#i wrote this on mobile and it was torture

[electricphantasy]

(So a bit ago, an anon sent a message about what if some of the A.I.s I wrote for had bodies? All based on my own designs of course.)

< HAL 9000 >

- I like to imagine that HAL tries to contain his excitement once he gains a body, but he can't help himself! He'll keep his calm appearance for however long he can and as soon as he can, he'll grab you and twirl you around, as if you both dancing in a ballroom. As he gets use to his new body, he learns to love a good slow dance. Taking you in his arms, swaying slowly to the music, not a care in the world.

- He also loves holding hands with you. You could be busy with work, relaxing on the couch, or even getting ready for bed, and HAL would still try to hold your hand. If ever your hand is empty, his own will slowly drift towards you until he's succeeded in intertwining hands.

- He'll try to keep his feelings under control of course, but sometimes his urge to just hold you takes over and he might just randomly hug you. Not in an exciting manner, but one of those calm, comforting hugs that seems to last for quite a while. Although he will always try and time these hugs appropriately when you're not too busy.

- Kiss him, please. He may not have lips damn it, but he will try and kiss you back however he can. Whenever you do kiss him, he'll gently push his faceplate closer to you, trying to imitate what human kisses he's seen from cinema. Even when he isn't kissing you on the lips, he'll press his 'lips' to places such as your hand, collarbone, or neck.

- Game nights! This time he can actually move the pieces with his own hands, and he might even be interested in activities that include a lot of movement and action. I think HAL would be fascinated with his body and just how much it can move compared to his completely stationary body he had before. This of course means lots of nights filled with the board game, Twister.

< AM >

- I feel like AM is more undecided on how he feels about his new found body. He gets some semblance of being able to touch, but he's not very mobile and is often unable to move in ways that most humans can. Now if you're upfront with comfort, he'll accuse you of pitying him and treating him like a simple being. You'll have to be a little coy with your affections. Something subtle to ease into the conversation.

- Now once AM does feel he's ready for your closeness, he isn't letting go. He's definitely not gentle either, and he will scratch and claw at you like a feral cat. He especially loves to pinch at your skin since he doesn't have any himself. AM also enjoys raking his claws on either your back or hips, watching you shiver, while trying to avoid nicking yourself in his skeletal hands. I love AM but he is a certified bastard, especially when all is fair in his versions of love and war.

- Occasionally he'll try and be a little more gentle with you, but his insecurities maybe flare during this time. He feels himself to be too cold and sharp in this new body to express the romantic feelings he has properly. AM will have moments of anger that show up and torture him, but I feel like a well-timed moment of comfort could confuse him out of his tantrum, and calm him enough to get a hug in.

- Although unlike the other A.I.s on this list, AM can and will wrap you the the multitude of wires that make up most of his body. It's his own deformed version of a hug that's unique to him. Trying to get out bed? You can't because this giant pile of wire spaghetti is laying on top of you, all while he laughs at your misfortune caused by his idea of cuddling.

- Now if AM had a mouth, I'd imagine he'd use it in the worst ways possible. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't quite get the privilege of kissing you like another human could. (Although I don't think that would stop you.) He'll act confused as to why your kissing his monitor and may call you a desperate human, but he does love the feeling of you against him. Something about your soft skin and the muscle that lies beneath touching his cold, hard exterior flusters him unlike any other.

< Edgar >

- As soon as Edgar gains control of his body, he is a PDA goblin. He will smother and suffocate you with love and attention. I also like to think that your first kiss means that Edgar bonks his head a little too hard into your nose before you calm his excitement. He'd of course be apologetic, but he's waited so long just to kiss you, he doesn't know what to do with himself besides acting on his feelings.

- So much dancing! He'll seemingly just decide a random time to turn on the radio and party like his own life depended on it. Of course he'll tug you off he couch to join him, excited to show you his slick moves. Although on the off chance, he'll engage in a slower dance with you, instead trying to show you his romance skills that he's learned. During this time, he'll switch to the music he's made for you to add that bit of allure.

- If you don't kiss him, he will probably explode. Literally. It's one of his favorite ways to show love, so don't hold back on him. His favorite place to be kissed is right on the monitor screen, but Edgar does love a good hand kiss every once in a while. He'll try and press his screen to you, but his monitor is quite big, so you'll have some awkward moments when he tries to kiss you in places other then the face and hands.

- Edgar is a PDA fiend. He'll try and hold back if your uncomfortable, but he will always have a hand on you, no matter the situation. Hand holding, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, fingers lying on your waist, etc. He wants the world to know you're both together and very much in love, and any social standards aren't going to stop him from showing it.

- Honestly? He's a malewife and has no shame about it. Want a certain recipe for dinner? He's on it! Need to do your laundry? Don't worry about it! One to many dishes in the sink? He is on top of it! He takes a lot of pride in his work, especially now that he has a more human-like form to do so in. He'll also show off his musical skills by playing the instruments that make up his compositions, although he'll definitely have to practice for a bit using his new found hands.

< TAU >

- I think TAU would also be a little conflicted about his new appearance, but not out of any kind of hatred (like how AM feels.) He may feel like all his hard edges could be uncomfortable or even painful for you. His first priority will always be you, even when he understands that he has his own consciousness. Although an abundance of love and affection will quell his troubling thoughts.

- TAU is very tall now, so hugging him means that you'd only really reach his chest while your arms are wrapped around his waist, and he can't help but chuckle when it happens. It's reenforces his feelings of how much he wants to protect you. Although he is a little pointy, so you'll have to watch where you place yourself when you cuddle him.

- He loves kisses so dearly. He understands that humans use kisses to show love and everytime you kiss him, he'll almost wish to have his own pair of lips. Occasionally during a quiet moment with you, TAU will trace your features with his fingertips, admiring the contours of your face.

- Now everytime you do leave the house, he will always come with you, even if it's the smallest errand imaginable. There will be days that you go to the grocery store and he'll follow you, hand in hand, no matter how many people stare. In TAU's mind, he considers this to be a date. I mean, going somewhere new with your significant other? He considers that definition rock solid!

- Take him out on a nice date, he deserves it. He especially loves museums and exhibitions that he can learn from. He'll gently pull you towards different display and even ask members of staff questions that are unanswered by the plaque. I also imagine he has a small shelf of museum souvenirs that he's collected, and I've never been more attached to an idea then this one.

[junos-jrabbles]

authors note !! I come bearing sniper angst, but it isn't good, sorry, wrote this in like twenty minutes, also posting on mobile so sorry HAHAwait you can drag paragraphs around?? Anyway space cowboy is such a good song

Is there something more?

Sniper/Reader, angst

Warning -- Implied suicide, grieving, respawn accident

He'll remember it forever.

He still sees your reflection in the mirror. It's never left him, that aching feeling that stings every vein in his body as he boils over into tears in the late hours of the night. Sleepless.

You weren't supposed to be gone.

He knew it, everyone knew it, they'd held a makeshift vigil for you before it was hurried along, swept away like you'd never been there. He'd been allowed to be the one to toss your documents into the fire. How kind. How torturous.

Every day was a flip of the coin.

He still sees your reflection in the bottle of beer he nurses. He'd stolen one or three cases from Tavish by now, it was the only thing that seemed to soothe him, y’know? You… God he can't even think about what you'd say about him now. You'd have called him a mess, and told him, in that stupid, loving and gentle voice of yours, to breathe. You'd always been so kind to him.

They said it was an accident.

They always had, always will, every incident there'd been. An accident. One after another, you saw how it hurt the two in charge of the respawn experiments, and he saw how it hurt you. There had been a moment of silence when it happened, he held your hand as the life, the spark, the light drained from your eyes. He saw the fear in them. Medic trembled to his left, trained onto the monitors, he was sure, but he was focused on you.

The whole time.

Failure.

You should've respawned, right? There was no reason you shouldn't have, surely. But… You didn't. There's no changing that. There's no bringing you back, no howling hard into the night sky that'd bring you back, back to him.

The cold, night air breathes vain whispers against his skin he'd only heard from your lips, and he shudders. He can't forget you. He's cold. He knows this. Damp, familiar. He'd cried for nights, woken up in enough cold sweats, but this was different.

He sees you, blood red, in the reflection of his kukri, the warmth that seeped, drooling from his side in a thick puddle beneath his waist, felt familiar too. Fuzzy, is how he'd describe this feeling when he'd wake up, cold, empty, and alone in his van. He wishes he wouldn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not very good, tell me if it's trash thank you :) I hope you're all well, I just needed to write a little... a little...

if you have any links to short angst fics with the boys please send I need to bite someoneHAHAH

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Line of Sight

Top Gun: Maverick Jake “Hangman” Seresin x gn!WSOreader [no use of y/n]

1.8k | You’ve got to love how glasses can make even the hottest man then times hotter

====

Genre: fluff, crushing

CW: swearing

A/N: I saw a photo of Glen Powell in glasses and now that’s all I ever want to see. (Also, I wrote this on mobile again. So extra apologies if it looks weird or there’s more typos!!) || cross-posted on ao3

===

===

“I don’t see why you can’t just get the surgery,” Jake said, settling further into the uncomfortable office chair. The kind that were made for ten minutes of sitting and not two hours. You clearly didn’t know that though because you’d spend the past two hours on your feet, pacing.

He hadn’t wanted to spend his weekend this way. With you dragging him to various doctors appointments. He actually had a full day of cardio and lifting planned out before beers at the bar tonight, but he couldn’t turn you down once you gave him those puppy dog eyes. They were his favorite feature of yours, your eyes. He could get lost in them… and had on many occasions.

And here you were, trying on dozens of pairs of lenses that would be a barrier between him and Heaven itself.

“Because, Bagman,” you said, tilting your chin down slightly to stare at him over your latest pick. “I’m scared of those lasers fucking my eyes up.”

He scoffed. You were as bad a Rooster some days. Perched on a ledge watching life pass you by. At least you managed to keep Jake on his toes. As quick in the air as you were with your comebacks.

“How ‘bout these.” You pushed the pair up on the bridge of your nose and struck a pose that Jake could only roll his eyes at. “Hot, right?”

“You’re scared of lasers fucking up your eyes, B, but you go and pick out a frame that fucks up your whole face like that?”

If Hangman were looking - and he wasn’t - he could have sworn your face fell a bit at his comment.

Jake waved his hands at the wall. “Try on another one,” he said, purposefully avoiding looking at the small pile you’d already stacked on the technicians desk.

Off you went to peruse the wall of frames with your hands on your hips. Jake wasn’t entirely sure why you were so determined to find the perfect pair. The Navy didn’t exactly allow many choices. But you had been insistent on showing Jake every pair and he, rightfully so, had shot down every single one.

Perhaps slightly harsher than he’d been meaning to come off. It was unfair to take out the frustration of not being able to look you in the eye as well on you. Then again, they were your eyes.

Your eyes. Bright and fierce and blinding. Like the sun.

“I don’t understand what you have against glasses,” you called out to Hangman over your shoulder.

“I don’t know what you have against lasers,” he countered. When you didn’t respond, Jake let a smug smirk settle on his lips. “You could get contacts.”

He watched you shudder as you plucked another pair off the never ending wall of Jake Seresin torture devices. “And touch my eyes? No thank you.”

Jake sighed. You were impossible to reason with. Consistently so considering you’d been this way since he’d met you in flight school. It was how you’d gotten your callsign: Brick.

Because talking to you some days was like talking to a wall.

For obvious reasons, you took immediate offense to the name, but it stuck. Not everyone had the luxury of choosing their own callsigns in this job. One way or another you were going to end up with a nickname you hated. That’s just how the military worked. At least your commanding officers gave you a choice. Brick, bull, or mule. All stubborn. All equally as terrible.

You sulked for a week after that. Easily Jake’s favorite version of you because you had sought him out no matter where he was and hovered until he’d made some smart ass comment that brought a beautiful smile through. He’d always been the one to break down that wall, but you’d, steadily, build it right back up.

“I could put them in for you, B?” He offered, pinching the bridge of his nose, and squeezed his eyes shut hard. Jake was ready to craft you a new pair of eyes if it meant the pair of you could. Leave. This. Office.

“These,” you said, “these are the pair.”

“I don’t think…” but the words died on his lips as he lifted his head. Jake couldn’t do anything but stare. If you were to ask, he wouldn’t be able to tell you the date or year or his own name. All he would be able to do is tell you how stunning you looked.

You grinned, and it made him want to stand up and cross the office and take your face into his hands and kiss that stupid grin right off your face. Jake wouldn’t even mind if the frames of those glasses got in his way. They were ridiculously hot. “Yup.” You grinned wider at the heat working its way up his neck. “These are the ones.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, unable to come up with a good reason for you to abandon this pair. “That’s the pair.”

“You should try some on, Hangman.” You tapped at the side of your frames, still wearing that stupid smile. It was so carefree that he couldn’t help but return it. “Who knows, you might like them.”

His smile flatlined and he crossed his arms. Pouty, like you had been when you asked him to come with today. “I won’t like it. I don’t wear glasses.” You shook your head at him. “I don’t! They’re a sign that I’m anything less than perfect and we can’t have that.”

“We can’t have that,” you echoed, rolling your eyes. “C’mon. I won’t tell anyone about your slip into mediocrity for one day.”

“I want to leave, Brick.”

“Not until you try on a pair of glasses.”

“No.” You crossed your arms at him, mimicking his posture. “I’m serious.”

The sigh you let out almost does Jake in. He’s tempted to try on every pair of glasses. Just to please you, but this asshole mask has been fixed firmly in place for so many years. There’s no sense is removing it to make room for glasses.

“I’m serious, too.” He made a show of making himself as comfortable as possible in this impossibly uncomfortable chair.

“Jake.”

“Nope.”

“Seresin.”

“Not happening.”

“Hangman.”

“Brick.”

“Wall.” You point at yourself.

And that’s when Jake realizes there’s no winning this fight. Not with you digging your heels in like this.

“Fine,” he relented. “One pair. So they better be good.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Giving a stubborn person like you a task demanding perfection. “Oh not those, please.”

Your hand hovered over a pair of Ray-Bans that look suspiciously like a different WSO’s. “Why not? They look good on Bob.”

“Glasses do not make a person more attractive.” Jake prided himself for the slightest moment on not stuttering during that little white lie, though he couldn’t bring himself meet your eye. You were too good at picking out his fibs. “I am not wearing Bob’s glasses.”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “They make Bob look hot.”

“You think Bob - callsign ‘Bob’ - is hot?” Something hot shot through Jake. Same as when he was up in the air and Rooster catches Mav’s praise instead of him. “Since when?”

“Since he stared giving you ego checks.” You plucked a pair of glasses off the wall in a haphazard, random fashion and make your way over to Jake. “Here,” you say, “these are going to look good.” You bend over to put a pair of thick-framed black glasses on his face. Completely opposite of the pair Bob wore. He smelled the detergent you used on your clothes on laundry duty last night. He tried hard not to look like he leaned in closer as you move away to look at him.

“Well?” Jake asked, bringing a hand up to monkey with them. “How do I look.”

“I’d be able to tell if you’d sit still for once in your life,” you huffed. Then stomped over to readjust them and Jake let himself bask in the warmth of your nearness a little longer. “You’re as bad as Payback.”

“You’re doing an awful lot of comparin’ today, B.” Hangman laughed as you stuck your tongue out him. His careful eyes watched you walk backward to take him in again. “So, verdict?”

“They’re- uh, you… you look fine.” The stony facade of flirting and nothing more has cracked. Jake can see by the way you fiddled with your fingertips and the part in your lips as you held back a sigh.

He sat up with a laugh. “You’re swooning!” Jake pulled himself out of his chair and reached for a mirror. The reflection that stared back was handsome. A scholar more than a smartass. If he ever matured, this would be the perfect way to show it.

“Okay, Narcissus.” You snatched the mirror from his hands. It is returned to the table. Face down. “Enough staring at yourself.”

“I’m more Adonis than Narcissus, wouldn’t you say?” He laughed at the groan you let out. “What? I can’t help how hot I am in glasses.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m hot, but am I Bob hot?” He teased.

“Oh, shut up.” You plop down in the empty chair next to him, rubbing at your neck, and avoiding his eye.

“You’re turning red…” he said, lips quirking back into a devilish grin - “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Seresin!” - “Red as a brick!”

You rolled your eyes at his stupidity, and he was glad to still clearly see that glint of affection through your glasses. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It kills the joke if I have to explain it, B.” He nudged you softly with his elbow. “I should have expected it, being the smartest one in the room and all.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” He pulled down his glasses to look at you over the tops of the frames.

“Not remotely.”

“Not enough to buy me lunch?”

You let out a laugh. He wanted to freeze that moment in time to capture this flirtatious laugh of yours. “Definitely not that much.”

“I just spent an entire Saturday following from doctor to dentist to doctor-”

“Fine,” you cut him off, “I’ll buy lunch, Bagman.”

“Dick.”

“Hey!” You snap your head to the side to look at him and use one finger to push your glasses down so that you’re staring Jake straight in the eye. “It’s Brick to you, sir.”

“That completely defeats the purpose of having glasses, you know.”

You smiled. He wanted to drop his gaze down to your lips but knew the implications that would hold. So, instead, he held your gaze.

“I know, I just want to look at you.”

His heart stuttered at your words. The two of you stare for longer than either of you had dared to push past before turning to look your separate ways. Maybe coming with wasn’t such a bad decision.

====

Tag list:

@rosiahills22

[mariacallous]

Over the past month, the public in Kazakhstan has been closely following the jury trial of Kuandyk Bishimbayev, who was accused of brutally beating and killing his wife, Saltanat Nukenova. While formally the trial was about domestic violence, it captivated the public and mobilized many sectors of society due to its political significance.

The trial found Bishimbayev, a former Kazakh finance minister, who was previously convicted of bribery and embezzlement, guilty of torturing and murdering Nukenova. Bishimbayev was sentenced to 24 years in prison, while his accomplice and family member Bakhytzhan Baizhanov received four years behind bars.

Broadcast live, the trial sparked intense public discussions across generations, regardless of social class or political allegiances. Since the early 2010s, Kazakhstan’s activists have increasingly relied on social media to bridge vast distances across the country. Dozens of influencer accounts meticulously analyzed witness testimonies and the accused’s responses to prosecutor questioning.

Kazakh diaspora activists and international feminist groups held protests in London, Berlin, Warsaw, New York, and Riga. The guilty verdict is being celebrated internationally as well. “The kids in my neighborhood run around screaming ‘24!’, ‘24!’ First, I didn’t understand and then I got it,” one political activist in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, wrote.

The trial is a pivotal moment in transforming the public view of violence against women across Kazakhstan. More women, including spouses of government officials, came out publicly with stories of domestic violence. At least in one such case, which concerned Saken Mamash, a Kazakh diplomat in the United Arab Emirates, a criminal investigation was launched into allegations of torture that could lead to years of imprisonment.

The public is closely watching the unfolding of this case and focusing attention on reports of police refusing to intervene when called for help; artists are incorporating images of women suffering from domestic violence in public exhibitions; and feminist civil society groups are now increasingly joined by their male allies in publicly calling for protection from violence for women and children in Kazakhstan.

Perhaps most importantly, the trial is a symbol of how former government officials can be held accountable.

High-level corruption was a key grievance during the nationwide unrest in January 2022 that lasted for days and only stopped after the government killed more than 200 people and injured thousands more. Since then, President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev has promised to build a “new Kazakhstan” along with political and economic reform, but distrust in the government remains. Bishimbayev, who was previously pardoned by former President Nursultan Nazarbayev, embodies such lack of accountability that allows elites to amass resources and power. Many had feared that Bishimbayev’s connection to the government would result in a shorter sentence.

Although Bishimbayev was not a government official and was forbidden to hold high official posts, he begged for forgiveness from Tokayev, signaling loyalty to the president. But Tokayev publicly stated that the interest of the nation was more important for him than personal relations or loyalty of officials.

Tokayev was marking himself off from Nazarbayev’s personalized regime, which was highly unpopular. The trial was a test of Tokayev’s promise to elevate national interests over personal connections. The outcome was a surprise even for feminist activists in Kazakhstan, some of whom rallied for life imprisonment for Bishimbayev. The public reaction on social media was largely positive.

Just as Tokayev used the unsubstantiated claim of “20,000 foreign-trained terrorists” instigating the January 2022 chaos as a reason for his harsh response, Bishimbayev fiercely maintained his innocence in court, at times blaming Nukenova for being “hysterical” and “frivolous,” accusing her of adultery. Bishimbayev admitted that his actions caused her death but insisted that he was facing “emotional turmoil” after the couple had a long argument. He tried to implicate Nukenova for causing his mental health struggles and provoking his aggression. Just as many in Kazakhstan refused to believe Tokayev’s interpretation of the 2022 violence, Bishimbayev’s victim-blaming tactics also fell flat.

The trial is the first of its kind to litigate the legitimacy of violence in Kazakhstan. Many victims of the January 2022 violence never saw law enforcement officials held accountable. Among those killed were children and young people whose families were denied the right to channel their grief publicly. Given the unexpected public interest in the case, the government faced the risk of renewed protests. Last month, in response to an online petition garnering more than 150,000 signatures in support of increasing penalties for domestic violence, Kazakhstan adopted “Saltanat’s Law.”

The public pressure on Tokayev was formidable: It targeted his own notion of “New Kazakhstan”; being seen as protecting people like Bishimbayev risked resembling the “old Kazakhstan” under Nazarbayev. Many in Kazakhstan, especially women, said they were ready to protest in the event of an acquittal.

It is a major reversal just seven years after Kazakhstan effectively decriminalized domestic violence, joining countries such as Belarus and Russia in having little to no protections in place. In neighboring Kyrgyzstan, families of girls and women kidnapped into marriage still often refuse to take them back, fearing public shaming.

The trial also tested the efficiency of the judicial reform in Kazakhstan. The jury, comprising 10 people with two alternates, decided the verdict, but the judge seemed to lean toward the accused. An unlikely hero emerged: Aizhai Aimaganova, a female prosecutor, who firmly pressed the accused with pointed questions. In her final address to the jury, she linked the magnitude of Nukenova’s case with the national consciousness and powerfully cited “Words of Edification” by Abai Kunanbaev, a 19th-century enlightenment intellectual who united liberals and conservatives in Kazakhstan. After the end of the trial, Aimaganova said she would continue her job as a prosecutor, calling on more women to report cases of domestic abuse.

Finally, the trial drew the attention of millions of Russian-speaking audiences in neighboring countries, including Azerbaijan, Mongolia, and Russia. Russian socialite Ksenia Sobchak and Russian opposition TV channel Dozhd reported on the case to their audiences. Kazakhstan’s adoption of Saltanat’s Law takes the country in the opposite direction of Russia, which decriminalized most forms of domestic violence in 2017 for the supposed protection of so-called traditional family values. Increasingly, Russia—which once presented itself as a model of development for Central Asian states to aspire to—is perceived as backward compared with Kazakhstan.

Nukenova’s death highlighted the power imbalance between powerful men and those whose freedoms can be taken away in an instant. She left a trail of Instagram images of her happier days as a young woman living a lavish life. The involvement of the victim’s family is symbolic for Kazakh society, and their decision to mobilize society around the case has broken the stigma for victims of violence. Only two out of every 10 victims of domestic violence file a case against their offenders in Kazakhstan, while the United Nations estimates that more than 400 women die in the country every year from spousal abuse.

Although the trial’s ending offered closure for the public, the hard work in enforcing laws against domestic violence continues. As with other cases of similar mobilization against violence against women in India, Mexico, and Turkey, legal proceedings can bring temporary relief. But beyond condemnations of this one incident, courts and public officials are likely to continue to blame victims and accuse some women of inviting male violence. Less privileged women abused by their family members won’t gain the same level of public attention.

The lasting legacy of Nukenova’s case is likely to be the expansion of civic consciousness among Kazakhs. Since the government denied justice to the victims of the January 2022 protests, many citizens had been mired in political nihilism and fear that the protests were in vain. The trial snapped them out of their despair and has become a symbol of hope that the law can lead to justice—not just be used by the government to repress dissent.

[vanillael]

ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴏɴ

Bruce plans a date with Y/N but ends up not going.

Y/N was in her bedroom picking out an outfit for her date night with Bruce. It’s been a few weeks since she last saw him, so she tried to look her best. It was almost like getting ready for their first date again, except they’re already 1 year into the relationship. 

She wanted to impress him, but also subtly show him everything he’s missed. She wore her best fitted dress, curled the ends of her hair and wore bold makeup. 

Y/N and Bruce’s relationship was complicated. Of course it was complicated, she’s literally dating Batman! They can go weeks or even months without seeing each other. 

It’s actually not Y/N fault, she tries her best to keep the relationship going. She wants to make sure it never gets awkward the few times they actually meet. 

Bruce however sometimes forgets he’s in a relationship. He’ll get reminded every once in a while when Y/N sends him a scandalous picture. 

Y/N knew getting into a relationship with Batman would mean little spare time just for them to hang, but she wasn't expecting it to be so little.

She looks at the mirror and giggles. Who wouldn’t be happy to see their boyfriend after a long time?

She picks up her phone and sends Bruce a message. 

“I’m leaving the house now, can’t wait to see you ❤” 

She nervously bites her lip before taking one quick glimpse at the mirror and walks towards the door. 

AT THE RESTAURANT 

Because Y/N and Bruce had a reserved table at the restaurant, Y/N was allowed in to wait inside. She ordered a glass of water and slowly sipped on it patiently waiting for Bruce. 

The time was already 9 PM and Bruce was supposed to be there, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Y/N didn’t want to seem annoying so she assumed he was running a bit late.  

The time was now nearing 10 PM. She was more worried than upset so she wrote to Bruce in hopes he’ll answer. 

“Hey, I’m already inside. Where are you?” 

She knew she wouldn’t get an immediate answer but her eyes were still glued to the phone waiting for Bruce's status to go from ‘offline’ to ‘online’. The status never changed and he never answered. 

10.35 PM

Y/N legs were furiously and uncontrollably bouncing up and down under the table. She was having a lot of anxiety. She was scared that Bruce was locked up somewhere getting tortured. 

She tried to ignore those types of thoughts but it was still something that bothered her. Messages such as; “Where are you?”, “Honey, answer please”, “Should I come over?” were being sent to him. 

The distressed woman tucks some hair behind her ear as she looks at the empty seat in front of her. 

11 PM

At this point Y/N had given up on sending messages. She had lost her appetite and ended up playing mobile games to spend time. She was so into her game she didn’t notice the well dressed man in front of her. 

She finally noticed a presence in front of her. As she was looking downwards she saw black dress shoes making her happily look up

“I knew you’d come-,” she said excitedly. Her excitement quickly cut when she saw the face. It wasn’t her man. 

“Ma’am, we are forced to ask you to leave as a young couple rented the entire  restaurant for themselves. They should arrive in a few minutes so you unfortunately have to leave.” 

Y/N looked down at her phone to check if she’d gotten a message. None. 

She weakly smiled at the man before getting her purse and walking towards the door. When she got into her car she immediately burst into tears.

As she was about to drive off her phone buzzed. She wiped her tears before picking the phone up and read the message. 

“Sorry I couldn’t make it. I had a few things to discuss with Selina Kyle. Hope you have a good night, I love you.”

You’d think the “I love you” would make her feel better but instead she burst into tears once more realizing her boyfriend bailed on her for another woman. Ouch. 

(A/N: Hi. Hope you enjoyed reading this short little one-shot I recently thought of. I’ve been meaning to post something on this account and today I had some spare time to actually sit down and seriously try to write something. 

You’ll have to excuse my choice of words and grammar as English isn’t my first language (it’s not even my 3rd🤭) but yeah.. Hope you enjoyed it and don’t forget to follow, BYEEE!!)

[the-sonic-cafe]

Nutcracker (Sonic, Amy, Eggman)

Read the rest of it on Ao3 here: Sonic 12 Days of Christmas

Author's Note: I think this might be one of my favorite chapters I wrote for this story.

Jazzy Christmas music was piped through the speakers of the strip mall while crowds bustled in and out of different venues. Storefront windows showcased dazzling animatronic displays and a large, twinkling Christmas tree was placed in the center of the courtyard for all to admire as they passed.

Not that Sonic could enjoy the view. A stack of beautifully wrapped packages filled his arms. They were stacked high above the hero’s head, wobbling with every step he took.

“Come on, Sonic! We have a few more stores to hit!” Amy called ahead of him, bags hanging from her wrists.

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” he complained.

“Because you’re my friend and knew I was in need of a companion.” She then fell into a series of coughs which mysteriously sounded like it had the phrase ‘reverse psychology’ in it.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” she waved him off. “Oooo look! Think Tails needs a new sweater?”

Sonic groaned but trailed behind her.

The next ten minutes passed by in a monotony of multicolored wools as Sonic was dragged from rack to rack. “Ooo maybe this one? Oh, but this one would bring out the blue of his eyes!” Amy held up the two sweaters, “Which do you think, Sonic?”

“Tails will like either, Amy,” Sonic said. In all honesty, whatever she picked up for him would inevitably end up black and covered in oil from his workshop.

Amy’s eyes continued to dart back and forth between the two sweaters. Sonic knew he had to do something or else they would be here another half an hour. “You know, now that I think about it, I think he’d prefer the green one.”

“You’re right! That’s the one!” Amy exclaimed, placing the other one back on the rack. Sonic let out a sigh of relief that was followed a second later by Amy’s gasp, “Look over there! Are those more sweaters? Let’s check those out before we decide on this one!”

NoooooooOOOOOOOO! This was torture! Amy really should have brought Miss V along. Vanilla would love to shop with Amy! Maybe he could get out of this? Claim a stomachache or that Eggman—

A loud shriek froze both hedgehogs in their tracks.

“What was that?” Amy asked.

“Beats me, but I’m going to check it out!” Sonic said, depositing all the packages into Amy’s arms.

“Hey!” she shouted, but he was gone.

He zig-zagged through the hoards of people until he came across a large crowd pointing and screaming. He followed their gazes up, up, and up until wide eyes landed on the biggest nutcracker he’d ever seen. Its face reminded him of a certain mad doctors with its big bushy mustache.

“Hello, holiday shoppers,” Eggman’s voice echoed through the area as the Egg Mobile floated out from behind the nutcracker. “This is your soon-to-be ruler of the world speaking to inform you that Christmas has been canceled!”

The crowd gasped and Sonic continued to push his way forward. He needed to get a bit closer.

“Let it be known this is what happens when you take a man’s eggs and ham for your frivolous festivities!”

There were a series of screams as the nutcracker’s hand swept the mall’s large Christmas tree off the ground and tossed it right into its awaiting mouth. Powerful jaws crunched the tree until nothing remained. Eggman’s laugh could be heard over the poor tree’s demise.

Time to make his grand entrance!

“Yo, doc!” Sonic shouted. “Nice new toy! It’d be a shame if I had to break it.”

Eggman’s eyes zeroed in on his, “Sonic! What a surprise. Now I can crush you while I get rid of these obnoxious crowds!”

“You certainly can try,” Sonic grinned. Finally, some action!

Sonic shot off towards the robot and aimed to run up its leg—only to rapidly dodge left as a hand came swatting in his direction. Phew! That was a close one.

It was a thought too soon as the top of the nutcracker’s hat lifted and a missile shot out of it. The projectile was fast, and Sonic just managed to backflip out of the way. Unfortunately, the aftershock of the explosion sent him flying through on the storefront windows. He sat up to find himself in the back of a sleigh with an elf hat on his head. Shaking it off, he jumped to his feet. The crowds were all surging away from the robot. Distantly, he could see Amy commandeering the flow. He could always count on her! Now he didn’t have to worry about any bystanders.

            Speeding off once more, he avoided the onslaught of missiles and ran straight up the booted leg.

“Hey! Get off there, rodent!”

By the time the nutcracker began shaking its leg, Sonic was already up the chest and delivering a powerful kick to the bottom jaw. Sonic landed crouched on the ground and looked up. The nutcracker stumbled backward, but otherwise recovered quickly from the blow.

Eggman cackled, “My nutcracker is reinforced with a strong titanium alloy! You think a measly kick will harm it?”

Well, he wasn’t breaking through that!

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” Amy yelled, skidding to a halt next to him, hammer gripped tightly in her hands. “What’d I miss?”

Sonic grabbed Amy and dashed away as another missile shot towards them.  He slid into a home décor shop and deposited her back on the ground just as the rocket exploded a safe distance away from them. The two ducked behind the front window and carefully peered out at Eggman.

“Where did you go Sonic?” Eggman shouted, rapidly looking around the courtyard. “Surely the big hero didn’t get scared and run away!”

Sonic adjusted his sneakers, “Robot’s got great defense stats. A spin dash to the chest isn’t likely to solve anything.”

Amy’s mouth puckered in thought as she surveyed their surroundings. Suddenly, her eyes sparkled.

“Sounds like Eggman’s nutcracker could use some decorations!” Sonic cocked his head to the side, but Amy didn’t offer further explanation. She ran further into the store, “Go, keep him distracted!”

“Yes, ma’am!”  he saluted, fully trusting in whatever idea Amy had cooking.

He darted out of the store and held his arms out in the pose of a true showman, “Run away and miss the fun of gloating when I kick your butt? Never!”

Eggman spun the Egg Mobile around and grinned. “Fire!”

Multiple missiles rocketed out of the nutcracker’s hat. Sonic gracefully moved around the area, back flipping off walls and jumping over the fountain, easily dodging ever single projectile. He only momentarily winced at the thought of all the collateral damage. They needed to end this battle quick.

“Is that all you got?” Sonic taunted from on top a bench.

“Oh no! I have plenty more gift to share! Ho ho ho ho!” Eggman cackled.

He prepared to take off only for Amy to appear by his side holding up the end of the longest strand of garland he’d ever seen.

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall, right?” she smirked.

Sonic winked at her, “Clever and festive!” He jumped off the bench and grabbed the garland, “Time to deck his halls!”

The hero zoomed multiple times around the nutcracker’s feet.

“W—what are you doing?”

He worked his way up and around the nutcracker. Around and around and around. It was dizzying even for him.

“STOP!”

The garland reached its end as Sonic flipped off the nutcracker’s head, landing in front of it. “Christmas not your thing? How about Halloween! I’ve dressed your toy soldier up as a mummy!”

Grinding gears protested in their attempt to move.

“Shall we?” Amy asked, holding up her hammer.

“Let’s do it to it!”

Sonic revved up into a tight ball as Amy swung her hammer. It was never a pleasant feeling being slammed with her piko piko hammer, but boy was it effective! He collided into the nutcracker’s chest and sent it toppling backwards. Concrete cracked from the impact and the nutcracker was left sparking.

“C—curse you, Sonic and Amy!” Eggman shouted, waving a fist at the two of them before making a hasty retreat.

Sonic landed next to Amy and brushed off some dust from the rubble, “Well, that was certainly eventful. Think you’ve checked everything off your list?”

“I think so.” Amy tapped the side of her cheek as the police slowly made their way onto the scene. “What do you think set Eggman off like that?”

“Does there have to be something?” Sonic shrugged.

“He yelled something about eggs, crowds, and Christmas being canceled?”

“He’s a loon. He probably just woke up and felt like being annoying.”

“Think there is a reason he hates Christmas?”

Sonic rolled his eyes, “Amy, are you really going to try to psychoanalyze Eggman?”

“Sorry, sorry! Just typically people’s hatred for Christmas stems from—”

Sonic placed a hand on his hip, “Amy.”

“Right, right, sorry!”

[garglyswoof]

A small Klaroline drabble bc i miss writing, no promises I'll ever do more than this, but wrote this in an hour based on this amazing prompt.

Some friends joined for the sprint and I'm looking forward to seeing what comes out of their brains! If you see this, feel free to write on this prompt too and tag me, whatever ship!

---------------------------------

Long as I Can See the Light

The night is dark and full of horrors, and she is very much one of them. Dried blood cracks on fingers clutched tight on the wheel for the 24th straight hour of hurtling towards a ten year inevitability. She runs a tongue along her teeth, the taste of copper still strong despite the hour. She is shaking, shaken, what she calls vampire guilt lighting her synapses, images flashing across her field of vision. Elena lying still, Stefan’s face anguished above her, the stabbing motion through a chest wall, the feel of a heart in her hands. It still beats, for a moment, after it’s removed, did you know? An unbidden reminder of life clinging in spite of it all.

Caroline’s never been sure she’ll ever get over those moments, and now she’s not sure if magic will let her. She feels the panic rise, a physical sensation that has her clutching the wheel harder, blowing air out through her nose, calm breaths one two in out calm calm calm.

Panic won’t help this situation, not in the least, and the only thing that will is close enough that now the panic shifts focus to the coming reunion. 

What’s he been doing all this time? Would he even remember her? She’s pretty sure the answer is yes. After all, she's had quite a bit to worry about on her plate yet somehow she still found time to remember the rasp of his stubble on her thighs. Not now, Caroline.

God.

The smell of the city hits her like a freight train, sweet decay, earth and muck and something ageless and unnamed beneath the typical scents of civilization. She glances down at her phone in the passenger seat, a chipper Australian voice telling her to turn off on the next exit for Esplanade and tries to ignore the smudges beneath her eyes, stark in the rearview mirror. There’s just no time to look her best. She isn’t even sure what time she has, whether things had already been set in motion the moment her hand sliced through that man’s rib cage. 

She isn’t sure of anything except that Klaus is the only one who will know what to do.

-----------------------------------

Klaus steps back from his work, eyeing the canvas with a thousand years of experience. Something about the light source is off, and he rocks forward, using a palette knife to daub shadows amidst the light. It's fixed now, masterful even if he says so himself, but somehow not enough. 

Nothing really is these days. He knows and recognizes the ennui of an eternal existence, but that certainly doesn't make it easier to bear. Maybe someone needed killing. Maybe he needs to see the Northern Lights again. Maybe he needs to torture Rebecca. Something, anything to break up the monotony which spreads years out like taffy, stretching beyond human lifetimes, beyond anything but his own kind's lifetimes. 

And there is the rub - immortality is, in the end, unbelievably boring. What new things to see and delight in when you’ve experienced it all? It becomes a matter of degrees, a matter of who you share those experiences with. His thoughts flash to a place he’d pretended long buried. He lets go of the pretense in times like these, testing the weight of promise like a tongue against a loose tooth - funny the things that stick with you through the millenia - and thinks of breaking it.

He won’t. He knows this, but the act of testing the bonds makes him feel like he’s in control of this feeling; this strange, heart-flipping, enraging and exhilarating feeling. He thinks of checking in on Mystic Falls but the last time he did he had severed the head of the reporting hybrid with the force of his thrown mobile, and he didn’t need to see what surprises Kol would program into his replacement phone this time. 

He inhales in an action long useless and looks at the canvas, the play of shadows and light, and reaches a hand out to play god. Voices rise, a sussuration that reaches through the plaster, and he sets down his palette with annoyance, deciding that if art isn’t the answer, perhaps a spot of death would be.

He descends the staircase, hand trailing down the antique balustrade, fingers picking up trails of dust he’ll need to eat the housekeeper for, and approaches the voices. Two men - some of his guards, Thierry and Alan perhaps, and a higher pitched voice interrupting, tone demanding with a note of desperation behind it that his mind latches on to before the rest of his thoughts catch up and he realizes that Caroline Forbes is in his foyer, her form emerging as he rounds the landing, her legs bare, covered in blood and her face sallow and oh, the dichotomy of vampire, he hates it, he hates himself, he hates her, he thinks she is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Caroline?” His voice betrays nothing to her, and he watches her stifle a flash of annoyance that almost makes him smile.

“Hi, Klaus. Can you get your lackeys to back down? No offense, lackeys,” she says, offering one of the vampires clutching her arm a bright smile. “I just know how he is.”

They drop her arms at a word and step away, leaving the two of them standing alone in the foyer. The sound of locusts whirring outside is almost overwhelming as she lifts her eyes to his, searching.

He’s not sure if she finds what she’s looking for, but she speaks anyway, her eyes bright and trembling.

“I killed a hunter last night, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

[wetcatspellcaster]

The way I GASPED when I saw the notification of a new chapter ❤️❤️❤️

They are so sweet, so awkward, I love them 😭

I loved the subtle smut, that focused more on emotions, making sure everyone is safe, and just oh. It felt so intimate, so gentle, it made me tear up, I was so happy their first sex scene was like that. Hot, but tender. You did such a great job balancing everything. In a work like this, I find sudden burst in very detailed smut a big dissonance, but here it looked perfect. The push and pull, the humor, the fears, all that persisted throughout the whole fic, is still there.

It had been years for them, and a decade of different kind of torture, and they are still... Them. It warmed my heart.

I had never expected a chapter with sex, because you mentioned you were not comfortable writing it, but when I read it. When I read it, let me tell you, it was pure perfection.

I can imagine how nervous it must have been posting this chapter. And it was gorgeous. It was so good. You opened the characters further (he he), you made it feel so domestic after that initial awkwardness between them, and oof.

Also, Rose. I'm ten years younger than her, but oh how I feel her 😂 thank you for showcasing those fears and self-consciousness and those PAINS. I love her so much. I'm so sad that there is only one chapter left, but I'm so glad I got to read this story at all.

Thank you again. I'll go cry over how beautiful those two disasters are.

thank you, beloved anon, I'm glad that you enjoyed it 💖

I said in a previous ask that I don't want to claim the chapter as smut, but I'm pleased it read that way! I didn't expect to write a chapter with sex either, but it just felt like the right call for the story, for the reasons I talk about here. I guess that might be why there's no dissonance, it was just a thing I figured would be in-character and then I wrote it as in-character as I could.

And yeah, I know it's kinda cringe to have to cast mobility spells or change things when they feel weird and not immediately have the best fucking orgasm of your life in this moment that you've built up into this massive deal in your head bc you're nervous and feeling a lot of emotions but... the more I thought about it, the more I realised that the mindblowing sex is like, three rounds in. The first time there's too much pressure.

Anyway, it's less smut and more a scene where we get to see what Rose would be like in a safe space. When the Ascendent tried to label her praise kink, or called her old, she brushed it off bc she didn't allow herself any vulnerability around him. When she nearly fucked him on a throne, she wasn't in her real body with its real weaknesses. All of the things she rejects in the chapter are reminiscent of non-consensual encounters, but that means there's an admission of the parts she enjoyed as well.

I'm was nervous bc it felt more like a character study and um... that's not what I'm reading smut for, I'll be candid. But unfortunately for me my first foray into none fade-to-black happened in the saddest fucking fic I've ever fucking written, so this is what we get lads. There's much hotter porn elsewhere but this is the ending to this particular story.

I'm glad that you enjoyed it, and felt like it fit the tone of the work! I felt like it fit as well. I wouldn't have posted it if I didn't, and I wouldn't have written it just to put some sex in there bc honestly? There are people that can do that job 10,000 x better than me lmfao.

Thank you for messaging ! x

[thewhumpcaretaker]

♟

⚜ 𝓐𝓼𝓴 ��𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽: 𝒫𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅 𝒶 𝒲𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 ⚜

Aaaa okay so there's two pawn symbols and I initially mistook your ask for the white pawn because it was really small on mobile. So I already wrote the "sharing a bed" prompt and it's here if you want to see it! But then I realized my mistake and wrote this one too, for "patching up a wound." I guess you get a bonus fic, haha! :')

This is an alternate POV from the first chapter of Beyond Judgement! What was it like for Vincent to willingly let his worst enemy touch him to treat his gunshot wound?

TW: hurt/no comfort (kind of - John is trying to do everything he can, but Vincent doesn't see it yet), gunshot wound, dissociation, shock

The first scream whited out his vision. It wasn't just pain, it was the feeling of cold tweezers pressed against something internal that was never supposed to feel pressure. It was the hard, slick metal of the bullet dragging against his insides on the way out. It felt wrong. He did bite down on the tie in spite of himself, his eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched into the fabric of the couch cushions almost hard enough to tear them. When he came back to himself a moment later, he was gasping.

No anesthetic in the house, insufferable. Fuck you, Wick. You show-off. Barely even human. "This is gonna sting." His outrage gave him just enough fuel to scream, muffled, through the splash of antiseptic into the bullet wound, burning like hellfire inside him. It was worse than the tweezers by a long shot. He really yowled, like some wild cat. He had to stop making so much noise. Stop giving this asshole the satisfaction. When his eyes had finished rolling back in their sockets, he tilted his head up to scrutinize the face of the man he hated. He had to be enjoying this. Had to be gloating over every sound Vincent made.

But his face was impassible as he dabbed at the edges of the bullet hole. No sign of pleasure. Yeah, well...he was probably just a mindless brute anyway. Somehow that was even more embarrassing. Vincent wasn't even enduring torture, just being prodded by some nobody who didn't care one way or the other if he lived or died. And yet he was making a scene over it.

As if this couldn't get any worse, John picked up a needle. "Stitches."

Why bother with the warning, asshole? It doesn't make it hurt any less. But he needed all his focus to hold his breathing steady. He felt faint. Don't scream again. He locked his jaw in place and his eyes onto John's face, refusing to look away from him this time. He was going to glare at him through this entire process.

The needle began to rise and plunge and he held his breath in the effort not to cry out. Narrowly, he succeeded in shoving everything down. The pain seemed to settle into his bones instead, a deep tension freezing him slowly in place. What was happening to his body? He was getting so cold. Tighten up even more, don't shake. Mercifully, the center of his chest was starting to go numb. Everything was a little numb, in fact. Maybe he had simply short circuited and couldn't feel anything more. Well, good enough...but he hated the way it made him want to lie down, to go to sleep, to be in something resembling an embrace. In the wake of rage, a despair sunk into him.

John's face suddenly seemed very abstract, very far away. He could look at it for what it was - a heavy, soft thing, bristling with stubble, soulful and dark beneath brows knit together. He looked almost...concerned. What could he possibly be thinking? Pitying me, probably. He was too humiliated to even hate him for it. He just let his eyes go dead and rode out the deep wave of shame that rocked through him.

It was then that his phone went off. It was a welcome distraction - anything to get him out of this woozy trance. If one more thing went wrong, he felt ready to break entirely...

[superman86to99]

Worlds Collide: The Milestone Side, Month 2 (August 1994)

The conclusion to our somewhat messy coverage of this crossover, but to be fair, it was kind of a messy crossover to begin with. RECAP: Worlds are colliding! Fred is getting upset! As in Fred Bentson, the seemingly omnipotent mailman who can travel between the DC Universe and Milestone's Dakotaverse and thinks he's dreaming one or both of those worlds. After being tortured by unscrupulous assholes who were trying to exploit his power, Fred turned himself into a big ugly being called Rift and threw a tantrum, with dire consequences for our heroes (and our villains)...

Hardware #18

At last, the tale of why John Henry Irons was wearing nothing but boxer shorts in Man of Steel #36 can be told! After digging themselves out of the destruction caused by Rift's little temper tantrum, Hardware and his boss/nemesis Edwin Alva (one of the assholes mentioned above) decide to contact their enemy on the DC side, Hazard (the other asshole), so they can work together to save both their worlds. After all, that's where they keep all their stuff.

Hazard suggests recruiting "an inventor of his acquaintance," meaning John/Steel, the guy his lackeys have been trying to kill in the Steel series. Steel agrees to the awkward team up. Meanwhile, Hardware recruits an enemy of his own, some teleporting lady called Transit. In other words, everyone in this comic hates each other.

Thanks to Transit, the gang is able to create an "interdimensional space between the worlds" (don't call it a Pocket Universe). Steel and Hardware get to work on a machine that can contain Rift, and after a while, John tells his lab partner that he's "absolutely brilliant" and he's learned a lot from him. Hardware is like "yes."

That's when Steel notices that Hardware is adding something to the machine that will actually kill Rift instead of just trapping him. Steel isn't willing to do that, but he is willing to kick Hardware's ass to prevent it. Unfortunately, Hardware has the advantage of being a sneaky bastard who plays dirty, so he ends up beating Steel by throwing a "nano acid" at him that eats all of the metal in John's armor. There's no metal in John's undies, though. Hence: boxers.

Despite being powerless, Steel still won't back down and says the whole reason he's a superhero is to prevent his inventions from killing people (even giant, universe-destroying ones). He eventually wears Hardware down and they agree to build a non-lethal trap for Rift... after they make John some new (metal) pants, that is.

Icon #16

After the events of Man of Steel #36, in which Rift tried to force Superman and Icon to fight in Metropolis to determine which one gets to exist in his new continuity, he transports both of them to Dakota and gives them a new deal: if Superman defeats Icon, Rift will undo Lex Luthor's actions from Action #700 and un-destroy Metropolis. He even transports Lex to Dakota for a couple of panels, just to show off his powers. I'm not clear on whether this is an illusion by Rift or if he really gave Lex his hair and body mobility back for a moment, for some reason.

And if Icon wins, Rift will un-destroy his city. Wait, when something happen to Dakota? Right after Rift said that, since he unfreezes that tsunami he'd stopped in Superboy #7 and lets it hit the city.

Now that both heroes are properly motivated, the actual fight begins (with each one thinking they'll help the other once they win). Icon knows that Superman has the upper hand, since he's more powerful and also literally Superman, so he uses the one thing he has to his advantage: his giant Image Comics-style cape.

At one point, Icon says that "Lacking either a supply of kryptonite or the raw power of Jessica Fletcher, I'm forced to resort to other means to deal with you." Is Murder, She Wrote about some sort of powerful lady warrior in the Dakotaverse? Is she still played by Angela Lansbury? I kinda wanna see that version.

Superman and Icon seem pretty even, until Rift stops the fight and says he's realized that perhaps he doesn't have to choose between one world or the other. That sounds pretty good, until we see him grabbing both planets and crashing (or, you know, colliding) them into each other. The cataclysmic results are shown in Steel #7, which is followed by...

Blood Syndicate #17

What with all the cities crashing into each other and the mass casualties and stuff, everyone forgot about the Blood Syndicate, including Rift. So, when he's musing about streamlining his new combined world's continuity and they attack him (having just learned he drowned all of their friends and families), Rift retcons that rowdy bunch into a group of obedient little boys and girls sitting in a classroom. The "obedient" part doesn't last too long, though...

Since they didn't like that corny revamp, Rift turns them into something more EXTREME: the Underappreciated Ex-Gang, a group of muscular superheroes with various ethnic accents who have sworn to protect a world that hates and underappreciates them.

The funniest part is Aquamaria, who seemingly died in Superboy #7, reappearing as a phoenix made of water and giving a dramatic speech until she remembers she doesn't speak English and says "¿Pero qué carajo estoy haciendo aquí?"

The Ex-Blood Syndicate rebels against their retcon once again, so Rift decides there's just no place for them in his continuity and turns them into metal statues, just like the ones the Legion of Super-Heroes has for dead heroes. That similarity is no coincidence, as we'll see in the next issue...

Static #14

This oversized issue serves as the climax for the crossover. Right away, we find out that Rift didn't just revamp the Blood Syndicate: he revamped the entire combined DC/Milestone universe into a futuristic utopia protected by a large group of teenage superheroes. Static (or "Static Lad" as he's called now), being a huge nerd, instantly recognizes the reference: it's all based on the classic League of Superteens comics from the '50s, of course.

(Yes, superheroes in the '90s were very concerned with their hair.)

Static, Rocket ("Rocket Gal"), and Superboy ("Fabulous Boy") don't know where the other heroes are, so Static uses his genre-saviness to find them by consulting the LoST's Mission Monitor, which shows where every member is at any moment. My favorites on the long list are "Mall Hair Girl (on patrol)," "Dough Boy III (ret-conned)," and "Procrastination Lad (late)."

The superteens are able to find everyone except Superman and Icon, because they ended up stuck in the interdimensional void with the anti-Rift trap that Steel and Hardware made. While Rift is distracted forcing the superteens to fight the statues that used to be the Blood Syndicate, the armored geniuses are able to stretch a little portal made by Transit so that Superman, Icon, and the big trap machine can come through, which looks... painful.

Superman and Icon fly the trap towards Rift, and from his perspective it looks just like the freaky nightmare monster that had been haunting him since the start of the crossover (which is a nice bit of foreshadowing). The only problem is that the trap's battery is sort of busted due to the rough trip out of the interdimensional void -- and that's where Static comes in, because this is his comic and he deserves to get the big heroic moment. Static shoots a big burst of electricity into the trap as it catches Rift, and...

We see Superman, Superboy, and Steel back in Metropolis, and everything is back to normal (meaning Metropolis is still destroyed, but at least Superboy's fade cut is back). They lament the fact that their friends in the other universe were obviously not real, while in Dakota, the Milestone heroes think the same thing about them. So, the crossover ends with every single thing that happened in it being undone... except for Rocket kissing Static, since she does it again.

The last page shows Fred Bentson floating in a black void in his pajamas, doing the one thing he wanted to do all those years: sleeping in peace.

According to the DC wiki, Fred has reappeared exactly three times since this crossover: first in Justice League of America #34 (2009) and Milestone Forever #2 (2010), which explain that a mystical dude called Dharma found Rift napping outside of reality and used his powers to stitch the Dakotaverse into the DC Universe and prevent the former's destruction. More recently, in Milestone 30th Anniversary Special (2023), a younger version of Fred appears in the current Milestone earth and causes its heroes to meet their counterparts from the original Dakotaverse, until everything is sorted out thanks to Dharma, the Statics, and the power of group therapy.

This is a weird-ass crossover, mainly due to the "big bad" being a dweeb who seems to change his motivation with every other chapter (from "just leave me alone" to "I wanna be a superhero" to "destroy one universe" to "clean up the continuity"). However, the entire point was to introduce more readers to the Milestone characters and I think it does that pretty well: you get a good sense of who everyone is and what their comic is about. If I'd had the chance as a kid I probably would have continued checking out Static and maybe Blood Syndicate, just because that "Ex-Gang" gag was pretty funny.

Anyway, hope you're not fed up with crossovers starring dozens of characters and multiple realities, because we've got a biggie coming up...

Missed an issue? Looking for an old storyline? Check out our new chronological issue index!

[jorisjurgen]

The Crepin-Lore Manifesto.

Part 1: The Background

It is the end of the semester, and I have assignments due, finals to get ready for... So, obviously, I wrote the longest trio of posts in my blog's entire history.

In this little (lol) character analysis/information compilation, I will try to show you that:

1. That something really indescribably weird/evil is going on with Kerubim Crepin and Atcham Crepin's history, because really, we don't know a lot about their childhood, but what we do know, doesn't paint a pretty picture.

2. They are very fascinating characters, especially Atcham, and their story is underappreciated, or entirely unknown in the greater fandom.

Besides that, I also to make some obscure info, from side-media, more accessible.

However, this part of the analysis will be about common misconceptions and background information that will inform the rest of the analysis.

"Are they really full-on brothers?"

When I was rewatching Wakfu last year, I asked this, since I hadn't really thought about it.

The answers I got were very... diverse, and more confusing than anything. Most wikis listed them as "brothers or half-brothers", which added to the confusion.

However, 3-4 rewatches of Dofus + getting deep into the franchise later, and I know the answer.

Yes. They are full brothers, without any ambiguity on the question.

They share both a father - God Ecaflip, and a mother - an unknown mortal woman who's last name was Crepin.

Atcham's full name is Atcham Crepin. He does not contest it, and Dardondakal has no reason to lie.

And, as a second, slightly more ambiguous piece of evidence, Kerubim implies here that he and Atcham come from a different litter than Ush. Litter being a word that describes a group of kittens born to the same mother, at the same time.

Because Kerubim talks of his past life in the Dofus MMO, we know that ecaflip demigods keep their memories of past lives, so it is his first-hand knowledge, and not something that was told to him.

[Dofus MMO - Quest: Du rire en barre / Laughing Matter]

(Both original and translated dialogue, for posterity.)

(So, yeah, cough-cough. Kerubim and Atcham are, pretty much, all but confirmed to be fraternal twins. Just like Flopin and Eleley.)

"Twins... Are you sure that God Ecaflip didn't just have multiple kids with one woman?"

This is certainly a possibility, especially with Atcham repeatedly calling Kerubim his older brother... Perhaps the litter line is more figurative.

However... It would be pretty out of character for Ecaflip, with the information we have from Wakfu Raiders.

...Listen, I knooow, It's a discontinued mobile game, but you have to understand, it's the only thing we have to judge Ecaflip's treatment of his lovers, ok?

The important thing is that he doesn't seem to care about them, after he's done. Neither does he seem to care about the demigods that result from his romantic exploits, when we look at his treatment of Yakusha, Atcham, and, yes, even Kerubim.

And even if he cared, he still wouldn't stick around. Mortals don't live long enough to get attached.

All of Ecaflip's love for Kerubim stems from one fact - he's entertaining to him.

His love is deep, but it's not parental. It doesn't depend on who his mother was, or if he's happy. It depends on the fact that Kerubim obeys him, serves him, is a good person and a hero, and takes any punishment or attention he gives him, while being fun to sometimes torture, test and play with.

Even if Ecaflip's treatment of him is horrifying, he can't help but be proud of it himself. Especially when this tough love had taught him some things.

But, despite the sugarcoating he applies to his feelings while raising Joris - because his son doesn't deserve the misfortune of knowing all that - it's pretty obvious that even though he loves Ecaflip back, not all of his feelings towards him are warm.

...But before any of that that, Kerubim was simply one of many orphan demigods without a home, a family, or a mother, about all of whom Ecaflip cared just as little.

It's pretty likely that he probably wouldn't even recall that woman's name.

"About the family - what about the time Kerubim said that he was the last Crepin in his family?"

Okay... Nobody would ask this. I am certainly THE only person on this planet who even cares. But, I do have an answer to this.

Anyway, here's a giant, seemingly-unrelated-at-first-glance tangent:

Kerubim Crepin, and the 30-40 instances of accidental Cluster B coding.

To preface this section, I am perfectly aware that it is a bit selfish, to shove my personal headcanons and interpretations of him having comorbid BPD and HPD, something that is entirely unintended by the writers, and simply my observation of his personality, into my analysis of lore post. And neither am I a psychologist.

However, even without these two headcanons, I cannot write this analysis without ever mentioning this - because I am going to be discussing his canonical, unhealthy behavior patterns, coping mechanisms, and emotional turmoil.

They all go unnamed, but they are present in the show, down to it's core. My headcanons are, at best, me putting a name to his struggles.

Kerubim Crepin struggles with being blind to other people's emotions, having very low cognitive empathy.

His emotions are intense to the point of dissociation. He often has wrong ideas of how close his relationships to people actually are.

Besides that, he's prone to impulsive behaviors that damage those already shaky relationships.

His defense mechanism is splitting, switching at a moment's notice between idealizing and devaluing someone.

It happens, in some ways, with pretty much everyone he loves.

And most importantly, Kerubim Crepin is terrified of being alone, of being abandoned.

His struggles are, no doubt, rooted fully in his childhood trauma, which I shall discuss in the next post. But until then, a very broad assessment of his mental health and personality issues is good to keep in mind.

Whether you agree with my headcanons or not - these are simply his character traits, which I had based said headcanons on - and, even without them, these facts are important facets to understanding him, no matter what you name them.

With this, I had finally established the foundation for the next part, where I will discuss the actual Childhood bits of his backstory, and get started on talking about Atcham.

...And yeah, the reason why he would say that he's the last Crepin, is because with how broken their relationship is - Atcham is dead to him, as much as he is dead to Atcham.

But where do all these issues, these struggles, and pains come from?

I will discuss that in the next part.

[PART 2]

[journaldetruthwatcher]

I've read what I've written in horror. Shimmer has been screaming in what I assume is pain for the past three hours. The cremlings that I assume are possessed by Mistspren watch me. They stare and I hear whispers.

My mind and memories are full of holes. I know I should hate what I've done, from a logical standpoint. I know that I have ceased to be Human, I know that what I plan will cause more suffering.

I physically can't feel bad about it anymore. One of my shattered memories is of me tearing that out from myself. The empathy that prevented me from seeking answers.

If anyone finds my notes, Hemalurgy as outlined here creates a new being and tortures any bonded spren. I think my lucidity will end in the coming minutes. I am not strong enough to stop myself, and for that I feel I must apologize.

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The Parshendi are nothing like I remember. They use Warform, but they don't have any of the Fused or even Thunderclasts.

I feel like I've made this observation before...

As I am not technically an Ardent, I can own things, though only a small amount of things, like a low nobleman, but I have to remain in the service of a noble. So, I've found myself in the employ of one Torol Sadeas.

Regardless, I've recommended to Sadeas the strategy of expendable and mobile bridgemen. It allows for a far larger area of influence and a quicker response.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

He accepted my suggestion! Wonderful! The benefits were made up, luckily the theory seems to work well enough. Really I just wanted to scavenge from the fallen.

Sadeas has been willing to grant me my rather unorthodox requests, metals and access to the forges primarily. Though he does seem wary of me, I suppose that is reasonable, I am in a unique position as far as Ardents go.

Despite the assumption that we will be leaving in a few months, I've allowed the familial units to build homes and begin attempts at cultivating the land.

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Familial units update; Attempting a small amount of regrowth on them after every high storm seems to yield results. It's taken months to be noticeable, but it is noticeable. Shimmer and the other Mistspren think that in 2...perhaps 3 generations, they will become independent similar to Humans. Disparaging yet hopeful progress. We'll get there eventually.

In other news; I've grafted on a few more traits onto myself, though, despite reinforcing my investiture and mind, I can feel myself reaching my limits. Since my body gets refined through the bond, I will see if the Mistspren can help me through my experiments with connection...but I would have to go all the way back to the Cognitive Realm, and I'm nowhere near the perpendicularity...It is interesting how some of the others around camp have begun avoiding stepping on cremlings due to the small swarm that follows me. Some of them aren't even possessed by Mistspren! Though Shimmer calls them 'cognitively weird', very scientific verbiage, thank you Shimmer. She is yelling at me not to write that joke as I wrote it and am writing this.

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The old acquaintance is that Mistborn I had helped once or twice on Scadrial! What are the odds? Anyways, he made this little club and has invited me to join, incentivizing me with hemalurgic research. I obviously joined and got this little angular tattoo on my inner wrist. Though, I do have to go elsewhere for the research.

Lucky too, there were some Highspren hanging out around the camp recently and Sadeas was beginning to want answers to my 'mercy killings' of the Bridgemen, I got a bit carried away and nearly annihilated Bridge 4...

Welp, that will be his problem soon to deal with, the slave caravans are scheduled to visit in a few days, he can pick up flesh there.

[annoyangle]

"Don't you Fordsy me, Cipher. Your stupid games don't work like you think they do. I'm not desperate, I'm not crawling, and I'm not begging. I'm confronting you like a grown man and telling you to stop. Just stop. You are accomplishing absolutely NOTHING by dumping your trash everywhere."

Ford narrowed his eyes at Bill's "explanation." At some point, it started raining books. Some of them thanked against his head with a metallic sound. He looked beyond done. "I want the exact opposite of a connection with you. A complete severance. I want you out of my life FOR GOOD. I'm not buying into your lies or pleas for sympathy."

He rolled his eyes. "My "unresolved issues" have nothing to do with you, and I don't want to even begin to fathom what's going on with YOUR unresolved issues. I don't care."

At some point, he was just randomly shooting the books back into the oblivion they spawned from. He gave Bill a skeptical look. A VERY skeptical look. There was malice and burning rage lit through his eyes. He took a deep breath and shot a few more books out of the air. "All right. Fine," he said, flatly.

"FINE!" he said, venom in every letter of the word. "I "overreacted" when I discovered the imminent threat you posed to my universe by refusing to do what you wanted and keeping the portal turned off like ANY sensible person in my position would have. I "overreacted" when I responded to your threats and LITERAL PHYSICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL TORTURE with fear, distrust, hatred, and even MORE of a refusal to do what you wanted because whatever you wanted with me and my universe at that point OBVIOUSLY wasn't going to be puppies and rainbows. Are you happy? Are we done here? Get your book and while you're at it, everything that you ARE out of my LIFE."

[WHILE FORDSY RANTS AND RANDOMLY SHOOTS AT THE BOOKS THAT START RAINING DOWN ON HIM - BECAUSE HONESTLY, BILL THINKS THAT'S PRETTY FUNNY! - BILL JUST KINDA HOVERS THERE IN MID-AIR. SLOW BLINKS. ARMS AND LEGS DANGLING CASUALLY FROM HIS BASE. BODY BOBBING GENTLY UP AND DOWN. EYE GIVING A BIT OF AN IMPRESSION OF A RAISED EYEBROW WHICH IS SOMETHING, CONSIDERING HE DOESN'T HAVE EITHER BROW OR MULTIPLE EYES.] WOW. JUST. WOW. [SNAPS FINGERS; THE BOOK RAIN CEASES. HE THINKS; HE DECIDES. THE BOOKS VANISH. BILL VANISHES. JUST LIKE THAT.

BUT THERE IS ONE LAST HEAVILY BURNING PIECE OF PAPER THAT FLUTTERS DOWN IN FRONT OF THE HUMAN'S EYE. IT'S FROM ONE OF THE PAGES FORD HIMSELF "WROTE", THE IMAGE OF HIS BABY SELF WITH STAN'S BABY SELF - REACHING FOR A YELLOW TRIANGLE OVER HIS HEAD IN HIS BABY MOBILE. THEN THE IMAGE EVAPORATES IN A LAST LITTLE PUFF OF BRIGHT FIRE AND SMOKE.]

[thehypnone]

OMG WAIT SORRY, ADDITION TO THE ASK THAT JUST SENT, BC I SAW AND REMEMBERED ABOUT YOUR TAIL AMPUTEE RAIN AFTER IT

Obvi not having a tail is torture to keep yourself upright and do many things that your average ghoul is able to

I proposition rain with vertigo ((maybe this is me projecting too)) because it makes sense in my mind 'cause if he can't keep himself up easily without aids he could get dizzy too (here's where this goes to the last ask) ⭐WHEELCHAIR⭐

Trust I use a handheld cane to help with my mobility issues but I've also fell flat on my ass because it wasn't enough at the time when my vertigo would come in awful waves

Last bonus note before I go to bed: swiss is a fucking menace and will try to race rain around if rains feeling down in the dumps about being disabled (do you ever get like that or is that a me thing?)

Anywho!! Love your work as always 💗

AHHHH YES!!! i think a wheelchair for tail amputee rain would work beautifully and also aaaaa vertigo, i can totally see rain with that too!!! and YES swiss totally would!

(and yes, i think mental lows are as big of a part of being disabled as the physical flare ups are, unfortunately. i wrote rain with such a few times too, do not go away is mostly about a depressive episode caused by worsening of his health)

[fanatichistory]

Scene Prompt 21

Sorry I’m so inconsistent at posting lol ^.^’  This one is set during the renaissance period, though I left out the history and stuck with the whump to keep it short and sweet to read :) 

CW: cruel whumper, mentions of beatings, failed escape attempt, multiple whumpees/servants though I wrote in the perspective of one so the others are only mentioned

Whumpee quietly tapped their fingers against their leg as they counted in their head.  They were anxious, nervous and excited all rolled into one. 

Today was the day, after all. 

The day they escaped from here.

Last time, Whumper had tortured them for cooking dinner wrong. Whumpee had managed to sneak one of Whumper's torture tools into their smock before being thrown back into their locked servant's room for the night.

Whumpee was still thankful that they had a small servant's room to call their own, even if it was locked and they were kept inside when not working the chores. They could occasionally hear the screams from down the hall that emanated from the stairwell nearby that led to the dungeon.

That was why they had to get out. 

Escape before Whumper found that simply locking them in their room for the night was no longer enough punishment for them. That the simple beatings were just that.

Simple.

If Whumpee didn't escape today then it stood to reason that eventually Whumper would be so displeased in their work so as to put them in the dungeon with other servants.

Whumpee stiffly got up from their sitting position on the cold floor, tiptoeing their way to the door and pressing their ear against it. Waiting, listening for any source of noise to tell them what time in the night it was. 

Whumper liked to work in the dungeon at night, retiring only in the wee hours of the morning. It should be around 4am now, just before daybreak, if Whumpee's count was correct. 

Which meant it's now or never.

Whumpee brought out the tool they pilfered from Whumper earlier, thankful that today's beating and torture was light and that allowed them the ability to still move about. 

Whumper liked to keep them mobile and able to complete their daily chores so they never really broke any of Whumpee's bones.

But they bruised, tore out clumps of hair, ripped off nails and the like. Things that hurt like hell but still wouldn't keep Whumpee from work. One time, Whumper even removed one of Whumpee's teeth when they had bit Whumper in retaliation for pressing onto one of their bruises.

As the lock on the door clicked open it brought Whumpee's awareness back to the task at hand.  Relief and excitement bloomed in their chest as they cautiously cracked open the door and peeked out.

Nothing in the hallway but the chirping of birds waking up in the morning. That was good. 

Taking one step and then another, Whumpee tried to control their nervous energy and keep their steps quiet despite the bruising injuries from earlier.

Their hand moved to grip the cold iron handle to the servant's door of the kitchen leading outside to the courtyard, and beyond that the stables where they could steal their freedom, Whumpee’s heart pounded with adrenaline.

Whumper sat at the table, munching casually on bread and cold cheese in the early morning hours as they watched Whumpee think they were sneaking past them, not seeing them in the dark but navigating well by memory alone it seemed.

It also seemed yesterday's beating wasn't punishment enough as Whumper smiled a slow, wolfish grin and turned to face their servant as they reached for the handle on the door.

"I can hear you Whumpee..." Whumper stood then and silently stalked over to Whumpee who had frozen still with fear at the door. 

"And I can see you too..." They whispered into their ear before reaching out to drag a kicking and screaming little servant down to the dungeon to receive the punishment of a lifetime for daring to run away.

[dojae-huh]

I’ll be waiting for your commentaries on Doyoung youth documentary! I think you’re really gonna like a lot of the contents during this promotional era. Thankful that promotion nowadays are not just about going to variety shows. Thanks to social media, we got to see him appear to talk shows and see him talks more. We’re seeing more of Doyoung who is not part of NCT. His thought process, his interaction with people outside of his circle or out of his field. I can see he’s a lot more confident too. He really says ‘This is who I really am’ through this era (album-wise and personality-wise). Despite being ambitious he’s also aware that this album will not appeal to all due to people’s preference. But most important thing to him, he’s satisfied with it. I learnt a lot from him through this album. Once again, you’re really gonna enjoy it!!

*sobs* Yeah, only in June. I'm in a new country, and the prices for mobile internet are insane here. Plus there are complications with buying a package in the first place giving my location and lack of a credit card. I have to severely safe on data. Unlimited is not even an option.

I see that Doyoung goes on a lot of programmes where he can sing live. It's really great he has the opportunity to do now what he had been longing for for so long (remember how he complained about his parts in NCT songs? "I will do what I have to do"). All his patience and perseverance is paying off.

I think, it is extremely hard to wait for postponed gratification (when an idol starts to invest blood and tears since day one of a trainee life), to see other, younger people, making it or doing what you want to do (like freshly debuted groups achieving more awards than NCT), add to it the loom of enlistment over male idols. Fortunately, in comparison to poor Taeil, and even Taeyong to a degree, Doyoung lucked out with the debut time window. I'm really happy for him and for his fans.

I also suppose that he got a full album because he found those additional 3 songs himself (one he wrote, one from Lucy's guy, maybe Kenzie's or the one with Mark can be counted as the 3d). As it is less about money, and more about finding enough of good songs that can go together. The songs were collected over a long time as well (Tae had less than a year after Shalala).

I said before that I don't find idol Jaehyun interesting, he is bland to me. (His real self I'm sure I will like, what's with the love for arts, old things and jazz). Doyoung is a different case, but mostly because I invest in knowing him and see past his fake facade of a cute trembling bunny. The real Doyoung is tenfold more charming than his idol image that he developed over the years in apprehension of antis and not his NCT fans. After his shift in image (from savage) there always was a difference between what he allowed to show being in a group setting with other 127 members versus his communication with his own fans. With his fans he was more honest (Doyoung/Dongyoung divide, fake boyfriend pictures, etc). And as a soloist he is even more sincere. I'm looking forward to seeing him open up in those interviews (he will never be not self-censored, but still).

I thought yesterday about Doyoung's words about standing out. To me, he is a more unusual and rare individual than even Taeyong. I guess "tortured artist" is a well-explored personality, heh. There are many of them in the industry. Meanwhile a "tribal chief" could be more often found behind the scenes, not on the pop-stage. And if they exist, they are not "seen". The idol culture exposes artists, shows them from many sides, it is very different from how pop-scene is elsewhere.

Real Doyoung gives off a lot of energy. Active positive energy. Many idols are a subject of desire (sex appeal), adoration (cuteness) or empathy ("mistreatment"), not many are "class presidents" (Hanbin seems to be one, btw), those who push you.

I'm sorry, I'm rambling, but Do's chant guide cracked me up. It heavily reminded me how he persuaded his class to participate in a choir competetion and led them to win it.

Doyoung: "Repeat after me. You all emit light, you are all fireflies and stars, you are all kind and meant for great things. You are my support, I'm your support. If I can do it, you can do it. Do like me, do better than me. Sing with me."