#it was like he had been stripped of literally all purpose

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 78: Oliver's Awakening

Previous > Masterlist

tw: aftermath of mind control, discussion of abuse

October 1925

Oliver writhed on the ground, his chest as tight as a drum and tears squeezing from his eyes, as all the fear and pain and shame that had been suppressed the past few months flooded him.

He'd been content, so content to give up his own life to become the servant of a vampire, hardly even struggling as he was taken and confined and ensorcelled. He'd enjoyed the vile feedings, looking forward to the vampire drinking away his blood, pleased to slump over in the vampire's arms as his life was drained, satisfied with the twin scars on his neck. He'd cheerfully allowed the vampire to pass him around like a party favor to his lover, to curl up around him as he slept, to dress him up in ball gowns and take him to vampire dens to show off…

But truly, it wasn't the shame that hurt the most -- that was just the easiest of his emotions to understand. No, the worst of it was the profound sense of emptiness. It was if Alexander's music had filled something within him he hadn't known was empty. It had given him a purpose, even if it was to follow the selfish whims of a monster, and now he was devoid. Knowing intellectually that it had never been a real purpose, just enslavement, didn't ease the sting of his heart.

Vivian crouched down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Oliver, I know it's a lot to process. It might take days or weeks --"

"You don't know!" Oliver wrenched backwards to get away from her, furious. "You don't know what you just took. You can't!"

"I know it must hurt --"

"If you knew it would hurt like this, then why did you do it against my wishes?" Oliver demanded.

"Oliver!" Emily was standing nearby. "She was just trying to help. It's not fair to yell at her like that."

"It's not fair that I feel like this!"

"Leave him alone," said Vivian. "Let him scream at me if he wants. He's coming out of a much deeper enthrallment than you were in, Emily. It won't be easy."

"That's not true," she said indignantly. "I could barely talk, couldn't remember my past, wasn't even literate any more."

"Yes, and that's relatively easy for a vampire to do. What's been done to Oliver is far more precise and insidious, to keep him so intact on the surface while bending his desires and loyalties completely."

"Do you mind talking about me as though I'm not even here?" Oliver hated how angry he was, how he couldn't control the harshness of his voice. He was never angry, never so much as raised his voice at a difficult customer, not before he was captured. Even then, his anger had been weak, easily plucked out of his head by that damned Miss Lily. He felt sick to think of himself drowsing in her company, letting her rummage through his very mind, throw out anything she didn't like, and replacing his truth with a pretty painted facade.

"I'm sorry," said Vivian. "I know you're upset with me, but this is important. Can you still feel the connection with your former master?"

"No. It's been severed. I can't hear him anymore."

"That's good. With a vampire that powerful, it's likely that your connection is actually only weakened, not entirely destroyed. He may try to enter your head again, draw you under his sway."

Oliver nodded, ashamed that a part of him hoped he would, that Alexander's music would dull the pain. No, he would have to resist somehow. He couldn't go through all of this heartache for no reason, to go merrily skipping back into the arms of a vampire. Vivian's magic had stripped away the illusion, revealed the monster behind the handsome face.

"I'll try to resist," said Oliver shakily.

"Good, that's good. If you hear his voice, you need to tell me immediately, all right? I can help protect you, or wash out his influence again if we need to," she said. "It's my fault for not killing him when I had the chance. I was a coward. And now I'll have to plan to go after him again, before he hunts me down."

"Don't kill him!" Oliver's fervor surprised even him.

"Oliver, you'll never be safe until I do."

"I know that, but -- I don't want him to die. Maybe I should want him to die, maybe I'm still under his spell, but I can't bring myself to want him to die," he said, not understanding why he felt so strongly about this when he knew Alexander's true nature.

"He took you from your bookshop, remember?" said Emily. "The whole time we were in those cages -- at least, before Lily warped our minds -- that's all you could talk about, was your bookshop and how you had to return there. Don't you want to?"

His bookshop, and the tiny apartment above. His little safe haven, where he'd spent his entire life. The antique books locked behind the counter, the sagging shelves of the history section, the ratty armchair with the throw blankets that might still be waiting for him.

"I can't go back there," he said. "Alexander was one of my customers. He'd find me easily."

"That's why I have to kill him," said Vivian.

Mounting horror dawned on Oliver. "But even if you did kill him, it wouldn't do any good, because his sire would find out and hunt us both down. I'm sure of it."

"His sire? A vampire that powerful, and he's still beholden to his sire?"

"He's a terrifying vampire." The fear, which had been acute before, was now so much more sharp without Alexander's soothing influence. He could remember the feel of harsh fangs in his neck all too well, the panic of being unable to open his eyes. "Far more terrifying than Alexander could ever be. Alexander once told me that if we ever tried to escape him, he'd hunt us both down and make sport of it, and I believe him."

"It can't be…" Vivian muttered. "Tell me more about him, your former master's sire."

As much as Oliver didn't care to recall those memories, Vivian might actually be able to help. "I'll tell you whatever information I have. I'd be happy to see him die, and Alexander would, too. I don't know his real name, but they all call him the Maestro --"

"You've met him?" She gripped his shoulders like a madwoman. "You've actually met the Maestro?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You've heard of him?"

"He took my mother. He's the vampire I need to kill more than any other. You must tell me everything you know about him."

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said. "I can tell you everything I've learned about him, if you agree that you won't kill Alexander."

"Even if I were convinced you truly meant that and it wasn't just residual conditioning, I couldn't agree to that. Alexander is likely to come after me for taking you, and if he does, I need to be able to defend myself."

"I suppose that's true," said Oliver reluctantly. He didn't want to admit to himself that it would be ideal if Vivian were to kill the Maestro but spare Alexander, so that he would have the option of returning to the vampire without the threat of his sire hanging over their heads.

No, he must still be under the spell. He shouldn't return to Alexander under any circumstances, not if he wanted to keep a free thought in his head.

"You need to tell me," Vivian insisted. "Revenge on the Maestro is one of the main reasons I became a hunter in the first place. It wasn't just my mother who suffered. He's killed at least twenty hunters, and he's believed to have kidnapped a number of musicians and stage performers. He needs to be stopped."

"He does." Oliver sighed, feeling that tiny bit of leverage slip. "All right. I'll tell you what I know."

He tried to recall everything he could for Vivian's sake -- everything Lex had told him, and especially recounting his own experiences with the cruel vampire. Emily sat nearby, her eyes going wide with horror as Oliver described his blinding and the painful feeding. Vivian, on the other hand, was absorbing all of Oliver's words carefully.

"So when he controlled you -- was there any sort of induction he had to perform? Any conditions he had to meet?"

"I don't think so, or at least I don't remember any. Alexander didn't mention any either. He was able to puppet my body as easily as if I were a toy, and there didn't seem to be any way to resist it."

"Hm. That's going to be trouble," said Vivian, deep in thought. "And when he stopped you from opening your eyes again -- how long did it take for that enthrallment to wear off?"

"It didn't. The next day, Alexander took me to Miss -- to another vampire's home, one that specializes in hypnotizing humans, and she reversed the Maestro's command."

"A specialist in hypnotizing humans? Lily?"

"You know her too?"

"Yes, I'm aware of her."

"Are you going to kill her, too?"

"I really should, considering how many people's minds she's destroyed -- or are you going to defend her as well?"

"…No." Truthfully, he felt more conflicted about it than he should, given that Vivian was objectively correct. How many human minds had she stolen? How many lives had she cut short, selling innocent people off to vampires with nothing more than glee about her profits? She was the one who had twisted his mind, and all those feelings of comfort and warmth as he slept in her chair were nothing more than lies to keep him docile.

"So do have any idea where the Maestro lives?"

"No, I'm sorry. Those are the only two times I encountered him, and Alexander never mentioned where he lives, from what I can recall."

Vivian sighed. "It's a pity. But even so, you've given me far more information than I had yesterday, and I'm grateful for it."

"You know… both you and Alexander want the Maestro dead. Could you ever consider working together?" asked Oliver.

"Working with a vampire?"

"Only this one specific time, only to kill an even worse vampire!"

"I can't do that," said Vivian. "Even if we do have the same goal. Fighting a vampire as formidable as the Maestro would leave me vulnerable, and I can't trust that this Alexander wouldn't simply enthrall me afterwards. In fact, he'd be stupid not to, lest I kill him."

Oliver wanted to protest that Alexander wouldn't do that… except that Alexander might actually do that. After all, he had no qualms at all about buying a human at auction, even a human he previously knew as an equal. Why would he hesitate to enthrall a hunter?

"Come on," said Vivian, helping him off the floor. "We can talk more about this later. You've been through a lot tonight, and need more time to shake off the spell you've been under. We have a room that you can use, but I'm going to have to lock you in, and keep you under surveillance for now, at least until we're sure that your vampire isn't going to try and push himself into your head again."

"Fine," he said, accepting that Vivian didn't trust him. He didn't even trust himself. "Why can he still do that, if you've undone the enthrallment?"

"There's a psychic connection established when a vampire drinks your blood. It's not quite the same thing as enthrallment, and it can be very strong. It fades in days or weeks, but until then, you'll still be vulnerable to the vampire's influence."

"I see." He wondered if that applied to any vampire which had fed from him. If it did, that meant -- "But the Maestro, he…"

"Yes," she said grimly. "Has he ever entered your mind before, when he's not there in person?"

"I don't think so. I hope not."

"I hope not either. I'm not prepared to fight him just yet. If you sense anything, you need to tell me right away."

"Yes, of course."

Vivian led Oliver out of the attic and into a room little bigger than a closet, with a cot and a small chest of drawers. "You should get some rest," she said, herding Oliver inside. "You'll feel better once you have. Is there anything you need?"

"A glass of water, please?" asked Oliver, sitting on the edge of the cot. "And if you have any interesting books…"

"Certainly. I'll see what I can do."

Oliver waited patiently for Vivian to return with the water and a couple of old magazines. As soon as she left the room and he heard the lock click shut, he fell back onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't even be able to concentrate on reading, not with all the thoughts crowding his head.

He was free.

Wasn't he?

It was terribly hard to feel free when he was locked into a small room, the threat of his vampiric master and his sire still hanging over his head like an executioner's axe. The confinement was for his own safety, and he understood the reasons, but he wouldn't actually be free until both Alexander and the Maestro had ceased to walk the earth.

He was frustrated with himself. He shouldn't care so much about the well-being of a vampire who had literally purchased him at auction. And yet…

Now that the initial shock and fear had worn off, he was finding himself gripped by a deep and profound sadness. The cot he lay on was hard and cold, and he couldn't suppress his longing for his bed at home -- no, Alexander's bed. It wasn't ever his. He'd been hypnotized to share it, to cuddle up with a monster.

He'd been hypnotized into affection.

And it was really the only affection he'd had since he was a child, wasn't it? He'd lived such a solitary and quiet life, spending almost every night alone in his small apartment with books for company. Even the simple pleasure of curling up to read next to someone else had been foreign to him until he came into Alexander's possession.

And it had all been a fabrication meant to keep him compliant, hadn't it? He shouldn't miss it. He should be glad to be rid of it.

But the thought of returning to his solitary life, of never experiencing actual tenderness, was crushing him inside. He'd been starving for so many years, but it had been bearable when he didn't know what he was missing. Now that he knew that his choice was between actual loneliness and false companionship, he could only be ashamed at the parts of himself which preferred the lie.

No, he had to press on somehow. He couldn't return himself to a monster, no matter how charming. He should be happy to be freed. He could have his own life back. He could sleep during the night and wake during the day, and walk in the sunshine, and choose to go wherever he pleased.

He could take what little money he had stashed in his bookshop and take a train out of town, or a boat overseas, see the new places that he dreamed about but never got around to visiting. He could start his life over, do something else with it. Live a fuller life in the here and now rather than wait in his lonely little bookshop, wait for something to happen to him. Something had happened to him, and it should have taught him a lesson about choosing what he wants before it's chosen for him.

It was exhilarating. But…

For all his newly gained freedom, he still had no idea what he actually wanted. The desire for fangs in his neck was fake, but at least it was a clear desire. What did he want before, apart from books and safety? And who was he now, now that he knew the dangerous world of the supernatural lurked just behind every streetlamp, just waiting to pull him into it?

Previous > Masterlist

Next week: Oliver is not as free as he might have hoped.

I'll also have a Christmas-adjacent self-indulgent vampire story up tomorrow, so please keep an eye out! And vote in the holiday edition of Sedation Vending Machine!

Thanks for reading this story another year, and happy holidays!

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[swiftcast-selene]

30: Dawn

he'd stayed up all night for this. seeing the sun - the proper sun - crest the horizon again... it had all been worth it.

[cvnt4him]

Hold on ..... Bc katsu fucking you in izus bed?!!

It wasn't on purpose.....initially. you n katsuki had a couple of drinks together in the yuei college dorm house, eventually one thing led to another and you found yourself fondling each other's body through sloppy spit filled kisses and sweaty movements trying your hardest to get each others clothes off. Within an instant of stripping you of your close he turned you around and pushed your face into the pillows. He fucked you roughly from behind, not much prep due to him being extremely horny. The gutteral groans he let out the second his cock entered your walls were perfect. You could tell which each thrust he was losing more of his composure, his control. This big tough act he out of was falling. Soon the groans turned into stifled moans and small carefully muffled mewls. his hips piston into the back of your ass with such heavy force. He felt the edge coming quicker than expected, katsuki hated when he got like this he could never hold back. He lifted his foot onto the bed and thrusted into you with so much force. The wind was literally knocked out of your lungs, you were gasping but it's as if the air left as soon as it came in. Katsuki had a hand placed on your lower back slightly on your ass while the other held your head down with a terrible grip, your head was beginning to hurt but how could you begin to care when you had a soon to be pro heros cock inside of you?! Katsukis motions were getting sloppy, his thighs flexing and slightly quivering as he chanted in his mind not to cum just yet, his forehead was sweaty and the hot breaths you both let out were moistening the air. Katsuki soon began to speed his thrusts up once again, making the entire bed shake. The faster he moved the rougher his thrusts got, the back of your thighs and ass were sure to be red, not to mention the fact he'd been gripping your ass cheek terribly hard.

“ fu- fuck...”

His small words were breathy yet strangled, you could hear the way he was holding back. His thick and veiny hand brang a harsh slap onto the flesh of your ass, not just one however. Soon it was two, then three, then four and so much more. He couldn't stop, the slight jiggle of your ass when he hit it triggered something in him. He had his eyes squeezed shut when you two first started in hopes of not cumming, but when he seen your ass bouncing back against him without his help, the way you were just ass needy for him as he was you... Fuck how could he not cum inside?

You two cleaned yourselves up, slightly sobering up after the liquids you two ended up losing. He sniffled before standing and taking notice of his surroundings. His slightly blurry eyes blinking away the tears that wettened his eyes. Katsukis eyes widened before he realized...... That was dekus room..... He looked around at every little detail of the room before his eyes landed on a limited edition super rare or wtv all might card that was preserved in a card slip thing to keep it clean n unbent n shit. It looked u touched and so beautiful, identical to the same one katsuki had....

Katsuki looked down at you and how your legs were slightly shaking, you were sitting on dekus bed cleaning the sticky messing between your thighs with some random blue shirt. You threw it on his bed before standing and leaving without a word. Katsuki gulped and walked out behind you. Hopefully the dimwit wouldn't notice......

Oh but did he. Three days after the party izuku finally decided to go back to his dorm instead of staying at his girlfriends, he mostly just went for some more clothes to take back to ochakos but whatever. He walked into a cold but not so empty room grabbing what he needed and heading towards the door before he realized.....the display he had up over his bed was all messy, the allmight bobble head's were slightly out of place and his other nicnacs were knocked over aswell, somewhat out of place. He hummed of disapproval before heading towards his bed to fix it. Once fixed he looked at his bed that was rather messy aswell...he knew he didn't leave it like that. So, who did? He looked at the crinkled all might shirt that he normally wears to bed and smiled. That was the shirt he'd wanted to wear. His face contorted in a confused way at the feeling of the fabric, it was rather weird. It wasn't as soft as it usually is once washed. He hadn't worn the shirt in a while though, how could it be dirty? He gave the shirt a quick smell before throwing it out of his hands and shivering. It smelled of a familiar smell....for the most part, bodily fluids.

Explaining this story to a couple of the guys he shared classes with they all laughed at the poor green haired boy who regretted not just staying in his room the night of the party. Katsuki however was trying his hardest not to laugh through the small tinge of guilt he felt. It wasn't HIS fault, maybe izuku shouldn't have left his dorm door u locked.

[gossippool]

GOD OKAY SO i skimmed through the script specifically to look for discrepancies in the character names because i had an inkling they would do something like that and i found exactly what i wanted. i formally present my findings:

so for wade the distinction is pretty clear cut; when the suit and mask are on, he's referred to as deadpool. when he's out of the suit, or even just when his mask is off, he's wade.

pretty simple even though it IS still interesting--he's literally masking when he's in the suit; he adopts a persona that comes off with the mask. but here's the fun part! LOGAN doesn't wear a mask throughout most of the movie, and yet he is referred to as the wolverine sometimes and logan in others.

firstly, take the bar scene:

he's introduced in the script as LOGAN, but the moment the bartender attacks him and wade questions if he of all people is going to let himself be spoken to this way, he becomes WOLVERINE. a defensive wall. and it switches right back to logan the moment he says "you don't want this"--back to the person he is who's lost everything, who doesn't want to fight anymore, instead of his x-man mantle.

same with the scene in the diner:

he's wolverine until he finds the rubbing alcohol and downs it. then he's logan until wade brings up his position as an x-man and the version of him who died, and then he switches back to being the wolverine.

and one part i find especially intriguing is the scene in logan's mindscape:

"cassandra and LOGAN stand in a gorgeous, ethereal place." "WOLVERINE falls to his knees."

i found it very curious that when he confesses what he did to laura, he's logan all the way through, but he's wolverine when talking to cassandra about the same thing, even though she did have an effect on him.

you could argue that he has his walls up because he's still wary of her, or that it's ironically even harder for him to talk about the past when he's in his own mind, or that he was aware of what was happening outside the whole time and part of him had been playing into it on purpose even through it all. i think all of them make sense in their own way.

there are a few more instances of this, but tldr i just think it's so so fucking cool that they play with his two different identities in the dialogue names to show when his walls are up. it's a fantastic visual representation of which side of him he shows at what time, and it's just great direction too for the actors reading the script.

he's wolverine throughout the entire honda odyssey fight scene and even in the hideout, or when he's reminded of who he thinks he's supposed to be and, consequently, of his failures. he's logan when he tells laura about what he did. when he's stripped down to his most vulnerable, or when he can forget about being the wolverine for a while, when drinking helps him forget--

or when he's back home with wade and has found peace within himself.

[mayasikeu]

Phone sex with jake

Just imagining that it's your ovulation week and your hormones are going crazy to the point where you can’t think about anything else other than sex

It was at the end of your ovulation week when Jake had just arrived in LA for kcon and he facetimed you as soon as he got to his hotel. To your disadvantage Jake had been too busy to meet with you all week so you saw this as your only chance. Even though the time difference was big you told him you would stay up waiting for his call. You were desperate. “Hey baby I miss you so much, I wish you could be here with me”

“Me too, it’s so boring without you here”. The whole week just consisted of you fingering yourself imagining it was Jake’s hand. But your small dainty fingers could never compare to Jake’s. He could literally make you cum multiple times with just his fingers alone.

When he would finger you it would send you into another universe, like your mind would go completely numb. He would shower you with dirty praises that would make your head spin. Jake always wore rings when he fingered you because he knew how much you loved the feeling. The cold metal from the rings on his long fingers brushed against your clit as he aggressively pumped them in and out of you. Waves of pleasure spread throughout your body to the point where you wouldn’t be able to speak properly.

After a while of you and Jake just chatting, your mind couldn’t help but notice how you could see the shape of his cock through his grey sweatpants. You felt so guilty and pervy for noticing that while you both were just having an innocent conversation over the phone but you couldn’t help it. Jake would have been considered an idiot to not have noticed the way you kept looking down at his cock. He would shift in his seat manspreading as leaned back giving you a better view of his lower body.

“You look so sexy right now, why don’t you stand up and twirl for me” You purposely wore his favourite lingerie pyjama set because you knew how much it turned him on seeing you in it. The laced shorts barely covering your ass cheeks and your nipples being clearly visible since you had no bra. “You wore that for me didn’t you?”. You nodded in response. At this point you couldn’t care less about how pathetic you seemed. “Has my baby been that needy without me?” he cooed

“Yes, I need you so bad Jake” you begged him, your eyes filled with desperation and need. Jake loved seeing you like this.

“Now be a good girl and strip for me”. You immediately obeyed him and took off your pyjamas slowly, wanting to tease him. Jake bit his lip enjoying the view of you stripping as he adjusted in his seat again due to his growing boner. “Show me that pretty pussy baby”

You positioned the camera to your lower body giving him a perfect view of that area as you slowly took off your underwear. “Fuck baby” he moaned out as he began to rub his bulge.

“Play with it for me” he demanded, which again you immediately obeyed. You slowly began rubbing yourself in the room that was filled with sounds of your wetness and quiet moans. Jake pulled his pants down to reveal his black calvin klein boxers, the ones you loved. You could see how big his cock was and when he pulled it out the tip was overflowing with precum. He slowly started fisting his cock, moaning with each pump. “Fuck, i wish it was your pussy instead of my hand” he groaned as he leaned back again trying to get more comfortable.

“I’m gonna cum Jake” you whimpered as you began rocking your hips to the sight of him fisting his cock while he told you all the dirty things he’s going to do to you when he gets home. “You can’t cum yet princess” he wanted to edge you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “You're gonna cum for me when I tell you to, understood?”

“Answer me”

“Yes” you could barely speak

“Good girl”

You and Jake were both panting as you both were getting closer and closer. “I’m gonna cum fuck” Jake said. “Cum for me now princess, you can do it” the pet name making you immediately cum without warning. Jake followed you as he came all over his hand, his strokes becoming slower.

[pluckyredhead]

What the heck is going on in Batman/Gotham War?

I know a lot of people in fandom are confused and/or upset about what's been going on in Gotham War - why is Bruce acting like this, what is Selina doing, why are the Batkids taking sides. So I figured I would fill you all in on what's been happening in Batman and Catwoman since Chip Zdarsky took over with Batman #125, because it has been BONKERS and I have been enjoying the hell out of it.

Below, the quickest summary I can manage while still being comprehensive:

[Content warning: mental illness, abuse, suicide (...ish), LOTS of violence.]

The first arc, "Failsafe," starts with Batman and Robin (Tim, in this case) in pursuit of the Penguin, who is on a killing spree. In the very first issue, Tim gets shot in the neck. Bruce has to take him to the hospital, but first he has to strip him out of his costume and put him in civilian clothes to preserve their secret identities, triggering memories of when he had to do the same to Jason's dead body. There is LITERALLY NO PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS EXCEPT WHUMP (Tim is back in action with a fucking BAND-AID on his neck very quickly), which is how I knew this was going to be good. Beat Tim up! Make Bruce cry about Jason! I want these men to suffer! (There is also SO much to be said about Tim's own Poor Mental Health Decisions throughout the entirety of Zdarsky's run so far, but that's for a separate meta post.)

Anyway. Bruce leaves Tim in the hospital and goes to confront Penguin, who turns out to be dying of mercury poisoning. He kills himself and makes it look like Batman did it, forcing Bruce to flee. (Penguin actually faked his death and is alive elsewhere under an alias, but that's not important right now.)

In the Batcave, a massive robot called Failsafe emerges. Failsafe attacks Bruce, who usually eats killer robots for breakfast, but he can't seem to get the upper hand on this one. Duke, Cass, Steph, and Dick show up to help, but Failsafe beats them all too, while Tim gets an injured Bruce away and to the Batcave.

In the Batcave, Bruce puts on a weird purple and red Batman costume and a new personality takes over: the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. Now, Zur has a very complicated history going back to 1958, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that when he was younger, Bruce decided it would be good to hang out in a sensory deprivation chamber until his mind created a secondary personality, Zur, who is essentially Batman without Bruce. Zur is pure efficiency who does not care about anything but the mission. He created Failsafe, for one purpose: to kill Bruce if Bruce ever crossed the line and killed someone. And right now, Failsafe believes that Bruce killed Penguin.

Failsafe nearly kills Tim, which Zur is okay with writing off as an expendable soldier's death, but this causes Bruce to take control of the body back because "Tim isn't my soldier...HE'S MY SON!" (Tim Nation, why are you not ALL OVER this story? It's catnip.)

Babs calls in the JLA (SuperBat fans, you will also want to read Bruce's adoring description of Clark when he shows up), but of course Failsafe has kryptonite, which it stabs Clark with. The League dumps Clark and Bruce into the JLA jet and distracts Failsafe while Tim flies Clark and Bruce to the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce tells Tim he's a good boy and jumps out of the jet and into the ocean so that Tim and Clark will be safe from Failsafe. He's rescued by Arthur, who takes him to Atlantis to heal. THIS HAS ALL ONLY BEEN FOUR ISSUES SO FAR.

Two weeks later, Bruce wakes up to discover that Failsafe has taken over Gotham. He teleports up to the JLA Watchtower on the moon to lure Failsafe there, then blows the Watchtower up, hoping to catch a ride on one of the Javelins. But Failsafe has already destroyed them, so Bruce RIDES A BOOSTER ROCKET BACK TO EARTH, OXYGEN MASK CLAPPED OVER HIS FACE. The whole thing has some powerful Scooty-Puff Jr energy.

The only tricky part is reentry, when Bruce starts to burn up - his costume is fireproof, of course, but his chin is exposed. SO HE TAKES OFF HIS LITTLE BAT-PANTIES AND PUTS THEM OVER HIS HEAD. I swear to god this happened in a real comic book and the entire "Bruce falls off the moon and survives" sequence is utterly delectable goofy nonsense and I truly cannot recall a time I've had more fun reading a comic book.

Anyway, Bruce lands directly outside of the Fortress, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and runs inside to find Clark and Tim. While Clark keeps Failsafe distracted, Bruce and Tim program nanobots to inject compassion into Failsafe. I SWEAR TO GOD. They zap him with the nanobots, but Failsafe pulls a high tech space gun out of the Fortress and shoots Bruce with it anyway, apparently disintegrating him. Tim falls to his knees in the snow, weeping. TIM NATION, WAKE UP, THIS RUN IS CANDY FOR YOU.

But of course Bruce isn't dead! That wasn't a killing gun, it was a "zap you into another dimension" gun!!! THAT was the compassion!

So Bruce finds himself in a dystopian alternate Gotham, and I'll be honest, I didn't love this arc ("The Bat-Man of Gotham") as much as I loved "Failsafe," but it has its moments. In this Gotham, Bruce Wayne is dead, so Regular Bruce is like "Oh boy, time to Batman this place up." Also he's plagued by hallucinations of a skeleton version of Jim Gordon who is still wearing a trench coat AND A MUSTACHE. Like I said, it has its moments.

This Gotham is controlled by Arkham, and anyone who is diagnosed as "crazy" is locked up. A new villain, Red Mask, is in charge, and Selina and a Venomed-up Harvey Dent work for him. Bruce teams up with an orphan kid (of course) named Jewel and goes after Red Mask, who turns out to be some guy named Darwin Halliday and ALSO...the Joker. Well, he's the Joker who hasn't been Jokerized yet. But one time he breathed in some chemicals that let him see into the main reality of the DCU (???) and glimpsed Regular Joker and now he wants to build an interdimensional machine to mentally connect with Regular Joker across universes which he assumes will make him insane, NATURALLY.

Bruce attacks Red Mask, who sics a Venomed-up Ghost Maker on him. Ghost Maker cuts off Bruce's right hand. Bruce cauterizes it with an electroshock machine and ties some spikes on it (SERIOUSLY) and goes after Red Mask again. Meanwhile Red Mask mentally connects with an alternate dimensional Joker...but instead of it driving Red Mask insane, he's what drives the Joker insane. Desperate to become the Joker somehow, anyhow, he jumps into the interdimensional portal, and Morally Dubious Alternate Universe Selina kicks Bruce in after him.

Meanwhile, Tim is in full "I KNOW I SAW HIM DIE BUT HE'S NOT DEAD" mode, which: bless. So he teams up with Jon Kent, which...gosh, what an astonishingly boring duo. I love Jon, I love Tim, they're perfectly nice and normal around each other, I'm falling asleep. Anyway Tim fights Toyman for a while and then makes a VERY stupid costume where the entire torso is a giant light-up R, because "I want him to see that Robin is coming to save him." GET A THERAPY, TIM.

Bruce finds himself first in the Michael Keaton Batman universe, then the Red Rain universe, BTAS, Batman Beyond (yes I know they're the same universe but I guess he goes there twice), Silver Age, Kingdom Come, Gotham by Gaslight, and more. Adam West gives him a utility belt. The Dark Knight Returns Bruce builds him a robot hand.

Finally Bruce and Red Mask reach the end of the multiverse, which is a Gotham asteroid floating in space, surrounded by giant Jokerized sharks. LUCKILY BRUCE HAS BAT-SHARK REPELLANT IN HIS ADAM WEST UTILITY BELT!!! Honestly this whole arc was worth it for that moment.

Bruce knocks Red Mask out, but now he's stuck. He has a device from Batman Beyond Bruce to get home, but it's only good for one person, and he can't leave Red Mask there to die. Of course, that's when Tim shows up in his stupid giant glowing R costume and they hug it out, thereby fulfilling but also compounding all of Tim's issues since 1989.

Anyway things are fine now, right? Sure, Bruce is hallucinating that his family is on fire, and the Zur personality is not going neatly back into the box where it's been all these years, and he still has a robot hand (Damian, hilariously, immediately announces that he wants one too), but he's FINE. He is a little bit mad at Selina, because she broke out of jail (she was in jail because she killed her fuckbuddy because he was trying to kill Bruce), and also because she didn't tell him Penguin was alive and that would have stopped Failsafe, and also because Other Selina kicked into another universe. Selina, very fairly, is like "Well I'm not responsible for Other Selinas and also maybe don't build robots to kill yourself with and not tell anyone about them???"

THEN we got Knight Terrors, the summer event in which a villain called Nightmare caused everyone to fall asleep and, uh, have nightmares. Bruce, specifically, had a nightmare that he met an eight-year-old version of himself that vomited up a man-sized bat with a gun for a head. I laughed SO HARD. Bruce also had his body borrowed by Deadman for the duration of the event, so while he endured the psychological toll of nightmares like everyone else, he also endured the physical toll of everything Deadman was doing PLUS the mental toll of being aware of what was happening in the waking world even though he couldn't control his body. As soon as the event was over, he lapsed into a coma so that his body could get some damn rest.

Okay. Now we're up to Gotham War.

(I know, I know. But for all of you who are like "How could Bruce do this???" about Gotham War...*points up* THAT'S HOW. HE IS NOT WELL.)

Bruce awakens from his coma and IMMEDIATELY decides to Fight A Crime even though Babs is like "Maybe don't?" But he can't find any crime, which is...weird. His kids confirm that Gotham's been super quiet since he's been out.

Selina hears that Bruce is awake and is like okay, time to pay the piper. She calls all of the Bats to a meeting and explains that she's the reason crime has been down. See, villains like Joker and Two-Face always have goons, right? But what if the goon supply dried up because the goons have better jobs? So Selina has trained All The Goons In Gotham to be...cat burglars. No violence, no stealing from anyone who can't afford it. More importantly, no helping Scarecrow or whoever commit mass murder.

All of the Batkids are like "Hmm...I feel uncertain about this, but it's working...I don't know what to think..." except for Jason, who thinks it's hilarious and is instantly Team Selina, and Damian, who is staunchly Team Bruce. Bruce, meanwhile, is like "No! NO! THIS IS CRIMES, AND CRIMES IS BAD!" and Selina's like "I mean, robbing from the rich is basically a victimless crime" and Bruce screams, I swear to god, "MY PARENTS WERE 'RICH'!" Inexplicable scare quotes and all. I laughed so hard.

Anyway this is the basis for Gotham War and it is endlessly hilarious to me because everyone in the Batfamily is supposed to be a genius and yet not one single character has pointed out that:

There are jobs the goons could be doing that AREN'T illegal. It's not just violent crime vs. nonviolent crime. There are in fact many other jobs! I am POSITIVE Gotham needs construction workers and hospital orderlies. (Yes, I know it's hard for people with records to get jobs. That isn't addressed.)

Being Batman is SUPER ILLEGAL.

They are all so stupid.

Selina's plan doesn't even work, because one of her thieves gets killed by a rich person defending their home, and Bruce is like "See? This is why crime is bad!" and like...pretty much snaps. He's particularly fixated on Jason, even (rhetorically) threatening to kill him, which is when the other kids jump into the fray on Jason's side, all except for Damian, who like I said is firmly Team Bruce. (This makes complete sense to me, Damian has been dealing with severe trauma and isolation pretty much nonstop since 2018 and he and Bruce have finally made a tenuous peace, so I can understand why he wouldn't want to lose that.)

Also, Vandal Savage buys Wayne Manor. It's so random and SO funny.

OKAY BATMAN #138. Bruce has kidnapped Jason and injected him with a variation on fear toxin which will be triggered whenever Jason's adrenaline spikes, the idea being that Jason is no longer capable of killing - but in practice, Jason is no longer capable of even getting up off the floor, he's so terrified. I want to be really, really clear here: Bruce is like 90% Zur here, and the only reason he goes this route and doesn't kill Jason is because the remaining 10% that's still Bruce loves Jason and is trying to help him. He's just incapable of good or humane help because Zur literally can't do feelings.

Dick knows something is up and is sneaking around Bruce's Secret Other House We've Never Heard Of to figure out what it is. Damian attacks him to protect Bruce. Tim attacks Damian so that Dick can do what he needs to do, and handcuffs Damian to a parking meter:

THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE!!! TIM GO TO THERAPY! DAMIAN GO TO THERAPY! EVERYONE GO TO THERAPY!!!!!

Dick figures out what Bruce did to Jason (it's on the computer, for...some reason?) and absolutely loses his shit on Bruce, beating the crap out of him, which tbh is the only thing that felt off to me in this run because frankly I don't think Dick likes Jason that much. BUT WHATEVER.

Tim pulls Dick off of Bruce. Bruce leaves them both tangled in a net and flees as the cops approach. Zur's like "Good, fuck 'em" in Bruce's head, because the cops will expose Dick, Tim, and Damian's secret identities and Bruce will be free of the dead weight of a family, but the little bit of Bruce still in there throws Dick a batarang so he can free them all in time.

Then Bruce leaves. Damian is devastated.

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS PAGE. Damian really thought he could have Bruce's love and loyalty if he turned on everyone else! Tim is going to be a therapy dog to a Wayne even if he has to settle for the one he doesn't like! That unresisting, blank hug made me SCREAM when I turned the page. Incredible. (Also the art fucking S L A P S, god bless you Jorge Jimenez.)

ALSO it turns out that Selina's second in command has been Vandal Savage's daughter Scandal Savage the whole time and they are turning Selina's cat burglar army into their own personal army WHOOPS. (This also feels very OOC for Scandal but at this point I trust Zdarsky with my life so let's see where things go.)

SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON IN GOTHAM WAR. TL;DR:

Bruce is unhinged because he nearly died like 19 times in a week and it unlocked the smaller, meaner purple Batman that lives inside him.

Selina is unaware that you can get money legally.

Tim is going to have a nervous breakdown if he can't fix someone, ANYONE.

Damian needs a hug but ideally from someone he actually likes this time.

Jason is so scared.

THE END.

[barbiesmuse]

BETTER VERSION ⋆౨ৎ˚˖ ࣪

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + reader

summary: in which you are constantly hoping for your empty shell of a husband to sweep you off your feet. but you find yourself dreaming about a better man.

tags: asshole!simon, dreams about sex, neglect, cheating but not really, simon refers to your pussy as “her.”

HEAD BARBIE'S ANNOUNCEMENTS: i think i'm back!! my dorm got broken into by a jackass frat boy so i've been buying new everything! do all men suck? everything has been so crazy lately i haven't been able to think straight! missed this dearly! thank you to the wonderful @ungodlybre for not only giving me this idea but letting me write it in my own special way! please check out her account she's amazing and has such a fun vibe! lots of love, natty. - ps. if this sounds weird it's because grammarly corrected literally everything. i am not proud of this, but i needed to get it out so i could finish my price fic!!

“But is it cheating if I love a better version of you?”

It was hard to figure out when Simon had stopped being the man you fell in love with. It wasn't a drastic change that happened unexpectedly. In fact, it was unnoticeable, how he stopped talking at dinner, how he never showered with you anymore, how he stopped getting you “just because” flowers. Yet the sex continued. It wasn't that he fell out of love with you, he'd be a fool if he had. It was the constant leaving that made him act in such ways. He felt as if he was not worthy of such a patient woman.

The past few nights, you had been dreaming of a man sweeping you off your feet and lighting a fire under you. A man who wouldn't use you strictly for sex then get deployed for six months. You knew Simon couldn't control when he had to go, but a small part of you wanted him to settle down. Maybe get an injury, just so you could have him to yourself for a few weeks, a month at most. You just missed Simon, not Ghost. Simon. Tonight was no different, you did the same ol' routine. Stumble up the stairs after having one too many glasses of wine, walk into your laundry room instead of your bedroom, and toss yourself onto the bed. It was pathetic, truly. You were a young sweet thing, it was a damn shame you settled for a many who treated you like a toy. It wasn't on purpose. He truly did love you, right? The sound of Simon's boots woke you from your slumber, the sound of him cursing himself under his breath made you giggle quietly. The sound of his voice comforting you, even though it was almost inaudible. As he walks through the door to your bedroom you smile sweetly, he couldn't help but smile right back. A sight for sore eyes. He didn't speak, no he wasn't worth it. He didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you in his eyes. You were a goddess of a woman, he was simply an empty shell of a man. He could tell you were expecting more than a smile, but until he took off your panties in the middle of the night that's all you'd be getting. You watched as he undressed, your eyes flashing with admiration. Not at Simon, at the thought of a better man. When he turned around you would see the man you'd seen in your dreams. He would press a gentle kiss to your temple, caress your cheek before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Instead, Simon stripped himself of all his clothes except for his red boxers and climbed into bed. There was a slight smell of musk, but you didn't mind. In fact, it was almost comforting. No words were spoken, but the two of you had a different way of communicating. His touch spoke for itself. Simon wasn't a man who had a way with words, but you understood him, and that was enough for him. He wraps his arm around your waist, your ass directly against his stomach. He pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder with a groan. He presses his forehead to your shoulder and you feel his soft lashes brush against your shoulder like a soft caress. You leaned your head against his shoulder, giving him access to mark your neck. He presses gentle kisses to your collarbone, trails up to your ear, and whispers softly.

“I know you've been dreaming about other men. I can't blame you, I haven't exactly been your prince charming.” He says, his teeth graze your earlobe. Your heart almost stops at his words, how could he have possibly known? You look up at him, shock painting a rather amusing picture on your pretty little face. His hands move from waist to fondle with your tits. A moan emerging from your plump lips, he smiles he could get used to that sound.

“Trust me sweet girl, I know i'm hurting you, I know I am. I'll make it better, okay? Just gotta trust me, love.” He says as his hands trail down to your lacy panties. He knows you wore them just for him, and he loves that. He loves how even though he treats you as merely a roommate, you still make sure you're all primped and pretty just for him and his cock. You can't help but nod, everything he's saying is true. He has been hurting you, and he knows it. Has he taken pleasure in it? Simon's hands trail down to your swollen clit, you can't help but buck your hips at the sudden touch. He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hot breath against your neck. He presses a kiss to your temple before sticking his fingers in your mouth, you whimper as he stuffs his large fingers in your mouth. “Suck, gotta get her ready for m' cock.” He says, his voice raspy. You do as your told, sucking his fingers coating them with your sweet spit. Just as you feel Simon slip a finger inside of your sweet pussy you're awoken by the sound of Simon barging into your shared room. You can't help but feel tears prick at your eyes as he looks you in the eye, no hint of emotion in them. It was all a dream? But it felt so real, his touch, his words, his presence. You tried to convince yourself it was real, yet you were at a loss for words. You look up at Simon once more, his cold eyes look you up and down before pushing his way into the bed. “M' sorry m' not the man you want me to be, but thank you for being the woman I need ya to be.” He says as he presses a kiss to the exact spot your dream man did, and a little part of you would like to think it was real. He was so close, yet so far away.

[oncasette]

elfsong tavern. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb!

jj + “I swear if we get caught then I’m actually going to kill you.” I feel like you’d eat this uppp 😋 also happy early birthday angel!!!! xxx

r's sleepover

You'd been put on a JJ ban. Well. More or less.

Your friends had had their fill of watching you and your boyfriend make out during what was supposed to be group hang outs and had effectively told you they would stop inviting the two of you if you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves. Thus, what you had deemed the JJ ban.

Despite his inability to touch you, he had kept his eyes locked on yours for the extent of the evening. You'd been forced to sit at opposite ends of the chateau's somewhat cramped living room with all of the other pogues shoved between you, but that hadn't stopped JJ's eyes from trailing each your movements. You'd caught him more than once. He had little shame.

Eventually, when your friends had begun to spread out to different areas and chat amongst themselves rather than with the group, JJ signaled for you to vacate the kitchen with a flick of his head toward the guest room. You managed to slip away from Sarah and Kie under the guise of a bathroom trip with little complaint.

"Thank God, baby, I've been going crazy all night," JJ groaned as he clicked the door shut quietly behind him, practically mauling you as he slants his mouth over yours. Giggling against his mouth, you loosely link your hands around his shoulders.

"How'd you get away?" you hum. Your nails scratch at the nape of his neck.

He shrugs between kisses. "Just left."

"Just left?" you scoff.

He nods, tilting his head to press further into your mouth. His hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers cold from the beer he'd been holding earlier.

"J, they're gonna know what we're up to if you just got up and wandered away," you laugh. With a purpose, at that.

"Nuh-uh."

"If they catch us in here, I swear I'm actually going to kill you," you huff, tone too amused to be confused with a literal threat. His nose nuzzles against your cheek in response, forcing a new set of giggles out of your throat.

"Nah, you love me too much to do that," he says.

"Sure about that?"

"Thousand percent, baby," he whispers, pecking a strip across your jaw. You don't think you care much about being caught, thinking back on it now.

[parasolyaa]

Mischa Bachinski is a completely wrong spelling of his name. Misha Bachynskyi is the correct form.

To put it simple, it just doesn’t make sense in Ukrainian language at all. Instead of the soft “sh” (ш) that is supposed to be in the name Misha (Міша), for some reason there is “sch” (щ), which not only is less appealing to the ear, but also the name Mischa (Міща) does not exist. Could it have been just made up on purpose? Theoretically yes, but I feel icky about foreigners making up a name that sounds so ridiculous and has no background whatsoever. Besides, it is pretty obvious that they were going for the name Міша, but messed up the transcript. The surname ending -ski is an outdated Russian-sounding version, -skyi is a much more accurate one for a Ukrainian surname. The Ukrainian letter "и" never translates as "i", only as "y".

Talias name was completely butchered too, more here (there's actually a wholeass rabbithole from there on). The name of the city where she comes from is spelled wrong (it's supposed to be Kyiv, not Kiev), and so is Misha's (it's Odesa, not Odessa), also it’s Chornobyl, not Chernobyl. Characters frequently say "the Ukraine", even though the name of the country is supposed to be said without the adjective. Basically, not a single Ukrainian name was spelled correctly, and many things about Ukraine also were completely messed up.

And these are not just wrong spellings! These are the remnants of Russian oppression, specifically in Soviet times, when all non-Russian names had to be transcripted from Russian, all non-Russian languages were stripped of their originality, forcefully made to sound more Russian, and advocating for the use of your language could get you deported or killed (and now the same thing is happening the occupied territories of Ukraine, Sakartvelo, Chechnya etc.). Using the correct version of Ukrainian names is at least a sign of respect and recognition.

I am not saying that back in 2008 when the musical was made the authors deliberately decided on using the Russian forms of city names and, well, people names. Back at the time the voices of people advocating for correct forms were not heard, and this didn’t seem like a big deal. But in the context of the modern world it is very important, specifically because there is a literal full-scale genocidal war in Ukraine right now. As a Ukrainian, the nuance of those names and spelling matters a lot to me, and it is the same way for other Ukrainian fans I’ve met. Some didn’t want to get into the musical specifically because of these issues, plus the fact that Misha is kind of a harmful stereotype for Slavic people in general, which is yet another topic to explore at some point in the future. And he is still the BEST representation we’ve got and I love him dearly.

I believe that using a correct form of his name is a battle worth fighting

[moonbaby26]

Title: Wine

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairings: Doflamingo x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Crocodile (implied), Doflamingo x Fem!Reader x Crocodile (implied)

Warnings: language, non con, full on cruel Doffy taking out his own insecurities on reader, warlords being pompous assholes, vaginal sex, sex as punishment

Synopsis: Inspired by Day 1 prompt of #Doffytober2024 “Wine”. You were one of the kitchen servants in the royal palace in Dressrosa. Unfortunately you were also alone, responsible for attending to the king’s needs during one of his late night meetings. Doflamingo is more stressed than usual due to who his current guest is, and you end up bearing the brunt of that aggression after a simple mistake.

A/N: I know Doffytober is more a fanart tag, but I can’t draw. Soooo…yeah 😅. I couldn’t call this a Doffy blog without contributing something! Just a quick oneshot.

Fic Masterlist

——————————

You were cursing to yourself. That damn brat Dellinger had slammed into you. And you knew it was on purpose. The wine you’d been balancing within perfectly poured glasses for the young master and his guest was now all down your front. The remains of the bottle along with the rest of it, now shattered and sparkling across the stone floor of the palace corridor as you still heard Dellinger’s deranged giggling fading into the distance.

There was no time to clean this up. So you turned straight back into the kitchen. You were alone in here this late at night. Thankfully at least. Because you’d just have to change quickly. More white uniforms were in the far cabinet.

But you set out new wine glasses first. That now broken bottle out in the hall had been the only year left of the tawny port the king preferred.

Why he even liked it you had no idea. It was far too sweet to your pallet, even as a dessert wine.

Yet you knew exactly which other varieties were still in the racks here, and there was no time to go all the way back down to the palace wine cellar to search further anyway. 

So you grabbed another bottle, this time your preferred choice to end the meal you knew had already been sent upstairs earlier for their business meeting.

With the new wine bottle and glasses set out, you then went to stripping. Your stained shirt was already off. Your soaked pants falling around your ankles next as you had just been stepping out of them when the kitchen door swung wide open.

You gasped, reflexively grabbing the metal serving tray that’d still been nearby. You held it in front of you as if it were a shield.

And if it had been literally anyone else, you likely would have still thrown that tray at them in the moments that came after. But as it was now, you were completely frozen in your surprise. And your fear.

“Young master...” You finally said in a voice that didn’t even sound like your own.

And Doflamingo had been scowling, bad posture and all as he’d first barged through that door. But you saw the way he’d straightened up. The way his scowl faltered in the briefest look of confusion as he took in the sight of you.

“Where the fuck are your clothes?” Came the immediate vulgarity you’d so often heard when he berated you and your fellow workers.

You knew you were nothing more than another insect in the strict social hierarchies he’d furthered during his short time as Dressrosa’s new king.

It felt like he was now scolding a misbehaving animal.

Your only option was to admit fault and submit immediately in hopes the punishment would remain only verbal. He’d listen to no excuses you knew. Especially any that concerned his own shithead crew.

“I spilled the wine, your highness. I was changing and was then going to pour more to deliver to you and your guest.” You were trying to keep your face muscles tight. Trying not to let your lip quiver for as painfully aware as you now were that the meager serving tray was not large enough to cover much of you.

And the air in this kitchen was cold as chill bumps were starting across your bare skin.

But you saw that blood vessel beginning to rise in the king’s forehead. His own lips pulled to the side to reveal more of those perfectly white teeth in his familiar sneer.

“First, you kept us waiting.” He growled out. “I summoned you over ten minutes ago, you little twat.”

And he was starting to walk again, starting to close the gap between the two of you with his long strides as your fingers gripped harder and harder against that tray.

“Second, you spilled the only bottle I had left of that year then? I already saw it in the corridor. So don’t you dare deny it. I should make you lick it off the goddamn floor!”

You felt a wave of nausea go through you. Panic is what it truly was as his large hand had moved so quickly. He’d grabbed that tray. Ripped it right from your arms as it was then thrown with a violent clatter against the far stone wall.

His grip had been hard enough to bend the tray, and the impact enough to chip the stone itself.

But you didn’t avert your eyes from him now. Even as you couldn’t tell exactly where his own glare was focused. 

Was it most on your terrified face as he leaned further in?

Or on your chest barely covered in a tattered old bra you should have thrown out weeks ago? And would have if you’d only had the money to indulge in newer clothes.

Or down to your thighs maybe? Pressed together as if they would hide anything else from him, with only the small strip of fabric that had also been washed and dried to nearly nothing over time. Frayed and distressed, now shielding the last of your decency.

The insanity of feeling this insufficient, humiliated and standing before the king in such poverty highlighting garments was not lost on you. 

But it fit further into his ideas of what you really were didn’t it?

You were just a mongrel to this devil.

Those soulless red lenses of his sunglasses seemed to remind you of this too. As you saw your own pitiable reflection in them while his sneer changed into a smile that was somehow even worse.

Because there was not a trace of mercy in any of it.

He was going to punish you now.

And it would be physical this time.

Doflamingo hissed like an animal even through his false smile.

And in that moment you thought only of a snake with its fangs already out. And the fear of having to watch it strike when nothing could be done to move your body away from him in time.

You screamed, a sound that was fully primal as well as his hands closed briefly like shackles around each of your arms and his body hit against yours.

“Louder.” You heard him grunt when your spine slammed down onto the counter behind you.

He wanted the whole castle to hear you. He wanted them to know. 

Your underwear was torn with a single pull from his hand next. He didn’t even have to use his string to cut it. The weak fabric just ripped as if it were paper in his grip.

“Young master! Please!” But you rather be hit. You rather be cut.

This was too far, even for him. You couldn’t…

“Please what?” The king only laughed right above you.

You could feel the intensity of his body heat. You could smell his rich cologne as he untied his bright colored pants so easily. 

He freed his hardening length without hesitation, not even a flicker of empathy in this man as your tears began and you still refused to look at anything but his face. 

He was smiling back at you too, as his hand fished in an inner pocket of that feather covered coat which remained over his broad shoulders like a cloak.

A little foil covered square came out of that pocket as he brought it to his grinning mouth and bit it quickly to tear it open.

Of course the luxury of a condom meant nothing to you in the horror of this moment.

Yet he spoke again while he lowered his hand to unroll that thin cover over what you now knew was fully ready between his legs.

“You know you don’t deserve this level of attention…do you, little mutt?”

The overwhelming arrogance was dripping from what really should have been a forked tongue by this point. 

Once the condom was on, his rough hands shoved your bra up, pushing it uselessly to your collarbones before he squeezed that soft flesh painfully while he positioned himself at your entrance.

“You’re not even that pretty either.” He added so purposefully too, just for that additional touch of cruelty before you felt the beginnings of that lower pressure.

And you didn’t care about these words, truthfully. He wanted to hurt you however he could now. It was a mental game just as much as it was a physical humiliation.

Your steady tears weren’t yet enough to satisfy him.

But you did gasp as that pressure spiked abruptly. 

He was big. Very big, as you squeezed your wet eyes shut and endured the first of his shameless moans while he pushed his way inside of you.

That and the disgusting sound of the suction your channel soon created around him, slicked at first only with whatever synthetic lubricant that condom had been precoated with.

He began to thrust faster as his hands stroked down your body though. He was feeling everything, touching everywhere despite all his heartless words.

If you really disgusted him so much, that was not shown in the way he couldn’t keep his hands off of you now.

But your eyes were still closed as you tried and failed to fully dissociate from each additional complicated feeling. 

It was only self preservation to attempt and relax, you knew that. You tried not to hate yourself as that first tremble went through your thigh either from how deep he was then moving rhythmically inside of you.

You weren’t resisting him in any way now. 

And he was getting wherever he’d wanted to be all on his own. You could hear his breathing change soon enough. You felt his hands grab onto your hips as he groaned again, that pace still increasing.

But even your fierce will to not look at what carnal crime was now being committed against you had its limits.

Because the added element of an all new male voice was finally enough to make you turn your head as your eyes reopened in a return of fear. 

“Well this is a lovely picture.” 

The words came across with all the warmth of a morgue as the new uninvited also strode their way into the kitchen.

Doflamingo snarled above you, seemingly caught off guard himself even as he did not pull his cock out of you. He actually bottomed out even deeper in response to the interruption. His short fingernails still well sharp enough to hurt as he held your hips against his own in something that nearly felt possessive instead.

Like a predator not wanting to share its current meal.

“Fuck off, reptile. I’ll be back upstairs in a minute.” Doflamingo growled to the other warlord.

“That’s the first true thing you’ve said tonight. Because it does only take you a minute, now doesn’t it?” Sir Crocodile scoffed, only walking closer as you felt him taking in the pathetic scene of your bared body currently pinned beneath your king’s.

Doflamingo sneered defensively again as that smell of cigar smoke encroached in tandem with the other man’s highly judgmental aura.

“I don’t have all night, you whore.” Crocodile’s voice darkened more then as he addressed Doflamingo. “I sail at dawn regardless. So if you want to finish this arms deal, then I suggest you get to compromising. Instead of riding the unwilling help.”

“This brat spilled our wine.” Doflamingo retorted, and for the first time it felt ridiculous to be reminded that this had been your great crime. So childish and nonsensical of a response, especially with him still fully sheathed inside of you like the monster he really was.

But you were only staring at Sir Crocodile by then. Because he was making eye contact with you while Doflamingo just complained.

Crocodile was looking at you as if you were actually a human in that moment.

“Good. Because your taste in drink is shit. I got tired of waiting and came down here to pick my own anyway.” Crocodile responded in irritation regardless, then noticing the other bottles still in the nearby wine racks.

“Fuck you.” Doflamingo spat, beginning to move his hips against you again only when the other had turned back away. But the Heavenly Demon’s wary attention clearly remained on the other pirate even as his cock continued to pound into you.

“Keep wishing.” Crocodile’s true disrespect of the other was palpable too, while his hand grabbed one wine bottle after another by the neck, turning them to read the labels.

And the way this retort clearly got beneath the king’s skin was of no help to you of course. Doflamingo only thrusted more erratically in his growing frustration, hurting you more.

His aroused panting had stopped too. His self-pleasure within you had been interrupted with the threat of the other’s presence and he was now almost embarrassingly struggling to recapture that high.

And Crocodile noticed, glancing back over then when you made another noise of pain at the king’s roughest thrusts. “Are you actually having sex or just humping her with all the skill of an unneutered dog?”

You winced as Doflamingo’s hands somehow gripped you even harder at this insult and his voice loudly erupted.

“Just fucking go back to my office already! Let me finish what I started!”

You’d never heard the Young Master sound this flustered.

But in the meantime, Crocodile’s continued perusal of the remaining wine bottles had led him back to the one you’d set out just before Doflamingo’s attack. 

Still being brutally fucked, you were now helplessly watching as Crocodile set his cigar down. He checked the label on that bottle too before deciding to pour himself a tasting portion.

He sipped it, then making abrupt eye contact with you again. He spoke to you too, with all the casualness as if you’d just been standing here alone together.

As if Doflamingo wasn’t still balls deep between your legs.

As if the other pirate wasn’t even here with you and Crocodile at all right now.

“Is this the wine you were trying to bring us instead, Miss?” Crocodile asked, swirling the glass a bit before taking even a second taste.

And why you did it, you didn’t know. Even a nobody like you could recognize the freshly lit fuse of Doflamingo’s flaring temper as his body heat seemed to increase at these words.

“Yes, Sir Crocodile.” You answered so quietly.

Just before the king’s hand clutched around your throat to silence you and he yelled again.

“Go. Upstairs!” His orders which usually held the weight of a near god in this country, seemed to roll harmlessly off the other however.

Crocodile only filled that glass completely now with the wine you had chosen. He put his cigar back in his mouth before picking the glass off the counter to carry it with him.

He gave the two of you a parting look of only mild interest this time.

“Leave that one alive when you’re done then. I need better kitchen staff anyway. We can make a trade of some sort.”

And there was silence for a painful amount of seconds, before Doflamingo did release your throat abruptly. His smile had vanished. 

“You’re serious.” The king stated with a foreign air of incredulousness.

“You have a poor eye for talent.” Crocodile huffed, refusing to further explain himself as he did exit the room as unceremoniously as he’d come. 

And Doflamingo just stood there for a while, like his brain was trying to catch up.

He then looked back down at you. You who was still keeping his cock warm for him as he frowned.

“He actually likes you. You lucky little shit.” 

Yet his voice was different then. Because for the first time it did feel like he was talking to you instead of at you.

To your further shock his long fingers now moved over your clit as he began to rub it as well.

“But this just made you have a value. So you better remember who you really work for if I send you home with him…”

You couldn’t stop your abdomen from tightening then as Doflamingo rubbed that little bundle of nerves so purposefully now.

And it was a different kind of smile this time as he watched your reaction beneath him.

“The next time I’m in Alabasta, I’ll expect you to butter him up for me too. You can be the appetizer for that gator. But remember, I’m the entrée.” 

One that apparently paired well with your particular wine choice which Crocodile now favored as Doflamingo’s strings grabbed the whole bottle instead.

He took a crass guzzle from it after pulling it into his hand, rocking into you as deep as he possibly could again. 

His odd expression seemed to say he didn’t think it was half bad either.

Either that or he was finally starting to enjoy your body again without the distraction of the other warlord in the room.

“You aren’t off the hook with me either though. I’ll want my taste too the next time I see you.” He grinned, starting to pant again then as his fingers ran over your mouth. 

He leaned down over you more, body heat further mingling with an added intimacy that made your insides churn even as your orgasm finally threatened to overtake you.

Doflamingo’s voice whispered as he pushed his fingertips past your lips next, bidding you to suck them. “Maybe then we’ll just start with three to begin with. A cute little mutt, and her two warlords. But I’ll let you choose the wine for each round that night.”

You could see the way his mask was finally faltering now, his own lips parting while he watched you suck him subserviently and his fingers slipped in deeper.

“Is that a deal…my little cur?”

He actually shuddered once you nodded, with your tear stained cheeks and all as your channel clenched reflexively around him below your waists.

And that squeezing of your body around his did finish him off at last. His body still trembling as he rode that orgasm all the way through and came within the condom.

His larger frame was so heavy and uncomfortable when he draped briefly over you in the aftermath before pulling out. But his voice was nearly as soft as his spent cock then.

 “Good girl…such a good girl.” Came that rare praise only at the very end. “Behave in Alabasta, and I’ll see you soon.”

And the devil smiled at you one more time.

“Keep his bed warm for me.”

————————

End. Thanks for reading!

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack 141 - Werewolf!Price Headcanons

Tags: monster au, sfw, werewolf!price, mentions of gore and body horror, loose a/b/o dynamics, possessiveness, scent marking, fluff, werewolf lore sprinkled with pack 141 interactions

-A born lycan. The shift was as natural as breathing. And he quickly showed the temperment of an alpha.

-Shifts to the outsider can appear gruesome. As the wolf quite literally emerges from within, human flesh falling away like a gristly chrysalis to reveal the beast beneath. Traditionally, this shed flesh would be devoured, though it isn't commonly practiced today. The flesh disintegrates quite quickly once shed.

-This being said Price can shift in degrees, often enhancing his own claws or teeth for defensive purposes rather than shift completely. 

-No, the clothes do not magically pop back on once he's done. Shifting completely is inconvenient and typically a last resort. It's difficult to strip in the middle of a fire fight, let alone find his tac bag stark naked after it's all said and done.

-For born wolves, this shift is generally smooth and quick. For those bitten, it is this first shift that often leads to their death. Around 75% of those bitten do not have the bodily fortitude to withstand the change.

-as a born wolf, Price's enhanced senses are also perfectly integrated, and require no sensory aids for him to navigate his daily life unlike the majority of bitten wolves.

-born wolves have a tendency to remain in seclusion, within the safety and comfort of their pack. When a new alpha is born they typically either stay to take over leadership, or stake out a new territory to build their own pack.

-John was quickly ostracized when he showed little interest in either of those things. He seemed to be far more preoccupied with exploring both the world and his own strength. The military amongst the humans would do quite nicely.

-During his tours there would be fleeting encounters with other monsters, typically enemies. But a few comrades as well. Such as Nikolai, a bear shifter. The pair of lycans got along beautifully.

-Now, despite his former pack's opinions of him, John had never explicitly said he didn't want a pack, just not their version of a pack. No. John had a different idea in mind.

-Simon was the first. A strong and brutal human, who had shown an endearing gentleness in certain circumstances. Price had decided immediately that Simon would belong to him. He just needed some final paper work to build his pack task force. He had even settled on changing Simon himself, despite the risks. A bloody vampire had beaten him to it. Price was hardly angry that Simon's humanity was taken from him, just that Simon had to suffer in such a way to get there. At least Price had the pleasure of siring the newborn himself.

-Next had been Soap. A wiley thing with a blatant disregard for orders and big blue eyes that were far too pretty to be all human. Price couldn't decide if he should scruff or praise him for his cheek. But Soap had an excellent knack for mixing things that should absolutely not work, into something that would cave a warehouse in seconds. Along with a distinct aversion to touching certain metals with his bare hands. His peculiarities had earned him a nickname, and also given him away as a Fae. Price would have him too.

-Garrick followed not long after. Sharp and driven Gaz. Incredibly clever with a proud determination that blazed behind those warm brown eyes. Gaz's skills made his inner wolf purr in delight.  Another lovely thing for him to keep. Price was taken with him immediately, and had never felt more at ease than with the sergeant he had stolen in Piccadilly. 

-While he could tell from Kyle's scent that he was something Other. Price would only receive cryptic answers or riddles that only made the younger sergeant chuckle as Price failed to guess correctly. (Price would totally not make up excessively silly answers to see the sergeants pretty smile, oh no).

-It wouldn't be until they were stranded in an excessively hot desert that Gaz would reveal himself. Price had emerged from their tent to see Garrick, posted up like it was summer vacation, with a brilliant golden wing curled over his head to shade him from the sun. A long tufted tail flickering back and forth out of a small cut in his fatigues. Gaz had looked up from his book, golden slitted eyes peering over his aviators. Flashed him a toothy grin. “Wanna make another guess Cap?”

-Price has a vicious possessive streak, and he plays it incredibly carefully in the beginning of the task force. He watches his vocabulary when talking about the “team.” His pack. Perfect, strong and beautiful. All of them. Chosen carefully.  He was careful not to spook them at first, worried his possessive language would put them off.  But they are, for all intents and purposes, his.

-His possessiveness had manifested subtly at first. Scent marking them. Brushing shoulders or gentle touches as he passed them. He would even resort to smoking beside them if touching seemed out of the question. At least his smoke would soak into their clothes and hair.

-As they fell together it became less subtle. Price couldn't resist sinking his teeth into their flesh as they writhed beneath him. Suck bruises along whatever flesh he could get his mouth on. It was a pro and a con that his boys all healed so well. While his marks did not remain for long, it meant he could only mark them up sooner. 

-He loves that their scents all intermingle, really. But he can be stubbornly adamant that his scent is the most notable. Often catching Soap or Gaz to tug into his office, kissing the breath out of them, only to curtly send them back out, freshly scented and a bit dazed. It's a fair compromise considering Simon often hogs the sergeants to himself.

-Simon often seeks him out of his own volition. Coming to his office to sit quietly, work on his own reports and bask in Price's scent of spilled ink and warm honey. Or sneaking to his room in the night. Slipping off the mask to bury his nose against his throat. No biting. Just breathing. His scent a balm to the younger vampires frayed nerves. 

-Price takes an immense amount of pride in caring for his pack, and takes his job seriously in protecting and providing. Gets immensely distraught when one of his mates is hurting. Knowing no limits in showering them in comfort items and love. 

[biting-miguel-ohara]

T-Shirts - Wade Wilson x ftm!Reader

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. I really hope Wade’s personality is in-character. I tried to keep the silly goofy vibes he has along with the pet names, but it’s been a while since I saw a Deadpool movie other than DP&W

Fic is written for this request

CW: Pet names; Reader is called baby boy, baby, and handsome; mentions of stabbing and murder; light fluff; suggestive content; explicit sexual content; smut; this is really just sex with a little bit of buildup; Wade is implied to be physically bigger than Reader; mild implied possession kink; Wade wears lingerie; sloppy kisses; AFAB Reader but their parts are called dick and hole; Reader’s arousal is described as slick; Wade eats the Reader out; overstimulation; multiple orgasms; fingering; PIV sex; unprotected sex; crying during sex; rough sex; Reader bites Wade hard enough to bleed; Wade cums inside Reader; Wade uses his fingers to keep the cum inside; aftercare; implied round two; snuggling

1730 words

“Oh, baby boy!” Wade’s voice rings out as he kicks open the door to your shared apartment.

You look up, smiling. “Hi, Wade.”

He waltzes over to you and plops himself down next to you on the couch. “Whatcha watchin’?”

You gesture at the TV, but can tell he’s only asking to be nice. “Just some show. How was your day?”

“Oh,” he rests his head against your shoulder. “Full of stabbing and murder. The usual.”

You wait, sensing some sort of dramatic pause in his manner.

“And I got us a present!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What sort of present?”

You know to be a little cautious. Wade’s presents have ranged from a sweet set of guns to a teacup pig you had to return to its owner.

But this time, Wade’s glee seems oddly more enthusiastic than usual. “I bought us matching shirts.”

You laugh. “Matching shirts?”

He nods and leaps up from the couch. He rummages in his bag by the door before plopping back down next to you. “See?”

He holds up the first shirt. “I had to hunt all over town for the shop, but I finally found them today!”

You laugh. You can’t help yourself. It’s not mean laughter, but actual, genuine laughter. You’re touched, in a way.

“Oh, Wade.” You read the shirt aloud. “‘I love my trans boyfriend.’ That’s so sweet!”

“And look at yours!” He holds up the other shirt.

“‘I love my smoking hot boyfriend.’” You nod, grinning at the cheesy decal. “I’m gonna wear it to the next family meeting.”

Wade gasps and clutches his shirt to his chest. “I’ll never be able to focus. Oh, you’re a sneaky one.”

You laugh and reach out to lift up his mask. You kiss his scarred cheek. “How ‘bout I go try it on, hmm? You wear yours… and I’ll wear mine…”

He clearly doesn’t miss the suggestive tone of your voice as he hops right up. “Yup! Let’s do that! I’ll just—“

He practically sprints for the bedroom and you grin. You can hear him banging around against the dresser, probably looking for some cute lingerie or something. You let him do his thing in peace, curious about what he’s gonna come out wearing.

You strip to your boxers and put on the shirt. It hangs big on you, which makes you smirk.

You used to think he just couldn’t remember your size, but now you know better. He does it on purpose, as he likes to pretend it’s his clothes you’re wearing. Some roundabout possession kink or something.

You can’t blame him. Hell, you let him do it. It makes you feel wanted, in some odd way.

You think about that for a moment, as you move to sit on the couch again. You quickly reach the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter, as you wouldn’t be dating Wade without a few quirks of your own.

Like his cute little saying about matching crazy. You don’t know if you match his level of insane, but you definitely match his level of horny.

So when he comes out of the bedroom with a literal bang of the door, you ogle him in amazement. He’s wearing the shirt and the hottest pair of red panties you’ve ever seen. They’re lacy, they’re silky, and they’re practically nonexistent.

Your mouth waters immediately. “I wanna suck you off.”

Wade groans, his cock visibly twitching in the panties. “Baby boy, I want that more than anything. But I made a promise to myself and I intend to keep it.”

You rest your chin on the back of the couch. “What promise?”

He walks over to you, lifting your head and planting one of the sloppiest kisses you’ve ever had right on your lips. You kiss him back with equal fervor, licking into his mouth with glee.

He pulls back from the kiss with a gasp, gazing at you with such adoration it makes your face heat.

“I promised I’d worship you, baby.” He cups your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Worship that sweet dick of yours.”

You can feel yourself get wetter. Can feel the slick soaking through your boxers, making them stick to your legs. “Fuck, Wade.”

“That’s the plan, baby boy.” He grins at you. “I’m gonna eat you out so good you’re seeing stars, and then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk in the morning.”

“Promise?” You’re almost giddy with excitement. You and Wade fuck like rabbits almost every single day, and yet it still gets you excited every time.

“Promise. Now, come here. I wanna give that sweet mouth of yours some love.”

He practically topples over the couch as he leans in to kiss you. And you? You let yourself be squashed by him. Anything to keep his lips on yours and his hands roaming your body.

You moan into the kiss, arching your hips up against his. His hand snakes down to your boxers, stroking over the damp fabric.

“Aww, look at you,” he coos, “So wet for me. I bet you’re absolutely soaking.”

You whimper and press into his touch. His mouth lodges against yours again as his fingers dip below your waistband.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, as his scarred fingers meet the pool of slick between your legs. He circles your dick, making you gasp and squirm beneath him.

“Wade! Wade, oh my god! Yes, just like that!”

“Yeah?” He nudges a finger against your hole. “Like this?”

You moan. Bucking into his touch, clenching around nothing. “Please, Wade…!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulls his hand away. Bringing it up to his mouth to suck his fingers clean. He groans at the taste. “Fuck, baby. I love you so much right now. All needy and desperate and—“

He cuts himself off, sliding off the couch to kneel between your legs. He grips the damp fabric of your boxers, easily tearing them apart. You whimper, clenching at both the sight and at the breath of air against your dick.

“Oh, damn,” Wade breathes. He reaches out, tracing his fingertips over your slick skin. “Baby boy, I am going to feast on you.”

You grab a couch cushion, already preparing yourself. It always takes you by surprise, though. His first lick against you.

You squeeze the life out of the couch cushion, moaning and gasping as Wade laps at you. He sucks on your dick, groaning as you soak his chin with slick.

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue,” he mutters against you. “Then on my fingers. And then I’ll let you have my dick.”

You whimper. He smirks and goes back to eating you out.

You cum on his tongue twice. Right in a row, unable to help yourself.

When he slides his fingers into your dripping hole, you scream into the couch cushion. He pumps them inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot.

You cum seeing stars. Once, twice again,

Your body is twitchy, wracked with shudders when he finally pulls out his dick. He rubs it against you, coating it thoroughly in your slick and cum.

“You want this, baby?” He coos. “You want my thick cock?”

“Yes!” You bury your face in the couch cushion, mostly to hide the tears building in your eyes. It’s going to be too much. But you need it. You need him. More than anything else on the planet. “Please!”

Wade chuckles and notches the tip of his dick against your hole. “How badly do you want it?”

“So bad!” You rock forward against him, but he grips your hips.

“Oh, no,” he smirks. “Don’t be greedy. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?”

“Please!” You beg. “Please, Wade, just put it in!”

“Alright, alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

In one fluid movement, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself inside you all the way.

You sob at the stretch, cumming immediately. You’re so sensitive. So achy and needy. Your poor dick so delicious sore.

Wade groans. Loudly. “Fuuuuuck! Keep that up and I won’t be able to last!”

You both know it’s a lie, he can go as long as he wants. But your sex-dumbed brain can only think of one thing. More pleasure.

You fuck yourself on him, arching and rocking your hips against his. He’s so deep inside you, you’re sure you could feel a bump in your stomach if you tried. It’s too much, exhaustion creeping up your spine.

Your movements get sloppy, more like needy grinding than fucking. You’re really crying now, tears flowing freely down your face and staining the cushion in your arms.

“Aww,” Wade coos. “Look at you. I wish I had a camera to take a picture. You’re perfect like this, you know.”

You just moan weakly. Thankfully he seems to get the memo. He grips your hips tightly and begins to fuck you roughly. Harsh, desperate thrusts. Heavy panting and sloppy kisses.

You abandon your cushion in favor of gripping his face as you kiss him.

“Please, please, please,” you beg.

He gasps and groans, fucking harder into you. “Oh, yeah, baby. This is it. You ready for this, handsome?”

You bite his lower lip in response, hard enough to make him bleed.

With a low curse, Wade slams his hips against yours, cumming deep inside you. You moan, slumping back against the couch. You feel full, weak in all the best ways.

He slowly pulls out, stuffing your hole with his fingers to keep his cum from spilling out. “You alright, baby boy?”

You just whine in response. Your limbs feel like lead, your eyelids drooping.

“Yeah, me too.” Wade chuckles. He gently scoops you up, carrying you in his arms. He heads into the bathroom, turning on the tub.

“You did so good,” he coos, pulling off your shirt and setting you in the water. “Was that five or six orgasms?”

You rest your head against his chest, voice slurred and sleepy. “Five, I think…”

“Damn. We’ll get one more next time.” He presses a kiss to your head. “Now sit up for a moment. I wanna get in too.”

You do a lazy round two in the bathtub before passing out on the bed.

Your last thought, all warm and snuggled up with your boyfriend? You wouldn’t trade him for the world.

[flamingpudding]

Next part of Ghost Kid in Gotham

Previous Part: 1

Next Part: 3

Literal Ankle Biter

"Fuck!"

"Red Hood are you okay?

Jason let out a grunt as answer before a muttered "I am fucking fine." followed and he attempted to shut off the coms on his helmet again. This was the third time Oracle had decided to reactivate his coms and fuck did he not want to deal with his siblings in his ears right now.

"You little shit, why do you have such sharp teeth?!" So far no blood had been drawn by these sharp chompers. But he would probably have bite mark shaped bruises.

"Oracle put his video feed on the Batcomputer!" He heard one of his siblings over the coms, great that was the last thing he needed right now. Swiftly he turned off the coms again but he had no time to remove his helmet to chuck it into one of the dark corners of his apartment as sharp teeth lunged for his arm again.

He held up his gun and the sharp teeth chomped down around the barrel of his gun. He let out a fleeting chuckle as he spied a grimace on his small attacker's face. "Ha, not so fun chewing on metal is it now?"

"HOOD WHY THE FUCK IS THERE ARE CHILD CHEWING THE BARREL OF YOUR GUN?!"

Wow actual cursing from Dick that must really look bad to them.

"A CHILD IS DOING WHAT?!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. The magazine is empty and there is no bullet left in it." He yelled back into the coms as he dropped the gun, and with that the child, to the floor to finally take off his helmet to throw it into the kitchen. His siblings in the Bat Cave can have some fun staring at his title flooring there.

Meanwhile he stared down at the kid that was staring back at him from the floor, the gun no longer between their teeth. The kid was staring at him the same way it had earlier sitting on the ground like a cat ready to pounce on their prey.

When he had first entered his apartment he had noted that it was way colder than it should be. At first he had thought his heater might have broken but then two Lazarus Pit green orbs stared back at him from the darkness of his room. His first instinct was, of course, to pull out his gun and aim it.

Then his brain kicked in with reasoning and he started cursing Nightwing over the coms accusing him of attempting to prank him. Because he was the only one coming close enough to his apartment on today's patrol to pull off a prank on him and not trigger all the alarms that were set up.

He will never admit to the little scream that came through the coms before shutting it off as he flicked his lights on and found a literal kid wearing an oversized Nasa shirt perched on his living room table staring at him like he was the intruder to his own apartment.

Before he could even ask a question, that feral kid pounced with their mouth wide open, sharp teeth glinting in the bad lighting of his apartment and ready to chomp down on any of his limbs. He had gotten a hold of the kid a couple of times but every time the kid somehow managed to slip out of his hold. Before attempting to gnaw on his arm or leg again.

Of course his grunts had alerted his siblings every fucking time Oracle had to switch on his coms when he switched them off on fucking purpose. Seriously he did not need for his siblings to hear or see him struggling agains a fucking child of all things. In his defence the kid was fucking feral and obviously wanted to make him its new chewtoy.

"Okay kid, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." He lifted both his hands letting his palms face the kid who of all things started hissing at him. What kind of child fucking hisses like a cat?! A fucking kid that pounces and attacks like a cat apparently.

Well there went his throw blanket as he swiftly ripped it apart and made the kid bite on that instead of his arm and tie the ripped off strip around the kids head. Once the kid was properly gagged with no choking danger, he wrapped the rest of the blanket around the kid so it wouldn't start thinking about using his hands and feet to fight instead of only its teeth.

"Don't glare at me like that. I gave you a choice." The kid was glaring daggers at him and he could only smugly smile down at them before he frowned.

Now that he finally got a better look at his small attacker, he noticed some things. For one there was the glaring fact that the kid looked way too much like the demon brat when he had been younger like a carbon copy. His first thought was that the kid was a fucking clone but so far any clone they came across was at least same age as the demon brat, that feral kid didn't look any older than seven or eight.

Second thing he noticed was that the kids' eyes flickered between the Lazarus green and a sky blue, both colors were glowing though. So was this a meta kid? Or considering the clone theory, a failed experiment the bitch Talia had dropped in a Lazarus Pit?

Then there was the fact that the Pit in his mind was strangely quiet and not the least bit aggressive or angry by the feral kids presence, no in fact the pit felt the calmest it ever had in a long time, even a little protective if he interpreted part of the silence correctly.

Who the fuck was that kid?

The sound of snapping teeth ripped him out of his thoughts and he stared down at the kid again just in time to pull his leg away from shape chompers. Somehow that feral brat had wiggled his way over to his legs and had also chewed his way through the makeshift gag that lay discarded at the kids former placement. "The fuck is wrong with you little shit?!"

--------

By the time Jason rolled with his bike into the Bat Cave, his siblings had fallen into a state of absolute chaos arguing back and forth, the footage from his helmet still playing on a part of the screen while a screen shot from the time the kid used his gun as chewtoy was taken and zoomed in to get a close up of the kids face.

Not that it helped considering the image was tat bit blurry but had enough quality that his siblings could see the kids similarities to the demon brat. Which probably was the cause for them arguing back and forth if that kid was a clone or some sort of experiment considering the age boy appeared to be.

"Jason?! What happened to the child?!" Of course it had to be Dick that noticed him first.

"Dropped him off the Wayne tower, what do you think?" He snarked back as he lifted the buritoed child that was aggressively gnawing on a gag made from bat wire. He rolled with his eyes at his siblings' gasps. Look they didn't have to deal with the kids biting or attemtping to bite them when they drove a fucking motorcycle. The wire was reassurance, after the kid managed to chew through at least three ropes, and two cloth made gags. The boy had razors as teeth and Jason had not been in the mood to risk crashing on his way to the Cave, okay?!

"Damn he does look like Damien but in small size." Tim mentioned as he got a little closer, curiosity getting the best of him before turning to the teenager in question. "Think it's a clone?"

"<tt> of course it is. Most likely a failed one Mother didn't dispose of for some reasons." Dick arched an eyebrow as Jeason just studied the youngest among them. The way the demon brat had said that felt wrong and by the way Dick was looking at the brat, he wasn't the only one that noticed.

"The fuck you want me to do with that little shit?" He was getting tired of holding up the kid like the boy was some prize he caught. Well he did catch that little biter in a way anyway.

Tim let out a shriek and jumped back from Jason and the kid, a syringe in his hand with a little blood drawn from the boy. The older could only raise an eyebrow as the younger gave the biter a wary look and shuffled back to create more distance. The kid still bound by blanket burrito on the other hand had managed to chew through fucking bat wire and was snapping and hissing in Tims direction eyes brightly growing green.

"Carefully he bites."

"His eyes they…"

"Glow Lazarus green, yes."

Really did he need to state all the obvious things to his siblings.

"We should just get rid of that thing." Oh gee demon brats, solution to everything. Just get rid of it. Even if it was a clone, he was holding up a fucking kid here. He may kill but even he wouldn't step so low as to kill a fucking child just cause it would be convenient.

"Now, now let's just figure out if the kid is really a clone or maybe a Meta." Ever the peacemaker Dick tried as Jason and Damien glared at each other while Tim made his way to the Batcomputer to analyze the little bit of blood he had been able to withdraw before the kid started snapping at him. Suddenly the blanket in his grip felt lighter than it had before. Staring at the empty blanket burrito a curse escaped his lips alerting his other two siblings.

"Where did the child go?" Dick asked panicked but let out a yelp as something rushed past his feet deeper into the bat cave.

"You imbecile can't you even keep a child contained?"

"Shut the fuck up, the blanket burrito was secure enough to at least get here with that feral biter. I wanna see you try to not get fucking biten by the kid when driving a bike!"

"<tt>"

[tinkerbellaglowstone]

I am so SICK of people mischaracterizing Ted

I always see people defend Ellen or Gorrister or really any of them. (Please understand I, myself, also constantly defend Ellen) but never do I see Ted. I even see some people comparing him to Jimmy? That’s way too far. It’s always people bashing and writing him off as some asshole who didn’t gaf about anyone

That’s so so wrong.

Ted is literally driven to insanity. Can you imagine constantly being on edge? In a state of panic? Convinced the only people around you are out to get you? It’s gotta be exhausting. 109 years of physical and mental torture. He’s a paranoid and a schizophrenic. He talks about angels singing ‘Go Down Moses’ and bringing Ellen and I think Nimdok back. That did not happen. AM is filling his head with religious imagery to make Ted to see him as some all divine, all powerful God like being. And he is. And it works. Ted sees AM as a masculine deity. I’ve noticed in the book he says Gorrister hits Ellen while only she cries for Benny. While in the radio drama, they are all worried over Benny and Ted actually freaks out and tells them to get back, that it was too late. It’s like he believes they have no control whatsoever. ‘whatever AM gives we just have to take it’ or around the lines of that. 

He’s mental. He cannot help that. So of course you’re a jerk to everyone. I’m sure AM also fills his head with lies about the others as well. I mean why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t want them to work together and thrive, he wants them to break each other and suffer. 

In the radio drama as well, Ted and Ellen have a one on one. After a freak out from seeing whatever he thought he saw and running away for god knows how long (notice how he can’t keep time. I’m sure the others can’t as well but often he says maybe days, months, years) he’s scared and upset. Maybe they were just laughing out of confusion or fear or because it wasn’t them in his shoes but to him that is laughter enjoying his pain, the same way AM later laughs after stabbing him and expressing his hatred. He insults them all but I mean listen to what he says. Benny has been extremely altered. Gorrister has been stripped of personality, Nimdok is a mystery case of disappearances and Ellen sleeps with the others (which personally, and this is my belief, I think she only ever sleeps with Ted to keep his peace of mind. Plus we only hear this from Ted himself, and he’s already insecure saying Benny isn’t gay anymore and he’s got a huge wiener which is also false. I’ve seen some fan theories about this and I actually like them. And also Benny can’t consent to any of that and I’m sure Gorrister misses his wife, I’ve never played the video game sorry if I’m mistaken I just know Gorrister had a wife, But that’s just my interpretation) and overall Ted just seems like a huge dick. No wonder after all his paranoia would he think he’s got the good end of the deal. When in reality, he really really doesn’t. At least everyone understands their situation to an extant, minus Benny, Ted doesn’t. Ted is constantly walking on eggshells. Or he thinks he is. Then after it clicks and he breaks down. And again in the radio drama, in the rat (or was it bat) cave, he tells Benny ‘we don’t do that, we’re not animals, we’re human beings!’ He is desperately trying to hold onto his humanity (which, doesn’t work out clearly as he’s a slug) and somewhat a grip on reality. That he is still human even if this isn’t humane. He’s desperate. He’s alone even when surrounded by people. He’s constantly filled with thoughts and honestly I’d call it grooming (grooming: the practice of preparing or training someone for a particular purpose or activity.) from AM. In the video game AM tells Ted he’s his favorite. At the end of the day hes scared like all of them are. And he can’t keep himself together. He has lost himself completely. Broken down and reshaped. He mentions how AM has made his mind a chalkboard or something like that. He also suffers physically too. In the game, when he stands in his cage with the lazors CLEARLY only aiming for his eyes. He can’t even see that. He still stands there in agony when all he needs to do is duck down. He misses the bigger picture. Ted is so lost, so paranoid so delusional and mental he can barely see it himself. Is he a good guy? No. Is he a bad guy of the story? Absolutely not.

ALSOOO Jimmy killed everyone out of selfishness (yes every single death and event is all his fault I hate him I’m so glad he killed himself). Ted, who was finally given a clear head for once, saved them. It was him or Ellen and he chose to get her out of that hell scape. (Which I like to point how how he said he tried/wanted to bury them, meaning he had at least a small amount of time to kill himself. Which he couldn’t, also a fan theory I’ve seen.) Ted sacrificed himself to help everyone. The complete opposite of what Jimmy did. He is HAPPY he pissed AM off by killing them. Even if AM has won he still knows he has the upper hand. How in the hell in his situation can you think YOU have the advantage? In the radio drama as well, the way he says ‘He altered me’ (or along the lines) I saw a comment saying he sounds violated. Which he has been. I love Ted, I really do. I appreciate his character so much because he’s often so overlooked and just known as the unreliable narrator. He’s unreliable for a reason, not because he’s selfish and wants the story his way, but because that’s how he sees things. (also idk if it’s true it’s this pdf file I found talking about all of them and it talks abt Ted at 19 and like older women. I can’t remember what it says but like, 19? 19 is young, still a boy.)

Yes, I do acknowledge he is a huge dick to everyone. But he’s also in a bad terrible situation. And even if you hate him, I think he definitely makes up for it all at the very end. 

[spotlightlowlife]

Leave aces the hell alone

if you haven't realised, the title's a pun, there's a little jest but just a little

If this show wants to sex, ships and 'it's complicated' to be it's main focus to the point of drowning out the plot and stripping away the tiny nuisance it once had, OK, can't speak for myself but enough people seem to be enjoying things this way.

But leave the aces out of it.

Let's not pretend they're not vilified for existing, having a life and interests.

The "cockblocking" child whose rare screentime takes away from her daddies mlm proship, simply for daring to want her dad to follow through on their plans

and the 'ugly who nobody wants to fuck' (particularly trashy statement since he's ace and doesn't want to fuck neither) fat guy who runs a business but working for him (or just working) takes away from the other leading mlm ship. He's pretty much a banker too, we all hate them don't we?

Factor in that Stella and Striker 'wouldn't attend' pride parade so were excluded, dispite being highly relevant characters who we have seen a number of times (unlike Stella's bro and the red birdman yet to be introduced).

One comically called out all the sex a few times and the other is a victim of child marriage made to become a teenage mother yet managed a totally unheard of, social life.

Like Octavia and Mammon, both seem to have interests and some major purpose in the plot, dispite being side characters.

Like Mammon and Octavia, both get in the way of a leading mlm ship, dispite being side characters.

Like Octavia and Mammon, they have good reasons fo their interactions.

Yet alas, homophobia is implied for Stella and Striker, then ace is branded on Mammon and Octavia, the 'perfect explanation' for them to be a problem., only aces generally be minding their own business yet catch strays from those who feel judged by that one lack of common interest. Sex is used as a solution, a power and a major part of the personality within the helluverse so yes, it matters that these characters who have other things going on and get in the way of 'romance' have their own orientation, lack of or apparent dislike of put on blast.

I personally find the shipping very shallow and don't believe the LGBTQ rep is any good in this show, the best rep easily being Moxxie who was an ordinary someone dating another ordinary someone who hurt him, who happened to be another guy, no somehow rubbing shoulders with powerful but neutered or retconned immortal royalty and then becoming 'the one', just an ordinary shitty relationship between a well meaning person and a user that was a mistake in hindsight, now this latest relationship is (Millie's character is Moxxie's fangirl) just fine.

Aces should be easy to represent simply by letting them exist! Be their own personality without the need for someone else to fill in the other half slot, but no, bad representation from those who can't fathom the not caring for sex or sexual relationships has to worm it's way into something that should literally be nothing.

Dare a child whose orientation or lack of we don't even need to know, who seems reasonable want to see the stars with her dad, an interest he clearly instilled in her. The greedy entrepreneur acts a greedy entrepreneur, in other news bears shit in the woods. Both these pest third wheels share something in common? Not gonna to get it?

If only these picked on characters hadn't been used to represent already picked on asexuals, there would pretty much just be the bland female sexual representation to critique.

[winchesterszvonecek]

found myself thinking about what it would be like if rafael’s partner testified against him in court and he chose to punish them in bed so now i’m in desperate need of something like that… it doesn’t have to be a fully fleshed out one-shot, literally just one of those ten paragraph fics or even a headcanon… but please i’m literally begging 🥵🙏🏻

How Rafael Would Punish You in Bed After You Testified for The Defense 18+

Masterlist | Rafael Masterlist

In court, and back at the precinct, Rafael is amicable about it. He’s professional. He accepts that you had to do what you had to do for the sake of justice, but what angers him most is that you never told him. You went to defense yourself, without informing him beforehand and that pissed him off immensely. It had his jaw clenching more than seeing you on the stand for that dirtbag Buchanan, and throughout the entirety of the jury deliberations he’d been meticulously planning out how he was going to get back at you.

Rafael already knew how he was going to do it — the same way you did the very first time he went against you during a case: in bed. You’d tied him up, with his permission of course, and went to town driving him crazy and now, thanks to your own misfortune, it was his turn to get back at you. He already knew what drove you. You’d been dating for years now and he’d come to learn about every spot on your body that could have you writhing beneath him, and boy was he ever going to use it. He was going to use every trick in the book to have you begging for his cock, the very same way you’d once had him beg for your pussy. To have you so desperate for him to give you what he’d normally offer you so freely and willingly that you’d think twice before betraying him again.

The second Rafael got home he had you on the bed. Your body stripped of its clothes and your hands bound above your head with the tie he’d been wearing all day. He never normally tied you up but this time was different. This time he was punishing you, therefore there was no way in hell he was allowing you the pleasure of touching him, not matter how much he wanted to feel you.

Rafael starts off slow and with his hands first. His palms skating over every inch of your already shuddering body that lay so gloriously beneath him. He grips your thighs, pulling them apart as his fingertips dig deep into your flesh, sure to leave bruises by morning. Every motion gets him so dangerously close to your pussy that you could can feel the faint warmth of his knuckles brush over your clit. He does it on purpose. He wants to feel your hips move out of the desperate need for stimulation he brings you so easily, yet any time you grow close to feeling anything more than a ghostly touch he pulls away, relishing in the faint whimpers that leave your back throat.

Once he’s done with his hands he moves on to his mouth, peppering kisses down each and every dip and curve in your body. He works his way up, his teeth grazing over your hip bones and his hot tongue trailing over your stomach. He reaches your chest in seconds, swirling that adventurous tongue around your rock hard nipples as you arch your body desperately against him. He pushes you back down onto mattress the second he feels your hips brush over him, your pleading whispers giving him everything he wants as he starts to suck on your breast, his hand kneading the other and giving it just as much attention.

Rafael had never realised this before, but he easily got off on teasing you. On punishing you by repeatedly bringing you right to the edge of your orgasm then snatching it back again. Whether it be with his fingers or his tongue, the mere whimpers and cries you let out each time he started back up again have him aching for you. His cock throbbing and already dripping from the tip at the mere sight of your glistening pussy before him, his fingers sliding so effortlessly between your folds as he spread you wide, preparing you to take him in his entirety.

When he finally does… When he finally sinks his throbbing cock into your pussy at a pace so painstakingly slow you were both already seeing more stars than were in the universe. He’d fully planned on staying at that pace throughout most of it. Of experiencing the full sensation of the way you spread open so perfectly around him but the mere second in which he buried himself inside of you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

The slow, sensual punishment changes course so rapidly that you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips as Rafael starts pounding into you. And he’s not at all gentle. His eyes are glazed over like an animal and the way he grips your hips which each powerful thrust of thick, throbbing cock starts to hurt, but in no way do you care. The pleasure in which you feel in that moment is more than you ever thought you’d see and you can feel yourself about to come already.

When you finally do, it’s euphoric. Your head grows fuzzy. All you can see is white and the scorching hotness that runs through your veins is more than you’d ever felt before in your life, and Rafael basks in it. Every moan, whimper and cry you let loose is like music to his ears and in that moment…As his own release hits him like a truck, he comes to realise that perhaps what he’d once seen as betrayal, was nothing more than a blessing in disguise.

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