears intensified as the blows continued.

Foolishly underestimating Damian, you realized he was much stronger than he had been four years ago. He was giving his all, determined not to stop until you were defeated. Gathering enough energy, you managed to kick him off you. As you wiped your nose, feeling the blood trickling from your lips, you stood up, reminding yourself that you were not your mother.

You landed a few punches, but Damian's strength remained a significant advantage. He kicked you in the stomach, causing you to tumble toward the edge of the building. He slowly approached you, grabbing you by the hair to lift your head off the ground. He surveyed your bloodied and battered face, sighing as if regretting what he was about to do. With nothing left in you to fight back, you braced yourself as he delivered a final blow that sent you over the side of the building, hurtling towards the ground.

⋆

You clutched your book tightly to your chest as you navigated the bustling hallway. Skillfully, you maneuvered past the people blocking your path, making your way to your locker. After shoving your books inside, you retrieved the ones needed for your next class. However, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone's intense gaze was fixed on the side of your head. You glanced to your left and found yourself locking eyes with a pair of piercing green ones. Damian stood only a few feet away, next to his own locker. You let out a resigned sigh, anticipating that he might deliver another one of his lectures.

A few weeks ago, Damian had been assigned as your tutor for the rest of the year, given your struggle to keep up with your classes due to frequent absences. Neither of you had welcomed this arrangement, but your slipping grades left you with no choice but to accept help, even if it meant being tutored by the most arrogant person you'd ever encountered.

As Damian approached, you couldn't help but speak up, "What do you want, Damian?"

"I want you to meet me at my dorm once classes are over," he stated, his tone more commanding than inquisitive. You arched an eyebrow and closed your locker. "For what? We don't have anything scheduled for today."

He merely sighed. "I just need to have a word with you," he said and walked past you without further explanation. Your eyes tracked his retreating figure as he disappeared down the hall. You couldn't help but mutter, "Who does he think he is?"

After the school day ended, you complied with his request and made your way to Damian's dorm. You knocked and waited for a few moments, unsure of the reason behind this unusual request. Damian seldom engaged with you outside of tutoring, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with you ever since you'd punched him in the face.

Once Damian finally came to the door, he said nothing when he saw it was you. He just stepped out of the way, allowing you to enter. You walked into the small dorm room, which was plain but tidy. The walls lacked decorations, reminiscent of how your dorm looked when you first moved in. Damian's tie and blazer lay discarded on his neatly made bed, leaving him in his half-buttoned dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” you asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, being careful not to disrupt the bedding.

Last week, when Damian came to your dorm to study, his eyes caught sight of something on your nightstand—an emerald green necklace that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes. It had looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. A few days ago, it finally clicked in his head where he had seen it before. Too much evidence pointed to you being someone he desperately did not want you to be. He would never admit it, but you were growing on him, and he secretly enjoyed your company. To confirm his suspicions, he needed one more piece of evidence.

"Let me see your hand," Damian abruptly requested.

"What?"

"Your hand, let me see it." Without waiting for your response, he took hold of your hand and examined your palm. He noticed a scar running diagonally across it, he remembered when you came to school with it bandaged up. You had told people it resulted from a kitchen accident, but he knew the truth. Damian was piecing everything together like a puzzle. It would explain why he often caught you sneaking into the dorms late at night, as well as why you were frequently late to class and tutoring.

It was you.

He just couldn't figure out how you were alive. He had believed he killed you. His heart ached at the thought.

You watched as Damian traced the scar on your hand with his thumb, his touch sending a tingly sensation through your skin.

"Damian...?" Your voice came out softer than intended. When he heard his name, he looked up at you, his eyes conveying a mixture of fear and regret, emotions you never thought you'd see from him.

"I know," he simply stated.

Confused, you shook your head. "You know what?"

And then it clicked. He KNEW. Why else would he be so interested in your scar? You thought you had done a good job of keeping it hidden. In fact, you had done a good job. The only way he would know was if he had been there.

You withdrew your hand from his. "You're Robin?" You didn't receive an immediate response, which confirmed your suspicion. You sighed, unsure if you should be upset or not. After all, it's not as if the two of you were best friends who had promised never to lie to each other. You did feel somewhat guilty for beating him up, but he had almost killed you in return.

"I'm sorry," he finally admitted, looking away, as if he couldn't bear to make eye contact while apologizing. It was a momentary lapse of his ego.

"Damian Wayne apologizing?" you said, a smug grin on your face.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."

You laughed and playfully nudged him. You noticed a small smirk tugging at his lips, and it made your own smile grow wider.

Surprisingly, you both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Damian decided to break it.

"How did you survive that fall anyway?" he asked.

You chuckled. "No one told you? I'm like a cat, Damian. I have nine lives."

If you couldn’t tell I tried to avoid having to come up with a alias for Y/N…anyway,

Add yourself to my taglist here

[egyptroyal]

"Happy Halloween." (To the 11-13 doctors. Will be away most of the day on Halloween)

"Happy Halloween!"

[egyptroyal]

The Doctor didn't get it. Didn't get why Vin would react that way. They never heard his question to Kira. Never felt it. Never heard a response back. Definitely didn't understand why Vin recoil in disgust from them. They couldn't feel how it was affecting Kira so, surely Vin couldn't either... right?

Then again, the Doctor remembered that Vin's bond wasn't fully Gallifreyan in nature. He had two versus their one. What were they called? Nyintiran? Nyintiran and Gallifreyan. With Gallifreyans, they don't feel the bond unless they're in a certain radius with whoever. Nyintirans, from how the Doctor was witnessing in real time by Vin's reaction, felt everything their partner felt.

Every. Single. Thing. If their partner felt disgust, Vin would feel it. Hatred, sadness, happiness, numbness, morning sickness, drunkenness: a shared emotion and physical ailments by two.

Not to be confused with empathy.

And then another thought: The Doctor never bonded with Vin. The kids they shared was only Gallifreyan so it was only Gallifreyan ties to her. They never got to share what she also felt. They were upset because she was being physically affected - the only problem was that Vin was also being physically affected. They could see Vin's jaw clinch when the Doctor presumed that Kira spoke back - the way one does when trying not to throw up.

Wrong move. Good to know.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." Rose barreled past the Doctor, her Doctor never letting go of her hand while she grabbed Vin arm with her free hand. She was running, yanking Vin along.

She didn't know what Vin said but, could see how he looked before she dragged him along. There was a look in his eye. She didn't know or wanted to know what he was going to do but, it didn't give a feeling that she should fear for Kira. It was something shifting inside them.

But, that was later.

She threw Vin into his TARDIS - thank god they landed beside the Doctor's TARDIS - and the doors were open. Without him even touching the controls, his ship left Rose and her Doctor behind.

"And before you say it, blondie, no, we're fucking not." Rose's Doctor shot out while grabbing The Doctor's hand with his own free hand. He knew enough of the personal situation between the two aliens based on what Rose told him which he boiled down to: none of my fucking business but, they should just leave. Hit the bricks, as it were. This was all a bit rancid. And thats just what? After four pieces of speaking in basic sentences? Listening to Vin's rant, hearing the vibe of this Doctor's apology? Knowing that this Doctor would've wanted to sweep it under the rug and focus on confronting the alien that trapped them in there, almost blowing them up?

Nah, fuck that. Plus, he could feel his mobile vibrate in his back pocket - a custom themed vibration - knowing that his and Rose's Kira back home felt what blondie gave and is texting back a slew of what the fucks and who is thats and why am i involved what are yall doing and ew emoticons. And if he felt it, Rose felt it too.

And then, he minded his fucking business.

The Doctor ran, feeling the other Doctor essentially throwing them in their TARDIS. The TARDIS doors swinging open before she could crash into the doors. Like a ragdoll being slingshot. Those doors shut close hard, leaving the Doctor alone once more.

"Oh, what the hell did I do that for?" Smacking their forehead. A switch went down on the console, making the Doctor leave the couple behind.

Rose and her Doctor used the Cannon, running before fading away like mirages. Not their circus, not their clowns.

@girl-in-the-tardis @gallifreylegacy @egyptroyal @drbabygirl because they are mentioned

"Is that all there is? That's it? And it–"

Vin's face dropped as his bewildered anger cracked into sadness at what was being said. He turned to the Doctor - well, Doctors - as it was RMT's Doctor and The Doctor present with them all.

"Even after all that, after everything and you all would toss it for someone that would rather ab—"

He was dejected, stopping what he was saying almost as if he was giving up. Was this what Poison Ivy felt like when talking to Harley Quinn back then in the cartoons? Was this how Dr. Jones felt?

His eyes casted down and then Vin did something that was usually asked or begged or asked in a way to brush past the casual disgust when he would come back from a 'hunt': he left. He stopped fighting.

His shoulders slumped, relaxed, the look across his distraught face never changing. Oh, the bond was fixed but it was fixed in a way that removed him almost completely. They shut him out. So, his bond shut them out.

Thing about aliens and the bonds they forge: you never know when a bond gains their own sentience. Can't stop it. To stop it is to be aware of it and Vin was not aware of it.

It didn't feel like a hug or someone holding another's hand - it felt like fingertips touching another's fingertips. Barely, like reaching for someone and you almost have their hand if you can just stretch just a little more.

Just a little more.

A little more.

More.

It was felt for all except for him. Not a weight being lifted for the others but just how heavy the bond was truly was from him in addition to the Doctor's.

How Vin held the bond together - it was as if Vin was their M50 protective mask before and now he was essentially a sheer cloth. He couldn't protect them. The truth was too horrible. Sure, they could ignore it or - what was it RMT called it? Glitch? - Glitch themselves into it but the truth?

The truth that they were all dead, that this wasn't how it was at all. That the one they called father by birth was never their father, never her husband because they never existed. He never existed. Never will. They can bleed in here and there through other people by other people but it will never be what they are.

Dead was kinder than never existed based on a whim after watching or reading or listening to a story of the Doctor's autobiography recontexualized as fiction. And Vin was coming to this conclusion in real time.

Was this how Jennifer felt? No, Jennifer embraced it. Embraced not being real. But, Jennifer wasn't here. V's friend wasn't here. His eyes searched and searched. He could feel his left hand scrunch and wring reality like it was the clothes off his back. Feel the soft fabric of reality that should have been asphalt and concrete and metal but was instead a nice velvet.

He clung and then he let go. The air was still the same, the ground the same, as if he didn't feel reality in his hand a minute ago.

And then he turned and his eyes locked onto the Doctor's and saw them. Something that no matter what type of human they were, none could see. He saw every single Doctor in their eyes. Every Doctor that was just another imitation of the original. Every Doctor that will never be The Doctor. The Doctor that will never have their Kira. Well, they had a Kira Arlo from the Kerblam factory but, not their Kira Tyler-Williams. That Doctor will never have V, never have a Vin or his family. Never will. But the imitations of the Doctor? Those gone and those present and those that will be, they will.

And a well known open knowledge that this Doctor, that Doctor, was always just a footnote in Vin's existence. A cane's rubber bottom. Easily replaced with a tennis ball.

Another alien's glitch is another alien princess' happiness. A bond's comfort to its' maker.

"I'm going to go get a massage and mani pedi. Maybe get a sauna treatment." Vin found himself saying, turning back around.

He had dropped the argument. Why argue when everyone around you, including yourself, including the imitation of a time lord that they never will truly be, never existed? That horrible truth. None of it will matter.

Confetti.

[daylite-writes]

“Do Your Worst” - Capitano x fem!traitor!reader

You were a spy for your homeland placed high up in the Fatui command, until you were outed as such. Now, you face the man who’s heart you stole.

cw: mild violence for the sake of information, implied previous relationship, not the healthiest relationship, prisoners of war.

~~~

You whined under your breath as his shadow covered, as his hand brushed through her hair. You were a prisoner of war. This was war. The brutality, all of it. If only it hurt, if only it wasn’t soft and sweet.

“C-Cap…” you cough out once.

“Quiet.” He said simply.

Slowly he peeled away your sweat and blood soaked armor, leaving you bloodied and unprotected.

You heard the slosh of water. As the Captain soaked a washcloth, rung it out, and began to clean the dirt and blood from your skin. The ragged cloth brushed over bruises, circling over your ribs, your spine. You said nothing.

Finally, the washcloth left, but he didn’t. He pulled himself close, on his knees in front of you, hand winding through your hair to lift your gaze up to his.

You stared into his mask, a swirling void blankly staring back. He sighed, hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you close against his chest. By now you knew him well enough to understand only silence would satifsy him.

It was a short while, no more than a minute or two, before he spoke, quiet. “Planted or compromised?”

“Planted.”

His grip tightened, his other arm possessively curling over your battle scarred back. “Your name is not [False Name].”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“A lot of us liked you, assassin girl.”

It was an understatement. Columbina enjoyed your gift with the lyre. Pantalone complimented your efficiency at dirty work. Dottore once called you “the useful hawk in a flock of pigeons”. Arlechinno complimented you, to your face. Childe always requested duels, no matter if he knew the outcome. You were, undeniably, liked within the Fatui’s highest ranks.

Capitano though, he was your sergeant, your general. He helped train you into something more lethal than before. He appreciated your battle prowess and scouting skills on expeditions earlier on in your spying career. Even when you fell into your role of Fatui’s assassin, you were often called to his side, some lousy excuse given every time, a job able to be done by any well trained soldier, delegated her for the simple purpose of keeping you close.

They fell for your ruse. The carefully crafted place you’d gained in the Fatui as a spy. And Capitano?

Perhaps he fell harder than any other.

“What ties you? What is stronger than the two of us, that you’d leave me?” He demanded, quietly, desperately.

Nothing. You’d lost all your family long ago, never having met anyone after them. Your loyalty to your nation was hardly more binding than your loyalty to this one. But loyalty was how one stayed alive. Loyalty and skill. You moved through her days like a ghost. Like a killer. Should your home fall, you’d never cry. But until then, the nation that raised you demanded your undying loyalty.

Your eyes were nearly as tired as his, the weight of your actions painted the under of your eyes a bruised blue.

“Graceless, loveless, homeless assassin. You know what happens to you now?”

You nodded.

“Horrid, horrid.” His hand grabbed your jaw, bones almost creaking as he squeezed. “Horrid, horribly enchanting woman.”

He let go, and your head fell.

“How dare you do this to me.” His deep, heavy voice shook.

“If it’s any consolation,” she rasped, eyes on her knees. “This… us... It wasn’t planned.”

“It’s not.” He spat.

You barked out a laugh. It stung your throat.

“Who is your master?”

It takes a moment for the question to process, but as it does, you smiled sadly. “This conversation will not end in a way either of us like.”

“Be happy I am the one to interrogate you. Others more cruel than me would have much more fun with you.”

“You already know my ties are with my home country. I will give you nothing more.”

“Then you know what happens now.”

His knee struck you square in the stomach, forcing you to grunt as bile crept into the back of your throat, but you didn’t curl into yourself. He struck again.

And again. And then once more.

Blood and vomit crept up the back of your throat. You swallowed it down. On the ground now, the steel toe of a boot replaced the knee, striking you in the ribs this time.

You did your best to dissociate, to wait both him and the pain out, hiding in your own mind. He must have noticed, because he refused to allow it, gloved hand pulling you up by the roots of your hair into a half sitting position, grabbing your attention for a quick moment before he stomped on her ankle so hard it cracked.

You cried out then, the scream tampering off into choked sobs.

His boot settled on her other ankle.

“What’s your true name?”

“[First]. No last name.” You gasped out.

He paused, “appropriate.”

What the fuck did that mean? You glared up at him. Gods your ankle was fucked.

“And your master?”

“Didn’t-” You spoke between labored breaths. “We just go over that? I won’t answer a question like that.”

“You will. Eventually.”

You tried to laugh, but you just ended up wheezing, falling forward. Grey was seeping into your vision, blurring at the edges. All the adrenaline in your system was basically gone.

“Kill me.” You said, “I did my duty. And I won’t assist you. Kill me.”

“I have better uses for you.”

Your expression soured. “You’ve never been one to deny an honorable death. It is the one thing you’ve always granted. Why… why is it different now?”

“You don’t deserve an honorable death.”

“There are others who’ve done far worse than me; and you’ve granted it. What crime have I committed where you deny me this?” You bit out.

“Thievery.”

“Thievery?”

“Yes. You stole so much from me. My time, my effort, my heart. It is a disrespect I won’t tolerate.” His hand slipped under your chin, pulling your head up.

“Then what? Torture?”

“No.” He said after a moment. “I will receive your loyalty. Your devotion. I will take it, even without you wanting to give it. We will return to how we were before, only this time you will not be a traitor.”

“I will not stand by your side and serve you. You know this.”

“I am a patient man. No matter how uphill the battle. I will acquire your loyalty. I will not lose you.”

You huffed. “You can try. I am not easy to break.”

“I already have a head start.” Capitano said, tilting your head with his hand. It was true. You’d done a lot for him. You underwent interrogations and torture by mutual enemies and gave up nothing. You trained by him. Fought for him. Killed for him. Sure, it was while delivering intelligence to her homeland, but it was loyalty nonetheless.

You closed your eyes. “Do your worst.”

~~~

[teecupangel]

I have been violently gripped with the idea of a CODxAC Crossover, where Ghost and the 141 stumbling across an Isu facility. They spread out to search the ruins and Ghost ends up in a vast open room containing pods. There are hundreds of them in neat rows, but only one seem to contain something. Infant twins bearing the numbers 16 and 17 on their right and left shoulder respectively. On the side of the pod there is some text carved into the metal itself. '16=Clay 17=Desmond. TRUST ONLY 141'. Reading it gives Ghost a deep chill. Before he can think further on it, the pod starts to empty and open. The kids open their eyes and stare at him with eyes he swears glow, but in a blink it's gone. Must have been his imagination. The place suddenly rumbles and his radio comes to life.

"Ghost, get out of there! Think we might have activated a self destruct sequence!"

Before he can think too hard about it, Ghost grabs the kids and starts running while chunks of the ceiling falls down around him. Strangely enough the kids don't make any noise at the rough treatment or the violent shaking and noise.

---------

So yeah, thanks to Saberamane, i have gotten into reading CoD fanfics. XD I remembered your fic on it and then i was just violently gripped with the image of a baby Desmond reaching his little hands up at Ghost and when he holds Desmond up to his face, the baby just places his hands on the mask and stares at it while smiling. Anytime anyone, besides 141, tries to take Desmond or Clay they start to fuss and/or scream bloody murder, so the gangs kinda stuck baby sitting. Well, more like Ghost with Soap's help. Price is busy trying to figure out why the General(idk enough about the lore, so unnamed General it is XD) is really interested in taking the kids. They lied about them being found inside the pods and said they found the dead body of a woman with the kids, so the interest in them is strange. Plus the ominous message written in the pod seems important. Ghost hates him, gets a strange sense of... Red??? from him.

So yeah, another hyperfixation it is. XD

If this is the reboot, he started as Lieutenant General and ends up as a General. In the OG though, Shepherd was Lieutenant General until his death.

We can set it up that Desmond and Clay are testtube babies Elijah created but Abstergo was hot on his tail so he ‘tipped off’ 141 of the location and lying of its connection to a secret terrorist organization.

Well…

It wasn’t necessary a lie because 141 is trying to find the Brotherhood. In the eyes of the world, the Brotherhood is a terrorist organization and 141 is tasked with finding their operations and stopping them.

In this one, Shepherd could either be a Templar, an ally of the Templar or (use the setup of The Shadow’s Endgame) a disillusioned Assassin gone rogue.

He doesn’t immediately clocked the babies Ghost took in as Desmond and Clay. Hell, Ghost knows well enough not to officially call them Desmond and Clay, instead going nicknames like ‘D’ and ‘C’. Soap and Gaz had been calling them different names to try and find out their actual names and they haven’t hit any jackpot yet.

Shepherd is interested in taking in the kids because he learned that the facility they attacked (which was nearby the supposed village that got wiped out during the operation) was Elijah’s secret lab.

Although they all believe Elijah to be dead so the place is actually for an unknown ‘third party’.

Abstergo believed that person is the current Sage, having awakened Aita’s memories after Elijah’s death.

So the question becomes why did Elijah decide to entrust Desmond and Clay to 141?

Because he was planning to infiltrate 141 later on.

As the new recruit of 141: Gary "Roach" Sanderson

[th3-bl00d-on-yr-hands-rom3o]

it's my belief that it's vitally important to always return to your source material, in order to avoid Fandom Brainrot; The Inevitable Assassination Of The Female Character; Loss Of Aesthetic and He Would Not Fucking Say That. so it is with that spirit that tonight, on Wednesday the 28th of August, when it is far far too hot to be considered winter, I will be listening to danger days in it's entirety. From start to finish, without skipping goodnite dr death, and without adding Fast In My Car by Paramore or Battle For The Sun by Placebo. I will be wearing my Party Poison mask and I will turn off the air conditioning and allow myself to boil to death. Afterwards I will re-dye my hair. I will not touch my character playlists with their cunty pop songs. I will not think about any fanfiction I have read, and when s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w plays I will cry like a man. goodnight.

[its-weeping]

— 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐞. | karma akabane

synopsis. a surprise gone wrong.

cw. established relationship, sparring, implied light angst

ɞ˚‧｡⋆ including. assassin!reader

notes. hello! this is my first fic on tumblr. i hope you guys like it!

adjusting the mask that concealed your face, you stand before class E.

it was an hour ago when you proposed to karasuma that you be in today's pe class. with you being an assassin, he agreed it would be beneficial for the class to test their skills and see how far they've come. both of you saw eye to eye with this, but it wasn't the main reason why you wanted to be included.

you see, because of a week-long mission, you weren't able to see karma for those seven days; contacting him would have put the mission at risk. so with your return, you thought it would be fun to surprise him, to surprise the whole class.

now, you stand idle wearing a kabuki mask, your appearance hindered so you seemed genderless. it was nerve wracking being in front of class E as a foe; you hope they'd still like you after sparring with them.

ah, it's no time to fret over.

karasuma was currently going over the instructions of today's training. you were beside him with your arms folded behind you, your posture as straight as can be so the class wouldn't be suspicious. in reality, they don't know you're an assassin—only karma does—so it isn't difficult deceiving them. but despite that, you know your classmates are smart, so it was best if you blew off any suspicion.

"right. instead of the class sparring with each other, you will spar with them–" karasuma points at you, "–to test your skills in close combat."

while the teacher spoke, your eyes wander over to koro-sensei—who was in a sand pit. the octopus takes notice of your stare and grins as he waves at you. the action makes you flinch, although you wave back in solidarity. you turn toward karasuma at the sound of his next instructions.

"your task is to try and remove the mask from your opponent's face."

isogai raises his hand, "what do we win in return?"

"nothing."

"a date!"

all attention shifts to koro-sensei as he yells those words. you, on the other hand, are taken aback by the suggestion and snap your head to where the octopus sat.

"i–"

"i'm in!" terasaka exclaims from the back of the class. you groan, practically dying as more began agreeing with koro-sensei's proposal.

"yeah, it sounds fun! though i doubt i would actually go on a date with them if they're a chick." rio announces with a laugh.

"only one way to find out." you overhear okajima say, shivering in disgust at the perverted tone he uses.

"i will be calling you one by one, so please squat while you all wait for your turn." karasuma states to the class and they all obey.

so no objection to the date thing, huh? you deadpan behind the mask. once all your classmates were seated on the open field, you observe that one student wasn't with the group—also noting that that student hasn't said a word so far.

looking over to a nearby tree, you recognize your boyfriend leaning against it. from your standpoint, his eyes were focused solely on the class building. you couldn't fret over him for long, though, as karasuma called over the first student.

"muramatsu!"

defeating your classmates in close combat proved to be much easier than you expected. you'd think with your week-long absence that most of them would improve in their skills, but they haven't much.

"okuda!"

oh no.. the girl was one of your closest companions, debatably more than karma if not as a boyfriend. a dispute broke out in your mind whether to go easy on her or not, but you thought back on karasuma's words.

"it would test their skills."

he had a point, you should treat her fairly. in addition, this would let you see how far she is in hand to hand combat.

the female advances toward you, her demeanor hesitant and shy. you get into position and make a 'proceed' motion with your fingers; she strikes. it's an attempt to hit your mask, however you counter with a defensive palm strike to her incoming arm.

you utilize your other hand and grip her wrist tight. the girl then tries to grab the mask using her less dominant hand but you smack it away with the forearm you used to counter her previous attack. once okuda was distracted, you disrupt her balance by sweeping her legs from under her.

the student was now on the ground with you still clutching her right wrist; your other hand keeping her shoulder locked to the ground.

the rest of class E marvels at your skills, clapping in unity—partly for you and partly for okuda. by the sound of a whistle, you let go of the girl and help her up.

"you did great okuda!" nagisa gives okuda a thumbs up.

you commended the blue-haired boy for lasting longer than most of the others when he was called up. although, it was isogai who outdid even him and accomplished twisting your mask so a part of your face was displayed.

majority of the class had already participated, so the only one left was, "karma!"

you peer over to where karma was, noting that he didn't take initiative to move from his spot. you roll your eyes, was he always this harrowing when you'd be gone for extended periods of time?

karasuma yells out for karma once more and only then did the red head move. his strides seemed restraint. he wasn't holding himself with high confidence, which you sigh at. you're being dramatic. you think, deeming his behavior to be 'over the top' because you were only gone for a week.

i should be assigned on a month-long mission and see his reaction. you snicker at the mental image of it.

"let's get this over with."

the pair of you get into position and you let karma toss the first move. he attempts to close the distance between you and takes hold of your dominant arm. countering the move, you throw off his balance. you recognize that your boyfriend has fast reflexes, so knocking out his balance would be an advantage for you.

the whistle... karma lost. both of you breathe heavily, panting like dogs in summer heat. currently, you were straddling the male, with him beneath you, pinning his arms to the grassy terrain.

the session was drawn-out longer than you anticipated, had your boyfriend been training? you'd frequently spar with each other so this new level of skill karma managed to achieve was a surprise.

"so none of us win a date with this beast?" maehara asks in the heat of the silence.

"even karma couldn't beat them.." kayano mentions in awe, whereas the rest of the class stare at the scene quietly.

as if on cue, the string of your kabuki mask snaps. the object falls on karma and you stiffen, this was not the plan. but you couldn't do anything, your identity was made known now that you weren't hiding behind a mask.

you didn't have to scan your classmates' faces to know how they would react.

but what of karma? what of your boyfriend? despite knowing him better than anyone else, he was still unpredictable.

you didn't know how he'd behave with your return.

would he be angry because you didn't call him prior? will he be happy to see you after a week of no communication? or even–

"(name)?"

your thoughts are cut off by the sound of karma's voice breaking through the silence. you get off of him in a frenzy, words spilling out of your mouth in an effort to explain yourself.

"i was going to come into class today after returning from my trip, but i thought that this would be better, you know? i was going to reveal myself after pe! and this wasn't supposed to happen, believe me, but– ah.."

groaning, you eventually stop rambling and rest your head in your hands, waiting for their inevitable response. one moment it was only your heavy breathing you heard, and the next there was a group of yelling adolescence in your ears—accompanied by many arms wrapping around your body.

they were hollering out a deal of words you couldn't quite catch, so you simply hug the person closest to you—which happens to be kayano.

school already ended for the day and you had finished your affairs. but one thing kept bothering you all throughout the day, though. it was that karma had never once talked to you, he never even glanced at you nor acknowledged you during breaks.

the pair of you are wending your way through an empty street at present, but not a word has been spoken between you two. you did attempt to strike up a conversation but absolutely failed, perhaps you should apologize first.

"i'm sorry i didn't contact you as soon as i finished my mission. i thought surprising you would be fun– or i guess it was more of a.. prank...?"

your words slow to a stop immediately as karma begins laughing out loud. truly, your boyfriend was an unpredictable enigma.

"you should've said something the moment that octopus mentioned we'd win a date with you."

you pause your movements, utterly stunned at karma's words.

"is that why you didn't talk to me all day?" you blink, your tone barely passing as an inside voice; beyond dumbfounded with your boyfriend's reasoning.

karma stops in his tracks, as well, and shrugs. "pretty much. you never objected to it, so–" he moves closer, "–would you have gone on a date with the person who won against you?"

the tight proximity between you both causes you to sweat drop. you pull away from the male while the question lingers in the air, waiting for a response.

"no, of course not. anyway, i didn't say anything because i didn't wanna ruin the surprise." you clarify.

"good, i should be the only one who takes you on dates."

a laugh erupts in your throat at his statement; karma's attention loiters on you, his eyes carrying mischief in them and so, he gets an idea.

"and.. i should be the only one who gets to do this with you." the redhead dives in for a kiss and reaches to hold your waist with both hands. you freeze-up for a moment, present events still sinking in; eventually you kiss him back with much more force—settling your hands to wrap around his neck.

karma smirks into the kiss and cranes his neck so he would be 'looking down' and you 'looking up'. the male squeezes your sides and you make a noise. in retaliation, you rake your hands through his locks and pull on it.

your boyfriend breaks your lips' connection, accepting his defeat.

"don't do that." you demand as you let go of his hair, and his neck altogether for that matter.

karma sticks his tongue out like a child at your disclosure. you huff and turn away from him, marching to the direction of your homes. the male catches up to you, albeit he's more relaxed than you and your stiff strides. you also note that he still had an arm snaked around your waist.

"get your hands off me."

"not a chance~!"

product of its-weeping ;༊ | do not plagiarize or translate.