#he's a little bastard man

[artichow]

would you guys believe me if i said i really like haruto

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[somnoir]

Prodigal son beyond Time - part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Damian first met his great uncle Danyal when he is three years old. His mother says he's met him long ago, when he was but a babe with a memory too fuzzy to remember. But the man before him is his grandfather's favorite child. The son that scowls at his father as he cradled Damian in his arms.

"What have you done?" His uncle scowled, a gentle hand pressed against the back of Damian's head. "He's a child!"

"Danyal!"

"You weren't like this with me." Danyal spat, keeping Damian in his arms and pressing his lips towards his nephew's forehead. Damian notes how cold his uncle's skin felt like, but more welcoming than that of his grandfather's.

"Danyal, he is to be trained like a proper Al Ghul." Grandfather said, frowning at Danyal.

"You trained me like a proper Al Ghul when I was older than him!" Danyal immediately protested, "He's three!"

"Danyal—"

"Ukht, I understand that you wish the best for your son but this is not it." Danyal immediately said, looking apologetic for interrupting Talia, but went back to glaring at Ra's. "I've tried to tolerate the fact that you handle an assassin league, father but this? You taught me to be loyal to the family. You taught me to cherish the family, you're blood—why the fuck aren't you giving the others the same treatment you gave me?!"

"Because they are not you!"

Damian doesn't recall what truly happened that day, but he does remember how his uncle's eyes went from soft blues to the same shade that the Lazarus pits glowed.

Damian remembers everything going dark.

Damian grows up differently.

He continues on his training, but everything is kinder to him. The world is kinder when his uncle is home, having tea with grandfather and overseeing his training. Mother loves him and uncle Danyal the most, claiming that they are blessings to her life.

Grandfather is quieter nowadays, almost docile with his uncle around.

It's a little more peaceful. The assassin's continue to train, to fight. But their reign of terror fall upon those that are corrupt and destroying the world. It's one of the compromises uncle Danyal and grandfather have led too.

Damian grows up differently.

Damian's arrival to the Bats' lives was unprecedented and quite confusing. He was a child raised by assassins, a child raised to become the next leader of the league. But he was... Strange. Strange for that kind of standard. 

Damian was rather sociable, hostile but not downright murderous towards them. 

His uncle did make sure that he had friends in the league.

Ra's had been utterly ecstatic to find out that he had two more grandchildren while Talia was quite pleased to know that she had a niece and nephew. 

Damian had a pair of strange cousins who snuck him out of training to go watch the stars, often getting them scolded, but it was worth it. Dante was older than Damian by five years. He was what other would call an angsty teen with how he often rebelled against his father. Meanwhile, Janelle—preferebly Ellie—was only a year older than Damian himself. She was a mischievous person who made sure that everything around her was swallowed by her own chaos. So when he entered the manor, suddenly struck with the reality that he had multiple siblings instead of just one elder brother, Damian knew what to do. 

Murder was not the answer. 

But by the words of his gracious uncle and the wisdom of his excellent cousins: fight your siblings like a feral child but defend them by being even worse to others. 

So Damian's first act as Dick Grayson's younger brother was to bite him. 

The undead were restless, rising from their graves or haunting their own corpses. It wasn't something they usually dealt with, forced to call upon magicians. 

But even Constantine was bewildered by just how cursed Gotham's lands were. To bring back the dead. Jason was a miracle but this was like an abomination, a literal zombie. 

No one really knew how to properly deal with the dead...

Well...

"My uncle would be willing to provide his assistance in this matter." Damian piped up, examining the contained zombies from a safe distance. All eyes were quickly drawn to him, bewildered and questioning. 

"I hardly think that Dusan would be suitable for this." Bruce sighed. 

Damian scowled, "Not him. My grandfather's first-born is whom I speak off. He is knowledgeable in the occult arts of the dead." 

"Damian... Ra's Al Ghul only has one son." 

"Untrue. Grandfather's greatest pride was always my uncle. He is precious to grandfather and ensures that no one knows much off him. I expected you and Drake to be aware of the first born." 

Tim stiffened, "They weren't rumours?! Ra's actually has some cryptid son?" 

Bruce, who had heard of the old tales of the Demon head's beloved heir, had always thought they were stories to scare the assassins. He's never seen the man, nor has he found any evidence of him in the league. 

Jason finally started paying attention, "So the league's golden boy can help? Dami, I don't think Al Ghul will even let his favorite kid anywhere near us." 

"You underestimate my uncle's love for me."

"You met him?" Bruce quickly interjected. 

Jason shrugged, "He helped me out back then. Patched me up when the pit madness got worse and helped me manage it. But his face was usually covered and no one really knew his name."

"Aside from myself, grandfather, and my mother." 

Bruce frowned, "Nyssa and Dusan don't know their brother's name?" 

"Grandfather says that they do not have the privilege of knowing his name. Mother was the first of his other children to have met my uncle."

"And what about you? You won't give us his name?" 

Damian scowled, feeling rather displeased with his father's choice of words. "Names are powerful, father. My uncle taught me this when I was young." 

Constantine narrowed his eyes, "You're uncle some kind of fae, kid?" 

"Watch your mouth, hellblazer. He does not like you." Damian hissed, having heard all his uncle's rants about the Laughing Magician, especially whenever he'd just randomly pick up Talia and walk around Nanda Parbat like she was a kitten rather than a deadly assassin. "But I shall call upon my great uncle and ask him for assistance. This matter with the undead shall surely pique his interest."

"Tell the old man I said hi!" Jason cheerfully added, sounding quite pleased to hear about the mysterious uncle. 

"No." Damian blatantly denied. As much as he loves Todd (and he will never admit that), he was not going to let anyone threaten his status as his uncle's favorite child. Over his dead body. 

Damian was quick to walk away from all of them, quickly retrieving all the materials he'd need to summon his uncle. Dark green paint for the summing circle, five candles, and an astrology book. 

"Bats... Why the hell is your son performing a summoning ritual? For a ghost of the realms too." Constantine's tone was strained, clearly disturbed and wary of Damian's actions. 

"Damian." Bruce warned but Damian just waved him off. He watched as Jason started lighting up the ut, humming an unfamiliar tune. 

"D'you think the old man will help us?" 

"Of course! Uncle adores me." 

"You think he'll give me his name?"

"I will gut you, Todd." Damian immediately responded with the most nonchalant tone he could ever give. 

Jason shrugged, before taking a step back. 

"Damian! Whatever you're summoning—" 

"I'm summoning my uncle, father. He's the best person to go to with these issues." Damian insisted, before muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Bruce was startled when Constantine grabbed him, eyes wide and rapidly turning pale. "Why the hell does your son know how to speak the language of the—"

Fire burst forth from the circle, slowly morphing into an icy blast. 

"Dead." Constantine's breath hitched, "Holy shit, your brat just summoned the ghost king." 

Bruce grabbed Damian the moment a hand emerged from the blast of cold. He shoved his on behind him, suddenly feeling frightened as his entire body felt goosebumps. Fuck. Did Damian really just perform a summoning ritual for such a powerful being? He never expected for Ra's to brainwash his son into believing that such a powerful thing—

"Nephew!" 

Bruce blinked, suddenly blinded by the light. 

"Uncle!" Damian escaped from his grasp, rushing into the circle. Constantine practically screamed once Damian ran into the arms of what was supposedly his uncle and the ghost king. 

In front of Bruce was the most gorgeous man he's ever met. 

The floating hair that reminded him of snow and the green eyes that were purer than the Lazarus pits. He couldn't help but swallow thickly, blinking. Damian was held up by the ghost king, allowing the boy to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. 

"Hello, dami (my blood)." The king cooed, his pronunciation of the nickname much different from the shortened version of Damian's name. "I was not expecting you to call me. What's happened, my dear?" 

Damian hummed, but before he could speak, he was immediately interrupted.

"Long time no see, old man!" Jason yelled, waving his arm as if he wasn't in the same room as the king. 

"Jason! Hello! How are you? The corrupted ecto hasn't returned, has it? If it has, just tell me. I'll schedule a check up with Frostbite." The king quickly fussed, not minding the way Damian was baring his teeth at Jason. "Damian, behave!" 

Damian just seemed to whine, refusing to behave and opting to pestering the king. 

"I'm good, uncle. Haven't gone out crazy since you took me to the doctor." Jason smiled, already ripping of his domino mask to show that his eyes were green tinged with blue, not glowing green like the pits. 

"Good, good. But I really must know why I've been called." The king softly said, directing his words to Damian who was already trying to wriggle our his grasp. Gently, the king settled Damian back on his feet. 

"Right. Uncle, my father, Batman. Father, this is my uncle." Damian introduced, his tone hurried and a bit hesitant. 

The king, Damian's uncle, smiled at Bruce. "Hello there, Mr. Wayne. I've wanted to meet you for a long time." The king hummed, "My name's Danny, but the Al Ghuls call me Danyal." 

"Uncle!" 

"Hush, hush, Damian. I can give my name to anyone I want. I don't suppose that your father is worthy of it."

Bruce really should be more concerned about the fact that the king knew his name. 

"But what of the others?" 

"Little one, I sent Nyssa and Dusan letters ages ago. But rest assured, dearest Talia is still the first to earn it." Danny—Danyal—the ghost king softly spoke and patted Damian's head. "And... Oh, it's you."

"Your majesty!" Constantine enthusiastically greeted while Danny scowled. 

"Tax evading bastard." Danny huffed, shaking his head before promptly ignoring the tax evading bastard in question. 

"Damian." 

"The dead are rising."

Danny blinked, blinked again, before he groaned and shook his head. 

"Okay, sorry. That seemed to be caused by an error on my side. Some prisoners of my realms started a riot and some of them managed to break out. Some have most likely decided to overshadow their old bodies." Danny sighed, "I'll have this taken care of. Apologies for the inconveniences."

"These... Zombies have been wrecking havoc across my city." Bruce frowned, "They've been harming people."

"Vengeful spirits do that. They're criminals meant to be in prison. It's rare for breakouts to happen, in all honesty." Danny paused, just long enough to run his fingers through Damian's hair. "But if you wish to take charge, by all means. These are corpses being possessed by their own spirits and... Well... They're out of their minds. Not really considered revenants since the possession isn't quite permanent." 

"Alright, Bats. We've gotta make a proper deal here. His Majesty was summoned so we've gotta offer him something—" 

"That's not necessary." Danny immediately waved Constantine away, evident displeasure from the man. "The sigil I gave Damian was just to call me to him. No need for an exchange."

"Seriously?" Constantine blurted out. 

Danny just shrugged, "He's family. And my favorite nephew." 

Damian smirked, absolutely smug. "I am your only nephew, uncle."

"Mm... Jason's also my nephew." Danny chuckled softly, easily stepping out of the circle and removing it from the floor—leaving not a single stain. "Now... Shall we deal with the dead?" 

Bruce Wayne has made many bad decisions in his life, especially when it came to his relationships. Damian's ghost king of an uncle might be one of them.

Masterpost

[kwillow]

Swimsuit season is well over now. Maybe it's for the best.

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

When you think about it, it was pretty on brand for Elias to start the apocalypse by giving Jon Evil Paperwork.

[starry-bi-sky]

Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au

"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"

Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.

He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.

It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.

Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.

It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.

Because it really only meant one thing.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.

Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.

Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.

This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?

It would be a firestorm.

One that Vlad is not keen on starting.

It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.

It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.

His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.

"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.

Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.

He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.

The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.

He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.

"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.

Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.

But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.

Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.

"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."

Bastard.

For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.

But, well.

They all have their dark secrets.

And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.

"I see."

[to-be-a-dreamer]

I do acknowledge that the Marvel writers were, to a certain extent, trapped in production hell when it came to adapting Clint Barton into the MCU and I do appreciate the glimpses of his comic personality that they managed to sneak into the MCU. Some of my favorites include but are not limited to:

“Look the city is-is flying. The city is flying. We’re fighting an army of robots. And I have a bow and arrow. None of this makes sense”

When faced with a completely unknown opponent who’s clearly some kind of enhanced the middle of a fight: “We haven’t met yet, I’m Clint.”

“Nobody would know. Nobody. Last I saw him an Ultron was sitting on him. Yeah I miss him already that quick little bastard.”

“Unfortunately, he’s still Barton” “Oh that’s terrible” Because he’s a little SHIT

“You’re no match for him Cap.” “Thanks Barton”

Hits a bullseye on the dart board half a centimeter from Tony’s face with absolutely no warning just because he can

In THE maximum security prison getting lectured by Tony Stark: “Blah blah blah…”

Actively lying on the floor after getting his shit rocked by a child: “Yeah you better run.”

Smugly, towards the aforementioned child: “What? You didn’t see that coming?”

Doesn’t tell his teammates that he’s taking them to his secret farmhouse in the middle of nowhere where he has a secret family. Also does not tell his wife that he’s bringing the entire Avengers lineup to her house. Because he’s a dramatic bitch with abysmal communication skills.

Does a stupid little dramatic flourish just to shoot an arrow into the fucking wall in front of literally no one but Wanda. Just for funsies.

Is played by Jeremy Renner, who I can’t Google without learning about his latest life-threatening injury. On brand.

Turns his hearing aids off at a bad musical

“Good thing they call you HawkEYE and not HawkEAR” “Hahaha. Block. Delete.” (100% did not block and delete)

Casually boards the subway after a whole entire car chase

“And the Challenger gets wrecked anyway!”

“How’s my apartment?” “…crispy”

“Sorry Santa!”

“You rely too much on technology” “Well my weapon of choice is a stick and a string”

“I’ve been taking karate since I was five” “Oh so last year?”

“Oh hey… I know you” Casually hands over the most powerful weapon in the universe.

To an actual literal chipmunk after he just jumped out the window of a skyscraper and landed in the Time Square Christmas tree “…hey”

“Clint where are you?” “I’m in the tree!” “What? Which tree?” “THE three!”

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile

[canontypicalgoblins]

greetings to all 14 of the order of the stick fans

[ricky-mortis]

I drew Ted from the wonderful @nabwastaken ‘s Time Bastard Au! The original design is by the talented @midnightnautilus , and was so very fun to draw!

[serendippertyy]

just wanted to say i absolutely adore the way you draw jax anyways bye 💥

AHHH I'm so happy you do he's been so much fun to draw idk why I just rlly enjoy it heehee JAX FOR YOU🐰

[acapelladitty]

make ourselves like clay (from someone else's dream)

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Lucy Maclean

Summary: Lucy discovers an old movie poster in a decrepit bar and happens to notice something 'interesting' about the main actor (AKA Lucy discovers Cooper's past as a film star). (2.9k words)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

As far as negotiations went, Cooper had been more than reasonable, given the circumstances, as he attempted to exchange some caps for the chem he needed. Hell, he was even offering a fair enough price as his stash ran low and the constant irritation of having to source new shit pressed at his attentions like a tick burrowing under his skin.

"It's a good deal, boys, and I ain't some fucking housewife who's gonna forget the value of a thing just because some handsome fellas like yourselves are talking to her."

"Listen, mutant-"

"Oh, I listen much better when we're all being respectful now." Cooper interrupted, his voice airy in a very dangerous way. "My associate and I are being nothing but gracious in these here talks."

Having quickly learned it was better to shut up when Cooper was leading a deal, Lucy instead focused on the second dealer as he pulled his attention from the ghoul to focus on her instead.

Since entering, his attention hadn't ever strayed too far from her; flitting beyween her face and her chest as he stared her out. It was repulsive and, given her recent troubles, the focus made her skin itch with discomfort as ghostly memories of harsh hands washed over her.

"Hey!" The dealer spoke to her, voice low and conversational but still loud enough for the other parties to hear him clearly enough. Reaching across the table, he flashed a smile in Lucy's direction as he reached for her arm with a grime-ridden hand. "Just so you know, whatever the mutant here is paying you for a fuck, I'll pay double, and you can enjoy the feeling of a real man agai-"

A sharp scream cut the dealers words off in his throat as a flash of movement saw Cooper introducing the heft of his knife into the back of his approaching hand, pinning the offending limb to the rickety wooden table as only an inch of the blade stood free of his patchy skin.

Chaos reigned for only a few precious seconds as the lead dealer pulled his own weapon free of his pocket - the small, rusted pistol not a patch on the enhanced gun which Cooper was pointing back at his head, accuracy unmistakable as his fingers held still and didn't falter in the slightest.

His hand mauled and bleeding profusely as scarlet dripped freely to the floor, the offending dealer appeared to almost be in shock as his screams died to quick-fire profanities and sharp gasps.

"You fuck! Danny, he fucking stabbed me! Look- look at this shit! My fucking hand, man. Ain't no stimpacks here to fix this, Dan!"

Hand never leaving the hilt of his knife, Cooper tutted out his disapproval as he twisted the blade slightly to draw a fresh cry from his pinned prey.

"The way I see it," Cooper spoke calmly over the screams as his attention never strayed from the leader he were standing off with, "you can tell your man to apologise to the lady or I'll twist this knife until his hand is so mangled even the mutts won't want it. Then I'll cut what's left of his fingers off and shove them down his fucking throat."

Dan, the leader, took the open threat in stride as he held up his palms in a vaguely placating way, a smile not covering the panic in his eyes.

"Okay folks, let's not let things get out of hand. If you let him go, I'll agree to the terms and give you what you want."

Satisfied with that, Cooper pulled the knife free with a raised browbone as he passed it off to Lucy - allowing her to hold the bloodstained blade while his other hand extended out to receive his much needed chem.

"See that, vaultie." Clicking his tongue against his teeth as the vials were gently placed into his palm, Cooper tilted his head enough to the side to catch Lucy's eye. "That's how we deal with dumb fucking manners up here."

More desensitised to the violence than she would like to admit, Lucy rolled her eyes at him as a secret pleasure blossomed in her gut that he had been so quick to defend her. Since their run-in with the human traffickers, his attitude hadn't shifted much - staying as dry and unforgiving as ever - but she had noticed a slight improvement in his rougher edges when it came to any physical touch between them as his hands were noticably more gentle.

And by more gentle, she meant that if he needed her to move he would pull her sharply rather than his previous choice which felt more akin to trying to rip her arm out of its socket. But, improvement was improvement and she respected that by playing her part in moments like this.

He never spoke about the incident, never asked any follow up questions, but the violence he had enacted towards the other half of the traffickers as they descended on their small camp had frightened her as much as it pleased that hateful voice inside her that wanted them to suffer.

She got her wish, that much was clear, and whatever guilt she would have felt was swept away as they later stumbled on the corpses of the 'product' they weren't able to shift. Rotting corpses, some with their hair still intact, all piled nude in a makeshift grave a short walk away from their camp.

Cooper hadn't commented, aside from a slight downturn of his lips, and Lucy was too busy retching off to the side to notice anything else.

That's how we deal with dumb fucking manners up here.

Because of course it was.

x-x-x-x-x

Deal concluded, exploring what remained of the little abandoned town was the last port of call before Cooper demanded that they both moved forward with their goals. The dealers, having slunk off on their merry way, didn't seem to pay them any more mind and Lucy was thankful for it as she entered the swing doors of a building, immediately seeing a bar-like setup.

"Hello?"

Allowing the word to float across the room and recieve no answer, Lucy quickly stepped inside and started looking around. Dust covered almost everything, spreading a thick mat of filth across the various bits of broken furniture, and her mouth settled into a line as she headed straight for the bar. Looking below the shelves, broken bottles littered the wood, the alcohol and liquids within having long since gone rotted or evaporated away so she ignored them for now.

Glancing at the floor, a shattered poster lay, half-tucked beneath a snapped floorboard and her fingers snatched it up out of sheer curiosity. Blowing a plume of dust free, she cleaned what remained with the sharp point of her elbow.

It was a movie poster, framed and practically preserved. The top half almost spotless - the lower half was torn away, the shattered glass having allowed it to weather with time and take any information about the image with it. Looking at the upper part in more detail, it showed a man sitting atop a bale of hay and Lucy peered closely at it.

A tan cowboy hat sat across his head, tilting up towards the sun in the background as a pistol hung lazily between the actors fingers. The words "High Noon Rodeo" were the only pieces of writing visible and they blazed across the top of the poster in a curled red font. A cowboy film. One that she hadn't heard of or seen before, not that the limited showings of old movies that her vault showed as entertainment gave her any kind of general understanding, but she knew well enough to know it was a cowboy film.

Eyes falling to the main actor again, Lucy hummed quietly as she brought the poster closer to her face. He was handsome, that was for sure. Dark hair spilled from a proud forehead, and while his expression was very serious and foreboding, there was an intenseness to his gaze that enthralled her. The clothing was fitted and muted, the colours matching the dusky background well, but her attention kept slipping back to the man's face - a tickle of something familiar knocking at her thoughts.

"Whatcha got there, vaultie?"

Startling with a yelp, Lucy whirled in place to find that Cooper had snuck up on her; his impressive size apparently not that difficult to conceal as he slithered around like a cobra, ready to strike.

"Movie poster." She answered with a smile, excited to share her findings. "Look." She held the poster up between them, careful to splay her fingers to avoid the worst of the shattered glass.

Cooper may have been good as hiding his feelings, but he wasn't completely immune to the odd slip, and surprise widened his eyes and slackened his mouth before his brain caught up with him and he settled his features into a familiar scowl.

"And?" He asked, tone short and irritated. "What good is that shit to us? Came to find you in a bar and I was hoping you were gonna show me a bottle of something I could throw down my throat. Fucking useless bit of tat you have there."

Crestfallen at the sudden aggression in his attitude, Lucy thrust the picture closer towards him as she silently entreated him to look again.

"He's handsome."

A hot discomfort trailed across Cooper's skin as Lucy unwittingly appraised him, a familiar feeling of the world being a giant practical joke on him settling across his shoulders while he rocked on his heels.

"Like I give a fuck about that, but sure, in a way. They don't make 'em like that anymore."

"Have you seen this before? I know you've been around since the bombs went off and you know more about this stuff than I do." Excited, Lucy couldn't hold back her enthusiasm as her wide eyes and batting eyelashes did everything they could to entice him into spilling some knowledge of which she was utterly ignorant. "C'mon, please?"

With an annoyed growl, Cooper met her gaze with his own, holding her eye to show her just how serious he was as he exhaled slowly, as though speaking to someone with mush for brains.

"Put that shit down."

Stupidly brave as ever, Lucy held his eye but Cooper was quick to realise his mistake in allowing her to do so as her brow furrowed for a moment before dropping to the poster and then back to him.

A horrible feeling of realisation trickling down his spine, Cooper visibly flinched as a pitched cry slipped free of Lucy's lips and her hands raised the framed poster so it sat by his face.

"Oh my goodness!" Blinking rapidly as her body seemed to vibrate with her discovery, Lucy grinned. "Holy moly! It's you! This is you! Cooper! The eyes are the same."

An intrusive thought pushed its way into Cooper's considerations as his minds eye conjured up images of just knocking her flat out with the butt of his pistol and leaving her to awaken. When out, he could hide the poster and do his best to convince her that the radiation was finally getting to her head. But, knowing Lucy Maclean, that dipshit brain of hers wouldn't let it go, even under trauma.

"Quite the insightful little vaultie." He countered with an unpleasant smile. "Where's all these brains been hiding at?"

"What was it like?" Still positively thrumming with joy, Lucy couldn't sense the danger in the air as she continued on. "I've seen pictures of the old days, before the war, and it all looked so pretty and bright. You were a movie star! Wow! And so handsome."

Babbling, Cooper waited for her to finish before catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. The touch steadied her, stalling her words as those big eyes rounded on him.

"It was a miserable fucking experience." He offered, voice so low and intimate that Lucy visibly held her breath to make sure she didn't miss a word. "Nothing but shit and lies. Traitors ready to stab you in the back at the first chance, their knives always out and ready to take another shot as you got back up to your knees. Nothing but a flock of circle jerkers ready to fuck you over at the first get."

The delight in her expression dimming with every passing word, Lucy's eyes grew - if possible - even rounder as she held her ground and let him speak.

"You think this life is bad, sweetheart? You still got so much to learn and I aint a teacher."

His mind lost to the echoes of a previous life, one filled with pain and betrayal - the moments of joy soured by what was to come as he lost everything from his career to his family - it wasn't until Lucy whimpered that he realised just how tightly he was gripping her chin.

Releasing her without apology, Cooper took the poster from her hands and dropped it to the floor; taking great satisfaction in the sound of smashing glass as the last few shards splintered off and skittered across the floor like insects. He turned from her then, a heat in his chest making him angry with himself as he feared he had said too much, and he started to storm off, ready to leave this shithole of a town behind.

"I'm sorry." Her apology were soft, the words carrying despite how small her voice sounded, and he turned to face her once more.

Standing amongst the debris, Cooper felt his irritation spike once more as he took in the sight of her. Even just holding her ground there, her clothing stained and as grimy as his own, she shone like a beacon - her goddamn naive innocence making her stand out from the shit and decay that had rotted and engulfed everything else it touched.

He had been cruel to her. That innocence, amusing at it was upon first meeting, made her a prime candidate for being torn to shreds by the new world she had entered. So necessity had dictated that he be cruel, using her for his own gain as he antagonised her with a sick curiosity; a wicked desire to see just how far the vaultie could be pushed before she either broke under the pressure or adapted to survive.

She was a lost cause until she snapped his finger off with her teeth. There he saw it. That little spark of steel that would see her do what she needed to survive. If she hadn't inadvertently fucked his entire supply of drugs, then he might even have been tempted to keep her for longer until something more pressing came along.

But no, he had sold her and he didn't regret it.

Not even when he lay in his stupor and watched as she dropped the vials of chem by his side, keeping as true to her golden rule as he did to his own.

Lucy Maclean.

A vaultie who wasn't afraid to rip a man's tongue out with her teeth or split his throat when necessity asked for it.

And here she was, apologising for asking him a few questions, the guilt on her face making the small voice within him that still criticised his more monstrous actions feel like shit for grabbing her so roughly.

The Ghoul would treat a woman like that, Cooper Howard, not so much.

"Sorry for what? Asking some questions?" He tilted his head at her, regarding her once more before continuing to leave. "Save apologies for the things that matter, sweetie." He shouted over his shoulder.

Allowing him a slight headstart as her mind whirled with what the hell had just happened, Lucy pushed down the guilt she felt at how badly he had reacted to being reminded of his former life. She hadn't thought about it. About how painful it must be to have something nice and then end up...well, end up like him.

Dropping to one knee, she carefully pulled the poster free of the now-fully shattered frame. Her finger were dexterous as they ripped the paper, a ragged line tearing across the poster until all that remained was the image of the cowboy.

Cooper.

Lucy folded the paper carefully and slipped it within her pocket, a wicked sense of naughtiness making her smile as she kept her little secret away from her grumpy companion.

Maybe one day she'd ask him more about it.

Especially since, despite the mutations and the attitude that was utterly grim, she could still see the lingering handsomeness in his face. The missing nose was easily looked past and his face, as pitted and marked as the rugged landscape which held true on every nearby horizon, still held much of the same shape.

And the eyes.

She'd asked him for sex once, hasn't asked since, and one of the leading factors in that choice had been his eyes - the intensity of them having left her a shuddering mess on more than once occasion as she found herself pinned by his glance alone.

Staring at the exit which Cooper had recently vacated through, Lucy attempted to shove the thoughts from her mind as she made a quick start to scarper after him - not trusting the ghoul to wait for her for too long.

Links to the rest of the series:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[forcedhesitation]

astarion origin playthrough worth it just for all the extra moments where he does the "sad wet cat" face

[veinsfullofstars]

★ Kirbtober 2024 Day 5: Royal ★

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Shadow Dedede, standing with a confident lean and smiling fiercely at the viewer, one hand propped cockily on his hip, the other holding his great mechanical hammer over his shoulder. Around him, red stars drip darkly. END ID.)

Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/paintpanic)

Started on 09/03/24, finished on 09/04/24. | Kirbtober 2023 Comp

[glaiveprime]

its actually so fun to make your selfship toxic yaoi actually. all frey does is bother arthur so much that he gets a rage boner about it

[cybertron-after-dark]

Being constantly surrounded by the presence of a loving God sounds great until you realize you never know when his freaky fuckin eyes are gonna show up to check on you.

And man. They do it a LOT.