#it reminds me of her alias fit !!

[biitchcakes]

gomez addams vc: look at her. i would die for her. i would kill for her.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place. 

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional. 

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind. 

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book. 

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you. 

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below. 

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously. 

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." 

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out. 

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her. 

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet. 

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him. 

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness. 

"You're awfully quiet," she tries. 

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave. 

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right. 

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams. 

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed. 

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?" 

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus. 

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room? 

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug. 

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?" 

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately. 

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice. 

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull. 

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders. 

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time. 

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman. 

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met." 

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo. 

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea. 

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist. 

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this. 

It's her. 

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris. 

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck. 

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv. 

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.  

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin. 

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain." 

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust. 

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her. 

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..." 

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are." 

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier. 

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs. 

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine. 

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck… 

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex. 

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…" 

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this. 

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..." 

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering… 

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to��need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…" 

"Yeah? I know." 

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength. 

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?" 

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 25-Plain Clothes

Marinette sat on the hotel bed, easing her nerves.

'This is a simple mission; a test. Best outcome: we find ShadowMoth. Worst: Zero progress.'

Robin knocked on the door, startling her.

"How are you?" He questioned "Are you ready to leave?"

"Nervous." She answered with a sigh.

"Why? It's a simple mission, is it not?" he replied.

"It's my first mission, as myself. No one but Batman and Wonder Woman knows who I am." She called out.

"We can use an alias." Robin declared.

"Can't." Mari groaned, "I know people at the event. I was going to be here, one way or another."

"I take it that you are well known, then." Robin spoke.

"Yes and you?" Mari asked.

"Correct." he answered.

"Okay." Marinette said, before taking a deep breath.

Tikki shook her head a flew through the door, startling Robin. He quickly put his emotions back in order and glared at her. Tikki giggled.

'He reminds me of Plagg.'

"I am Tikki. I am the Kwami or Goddess of Creation." she spoke, "I am what makes the girl behind the door, Ladybug."

He nodded in response and looked back at the door.

"We will have somoene looking out for us in the shadows." he called out.

"Batman is here?" Ladybug asked.

"No, Superboy. Apparently, he saw your tiny companion here through a door once. His X-Ray vision works on her. Superman couldn't see her, at all." Robin declared, "I know his identity and he won't say anything, unless they have proper clearance. So far, that consist of you, me, Superboy, and Batman. We will have earpieces on and he will be able to communicate with us, if he notices anything."

"Meaning if ShadowMoth is in the crowd-" she stated.

"He should sense it." Robin answered, "If he tried to leave, he is capable of following him and giving us directions to his location."

Marinette walked out of the room, full of confidence and hope. Robin couldn't believe his eyes. Ladybug was a leader. She was strict. She reminded him of his parents, at times; dedicated. This girl in front of him didn't look deadly or commanding. She looked small and shy; she looked like an angel.

"You look.....beautiful." he spoke.

Mari smiled and tried to fight off her blush, "Thank you. How did the suit fit?"

"Um, well. Thank you for the suit." Robin replied, "Where did you get it?"

"I made it." she spoke, "I'm a fashion designer."

Damian looked down at his clothes. He hadn't appreciated them until that moment. He thought it had just been another suit. He looked back up before bowing to her.

"Damian Wayne." He announced.

She smiled back and curtsied, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette walked in on Damian's arm.

"I can see you both. I am still able to see Ladybug. I can see your earrings glowing and your little friend in your bag."

Mari gripped Damian's arm after hearing the voice speak

"Thank you, Superboy." Damian whispered, squeezing Marinette slightly, "He's on our side."

She just nodded. Soon, everyone crowded around them.

"I can see two other people with glowing items in attendance, aside from her."

Damian felt Marinette tense up again.

"Where?" Mari asked, "Who?"

"An older gentleman."

"Must be ShadowMoth." Damian inquired.

"The other?" Mari pressed.

"Our age."

Marinette bit her lip confused.

'Could Felix be here? No; Hawkmoth got the peacock miraculous back from him two years ago. That's why I used Kalki to get into the Justice League's headquarters in space.'

"Heads up. Incoming fast!"

"Hey, Marinette!" Adrien cried out, "I didn't expect you to have a date."

"Watch him."

Damian felt the tiny Ladybug grip his arm like her life depended on it, but on her face was plastered a smile.

"F-Felix?" Mari whispered.

"Uh, no." the blonde answered, "It's Adrien, Adrien Agreste. Did you forget about me?" 

"Why wouldn't my girlfriend have a date?" Damian demanded, moving his arm from to her waist to stabilize her better.

Marinette turned to him and smiled.

"His ring is glowing and he has a creature in his right breast pocket."

Marinette glanced at the familiar ring he wore throughout middle school. An image of it painted black with a neon print came to her mind.

'Adrien is Chat Noir!'

"There's something else. There's a....it looks like a feather inside of him. It looks like it branching out, like veins."

Marinette buckled, feeling faint.

"Mari!" Adrien shouted.

"Angel!" Damian cried out, catching her.

Adrien held her hand as Damian checked her over quickly.

"Are you okay?" Adrien asked.

"Do you think we can get some air?" Marinette questioned, "Still not use to these heels."

"Of course." Damian chuckled, "Did you remember to pack the bandages that Selina recommended?"

Marinette nodded, struggling to get to her feet. As she got up, she slipped the ring off of Adrien's finger, using her Guardian powers. Unfortunately for Adrien, Plagg was asleep and unable to warn him.

Once outside, Marinette burst into tears.

"Marinette?" Damian prodded, confused.

"Adrien is...was my partner." Marinette sobbed, showing him the ring.

"Why did you take it?" he questioned.

"The feather he saw." Mari declared.

"What about-"Damian began.

"He's a sentimonster! That's not the real Adrien and if it is.....who is to say he hasn't been helping Hawkmoth since the beginning?" she stated.

Marinette looked at the ring and placed it on her finger.

"Hey, Kid. What-" Plagg demanded, but once he saw Mari he changed his mind, "Where is he?"

"Did you know?" Marinette questioned.

"Know what?" Plagg asked, confused.

Tikki flew out of Marinette's bag, "Adrien is one of Duusu's creations."

Plagg's jaw dropped, "No!"

He floated down onto the Guardian's hand and sat down.

"You couldn't sense it?" Tikki asked.

"No." he answered shaking his head, "How big were the branches?"

"Large." answered Damian, "According to the half-alien who has x-ray vision and can see through people."

"It is possible that Adrien was never real." Tikki spoke, "For small times, it wouldn't be that much."

Tears poured down her cheeks. Adrien not being real opened up so many possibilities. She wiped her tears away.

"Bug?" Plagg questioned.

Marinette took a deep breath and reached into her bag. She quickly fixed her makeup and grabbed Damian's hand. The ring change from its once silver color to a dark metal with a large emerald.

"You are my partner for this mission." Mari declared, "It is only fitting that you now wear Plagg."

"Will he not notice?" Damian questioned.

"No." the Guardian answered, "The magic of the miraculous will keep him for recognizing it."

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"I need a moment." she whispered.

He nodded and walked back into the venue.

"Marinette?" Tikki whispered.

"I may have to kill Adrien." she answered.

"I have eyes on another."

Marinette stood up and walked back into the gala.

"Male, 40's. Maybe 50's. White suit and glasses."

Marinette looked around and spotted Gabriel Agreste.

She took a deep breath and asked, "Where is it?"

"Under his tie. It's red and white."

'Yep. That describes Gabriel Agreste, perfectly.'

Before she could make her way towards him, Adrien jumped out of the crowd, in front of her. From his eyes, she could tell he was panicking.

"Mari, hey, did you see me drop my ring?" He pressed.

"Ring?" Marinette asked.

"The one I always wear. The silver one!" Adrien stated.

"No." she answered, "I'm sorry. I didn't notice it. We can go back to where we were and see if It fell off. Maybe, someone kicked it under a table or something?"

Adrien nodded and followed her towards where they had been. He looked through the crowd.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asked.

"Talking with other people about his father's business." Mari shrugged.

"Oh." he answered, "So, uh, how long have you guys been a thing?"

"Oooh, maybe he likes you. Robin, you need to step you're game up. Someone is trying to steal Ladybug from you."

'Yeah, right.'

"Be silent. This isn't a commentary show."

'Thank you, Robin.'

"Two years." Marinette answered, quickly.

"Nice save. Using how long you have been coming to the League, I'm assuming."

"Oh, that's nice." Adrien replied.

"Incoming."

"Miss Dupain-Cheng." Gabriel spoke.

"Hello, Mr. Agreste." Marinette smiled back.

"I couldn't help but notice that you came in with young Damian Wayne." he declared.

Mari answered back, "Yes. He is my date for tonight's event. We figured since we were both coming, why not announce our relationship?"

"I see." he spoke, not noticing his son wilt at her answer, "I was hoping you would come work for Gabriel. I understand Audrey still has an invitation open for you, as well."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Agreste, but Damian has offered me my own studio." She announced, "Not an internship. He will be paying for the building and I will take care of the rest. My boyfriend has confidence in my work."

"Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng, good luck to you." Gabriel stated, "Will your studio be here in Paris?"

"No. I'll be leaving Paris at the end of the week to Gotham." Marinette declared.

Adrien quickly turned to her in shock.

"You're leaving?" the model exclaimed, to which she nodded, "Why haven't you said anything?"

"Adrien." Gabriel growled.

"I've been so busy and my apartment can't really contain my designs and equipment." Mari answered, "I've been working out of my place and have been so focused on my commissions."

Damian created a distraction by throwing five silver platters at the giant windows, as if they were shuriken. People began to scream when all the windows shattered at once. Many believed it was the work of an akuma and started to scream. Many began to push people out of the way to get towards a door, faster. Marinette took notice of Gabriel leaving during the middle of the chaos, leaving Adrien behind. Quickly, an akuma appeared out of one of the scared party-goers.

"I have him."

Adrien began to look around the room, after he lost sight of Marinette. He spotted her again, hoping to see her transform into his Lady.

'She had to of taken the ring!'

Adrien noticed bits of the ceiling beginning to crumble above her head. He watched through the chaos as the ceiling began to collapse overhead.

'Transform!'

Damian grabbed her arm and pulled her to his chest, as he dodged the debris. Marinette sobbed into his chest. Damian picked her up and ran out of the building with her. Watching his friend cry in the arms of her lover, he realized it wasn't her. She wasn't Ladybug.

'Shit! Where the fuck is my ring?'

Marinette jumped out of Damian's arms, as he moved them to the side of the building.

"You're positive you have eyes on him?" Marinette questioned, getting into Ladybug mode.

"Yes."

"Spots on." Mari spoke.

"Claws out." Damian whispered.

"Can you creep up on him and knock him out?" Ladybug asked.

Damian smiled, evily, "I was trained in stealth."

"Do it." she replied, "I'll deal with the akuma."

He nodded and followed Signal's directions. There stood Gabriel Agreste in another room of the building, transformed as Shadowmoth. Damian quietly snuck up on him and used one of the techniques his mother had taught him to temporarily paralyze someone. Shadowmoth was caught off guard as he collapsed to the floor.

"My apologies, Shadowmoth," a new cat like figure spoke, taking the brooches off of him, "but the hunt is over. I have acquired them, Ladybug."

Ladybug quickly destroyed the akuma and announced, "Shadowmoth has been defeated. This plan has been in the making for along time."

Paris began to cheer in happiness.

With help from the Batfam, they were able to clear out certain evidence out of Agreste Manor. They placed Emilie and Natalie into a hospital. Gabriel was still paralyzed on his right side; the doctors believed he had a stroke. Adrien was temporarily staying at the Bourgeois hotel. Gabriel lay in the hospital bed upset. At the foot of his bed was Ladybug and Chat Noir's stealthy replacement.

"Your days are over." he growled, "I'll come back!"

"The miraculous will be out of Paris, tonight." Ladybug replied.

"You-" he hissed.

"Do you realize I have to kill your son, Adrien?" She asked, causing him to freeze, "I know he's a sentimonster. The question is was he always a sentimonster or is the real one hidden away like your wife?"

"My wife wanted a child!" Gabriel declared, "We couldn't have one and that was all she wanted. I jus wanted her to watch him grow up."

"Adrien is sucking the life out of her." The Guardian stated, "It's one or the other; not both."

Gabriel paled at the news.

"Will you kill her son, who she did everything for, just to bring her back? Or will you give him the life she wanted for him?" Ladybug questioned, "She will remember everything."

"We will find them again." Gabriel stated.

Ladybug sighed, "No, you won't. I've asked the Justice League to take them off planet and onto another. They could bury it on the center of Pluto or send it to another planet that Earth could never reach. No one will ever find them again."

Hawkmoth sagged in defeat.

"Adrien doesn't know." he spoke, "He had nothing to do with this."

"Then, let him live his own life, like your wife would have wanted." The Guardian whispered, "Spend time with him. The Justice League will be keeping an eye on you and your movements from now on."

Ladybug walked up to Adrien Agreste.

"Ladybug, I had no idea-" he began.

"Chat, I'm sorry." she whispered.

"Huh?" the model stammered, "Did you steal away from Plagg? You replaced me?"

"I had too." She answered.

"When did you find out?" Adrien asked, "Did you-"

"You know we've been getting help from the Justice League." Ladybug spoke, "At one point I had to recharge and someone was able to sense Tkiki. They came along hoping to sense ShadowMoth's kwamis. I had to take him from you; they sensed you were in danger."

"I don't understand!" he cried out.

She sighed, "Your father was Hawkmoth."

"No!" Adrien exclaimed, "We ruled him out!"

"He got smart. He threw us off his trail." Ladybug continued, "He won't go to jail, but he will be under Justice League surveillance. They will know every keystroke on his computer and be able to listen to every phone call. You can still have your father; be thankful you are not losing him too."

Adrien sagged in defeat, "What happened? Did he really have a stoke?"

"The temporary chat snuck up behind him and knocked him out. We think realizing he lost the miraculous caused the stroke." Ladybug declared.

"Why?" Adrien asked, "Why did he-"

"Your mother is very ill." She admitted, "He wanted to heal her."

"That's it?" he shouted, "All these years? All of Paris' pain and suffering, the nightmares.....it was for my mother?"

"I'm sorry." The Guardian apologized.

"Can I know who you are?" Adrien questioned, "You promised."

"I wish I could, but you're too close to him." Ladybug answered, causing him to pale, "Plagg is in good hands for now. I will be giving up my mantle today. I won't even remember you; I don't want to cause you anymore pain. Can you really handle seeing me everyday when I won't be able to remember my own name?"

Adrien's eyes began to water.

"I wish you a good life, Chat." She smiled, "Find love. Be happy. Your father can no longer design. Gabriel will likely fall so you won't have to model anymore."

He smiled through his tears.

"Do what makes you happy." Ladybug declared, before leaving.

"Are you sure that was a wise thing to do?" Damian questioned.

Marinette nodded, "He deserves to be happy. The Justice League will have him under heavy surveillance and if he starts to follow in his father's footsteps, I'll use the Peacock to undo him."

"I thought I was meant for the Kwami of Destruction." Damian smirked.

"Oh, shut up." Mari scoffed.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 2

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 1 794

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Of new names and teasing

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part

Duke knew that Dani was in their agreed meeting point, he even vaguely knew where she was floating but not much more. She used her invisibility, which was weird since she knew it didn't work correctly on him. It was fifth time they met, of course they knew. 

"Hey Signal, remember how you said that I need a codename if we're going to hang out in future and that all my previous ideas were horrible names?" a disembodied girly voice asked. Duke smiled. Ever since he raised the idea, the girl would come up with ridiculous names to be called, proposing them with absolutely straight face. It was expected from someone who thought Dani Phantom was a good alias. It didn't make her ideas any less amusing.

"Of course I do. Whatcha got for me today?"

"Alright, since you don't let me be a name stealer, I decided to take a sheet from local nightlife's notebook–"

"You mean take a leaf from their book?" He was sure she was rolling her eyes on him, but it didn't stop him. No one could maim English language like that with him around.

"Whatever. I chose to steal their idea and became a bird. It's only fair since I can actually fly!"

"Can't exactly disagree. So, what did you get this time?"

"You'll like that, I promise. But now, I introduce to you…"

Duke got ready to shut down every Robin iteration and all Birdgirls he could think of.

"HOOPOE!" Dani yelled, popping back to the visible spectrum. She was covered in bright orange cape with weirdly shaped hood and flimsy mask "I even did some costume changes to fit the name better–" in all honesty, one, yeah, he wasn't blind he realized, two, he needed a moment to remember how these birds looked (his first thought was 'wait it's a thing?!'). But then he got it and yeah, those were funny little creatures, just like Dani. It fitted her "–so even if you don't like it, it doesn't matter," she added, sticking her tongue out.

Duke patted her on the head. He was there, he knew it mattered.

"It's a great name Hoopoe"

Dani visibly though probably unconsciously, relaxed. Her mouth curved into a proud grin and her aura brightened. Normal auras didn't do that. He got used to Dani surprising him like that sometimes.

"Of course it's great, I made it."

Duke chose to not remind her about almost two dozen times she came up with absolutely not great names or about the fact that technically she didn't quite make this one either. He wasn't in such a petty mood. Maybe in future if he needed blackmail.

Oh, it was such a Bat thing, wasn't it? He needed to spend some more time with his civilian to get it out of himself, he liked his ability to interact with normal people in a healthy way. 

*

"Wait, is your mask a paper?"

"What else could it be, titanium?"

"If you stop three muggings on the next three patrols each I'll get you a better one, okay?"

"Hey, my mask is perfectly fine"

"Yeah, but it can tear too easily. I can get you a mask that is more sturdy."

"Aha."

"It's the same material every Robin and Nightwing wear…"

"Don't care, my mask is flawless"

"..."

"Okay, better mask would be cool"

***

On the third patrol Dani joined, about a week and a half ago, they exchanged numbers. Duke knew how hard it was to come to terms with new powers on one's own and God strike him with a lightning or something if he ever lets anyone go through similar bullshit. Especially since she didn't seem to have anyone taking care of her. Girl her age shouldn't be able to hang out or respond to messages within ten minutes at any given time. Only twice she didn't do that, because she was on a celebrity hunt for autographs as she later explained. He would be teased endlessly if any Wayne or their associate learned about it, but he considered introducing Dani to Bruce. She needed help, okay?! He didn't inherit adoption tendencies.

But he hadn't done that, partially because he didn't want to scare Dani off and partially because of fear of teasing. And bet. Because of course in the meantime somehow there happened a bet. 

He smirked at the video Dani sent as a response to the hydration check. She was tossing a coin and playing an elimination game to pick one juice from eight drinks she had. Steph jumped over the back of the couch to join him. At the start she was in front of him so to do that she had to run around the furniture but such minor inconveniences couldn't even wish to stop her dramatics.

"You're smiling at your phone ergo you either text your secret girlfriend/boyfriend/enbyfriend or watch memes. Show me the memes," she demanded, nudging him in the arm. Duke chuckled.

"Wrong guess. I'm texting my sidekick," they agreed it would be a funny way to introduce Dani to people who asked. Duke tried his best at this whole having sidekick thing anyway. As well as he could without help from other Bats because of this damn bet.

Steph froze for a moment.

"Your what–"

"And the lucky winner is… an apple with mint juice! Damn I really hoped it would be lemonade,"  Dani from the video announced cheerfully before opening the bottle" Shame it didn't make it past semi-finals. Happy hydration break. I'm going on an autograph hunt so I may not respond for the next two hours or so. Wish me luck, bye~"

Duke paused the video before it replayed. He glanced at Steph who finally rebooted.

"How come you got a kid and I learned about it just now?"

“In my defense I'm like 60% sure you're the second person in the family to learn about her. Depends if Tim got his ‘I have to know everything, gotta check body cams’ paranoid spree in the last two weeks or not. There was no teasing from Babs or anyone else if I'm being honest and no lecture from B, so they have no idea.”

“First was Alfred?”

“First was Alfred. I still don't know how.”

“That's our grandtler for you. You are forgiven but you have to tell me everything about her,” Steph demanded excitedly. “And show me the photos''

Duke snorted.

“She goes by Hoopoe and is about Damian's age. She can tell you her real name when B inevitably finds out and tries to interrogate her.”

“What if Spoiler drops by during the day?”

“You can try but give it another week and a day, okay?”

“Why?”

“We have bet that I'll hide her from B for three weeks. Tomorrow is the end of the second week. We both know how he is, he'll have questions if you randomly show up during the day."

"Stakes?"

"Speedster worth of winners favorite Batburger meal, 2 quarts of chosen drink and cookies"

"Valid. I ain't snitch, but I want to know more. Is she a meta?”

"Yeah. Powers I know of are invisibility, intangibility, superspeed, enhanced hearing and flight. Probably more. I think she already had some training with it because she has quite amazing control over this stuff. Like, it comes naturally to her. But her hand to hand is atrocious."

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Omg, you totally are! Don't be, she is just a baby with a better idea of what's going on with her powers than you have with yours. There is nothing to be mad about Duke, it's okay Duke–"

"Keep going and I won't tell you anything about her," he dared, trying not to snort. 

"Sorry, sorry, you're doing great, please continue," she nudged his arm again "Don't be such softie, dude" He stared at her at the comment, disbelief clear on his face. Steph at least then looked a little ashamed "Okay, sorry. You're honestly doing far better than any of us would. Excluding Cass and Alfred."

"Excluding Cass and Alfred," he agreed easily enough.

"So, you think your kid has some training with her powers," she recalled eagerly.

"Yeah, probably from when she was helping her cousin. He is a hero in Amity Park, Illinois, his name is Phantom. It took very little digging even though Hoopoe does her best to stay mysterious. I swear this kid has no brain-mouth filter. But! I got my second shovel talk from her cousin!”

“The what?”

“After a week of hanging out with her, I got message on Signal’s twitter from Phantom that basically read as ‘I have nothing against you, really dude I’m a fan but here is list of my most powerful enemies, and let me tell you, there were some scarily powerful guys there, I won with all of them, if something bad happens to Hoopoe I can and will destroy you.’ After some research, yes, I think he could try and have considerable chance of success. Even if he didn’t fight would be painful enough to be a lesson. He and Hoopoe have the same powers and she worked with him for some time. She most likely learned then. She was called Dani Phantom, boy went by Danny Phantom then”

“Dear gods, their aliases were so horrible, who even let them go with it?! Are those their first names?!” Steph sounded genuinely offended by it.

“I don’t know,” Yeah, he knew, but he preferred to keep at least this secret to himself ”In boy's defense, because Hoopoe came much later,  he was fourteen and Amity went to shit really fast, so alias was probably not his first concern. And it’s much better than Invioso-bill, name he was given by the press. And he uses some intense gaslighting to make people believe it’s just Phantom now. And allegedly they’re both ghosts. Apparently ghosts don’t exactly have secret identity”

“You doubt it”

“You would too. She eats, she breathes and she is tangible by default. From what I know, ghosts don’t do that”

“They don’t, I checked. I went on a research spree when I first learned about Deadman. I just thought it was so cool you know. Ghosts being real and all,” Steph leaned towards him, almost vibrating with anticipation.

“Really?” he asked, knowing what he was getting into.

“Yeah, you see…”

And on she went, releasing expected infodump as if she waited for this opportunity ever since she first read about it.

********

Some additional name getting shenanigans

Signal: I won't call you Dani in the field

Dani: Why?

Signal: Ever heard of secret identity? Name is, like, half of it. Disguise is other half but it can be exchanged with lore. Superman made it work. Just make up enough lore for people to not question it.

Dani: Oh, okay *gremlin^2 mode activated*

Random they just rescued: And who are you little one?

Dani: *looking them dead in the eyes* I am clone of dead child hero, travelling around the world to find identity separated from my template befre mistakes made during my creation make me turn into puddle of primordal liquid and my conciousness fades forever

Random: *petrified* What?

Signal: *internally* I have miscalculated

Dani: Kid Signal

Signal: No.

Dani: It works in Central

Signal: We're not in Central

Dani: Signalgirl

Dani: I mean, Batgirl exists

Signal: No.

Dani: Monochromatic Signal. Y'know, Red Robin route?

Signal: ...

Signal: Just no. Don't make my name part of your name

Next part

Do you want to see some Hoopoe doodles I made? There were redesigns!!!

[raileurta]

Prime kids redesign

Miko

Age: 16

She/they

Has Adhd with a bit of the spicy sadness.

She's the group’s muscle and emotional support! Miko fights using a combination of MMA inspired kickboxing and parkour. Her confidence combined with her spunky attitude never fails to lift the group's spirits!

Deceptixons beware! She won't hesitate to fight dirty to get one over on you

Raf

Age: 12.5

He/him? (Doesn't really know or care)

Was born with a weak left leg and needs a cane to walk.

Raf is the techno brainiac in the group. While physically he may be weak his hacking skills are second to none; even among Cybertron's best he would be considered a genius. Raf has skipped 5 grades already and has won multiple technology based tournaments. Ultimately though he's still very young and it will show.

His alias (. ) is wanted in 10 different countries for various hacking related crimes.

Jack

Age: 15

He/him

CPR certified.

The group's braincell singular braincell aka the responsible one. Jack is the only one holding the others back from committing various crimes usually being related to murder. He knows how to keep a level head and has the groundwork of a great leader in the future.

Has two jobs currently; one at a car repair shop and the other at a fast food joint.

Explanation under cut

Miko's my favorite of the bunch so I really wanted to do her justice. I gave her a more punk type of aesthetic without trying to take away her colors. Since she can be very reckless sometimes I would imagine she has a lot of injuries and scars from her adventures. (I also made her interested in kemonomimi because why not 🤷)

The doll on her hip is a reference to Bulkhead; all the kids have something that reminds them of their guardian if you look for it. She's also the oldest because I thought it would be more interesting despite being older she's less mature than Jack.

Thought it would be interesting if Raf had another injury or condition that impacts him. I know genius with a physical disability is overplayed sometimes but it's a good trope. I wanted him to be a little cuter since he's the baby of the group so I gave him some freckles. He also has red eyes because it looks cool and it would link back to his poor eyesight. People born with red eyes usually have pretty bad vision problems.

He has some headphones to listen to music when he's being a nerd and carries his laptop in his bag along with other things.

Visually Jack is quite boring in the show so wanted to add some extra color to him. I was tempted to go a more emo route but I felt that didn't fit him. He gives off “I get bullied vibes” (canon) so I gave him a black eye and a loner feel.

His hat is a gift from his dad before he left for some extra angst.

If you have a sharp eye you would notice that all the kids have stars on them and are injured in some way. The reason for this is I thought it would be cute if the bots refer to them as starlight or other star related nicknames. Plus these guys are in an alien war they're going to get hurt eventually.

I didn't mention everything so you can find things for yourself.

That's about it for my take on them and as an extra here's the gacha version of IRL me:

(Yes I do need to wear an eye patch unironically for eye related issues)

[whore-era]

hii could you make a pornstar!ellie x reader imagine with any storyline! or a pornstar!ellie x reader headcanons? i absolutely love your work especially your ellie imagines! <3

pornstar!ellie headcanon: comforting her girlfriend 18+

not sure if this was what anon was asking, but this is what i came up with! enjoy!! mentions sex and bdsm/kinks, beware

under the alias, ellie sins (lets not talk about it), ellie williams never thought she'd find a stable and healthy relationship because of her career, but here you were, the girlfriend of one of the most infamous pornstars under the 'lesbian' category on any adult site.

being a pornstar's girlfriend brought out some unprecedented feelings you never thought you'd experience, insecurity.

of course you'd feel insecure, she fucked beautiful, sexy women for a LIVING

getting off from work and climbing into your shared bed inside your shared apartment, ellie greets you with a cuddle, "hey beautiful, how was your day?", she asks pressing a kiss behind your shoulder, "mmm, 'twas alright. just did some errands and picked up some groceries— oh! i found those animal crackers you loved so much so i picked those up," you smile, and her eyes light up. "yes! thank you, babe," biting your lip anxiously, your curiosity gets the best of you, "how was your day at work?" ellie turns over in bed to look at the ceiling, "oh, you know— same old, same old. just filmed another scene today." "how was it?" "it was fine, don't really feel like talking about it. it wore me out."

you tried not to pry about what went on when she was filming, but you couldn't help it. ellie has voiced that she never really liked talking about what she did at work in general, and she always reminded you that what she filmed and what people watched in private was never the same as the 'real thing'.

curiosity killed the cat, and you just had to search. ellie sins.

numerous thumbnails of her fucking gorgeous, more appealing women popped up, sending you down a hole. video after video played on your phone, ellie sins was dominant, degrading, controlling, and aggressive. the girls she would work with were stunning and fit and sensual and experienced and — not you. you began to have doubts about why ellie was with you in the first place.

"baby? you okay?," ellie asks, snapping you out of your deep thought, "you've been quiet ever since i got home. anything on your mind, sweet girl?" she queries. you hesitate to answer, not wanting her to know that you were watching her videos, but you were overwhelmed with emotion.

you burst into tears and covered your face with your hands, the cuffs of your sleeves over your fingers. "baby. hey, hey, hey," ellie takes you in her arms, "what's wrong? c'mon, tell me." she gently takes hold of your wrists, pulling them apart to reveal your face — all red and flushed, eyes puffy and wet with tears.

"i-i'm sorry, els," you hiccup, "i know you don't like talking about work— and i was curious—" hiccup, "and i just had to search—" hiccup, "and i watched some videos—"

the realization hits ellie, "you watched some of my videos?" she interrupts your ramble. you nod, and she lets out a chuckle, "if you were so curious about what i did, why didn't you ask?" you look down, fiddling with your fingers, "'cus it seems like you never wanna talk about it." a small smile forms on ellie's face and she takes you in her lap, "well, yea, silly girl. my type of work drains me dry and when i'm with you, i just wanna focus on you and you only." "yea, well, you're working with these sexy and experienced girls all day," you confess, "they're so pretty and curvy and fit and—"

ellie cuts you off with a kiss, "they aren't you," she whispers, pulling away, "they don't have your warm eyes or your adorable nose. they don't have your amazing fucking body, stretch marks and all. they don't sing to ice spice in the kitchen while they make dinner. they don't road rage like you do when someone cuts them off on the freeway," her compliment elicits a giggle from you, "those girls i work with, they're cool and all, but they could never compare to you, baby."

"how 'bout we do this. you come with me to work tomorrow and see what i really do on the daily?"

"AND CUT!" the loud shout of the woman causes ellie and her co-star, cat, to stop and pull away. under the hot, fluorescent studio lights combined with the numerous people watching and the repetitive amount of takes, you then realize that porn isn't really like how it is online. it's actually, super awkward and exhausting work to perform. you would pat every pornstar on the back if you could.

bringing ellie her robe and a bottle of water, she slips it on and uncaps the water, gulping it down. "you did really great, babe! i'm so proud!" you dote, giving her a kiss on the cheek, evoking a smile from her. "thank you, baby," she responds. "i never knew someone could squirt so much! like wow, it just kept spurting out, i thought she would've passed out from dehydration," you express in amusement, gaining a loud laugh from your girlfriend. "yea, it's all just effects and stimulants. not so fun."

ellie's co-star, cat, appears in front of you, donned in a silk robe with mascara streams still down her face from the amount of times ellie fucked her ass with the strap. "oh my god!! you must be the girlfriend!" cat exclaims, she pulls you in for a tight hug. "i've heard so much about you! it's so nice to finally put a face to the name!" and the two of you indulge in conversation, discovering that you and co-star indeed had a lot in common.

watching from a distance, ellie watches you interact with cat. her heart swelled in her chest, grateful that she took the risk of dating instead of letting her career hold her back. ellie was lucky to have met someone as understanding and amazing as you, and she was even more thankful that you were open to getting to know her world. and she would spend the rest of the time that you two are together reminding you that no matter how many girls she works with on a daily basis, that she'll always come home to you.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

ALEX DEWITT (DC COMICS)

1.) The term “fridging” is literally based on Alex and what happened to her. She was killed off violently by a bad guy trying to get at her boyfriend only a couple issues after she was introduced (making it obvious they only brought her in to kill her off for shock value). Her death did very little to the narrative other than hurt her boyfriend Kyle and was done in an exceedingly horrifying and violent way. (Bad guy came to the door with flowers and threatening note, broke in and attacked her, choking her to death, before [off panel] chopping her body up and sticking it in the refrigerator as a “surprise” for her boyfriend. This obviously is really fucked up and she deserves better and should win this actually (a vote for Alex is a vote for all fridging victims [in spirit])

2.) It doesn’t get much worse than being the character whose death originated the “fridging” trope. In Green Lantern Vol. 3 #54, Kyle Rayner comes home to find that Alexandra, his girlfriend, has been killed by the villain Major Force and stuffed into the refrigerator.

Alexandra DeWitt is the character whose misogynistic treatment coined the term where a character, usually female, is killed off purely to make the main character, usually male, feel bad. Even if there are other characters who have been subjected to similar levels of misogyny, Alexandra DeWitt’s treatment has been essentially immortalized.

3.) I know she’s not going to win but shout out to my home girl, literally the trope namer for women shoved in fridges. All anyone ever knows about her is that she was Kyle’s girlfriend and got murdered for his character development, even though she had plenty of potential to be her own character.

AMBER VOLAKIS (HOUSE MD)

1.) Holy shit thank you for reminding me about Amber. Her nickname that almost everyone calls her to her face every day is Cutthroat Bitch. When she & Wilson start dating there are so so so many jokes about her keeping his balls in her purse & having him whipped & etc etc just bc she’s assertive & confident. & then the whole two-part episode where they fridge her (which is. not quite house’s fault directly but he definitely contributed to it) they make it completely about house & wilson & maybe 2% about HER. I’m still mad forever

2.) After being fridged, she does show up in later seasons! As a hallucination. She shows back up to be the devil on House’s shoulder when he is hurtling towards a vicodin-induced breakdown. Literally only shows up to steer him into making bad decisions (including almost killing Chase (allergic to strawberries) by inviting him to a party where the stripper is wearing strawberry scented lotion that sends him into anaphylaxis)

3.) im so glad someone else submitted amber because she fits so well for this poll but i couldnt get my words out right but im going to try again anyway. i think an important aspect of how ambers character is treated and written for the audience has to do with if a man did what she did, hed be opportunistic and ambitious, if not a bit of an ass, but because shes doing it it makes her ‘bitchy’. “cutthroat bitch” “coldhearted bitch” etc is practically her canon alias at this point by how much she is referred to that way rather than her name. she is probably the most humanized out of wilson’s canon relationships and its mostly because theyre paralleling her to house. she deserved so much better she deserved the world and more

[supercorpkid]

Powergirl Should Die

Supergirl. Powergirl. B!D. Kara Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Alex Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Lena Luthor, Winn Schott.

Word Count: 2550.

Porwergirl should die. Someone should kill her.

The suit is skin tight, it clings so forcefully onto you as if it's trying to become part of you. But this other skin, just simply doesn’t fit right over your bones. 

There is a huge House of El crest over your chest, in its golden glory. It weighs down on your skin, heavy and sacred. It should help you feel at ease. It doesn’t. It feels like it’s burning your skin like a branding iron. 

Kryptonian? 

Yes. 

Super powers? 

Yes. 

You’re a superhero. Next, please!

Kara stands tall next to you, hand on your shoulder. “Would you look at that,” your sister smiles brightly at you. “Mother and father would be so proud of you, mini me.”

Kara has called you that your whole life, but you never felt so little as you do right now. You've also never felt so much like Kara. Crumpled up inside this supersuit to fit someone else’s dream. You don’t think your parents would be very proud of you now.

“Kara, this feels odd.” You try to lift the suit from your skin, that is so snuggled up it barely leaves you room to breathe. “I-I look like you.”

“I know!” She proudly squeaks. “I asked Winn to only change the colors. How do you feel about the white, red and blue?”

“Like a walking American flag.” You wince at the thought. You like the white, it’s a little more sober than the blue in Kara's suit, it also reminds you of the vest you used to wear back in Krypton. The red cape feels like they've ripped a piece of Kara’s and placed it on your back. The high blue boots are uncomfortable and the matching gloves are just plain stupid.

“You certainly don’t look like one.” Alex chimes in from behind you, and you turn around, sick of the sight of you in the mirror. “Honestly sis, I like this suit. I think it might be even better than Kara’s.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, mine has history.”

“Yours is a copy of Superman’s.”

“That’s what I mean, history.”

You watch your sister’s bickering with faint attention because they both would never say how ridiculous you look with this dull, hideous, comical outfit.

But it didn’t matter how foolish you looked, or how stupid you felt. There was no way out of this. Kara said you looked perfect and Alex agreed. J’onn, who’s been the closest thing to a father to you on this planet, gave you a stiff smile when asked what he thought. He could read your mind, remember? That’s what he thought about it. And Winn was just over the moon with his creation. No way out. From that day on, you’re Powergirl.

It hasn’t been long since you started being Powergirl. You’re still not the most prominent face of the Supers, thank God for that. You do the easy jobs while Kara takes on the real bad guys. You follow her lead. Obey to what Alex tells you to do over the comm that is permanently stuck in your ear. As if you couldn’t hear her from miles and miles away.

But with every passing day, it becomes even more obvious to you that you were really not cut out for this superhero life. Not good at it. Not happy with it. Not fit for it.

The very opposite of Kara, actually. Because Kara fits everywhere and with everyone. She fits perfectly in her suit, with her alias. Perfectly at her job at CatCo, as a news reporter. And ever since she landed on Earth she created her perfect family, story, life on this planet. 

You, on the other hand, wish everyday you were still at Krypton. You are well aware that if you stayed behind, that if your parents hadn't made Kara snuggle your smaller form against her own body on that pod, you would have exploded. You wouldn't be alive today. And you wish people knew you don't want to be dead, you just wish your planet hadn't exploded in the first place.

Sure Kara feels the same. Yet she makes a name for herself and gives back to this planet that took you both in so willingly, that gave you both powers because of its sun. Kara is just different.

"Mother would want us to use our powers for good." She would whisper to you in the dark, whenever the Danvers would tell you to not use your powers. Whenever they asked you to fit in completely. "Father spent so much time trying to stop our planet from deteriorating, don't you think that if he had powers he would use them to make that happen?"

She would ask you questions that didn't feel like questions. That required no answers at all. Kara would tell you what she knew about them, use them as arguments to explain to you (convince even) why you had to become a superhero too. 

And you would lay there in the dark, after your sister was asleep, looking at the long dead stars, and wondering whether she was right. Whether that was your parents' plans all along or just a sad coincidence.

"Powergirl." You hear Kara's voice early in the morning while you're still trying to brew yourself a cup of coffee. "I need you for a second."

"It's too early in the morning and I have to get ready for work." You press on your comm to answer. "Can't you deal with it alone?"

"Hm, no. I need you to come here now." 

You let out a huge sigh, trying to ease your own mind. Coffee will wait, you guess. You're out of your pj's, into your suit, and out of the house in a blur. You stop next to Kara while she stares at a billboard.

"What?" You can't help the harshness of your tone as you see no emergency around her.

Kara says nothing. Only points at the billboard and you finally take note of it. Written in large red colors, the sentence: Powergirl should die.

Huh.

"It seems that you have an enemy." Kara says when time enough has passed for you to read the sentence over a few times. "Don't worry, we'll catch them."

Cute. It's your first thought. It's almost like someone wrote you a love letter, au contraire. 

Kara makes an effort to tear it all down, destroy the billboard before anyone sees it. You don't help her, stuck inside your own mind, replaying the words in your head. 

"No need to worry." She assures you, hand on your shoulder to get you out of your trance. "No one will do you any harm, mini me. I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"Thanks, Kar." You look at your watch on your wrist. "Work calls." And so you fly home.

You try to lodge that sentence in the back of your mind. You don't wanna seem stressed out, even though you are. But showing how actually worried you are about it, and with the fact that someone is coming for you, it's inconceivable. 

Kara would worry. Alex would stress. Ooof, you can see it all playing out. Sleepovers and excuses for you to miss work and hang at the DEO headquarters so they can keep an eye on you, until you're feeling suffocated.

No, no. You can't go through that. It's been a while since you and your sisters shared a bedroom. You don't think you three can do that again now that you're grown ups. 

It happens again. You don't see it, but you hear the agents commenting about it, a couple days later. They get muted the second you fly in the DEO, which is not only annoying but foolish. You do have super hearing after all.

"So, where was it this time?" You ask Alex, while she tries to avoid looking at you. 

"Where's what?" She tries, and you furrow your brows.

"Winn, put it on the monitor." You ask coming closer. Winn looks at Alex as if asking for permission, but you don't give her time to deny him. "Come on, I heard the agents. I'm still Kryptonian even if I'm not a Super."

Winn huffs. "On the tallest building of National City." The photo goes up on the large TV in front of you, and you swallow deep.

Powergirl should die. 

"Y/N," Alex talks in a low tone so the agents around can't hear her. "it's not personal."

"Looks personal." You cross your arms, turning your back at the TV. "Someone wanting me dead sounds like it's as personal as it can get."

"Supergirl is looking into it, I promise we'll catch whoever did this."

"Alex, please." You pass her on your way to the training room. "You know damn well my favorite thing about you is that you don't lie."

"You've lost too many punching bags." You hear a voice behind your back, and you breathe deep before turning around.

"Just training a little." You look at the number of destroyed bags by your feet and decide that it's true, there's too many, even though that's what they're here for. 

"Alex told me about the message." Kara approaches you slowly, trying to test the territory. She can see your distress, but doesn't know the extent of it. And she won't, because you're definitely going to fake it.

"Yeah, tall building. They got the writing off quickly, though. So no major problems."

"Honey," Kara's voice is even sweeter now, if that's possible. "I'll catch them. I'll be patrolling tonight. No one's coming for you."

"I'm not worried." You smile at your lie, or half of lie for what it's worth. Knowing that Kara will be patrolling the city helps. You know your sister would never let anything bad happen to you. And it's very unlikely that anyone on this planet could easily defeat two Kryptonians.

Kara also smiles, and brings you into her arms for a hug. And you breathe out, calmer. Kara's arms have kept you safe from many perils. Spaceship lost in space, new planet, new school, new job. Surely she can keep you safe again.

You don't feel safe, though, when you wake up to a familiar voice far away. You rub the sleep from your eyes, well awake, paying close attention to a conversation you weren't invited to be a part of.

"Alex, I went around the city, there's no new wri-"

"Kara? What was that?"

There it was, in big red letters the sentence that has been haunting you for days. Powergirl should die. And under it new words' been added, someone should kill her.

"I found new writing." Kara's voice comes a second later. "It's worse this time."

"Take a picture so we can compare the handwriting and get back here."

"I have to clean this up." But before Kara even has the chance to, you're flying next to her in front of the L Corp building. "Y/N! What are you doing here?"

You move closer to the building to investigate. The ink is still wet, it wasn't done too long ago. You look around trying to find cameras. It's Lena's building, you're sure there are cameras everywhere. You spot one with a direct view.

"Mini me-" Kara tries.

"Go to work Supergirl, I'll deal with this. Someone wanting me dead is my problem." It's always been your problem, you are aware. But Kara promised you, you had nothing to worry about. Promised she would patrol the city. Promised she would protect you. And yet, here it is, in big block red letters.

"But-"

"I got it, Kara. Can you just believe in me?"

"Y/N, you know I do. I just wanna help."

"I don't need help." You clench your jaw, tired of being treated like a little girl. Like a mini Kara instead of your own person. "I'm Kryptonian too."

Cheap shot? Maybe. Definitely. You throw it, anyway. 

You clean the writing then fly home to suit up. You can't face Lena without it. Another secret that only makes you hate your secret identity as hard. Lying to your friends, sneaking out, it's all stressing and there's literally no reward high enough worth of all this.

"Lena."

"Oh shit." Lena's hand goes to her chest after her obvious scare. You can hear her heart almost beating out of her chest. "It's too early for bad news, Powergirl."

"Trust me, I agree with that." You breathe out, trying to give her a smile. It comes out flat. "I was wondering if I could look into one of your surveillance cameras. There was some writing on this building this morning, I would very much like to know who's responsible."

"Writing? I - I didn't see anything when I came in."

"Good. I cleaned it as fast as possible." You point at her computer and she breathes deep as if she is agreeing with you. 

It doesn't take long for the images to be up, and you two to be carefully reversing the filming until Lena sees you and Kara flying in front of it, and read the words herself. She looks up to you and quirks up an eyebrow, in question.

"Currently unsure if someone is threatening me or if this is just general knowledge being passed on." 

"People don't want you dead, you're a superhero!" Lena argues. "Maybe Lex, but he's currently serving his time."

"Clearly not everyone agrees with you." You point back at the words on her computer.

"It's awful." She admits, even though she doesn't fully trust you or Kara yet. "Wait, wait. There."

You can't see a thing. One minute is there, the other isn't. You slow down the images, trying to see any detail. Lena soon takes over and slows down as much as she can. That's when you see it, just a tiny flash of red. You hold your breath. Thankfully, Lena hasn't noticed it.

"How's this possible? There's no one." 

"Seems that I'll have to patrol the city myself tonight." You're almost leaving Lena's office when you turn around one more time. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Luthor."

"I was barely of any help at all." Lena points at the computer as proof and you give her a smile.

"Au contraire, darling. You showed me everything I needed to see." You wink at her, then fly out.

You march inside the DEO, positive on your plan. No one is talking you out of it, that's for sure.

Winn tries to argue that it is illogical for you to just give yourself to your enemy. He gets ignored. Alex argues that as a DEO agent she can't let you do this, and as your older sister she would be insane to leave you alone in this situation. You don't budge. Kara pulls out the big guns, her promise to mother and father, her duty as your protector, how you're the only connection she still has with Krypton, her love for you and so on. Her cries fall on deaf ears.

So at night, you fly around National City watching and studying everyone in it, even though you know you should only be looking for one person. One person with superspeed, a red cape and a big motive.

[jackiequick]

Ben Carter ~ Rebel Just For Kicks | Marvel Studios OC

Full Name: Bennett Sawyer Carter

Nicknames: Ben, Benni, Benji, Sawyer, Scout, Ace

Alias: Oliver Halloway, Jackson Harper, Dean Nolan, James Shepherd, Bellamy Wheeler, Jonathan Hunter, Leon Lance etc

——

Date Of Birth: October 16th, 1984

Place Of Birth: New York City

Place Of Residency: Washington, DC

——

Family: AGENT 13, Sharon [CLASSIFIED] — Sister

—————

“I wanted to be teacher but my father didn’t allow it. So now I live in the shadow of my older sister, but I do this job to protect her.”

“Did you really just challenge me to burger eating contest?”

“Yippee ki yay, mother-oops, sorry, there’s children present..”

“Man, I need a break. Who wants pie?”

————————

Personality: 

He is delightful blend of charm and goofiness, often bringing humor to even the most serious situations. His clumsy nature leads to lighthearted moments, endearing him to those around him. 

Beneath his playful exterior lies a fiercely loyal protector; Ben would selflessly throw himself into harm's way to shield his loved ones, demonstrating an unwavering commitment to their safety. 

With a quick wit and a knack for sarcasm, he deftly navigates tense scenarios, using humor to defuse potential conflicts. Friendly and charismatic, he easily connects with others, making him a beloved figure among friends and allies alike.

-------

Background 📖

Growing up in a family where his sister, Sharon (AGENT 13), was clearly the high achiever, Bennett always felt the pressure to live up to his family’s expectations. 

His dream of becoming a teacher was dismissed by his father, who pushed him toward a path of espionage or government work like his sister. While Sharon excelled, Bennett found solace in humor and developing a carefree persona to cope with the pressure.

—

“I don’t want to be like Sharon or you or even aunt Peg, dad! I want to teach and travel, not go around getting myself into trouble.” Ben replied.

“Son, you will be a fine young agent just like me. Being a teacher is too small of a career and you won’t be paid much.” Michael, his father, add in a stern tone. “You’re a Carter, act like it.”

“But I am not fit for that kinda job…”

“You say that now, but you will be.”

“Dad...”

—

While Ben respected his father and admired Sharon’s achievements, he couldn’t help but feel torn. More than anyone in his family, Aunt Peggy Carter had always fascinated him. She was a legend in her own right, a brilliant strategist, co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D., and a woman who had helped shape the modern intelligence world. Yet, despite her immense legacy, Ben wondered if Aunt Peggy might have understood his desire to take a different path.

Sometimes, when the pressure became too much, Ben found himself wondering, What would Aunt Peg say if she were here?

Deep down, he believed she would have told him to follow his own path, to be his own person. Unlike his father, Peggy might have recognized that having goals—big or small—was important. But Ben never had the chance to ask her. And that uncertainty gnawed at him.

Would Peggy have supported his choices? Or would she have dismissed his dreams like his father had?

This question haunted Ben, even as he tried to balance his own desires with his family’s expectations. He longed for a mentor who would understand him, someone who wouldn’t see his dreams as "too small."

Though he eventually followed the path set out for him, Ben’s inner struggle never fully disappeared. He carried the question of Peggy’s approval with him, both as a source of strength and as a reminder of what he had given up.

---

-------

—Relationship with Sharon Carter 🛠���

Growing up, Sharon and Bennett shared a close bond. As the older sibling, Sharon was protective of her little brother, often looking out for him when their father’s strict expectations weighed heavily on him. In their early years, they had a lot of fun together—playing games, pulling pranks, and exploring the streets of New York. Sharon was always the more confident and adventurous one, while Ben was more cautious, happy to follow her lead.

But as they got older, the gap between them began to widen. Sharon embraced the world of espionage with determination, diving headfirst into training and missions. She became the perfect soldier in their father’s eyes, the embodiment of the Carter legacy. 

Ben, on the other hand, grew unsure of himself. He admired Sharon’s strength and skill but resented the fact that her success only made him feel more inadequate. Often feeling torn between his personal dreams and the family legacy.

Despite their differences and the tension that arose from their father’s expectations, Ben and Sharon deeply cared for each other. Sharon was fiercely protective of Ben, even if she didn’t always understand his reluctance to embrace their family’s legacy. Ben, in turn, admired Sharon’s strength and independence, even if he resented the comparisons made between them.

As Ben began to settle into his own role in intelligence work—whether by choice or circumstance—Sharon continued to watch out for him. He didn’t want to live in Sharon’s shadow, but he also didn’t want her to get hurt. Part of his decision to follow the family path came from his desire to protect Sharon—to make sure she never faced the dangers of their work alone.

—

"I do this job for a lot of reasons," Ben once confided in a rare moment of vulnerability. "But mostly? I do it to protect you."

Sharon, uncharacteristically quiet, nodded. "I don’t need protecting, Ben."

"I know," he replied, looking down shaking his head and then looked straight at her. "But I’m still going to try."

——

—-

They weren’t as close as they had been in their childhood, but they had come to respect each other’s choices. 

Sharon continued to work in her career, while Ben had found his own way, even if it wasn’t the life he originally wanted.

————

———————

——

| CARTER — S.H.I.E.L.D. Associate | ⚖️ |

While Bennett initially resisted the idea of following in his family’s footsteps, particularly those of his father and sister, he eventually found a place within S.H.I.E.L.D., albeit on his own terms. He didn’t strive to be a leader or a figurehead, but he knew that protecting those he cared about—and finding his own way to make a difference—was important.

Reluctant Start, Natural Talent

After years of pushing back against his father’s expectations, Bennett’s path eventually led him to S.H.I.E.L.D. He realized that, whether he liked it or not, his family’s legacy wasn’t something he could easily escape. Yet, when he decided to join S.H.I.E.L.D., it wasn’t out of a desire to live up to the Carter name exactly—it was about finding his own purpose. He just wanted to make his mark in a way that felt authentic to him.

Though Ben had always been reluctant to pursue espionage, he discovered he had a natural talent for certain aspects of the job. He wasn’t the best strategist or mastermind like other agents, but he excelled in the physical and tactical elements of the work.

——

"Watch it, Carter. You're like a kid in a candy store," Maria Hill remarked dryly, watching as Ben eagerly examined the array of weaponry laid out in the SHIELD armory.

Ben scoffed, flashing a grin. "Hill, lighten up. It's a wall full of guns, knives, and other weaponry! Look at this," he said, picking up a sleek new handgun and examining it with gleaming eyes. "And ooh, is that a new set of bows and arrows? Bet Clint would love this!"

Hill shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the faint smirk on her face. Ben's enthusiasm, though sometimes overwhelming, was infectious.

——

~ Role within S.H.I.E.L.D. ⚙️

Active S.H.I.E.L.D. Associate: Bennett works as a simple, yet kind field agent, engaging in various missions and tasks for the organization.

Hand-to-Hand Combat: Skilled in close-quarters combat, always eager to improve and test his fighting abilities.

Weaponry Enthusiast: Excited by weapons, particularly guns, rifles, knives, and advanced tech. He enjoys trying out new gear.

Scouting Missions: Loves scouting and reconnaissance missions, especially because they let him travel and explore new places.

Undercover & Surveillance: Although reluctant at first, he secretly enjoys undercover work and surveillance, finding it both challenging and exciting.

——————

———

————————————

—Strengths & Weaknesses 🖥️

Strengths

1. Charisma and Charm

2. Loyalty and Protectiveness

3. Wit and Humor

4. Adaptability

5. Combat Skills

6. Empathy and Understanding

Weakness

1. Self-Doubt

2. Emotional Burden

3. Reluctance to Embrace Leadership

4. Tendency to Avoid Conflict

5. Clumsiness

6. Difficulty Accepting Help

——————————

———

———

Fun Facts & Quirks! 🧲

- Foodie at Heart -> This man loves burgers, pies, ice cream, donuts and etc. Depending on where he is, Ben will find some sort of food to eat.

“Did you seriously go and buy milkshake?” His teammate asked.

He shrugged and pointed, “What? You were takin’ too long. I got hungry.”

- Clumsy Charmer -> He is notoriously clumsy at times, often stumbling on his own feet or bumping into something by accident.

“Who put a damn step there? That wasn’t there before!” He shouted almost tripping over but caught himself quickly.

- Tv & Film Fan -> He is often found quoting a line from his favorites or referencing a form of media. However he doesn’t always like to repeat the same thing, more than twice.

“No more Punzel! If I have to hear Zachary Levi’s voice one more time, I’m done.” He shouts during moving night.

His friend gasps, “How dare you? Flynn Rider is wonderful!”

- Dreamer -> Despite having to cut out being a teacher in his life, he always wondered what he might’ve showned those young minds.

“I could’ve been a History teacher or English..? Not math, I suck at that subject! Hell, I might quit this job and find out..”

- He talks to favorite things -> He will talk to his car, his guns and jacket. You already know if Ben had a pet he will be chatting with that animal too.

He grins seeing his favorite handheld gun and picked it up, “Hello sweetheart, gods, I missed you.”

Other things include: Ben is a music lover, mildly superstitious, enjoys collecting items, fear of heights etc.

————

—————

Additional information | 📬 |

-> Favorite Hero

Bennett will never admit it but he enjoys the heroes he seems on the streets and in his line of world.

You would think because his aunt Peggy association to Captain America, automatically that’s his favorite. He admires and respects Steve Rogers greatly, hell he hopes to have enough goodness in his heart to be like him, but not his favorite.

He actually secretly admires Spider-Man for his wit, willingness to help out, relatability and kindness towards others. He only seen the hero from afar but he can tell why people online like him.

~~~

-> Dating Life

When it comes to dating, Bennett tends to casual date. Nothing serious. He enjoys meeting new people and exploring connections without the pressure of committing or wanting to make they both hit it off well.

He has had serval crushes over the years, nothing notably strong or anything. However he once had a significant crush on a fellow agent, but he never acted on it, fearing it could mess up their professional relationship. He didn’t to push anything.

His flirting style is light-hearted and humorous. He tends to use playful chill banter and finding whatever he can as a simple ice-breaker. His charm is evident in his ability to make others smile, and he often employs self-deprecating humor to put his crushes at ease.

Currently, Bennett is single and he doesn’t mind it actually. Honestly, he thinks no one can compete with his notorious lack of skills and put up with him half the time to his bad jokes. But hey? We might be wrong and there is a certain someone out there for him.

~~~~

~ Hobbies and Interests |🛋️| ~

Cooking: Bennett enjoys experimenting in the kitchen. He loves trying out new recipes, especially when it comes to making burgers and desserts. His friends often joke that he should open a food truck.

- “Who needs a Michelin star when you can make the perfect burger at home?”

Movie Buff & TV Binge-Watcher: Bennett has a soft spot for action flicks, buddy cop movies, and classic comedies. He often spends his free time rewatching old favorites or discovering new series to binge.

Collecting Vintage Memorabilia: Bennett enjoys collecting vintage movie posters, old records, and retro tech. His apartment is littered with relics of the past, from vinyl records to an old-fashioned radio. He particularly loves hunting for rare finds at flea markets and antique shops.

- “You can laugh at my vinyl collection all you want, but there's nothing like listening to the Life Is A Highway on the original record.”

Tinkering with Cars: Bennett inherited a love of cars from his father. He spends weekends tinkering with his car, working on engine repairs, or upgrading parts. He’s not a full-blown gearhead, but he enjoys spending time in his garage fixing up his old, reliable ride.

——

————

-> Fears and Insecurities |🪤| <-

Fear of Failure: Bennett often worries about not living up to his family legacy or his own potential. This fear sometimes holds him back from pursuing more serious relationships or challenges.

- “What if I’m just not cut out for this? What if I let everyone down?”

Insecurity About His Role & Fitting In: Sometimes he can feel like he’s qualified to be an agent, and to overcompensate that with humor.

- “I mean, I’m just a guy who likes burgers and makes a lot of bad jokes… how did I end up here?”

Fear of Not Finding His Own Path: Bennett has always wanted to follow his own dream of being a teacher or traveling, but the weight of family expectations and his current career pulls him in another direction. He’s afraid that he’ll never get the chance to live the life he truly wants, and instead, be stuck in a role he didn’t choose for himself.

- "Maybe it’s too late to figure out what I want. Maybe this is just who I am now…"

Insecurity About His Intelligence: Though he’s smart and capable, Bennett sometimes feels overshadowed by more academically inclined people, like the tech geniuses or strategists he encounters in SHIELD. He’s more street-smart than book-smart, and while he’s skilled, he occasionally doubts whether he’s as sharp as others around him.

- "Sure, I can shoot straight, but can I crack codes and come up with genius plans? Not so much. Maybe I’m just the muscle here."

~~~~~

-> Signature Style

Bennett tends to dress in casual, comfortable clothing—jeans, graphic tees, sweaters, thick jackets and sneakers.

He has a penchant for customizing his gear and equipment, adding personal touches that reflect his personality, such as stickers or playful designs.

~~~~~~

-> Habits

Midnight Snacker: Bennett has a habit of raiding the fridge late at night, often resulting in humorous situations when caught.

- “Don’t judge me, if my stomach is craving a handful of cereal at 1 in the morning.” He mumbled as he eats the mouthful of Honey-Nut Cheerios.

Movie Marathoner: He loves binge-watching movie series and often tries to convince friends to join him, complete with snacks and drinks. Sometimes he is found watching classic footage he got stored away somewhere while sipping a nice cup of coffee. Such as old race car footage.

Non-Stop Talker: Ben has a real habit of making one handed comments, give a witty compliment or over speaking in a conversation, especially when it’s not needed. Sometimes he can’t help it but spit out a few sentences and split out of the room just as quickly. Or if he gets nervous, he might ramble until someone shuts him up.

Short-Term Memory: He will never admit it but Ben has a tendency to forget things easily or get distracted, which results in issues for himself and others. People need to often repeat what they said a few times or Ben has to write it down somewhere to make sure he did it. He wonders if it’s on-set early Alzheimer like his aunt Peggy has but tries not to think about it too much. 

- “Can you repeat that? I only got caught half of what you said…” He replied looking up at you with a soft smile.

Vintage Fashion Enthusiast: One thing he will never admit nor you will ever except is for Ben to find fashion a causal factor in his life. He has a habit of wearing or finding timeless pieces whenever he went. Either a classic leather jacket, wrist watches, a necklace and or thick sweaters for colder temperatures. They’re simple items but a small part of him gets excited to wear them.

~~~~

~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

Hope you like him! I might consider to continue his story soon hehe 😉

Let me know what you think

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @djs8891 @starkleila @aidanxsophxoxo @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @topgun-imagines @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @ximehs @savemewattpad @theonlyblackcanary @terry-perry @triptuckers @daughter-of-melpomene @superspookyjanelle

[newtafterdark]

I’m not sure if it’s a good time to ask this, but after seeing @mrultra100’s post about the matter, what was your history with the Dr. Crafty show? And what kind of history did you have with the creator?

Ah, I see folks are talking about the whole mess on here now too? (As an important sidenote: I talked about it in length on my Twitter, but I privated my account and don't plan on ever using it again.)

For those who don't know, this is in reference to the Youtuber and VTuber that went by the alias "Dr. Crafty", also known as Alexander "Alex" Tansley.

The short of it is that I used to work for him for around two years and thought of him as a friend - until I reached the point of realizing that something was very wrong with having the man close to myself and my friends.

Basically, after making some fanart of some of the characters from his show, Crafty and I got in contact and it became what I thought was a fun friendship that developed throughout the months. Now I know better and I know he has a pattern of "befriending" people to get things out of them.

Around the end of 2018 I brought up that I'd be happy to help out with his show if he ever needed help… and that lead to me creating all of the "Questionable Qloset" tarot cards. (Which he put up on his Red Bubble without asking me. If there was ever money made with them, I never saw a cut.)

I was not doing well mentally at the time at all, hell, I worked on the tarot cards while being in medical rehab and he still was pushy for me to finish them way earlier than we had agreed on. But at this point I am not surprised that he took avantage of my less than great mental state. It seems to be a pattern for him, having read several testimonies.

That work unfortunately also lead to me being one of the absolutely overworked employees during the creation of the "I Need A Hero Academia" finale for his show. I was tasked to colour, shade and add effects to the storyline bits of one full episode of that three-part finale, and some bits in the third episode, along with coloring two short animations. Close to 200 illustrations coloured. 90 bucks for all of that work. And burned out at the end of it all. A nightmare.

I also was responsible for designing the Infinia Relics and big villain at the end of the series, but aside from one glimpse of her, that design mostly remained unused.

Along with that I was also partially responsible for the core idea behind "Shakeup Saloon", as I had the idea for the host character - but Crafty took my idea and warped it into something almost unreconizable. He also never credited the person who gave him the idea for the show itself in the first place, Nero (of "ToonGrin"), one of his editiors at the time.

In general, Crafty hated crediting us for all the work we did to make his shows a reality. I had to beg for myself and my co-worker Zaz (who did the lineart I colored) in the finale to be even credited in the last video of the three parter. We didn't even get credited on the video we did the most work on.

So… in general, looking back it was an exhausting work experience.

My personal gripes with him mirror the behavior you might've heard from a multitude of folks on Twitter last month.

Unwanted pushing to do NSFW rp (and me telling him off multiple times, but he would try again multiple times) and trying to do the same with anyone he perceived as female in my private discord server. If you were AFAB, he'd try to slide into your DMs, basically. Which also goes hand in hand with him completely disreguarding that I am a trans man and drawing me with an hour glass figure and needing to be reminded to not draw me with massive tits. It just felt like if he percieved you as a women, he'd use you for his own entertainment as he saw fit. It just took me too long to realize that. Still, I managed to completely cut contact with him in 2020.

All in all, Crafty was a shitty boss and a creep who pretended to be my friend. And that's all I'll say on that matter on here.

Don't waste your energy on thinking about Crafty. Support his victims and let them heal.

[seeker-ophelia]

OK, this is mostly for the lols, but... I honestly couldn't help it. Ya'll wonder why all I do is repost beautiful art, is cuz I am WELL AWARE how difficult and skillful it is. and how bad I am at it

You asked for this @nadas-dirthalen

I want to tag @pinacoladamatata to share with us their Rook. Their art kills me and I love them to bits.

Behold, My Rook:

Name: Danivas Aldwir

Nickname/Alias: Dani

Pronouns: she/her

Lineage: Elf (City)

Faction: Veil Jumpers

Class: Mage (Spellblade)

Potential Romance: Probably Davrin but Taash is a close second 

Potential Friendships: Bellara (already bffs), Harding (likes her spunk), Davrin (appreciates his sacrifice, ride or die for Assan), Taash (reverent awooga), Varric (likes listening to his stories), Lucanis (if he will teach her that cool thing he does with his blades) 

Potential Rivalries: Neve (she's too cool, literally) Emmrich (he’s too nice, she doesn't trust him at first and thinks Mortalitasi are creepy, no, not scary, she’s not scared of him don't be ridiculous she isn’t afraid of anything stop SAYING that she just doesn’t like dead things, NOT AFRAID stop saying that! *screams when Manfred chortles behind her.) 

Tattoos/Scars: Elgar'nan on half her face only 

Notable Appearance Details: Blonde, bob, side undercut - spitting image of Gwen from the spiderverse. Prefers tight fitting clothing that doesn’t get in the way when she gets up close in combat. Binds her breasts. Hates the Dalish concept of footwraps, put some cursed boots on already. 

Anything Else You'd Like To Share: Dani was born into slavery in Minrathous. She started gaining the notice of her masters when her magic manifested, gaining even more attention when she hit puberty, her blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes making her exotic in Minrathous. The Shadow Dragons rescued her when she was a teen. She had the option to work with them, but wanted to try to connect to her Dalish heritage. Bellara was nice to her once and now is a huge role model for her. Where Bell is soft, Dani is hard, where Bell has curves, Dani is edges. Dani loves her very much. 

She took Elgar’nan’s vallaslin but asked for it only on half her face as a reminder of where she came from. 

Her masters used to call her Damni (Damno is latin for condem, and also for fine), but she took back the name when she left, taking Elvhen Dana (to break) and Vas (chains), making her new name Danivas, breaker of chains (Elvhen Lexicon Elvhen, not cannon). 

She is young (I'm thinkin 23), hotheaded, a purple/red rook combo. She has a lot to learn, and is going to get a big smack in the face when she realizes that sometimes her mouth and her temper are going to get her (and those she cares about) in trouble. The world is very black and white to her, and she’s going to have to accept that there are a multitude of shades of grey. 

She hates Solas immediately, the concept of any one individual having that much power makes her squirm, but doubt creeps in when she hears a rumor that The Dread Wolf was freeing slaves from the Imperium. 

[aro-geo-turtle]

MALEVOLENT PART 48 LETS GOOOO

Oh boy coughing up blood! That’s funnnnn

New characters: Barnabus and Gerard…and the absent Lord Everard. And now Friar Halbrook and Langward.

I’m worried about that “lesser house of god” comment. Alter to the great old ones hidden away somewhere maybe??

This feels like the start of a murder mystery, is this about to turn into a modern mystery?

I vibe with this Barnabus guy, I like him.

Lol cartoon villain beard

Alia Showl—don’t like that comment about her “maintaining decorum,” just what is she capable of?

Has…has Arthur just accidently joined the proto-Order of the Fallen Star??? That’s what this sounds like

Halbrook’s first name is Dorian, oooh he’s a polymath and scientist? That’s rad

Oh no now we find out what kind of person Arthur’s impersonating, what’s it going to be? “Aristocratic, captivating, and clever, your ability to fit into most any situation and do whatever you see is necessary…debate, beguile, manipulate.”—well that’s not too bad. Arthur certainly is clever and the people constantly becoming obsessed with him would probably call him captivating. He’s also very adaptable. The one thing I’m not sure about is the manipulation part, Arthur doesn’t usually think things through enough to really manipulate, lol.

The French guy, Gerard, is an architect. Reminds me of TMA’s version of Robert Smirke. Langward is a doctor, maybe he can help out Arthur! Barnabus is an astronomer and an alchemist??? RAD. And he apparently has…visions?

This is definitely the start of the Order of the Fallen Star

BLACK STONE! Well our quest just got a hell lot easier.

Wait no ok, I was wrong. The Order already exists, Langward is involved with it.

…but we’re not going to see the stone until tomorrow. Somebody’s about to get murdered and/or steal the stone for themselves and this is going to turn into a mystery. 100% certain on this.

Hmm yeah the ring thing is an interesting dilemma. That’s going to come into play later

I love how comfortable John is when giving confident advice and instructions to Arthur about what to do and say

Ahahahha what god do you follow Arthur? which one? One’s certainly been giving you instructions that you’ve been automatically following this entire time! I’m so curious about what John would have wanted him to say. …I’m not so sure saying that you’re an atheist is going to go over very well in this time/place/with this person.

…yeah, about what I expected.

Hah, maybe John can make up for Arthur’s lack of manipulative instincts

This is a murder mystery, this is a murder mystery!!! It’s been too long since Arthur got to be a proper detective, this is going to be funnnnn. Arthur’s picking up my vibes. Love this analysis

Aaaaand there it is! Here we go folks!

The friar was probably in bed at the time of the crime, but Arthur and john can’t confirm it! John you should have let Arthur confirm his location. …though waiting longer before going to the scream for help might cast suspicion on Arthur himself.

Oh yeah the death vision power! Honestly its been so long since that came up that I forgot it was something that they had. But they’ll still have to prove to the group that whatever they see is true

Langward is the victim, that’s interesting. And the friar is deeply suspicious. I look forward to whatever excuse Arthur is going to give for why a prince is also an excellent detective and why he should run this investigation

So Gerard is with the Order as well, and by Everard’s smile, he knew this, but didn’t out it to everyone earlier. Why? Seems almost as if he wanted Gerard to admit it himself. Now there’s two rings in play! Check the corpse for the order ring.

I’m with john, having the ring is way too dangerous. Still, having dallied that long is also dangerous, especially if anybody finds it. Arthur’s best bet might actually be claiming to be an order member himself or coming up with another excuse for having it

Of course there’s no ring, that’s what makes this mystery so interesting! The best way forward for Arthur is to be as honest and open as possible.

Arthur’s trying to piss off Barnabus for some reason, see if he slips up and reveals something in his rage? Arthur definitely can be manipulative sometimes actually, he just doesn’t get much opportunity to show it in this show

Oh that’s despicable Arthur. poor Barnabus. Still, it’ll buy Arthur time to figure out what really happened and they aren’t going to do anything to Barnabus on that much evidence.

Yeahhhhh Arthur! rally everybody, organize them! you’re the expert here, even if they don’t know that

I’m worried about Everard stepping out for a moment, even if he has the excuse of going to get Alia.

“Do you believe you are a decent man?” UH THAT’S OMINOUS.

Ok Everard exposition time I guess. OH is the black stone gone? Is this why he’s acting weird? …ewwww.

WAT. Okay she’s telekinetic I GUESS?

Okay maybe the stone isn’t gone, but that doesn’t explain why he’s acting like this. …it sounds like he gets something about of showing the stone to others and that makes me anxious that he’s planning to sacrifice them to it

DAMN EVERARD JUST DUMP THAT ON EVERYONE. …why is Barnabus smiling?

NOW I HAVE TO WAIT A MONTH TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY! I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH AT MYSTERIES TO FIGURE IT OUT NOW! Ahhhhhhh noooooooo. I love this episode. Glad to see Arthur doing some detecting again.

[sleepvines]

can you go into a whole tangent about rain world naming pretty please. :D

I wanna hear your thoughts!

SURE THING! (spoilers below) (also this isn't a proper essay so I get to be messy 👍)

So first of all. Rain world naming conventions seem to follow a somewhat consistent pattern, but the pattern varies.

Let's divide them up by types for iterators specifically: Type A names are those that involve a number, measurement, or count of objects. Type B names involve concepts and actions. Now we can list all the known iterators (since iterators started this tangent) in those categories.

Type A: Five Pebbles, Seven Red Suns, Sliver of Straw (Implied 1-count), Epoch of Clouds (implied time measurement)

Type B: Looks To The Moon, No Significant Harassment, Unparalleled Innocence, Chasing Wind, Pleading Intellect, Wandering Omen, Gazing Stars, Secluded Instinct

There's a few things we could gather from this, notably that "Type B" names are more prevalent, at least in this list. Sometimes these particular names are characteristic of their owners, such as Gazing Stars holding a fascination with ascension, while Secluded Instinct is optimistic and excited about the future. Which to me thematically opposes the whole mission statement of iterators, and thus it's a bit of a hidden (unusual, taboo) instinct to have hope. Other times these names seem ironic, as seen with Unparalleled Innocence's apparently mean spirited nature. Looks to the Moon feels like a happy accident with how fitting it is, since she's the Local Sector's "Big Sis Moon" and her peers look up to her. There's a possibility they named her Looks to the Moon because their city would be resting on top of her can which would have it face the moon.

To note, Moon and Wandering Omen are both older superstructures. "Type B" names might be tied to more antiquated models of iterators, but there's not much evidence to support it. Something my roommate @acewarden (incredible brainstorming & lore discussion pal) mentioned offhand is that Five Pebbles goes by Erratic Pulse as a communication alias, and that if the name seniority thing is true, he could be trying to seem older and more experienced. But again, that's conjecture.

"Type A" names are a bit of a mystery, but could be tied to a date, an event, a location... In particular I'm reminded of ancient Nahua naming conventions, which you can read about here. Keep in mind this article includes old excerpts/quotes from a missionary, so there is some dated and insensitive language, but it has examples of what I'm reminded of:

Names referring to particular time units/periods/seasons eg Maxihuitl (“Five Years”), Xopantzin (“Venerable Raining Season”)

Anyhow, the article supposes that these names not only marked the day a naming ceremony took place, but the potential fortune of the individual being named due to the date. I have to wonder if there was a similar reasoning for these "Type A" names. some Nahua names related to a day on a specific intersection of their calendar cycle. In Rain World, THE Cycle was an unavoidable and religiously significant aspect of the ancients lives, I don't see why they wouldn't also construct their naming scheme on a similar principle.

In fact I definitely see aesthetic influence from ancient Mexica art in how the ancients depict and dress themselves, and it's not unlikely the developers pulled from it for their inspiration. Take these for example:

Side note just for me, I have a sneaking suspicion the way dates are logged in Rain World is similar to some things I noticed while looking into the Mexica Calendar but maybe that's a reach. I won't dive into it here EDIT: I couldn't find anything satisfactory so I'm dropping that theory

Now we can take a look at the Echoes, which were once ancients. Since they were the ones to build iterators in the first place, their names would inform their super computer's names. Of course. (of course.)

Note the difference in these names, they are either in two distinct parts and/or reflect a "positional" intermediary term. Ancient's canonically had a very complex and hierarchical naming scheme, with many variations of honorifics and titles that were always formally addressed in their complete entirety, but for echoes we get the base names. (Also note I'll use a ; to break up the names so they're more convenient to list.)

Echoes: Nineteen Spades; Endless Reflections, Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves, Droplets upon Five Large Droplets, A Bell; Eighteen Amber Beads, Six Grains of Gravel; Mountains Abound, Two Sprouts; Twelve Brackets, Twelve Beads among Burning Skies, Distant Towers upon Cracked Earth, Rhinestones beneath Shattered Glass, Eight Spots on a Blind Eye

Note that we see vastly more "Type A" names! Additionally there's a prevalence of size or measurement related terms that emphasize some kind of grandiosity. Things like Abound, Large, Endless, Plentiful.... I believe that, while the literal counts (Five, Six, Eight, etc.) are indicators of something specific, the adjectives here sound like they serve a fortune bearing and/or self-aggrandizing purpose. lol.

One thing I do notice is that some families? groups? in the ancient society (as outlined by the pearls) have numbers or concepts tied to them. Such as the house of Eight or the house of Braids. One ancient is noted as being "of pure Braid Heritage" However these are not included in the base name, and are instead tacked on as a separate title, indicating the names themselves are not of familial origin.

Let's break some of these Echo names into their constituent parts. (With color)

Red being the measurement itself, orange being the object that conveys the measurement/units of measurement, purple being an intermediary term, green being a secondary location/object noun, blue being what I'll call the "grand element."

Six Grains of Gravel; Mountains Abound

Twelve Beads among Burning Skies

A Bell; Eighteen Amber Beads

Distant Towers upon Cracked Earth

Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves

You could argue "A Bell" is instead read "A Bell" but I DIGRESS!

Not every name has a measurement association, but they do consistently have some kind of object. I'm led to wonder if some names are earned or altered later in life. Maybe they have absolutely nothing to do with a calendar cycle and instead reflect the status, history, and hierarchy of the supposed individual. Come to think of it, that would make sense. Nineteen Spades; Endless Reflections recounts they had progeny, and well, what are children if not a reflection of an organism into the future? Twelve Beads among Burning Skies says that they were "an angry fool." I find Six Grains of Gravel; Mountains Abound evocative in the sense that, maybe as an individual they are "Gravel" but their family/accomplishments/legacy is so bountiful it's considered mountainous. But that's a stretch.

I would be remiss not to mention my favourite ancients. The following are Pearl excerpts of their full name and associated titles.

"In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids, Count of 8 living blocks, Counselor of 16, Grand Master of the Twelfth Pillar of Community, High Commander of opinion group Winged Opinions, of pure Braid heritage, voted Local Champion in the speaking tournament of 1511.090, Mother, Father and Spouse, Spiritual Explorer and honorary member of the Congregation of Balanced Ambiguity. Artist, Warrior, and Fashion Legend." ((Deep Magenta pearl, Shaded Citadel))

And my all time favourite:

"It is with Honor I, Eight Suns-Countless Leaves, of the House of Six Wagons, Count of no living blocks, Counselor of 2, Duke of 1, Humble Secretary of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, write this to You." ((The rest of this one is really funny, please read the Deep Pink farm arrays pearl if you have time.))

To come full circle, to me, iterator names sound like they're composed of only half of an ancient's name. Make of that what you will, I think it says something about the two way parent-child relationship between ancients and iterators. A more diminutive/simplified name for their creations? Likely. A shortened name for a respected figure and venerated grounds? Also likely. Shrugs.

All this to say that without access to more concrete concepts from the ancient's society, we're left with a lot of guesswork. Still super fun to pick apart, though!

[thisiswasabis]

'[. . .]My brain was cynical

Inside this massive hole

And then it swallowed me

I never wanted to sleep

My suit stayed the same

Can't remember my own name

Inside a timeless cage

I never wanted to sleep[. . .]'

Fish in a Birdcage, rule #21 - Momento Mori

Some Facts About Amnesio!

🌼The reason Amnesio likes blue so much are her hair she adores

🌼She thinks that anyother color dosen't fits her

🌼Through series Amnesio got three aliases:

°"Whisper" (which is an inside joke as "Amnesio is anything, literally anything, but quiet"),

°"Aggy" (another inside joke, 'cause her surname is "Christie")

°and her main, "Bluebird" (mutineers liked to call her "Blue" and decided to call her that as an alias, but it started to sound weird to them at some point, so they added "bird" to it. Why? Nobody knows, it just fits)

🌼 Amnesio's hair are blue, because this color reminds me of forgetting and memory loss

🌼She dosen't remember, where she's from, but she really hopes she's from England. She love this country, mostly for the aesthetic

🌼So far, Amnesio, of the entire conspiracy, has and uses the most weapons (knife, gun and gasoline bottles)

🌼She's almost as impulsive as Piro

🌼Her hissing sounds like the wild she-cat

🌼In early concepts, Ami spoussed to be the villain of the story

🌼In all her designs, including the early ones, she has short hair

Thaaaat's all you need to know about her for now! And with this post we start a new series with fun facts about the main cast! Keep your eyes open for the future, where Piro some special guy may appear!

Cheers and see ya' around!

[neotriobrainrot-reborn]

Thinking about an EE au where Trixie becomes the “Spiderman” of the Epithet Erased world, and I might have some ideas on what Antagonists Trixie would face

Calypso: mainly because of her ties with witchcraft and voodoo dolls. This would mean that by default Trixie would have to fight Kraven, but the main focus would be Calypso

Tombstone: Not only because of his Alias, but also because of him being a mob boss

Ghost Goblin: Couldn’t find much info on him other than him being a villain from the multiverse, so I’ll have the focus on the Goblin’s story, but with ghost powers without the multiverse part.

Symbiote: I might honestly combine the Symbiote!Feenie au with this since Symbiote plotlines typically don’t work alone. They usually work best with other plots together, which is oddly symbolic. I’ll probably have it to where Trixie has the symbiote first and then Phoenica

Those are the main big ones, here’s some other ones mainly because I like giving attention to obscure and uncommon Spiderman antagonists (Thank you “THE SPOT” for making me give the rarer Spiderman antagonists credit)

Slyde: Mainly because from what info I looked up about Slyde, he’s a goofy “ninja (adopted when he had a mid-life crisis) ” dude who uses a frictionless uniform to steal money. This dude would fit in perfectly with the Epithet Erased world due to how goofy he is (affectionate)

Dinosaur Man: Mostly because of the Apatosaurus joke lol

Molten Man: Mostly because he’d seem like a fun antagonist that turns good overtime

Mud-thing(?): Possible, but both Sandman and Hydroman would have to exist by default since Mud-thing is the two fused together

The Digger: Could definitely fit with Trixie’s vibes since the digger is the reanimated corpses of 13 men. And because all of the corpses were mafia men and it shares all of their memories, he has some ties with crime

Silencer: Might add him. I find his ability kind of cool and it reminds me of Molly, but I need to learn more about his character and backstory.

Probably gonna add more later, but it’s fun to think about this au!

[valorums]

DURING THE CLONE WARS, Shi’al’s status as a LEADING ACTIVIST in the fight for the ABOLITION OF SLAVERY caused a fair amount of problems for Dooku’s SEPARATIST COUNCIL. Shi’al, from the FIRST BATTLE OF GEONOSIS onwards, becomes well-acquainted with surviving assassination attempts by the skin of her teeth. Her status as Chancellor Valorum’s daughter and Chancellor Palpatine’s goddaughter renders death threats an ordinary part of her day to day life; thus, this development hardly fazed her at all. The quest to capture Shi’al Valorum was a galaxy-wide game of cat and mouse which lasted for several months.

   IN 20 BBY, Shi’al accompanied ANAKIN SKYWALKER, AHSOKA TANO, and OBI-WAN KENOBI on their mission to infiltrate the ZYGERRIAN SLAVE TRADING EMPIRE. Her vast knowledge of enslaved peoples and their culture proved tantamount to the overall success of the mission; however, when her true identity as Shi’al Valorum is exposed and her alias fails, she is given to a bounty hunter who takes her to Count Dooku’s CASTLE SERENNO.

AT FIRST, Dooku is the BENEVOLENT HOST. He dons the façade of the kindly old gentleman who wants nothing but the best for the galaxy at large, simultaneously pretending to befriend his captive and shake the enormous faith that Shi’al has in the republic. If her pattern of thought can be properly rewired, he reasons, then she will be a valuable ally. Shi’al finds herself quite taken by Dooku and his lofty promises to bring PEACE and ORDER. He is like me, and I myself am like him, she realizes, We are idealists clinging to hope in a cruel galaxy. For the briefest terrible moment, the scales of victory nearly tip in the favor of the Separatists.

THEN, SHE REMEMBERS the ideals that she holds close within her heart, and snaps out of what she will later equate to a trancelike state. In a fit of fiery, volcanic fury, Shi’al unleashes her vicious tongue upon Dooku, tearing into him with fervor for his HYPOCRISY. Ranting and raging, she condemns him as a TRAITOR who betrayed everything that he once held dear — a former guardian of the oppressed too selfish to see that he is now the oppressor.

DOOKU LOSES HIS PATIENCE with this petulant child, and DARTH TYRANUS emerges from hiding. Through extensive TORTURE, Tyranus’s own fiery temper is unleashed upon Shi’al as retribution for her insolence. Shi’al, amongst experiencing the deprivation of certain necessary elements for human survival, endures FORCE LIGHTNING multiple times a day without any overall purpose present in Tyranus’s mind except to make her suffer. Any hint of Dooku‘s faux kindness had long since vanished.

TWO WEEKS PASS in total between Shi’al’s capture by the Sith and rescue by the Jedi Order. During that time frame, her life hangs in the balance. Shi’al teeters on the boundary between the world of the dead and the world of the living, and is found near death when she is finally brought home. Once she is safe and sound on Coruscant, she is ordered to seek out the JEDI TEMPLE’S HEALERS. The Jedi, concerned for her well-being because of her prolonged exposure to the dark side of the force, confine her to the temple’s medbay for two more weeks. Shi’al begins to experience regular NIGHTMARES regarding her capture; although she hides it well, she is no longer the same utterly carefree girl that she once was.

She acquired NEW SCARS from this encounter, both MENTAL and PHYSICAL. Alongside reoccurring nightmares and intrusive memories that haunt her in her waking hours, Shi’al also escapes captivity with physical scars. The healers are horrified to discover a web of scars shaped like lightning strikes snaking around the entirety of her back, serving as an ETERNAL REMINDER of her time spent as Count Dooku’s hostage. At first, these scars are a prominent INSECURITY for Shi’al, to the point that she does not return to ballet or opera for a month after being given a clean bill of health out of fear that she will be judged by the general public. In the end, she ultimately comes to view the scars as BADGES OF PRIDE and TESTAMENTS to the trials that she endured, and eventually returns to the stage.

Ultimately, DARTH SIDIOUS WAS TO BLAME. The Sith Master arranged his own goddaughter’s kidnapping and torture in order to BREAK HER SPIRIT, and render her more PLIABLE TO HIS MANIPULATIONS. Dooku was all too glad to join this game of chess because of the opportunity to silence a vociferous opponent of his Separatist movement. In the end, they are all pawns in Sidious’s game.