#if you think it's unrelated you just don't get it

[conkreetmonkey]

I mean it wasn't really "in disgrace" he never apologized for anything lmao Anyone else remember his YouTuber-ass "hi guys, I screwed up" apology video from a few months(?) ago where he literally did the *walks into room, sits in chair in front of desk-mounted camera to try to appear candid* thing (during which he never actually apologized for anything and kept insisting he HAD avoided a recession and saved the economy, despite his failure to do that being what he was "apologizing" for)? And then he very transparently tried to buy our votes by announcing he was getting rid of sales tax out of nowhere, and then just... resigned anyway?? Has he ever had a plan??? Is he flying by the seat of his pants???? Fuck, the conservatives are gonna win, aren't they... all but like one party is conservative anyway, so it's all but guaranteed. How do we have so many parties and ALL of them suck, like come on is ANYBODY EVER going to address the housing crisis and admit the economy isn't "booming" and the job market isn't "soaring" and there is no "labor shortage" but actually a WAGE SHORTAGE and MONOPOLY PROBLEM, and that the current immigration system is extremely exploitative in that it relies on luring people in with false promises only to trap them in shitty abusive low-wage jobs in a country where a shoebox studio apartment with mold is optimistically $1,250 a month before utilities, and a basic fast food combo is $17.50 before tax??? Sorry to rant. Just... ugh. I really thought Singh would be alright, but apparently he joined up with Trudeau, so now like... at the polls his year, do I pick: 🍁the "everything will continue to slowly fall apart while we twiddle our thumbs and insist everything is fine" party 🍁 the "we will accelerate the rate at which everything falls apart lol fuck you I hate you" party 🍁 the "we're GREEN but not really, and also like we're actually the "make everything Christian" party but don't really say it out loud lol" party 🍁 the "please let Quebec be its own country please oh please oh please oh ple--" party (Americans, think Texas seperatists, but with a bilingual twist) 🍁 the "we're the people's party, we're for the people! Anyway so like first we need to bring back conversion therapy, completely disregard the environment, fuck immigrants, fuck trans people, also we need to restart the abortion debate guys--" party This country is fucking BONED. Like, we're not actively death rattling and hacking up chunky blood like America is, and I think we tend to rest on our laurels because we'll always look good in comparison to that, because... we're almost just as fucked. Just absolutely "maybe it can theoretically be salvaged, but at this point it'd take a miracle" tier, double-decker triple-bypass FUCKED. Every one of these parties will make things far worse if elected. There are no good options. It's going to be 4 years of decline no matter what, the only question being how far and fast we go down into the sewer. ...unrelated, but any Europeans looking to marry a stranger rn?

[snakesafraidtodie]

Mediocre Reveal AU

So usually we see the Fentons in fic after finding out their son is Phantom, either being totally loving and supportive or horrendously hateful and destructive. But what if they were just... not great?

Like they try, right? But they still say bigoted and ignorant stuff. There's still micro-agressions. One reveal isn't gonna change anybody's entire world view. Just because they're not attacking Danny doesn't mean they're comfortable with it, accommodating or accepting of other ghosts.

"Those damn ghost scum!"

"I'm a ghost, remember?"

"Sure Dann-o, but you're different! You're not like them! You still hold onto your humanity. It's a heavy burden to bear, holding off the monster inside you, but you're doing so well and your mother and I are so proud of you!"

They could accept that he is a halfa but still dislike and discourage him from using his ghost side. Like coming out as bi to someone who thinks you should only act on your attraction to the opposite sex so that they can pretend you're straight.

It can be one of those things where you just... know your relatives have problematic views so in order to maintain the peace you just don't talk about it. I think it's pretty normal to have certain topics you avoid with certain people. Or try. There's always those family gatherings where you know you'll just have to grit your teeth as your uncle spews BS again.

So sure, if Danny understandably doesn't want to talk about ghosts with his parents once he's an adult, they can have a two minute phone call once a month were he listens to the tiny bit of small town gossip unrelated that Maddy and Jack have deigned to pay attention to and share a bit about his mundane life in return.

It's not great, but they're still his parents and it could be worse. They could still be actively trying to End him.

I'm picturing this could be perfectly utilized in a Dead on Main fic where Danny's parents are pestering him to meet his boyfriend and he reluctantly agrees. So they all meet up for lunch and Jason notices how the Fenton's keep casually dropping these disparaging comments about ghosts and gets pissed on Danny's behalf. Jason tries to defend him, which leads to an argument, which leads to Jason declaring himself undead, which leads to the Fentons instantly becoming disapproving of their relationship.

"Danny, how could you pick such a person for a partner! It could worsen your condition!"

"Deadness isn't contagious Mom."

"Yeah lady-"

"Don't you start again, Jason! I told you not to start a fight with my parents!"

"Me? They're the ones spouting garbage! I'm just trying to educate the so called experts-"

"I'll have you know young man-!"

And the whole meeting falls apart. Jason is mad Danny won't let him defend him, Danny is mad Jason made a scene. The Fentons are mad that their son's boyfriend is a rude undead who is corrupting their boy. It's a mess. Y'know. Typical meeting the in-laws drama.

[heeambi]

= ࣪ 𑄾 ₊ ˙ An Unexpected Visiter ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ ᧔ꪫ ִ

࣪ㅤ⋆jake x f!reader ┊ light romance ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ vampire au ┊ 1.1k ┊shelf ࣪ㅤ⋆

᧔ A cozy night turns suspenseful when Y/n discovers a battered stranger—who turns out to be a vampire—on her porch. What begins as a tense encounter shifts into an unexpectedly lighthearted interaction ꪫ

Y/n was cozied up on her couch, the dim light of the TV lighting up the room as she became so consumed by her favorite show on TV. It was so quiet until a loud thud echoed across her house-literally reverberating off the walls-startling her out of her trance.

Confused, she frowned and instinctively looked toward the front door.

Curious, she turned off the show and stood up with a rise in her heart, racing for some concern mixed with curiosity and hesitant steps, she continued toward the door.

She finally approached the door and peered through the small window beside it, trying to get a glimpse of what, or who, could be on the porch.

She opened it and peered out to see nothing but the darkened outline of her house outside, for night had completely shrouded the sky.

Y/n took in a deep breath and unlocked the door, slowly pulling it open. softly, the hinges creaked-but it added to the atmosphere of dread. Her eyes enlarged ever so slightly in shock as she took in the sight before her. What is this? Or what is it…

It was an unfamiliar figure lying sprawled on her porch, its body battered and bruised, the shadows of the night obscuring much of its facial features. And for a moment, she stood frozen in place, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend what had just appeared on her doorstep.

Then, in the tight silence, that figure moved-a little, but it was enough to run a current of fear through the poor body of y/n. She jumped back instinctively, a small scream escaping her lips as she accidentally stumbled backward, her heart pounding so fast in her chest.

The door was ajar, and adrenaline surged through her as she stared down at the strange stranger, a mix of dread and concern coursing through her

His body rose up in such a supernatural way. He groaned as he clutched his side, not noticing the girl on the ground. Then he caught a scent that made him scrunch his nose.

Slowly, he turned, his hair falling into place as he glared down at Y/n. Her eyes widened further with each of his movements.

Your heart pounded against your chest as the figure shifted-he lifted himself up enough so he could plop himself up with one slow, languid movement-his disheveled, blonde hair fell right onto his face, and his dark eyes locked with yours.

Her whole body began to freeze every instinct in her body yelling at you to run, but her legs felt glued to the floor.

And for a moment, he just stared at you, his face unreadable. Then, he realized she was still standing there, he started to move, pushing himself up with a groan. His movements were slow, but deliberate, as if trying not to startle you.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as he shifted forward ever so slightly, his gaze soft but unrelenting. "Wait, let me explain—"

he started off low and hoarse.

But y/n didn't wait to hear what he had to say. you screamed, her survival instincts kicking in, and without thinking, she lashed out with her foot, aiming squarely for his torso.

Her kick landed with a very satisfactory thud, and the man-or whatever he was-released a strangled groan and collapsed onto his back like a ragdoll. He clutched his stomach, rolling slightly to the side as he muttered under his breath, "Ow, that hurt.”

Panting, y/n grabbed the nearest object-a potted plant-and held it above her head, ready to defend herself. "Stay there!" you began to shout, her voice shaking. "I don't know who you are, but if you move again, I'll-"

"Wait! Wait!" the stranger yelped, lifting one hand in surrender while the other clutched his stomach. His voice was rushed, almost frantic. "I'm not here to hurt you! I swear!

She narrowed her eyes, the plant still raised up high. "You're lying. You were about to attack me!"

He groaned again, shaking his head. "No, no, no. I wasn't attacking! I was just… trying to get closer so I could talk to you without, you know, collapsing." He gestured weakly to his battered body, then looked up at you with wide, almost puppy-like eyes. "You have a really strong kick, by the way. I think you might've cracked something.

Y/n hesitated, her grip on the pot faltering slightly as she took in his expression. Despite the situation, he didn't look threatening anymore. In fact, he looked downright pitiful, sprawled out on your porch like an injured stray.

"I—what?" you stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He let out a deep sigh, and his shoulders slumped as he sat up again this time, slowly and without jerky movements. "Look, I'm sorry I scared you, okay? I wasn't trying to. I just… I don't know how to handle this kind of situation."

"What kind of situation?" you demanded, still keeping your distance.

"The 'I'm hurt and some human is my only hope of survival' sort," he replied, the tint of exasperation to his tone oddly. It was sorta cute. "You're actually pretty intimidating, btw. I mean, I've dealt with way worse than you, but for some reason this is more daunting." He flashed a wry grin, fangs poking out.

Y/n stared. Surprised, even. "You're. really bad at this whole vampire thing, huh?"

His smile grew wider, and he ducked his head, an apologetic lean like a golden retriever that's just knocked over a lamp. "Not really," he confessed. "But in my defense, I wasn't anticipating getting kicked in the stomach tonight.

A small laugh escaped her lips despite her better judgment. y/n covered it up with a glare the instant it had escaped. "Don't think you're off the hook just because you're bad at being scary."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied most sincerely, his eyes alight with relief now that you weren't actively threatening him. "But, uh… maybe we could start over? I'm Jake. And I promise I'm not here to hurt you. Pinky swear."

Y/n lifted an eyebrow, unamused. "Pinky swear? Really?"

Jake nodded gravely, holding up his pinky. "It's a universal sign of trust. Pretty sure it applies to vampires, too."

You only rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching into a reluctant smile. "Fine. But if you try anything, I'll kick you again.

“Noted," he hastened to say as he raised both hands in surrender again. "But, uh… can I come in? Your porch isn't exactly the coziest spot to crash."

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. But only because you look pathetic."

Jake beamed-his golden retriever energy practically radiated as he scrambled to his feet, wincing slightly. "Thank you! I owe you one. Seriously.”

Y/n stepped aside, watching as he shuffled inside with a boyish grin. "You owe me more than one," you muttered, shutting the door behind him. And for some reason, as she watched him settle awkwardly on her couch, y/n didn't feel quite as afraid as you were moments ago.

࣪ 𑄾 taglist , @mydearyeseo @senazzzz @jeoism ࣪ ₊ ˙

[scariusaquarius]

rehab.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I couldn't help myself. I really think it would be cool to navigate Bucky's mind within a situation like this, so I really hope that this takes off honestly. I saw another writer on AO3 (@sunny_shadows, PLEASE check out their work, Shattered Under Midnight, it is fucking phenomenal) do story notes and explanations after the chapter, so I wanted to try that out as well! I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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Cryogenic frost was a completely different kind of frost. It was invasive; delving into every crack and crevice that it could; went into every orifice possible until you were cold from deep within. It hit you internally first; freezing your organs and bones first before it began to spread out to the muscles and tendons and fat of the human body.

It was uncomfortable, and when it was time to come out of the pod; the melting frost left behind such uncomfortable feelings that would have you desperately messing with your ears until the melted frost drained.

Don't even get Bucky started on the way his balls felt after.

It was an all-around uncomfortable feeling; disorienting and sickening that Bucky could recall some times when he would be taken out of cryo that he would throw up from the vertigo and aching that would come from deep within.

Even now, he could feel the tresses of nausea poking at his stomach as he stared up at the cryostasis pod that was steaming as it opened.

"You know, I think I vaguely remember telling you that I wasn't the only Winter Soldier...and I thought Zemo had killed the remaining Winter Soldier's back in Siberia."

His tone was annoyed, accusing, and the response that Bucky got back didn't make him feel any better about what his old-time friend was doing.

"Well, it seems Zemo was lying or he just wasn't aware that there were more soldier's within the program."

Steve then sighed as Bucky continued to stare at him, his brow furrowed deeply and making Steve return the look.

"Listen, with HYDRA being gone from these facilities, someone needs to rescue these people and rehabilitate them...just like we did with you."

Bucky's brow creased, and he was unrelenting as he turned to Steve, shaking his head.

"You don't understand. Without a handler, some of them can't be rehabilitated. I've trained these people, Steve, there's no getting through to them."

"We got through to you, didn't we? Besides, it wouldn't be right to leave these people in these pods like this."

Bucky's lips pursed and he spun around to face the cryostasis again, his metal arm whirring as the plates shifted; ready for a fight.

"That was different. You were my friend before everything...these people don't have anybody to bring them back."

Steve was quiet, concentrating on the pod. Slowly, a form began to show; boots, familiar leather pants, the same vest, and the same mask. Bucky couldn't help the tightening in his chest when he realized that the person in the pod wasn't just a Winter Soldier: they seemed to be a young woman; their hair becoming wet as the frost within it began to melt.

Beside the pod was a black book; most likely with notes about who the Soldier was and how to activate them, and Steve asked gently as the Soldier opened their eyes.

"Do we need to use the book?"

"I don't know."

Bucky was taken back by the brilliant (e/c) eyes that flicked to him for a moment before looking straight; and when the woman tried to take a step, they began to crumple to the ground. Steve jumped over the control center to catch them, giving Bucky a slightly miffed look as Bucky's feet stayed planted to the ground.

It was too familiar; too known, and Bucky was uncomfortable. He watched as Steve dragged the woman to a chair and sat her down, asking her.

"Hello, are you alright?"

She was unmoving and unblinking, staring straight ahead like a good soldier should and Bucky swallowed thickly, shaking his head. Steve asked her again, but Bucky shook his head a little more.

"She's not going to answer. You're not her handler."

"Okay, then how do we get through to her?"

Bucky pursed his lips, sighing heavily before he stood in front of the woman.

"укажите свое обозначение."

Her eyes came to life for a moment, glancing up at Bucky with a look that he knew all-too-well before she glanced back down; clenching her jaw.

"Зимний Солдат."

Bucky sighed deeply, rubbing his temples slightly, and Steve just observed, his blue eyes curious as he glanced between the two of them. Bucky then took the black book, noting the way the woman's shoulders seemed to square slightly; muscles in her neck tensing, and Bucky felt sick to his stomach. He handed it to Steve, muttering.

"There might be some information in here about her. If not, we'll look into the files we downloaded...if we have time."

Steve nodded, and Bucky turned to the woman again, asking.

"Что ты помнишь?"

"Невозможно завершить. Для выполнения инструкций необходимы дополнительные разъяснения."

Bucky frowned again, muttering to himself before he asked.

"Что ты помнишь перед тем, как тебя уложили спать?"

Her jaw clenched again, and this time, she seemed hesitant to answer. Her eyes flicked up to Bucky, and he could see the uncomfortable look she was giving him within her eyes. The person that was in there was trying to respond; trying to tell him, but the programming wasn't allowing her to answer. Fear flashed in her eyes from the inability to complete his request, and Bucky could feel his throat trying to close up.

HYDRA was getting better at their programming, it seemed.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you're unable to answer. We are not HYDRA."

Confusion flashed within her eyes though her expression never wavered, and Steve stepped forward.

"We're with the Avengers...do you know who we are?"

"Невозможно завершить. Требуется дополнительная аутентификация."

Steve turned to Bucky and suggested, crossing his arms slightly.

"This might be a job for Shuri. We should contact King T'Challa and set out for Wakanda as soon as possible."

Bucky pursed his lips before he turned to the woman, her fists clenched slightly.

"Следуй за мной, солдат. У меня есть для тебя миссия."

She stood up immediately, her eyes becoming dead again as the programming within her mind forced her to follow the commands of The Winter Soldier.

"Готов соблюдать."

Bucky hated it. He hated this feeling; of being the one on the opposite side of the glass; giving orders and handling. While Bucky had trained many super soldiers before, he wasn't ever a Handler like Brock Rumlow or Alexander Pierce. He was another instrument; another tool that just had higher privileges because of his compliance and performance record.

He had learned early on that resistance was futile and met with much harsher consequences.

No, the Winter Soldier's only purpose was to serve HYDRA and to further their cause. That was all. Anything that didn't involve a mission was null. He, among others like him, were only meant to serve the purpose of HYDRA and HYDRA alone.

But he hadn't activated her nor told her that he was her handler, so why was the soldier complying?

Was it possible that the woman had been frozen long enough that the programming was malfunctioning? Was she just assuming that Bucky was her handler because of his arm?

Or was it possible that she was faking it on pre-existing orders given before she was put under.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the soldier, the woman's eyes still just as dead-looking as they had been before; looking straight ahead. For a moment, however, her eyes flicked to his, and Bucky frowned before he turned to Steve, muttering.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Steve's brow was furrowed, lips slightly pursed as he glanced over at Bucky, worry within his eyes.

"You having a bad feeling is never a great sign."

Bucky almost scoffed, but refrained from doing-so; elaborating on his thoughts about the situation instead.

"I never gave her any indication that I was her handler nor did I activate her. What if she has pre-existing orders?"

Steve frowned, his tone becoming more hushed as he walked a bit closer to Bucky.

"Are you saying that she's a threat?"

"Any Winter Soldier is a threat, but I don't know if she's an active threat or not is the problem. She's blankly following orders...either someone gave her a mission before she was put under or...it's possible she thinks that I am still...with HYDRA. We should be careful."

Steve glanced back behind him to look at the woman before glancing down at the black book within his hands. As the three of them walked to the quinjet, Steve instructed Bucky as he sat down at the controls.

"You go ahead and get her strapped in and call Shuri. I'm going to see if there's anything in here about who she is and where she came from."

Bucky nodded before he turned to the woman who was standing in the middle of the jet; rigid and unmoving. Bucky sighed slightly before instructing.

"Присаживайтесь."

Wordlessly, the soldier sat down, strapping herself into one of the seats, and Bucky took a long glance at her. To a normal; outside perspective, it would look as though she was completely still and robotic. It would seem as though she wasn't even breathing; a blank stare to the opposite wall and deathly still.

However, to a fellow soldier, Bucky could tell that there was something on the woman's mind. The soldier's fists were clenched as they rested upon the top of her thighs, eyebrow furrowed just slightly, and Bucky could tell that her feet were fidgeting inconspicuously.

If Bucky didn't know any better, he'd say that the woman seemed nervous.

But what about?

Bucky wasn't able to ponder the thought any longer. Instead, he simply just looked ahead and began to call Shuri, hoping that this wasn't going to end up in a fight.

~

STORY NOTES: In the beginning, Bucky is remembering what it was like to be put into a cryostasis pod. He recalls that it was uncomfortable and that the frost and ice seem to penetrate every orifice possible, which is extremely uncomfortable when being thawed.

Then, it is revealed that Bucky and Steve Rogers are on a mission to find any remaining super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program that weren't killed by Zemo, which Bucky is apprehensive about but Steve is adamant on doing.

The soldier within the cryostasis pod then awakens after being thawed, seeming to be completely blank. When Steve tries to make contact, the soldier does not respond, leaving Bucky to resort to acting as a Handler, finally getting responses out of the soldier.

While trying to ask the soldier for information, Bucky is unable to get anything useful from the woman. He makes an educated guess that HYDRA had further adapted their programming, making it difficult to make the soldier talk without having to completely activate them.

Steve decides to take a trip to Wakanda to see Shuri and T'Challa so they can rehabilitate the soldier just as they did with Bucky, but Bucky begins to think that the soldier is a threat due to their compliance despite Bucky not activating them nor introducing himself as their handler.

Bucky makes a final observation, noting that the woman seems nervous, though Bucky is unable to figure out what about. He speculates further that there could be foul play, and is unhappy at the possibility of a fight. End Scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

укажите свое обозначение - Indicate/State your Designation

Зимний Солдат - Winter Soldier

Что ты помнишь - What do you remember?

Невозможно завершить. Для выполнения инструкций необходимы дополнительные разъяснения - Unable to complete. Further clarification is required to complete the instructions.

Что ты помнишь перед тем, как тебя уложили спать - What do you remember before you were put to bed/sleep?

Невозможно завершить. Требуется дополнительная аутентификация - Unable to comply. Additional authentication required.

Следуй за мной, солдат. У меня есть для тебя миссия - Follow me, soldier. I have a mission for you.

Готов соблюдать - Ready to comply.

Присаживайтесь - Have a seat.

[tousey-mousy]

casual reminder that filters do nothing and they're chemically treated to turn yellow in response to smoke, because the manufacturers know that people instinctively feel more comfortable smoking a cigarette with a stained filter. it makes people feel "that the filter did something/worked to stop some of the tar getting into my lungs", which it does not do and has never done. filters don't work so tbh suck on it to drink your soft drink if u want it can barely get worse than it already has, sorry bestie.

also, vapes might be worse than breathing air but i would personally kiss you the reader on the mouth if it meant convincing a durry smoker to switch to vapes. worse than nothing, yes i guess, but please please please use vapes if you currently smoke ciggies.

also i've seen snuff making a comeback. jsyk it does not cause less cancer it just means you get nose cancer now instead of lung cancer. pipe smoking gives you mouth and throat cancer. sorry babes.

oh, and unrelated, but if you're a nonsmoker reading this please consider signing up as a bone marrow donor! statistically you'll never be asked to donate in your life, and if you ARE asked then over 90% of donations are now done entirely painlessly using a simple blood transfusion. the experience is no different to a plasma donation at your local blood bank. no drilling into bones!

also if you're a trans person on testosterone therapy for over 5 years and still have a cervix, please go get a cervical screening test at least every 5 years. there's evidence that some of your cervical cells have now turned into prostate cells because testosterone is a magic potion i think, and it's been shown that in some cases this results in prostate cancer in trans men. yeah i know. yeah. yeah i know. hop to it.

Marlboro Wrapped: your wasted cigpig proto-corpse choked 100 times on our darling dust darts. and you sucked on the filter too much. stale stinking bitch

[oh-no-its-bird]

Scrooge Madara being haunted by the spirits of Christmas past (Hashirama) Christmas present (Tobirama) and Christmas Future (Izuna)

Christmas past Hashirama comes to him all joy and cheer and is like "aww Madara don't u remember how we had the best christmas' together ever 🥺"

And Madara is like "yeah then your brother fucking murdered my brother on CHRISTMAS EVE and it kind of ruined the mood you giant fucking jackass."

And Hashirama is like "but he said he was sorry :("

"No he did not."

So then Christmas present Tobirama shows up. And Madara is like "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!" and Tobirama rolls his eyes and teleports them to the Uchiha compound, but invisible

And he makes Madara watch scenes of his whole clan celebrating w/out him and is like "no one fucking likes ur nasty ass. Bitch."

And Hikaku, because Hikaku is that one worker guy w the sick kid (Kagami) Scrooge fucks over, is like "omg guys...Madara is just going through a rough patch, ok... I promise he's a good guy..."

And then Madara is like "omg Hikaku..the only real one..."

But then everyone starts laughing at Hikaku and it was actually sarcasm and Madara is kinda really fucked up ab it, actually. But Tobirama is still like, RIGHT there so he keeps betrayal internal. But like. He's upset fr fr

So then a hooded mystery Christmas Future tries to warn Madara of the coming destruction of the clan that his bitch boy, Christmas hating ways will lead to. And Madara is like "??? Kill yourself ??? Please god holy shit just leave me be"

And the figure is like, sick of his shit, so it gives him the "Suddenly this is a horror movie and here is your grave" treatment. And as Madara dramatically trips and falls into his own grave, the figure removes its hood to reveal it was Izuna, and he's like "fucking get over urself nii-san"

And Madara is like "???????" And Izuna just kinda gives him a peace sign and dissapears

And oops, guys don't think this is a scrooge au anymore I think it's just an of the senju bros + inexplicable Izuna harassing a grieving man, rip

But anyways then Madara wakes up in a cold sweat. And it was all just a dream (ooOOoO or was it)

But instead of being into Christmas actually the whole thing just pissed him off monumental and caused irreversible damage, actually

And anyways that's how Madara defects from the village.

The end.

(In the distance Tobirama is dropping his ghost jutsu and going "are u sure this was a good idea anija?"

As an excited Hashirama, preparing a surprise Christmas party for Madara, goes "ofc it was!!!! Im sure it put Madara in the perfect (forgiving) mood for this surprise :D"

"Well. It did irriversably traumatize me as a child when Chichuie did this to me" Tobirama points out.

Hashirama waves him off "idk what u mean!! It totally helped you!! Look at you now, youre so well adjusted about Itama's death day which is also on ur birthday which you inexplicably hate celebrating for unrelated reasons Im sure!"

Tobirama twitches, but does not argue.)

[pomrania]

Everyone should have the experience where they start consuming a story with a completely wrong belief about what happens in it; it's valuable enrichment.

I don't mean that you should be lied to about the contents of a story. I mean, where you've heard stuff about a story and somehow got convinced that things happened in a completely different manner than they actually did, or there were two stories with the same title and you grabbed the wrong one, or you think something's in one series when it's actually in an unrelated series by the same person, etc.

I'd read some Psychonauts crossover fic (and its comments) before ever watching a playthrough of it; so for like two thirds of when I was watching the first game, I genuinely thought that a villain from the SECOND game was behind it all, and the apparent villain here was just a frame-up or a patsy. Eventually I realized "no wait, this person does actually seem like the actual villain in this story", but it was very much an "eventually"; and I hadn't caught any of the "this person is kind of shady" hints because I truly believed that I knew who the villain was and they just hadn't shown up yet.

It was… an experience, to wrench my mind around, and realize I'd been watching it with an incorrect assumption the whole time; that I'd believed something inaccurate, until eventually evidence mounted up. But it's important to get used to the sensation with something low-stakes, instead of a situation where people can be harmed if you refuse to acknowledge you'd been wrong about how things were.

[alevolpe]

Hello! I plan on doing a Sailor Moon rewrite later on next year (bc i have a lot of shit to do in the entirety of my 3rd year of university) and I'd like to know what issues you have with each season of sailor moon. You don't have to name all of them, just name the biggest problem(s) you have with each season!! I hope I am not troubling you :3

Hi! You're no trouble at all! Thank you for asking, I'm humbled you're interested in hearing my opinion.

Ok, let's see. Before I start I wanna say, these are MY opinions based on also how I'm doing my own rewrite AU thingy, so don't take it personally if I don't want to include elements or characters you love. (Most fo the time it doesn't even mean I don't like those characters in canon, I just don't think they'd fit with the specific narrative I have in my mind)

I'll say for Season 1, my biggest issue is the amount of time it takes to get everyone in the cast. By the time we get Mina it's like what, over 3/4ths of the season in? I like that the show takes its time introducing everyone and giving the girls some organic bonding time in the filler, but there's better ways to do it imo. That's why I have Usagi be the last to awaken and meet an already tranformed Ami and Rei, so we don't totally break from Usagi being the center at first. We can use her as a vessel to get to know these new people and this crazy new identity at the same time she does, letting us know more about her too in the process, while not slowing the pace of the story to a crawl. As we get to know more, you can introduce the rest of the girls and break from the main group to catch glimpses of Mako and Mina, to later unite them. But that's my fix, there's other ways to fix the slow introductions, just.. don't maybe go manga style and spend only one ep per girl and immediately move on to the next, give them time to breathe.

My main issue with Season 2 is the time travel. The show does NOT know its own rules and that is a recipe for disaster, once you introduce an ally that is able to time travel, you got a LOT in your hands. Everything in the show could be solved with one travel through time, but they never do. Why? Cause otherwise the show wouldn’t exist. It leaves too many possibilities and questions that is not ready to answer. Idk how one could fix it, I'm sure there's many ways you could, I just have 0 interest in incorporating time travel in sm.

With Season 3 I'd say it's the introduction of the whole Pharaoh 90 or Mistress 9 thing. I don’t know, I know they are the main baddies, but like.. just make Saturn the main threat, she already basically is. That's my problem with it, I'm sure a ton of people disagree, but I'd rather the season just focus more on Saturn, Haruka, Michiru and Pluto, I don't need another "queen Nehellenia" type villain that gets introduced 2 seconds before the end. And I lovee Eudial and Mimete, but we don't need 5 of them. I'd just make those 2 Tomoe's assistants and that's that. Too many villains, especially if you're not going to do a motw format.

With Season 4.. uff where do I even begin. Tbh I scratch the whole season and do a ground up rebuilding project, but if I HAVE to stick with the canon structure I'll say make Nehellenia more present. She's THE BEST part of SuperS, make her more present and more threatening. Give her that mirror power from the get go, make her appear in mirrors, reflections, show her subtly , in the background, give the season a subtle but palpable atmosphere of unease, make her scary. I WANT TO BE SCARED of her! Also unrelated, but get RID of the S*A metaphor with the 3 eyes.

With Stars the whole pacing the season is a mess. The start is way too slow and the end is rushed as fuck. Introduce Galaxia as a present threat earlier, again idk how you'd do that exactly while keeping the episodic tempo of the show, but my solution is. Don't! Lol

[great-septimus]

I want to add to this. I reblogged it before I actually thought of what I wanted to say, but it finally connected in my head. I agree with all of this, but it was mainly the realization that what the fandom calls his sudden "traumadumping", as funny as it is, is literally just him attempting to make Ren feel close to him without any real vulnerability.

He talks about his mom with Ren unprompted, and says he hasn't told anyone this before, and that's true- because he hates feeling pitied. He doesn't want to feel weak, but he does want to be cared for. He wants to be supported, by anyone, but most people would react to his hardship with sympathy that he doesn't need or believe he deserves or earns. So he instead opens up to Ren because he sees them on equal footing. They're on the same page, and he wants Ren to feel a connection to him even if it's entirely fabricated and calculated. It's partially due to habit because, y'know, Detective Prince mask requires him to do this already in general, but also because so much of his real hardship is locked up so seeking a real connection requires the melodrama.

For me, I had this realization remembering when he walked into Leblanc the first time. He sees Futaba and he says "You must be Wakaba Isshiki's daughter" and then after he gets chewed out by Sojiro, he starts talking about how he doesn't feel wanted anywhere. Then seemingly unrelated, he talks about his mom. It feels to me like he's trying to say "if you can care about Futaba, then you should care about me."

He hasn't had a support system, so the need for just someone, anyone to care, even though they don't know him and what he's done, is so strong. He hates being pitied because he doesn't see himself as weak, and he doesn't think he deserves sympathy, so why would he share anything more than necessary? The third semester is the inverse of this. Everyone knows too much, so now the care he craved for so long feels way too exposed. It's too vulnerable, and he never thought he would have earned it if he shared this much, even from Ren. So ultimately the trust he earned has the opposite effect, and now his prior "see me and love me" mask has been replaced by a "leave me alone and hate me" mask.

Just said something about this on twitter but out of everything in 3rd semester that’s meant to show the contrast between akechis behavior pre-engineroom and post-engineroom I honestly think this specific change in sprite expression does it best

The first one looks directly at you because he makes this face when he’s trying to gain sympathy points / connect with whoever he’s talking to. Okay yeah he uses it when he was talking about his mother at leblanc and the bathhouse which definitely drew from a place real sadness but it was still a calculated part of his attempts to endear himself. And the second one is the exact opposite. It barely shows up and when it does it’s only for 1-2 (?) dialogue boxes a piece. It’s the expression he makes when he can’t immediately hide his emotions. The quick turning away / avoidance of eye contact is so you Don’t connect with the little hints of genuineness that manage to slip out for the two seconds that they last. Maybe so he doesn’t have to see your face if you do? Anyway. TDLR I just think it’s nice to focus less on his crazy talk and meangirlisms and acknowledge that they’re 100% also being used to rein in the fact that he’s progressively losing his grip on masking “the real akechi” from sight 100% of the time. At every point in the game he only wants his real self to be seen in tiny, entirely controlled sneak peeks, and only when he thinks it benefits him. agh

[syscest]

Species-affirming cybersex. That is all

that's NOT all because I'm gonna break down these concepts and how they work.

species first. reffing chapter 2 of plural respect, system members have self-perceptions that can differ from the body and don't have to resemble things that exist in the outside world - and a shared understanding of this can help you connect. Nonhuman types often shorthand this as "species" to indicate something left field of human - but it practically encompasses impossible-human stuff like "human with a curse" or "human that's a wizard" and inorganics like "sentient computer virus" or "reanimated skeleton" for most use cases - anything physically impossible enough. if you're into shapeshifter language, you might prefer "form" - same difference.

with that in mind let's talk cybering. Cybersex in most of its forms is collaborative fantasy. You're taking "thinking about a hot thing" and extending it to include someone else over the internet somehow. Though valid barebones sexting can be purely something like discussing physically occurring masturbation, it usually involves constructing a scene of some kind and (though its rarely admitted) you're basically collaboratively writing smut fanfiction about you and your hookup.

I think breaking the "this is weird" glass is critical to engage with this properly and prevent mystifying it. yes you are writing self insert oc fiction with a friend over the internet, yes you're gonna be horny about it. and yes omg you DO get to choose the tense case and perspective you prefer to write in this is huge and nobody says it.

Furry ERP communities (owing to a common layer of seperation between the selves) often use third person language, refer to sonas by name, and put dialogue in quotes: <confused, she pokes her friend's arm, "Hello?" she whispers, "Anyone home?"> etc etc, providing a clear seperation between OOC and not. You might find this stiff or impersonal or booky - and there's a tonne of variation you can apply to see if it fixes that:

per-sender first+second person pronouns:

qualify actions instead of dialogue: <[she pokes her friend's arm] hello? is anyone home?]> (notably removes the hard OOC separation, which can enable chitchat)

both: <[I poke your arm] hello? is anyone home?>

+ avoiding self-references where possible: <*pokes your arm* hello? is anyone home?>

So sexting gives you a canvas, and because it's collaborative smut writing, it really doesn't require you to adhere to what regular humans do and look and feel like. You can write directly about your metaphysical forms interacting because you're literally out here playing pretend for fun.

It definitely works for some people and doesn't for others, but don't get caught in "what do I write". you can't focus on cybersex being *good*, focus on silly little whims and suggesting whatever comes to your head - start by finishing the sentence "if I had you in a room right now, I'd __". Its a silly little playpen for exploring eachother's sexuality and relationship to themself, just be nice to eachother and run with it.

And, yknow, affirming? well, as long as you communicate well, take the standard safety measures you would for any kink scene, and understand consent applies just as much when you're acting out text - then you can do/pretend/play/perform all kinds of stuff via text cybersex you can't do in-person. It's a great way to connect with these parts of yourself and resulting tendencies, and acquire stupid fantastical kinks about it. All new weird ways to be found (find yourself?) attractive.

Ok. well. unrelated tangent. you CAN do it in person. invoking weird nonhuman or otherwise metaphysical junk in bed is not strictly typing only - for one you can literally bring your phone TO bed and do mixed-media sex where you get to sext *and* get handsy, but that's not even the point. Sexting might make you a sex-fanfic-author but don't forget you can be a sex-wrestler/sex-theatre-performer too - talk to your hookup about the impossible things you'd like to do, and then do things that physically resemble them and you can both enjoy filling in the blanks. Your brain WILL help, if you're thinking about picking someone up with your tentacles and you use your body's arms, you'll naturally want to move them in a different kind of way, and you'll both pick up on it. The more you engage, the more it comes through in how you move, the more your friend gets to pick up on. Hell, you can even check verbally if you're understanding things right - "is that your arm" etc etc. It's a more complicated, subtextual language, but it can be a LOT of fun.

Anyway, species-affirming cybersex :)

[deandoesthingstome]

Ode to COD Writers

First of all: No, I'm probably not back. At least, not writing.

Second: No, I'm not changing my URL, icon photo, or...well, I guess I can't really say my concentration, but honestly. Who knows?

It isn't like this account has ever been exclusively one thing, and COD posts haven't been unheard of until now, but it certainly hasn't been where my attention has been. Until now.

I took a Tumblr break, but during one of my quick check ins I came across an amazing Ghost x Reader fic that had me hooked from the get go. Now, Ghost is not my type. Not really. But Soap sure as fuck is. So while I ran, ran I say, to AO3 to follow the rest of the Ghost series (tattooer!Ghost??? I bit hard), I also took the time to swing around the author's other works and then the tags to find more of what I crave.

Good. Fucking. Stories. (No, they don't have to be about fucking. But it's nice.) Stories written with passion and care. Stories that sink into you brain, swim around in your blood, and take up the breath in your body. Stories that put a new twist on an old idea, or come up with their own idea. Stories that make you want more, crave more.

So, I need to tell you about this. It may not mean anything to you. But if you know me, you know I love to tell you what I love about a story so that if it tickles your fancy in any way, maybe you'll take it for a spin and see if I lied. Check the cut for recommendations:

I haven't listed all elements of every fic, so be sure to read the tags and the warnings if there is something you don't like to read. I just needed to get this love letter out. I've added Tumblr account links where I could (and if my budding Nancy Drew skills failed me, I'm happy to remove the link.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

it happens. - jo_lapeno (soap x reader) (I THINK this is @jolapeno here, but in a round about way. Her masterlist links to AO3, where the author has a pseud, so make sure to check out the jo_lapeno link also. I'm sure her Pedro fics are just as bomb.

This wasn't my first Soap fic. It won't be my last. But it's one I wish I could crawl into and wrap myself in. The push and pull, the way the story is crafted, the build of passion, desire, need, the worry, the love. Just see if this enemies to lovers doesn't fuel your desire.

Hung Scot Can’t Hold Himself Back, Huge Oneshot (Girlfriend POV) - callmepoison (soap x reader) (@goaskpoison - https://goaskpoison.tumblr.com/ I can't tag you. But also, I think this post explains why I'm still waiting for my hunger for storm chaser to be sated. And you better believe I switched my playlist from The Roots to The National as I write this. I'm not sure this is the vibe I envisioned while treading those steel halls, caressing those big birds, sneaking into quarters, fighting in the streets, but I like it just the same. It honestly feels like it fits the fic I was actually trying to rec just now...or maybe it fits "it happens", above?)

Unrelated to the playlist garble above, you aren't in the military in this one; you're a medical resident at UCLA Health. You find Johnny in the best way. You take the right risks and come away with the best prize. He is so. fucking. charming. The consummate co-pilot. An absolute dream come true. I'd happily crawl into this universe, too.

This Chapter 8 of Kinktober 2024 - Call of Duty - 1478963255 (yes that's the account name; I cannot find them on Tumblr) (soap x reader)

Like, all of them really. But this Soap x Reader quickie in the rain outside the bar down the alley where Ghost is watching will make you wish your back was against that brick wall.

storm chaser - callmepoison (soap x reader, ghost x reader, soap x reader x ghost?)

This is not complete. This is an interesting take on A/B/O. This had my heart racing, fingers clenching, breath held. I wanted to care as much about the ships as the author did, but I was too mesmerized by the OFC (you) to spend the time. I wanted to know everything, EVERYTHING, about her. I needed to know her name, her scent, the way her skin feels under my fingers... oh shit, that was Soap. That was how Soap felt. And it's funny, 'cause I'm 99.9% sure Soap is fucking Ghost (or maybe the other way?), but you're gonna end up fucking both maybe? I don't know because we're only 5 chapters in, but, my god! do you have a fun time getting here. Johnny is my hero.

The (Scottish) Cabin in the Woods - Charlie_M (soap x reader x ghost) (EDIT: @charliemwrites - I'm Charlie, too! )

Technically speaking, not just Johnny. This may have been one of the first COD fics I found and read on AO3, but it was well before this most recent foray. It started with you and Johnny at a cabin in the highlands, through a delicious vision of Johnny chopping wood, before it sent you to a masked man's cabin - chained to the wall next to Johnny. It's a total mindfuck. But beware - it also is not complete. There purports to be one more chapter, but who knows if it will ever come. I don't care. It's gorgeous.

Everything in Kinkmas 2024 - GloomWitch @gloomwitchwrites

Yes, the author of Ink & Needle, that tattooer!ghost x reader fic I mentioned above, is back with a quintet of cute little vignettes with Soap, Ghost, even Gaz. They are all special, but For Long Distance Fun is a beautiful homage to your favorite Scot.

Kinktober 2024 also gave us Monster (S)mash, the absolute best porn set you've ever been on. Soap, Chost, Gaz AND Price! Get 'em all in one! Just love everything about the detail, the world building, the admiration and love.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

I know I said he wasn't really my type. But good stories are and if they put me in his way, who am I to question it? Expand your horizons.

A Brute, Brute Heart - GloomWitch

Is also sending me to my knees for this man. It's only just begun, but if it does what it says, you are about to get dommed by Ghost. like. yes. please. This first chapter will set the mood. Enjoy.

ever yours....

[burntpink]

eating a bowl of poke and guioza and drinking caipirinha on a mug for lunch at 3pm. being brazilian rules you guys

[luckitteh]

The sex work industry criticism bit is particularly insidious because in order to properly be supportive of sex workers you *Have* to criticize the industry. It's a moral imperative, not unlike all industry, sex work is often exploitative of its workers. Human trafficking, abuse, shitty pay schemes, there are huge issues!!! And saying so isn't denigrating the workers in that industry at all, it's part of a push to give them protections that they need.

I think all the time about this because a lot of my friends are trans women (as am I) and a lot of us are almost forced into the industry economically (via discrimination in traditional employment sectors). It's a huge deal that it feels like nobody on the left talks about. The only people I hear criticizing the sex work industry are Christian right-wingers pushing to ban it outright (the parts of it that aren't already illegal). Which is obviously a bad outcome because like it or not, there are people relying on that income to survive.

This is unrelated but the amount of 'terf' accusations I see getting thrown at some of my trans friends on here is insane. Like you either don't understand the term or you are just bandying it about on purpose to attack lesbians you don't like

It just makes me feel crazy sometimes...

i have a lot of theories related to how the “girlypop”ification and hyperfemininization of lesbian culture and the increasing use of “terfy” to mean “feminism that is critical of men” and not “exclusion and marginalization of trans women in the name of so-called feminism” and the fact that the sex industry is the one industry supposed leftists largely sweep criticism of and claims of worker abuse in under the rug are all part of an organized backlash against actual feminism because it goes against capitalist patriarchal interests. that also insidiously pretends to be the most feminist thing ever so people don’t like revolt even though the state of women’s rights is observably getting worse. but ultimately i am literally just a semi-unemployed 23 year old on the internet with theories and i’m not even studying anything related to feminism at college because. well. i dropped my one class about gender and society for making us write a paper praising a man in our lives 😐

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

[momentomori24]

This may just be me, but I think if you ship a canonically very abusive, manipulative and toxic relationship, you don't get to judge or call anyone degenerates for their own fucked up ships, actually.

[arohuacheng]

imagining the story from pei ming's perspective is rlly funny i think. this god from all that time ago ascends again (you were there for the first two times) and immediately waltzes into a situation that fucks something up for your descendant (putting both of your reputations on the line, messing up how hard your descendant worked to become a god and how hard you worked to ensure that he would have that chance) and then refuses to let you smooth the situation out and on TOP of that your friend's little sister (who hates you and who you are trying to look out for by request of your friend) is on your case about it too. so you've gotta work all that out and then like. you chill for a little bit (still kind of upset about your descendant) until your friend undergoes a heavenly calamity. and then in the space of like A Day the god from earlier shows up again with a fucking ghost king, your friend dies, the little sister you're supposed to be looking out for disappears, and everything just kinda goes to shit. so you're like. grieving. trying to process everything. until your OTHER close friend goes off the fucking rails with the spirit of that guy she murdered, and then you get called out to the spooky ghost mountain where you're confronted with the girl whose death YOU were essentially responsible for and have never really come to terms with, and then like. you just kind of hang out with these gay people until everything resolves itself. fight some ghosts. fight the heavenly emperor. get your friend to stop being evil for a little while so she can fix the filing systems. and then you just have to keep being the god of love i guess