#he's got a terrible degree of power

[vonehrenfest]

Vlad in the DC universe has got to be one of the most bizarre people within the billionaire circle ever right?

Owner of multiple extremely valuable businesses, all of which he did not start himself and bought through mysterious and suspicious means. He's clearly got an evil-mastermind hypnosis thing going on - but also he's not doing anything else with his mind control abilities and he doesn't live in any of the more populated cities.

Instead he spends all his time trying (and failing??) to buy the Green Day Packers (again, why doesn't he use his mind-control here? Some strange sense of honor? love?) and living in a giant castle enshrining the proud state of Wisconsin's history of cheese-making. (The equivalent of living in the Bass Pro Pyramid, or Blucifer.) But despite his love of Wisconsin he also just f*cks off one day to become Mayor of some middling town in Illinois where his big platform is fighting ghosts.

Like I'm imagining Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne meet him at a gala one day. Lex wants to scope out if he can work with/use Vlad and Bruce is investigating him. They're both thinking that he's just doing an eccentric billionaire act the same way Lex does his good-guy philanthropist routine and Bruce has his himbo-dad mask... except no, Vlad is really just in love with Wisconsin and he is actually obsessed with ghosts.

Halfway through the gala he starts fighting with his best friend's teenage son.

[dcxdpdabbles]

For Danny, gravity is a suggestion, but when he's human he prefers to feel ground under his feet while he's thinking. This leads to him often not realising he's started walking on the wall or ceiling when he's lost in thought or otherwise distracted.

Tim's definitely normal human friend Danny, pacing on the ceiling during his third visit at Wayne manor: [ranting about something, probably defending his love of weird flavour combo milkshakes]

The Batfam, silently debating how they're gonna break it to Danny that he's a meta: ........

Tim's eyes follow Danny as he starts pacing around the table, his homework abandoned on the table. His voice is becoming sharper, and his words are strung together more as he continues. He noticed that he became less aware of his surroundings when his friend started going on his rants.

Watching Danny's body language become slightly less human was fascinating. It started with his eyes—if Danny felt angry, they would glow green. Tim always knew when to cut back on his teasing whenever he saw the flash of green, no matter how brief the green was.

When Danny rants about something that upsets or makes him sad, his voice gains a particular echo. It is almost as if he is slowly walking into a cave.

There were times when Danny got excited or happy; his hair would start to puff up slightly. This reminded Tim of when he would rub a balloon on his hair to study the positive and negative charges.

Danny's hair didn't flout straight up, but it was electric enough to be noticeable if you paid enough attention.

It was as if his emotions affected his physical form like a mood ring. Tim could always tell what Danny felt by watching for the little effects.

All these little things were easy to hide. Most people noticed less than Tim did, but there was one little quirk Danny did that was rather hard to miss.

"What if we talked about the effect of well-lit street lights on crime rates?" Danny asked, striding up to a wall and casually pacing on it. He continued to think out loud, with his eyes closed, as he made loops on the ceiling. Tim needed to pay more attention to the subject of their presentation, but he was somewhat distracted by how Danny's hair and shirt defied gravity.

They stayed perfectly in place as if his friend were still on the ground and not upside down. Tim wondered if his powers were less flying and more gravity-shifting.

It would also explain his lower degree of super strength if he could manipulate gravity. (Tim didn't care what Danny claimed in gym class. No regular human could lift two punching bags like nothing, especially for something as casual as cleaning up)

Or maybe he was able to move in a fifth direction. From his perspective, while Tim was stuck in 3D, Danny could move in the fourth and walk on the ground. It would explain why he didn't notice he had stepped on the walls or ceiling. To Danny, he never left the floor.

"No, that wouldn't work," Danny mutters, making loops around the chandelier. "What if we...but then that would mean...."

Tim couldn't make out most of his words, but that was fine. Danny also tended to mutter under his breath when he was deep in thought.

He cranks his neck back, eyes tracing the way Danny seemed to strut around as if he was out for a walk on a nice sunny day in the park. Carefully, making sure Danny was too distracted by his thoughts, Tim aimed his camera phone at him.

He takes a few photos and then opens the family group chat.

Tim: I need advice on gently telling a friend something that may change our friendship. I've tried to say it to him before but he doesn't seem to get it.

Jason: buy him some flowers and write him a poem. He'll love it.

Steph: That's terrible advice, Jay. No one does that anymore

Jason: No one has class anymore, you mean. Besides, boys deserve to be romanced, too.

Dick: Just tell him how you feel, Tim! Be direct and make sure you use the words "I like you romanticly." Sometimes people don't understand you're asking them out.

Damian: Do not bother me with your failed courtships.

Duke: Maybe don't go as far as Jay said, but Dick's right. You have to say, "Go on a date with me" or something.

Steph: Try the bend and snap! It's Elle Woods-approved!

Tim: No, that's not what this is about. I need help telling Danny he might be a metahuman with Superman-level Power.

There is a long pause before his phone vibrates again.

Damian: I beg your finest pardon?

Bruce is typing.....

Tim: He's friendly! He just has yet to notice that what he does isn't regular.

Jason: Wait, isn't Danny that kid we saw you at the ice ring with? The one that snuck up on Cass by accident?

Tim: Yes

Multiple people are typing.....

Tim briefly glances up to see what Danny is up to, and he is surprised that Frost has started developing in his footsteps. That's certainly new. He attached the photos to the chat, sending them off as Danny slowly floated back down.

He watches as his friend flips horizontally in mid-air so that he's standing upright when he lands. His hair is starting to puff up again, so he is not surprised when Danny's eyes snap open with a gleeful glint in them.

"I figured it out, Tim!"

"That's great," Tim tells him with a smile as Danny eagerly returns to his seat. He is babbling about the solution to their government class and how he knows he can get their proposed bill passed with the correct narrative.

Tim watches frost develop around his pencil and chair. Fascinating. Does that mean excitement? He almost forgets about the family group chat while attempting to figure out what emotion Danny is experiencing to connect to frost that he missed a few messages.

Bruce: Tim, where are you?

Bruce: he made Cass jump because she didn't hear or see him coming. That's worrisome.

Bruce: He could be dangerous

Bruce: Where are you

Bruce: Tim, answer me

Bruce: Timothy Jackson Drake, answer the phone right now

Dick: Oooooohhhh middle name

Damian: They are in the left-wing dining room, Father. I already have a visual on them.

Damian sent a photo of two teenage boys sitting at a table, bending over to look at a book together. Papers and pencils are scattered around the stranger while Tim's trusted laptop is in front of his part.

Bruce: Good. Keep them in sight at all times and report any suspicious behavior.

Damian: Naturally.

Steph: No DNA test is needed

Duke: Literally.

Cass: I am confused. I thought we all knew Tim's boyfriend was not human?

Jason: We did not, in fact, know that Cass.

Cass: It is obvious by the way he moves that Danny is not a meta-human. He is close to one, but he moves like a different being. He reminds me of Captain Marvel.

Multiple people are typing......

[yandere-daydreams]

Hear me out hear me out on this concept idea

Southern gothic small town pastor Geto AU

tw - non/con, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, financial abuse via organized religion, and implied kidnapping.

wait that would actually be so hot of him actually.

i don't know what is about geto but he just,,, radiates scummy religious figure energy to such an atrocious degree. like, couldn't you just imagine him moving from small town to small town, posing as a country-values pastor to scam his ever-growing congregation out of their life's savings and retirement funds before smuggling himself away and moving on to fresher meat? if he works quickly, the whole operation takes a little less than six months, and he's got such a charming smile and such a soothing voice - no one's ever so much as thought twice about trusting him, not really, not unless they wanted to be the next town outcast.

well, no one aside from you, of course.

it's cute - just how suspicious you are of the man who has your chronically truant parents sitting in the front row of his chapel twenty minutes early. you'll tell anyone who's got the time to listen that you don't like his hollow expressions, that you don't find his sermon-topics appropriate, that you don't trust how quickly he showed up after your last pastor suddenly went missing. no one listens to you, of course. you burnt that bridge when you decided to move away to some big, new-age city and attend some expensive, self-aggrandizing university. like him, you'll only be in town for a few months, just until the start of your next semester, but unlike him, you actually care about what's going to happen to your neighbors after you leave. the fact that you stopped going to church entirely after he took over doesn't help. in a town like this, you might as well be signing the warrant for your own social exile.

you make an effort to keep your distance, but he just can't seem to pay you the same courtesy. in a town like yours, it's can be hard not to run into familiar faces, especially when he seems to stop in at the general store where you picked up a summer job every other day, when he mentions to your mother that they could really use an extra pair of hands at the church's monthly bake sale or tells your father that he might want to bring a helper the next time he comes to fix up a few things around the sanctuary. you're always so flustered around him, always so brooding - like you think someone's going to believe you just because you cross your arms and pout. he savors any chance he gets to touch you - whether it's his hand ghosting over the small of your back as he moves past you in a narrow hall or your body pressing into his after he forgoes your offered handshake in favor of a nice, tight, neighborly hug.

and, when you come to him, he thinks he might finally know why people try so hard to get into heaven. it goes without saying that you're irate, shouting at him from the steps of his parsonage as you demand he return the tens of thousands of dollars that your mother so generously donated early that day, but it's not hard to convince you to come inside, to get a glass of wine into your hand under the pretense that, if you really drove all this way just to yell at him, it's the least you deserve. things devolve from there - your glass looks a little empty, why doesn't he top you off while you tell him what a terrible person he is? you've already finished that bottle, but he's got a gorgeous vintage red, and you're just starting to slur - he's sure it'll be fine. and, oh, well, you're far too drunk to drive yourself home, but don't worry, his bed's big enough to share. and oh, look at that, don't you feel lucky to wake up naked and sore in an unfamiliar bed, the handsome young pastor's cock still buried inside of you? he's sure your parents will be elated when you two tell them about your new engagement (because, of course, you can't just sleep with your local pastor and expect to come out of it without a ring on your finger, can you?), even if you seem a little upset right now.

it's only as he watches you sob into his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and his cum still dripping out of you, that he decides he might be able to stay in this particular small town for a few more months. just long enough to find a way to take you with him, when he leaves.

[unyieldingmemory]

Reckless (Sylus x reader)

He sees you take a bullet, and remembers what it feels like to be scared.

Tags: sfw, hate/love relationship, very angry mc

It all happened fast. The screaming, the flying bullets, and the realization that you, your aethor core to be precise, was the root cause of it. You were invited to this party as mere bait.

You ducked under a table and scanned the room for the nearest exit. Then your eyes fell on a little girl trembling under another table. You were filled with more rage. This had to be the most selfish, psychotic thing he'd ever done. 

You helped the little girl towards the back exit but before you could follow her out, something clipped the back of your thigh and your body hit the tiled floor. You ignored the strange shadows and eerie whispers that then followed because it hurt like hell to move. You had never been shot with a bullet before.

The amazing thing about the human body is that even through terrible pain, it will generate the energy to cuss at someone who deserves it. The strange shadows from before were Sylus' evol, transporting you to the rooftop of one of the nearby buildings. He'd propped you up against a wall, demanding how many bullets you'd absorbed. Now as you took a good look at him, you were filled with energy. 

"Bastard," you glared. His eyes rose from your bleeding leg to your glowering eyes. "Use me as bait, fine!" It wasn't. You wanted to strangle him for it, "But there were women, and children, and families there," you had to catch your breath. The indifference he wore on his face drove you crazy. "You scumbag!" you shoved him. He caught your arm, and regarded you coldly. 

"Some kids are born unlucky. You need to grow up, sweetie" his answered condescendingly. 

With that, your hatred for him was restored. "You're the worst." He might not have taken your family, but he belonged with those ruthless criminals. He only cared about power and those stupid weapons. "And I mean it this time," you hissed.

The corners of his lips drooped at the conviction in your voice, and he trained his eyes on your injured leg instead, "save it for later. We have an urgent problem right now."

You swat his hand away. "Don't touch me. I don't need your help," you snapped. He ignored you.

"These aren't normal bullets---" he swiftly caught your flying fist. "I need take them out now," he tried to reason but you weren't listening.  

"I don't care," you yelled at him. You wanted to get away from him. He was the reason you got shot in the first place.  

He squeezed your fist. He was growing frustrated, but he couldn't simply walk it off. Not this time. "If you cherish your life at all, you will cooperate with me."

"Let go of me!" You kicked him with your other leg. He caught your knee and slammed it down.

"You're not going anywhere," he pushed you down on the concrete by a strong hold on your shoulder. Pain coursed through you and you closed your eyes and counted silently, waiting for the pain to subside. "You're not going anywhere," he repeated, more calmly, "until they are out." 

You focused on the cool, rough stone pressed against your cheek. You knew you were laying on your stomach, but it hurt too much to move.

The tight fabric of your pant leg came loose and provided you with some relief. "I will be as fast as possible," he said from above, "brace yourself."

The pain nearly took you out. You didn't care who saw or heard you scream. All you wished for was an anesthetic. After a while, it subsided to a manageable degree and your breathing evened.

You felt him release your shoulder and you rolled onto your back slowly, breathing heavily. He stood watch over you. Your eyes followed his towering figure, and lingered on his glistening fingers. They dripped with your blood. He'd taken the bullet out. 

"Better?" his voice was shaken, as if he wasn't the one who shed blood on a regular basis. You wanted to chastise him, but not a muscle in you moved. "Y/n." He said your name more impatiently, the panic rising in his tone. He hated how pale you looked, how quiet you'd grown. Where did all your energy go?

Your eyes followed him as he came to his knees and leaned over you. His eyes searched your face and his chest rose and fell unevenly. He didn't look so calm and smug now. He looked scared, the way he should have looked when he brought you to this party.

He never got scared. Ever. Not until now. All because of you. Your heart swelled against your better judgement. "Why can't you care like a normal person?" your throat tightened, "why do I have to get hurt for you to look at me like that?"

"I'm so sorry, kitten," his voice was full of regret. He forgot you were not the impenetrable woman who conquered him so long ago. He'd almost lost you. 

He remembered then what it felt like to be scared.

Thank you for reading!

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

please tell us more about your mad theory about the tories getting rid of Sunak?

So the Tories currently have two (2) major problems.

Problem the first: they are about to lose power as soon as the GE rolls around, which it must do by January 2025 at the absolute latest. And the country is baying for one sooner.

This is very much preoccupying their minds at the minute. The rich and powerful will never willingly let you vote away their wealth and power, and to put this into perspective, the Tory party has ruled this country either jointly or alone for over a decade at this point. One of David Cameron's strategies as leader was to focus on recruitment of young and exciting diverse Tories into the party, which is how we got such stellar entries as Liz Truss and Priti Patel and Suella Braverman. These are MPs, therefore, who have never known political life outside of being on the winning side. They are seeing the end of the gravy train in sight, and they are taking it as well as you'd expect.

This is why the infighting is so rife (partly; bear with). The main thing they care about right now is making the party electable again, and fast.

But...

Problem the second: like all good fascist dictators, when Boris Johnson came to power, he fired everyone who said anything bad about him for disloyalty, and promoted all his personal friends. This is how we got such stellar entries as Nadine Dorries and Jacob Rees Mogg and Michael Fabricant. But THAT'S an issue because saying bad things about BJ is basically what intelligent people did, because the man was a useless blundering oaf who killed horrifying numbers of his own electorate via the world's second worst mismanagement of a global pandemic. So removing anyone who criticised him meant, in very real terms, removing the only Tories with half a brain who were even a fraction capable of doing joined up thinking required to run a country. Like, fuck every Tory with a cactus, obviously, but they did at least used to have competent, high calibre politicians, however evil and grotesque they were. David Cameron should die in a cesspit, but he was capable of remembering to put the bins out (before wage cutting the refuse collectors).

And therein lies the real problem: okay, BJ is gone, the party is in ruin, they're staring down the barrel of the most humiliating election defeat in history. They need someone competent that they all like who can take the reins and make people like them again.

But who's left?

There's no one. There's no one left. Not just because the remaining Tories are too low calibre to lead; they're too low calibre to even be able to pick someone without shrieking like cliquey little harridans on the playground about how the wrong in-group got in. Half of them are still BJ loyalists who hate anyone who criticise The Great Brexit Leader. The other half hate BJ for managing to make everyone hate the Tories so much that they're in this mess. Both halves are willing to sabotage the chosen leader of the other, locked in a battle of mutually assured destruction.

So how does Sunak fit into this?

He's unpopular in the party to a truly staggering degree, and not much better in the eyes of the public. He's tried to take a centrist stance on BJ, but that's actually just pissed off both sides. He did manage to stabilise the economy somewhat after the appalling mess Liz Truss threw it into, but he hasn't actually fixed it - we're still mid-cost of living crisis, we're still inexplicably not rich after Brexit like Boris prommied, inflation is still at an all time high as public services crash. The public hates him.

And he hasn't made the public stop hating the Tories. That petition calling for a GE is great, because it won't happen - BUT, it does force the issue to be debated in Parliament with opposition parties getting to stick the boot in, which means the humiliation continues. The Tories are starting to get desperate again.

And because this lot of Tories are, as mentioned, utterly terrible low-calibre political idiots, their response to this pressure has for the last four years been to oust the leader and get another.

And the first letters of no confidence have been sent into the 1922 Committee already. The devil moves fast, but knuckle dragging Tories with a fifth of a braincell each move faster.

And thanks to the absolute fucking state of them all... I cannot believe I'm saying these words, but genuinely the best person they have left who could possibly do the job is, of all fucking people, Michael Fucking Gove, and it won't even be him because he was mean to Boris once.

So yeah. I reckon Sunak may be out in six months. Fuck knows who we get instead. Probably Penny Mordaunt.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Feliz aniversário (hope thats correct) 😁🎂

If you don't mind maybe you could do "What if I kissed you right now? Would you stop me" with ⚔️ and a fem!reader please? Doesn't have to be nsfw.

Anon, that was perfect portuguese! Thank you so much for the birthday wishes! ❤️❤️ I know you said that it doesn't have to be NSFW, but it kind of turned out VERY NSFW... 😶 I hope that's still okay and I hope you enjoy it! I know I say this about all the stories, but damn did I have a lot of fun with this one!

I found the Zoro pic on Pinterest and couldn't find the artist. If you know it, please tell me so I can give credit! 🙏

Menace

Word Count: 5586

Tags: Fem!Reader; Rough Sex; Hate Sex; Enemies to Friends with Benefits; Edging; Power Dynamics; Spanking; NSFW; MDNI; Cursing; Alternate Universe - Modern Day College;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Your fraternity house, The Straw Hats, is hosting an auction to raise money for charity. The pleasure of your company has just been bought by the most insufferable man on campus, Roronoa Zoro. You've known him since you were kids, hated him for just as long, and now you're his for the night.

Notes: Yeah I can't take it... I was going to post this tomorrow but I'm terrible. I cannot hold on to a finished fic for more than half an hour. Should I post everyday? Maybe not, but, hey, let's break all the rules 🤯 I post and you all read whenever you got the time! How about that? 😅 I hope you enjoy this! ❤️

|Masterlist|

“Why do you hate Zoro so much?” Nami casually downs her –second? Third?– serving of vodka and doesn't even wince at the burn. 

“It's complicated.” You take a small sip of your second refill and stop trying to keep up with Nami, or you'll be drunk before the auction even begins. 

“Try me!” She challenges you with a grin and pours another drink on her red cup. 

With a heavy sigh, you roll your eyes almost to the back of your head. “We go way back. Mihawk was my neighbour, and Perona used to be my babysitter, so I played with Zoro all the time, and he was always an insufferable prick. I just can't stand him.” Clenching your teeth, you forget about your self-imposed rule of slowing down and drink the contents of your cup in one long gulp. 

You regret it immediately. 

“Damn, that burns.”

“That's it?” Nami scoffs. “How anticlimactic.”

“What did you expect?” Setting the cup aside, you raise your brow while scanning the crowd. The party is finally picking up speed. 

“I don't know. Anything is more interesting than that. That doesn't even make sense! A lover's quarrel, a con gone wrong, you broke his favourite toy as a kid… anything!”

With a pout, you take offence at Nami's words and mumble between your teeth. “I still have a right to hate his guts. We're just not compatible.”

Nami empties her cup again and shrugs. “Weirdo! Well, looks like the party is filling up, let's take our place on the stage!”

The groan that leaves your lips sounds like it came from the depths of hell. Damn it, you really didn't want to do this tonight. But you still follow Nami through the raging crowd and up the rickety steps of the impromptu stage –the kitchen and the living-room table lined up into an unstable surface – your irritation mounting up more and more. “Remind me why we're doing this again?” You ask through gritted teeth. 

“It's a charity auction! For those kids with congenital diseases in Punk Hazard. It's an awesome cause, come on. You can bear this.”

Usopp takes ‘the stage’ and starts tapping the mic, a frown on his lips. “Oi, Franky, this is not working.”

“Yes, yes.” You continue. “I'm sure I can bear subjecting myself to be sold at an auction because ‘it's for charity’!” You say with varying degrees of eye-rolling. “Hey, Robin.” You greet the arriving girl. “Nami set you up for this too?”

Robin smiles at you with her sweet, beautiful smile. “She didn't have to. It's for charity! And you're not selling yourself, it's the pleasure of your company.”

Nami laughs and you groan. “You two are too good for this world.”

“Ah, yes, perfect! Thank you, Franky!” Usopp finally manages to get the mic to work, and the crowd starts to gather in front of the stage. The Straw Hats frat house, which you are a member of, is not big, but it's not that small either. You guys started small, didn't even make it to ten original members, but Luffy made such a name for himself that now, people rush all over campus just to join. “Welcome, welcome to the charity auction for… for…”

“The kids, dumbass!” Nami growls and hits him in the head. 

“The kids! So, it has come to our attention that we were being–...” Usopp takes out a cue card from his pocket. “Misogynistic pigs.” He quotes with his fingers and sets the card aside. “Because we only had a line up of ladies up for auction.”

A chorus of boos fills the space, and you chuckle as Usopp starts to sweat. “Buuuuut, we fixed that! So, today, we will host an all-gender auction with the original members of the Straw Hats.” A loud cheer erupted, and you could've sworn the foundations of the very house shook. “And some extras.” Usopp adds with a grin and gives the crowd more time to get excited. 

“Get your berries ready for: Nami–” The crowd cheers and wolf-whistles and you can hear Sanji threatening every man that dares look at Nami the wrong way. “Franky!” The woos are so loud that you almost have to cover your ears. “Robin, Luffy and his brothers, and yes, ladies and germs, they do come as a package, so bid high, Sanji, me–” He stops to hear the cheers but only Kaya, Usopp’s girlfriend, gives him a loud wolf-whistle. “Our rookie/mascot Chopper and our own lovely girl.” He says your name and you're surprised to hear some catcalls as well. 

Wait, no Zoro? He managed to bail out of charity? How? 

“Nami, did the asshole get lost on the way here? Or you didn't sign him up for this?” You ask, curious. 

“Damn Zoro! He owes me so much money that I thought I could convince him to do this, but he had one favour to call, one measly favour! And he used it.” She seems genuinely pissed, and now you share the sentiment. Why didn't you have a favour to call? 

But then the auction starts, and the bidding for Nami goes crazy. Sanji wants to deck every guy that even dares to bid, so he ends up being the winner. No surprise there, he's been in love with Nami since they met. Robin’s bidding is pretty tame because she looks a bit intimidating, but Trafalgar Law, the med student, wins, and you smirk. You've been trying to set those two up for ages. Luffy's bidding goes crazy because Boa Hancock only wants to bid for Luffy, she says she doesn't want to babysit the two morons, but she manages to convince another two girls to bid with her, and they take home “the prize”

When your turn finally arrives, you sigh, wishing against all hope that whoever bids for you is not an asshole and that you manage to share some good conversation. 

The bids start small, like all night. The highest they went was 3,000 berries for Luffy –and the two morons– so if you make it to 1,000, you'll be happy to have contributed! You notice that rival frat boy Rob Lucci keeps bidding and eyeing you weirdly. Your stomach churns a little bit at the prospect of having to spend time with him, since you just rejected his date invitation last week. Seems like he didn't give up. 

“2,000 berries.” A gruff, familiar voice shakes your thoughts, making your heart pound. In anger. Obviously. 

It's freaking Zoro. Why the hell is he bidding for your company? Other than the fact that you hate each other, you live in the same house –hell, you live across from each other. 

Rob Lucci grunts and raises his arm. “3,000 berries.” What? That's how much Luffy and his brothers got. What's going on? 

“The fuck? 5,000 berries.” Zoro growls at Usopp as he approaches the stage. “And you better bang that damn hammer down, Usopp.”

You stare at Zoro, eyes wide and mouth open. Did he really just bid 5k for a night with you?

“It's a gavel…” Usopp starts and Zoro narrows his eyes at him. “Sold!”

-*-

What the fuck did he just do? Zoro wants to blame his lack of judgement on the booze, but he barely just made it to the party, he only had one beer. He hates you. He can't stand your insufferable ass. So why did he bid that much money on your company? 

Just to make her night miserable. 

He's trying to convince himself, but in reality, he couldn't stand the way the fuckers in the crowd were talking about you. About what they would do if they got your company, about what they would try to accomplish for a chance with you. 

That shit had made his blood boil and, suddenly, he couldn't stand the thought of any man being in your company. 

And then that fucker Lucci made his bid. And there was no fucking way he would get his hands on you, not if Zoro could help it. He’s a fucking creep. 

But damn. The look of incredulity on your face is driving him crazy. The way your brows raise, making your eyes shine brighter. The way your perfect lips curve downward in disappointment? Zoro snickers. Well, at least his stupidity managed to make you mad! 

“5,000 berries, Zoro?” The way your dress hugs your curves perfectly is doing things to him that he wishes to ignore. He hates your guts. You’re insufferable and annoying. And when you were little, you were such a menace to all of his toys and play swords, always breaking things and taking them out of place. He couldn't stand you! But that doesn't mean he doesn't have eyes on his face. You are stunning as hell. And your body always managed to burn desire into his veins. 

“And I would've paid more just to see that annoyed look on your face, Menace.” The way you purse your lips in rage is satisfying in more ways than one. “Now I can ruin your night. Look at how much fun that's going to be.”

“Fuck this. I'm out.” You turn your back on him, and he grunts, taking a step forward and grabbing your wrist. You stop suddenly, shaken by the same thing as him, for sure. The way a jolt of electricity burns through his veins, making his heart skip a damn beat. Shit. 

“You can't just say you're out. I paid for you.” Just ignore it. 

“Correction, asshole, you paid for my company, but, for you, my company is worth ten times more than that!” You jerk your arm away from him, and he seethes when you leave with stamping feet. But he doesn't follow you yet, especially because, by the way your hips are swaying, he much rather stay in this spot and take it all in. 

Damn it. He fucking loathes you. 

-*-

The fucking nerve! How could he? Damn Zoro! Came out of nowhere just to ruin your night. As if you'd spend your night hanging with him! Doesn't matter if he looks damn hot in his fitted dress shirt and jeans. Who cares? He's an asshole. 

Crap, you need a drink. 

You take a turn in the hallway to get back to the party instead of running away, as you were going to do, and run face-first into Rob fucking Lucci. 

“Hello, Doll.” He drawls out, and you grimace. The fuck? “All alone? Where's your buyer?”

A frown paints your lips at his lazy insult. Buyer? As if someone could own you. 

“Hi Lucci, I don't know, frankly, don't even care. Bye.” You shrug and move to pass by him and return to the party, but he blocks your way with his towering frame, a predatory smile haunting his lips as an unwilling shiver courses through your veins. 

“Leaving so soon?” Lucci takes a step towards you and you back off. “Stay a while, Doll, we can have fun.” Alarm bells sound in your head as you frantically look around and take another step back, hitting the wall. 

“I don't think so, Lucci. I'm going.” With a deep breath, you try to move past him, but he places one hand on your chest, above your breasts, and pushes you against the wall with a thud. 

“Is it money you want? Roronoa dropped 5k, but I wasn't willing to give more for charity.” His hand climbs until it's pressuring your neck, and you start to panic. The other hand slips beneath the strap of your dress and pulls on it until it breaks, almost revealing your breast. You open your mouth to scream, but he covers it. “I can give 5k just for you, if that's what you want. To be treated like a little whore.”

He barely finishes the word before a fist comes flying out of nowhere and decks him right on the nose. He grunts and falls down, freeing you in the process, and you gasp as you stare at Zoro's angry scowl. He's baring his teeth, body still angled from the force of the blow, heavy breaths making his shoulders heave. 

“The fuck did you just call her, you fucking asshole?” Zoro takes another step towards Lucci –who's bleeding from his nose and curling down on the floor– and kicks him in the stomach. “Better get the fuck out of my sight before I break more than your fucking nose.”

And to your surprise, he does. He gets up with a string of curses and just leaves. You're still leaning against the wall, a hand on your neck, soothing the pain from Lucci’s grip, and staring at Zoro. He defended you. He hates you. 

“You cool?” Zoro turns to you, an indecipherable expression on his face. 

“I'm fine.” You utter. Maybe you should thank him. 

“Next time don't indulge him.” He says with so much disdain that your shock wears off completely. 

“Excuse me? Indulge him? He fucking cornered me! And I didn't need your fucking help!” You take a step in Zoro's direction but quickly take another step back when he does the same to you, anger flaring in his eyes. 

“Didn't you, really?” He laughs right in your face, and his breath is warm and smells of alcohol and forbidden things. “The fuck is this, then?” He grabs the loose strap of your dress, and the smallest touch of his fingertips against your bare skin is enough to set it on fire. 

“I… It’s…”

“Just say thank you, Menace. It's not that hard! It's two fucking words.” He slams his hand against the wall beside your face. This close, you can almost feel the body heat coming from his chest, which he now has out for everyone to see since he unbuttoned half of his shirt. 

He's right. You should thank him. But it's a weakness you don't want to show him. 

“You want me to say two words?” He hums low and you can almost feel the vibration coming from his chest. You lean forward, your face mere inches from his, hatred burning so hot and fierce in your body that you can't even differentiate it from the desire you know you also feel, even if it kills you to admit it. Licking your lips, and rejoicing in the way his eye darts to them, you say with contempt, “Make. Me.”

You can almost sense the heat rising with the words you spoke. The tension crackles and burns, coiling around your bodies like a lithe snake. 

“You're fucking testing me right now.” His words burn straight into your core. How can you hate and, at the same time, want him so much? 

“All talk, no action, right? I'm familiar with your type.”

His smirk seems deranged, and damn if that doesn't make your panties soak. 

“What if I kissed you right now, Menace, would you stop me?” The velvet in his words almost makes your head spin. Would you? Stop him? Your eyes drop to his mouth, and you bite your lower lip in anticipation. 

Probably not. 

But he doesn't even let you answer, his smirk disappears as his eyes linger on your lips again. For a moment, you think he's going to do it, but then he leans back and lets out a dry laugh, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Got ya.”

Shit. You feel really dumb right now. You really thought he was going to kiss you. 

This is a very dangerous game you're playing right now. And you're done. “Thank you, for helping me.” You let out, slowly, before you push him and return to the party. 

-*-

“You're hiding from me, Menace. I paid for your company. Humour me.”

You did spend the last hour trying to avoid Zoro, because something stirred within you since he decked fucking Rob Lucci for your honour. As if you were a freaking damsel in distress. Fuck hormones, fuck primal desire for strong men, fuck fairytale movies, and fuck romance books. 

But in reality, all you really want is to fuck Roronoa Zoro. 

And that right there is why you need to stay the hell away from him. Because he's an asshole and you hate him. “Why do you hate Zoro?” Nami's words have been resounding in your head for the last hour and, frankly, you don't even know. It's just one of those certain things in life, like the sun rising and setting every day. The sun rises, you hate Zoro, the sun sets, you still hate Zoro. 

But why? 

“Well, I understand your need for my company, I'm great. But I realised that I get the short end of the stick in this deal. Your company sucks.”

He grins smugly and leans against the same wall you're leaning on. “You can bet that nothing about me is short, Menace.”

The blush that flushes your cheeks is completely involuntary, and you blame it on the solo beer you had one hour ago. You don't want to think about the thing that's not short on Zoro right now, thank you very much. 

“You're forgetting your temper. Your temper’s short.”

“Yet no disbelief about what I'm implying… Interesting.”

You scoff. “I'm actually a ‘I'll believe it when I see it’ kind of gal, but in this case, Roronoa, I'll take your word for it.”

This has got to be the most civil conversation you've had in years, even if it's full of innuendo and little jabs. What's changing? 

“You don't have to.” The red cup freezes on the way to your lips for a moment before you catch your breath. “I mean, I've got you all to myself. I can show you what else is big.”

Is he joking? You turn your face slightly to the side so you can glare at him and that infuriating smirk that usually makes your blood boil with anger is now looking devastatingly striking. 

“Jeez, Menace, wipe that hungry look from your face. I'm talking about my collector’s edition swords.”

Shit.

“Fuck you, Zoro.” 

-*-

The next half-hour is spent in your bathroom, slapping cold water on your face and giving your reflection a freaking pep talk. What the hell is wrong with you today? It's fucking Zoro! Insufferable Zoro! Hateful Zoro! 

Protective Zoro… Hot Zoro… 

The hell! Enough! 

You splash more water on your face, open the door, and abruptly leave your bedroom, only to bump into your second chest of the night. Maybe you should watch where you're going. 

“What are you doing here?” You both say, at the exact same time. “I was in my bathroom.” 

Shit! Zoro's room is across from yours, so it's pretty plausible that he was there. Your eyes search his face, and he looks a bit frazzled. There are still droplets of water around the edges of his hair which makes you wonder if he was doing the same thing as you were. 

But that has to mean that he's been feeling this weird too. 

“What if I kissed you right now? Would you stop me?”

Fuck. 

“God, I can't stand the sight of you, just go away, Zoro!” You say, anger boiling in your veins again, except this time, the anger is directed at yourself. 

“I thought we might have one night of normalcy around here, since I saved your ass from Rob Lucci’s stinking paws twice today! But nooo!” Zoro bares his teeth your way, and this right here, this feeling of hatred you're used to. It feels right. It's normal. You crave it. 

“Leave my ass out of your mouth, Zoro! My ass is just fine as it is!”

Zoro takes a stride forward, trapping you between his body and your bedroom door. 

“Your ass needs some spanking, that's what it needs!” You blush and part your lips in surprise, but you can't hide the hunger in your eyes at his words. His hands slam against the door beside your face and you bite your lip to suppress a very embarrassing moan of need. “You think you can behave like a little brat with me?” Zoro lans forward, his lips brushing your earlobe, and you struggle to breathe. “I just want to fuck that atitude right out of you, Menace.”

You swear your knees turn to jelly. Either that, or the heat pooling in your abdomen has completely leaked through your panties and drained you weak. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You want him. You need him. But you're not going to be easy. 

“I'd like to see you try, asshole.” You sounded convincing in your head, but to your ears, your voice came out so sultry that you might as well have said: oh, please take me mighty Zoro. 

Whatever got you laid right now. 

A dark flash of hunger passes through Zoro's eyes just before he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs hard. You keep your mouth firmly closed because there's no way you're going to easily let him indulge in your wanton moans. But fuck it, that felt good. 

Another second is all it takes before he leans down and takes your lips in his. The kiss is everything but gentle. It's hard, bruising, demanding. Full of hunger and burning flames, consuming everything in its path. He tugs your hair, you dig your nails into his shoulders; he bites your lip, you bite his tongue. It's a battle of wits and wills, and there's no way in hell you're losing this. 

Zoro's hand feels the door until it finds the doorknob and he turns it. Your weight was supported by the door, so you find yourself falling backwards, until Zoro's big hands clasp your ass, lifting you effortlessly from the ground and avoiding your fall. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you turn your moan into a rough grunt before it embarrasses you, because Zoro was right. He's not short on anything and his not-short-anything is pressed against your core, throbbing. 

“Fuck.” You mutter, involuntarily as you bite Zoro's lower lip hard, and he enters your bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. 

“I told you it was big.”

“Fucking showoff.”

He slaps your ass hard, making you gasp. And damn, you want him to do it again. “Language, Menace. Behave.” With a primal grunt that travels straight into your cunt, he slams you against the door, making you wince. Then he sets you down as his hands begin to fumble with the zipper on your dress. But he's impatient and horny, so he just rips it apart. 

“Shit! Asshole, that was one of my favourite dresses.” You admonish him between pants. That was freaking hot. His lips glue themselves to your neck, and he takes a hard bite. 

“Shut up, I'll buy you another one.” Then he starts to remove the shreds of the dress from you. 

“I'd like to know where all this money came from, you broke bastard.” You huff and rip the buttons off his shirt as payback for the dress. 

“Watch it!” He grumbles. But then clothes start flying. His jeans come off, and so does your bra. He doesn't give a shit about the way he rips your panties, and you just yank his briefs out of the way as well. Fuck it. You really got the long and thick end of the stick. 

“That's not going to fit.” You mumble, eyes wide and chest heaving. 

“Afraid, Menace?” He gloats with a hint of pride, and you scoff at him. 

“As if.” And then you're all over each other again. Teeth clacking against each other, lips bruising, and nails scratching. It's primal and raw, and everything you could want or need at this moment. 

With a swift movement, Zoro lifts you up mid-kiss and sends you flying into the middle of the bed. Your body may be bouncing on the bed, but your heart is hammering away in your chest. 

“Get on all fours.” He commands as he opens drawers, looking for a condom. 

“There.” You point at the dresser, and he follows your directions. “And fuck you. I don't take your orders.” You growl. 

Zoro grabs a condom from the drawer and paces to you in all his naked glory. The unhinged smirk on his lips both sends a cold shiver down your spine and feeds the burning flame in your core. 

He kneels on the bed next to you and flips you over as if you weighed nothing, manhandling you into the position he wants. You let out a yelp as your face gets buried against the pillows. Then his hands grab your hips and pull your ass into the air, leaving you bare and exposed for him. 

“Ass up, Menace. I want to take a good look at you.”

A rush of heat courses through your body and flushes your cheeks as you use your elbows to try to rise into a less undignified position, but Zoro grabs your arms and pins them behind your back. Then he lays out a good slap on your buttcheek, and you cry out in surprise. 

“I'm going to spank the little brat out of you in no time. I've had it with your attitude.” He growls, leaning over your back, and you can already feel slick coating your thighs. But you'll be damned if you're going to lose this unspoken battle of wits. 

“Do your worst, asshole.”

Zoro chuckles low and lands another slap on the other side. He doesn't ease the sting, he just lets it burn on the skin, but this time you don't make another sound other than your heavy breathing. 

“Look at you, all wet for me already. Aren't you a needy little thing? Pretending you don't want me, and now, look at you.” Zoro places two fingers inside your slit, and they slide right in. It feels so good you just want to explode. 

You force your eyes closed as you bite down on the pillow, trying to stifle your moans. You're not going to give him the satisfaction. 

“I know you want me. I know you're loving this, Menace. Look at how well you take my fingers.” He inserts a third finger, and you shudder. A rippling cry threatens to escape you, but you clamp it down tight. 

“You like this, don't you? You're just being too fucking stubborn to admit. But I've got all night, Menace. I can play with you. And once I'm finished, you'll be as docile as a little bunny.”

Zoro strokes your clit and circles it languorously. You're so wet that the squelches your pussy makes are embarrassingly unholy. Can you come without moaning loudly? Can you contain yourself? 

“Oh, God, fuck!” Zoro's tongue feels like nothing else. It's hot and long, and it curves just right as it enters you at the same time as he pinches your swollen nub. You almost unravel just from that. 

“There's no God here, little Menace. It's all me.” He speaks to your cunt, and you can't help another shudder and groan. Fuck it, you're about to come, and you don't care if you're going to moan your heart out. 

“I'm… almost…”

A ragged breath parts your lips before you drown it with a heavy groan and a curse. Zoro stops. 

“What the hell, Zoro?”

He turns you onto your back with a rough shove and stares at you with the biggest fucking shit-eating grin you've ever seen. 

“I want to hear you beg for release.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I am.” Zoro bends your legs and places the tip of his cock at your entrance, teasing you, taunting you. God, you want him inside you so badly. “Is this what you want?”

“Shit, yes, Zoro, just put it in.” Banging your fists in frustration against the bed only makes him smirk harder. 

“Make. Me.” He mimics your words from before, and you grit your teeth. The fucking asshole. Then you free your legs from his hold, grab his shoulders, and pull him down so you can take his lips in a bruising kiss, yanking his hair in the process and hooking your legs around his waist. 

With a movement of your hand, you align his tip with your hole, but as you're about to push your body against his, he places his hands on your hips and stills you, still taking your tongue against his mouth until you back away, gasping for air. 

“Fuck, Zoro!” You say, frustrated, and just as you're about to let out another string of curses, he thrusts all the way in, bottoming out and stealing all the air from your lungs. 

Your head falls back in abandon, and the first wanton moan escapes you unwillingly as your cunt fights to stretch and accommodate his size. 

“Menace! What the fuck. That fucking pretty noise. I want to hear it again.” His voice rings low and clipped. He's breathing hard, and his digits bruise the flesh of your hips. He thrusts again, but you keep your lips sealed, even though it's the best feeling in the whole world and you've never felt this full. “Moan for me. Break apart, little Menace. I'm going to fucking ruin you.”

He thrusts again and again and again. His hands grope and squeeze, and then they abuse your nipples, pinching and flicking and bringing you near insanity. You're there. Right there. You just need another–... 

“No! Zoro! Shit!” Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes as he stops once again, right when you're on the verge of climax. 

“Beg.”

“Fuck off.”

Zoro leans you to the side and slaps your ass again, making you curl your toes. “Beg.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

A whimper, the smallest of noises, leaves your mouth as you squirm under his hold. He's all the way inside you, but he's not moving. And it's torture. 

“Please…” You let out without looking him in the eyes. 

“Please what, Menace? I can't hear you.” He pulls out and fills you again, slowly, so, so slowly. “Have you lost all the fight in you?” 

“Fuck me, Zoro! Fuck me hard. Make me come, I need to come, please!” A litany of prayers and pleas leave your lips, and Zoro's smirk is smug, but there's a hint of something in his eyes very similar to warmth that you don't quite want to acknowledge. 

“That's my good girl.” He pulls you higher, hooking his hands under your ass and lifting it so he can fuck you with the perfect angle to hit your G-spot. And fuck it if he doesn't get it right as he resumes his thrusts. Two hard thrusts are all it takes before you lose yourself. 

Your thighs clench around him as you grip the sheets hard. A mountain of pleasure releases its avalanche upon you, and you moan and mewl without care or bother. Fuck it, you can beg Zoro all night if he makes you feel this good. 

“That's it, pretty girl. Let it all out for me.” Zoro rambles and picks up his brutal pace, flipping you over and raising your ass in the air again. Your brain is too addled and hazed to comprehend what's going on, and the ease with which he manhandles you makes you dizzy. “I want to hear it again.” 

He grunts as he pounds relentlessly into you, bruising your cervix and slapping your aching ass again. 

“Zoro! Yes, harder!” You can feel sweat in the palms of Zoro's hand as he slides one up your back, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you toward him. His other hand finds your oversensitive clit, and he pinches, making you come again and again. It's a relentless torrent of pleasure that makes you cry out his name between pants and moans. 

You barely notice as Zoro clamps down his teeth against your shoulder and shudders into his own release, squeezing you against him. Your bodies slick with sweat and limp with exhaustion. 

As you fall forward, struggling to regain your breath, Zoro gets up to rid himself of the used condom and opens your mini fridge, bringing a water bottle with him. He hands it to you before lying down with a sigh. 

What the fuck just happened?

“That was a good fuck, Menace.” He admits with another shit-eating grin. Hell yes, it was. He hit spots you didn't even know were possible to hit. You felt pleasure like never before, and damn it all, you might  be addicted with just the first hit of the drug that's Roronoa Zoro. 

“Shit, Zoro. If I knew you were this damn good, we could've been doing this for a while.”

He chuckles, and you laugh. This might be the first time you both shared a real laugh since you were kids. 

“Are you up for round two?” He asks, and you glance down. Sure enough, his monstrous cock is already saluting you in all its glory. 

“Hell yeah. You did pay for my company, Roronoa.”

What changed? Maybe you, maybe him? You can't be quite sure. But maybe it's not quite hate you feel about him at this moment. Because hate burns, but what you two have melts. It's deeper than that. 

And this time around, Zoro takes time to soothe the bruised skin of your hips with a little caress. He kisses the red welts he left on your ass cheeks, and his thrusts are less bruising and demanding.

What changed? 

Your feelings. That's what it was. 

Fuck.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @walmartmihawk

[grimmtells]

✦ Son of Magia Merline, the galaxy's most renowned mage, Ozwald serves wizardkind as their current archmage ever since the passing of his mother. Weilding her staff to carry on her legacy, it is his duty to preserve the Mastery of Magic and Alchemy. When the terrible Nightmare threatened the peace of the galaxy, the wizards joined the GSA alongside the ninjas in their quest to stop this great crisis. They fought together for years, but that was until the sudden treachery of the ninjas. The warriors of the shadows defected to the side of Nightmare, which dwindled the GSA's numbers considerably. Still, as low as morale was, they carried on. However, the war took a definitive turning point when Yamikage, the one responsible for the treason of the ninjas, snatched Ozwald away from the battlefield on the back of a fearsome dragon demon beast. Before the archmage disappeared, he called out to his kin and ordered them all to flee and never return. At this moment, none of them looked back, they listened to the orders of their archmage and deserted the battlefield, leaving the GSA behind. It was weeks later when Ozwald was seen again, but it was too late then ; he had fallen victim to Nightmare's influence. Many years after the Great War, on a faraway planet called Popstar, King Dedede noticed that Kirby seemed very confused about the magic tricks Tuff was performing. Without skipping a beat, he used his downloading system bought from Holy Nightmare Enterprise and demanded their best magic user. Ozwald was sent through, and gave chase to Kirby. After a tough fight, the young Star Warrior managed to break Ozwald's trance, letting him finally return to his senses. Ever since, the archmage has been residing in Castle Dedede, occupying the vacant top of a tower.

✦ Quick Overview ────────

✦ Voice Claim | Regular Voice / Spellcasting voice ✦ Likes | Reading, Cooking & Baking, Moonlit strolls & Stargazing, Lemons, Tea ✦ Dislikes | Hypocrisy, Disrespect/ Disdain against magic, Egotism

✦ Personality ───────────

• As unapproachable as he looks upfront, there is hardly sweeter than him. Ozwald is kind and patient, and he will engage in conversation with pretty much anyone, even Dedede. • While Ozwald believes that a certain degree of sterness is required to properly teach the youth, he also believes that being too harsh and demanding will not serve any purpose. He prefers to teach with rewards, and attempts to make any topic interesting to get the attention of easily distracted children like Tuff, who usually dislike learning "boring stuff". • Ozwald is extremely forgiving, perhaps to a fault, some might think. But he says himself that as a man who has committed one of the greatest sins against his comrades (abandoning them), he does not get the luxury to be critical of what is done to him. • Ozwald is very doting with children. He does not necessarily want a family of his own, but he does have a strong sense of paternality in him. • Old man rambles a lot. He's got a fondness for discussions around magic and any topics he enjoys, but quickly finds himself talking at length until he gets nervous that he might be bothering his interlocutor. • Ozwald has an easygoing sense of humour, while he does not hold grudges, he is not above using previous events as ammo to tease someone. • Ozwald gets quite competitive with games of any kind and events putting him against other people/teams. He's a bit of a sore loser, but he tries to hide it !

✦ The Mark of Merlin ────

(Will have a more in-depth post TBA) As stated above, the Mark of Merlin is the physical manifestation of Magic's acceptance of their new protector. The bearer of the Mark harnesses the Will of Magic and is extremely powerful. The bearer of the Mark possesses one very special ability that is only to be used as their utmost last resort if they haven't yet found their successor.

✦ The Wizarding Society ───

(will be moved to its own post soon enough) • Although some wizards make an exception of this, they typically live on the "Observatory", which is a huge academy/library-like structure that floats throughout space. Wizards as a society and not simply magic-using peoples are pretty private and keep to themselves. • Whilst a staff or wand are important to channel their magic, wizards that are comfortable and skilled enough with it can perform spells without a vessel, simply using their hands. Enunciating spells is, in most cases, mandatory, but simpler spells like practical ones to make things float can be performed non-verbally. • Most wands and staves are made of metals like gold, silver, bronze and the like. Only very old wizards continue to use wooden staves. Ozwald, despite being more in touch with the newer generations of wizards, keeps his wooden staff because it was his mother's, and it will not break as easily as wood, because of the enchantments she had imbued into it. • As was the duty of the late Merline, wizards continue to observe the cosmos and planets to make sure everything is in order. While they don't tend to intervene ever since the Great War, wizards will warn planets if danger is upon them. • Wizards come in all races, shapes and sizes, but the most common ones are simirrors and waddle doos. Ozwald himself is a simirror. • The Observatory has many protection wards around it, along with the ability to become completely transparent, hiding itself and the wizards inside it. • The Observatory is capable of creating dimentional rifts to fast-travel around the galaxy. Ever since the Great War, wizards have been very careful about using this travel method, as dimentional rifts cause a very high, dense residual activity around the targeted areas, which can easily alert Nightmare of their location since he currently has dominion over most of the galaxy. • Merline is the original architect and creator of the Observatory. It was created as both a safe haven for wizards, but a place to protect the Knowledge and Mastery of Magic from falling into the wrong hands. It was her domain of planetary surveillance as well, when she used to watch over the cosmos on her own.

✦ Height Comparison ────

Ozwald is around four kirbies tall, which translates to 110 cm in this specific case.

✦ Facts ────────────

• Ozwald has a younger sister, her name is Winnie (Link to her ref TBA). • He has backpains, because Old. He gets very cranky they start acting up, and unfortunately tries to avoid relying too much on potions to soothe them. • He's a tea-drinker over coffee all the way. • He loves playing boardgames ! Always a good time between friends. • He's got quite the astrology/astronomy knowledge. • Ozwald is very adept at Offensive magic and Defensive magic, but also Supportive magic. During the Great War against Nightmare, him and most wizards were very important assets of the GSA, able to ward of most demon beasts, aside from those with magic resistance. • Ozwald and wizards as a whole do not really have mana. However, using magic, especially strong spells, for long periods of time can tire and wear them out. Ozwald can perform non-verbal and staffless magic. • He only has one eye ; he lost his other eye during the war after a certain treacherous ninja threw a kunai at him. He tends to hide it from people who aren't used to "gore", not to mention that he feels it to be a tad unsightly. If he feels comfortable enough with someone though, he may unhide his scar.

(Sidenote : i'd like to add things like the observatory and Winnie to his info sheet, but it's already me taken me long enough to get this done so i'll add those later !)

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being An Assassin Who Joins The team

A/N: I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA :D I have so many ideas attached to it, so many posts brewing, so I really hope you like it!!! I kinda think of it similar to Red Room from MCU and also the Aunts from The Handmaid's Tale, if that makes any sense lol. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher likes you. He sees the emotion you evoke from the rest of the team and he thinks you're a perfect fit. You're not sure what to think of him. If he was one of your siblings, he wouldn't have lasted long. Selfish, arrogant, self-righteous. That's the kind of thing that got you punished, that got you killed. Beneath it though, to a degree, you can tell he really cares for everyone. It might be twisted and warped and at this point unrecognizable, but it was there. He enjoys hearing about your kills, especially when it was Supes. You weren't just good at what you did, you were the best. You were creative, too. Imaginative. He brags to you about killing Translucent, how they did it. You're not terribly impressed, but for his benefit you put on a show. You're a little weird, but he likes that. You're except in some areas (like going undercover) and mediocre in others (like figuring out how to befriend Hughie). He doesn't judge what you've done. It's just how you were raised. He tries to do a background check on you, but there's nothing. The name your mentors gave you wasn't the one your parents, if there even were parents, gave you. You were a blank slate. It was both riveting and terribly dangerous.

Hughie has the most questions. He can see just from your appearance, all the scars on your face and neck, all the ones he can't see, that you've been to hell and back. You hold yourself rigid, tight. Even when you seem relaxed you aren't. You're constantly looking for the nearest exit or weapon, scanning every room you walk into. It spooks him a little. He lets his imagination get the better of him, something he knows he shouldn't do, but just can't help it. You like Hughie instantly. And not just because he's too awkward and frail to get in a proper punch, too soft to ever truly hurt you. He seems sweet, naive, like he needs protecting. He reminds you of the kids in the program who didn't make it. You protected them, too. Or, at least tried to. You're as friendly as you let yourself, taking an interest in whatever he's doing, becoming his shadow. Everyone takes notice, but he doesn't seem to mind. He likes your company. The rest of the team hopes you'll open up to him, tell him what you won't tell everyone else, but he refuses to pry. If you talk, that's great. If not, oh well. If you want to hang out by his side, that works too.

Annie has nothing against you, but you definitely keep your distance, especially at first. You've killed more than enough Supes to prove your competency, more than you can name. You're not sure what they tell each other, but you imagine it similar to the system you grew up with: word spread quickly, you all felt it when one of your own were killed. There was an alliance that went unsaid. If you could avenge your fallen siblings, you would. If she found out who you killed, how many, would she come after you? Eventually you learn they're not all connected like that, that Annie's on your side. Still, you kind of see her as the embodiment of everything you're not. She's sweet, caring, and honest. You've been lying all your life, you can't tell what's real and what isn't. Hughie likes her, loves her, so that definitely helps in developing your relationship. Annie knows about your past, what little you share of it, but she doesn't judge. Maybe, at a time, she would have, but after being part of The Boys so long, that kind of thing kind of loses its shock power. You did what you had to, what you were trained to. Weren't you all guilty of a version of that?

M.M., similar to his initial feelings about Kimiko, isn't too fond of you. He doesn't mean to judge as harshly as he does, but just by the looks of you, you mean trouble. Hughie tries to talk to him, but he just can't get past your quirks. You're so naive about certain things (what music you like to listen to, shows you've never seen, how to form normal friendships, what jokes are funny) and so knowledgeable about other things (the fastest way to bleed out a man, how to make a murder look like a suicide, the amount of languages you were taught to better go after your targets). It just doesn't sit right with him. Knowing this, sensing this, you keep your distance, knowing not to further upset him similar to how your mentors were. Be invisible to him, them. It isn't until you give him sound advice for protecting Monique and Janine, something he never would have thought of, does he reconsider his feelings. He's still not a big fan, but he can see why you belong on the team, why your skills are beneficial, even if some of the stuff you say so lightly gives him the heebie jeebies, like the time you reminisced about killing someone with just a wooden spoon.

Frenchie doesn't really see you as an assassin. They've all killed people, it didn't seem like such a big deal. He doesn't love the idea of you being around Kimiko. She's made a life for herself beyond what she's gone through. It feels like you're still learning how to be without it. Without your mentors, your siblings. He knows there's no one better to give you a chance than him, so he's very open, inviting. You talk to him exclusively in French. You tell him small parts of your past, and he's grateful for that. In return, he tells you about his own childhood. When he shares the scars from his father, you tell him about the ones on your face and neck, how you deserved them for disobedience. He doesn't tell anyone else, knowing it was only meant for him to hear. You even speak affectionately about your mentors, the ones who were kind and only hurt you when you needed it. He wasn't shocked, at least not outwardly, not wanting you to feel strange or odd. Because you don't speak French with an accent, it's hard for him to decipher where you're from. All over, you say, and though you know it's a non-answer, it's the truth. You've been all over the world. You just happened to end up in New York.

Kimiko becomes your friend immediately. Though you gravitate towards Hughie because he's sweet, you like Kimiko because you can tell you're very similar. She doesn't have to say anything, you just know. You recognize the signs. The rest of the team doesn't think it's a great idea, you are alone with her, namely Frenchie. When you aren't cold and standoffish, you're far too casual about what you've done, pointing to old movies with famous Supes back in the day or old politicians, reminiscing how you killed them, made it look like a suicide. Or you talk about growing up, how you were punished for crying even when your friends were killed, pointing out the scars they left. She's not upset by it, she's glad you're talking about it. It makes her upbringing feel normal. You learn sign language quickly, another language you can add to your list, telling her more than anyone else. In return you listen to her, whatever she wants to share, grateful for someone who doesn't look at you like a monster or a freak. You like listening to her go on about Frenchie, her feelings for him. It's a piece of childhood you never got to take part in. It's nice.

[nonsensefromtheabyss]

Alastor Analysis

(Throwing my hat into the ring because the smiley fucker has me in a headlock. Warning; long and potentially insane. God I hope the cut works.)

I think something significant is gonna go down with Alastor in the next few episodes. I think the man is slipping.

Something that sticks out to me on rewatch is that Husk isn’t worried by the lights flickering or Alastor’s voice changing (the usual signs of him getting vicious.) He doesn’t look scared when the collar appears; his initial order of reactions actually goes ‘surprised’, ‘bitch please’, and then he starts doing damage control. It takes Alastor pulling on the chain to make him stop and actually look at how angry the overlord actually is. It says a lot to me that Husk’s first reaction is to be pissed off. He looks like he’s recognising that his bitchy demon master isn’t going to take any advice and he’s gonna be made to back off—and he’s angry about that. 

To detail, the fact that he approaches Alastor directly with his concerns and not Charlie (you know; the all-powerful, hotel owning, hell princess whose daddy’s in town), and puts the focus on him possibly getting into trouble means that Husk did all this out of a sense of concern or compassion. Husk isn’t acting purely in the interests of the hotel here, he’s trying to protect Alastor. This is a genuine offer of advice being thrown in Husk’s face for no apparent reason beyond arrogance; he has every right to be pissed off, and he is. He’s angry with Alastor and he shows that even as he’s shutting up. Angry, not scared.

Husk bitching about Alastor isn’t unusual. He cares enough to try and help the bastard out. The way he interacts with the conversation initially indicates to me that means he normally feels safe enough to do things like this. He’s comfortable calling his master out. He’s doing his best to stop Alastor making some kind of mistake. He is trusted with the information that Alastor isn’t a free man himself. When the chain appears, he’s frustrated, he cedes ground… but he isn’t scared. 

I don’t think Alastor manifesting Husk’s chains is unheard of in their relationship—Alastor’s a mean bitch who only tolerates a little bit of poking before he snaps—but I do think that the pulling of that chain is usually as bad as it gets. That’s the point where Husk stops talking but hasn’t started looking worried yet. Husk was probably fully expecting that being knocked to the floor would be the end of the matter. 

He’s scared—the most scared we’ve ever seen him—only after Alastor goes Radio Demon on him, and that’s why I think it’s something he’s never had happen before. Husk wasn’t expecting that degree of reaction at all. And I think it’s a sign that Alastor is starting to lose it.

We know the smile is fake. We know it’s a form of self-imposed self-discipline that’s as rigid as it is insane. And we now have it confirmed that Alastor has some pretty aggressive insecurities that are eating away at him behind the facade. Last time he was seen as ‘less than’ he slaughtered hide way to the top of the Pride Ring

Going episode by episode, there’s a subtle pattern of Alastor getting progressively more snubbed, which isn’t really what you expect when you’re introduced to the character in the Pilot. Vaggie describes him as someone of almost mythic power and, even with Angel’s levity and irreverence, that’s the impression that sticks, cemented by the way he takes out Sir Pentious. You get an immediate impression of what Alastor was like at the very top of his game.

You know: before the Seven Year Absence.

In the first episode, there’s the advert. The video advert. It’s all played for jokes (as it should be) but if you look at it as a first domino it makes sense. It’s our reintroduction to Alastor as a character: he’s made a terrible, unhelpful tv commercial and the ‘good’ one (we never get to see) was made with significant help. He clearly loathes having to do it, and he’s clearly got no real skill in it (if he did, he’d be showing off because he’s unbearably vain, you all know this is true.) He’s out of his element and he’s not adjusting quickly enough; people don’t know him from the radio anymore because Vox has the monopoly in entertainment.

Speaking of, in the Second Episode, we get Vox, aka the first and only person who gives a damn where deer boy went. Vox gives this shit by playing dress up and writing a diss track which Alastor immediately co-opts to make him rage quit. The song slaps—Alastor’s part in the song slaps… but it’s worth pointing out that Vox is the only person shown caring that The Radio Demon is back; the other two V’s are mildly entertained because they have renewed lease to absolutely dunk on Vox, and, while the crowds are drawn to the radio, they don’t look… bothered. There’s no big reaction of ‘dear god, it’s him (the deer god)’. Granted, we don’t see their response to the threat, but tbh if any radio threatens you with a return to The Bad Old Days the only honest reaction is to be a little scared, you don’t need to be in Hell for that.

In any case, regardless of how much he sucked at it, Vox still felt confident enough to make his little coping track public in the first place. He felt certain enough about Alastor’s lack of standing to make his own insecurities into a musical. The cultural idea of Alastor and his mythos has degraded enough for people to take potshots and then broadcast those potshots for funnsies. It’s pretty far from where we started in the Pilot with Vaggie not even wanting him past the door.

Third Episode… people of the conference room, please raise your right hand if you care why this staticky twink has been gone for seven years. *cue the deafening silence of no hands being raised*

Alastor is shut down and dismissed entirely in front of every other overlord at once, and it happens without consequence. He can’t do dick. He can’t play up the mystery, or draw them in to his narrative, or do anything to take control of the room. No one asked, no one cares. The meeting (which, if Carmine’s surprise at seeing him there is any indicator, he might not have even been directly invited to) moves on. I’m almost certain that the only reason he played coy with Zestial was because he thought he could have that Moment with everyone there and listening. He wants so desperately to be listened to.

We know that the hierarchies in Hell are less about who could actually make you eat concrete and more a popularity contest. That’s made explicitly clear in the first episode with low level sinners tearing strips off of Charlie, and clearer still in Helluva Boss where Stolas gets disrespected by the whole club for his messy personal business—in song form. And what I’ve not actually seen anyone else talking much about is how Alastor may be a very physically powerful demon but he’s getting no respect from any of his old peers. Sure, maybe the masses are spooked, but it’s not to the point where it’s making anyone else lose their chokehold. The people huddled around his radio still flick their eyes back to Vox’s screens when he talks. The egg boys ask him inane personal questions the same way they would anyone else. His own peers neither respect him nor care that he’s come back. Nobody has shown (positive) interest in the hotel now that it’s his personal enterprise.

We’re told the time skip was five months. We have no idea if things have changed in those five months, but Alastor starts Episode 5 palpably agitated. I’m guessing things didn’t go up for him. I’m guessing that it’s setting in for him that this is the vibe now, and the only person who actually thinks him untouchable is, well, him.

Add Lucifer. Suddenly, his business partner might not actually need him at all, either as help or an emotional connection, because she can replace them with her father, the actual king of Hell, who doesn’t like him; there’s an infinitely more powerful and capable demon in what is functionally Alastor’s home; said powerful demon has no fucking clue who Alastor even is, the role he plays, or the effort he’s invested (regardless of reason) into Charlie’s project, and there is no Alastor Approved way of making any respect happen on that front. As far as he’s concerned, he’s looking at a brick wall with FUCK YOU PERSONALLY graffitied on it.

Regarding the songs with Alastor in them, both of them are serving two purposes; the first is to piss off someone who slighted him, but I think the second is to reassert to everyone present his importance specifically after an instance of them forgetting. With Vox the primary objective is roasting the other overlord into shut down and the secondary is warning everyone listening that he’s still a viable threat despite what they just heard. With Lucifer, the first goal is to piss harder than the devil, but the second is reminding Charlie that he’s important and he has a place with them. Little as he’d like to admit it, it’s two cases of Alastor demanding a return to the way things usedto be. He wants to be the most terrifying thing on the wavelengths by default, and is willing to short out the power supply to all Hell to get that; he wants to be valued so much by the people around him that the most important man in Hell can’t just supplant him by being there. Obviously it doesn’t work out like that, but a self-absorbed nightmare man can dream.

And then Husk brings up the idea that he might be vulnerable on top of All That. It’s the final straw. He has spent the last few episodes very subtly scrabbling for a shred of acknowledgement and his bitch ass is getting none. 

Mimzy, if I’m allowed to speculate a little, is deliberately thrown into the mix at this juncture because of how she relates to Alastor in juxtaposition to the damage his seven year absence and unspecified deal has done to his reputation; she wants to hide behind his coattails because he’s the big, scary Radio Demon who can protect her from anything, because who in their right mind would cross him? She’s literally a part of his old life. She’s reacting to him the way everyone did seven years ago—with complete and total faith in his ability to be an unholy monster at a moment’s notice.

Being told ‘hey, maybe she’s in deeper shit than you can shovel because someone’s tying your hands’ is, to Alastor, just another snub in a long, illustrious line, and this time it’s personal because it’s coming from Husk. It’s not just a newly popular medium he’s no good with, or Vox with his haterection, or a meeting he can’t derail with his personal life, or a boardroom full of equals he newly means nothing to—it’s his own people thinking he’s not capable anymore. And Husk is happy to say that with literally the most powerful man in Hell right there for comparisons in inadequacy. Going full dial eyes on him isn’t just an over-vicious retaliation, it’s a demonstration and reminder of what Alastor is capable of… and it’s probably done for himself as much as it’s about putting Husk back in his place. 

Because that’s what Alastor used to be able to do; make all the other overlords cower on their knees at his feet while he regaled them with all the ways in which they could fuck off. 

Seven years of possibly not entirely voluntary absence… and this is the closest to that he can get. A guy whose soul he owns, who will be back to snarking in a few days time, having to be dragged into prostrating himself on the carpet. One of the few people who inexplicably give a shit about him promising to shut up only on pain of death.

And at the end of the episode everything he’s done means nothing and he has to tell Mimzy to leave anyway… and he’s subdued and uncomfortable about it. She’s his friend, one of the few people willing to tolerate him, and apparently one of the last people to share the perception he has of himself… and he has to tell her to go because the reality is that he, for whatever reason, is not making choices which are entirely his own. The reality is that Husk may be right; Alastor’s grip on everything and everyone around him is, for a variety of reasons, not as strong as it used to be. The guy is unravelling behind the mask; he’s insufferably proud and it’s starting to strangle him.

The point of all this is, there’s a pattern of escalation here. I think Alastor is out of his depth and it’s going to start showing. I think he’s going to make some sort of desperate bid for control to get his standing back. I think he’s going to have to reckon with his own disappearance. And… I don’t think it’s gonna be pretty.

TLDR: My Beloved is a time bomb and him dominating Husk was just the alarm going off. I believe this with my whole heart because of Reasons.

(Side note: I think it’s been sidelined and/or cut due to season constraints and the show being rushed to shit by production, but I do believe Charlie and Al must have some kind of bond. It’s been five months of living together and she doesn’t turn around and refute his claims or even look surprised by them, which implies to me that the events are true if not the presentation. Obviously the girl’s got daddy issues and Al doesn’t actually see her as a daughter, but I really don’t think that equals ‘there’s no fond feelings here at all.’ Plus everyone else is there watching their nonsense; while Alastor has 0% shame, I’m pretty sure someone else (Vaggie) would have something to say if him claiming affection for Charlie was as left field for them as it was for us. Really wish we had more time for relaxed character interactions to let dynamics breathe, there was such potential in HH’s concepts but I feel like we’re skipping whole chunks. I want the dumb beach episode, you know?) 

[radioactive-earthshine]

Inflicting myself some psychic damage thinking about how Don grew up without a father, and how terribly he missed a father he never got to know, and how he and his sister Dawn always felt a void not knowing Barry, because he died so everyone might live and how when Don eventually had a son, our dearest Bart, he might have promised him that he would never grow up up not knowing his father and all his wishes that Bart have loving family where he could be free to use his powers and be loved loved loved, and instead he ended up dying himself not unlike his own father, but also vastly different because he was murdered by his father-in-law, and as a result Bart instead lost everyone and had to flee his birth time as a refugee and was shuffled from foster home to foster home where everyone he bonded with he either couldn't live with or they died. Never understood wholly, stuck in a cyclone of ableism and varying degrees of bullying where the love was just barely enough and it very frequently was almost not.

Don was a terribly lonely child growing up with his twin, taught to constantly conceal his powers and keep his head down low and raised on stories and pictures of a father he never knew - how ironic that Bart too in some ways mirrors that (but worse) and how much Don might have wanted to spare Bart from anything resembling that.

Anyway, read Impulse 1995 folks!

[wolfjackle-creates]

For the ask game, can I request the Bad reveal AU? That's the one where Danny finds out about Bruce being Batman and freaks out right?

Ha! Yes it is! Finally something I can just toss a snippet at!

I've got a decent amount written for this. However, I switched over to Dick's POV so it's been challenging. (First time writing from him.)

I also was trying to keep it short when...the story doesn't want to stay short. So I'm rewriting it. Which is taking longer than I'd like because I've got an action scene in this one and I'm terrible at writing action scenes. (Which means I need to write more of them, I know.) So I'm taking my time trying to make it good.

Chapter 1

1.4k words (okay, so more than a snippet.)

---

As soon as the laser left Danny’s weapon, Dick sprinted towards his brother. But before he could get more than a few yards, Danny disappeared. Into the cave wall.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, but changed course to check on Bruce.

Tim and Damian continued on, rushing to the wall.

Duke was kneeling by Bruce’s side and trying to keep him from getting up to search as well.

“Where’s Danny?” demanded Bruce.

“B, lay back down,” ordered Dick. “Danny’s gone. Apparently, he can density shift.” He couldn’t quite keep the hysteria out of his voice and Bruce’s frown deepened. “But Tim and Damian are checking the cave wall to see if he left any clues behind.”

Of course, his words only made Bruce struggle even harder to get to his feet. Duke could do nothing against a determined Batman.

“You have to let us look at your leg, B,” said Dick, pushing him back down with Duke.

Bruce glared at him. “I have to find Danny.”

Duke snorted. “How do you expect to be able to do that? He literally disappeared into the ground. Along with his suspected power of invisibility? Where do we start?”

Bruce slumped at Duke’s words and Dick used the chance to examine his leg. Danny’s weapon hit him in the upper thigh and his pants were half burned, half melted into the wound. The injury itself was about six to eight inches in diameter and the center was absolutely a third degree burn.

“Besides, Bruce. You really can’t walk on this. Third degree burns and we’ll have to get Alfred—or maybe even Leslie—to debride it.” He looked around to check on everyone else.

Tim and Damian were still by the wall where Danny had disappeared, but Jason was standing nearby frozen.

“Jason,” called out Dick, “can you get Alfred? I have to cut off Bruce’s pants so we can actually get to the wound.”

Jason seemed to shake himself and when he looked at Dick, his eyes were a bright green. Instinctively, Dick shifted until he was crouching more protectively over Bruce. Jason’s eyes narrowed and he sneered. “What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do to him?”

Dick glared right back. “Just get Alfred.”

With a huff, Jason turned. “Whatever.” But he did take the elevator up, allowing Dick to relax.

“Duke, could you get a pair of shears and a kit from the medbay?”

“You’ve got it.” He rushed off.

“B, how’s the pain?”

Bruce grit his teeth as he finally let himself look down at the injury. “I’ve had worse.”

Dick only had time to roll his eyes before Duke was back with the supplies. He took the special scissors designed to cut through their uniforms gratefully. “Thanks. Gonna start cutting off your pants, now.”

Before he finished, Tim and Damian were back. “How is Father?”

“Nasty burn,” replied Dick.

“I’ll heal,” said Bruce at the same time.

“Yep,” agreed Dick. “We’ll wait for Alfred or Leslie to look over it to say for sure, but so long as it doesn’t get infected, I expect he’ll make a full, if slow, recovery.”

Damian gave a curt nod.

“Far as we can tell,” said Tim, “Danny really did density shift through the wall. There’s absolutely nothing unusual about the place he was standing. No hidden crevices or passages.”

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. “We’ll have to go over everything we have on his former life.”

“And research the things he referenced just now,” added Tim.

Alfred and Jason returned just as Dick finished cutting as much fabric away from the injury as possible and he happily seceded his place.

He clicked his tongue. “Master Danny did this?”

Damian nodded. “After everything Father has done for him, he chose to attack him in his own home.”

Jason snorted. “We all know it wasn’t that simple.”

Damian didn’t say anything, but did look away. Clear admission of guilt from him.

Alfred cleared his throat and everyone fell silent. “What sort of weapon did he use?”

Jason shrugged. “He had some sort of silver energy weapon. Not a design I’ve ever seen before. It shot a Lazarus-green beam.”

Alfred hummed. “Well, the injury looks normal enough. Second and third degree burns. But Master Timothy, I’d like you to run tests on the tissue to make sure we’re not missing any sort of contamination from the unknown weapon.”

“Course, Alfred. I can do that.”

“Do we know where Master Danny may have gone?”

Duke shook his head. “He density shifted through the cave wall. Pair that with his suspected invisibility and how little we know about his life before joining us…”

Alfred nodded. “Very well. Masters Jason and Dick, please help me move Master Bruce into a bed. The rest of you can begin searching for more information while I clean his wounds.”

Tim barely waited for Alfred to finish speaking before he was booting up the batcomputer. “I’ll inform Oracle, Black Bat, and Spoiler about the situation!” he called out over his shoulder.

Jason clearly wasn’t happy about having to carry Bruce, but not even he would argue with Alfred when one of his charges was injured. Though both of them left the instant Bruce was settled with promises to keep him informed as to how the search for Danny was going.

“So what do we know?” Dick asked as soon as he joined the others.

“Precious little,” admitted Tim.

Jason snorted. “Someone wants to cut our baby brother open and we don’t know a damn thing? What sort of detectives are we?”

Damian tutted at him. “Daniel indicated they would do the same to you, too.”

Dick looked up at the ceiling as he remembered the confrontation. “What was it he said? ‘They won’t care you’re more alive than dead’?”

Jason shifted his weight. “How much do you think he knows? He clearly just learned about our identities recently.”

Duke bit his lip. “He skipped school today. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Damian nodded. “But he appeared normal last night while preparing for bed.”

Tim hummed. “So he learned something last night.” Then his eyes widened. “Shit. Damian, we were talking in the kitchen after patrol. Do you think he might’ve overheard?”

“He does move silently. We would not have heard him if he did not wish us to.”

Dick closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Okay, what do we know about his abilities? He demonstrated density shifting today and we suspect invisibility.”

“He can move silently,” added Damian. “Cassandra is the only one who can reliably detect him when he does not wish to be detected.”

“And even she has been surprised by him on occasion,” said Bruce.

“Empathy,” added Jason.

Dick wasn’t the only one to stop and stare at that addition. “Uh… what are you talking about? He hasn’t shown any sort of empathy.”

Jason laughed for a moment, only stopping when no one joined in. “Oh, come on. He always knows whether you need space or want someone to stick around for a bit. And he can, like, send out a calming aura or some shit. Kid’s relaxing to be around.”

Dick opened and shut his mouth. “Huh. I haven’t noticed anything like that from him.”

Tim, Duke, and Damian agreed with Dick.

“Quit messing with me,” Jason said, flipping them off. “It’s true.”

Tim cocked his head. “Do you think that’s why he was most surprised by you? Are the two of you similar in some way? And that’s why you get the empathy sense from him?”

“‘More alive than dead,’” repeated Jason. “Would that have something to do with it?”

Tim hummed. “He mentioned his parents…” he trailed off before he could repeat Danny’s statements about his parents.

Dick nodded. “We’ll get Babs to take another look into them while you analyze B’s injury for potential contaminants. Jay, you and I can go through his room.”

Damian snorted. “With Father out of commission, someone needs to go on patrol.”

Dick cursed. “What time is it?”

“It is ten thirty.”

“Fine. You and I can patrol. I’ll take the cowl.”

Jason groaned. “And there’s some thing I have to take care of in Crime Alley.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “We’ve got the plans for tonight. Tim, you check my wound for foreign contaminants from the unknown weapon. Batman and Robin will patrol the city; Red Hood will be out in Crime Alley. Oracle will look into the Fenton parents. Duke, you’ll get to bed early. Tomorrow after a rest we will search Danny’s room more thoroughly.”

Everyone present voiced their acceptance, though with more grumbles than normal.

-----

Next

So yeah. That's how the next part starts.

[future-island-egghead]

Man I have so many thoughts on the Seraphim and since it's been over a year since their introduction I've had a lot more of them but overall I kinda.. feel bad for them, more than anything else?

No matter how powerful or scary or cool they are, one thing always remains the most important and unforgettable aspect of them.

They're sentient. They're sapient. They're aware and alive. They're people.

Not just people. But children.

They're just children.

And they have to grapple with being the crossover of two terrible things to be.

A clone of someone else, who's life has already been lived and decided by their own terms, and forced to follow it to the letter, and having no fundamental identity independent of them. only footprints of memories that aren't even their own, purely for the purpose of making them better fighters. How can they be anything more than simple variations or derivatives of "real" people? Can they even consider themselves "real"?

A pacifista. A human weapon. No agency. No humanity. Stripped of everything from will to dreams to freedom to even self-expression and forced to follow commands and never ask questions. Like a soldier. Like less than a soldier. Like a tool.

Like a gun.

Vegapunk said that Kuma's lack of free will would force him to obey, even if they asked him to murder a child. But he originally had free will to begin with. Kuma's life as PX-0, a sentient being with no will of his own, nothing more than a passenger in his own body is a nightmare. S-Bear has known nothing but that nightmare since birth.

People said that Doflamingo was born evil, but in reality, his life was shaped by the events he lived through more than anyone in-universe wants to admit. I wonder how S-Flamingo must feel, forced to carry on Doflamingo's legacy as a monster to the core, regardless of how monstrous he himself might or might not be. i wonder if the pressure of being the clone of a demon will cause a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Hancock's worldwide status was one even she did not want. It was a curse she herself learned to turn into a weapon. S-Snake does not even get the privilege of encountering OR weaponizing the curse herself. Already forced into the limelight without warning, and the eyes won't leave. Everyone already treating her like a celebrity, without a chance to even know what it was like to be a person first.

All she can do now is follow the same government that traumatized her origin and forced her to destroy her home.

Similarly, what of S-Hawk? Moreso than any seraph, any creation of the World Government, surely all eyes are on him to succeed. to be the strongest of the Seraphim and a symbol of total global safety. The world's strongest swordsman, new and improved, right? And what if he isn't? What if he's not as strong as Mihawk? What if he never is? What if he can't do it?

And what if he does? What if he ends up even worse than his origin: a bored god sitting on an empty throne with an empty title, with no one left to challenge him?

Jinbei wanted nothing in the world more than discrimination towards Fish-Men and Merfolk to end, to the degree he'd stake his life on it without hesitation. I wonder how S-Shark, a tool of the World Government, partly born from a race nearly extinguished by them, and forced to uphold their fascist, discriminatory rule against his will feels.

If Crocodile's secret is indeed his transgender identity, then what does that mean for S-Croc? At least Crocodile got the opportunity to keep it under wraps, even if some people do know. S-Croc will never get that opportunity, ever. the whole world on him from birth. Will they even let him be.. him? or will they force him to live in a body and identity that not only isn't even his own, but isn't anybody's at all?

and if it isn't, sure! I suppose he won't have to worry about that. but what of his intelligence? his own ambitions? It's said that Crocodile's greatest attribute was his mind, but the seraphim aren't allowed to break from the orders of others or formulate strategies, so S-Croc would be forced to take orders from people less experienced or intuitive. The footprints of a forgotten dream of wealth, fame, power, and freedom still sputter in his chest. A natural-born leader, forced into the role of lowly weapon, emptily paraded as a hero. How pitiful.

And S-Gecko? Always the runt. The last one. The weakest of the bunch. The world government never cared enough to hide their disdain and contempt for Moria. I can't imagine this won't bleed into how they treat S-Gecko. No matter how hard he works, being treated as nothing more than the worst of the best. Being equated to nothing but failure because his origin was one and constantly put down as "obligatory" and only existing at all because they couldn't get a better warlord to clone instead. Sure, he's not traumatized by the loss of his crew like Moria was.

But at least Moria had a crew.

The Seraphim are scary, and they're powerful. They're not naturally-born organisms, and they're programmed to follow the words of the World Government, even if told to kill in cold blood.

But they're still people.

They're still alive.

They're just children.

For the love of Nika, they're only children.

[boldlyvoid]

Christmas Cookies

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer's neighbour gives him a plate of whatever she makes her family for dinner most nights. When he comes home to see smoke bellowing out of her kitchen window, the last thing on his mind is some burnt parchment paper under her Christmas cookies.

Warnings: mutual pining, divorced reader, mom reader, food mentions, cooking, flirting

word count: 2.2k

When he got back from prison, his apartment didn’t feel like home anymore.

It felt tainted… it felt wrong to be there where so many terrible memories took place. He’s been through so much in these 4 green walls and now he can’t stomach being there anymore. 

He spends some time at JJ’s, in her spare room. He sleeps on Penelope’s couch and in the guest house at Daves but he hates feeling like a burden. So, during his mandatory month off, he packs everything up, terminates his lease and rents a new apartment in a tiny complex closer to work. And on the first night, he was there, unboxing everything, he smelled something… something delicious. 

He didn’t pack any food cause he didn’t really have any in the cupboards when he was packing and he hasn’t had time to go to the grocery store yet. So the smell makes his stomach growl, so he follows the smell. Thinking that his neighbour must’ve just got a delivery because it smelled so powerful. 

He knocks on the door, a little nervous but too hungry to care. And a little kid answers the door, probably no older than Jack. “Hi?” 

“Andrew!” A woman yells from inside the house and comes rushing to the door with a dishtowel in her hands. “How many times have I told you not to answer the door?” 

“She’s right,” Spencer agrees with her. “Sorry, I just moved in next door and I wanted to know what that smell is? It smells amazing?” 

“Oh,” the woman softens. “I’m making Carne Asada tacos for dinner…” 

“Oh, oh, I thought maybe you ordered something in 'cause the smell is so strong out here it’s just amazing… and you make it yourself?” 

She nods, a beautiful smile on her face, “I do… actually, we have a lot here, would you like some?” 

“Oh, no, I can’t impose,” he instantly feels bad. 

“I insist! Just wait here, and I’ll put some in a Tupperware and you can bring the dish back when you’re done?” She agrees 

“Okay,” he agrees. 

And that’s how it starts. 

Every few days she brings him over some dinner, he tries a plethora of new dishes and baked goods and it goes on for months. Everyone has noticed the change in him, the tummy he’s gotten from eating home-cooked meals and the smile on his face when he heads out right at 5 to catch the 5:15 train home. 

It’s snowing as he walks from the train station to their apartment building. He can see her kitchen window is open and steam is barrelling out… she’s cooking up a storm today and their building's fire alarm is so sensitive. 

But there’s too much steam, it almost looks like smoke. So he rushes inside, double-timing the steps and almost colliding with her door as he knocks on it. Her son, Andrew, opens it with a smile. “hey— are you okay?” 

“Are you? Is your mom?” He worries. “It looked like there was a fire in the kitchen from the street?” 

He shrugs and lets Spencer in and he rushes right to the kitchen. He knows where it is because the layouts of their apartments are exactly the same. And when he gets there, she’s covered in flower and fanning a tray of cookies where the parchment had caught fire in the oven. “Spencer?” She asks as she sees him. “What are you—

“There was smoke coming from the window as I walked up to the building,” he explains, hand on his chest as he finally catches his breath. “I was scared you had a fire.” 

“Well, I kinda did,” she grits her teeth and panic smiles. “This is the last time I get the cheap parchment paper from the dollar store.” 

“Yeah that doesn’t sound smart…” he agrees, searching the countertops for the packaging. He picks up the box of parchment paper and reads the back. “It’s only good up to 250 degrees, your cookies are at 375 so yes, they’re going to burn… I have some real expensive parchment that came with a gift basket when I moved in, do you want it?” 

“You’d be okay with giving it to me?” She swoons a bit. 

He nods, “Yeah, it’s not like I can bake.” 

“Do you want some cookies? I can make you any that you want?” She offers in return. 

“Whatever you’re making now, I’d love to taste test?” 

“You’ve got a deal.” 

He rushes back to his place, puts his things away and checks his hair in the mirror before grabbing the parchment paper and heads back over. He was told before he left that he didn’t need to knock, so he doesn’t. It feels weird, but he walks right in and hands her the parchment and she hands him a naked gingerbread cookie. 

“Sorry, he’s not decorated yet… You don’t have any allergies, right?” She asks. “I can’t believe I’ve been feeding you for months and never asked that.” 

He laughs, “I’m just slightly lactose intolerant, it’s nothing serious.” 

“Oh, good,” she’s so relieved. 

He takes a bite of the cookie and almost melts, “oh my god?” 

“You like it?” 

“Like it?” He exaggerates. “It’s one of the best cookies I’ve ever had in my life! Holy cow…” 

“thank you,” she swoons again. “You can have some to take home?” 

“Thank you… but why are you making so many?” 

“Drew has a holiday party at school and needs enough for 36 kids,” she explains. “I’m also going to make some specifically for his teacher as her gift for the year.” 

“I loved giving my teachers gifts when I could.” 

“Do you want to help?” She offers, pointing at their kitchen table where there are some deconstructed boxes waiting to be assembled. “You could put those together for me?” 

“I’d love to!” He finishes his cookie and takes a seat, still facing her so he can watch her work around the kitchen. He thinks she’s magnificent, he’d never want to miss a smile or a yawn or a nose scrunch or anything… she’s so pretty. He loves to look at her. 

He has a ph.d in engineering so putting together gift boxes isn’t the hardest thing in the world, it’s making sure they still look pretty when he’s done what he’s worried about. He tapes them into place and concentrates so hard he doesn’t even notice that she’s made another batch of cookies while he’s been nose-deep in cardboard, even with the wonderful smell wafting around. 

“What are you making now?” 

“Chai sugar cookies,” she smiles. “This artist I like posted a recipe and I’ve wanted to try them… so, why not? If I don’t like them I can give them away.” 

“Smart,” he agrees. “They smell amazing though, I’m sure they’ll be delicious too.” 

“They have to cool for a bit,” she shares, taking out a thing of cling film and wrapping it up to go in the fridge. “They’ll be in there for 30 minutes.” 

“Have you guys had dinner yet?” Spencer asks because it’s almost 6 and she’s made nothing but cookies. 

“It was going to be left overnight… but I don’t have that much here,” she teases. “We might just get a pizza.” 

“I’ll get it,” Spencer offers. “You’ve fed me so much, let me repay the favour?” 

“Are you sure?” She worries, “Are you okay for it?” 

He laughs, “Yeah… yeah I’m good.” 

“I just thought you’re in the same little shitty apartments as us…” 

“I work for one of the most important units in the FBI,” he smirks, not wanting to brag but… “Believe me, I’ve got this.” 

“Did I hear pizza?” Drew asks from the doorway. 

“You did,” Spencer teases. “You wanna come with me to pick it up?” 

“Can I?” He begs his mom. 

She nods, “Yeah, just, don’t let him convince you he needs more than just pizza.” 

Spencer can’t make any promises. 

He has to grab his coat and his wallet from his apartment before they go. Drew gets all dressed up for the snow and then the two of them head out down the street. “So, how’s things?” Spencer asks, trying to make conversation. 

“Good… I’m excited for Christmas.” 

“Me too,” he agrees. “What did you ask Santa for?” 

“I don’t believe in Santa anymore,” Drew laughs, “I’m 13.” 

“Oh… okay, then what did you ask your mom for?” 

“Not much, just the renewal for my Playstation game pass and some new headphones,” he explains. “I’ve got everything else I need, really.” 

“That’s really mature of you,” Spencer compliments. “I know kids your age would ask for everything under the sun if they knew their mom would do anything for them.” 

“She does so much for me, and now that we’re alone I don’t want to put too much pressure on her,” he shares. “I miss my dad but, I think she’s happier now that she left him.” 

“Do you see him often?” 

He shakes his head, “he’s in California with his other family… he was cheating on my mom.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he had no idea. They don’t really talk so how would he know? 

“It’s okay,” he shrugs it off. “You ever been married?” 

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve only had like 3 girlfriends in my whole life.” 

“Seriously? I had 3 last year,” Drew teases. 

“Of course you did,” Spencer just shakes his head. “Well, I was so weird growing up, I’m still weird now.” 

“Well, my mom likes you,” he bumps his shoulder against Spencer’s. “So you’re doing something right.” 

“She does?” He can’t believe it. 

“Duh?” He teases. “She makes sure she looks pretty before bringing you dinner every night that you’re home.” 

He blushes, “oh… I thought she just always looked pretty.”

“So you like her too?” Drew lights right up. “You should ask her out!” 

“And you’d be okay with that?” 

He nods enthusiastically, “I can even go eat in my room tonight so the two of you can just talk and hang out? Please, it would be the best Christmas gift I could give her to get her a boyfriend who’s actually nice and likes her.” 

“Yeah… yeah I can be that for her.” 

—

When they come back with two pizza boxes, dips and garlic knots, she just crosses her arms and sighs, “Drew…” 

“What? He offered!” He whines. 

“I did,” Spencer smiles. “It’s no big deal, now you’ll have more leftovers.” 

She just smiles, “Okay, well, come in and get a plate let’s get to eating.” 

Drew does just what he said he would, he finds a way to ditch them and head to his room and then Spencer is alone with the most beautiful woman ever. They talk about random things like living in the city and Christmas plans and how Drew is doing in school… but he just wants to ask her out. He stares at her lips and he wants to kiss her and learn all about her and then she notices. 

“What?” She asks, hiding her mouth. “Is there something—

“No… you’re just beautiful,” he swoons. Giving in completely. 

She smiles and her hand drops, “really?” 

He nods, “Really, really… would you want to go on a date sometime? I’m sure Drew can handle a few hours alone while we hang out and if not, my friend has a kid around his age he can meet?” 

“You have friends with a 13-year-old?” She’s so shocked. 

“Well, he’s 12 but yeah,” he nods. “He’s my godson.” 

“I would love to spend some more alone time with you… wherever you want to take me,” she adds, realizing that sounded a lot dirtier than she planned. “I mean—

“i get you,” Spencer teases, trying not to laugh. “My work has a Christmas party coming up if you want to come with me and share some of your burnt cookies?” 

She laughs this time, “Yeah, when I meet your friends they are getting fresh cookies.” 

“Okay, good,” he smiles. “Maybe we can go out before then too? I’d love to take you out to dinner… though nothing will be as good as what you can make.” 

“Then why don’t I make you my favourite meal and we can eat at your apartment?” She suggests. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he agrees. “I’ll make sure it’s nice and romantic.” 

“The way you look at me is romantic enough,” she teases. 

“From the first time I saw you I knew I wanted more than just your cooking,” he assures. “I think you’re so kind and so pretty, I can’t believe I get to talk to you let alone the privilege of taking you out— even if it’s just across the hall.” 

“I don’t typically share food… but you were too cute to starve,” she teases again. 

“And now look at me!” He points down at his stomach. “I barely fit in my suit pants." 

“You look healthy… and scrumptious, might I add.” 

His brow goes up, “really? Well, thank you for helping me get here.” 

“I knew you’d be more handsome with some meat on your bones… you’re so good-looking it's honestly crazy that you’re into me,” she whispers, not wanting Drew to hear their flirting. “I like you so much, Spencer.” 

“The feeling is mutual.” 

“I’m free tomorrow if you are?” 

“and every day after that,” he assures that this thing between them is real and not just some random infatuation that will die off in a week. 

He wants her for as long as she’ll have him. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM - Some details about whats going on with Komamura. IIRC canon said he was a werewolf, are you doing anything with him?

Me: What IS Komamura's backstory? Me: *reads backstory and eventual canon fate of Komamura* Me: Hm. Me: That's thematically weird and depressing. Me: I'll just ignore that :)

---

So in An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy, there's ALL KINDS of animal-people and supernatural creatures of varying degrees of anthropomorphic states in the Soul Society! Wolf people! Yokai! Centaurs But Bad! Snake people (sneople)! Mothmen! Whatever the fuck The Philosopher Wax is! Hell, Zaraki Kenpachi was raised by eagles! More nonhuman persons than you can shake a stick at!

They just stay away from the humans because The Humans are TERRIBLE.

...Not as terrible as my immediate family though, The Young Wolf is willing to gamble. he has to leave his home suddenly, in the middle of the night, frightened and injured. Family feuds are bad enough, but a drought year for a large group of apex carnivores and great-grandmother dying and creating a power vacuum? I'm lucky I got out alive! He reasons, tightening the bandages and wincing.

It doesn't look so bad. he lies to himself, looking at his reflection in the where he had finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss the previous night and somehow woke up alive this morning. Great-Grandfather did me a favor, trying to bite me in half like that- a tail would just make it even harder to blend in with the humans!

...Clothes would help more though. He sighs.

One man's trash is another's treasure, and that has never been more true than in the case of wolves that want to live with humans. The Young Wolf nearly weeps with joy when he finds the dump- barely-rotted animal carcasses to eat! broken wood for a fire! and clothes! Big enough to fit him! Alright that's definitely a bloodstain with a big, sort of sword-slash-shaped hole in the middle, but nothing a dunk in the river won't solve!

...Or not. Well, at least being covered in mud is less suspicious than being covered in blood? How does this thing even go on anyway? The garment is so confusing, he almost doesn't hear the humans who came to dump something until they are nearly upon him, and realizing they'll panic if they see his face, he grabs a broken basket and jams it over his head.

"Hey!" one of the humans calls out, seeing the movement. "What're you?" An old man peers around the pile at him, curious.

The Young Wolf sputters- he's heard tales of humans before, but this is the first human he's ever actually seen- The stories tell of their strange dark eyes and flattened faces how their fur is so fine they're nearly bald all over, and this man fits the description perfectly. An old woman- he guesses this one is a Woman, because what little fur she has is longer- she appears behind him, equally curious, then smacks the man under the ear.

"You dummy!" She snaps. "That's a monk!"

"Big damn monk!" The man laughs- indeed, even though he's one of the smallest of his people and not even grown, The Young Wolf towers over him- but still, he extends his open hand. Like the stories say, his claws are blunt and pale and the pads of his paws are soft. "What's yer name, venerable?"

"He can't answer that, he's a monk!" the woman snaps, exasperated. "They got- whatchyamacallit- Vows of Silence!"

"Oh, right!" the old man laughs. "Well, wouldn't matter if you could talk anyhow- my Old Lady's deaf as a post and I'm dumb as a rock! Come on, this is no place for a holy man!" he waved.

"Our home is up this way- it isn't much, but it's better than sleeping in Garbage! You stay with us and I'll fix that ratty old robe right up!" She said, grabbing him by the hand-

-

Ba-San looks down at his hand- it feels strange in hers, but it's not the fine gray fur covering his fingers or the rough pads on his palm or the dark nails that taper to claws.

It's that the hand is bleeding, scraped and cut and one of his nails missing like it had been torn off in a fight.

Ba-San is so old that everyone has forgotten her name and they just call her Ba-San, even her husband (who is so old that everyone has forgotten his name and calls him Jii-san, even his wife), and she didn't get this ancient by being an idiot. She glances up at the broken basket she knows got thrown in here by her neighbor not a week ago and sees the large golden eyes inside, staring down at her.

She's also old enough to know what a frightened child looks like, no matter how tall or what species he is.

She makes a show of squinting at his hand. "Why, your nails are FILTHY! You can wash up at the well out back too." She pats his hand.

"Of course! That's right!" Jii-san laughs. "Like I said- I got gravel for brains! He can sleep in Sajin's bed- Sajin is our Boy, but he's long since left home. It'll be good to have a young person around again!" he says, taking the boy's other hand.

He follows, stumbling awkwardly in the badly-tied robe and like he's been injured, but if he leaves paw-prints behind him, they don't remark upon it. - After about a month, the boy has something to confess. And something to ask.

Ba-San and Jii-San have been kind to him- they let him into their home and fed him and Ba-San didn't fix his robe so much as make an entirely new one "appropriate for a Monk", and Jii-san found a pair of old work gloves for him "so you can do your Good Works without losing another nail". Ba-San always gives him her soup-bones "I don't have the teeth to chew them anymore" and Jii-san always moves over so they can both sleep in the sun-patch that appears in the middle of their home every afternoon.

He's tried to repay them how he can- he's tall enough to fix the holes in the roof of their one-room shack standing flat-footed on the floor, and he carries water from the well every day to wash the stone steps outside and re-painted the red gate out front and every morning he makes them breakfast to wake them up and every night he rubs their tired necks and shoulders.

"Mmm-rr." he tries at breakfast, and they both look up, but it's hard enough practicing human words in the woods behind the shack to the birds, let alone now, at the table with the two people he cares most about in the world.

"You say something, Venerable?" Jii-san asks. "Don't worry- I won't tattle to the abbot on you-" he teases.

"Shush!" Ba-san barks at him. "What is it?"

He sighs, and tries again, focusing on the sounds. "mMnoddamunk."

The two elders stare blankly at him.

"Ahm nodda munk." he tries again, enunciating better. "Ahm nodda yumn eethrr."

The two look at each other, then turn back to him and place a hand on each of his.

"...Sorta figur'd the first when you didn't recognize the shrine." Nods Jii-san. "-But that's alright. You take good care of us."

"...Sort of figured the second when I saw your hand on the day we met." Nods Ba-San. "-But that's alright. You're a good person, which is a very different thing than being a Good Human."

The Boy stares at them, stunned, then cringes, embarrassed. Of course! They're old, not stupid. "Aiyee- r-r-r MN! Aiyee LLied." he apologizes, stumbling over the difficult consonant in the middle, determined to conquer it.

"I didn't hear any lies, did you, Jii-san?" asks Ba-san.

"I didn't hear nothin' and my ears even work!" he grins, ears perking up.

The Boy sighs, still exasperated with their antics but mostly relieved.

...Then something Jii-san said caught up with him, and he frowns.

"Aiyee- Aye haffa..." Another tricky consonant. "Aye needa assk ssmmng." he changed tracks. L was enough of a battle for one day, Q and his frustrating wife U could wait.

"Whadday wanna know, Venerable?" Jii-san asked, and Ba-san frowned, turning her ear out behind their home, already suspecting his questions.

He held up two fingers and they nodded, waiting. He'd gotten very good at numbers and pointing already, and until today, that had carried the conversation. "sssHrrine?" he asked.

Jii-san frowned. "...what's your second question?"

"th-Therre'ss ah- Grrrave?" he pointed out behind the shrine, to where a stone stood, with what he now recognized as marks signifying a name carved into it. "wHo?"

Ba-San and Jii-san looked at each other, distraught for some time before Ba-San finally turned back to him, both hands on his.

"...Venerable," She finally spoke. "You had to run away from home in a hurry, didn't you?"

The boy nods.

"-And Jii-san and I were the first people you met that weren't you family, right?" She continues.

He nods again. She purses her lips, agitated.

"Jii-San." She finally speaks. "I think we ought to show him Sajin."

Jii-san sighs and nods, agreeing with her, and stands up. At the back of the house, there is a little cabinet with two boxes they never open, and something covered by a black cloth. Jii-san opens the cabinet and takes out the thing covered by the black cloth, pulling the cloth aside and bringing the thing to the table. It's a flat rectangle, and on it is a drawing of a very strange creature.

It's face is almost perfectly circular, and it's body covered in clothes, like how Humans dress, including a funny hat. What the boy can see of the creature is perfectly smooth and hairless and the same color as not-quite-ripe peaches. It has a long mane of straight dark gray hair growing from the top of its head, and a beard a bit like a billy-goat's

"This is Sajin," Says Jii-san, voice wavering a bit. "He wasn't our son- you can tell, we're not related by blood- but he was Our Boy. He took care of us, like you do now."

"He was Our Boy." nods Ba-San, on the verge of tears. "Then he was Our Man. And then he was Our Old Man, and then-" She stopped, and began to cry in earnest. "-And then he left home, and we buried his body out behind the shrine, and marked his grave, as Humans do."

The boy continued to stare at Sajin's portrait. "...Sajin." he whispered, and the name didn't fight him at all. "...Ihff- if Sajin iss Yumann-?" he looked up at his friends. "Whattrrre You?"

Ba-San beckons him and Jii-san back to the cabinet, and puts her hand on one of The Boxes They Never Open. Jii-San puts his hand on the other, and together, the open the lids just a tiny bit for The Boy to see inside.

He gasps and steps back in horror- the things in the boxes are very much like the skulls he's seen of his people before, but the noses are all smooshed like they didn't grow right, and the eyes are too large and- -And they're just the right size each to belong to Ba-San and Jii-San.

"We are Koma, Guardian Dogs, and this is our shrine." Says Jii-san, closing the lid on his box as Ba-san closed hers, and placing the drawing of Sajin back on the shelf above them. "We wear clothes and speak like humans because we once took Names, a very long time ago, and thus we are People and we act like People." He explained.

"Nnames?" the boy asks.

"A Name is... a sort of contract, that the humans made up." Says Ba-San, locking the cabinet back up. "Humans can live together in such huge packs and crowded cities because they have Rules- you're not allowed to kill other people except in self-defense. You're not allowed to take food someone else caught. Nobody is allowed to kill a child for any reason, things like that. If you take a Name, it's like saying- 'I am this Person! And I agree to abide by the rules of being a person!', and you have to follow the rules, but everyone else has to follow the rules for you too, because you have a Name. So Humans can live very close to each other, because they all have an understanding that nobody is going to violate those rules."

"It's not just humans that can take names- long ago, some wolves decided to take names, and those wolves became Dogs, that live with humans. They were our ancestors, and like our ancestors, we took Names, and we obeyed the rules, and for that, we were fed and allowed to sleep inside and given soup-bones and let to sleep in the sun-patch, but most of all, we were Loved." Said Jii-san.

"-And just the same, we Loved Sajin. He was Our Boy. And We were His Dogs." Said Ba-san, bursting into tears again. Jii-san held her, tears running down his face as well.

Ba-san cried into Jii-san's shoulder for a long time, and The Boy Who Was A Wolf That Wanted To Live Among The Humans sat in silence, thinking.

"...Cour-could Aye- take a nName?" He asks, slowly.

"You'd have to take two, and learn all the rules-" Nodded Jii-san. "But yes. Anyone who can talk can take a name. And you've been talking my tail off!" he wagged.

"Two?" the boy asked. He didn't need to use his fingers this time.

"Humans have two names- one is the name of that specific human, and one is the name of their family or the place they came from or what they did, as a sort of... Introduction. Humans are very big on introducing themselves and all their friends- though I suppose it makes sense, what with them having names to introduce themselves with."

"You can be a Komamura!" Jii-san said, wagging excitedly. "Ba-san and Jii-san are Koma, and we are your Ba-San and Jii-San, so you must be part of our family, so that makes you Mura, a relative- so you're a Koma-mura!" he nodded.

"Humans also give their children names of revered ancestors, to honor the ancestor, and protect the child." Added Ba-san. "You do Sajin's chores, you sleep in Sajin's bed, you take care of Sajin's Dogs... You must be Sajin!"

"That's your name, if you want it- Komamura Sajin!" Said Jii-san. The Boy stared at them for a long time, completely still, until they realized that, for the first time since they'd known him, the scarred nub on his backside was wagging too.

"Thank you." Said Sajin, tears streaming down his face too. --

Many months later, a Monk* leaves the little shrine to Ba-san and Jii-san at the edge of the dump. He leaves his home in no particular rush- if anything, he's lingering- in the middle of a bright morning, hale and with joy in his heart. He waves to his Ba-san and Jii-san as he heads down the road, promising to come back and visit.

"Look at that." says Ba-San. "Our Boy is leaving home again."

"I know," Says Jii-san. "-but this time it'll be alright."

--

[doveywovy]

thinking about the uchiha and the senju *not* being on equal footing for once. Indra, when chasing power, became the Daimyo of Fire instead of squabbling with his Father and Brother. His relation to the Emperor (his grandfather) ensuring the line. So hundreds of years later, the Uchiha are the ruling family of fire- over civilians and shinobi alike. They rarely, if ever, actually *serve* as shinobi, but they maintain their abilities to the highest degree possible because it's part of how they keep an iron grip on all the shinobi clans who serve under them. (The sharingan is as respected as ever, but now with the 'divine right to rule' implications tied into it's manifestation.)

Tajima is the current head, but he's coming close to retiring and having Madara take over. Izuna's been raised as Madara's advisor; assassinations are still a concern but heirs dying is much less common. They'd never put the main family into danger, so all of their siblings are still alive, but they all got married off at young ages to secure alliances. (Even before they got married off, they were raised with the mindset that they'd be bargaining tools, and so Izuna and Madara were raised separately to keep them from getting attached).

The Senju aren't a noble clan, and aren't even aware of their connection to the historical line of power. But the Uchiha are aware of it, and thus start to pay extra attention when Hashirama marries Mito. Uniting clans...it could be nothing, but it could also be a sign he intends to usurp. They're careful about that sort of thing.

Izuna presses the advantage this gives them. The Senju will have to give in to any demands they make that aren't *too* outrageous, and there's been whispering about Hashirama's brother being a genius inventor. Madara asks for Tobirama's service to their family, separating the Senju from a very useful tool if they are planning a coup and gaining the Uchiha a very major boon if there's no coup in place.

Tobirama arrives, blandly polite, covered in dirt from the road, and the presumption is that he'll get swirled away into court life. He'll either prove foolish and end up dead sooner than later, or prove clever and thus useful. In which case Izuna will keep him in mind if he ever needs something invented, or investigated, or otherwise prodded with a stick. One day the Senju's power will fade- they'll make a political misstep, lose an heir, Hashirama will turn into a tree. Then Tobirama will get returned, with the expectation to politely acquis to any requests the Uchiha make for the rest of his life.

Izuna gets attached instead. Tobirama's extremely compelling to him for all their similarities and differences. The man is a younger brother devoted to his elder; Izuna cares for his brother by handling the tricky court manipulations that elude soft-hearted Madara. Tobirama seems serve his brother by being the harsh one, the firm one, the threatening one. He's ill-suited for court. He lacks any skill at manipulation but is very adapt at biting insults, which is a terrible combination and also very funny for Izuna to watch. Izuna was raised from a young age to be careful about assassinations; Tobirama was raised from a young age to commit them.

Tobirama doesn't know how easily their positions could be reversed, if their ancestors had made different decisions, but Izuna does. He takes a very mean delight in that- especially because he fully believes the Uchiha deserve their place. They *were* the better bloodline, the divine right to rule was indeed always meant to be theirs, and it really only could be fate that a Senju would end up serving the Uchiha. It's a joke that Tobirama can never know, and his ignorance makes it funnier.

[therealrichardpapen]

Since I presented the Tragic Hero and Fatal Flaw and even got a prize for it, I will try and explain here how it works and maybe touch upon The Secret History.

Aristotle was the first one to define the tragic hero based on his studies on drama; and the tragic hero is usually the main character. Tragic heroes typically have heroic traits that earn them the sympathy of the audience, but also have flaws or make mistakes that ultimately lead to their own downfall.

He believed that a good tragedy must evoke feelings of fear and pity in the audience since he saw these two emotions as being fundamental to the experience of catharsis (the process of releasing strong or pent-up emotions through art). As Aristotle puts it, when the tragic hero meets his demise, "pity is aroused by unmerited misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man like ourselves."

Aristotle define some characteristics, and according to him, a tragic hero must:

Be virtuous: The character should be both capable and powerful (i.e. "heroic"), and also feel responsible to the rules of honor and morality that guided Greek culture. These traits make the hero attractive and compelling, gaining the audience's sympathy.

Be flawed: While being heroic, the character must also have a tragic flaw (also called hamartia) or more generally be subject to human error, and the flaw must lead to the character's downfall. On the one hand, these flaws make the character "relatable," someone with whom the audience can identify. Just as important, the tragic flaw makes the tragedy more powerful because it means that the source of the tragedy is internal to the character, not merely some outside force. In the most successful tragedies, the tragic hero's flaw is not just a characteristic they have in addition to their heroic qualities, but one that emerges from their heroic qualities—for instance, a righteous quest for justice or truth that leads to terrible conclusions, or hubris (the arrogance that often accompanies greatness). In such cases, it is as if the character is fated to destruction by his or her own nature.

Suffer a reversal of fortune: The character should suffer a terrible reversal of fortune, from good to bad. Such a reversal does not merely mean a loss of money or status. It means that the work should end with the character dead or in immense suffering, and to a degree that outweighs what it seems like the character deserved.

Knowing all these facts, THE TRAGIC FLAW is a literary device that adds dimensionality and reliability to a character. It also help extend the plot line leading to a tragic downfall. Tragic flaws add reliability by making characters more relatable, as humans tend to have positive and negative traits that impact their lives, just as character traits impact the course of the plot in a fictional story. Tragic flaws contribute to the plot by contributing either directly or indirectly to a character's tragic downfall.

Regarding The Secret History, Richard's fatal flaw was his desire and need for the aesthetic "a morbid longing for the picturesque", as he states in the opening. He was obsessed with how things should appear and aestheticism. The lengths to which characters are prepared to go to keep up appearances inevitably bring about their downfall.