#its the only time i get to wear my utility belt and feel cool

[liamthemailman]

man i miss being on set :(((

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[sharpth1ng]

Making a fem ghost face costume with the added bonus of fem Billy underneath. And I realized that the only way to tell that it's supposed to be a genderbent cosplay is lady curves.... I have seen pictures where it's the mask and a tight dress but I seriously don't think Billy would wear that.

My options are to get out my sewing machine and make alterations or get a cheap black corset. I'm going to find a way to make some kind of utility belt when I have time. I need help because I don't know what to do 😭

Here's what I have so far the phone isn't done, but oh well.

Tbh I agree, I don't feel like a genderbent Billy would wear a drastically different ghostface costume. I do think the utility belt is a cool idea though. tbh if I was doing this I think I would put most of the fem coding in the Billy outfit under the robe so its like a reveal? Like, denim skirt instead of jeans and a bloody white shirt or something?

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 6

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin was tired of being scolded and threatened. He’d been able to brush it off at first, but in the end it hadn’t taken all that long for him to lose the willpower to be insubordinate.

It wasn’t as if he was...broken or whatever. He wouldn’t describe himself as too afraid to speak altogether. He just...well he just needed a break. Trying to outmatch a giant was exhausting. Plus, Gavin was beginning to wonder whether it was really worth it. Sure it gave him some kind of sense of personal pride and satisfaction, but surely it wasn’t worth getting himself nearly pulverized by an enormous hand.

“This is such a shit storm,” Gavin moaned internally. Leave it to him to make his absolute mess of a situation somehow even worse.

As tempted as he was to glance up at Rael to try and get a read on his current mood, Gavin resisted. If he was going to be quiet, he was going to do it in the most pouty way possible. He’d act almost as if the alteon didn’t exist--which was pretty difficult considering he was literally attached to the guy, but whatever.

For about fifteen minutes the two of them went on in complete silence. Gavin’s urge to run his mouth was growing more and more intense, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. Just when he thought for sure he’d blurt something out, Rael’s walking suddenly took a sudden turn.

Gavin lifted his gaze to peer out through iron bars. He was met with the sight of what to Rael was probably no more than a stream, but to Gavin looked like a terrifying torrent of fast running water. He had never been particularly afraid of water, his parents had forced him to take swim lessons when he was eight after all. However, literal giant sized bodies of water were quite different from the chlorine filled pool at the local YMCA.

Before Gavin could argue with himself about whether or not he should ask Rael what he was doing, a pair of giant hands swooped into view. In a matter of moments, the cage was once again unhooked from Rael’s belt. “What’s happening?” The words flew out of Gavin’s mouth before he could stop them. So much for the silent treatment.

“I figured you wouldn’t like to dangle over the water while I’m getting a drink,” Rael responded. Gavin tightened his grip on the bars of his cage as his captor moved to set the thing down on a nearby rock.

Of course Gavin wasn’t going to say so to Rael, but he was grateful to not have to go anywhere near that stream. Plus, he was happy for any chance to be on solid ground and not hanging from a giant's belt.

“That can’t be all that sanitary,” Gavin thought to himself as he observed Rael sipping the stream water from a cupped hand. Although the water was probably moving fast enough for it to be considered safe, Gavin still didn’t trust water that fish could pee in.

It was at that moment that a deep rumbling caused Gavin’s cage to shudder slightly. The quakes were repetitive and had a rhythm similar to Rael’s footsteps. However, the tremors couldn’t have been caused by Rael, because he was still leaning over the creek.

A feeling of dread began to rise up in Gavin, but before he could call out to Rael, his cage was snatched up into the air. He was thrown around harshly from the movements that were somehow even sharper and more violent than Rael’s. When the tumultuous experience came to an abrupt halt, Gavin looked up to see the face of a giant stranger staring in at him.

-

While the weather was fairly pleasant, without any uncomfortable humidity, Rael had found himself feeling quite parched. Perhaps he’d dried out his throat from shouting at the human. He supposed it would serve him right for losing his temper. Either way, Rael decided a quick stop at a nearby stream to get a drink wouldn’t hurt. Gavin was still being quiet and well behaved, which continued to unsettle Rael, but at least it meant he wouldn’t kick up any kind of fuss if they stopped for a moment.

After setting the cage and its occupant aside, Rael went to scoop up some handfuls of water. The cool, clear water was quick to soothe Rael’s throat. He was in the middle of taking a nice long sip when he heard a sudden commotion coming from behind him.

He whipped around to see two alteons, a man and a woman. The woman’s skin was a touch lighter than Rael’s own. Her curly auburn hair was cut short above her shoulders, and she was dressed in makeshift armor, with a sword hanging from a sheath at her hip. The man’s skin was tan, but the lack of melanin suggested he hailed from a different region from that which they resided in. His dark brown hair was closely cropped, and he had a distinct scar underneath his right eye. However, what stood out most to Rael about the man was the fact that he was currently holding Gavin’s cage in his hand.

Rael had failed to bring a sword with him on this assignment, primarily because he hadn’t expected to need it when dealing with humans. Aside from that, the woods surrounding Ostrad were considered to be quite safe due to the relentless patrols the Emperor sent out. It was for this reason that Rael had felt fairly confident he wouldn’t have to worry about encountering any kind of brigands or ruffians. “This really isn’t my day,” he sighed internally.

Catching sight of Gavin cowering inside his cage, faced with a giant stranger whose intentions were unknown to him, Rael felt an unexpected wave of sympathy. Those tiny hazel eyes stared back at Rael in desperation, as if silently begging him to come to his aid.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the dark haired man asked in amusement as he observed the human in his grasp. “Don’t tell me this is a real life human?”

While the man seemed unfazed by Rael’s presence, his companion didn’t appear to feel the same way. She stood a ways back, eyeing Rael nervously. Chances were, she suspected he had some kind of affiliation with the palace despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing the official Imperial emblem or colors.

“Damn, when people said they were tiny, I didn’t think they meant this tiny,” the thug mused, now holding Gavin’s cage at eye level so he could get a closer look. “I’ve seen rats bigger than this!”

While Rael didn’t have a real weapon on him, he did have a small dagger strapped to the back of his belt. Though he was itching to make a grab for it, he held back. There was a chance he could handle the situation without threat of violence. Already, the woman clearly didn’t seem eager for a fight with him.

“Excuse me, but that human is under the protection of his majesty the Emperor,” Rael stated coldly, taking a few slow steps closer to the man. He was pleased to see the smirk the brigand was wearing waver slightly as he realized exactly what he was interfering with.

“You’re a member of the Imperial Guard,” the woman surmised, speaking up for the first time.

The man glanced back at his partner briefly before returning his gaze to Rael. He had a smile on his face, but it was stiff and almost forced. He no doubt was aware that he was in a precarious situation, dealing with the Imperial Guard, but was attempting to put on a confident facade. “Ah, I guess it makes sense to only send one guard if all you’re guarding is this little thing,” he remarked.

Rael narrowed his eyes. It was obvious the man was fishing for information, trying to determine whether or not there were other soldiers lurking around. If he thought he and his partner could take Rael, then he would likely try to make off with Gavin. A human would sell for a hefty sum on the black market. Aletons would probably even pay just to catch a glimpse of a real life human.

“If you’re intending on attempting to take that human, I would suggest you rethink,” Rael said darkly. “Even if you manage to overcome me, you will soon have the entirety of the Emperor’s army pursuing you.” He wouldn’t pretend to have backup hidden somewhere in the trees, that was a bluff that could easily fall short. Instead, he would once again make fear his tool. “Once you’re caught, your punishment will undoubtedly be death.”

There was no need for Rael to lie. Within recent years, death had become less and less prevalent as a punishment with the Emperor. However, it was still utilized in extreme cases, such as treason. Knowing how cautious the Emperor was with human-alteon relations, Rael could only assume he would consider kidnapping a human to be treasonous.

Fear instantly flashed across the curly-haired woman’s face. She took a small step back, as if to distance herself from the entire situation. Meanwhile, her companion appeared to have become provoked by Rael’s words. An angry scowl replaced the sly one he had been wearing, and he was clutching Gavin’s cage in what seemed to be a possessive manner. “As if you have any right to be possessive over him,” Rael growled mentally.

“If we kill you, no one will have any idea who nabbed the little rat,” the man hissed, shaking the cage in a way that made Rael strangely furious.

-

Gavin had thought the way Rael handled him was about as bad as it could get. It really sucked being proven wrong. He didn’t know who the hell this random alteon that had grabbed him was, but he was somehow worse than Rael, which was quite the feat.

Ever since being snatched up, Gavin had no doubt developed a countless number of bruises as a result of this man’s rough treatment. It was like he didn’t even take into account that there was a living, breathing person inside. “There’s not going to be a living, breathing person inside for much longer if this doesn’t let up,” Gavin thought as he was again thrown against the bars by a violent shake from his new captor.

Rael seemed to be attempting to talk the man down, though of course he could only assume as much considering they were speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. Whatever it was was taking much too long for Gavin’s liking. He couldn’t believe he actually wanted to be back in Rael’s hands. But at this point, anything seemed better than being jerked around like some kind of toy. The lesser of two evils and all that.

As much as Gavin wanted to shout out obscenities at the alteon, he managed to bite his tongue. Rael seemed like he knew what he was doing, and Gavin didn’t want to screw it up by saying something stupid. His willpower really was being severely tested today.

Gavin heard someone shout something. The voice sounded feminine, and though he couldn’t see nor understand the alteon woman, he could hear the urgency in her voice.

Gavin’s captor, whom he had gathered was named “Kaydin”, jostled the cage. Most of what the man was saying went right over Gavin’s head, but he did catch him rubbing his fingers together in a money gesture. It was then that Gavin realized what exactly these people wanted him for. He had taken a lot of hits to his ego in the last couple hours, but being treated as merchandise to sell was really doing a number.

Why exactly alteons would spend money buying a human was beyond him. All the possibilities that flashed through his mind made him feel even more sick to his stomach than he already did thanks to Kaydin’s manhandling.

The woman shot back an angry retort, which was quickly followed by the sound of retreating footsteps that announced her departure. This left only Kaydin to face off against Rael.

Kaydin spat out more vicious words. Gavin glanced up to see sweat droplets beginning to form on the giant’s forehead. The guy knew he was in trouble.

Rael spoke up in his own language. It was still strange for Gavin to hear. Rael’s English was so good, he sometimes forgot it wasn’t his native tongue.

Gavin stared up at Kaydin’s face, trying to determine what his next move would be based on his facial expressions. He didn’t know what Rael had said, but he could only hope it had been convincing.

If it came down to it, he felt fairly confident that a trained soldier like Rael would win in a fight against this man who seemed to be the alteon equivalent of a mugger. The only problem was, Gavin wasn’t sure he’d survive being caught in the middle of a clash of giants.

[dashingdcboys]

Batman’s cape

We all heard of Bruce using his cape to shelter his robins from danger, like glass shattering and bullets, so it’s only fact that it’ll become a habit eventually.

Dick:

The boy was the first to ever work alongside batman, and with his hyperactive tendencies he was the first to get up close and personal with the cape. He probably saw it as a glorified climbing wall when he was just a child.

Bruce, while on a stake-out with robin, suddenly feeling small hands grabbing fistful of the cape’s material as Dick climbs onto his shoulders. “I told you I couldn’t see anything from my post! Your pointy ears were in the way :((”

Bruce didn’t mind, of course he didn’t. It was Richard and that boy’s innately adorable, even though the boy’s pixie boots swinging in front of his face were blocking his view. 

Lastly, given Dick was wearing such short pants, Bruce would always make an effort to shelter the boy from harsh weather conditions during the winter. He still does this when Dick becomes nightwing, out of habit

Jason:

Jason used to be skeptical of the cape, thought it was just a big hindrance - tha Bruce was only using it for theatrics and that he’d be much better off without it. 

“Dick doesn’t wear a cape and he can blend into the shadows, shake off broken glass and bullets just as easily!”

That is until, the day they were saving a bunch of citizens from a housefire. They got trapped inside, Jason had given his oxygen mask to a civillian who was struggling to breathe, almost suffocating himself.

Bruce wrapped Jason in his cape, making an airpocket of oxygen which the fire can’t combust, until help arrives.

“Maybe that cape isn’t as stupid as I thought.” he mumbles in a muffled voice within his father’s cape.

Bruce would also do this when Jason’s having an outburst as a “time-out”

Tim:

The third robin fanboyed so hard when he first saw the cape and cowl. You think Dick saw it cool? This smoll boy in bright yellow, red and green had his eyes sparkling at the sight of it in person.

Immediately, he started coming up with theories of its material, and Bruce patiently answered every single question he had - even though Tim nailed the majority of the answers with his hypothesis. 

“Let me guess, kevlar? Interwoven to stop bullets from less than a meter away? Synthetic - so that it’s lighter than it seems. But also . . huh, kind of soft material on the inside. Why? It’s an outer accessory - it doesn’t even come into direct contact with your skin.”

Bruce, having alfred make that upgrade so that Dick and Jay could have snuggled up to him under his cape when they got cold : “no reason.”

The only thing Tim didn’t guess was its final and most important function: a parental tool.

One day Tim took his laptop on a stake-out to test out a new program he had developed, except, it had started to rain. So, naturally, Bruce sheltered the boy with his cape and they both grinned as the lighting of the entire building went out across the street, causing the goons inside to enter a panicked frenzy.

“rock paper scissors for who gets to crash through the window first?”

“you go, robin, you’ve earned it.”

Steph:

She was just happy to make it onto the team, honestly, and was very determined to prove her worth to Batman. Her overly talkative nature reminded Bruce of Dick, her short temper of Jason and her aberrant excitement of Tim. Thus the cape had multiple uses with this robin, but she wanted none of it.

She was surprisingly disciplined on the field, clearly acting overly serious to try reach this imaginary standard she set. 

“Don’t follow me until I give you the signal.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’m your mentor, not your boss.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“* sigh *”

So in order for her to relax, unwind a bit, he noticed how she always had a granola bar in her utility belt, and did the same. He could hear Steph’s stomach growl and reached for his utility belt under his cape.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for? We used quite a few smoke bombs in the previous attack huh? Maybe I have some spare -”

Bruce, pulling out a granola bar: “Sorry, it got crushed a little, I’m pretty sure it’s just dust in the packet now but here, stop taking up space for snacks in your own belt. Mine has much more space.” 

“:00 !!”

“How do you managed to not crush these delicate breakfast bars anyway?”

Steph, smirking: “It’s a delicate art . .”

“Huh, might use it for precision training.”

He also shelters Steph from the wind when she needs to take off her hairban and arrange her hair.

Dami:

He ses the cape and cowl as a prize to be earned - his birth right which he must work hard to obtain. The boy already had his own dark cape, with a hood, which suffices to keep him warm and hidden throughout the night. But Bruce’s is much . . bigger. He’s also tiny. I think you’ve already guessed where I’m going with this.

“They’re only expecting one of us, I say we practice maneuver eight.” The boy suggested with all seriousness.

“Good idea, robin. Get into position.”

Bruce stands alone in the middle of a giant museum which the riddler is keeping hostage until the commissioner brings the ransom money, goons pointing their guns at him from every nick and corner as the riddler remains safely locked away in one of the bank safes - letting his men do all the work.

“Bold move coming in here head on with no back up.”

Guns start blazing, and Bruce is busy dodging them while the riddler tries to escape.

Cue the riddler’s shocked expresssion when he hears a small arabian boy’s high-pitched war cries.

“Operation Robin Spring attack.”

And Dami easily finds his way past all the goons and dropkicks the riddler, then goes to free the hostages.

(Robin spring attack is called that, because well, it’s an attack where Dami literally jumps out from under Batman’s cape. But also “spring” because robins don’t usually appear in spring in most countries, and it’s a surprise attack.)

Thank you for listening.

[kybervisions]

a taste of life [kylo]

summary: ben solo is brought back from the dead by a force-sensitive pirate and is given the opportunity to start a new life as part of her crew. 

author’s note: hdjfkj i love the idea of a pirate!reader so here is my contribution,, so this takes place a few weeks after the battle of exegol in which the first order was defeated ,, if you’ve played jedi fallen order than reader’s ability is exactly like cal’s ,, lmk what you think :)) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Isao muttered as he navigated the ship through the wreckage. The ruins of Star Destroyer fleets decorated Exegol, evidence of the New Republic’s victory. And There was so much to loot! You chuckled. The Scorpion landed near a weird-looking throne. It was so dark that Isao landing the Scorpion was a miracle. 

“Well I see a very fun trip to Canto Bight in our future,” You said with a smile and ran out of the cockpit. It had been a while since you last visited the city and partook in the activities of wealthy individuals. You so desperately wanted to gamble and drink credits away, so you quickly strapped your belt on and grabbed a blaster before exiting the ship. Nori ran after you. 

“Canto Bight? I thought we were going to Jedha and see the remains of the Jedi temple there,” Nori expressed disappointment with your desire to return to Canto Bight. She had become obsessed with learning more about the Jedi after learning about your Force sensitivity. 

“Jedi Temples don’t have open bars,” You reminded your Twi’lek friend, “or casinos,” Nori sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to be plastered and gamble,” You smiled. “No need to get ourselves involved in Jedi business,” 

You’ve known about your connection with the Force your entire life. You were a member of the Blazing Chain — an organization of nomadic raiders made up of Force Adepts that wandered Unknown Space. With no loyalty to the Sith or Jedi, the Blazing Chain simply utilized their Force abilities to make raids easier. Three wars occurred, and each time, for better or for worse, the Blazing Chain remained neutral. You had no intention in breaking that tradition. 

As you walked, you found a cube. The strong fog made it nearly impossible to see, but your foot gently kicked it. A faint blue glow radiated from the cube and you felt a compulsion to pick it up. You knelt down, and as your fingers touched the cube, a scene played back in your head. And then, a blinding white light. 

“Ahh, dank farrik!” You shouted and crawled away from the cube. Nori ran to your side. 

“What happened? Are you okay? Did it happen again?” Nori asked frantically. By ‘it’ she was referring to one of your ‘echo episodes’ in which an object gives you a memory by touching it. You were one of two adepts cursed with that ability from the Blazing Chain. It was referred to as a Force Echo. 

“I’m fine,” You groaned, feeling a sharp pain in your head. “That kriffin’ holocron was part of the battle here,” You informed Nori, crawling back to the cube. It wanted to be opened and only you could do it. 

“Whoa,” Nori marveled at the unique gold design on the cube. You held the cube in your palm of your hand and closed your eyes. Within seconds, the holocron levitated and opened. “That is so cool,” Nori muttered. 

A white ball of energy emerged from the holocron. You opened your eyes and a bright white light shined. You appeared possessed, and it terrified Nori. She screamed. You began muttering words in a language she couldn’t understand. 

The energy ball dispersed. The holocron closed and fell back onto your palm. 

“What the kriff was that?!” Nori exclaimed. You stood up, completely unfazed by the recent possession.  

"No clue,” You told your friend. 

A tall man dressed in black emerged from the fog. The light from the Scorpion beamed on the man. He was very pale and bloody. His black sweater bad a large hole and was absolutely filthy-looking. 

You would not be caught dead wearing that. 

“We don’t want any trouble, um, sir,” You attempted to de-escalate the interaction. The holocron must be worth thousands and there was enough on the Star Destroyers to share with the beaten-down man. 

“Do you know who I am?” The odd man asked. 

“Oh...um, no?” You replied. You looked to Nori. She shook her head.

“Where did you get that?” The man looked at the holocron in your palm. 

Immediately you tossed the cube to Nori, who put it inside her bag. “Get what?” You played dumb. “Do you need any help? A new outfit perhaps?” You asked him, looking at the large tear on the chest area of the sweater. 

His right hand reached for the hole in the sweater. His fingers touched his bear chest. He stared blankly at you, “I’m lost,” He felt a strange comfort when looking at you.

It was you that gave him life. 

“Well you are in luck!” You said with glee. “We are pirates and there isn’t anywhere we can’t go,” You informed the stranger. As a child you learned all the best traveling routes to bypass First Order and New Republic checkpoints. With the power struggle and chaos that followed the fall of the First Order there was no better time to be a pirate.

“Coruscant,” He replied rather quickly. With Alderaan destroyed, his mother would be buried at the capital. Coruscant had been in open rebellion against the First Order, and he was certain the New Republic would restore peace. 

Your smile dropped, “Coruscant? Why would you want to go there? Are you part of a gang?” You questioned and reached for your blaster. “Like I said, we don’t want any trouble,” You said cautiously. 

“What do you have in Coruscant?” Nori asked, aiming her blaster at his head. 

Truthfully, nothing. Kylo had nothing. 

“Where are you going?” He asked you, and your smile returned. 

“The Smuggler’s Moon,” You replied. 

Kylo remembered hearing Han mention Nar Shaddaa throughout his childhood. It was an entire world filled with pirates and outlaws. It was also the homeworld of the Hutts. Leia would threaten Ben with a visit to Nar Shaddaa when he would not behave. It terrified him as a child. 

“Got some people that might be interested in that glowing cube,” You mentioned. 

“You can’t sell that!” Kylo exclaimed. Both women took a step away from him, but they weren’t scared of him. They appeared rather annoyed with his outburst and demand. 

“First of all, I’m the captain, so watch your tone,” You pointed at him, unamused. “Second of all, I can sell whatever I want,” 

“That cube is an ancient Jedi artifact,” Kylo informed you. 

“Oh, well in that case,” You smiled. Kylo smiled too then, believing he had convinced you to keep the very thing you used to bring him from the dead. “I know just the Hutt to sell this to,” 

His smile dropped instantly. 

“Are you a Jedi?” Nori questioned. 

Was he a Jedi? Ben had been a padawan when Snoke tainted his mind. He spent more years of his life as a pawn for the Sith than he did as his uncle’s student. He blankly stared at Nori before his attention returned to you. 

“Doesn’t matter,” You answered the question for him. He was beyond grateful for your reply. “The cube is getting sold, and you, my friend, have three options,” Ben knitted his brows and slightly tilted his head in confusion. “You can remain lost on this hellish planet, I sell you, or you can join my crew,” 

“Why?” Kylo asked. Kindness was not virtue he experienced often. There had always been strings attached to the kindness of others. Snoke disguised his actions as a way of helping Ben. Oh, how stupid the mind of a child is. 

You had already done more than you knew — you brought him back to the land of the living, unknowingly it would seem. Offering him a spot on your crew was you giving him a chance to truly live. Joining your crew would also give him a chance to figure out how you gave him life.

“Tall, broad-shoulders beast like you, figure I could sell ya for some pretty New Republic credits,” You smiled, taunting Kylo.

“Isao said to hurry up or he’s going to leave without you,” A B1-series battle droid exited from your ship. The droid was in pristine shape, despite its mismatched torso and right arm. "I don’t know if he was being serious,” The droid added. 

Nori walked toward, “I’ll hold him off,” Both she and the droid boarded the ship. “And I’ll adjust your sarcasm setting,” Nori smiled at the droid. 

“So, what d’ya say?” You asked him. “Roger could use help cooking and cleaning,” You laughed as the words left your lips. You were filled with genuine happiness. Kylo could feel it, and it was intoxicating. 

He gave you a simple nod, “I will join your crew,” 

“Great, do you like Canto Bight?” You asked and began walking toward the ship. Kylo was hesitant to follow you. You felt his hesitancy and stopped walking to face him. 

Kylo studied you for a brief moment. Nothing about you screamed danger, but he was almost certain your hands were drenched in blood. “I’ve never been to Canto Bight,” He replied and took steps towards you. There was so much Ben had yet to see. So much of the galaxy still left to explore, and somehow, you blessed him with the breath of life. 

“Oh, you are in for a treat, big guy,” You stated, more than happy to show off your favorite vacation destination. “But first we are gonna need to buy you some clothes,” You said and boarded the ship. Kylo followed after you, and the scent of burnt cookies touched his nose. 

“Sorry!” Roger apologized, attempting to get rid of the smoke by frantically waving his arms.

[happi-tree]

On The Style and Effectiveness of 1-A Hero Costumes - Part 2/5

Part 2 of this post!

NAVIGATION

Part 1 2 3 4 5

INGENIUM / IIDA TENYA

It’s armor time!!! Behold a man. 

What I don’t like:

The costume seems too bulky for a Quirk and fighting style that optimize speed. And while it’s true that cars are pretty bulky but still go fast, it’s equally true that certain types of cars are designed to go faster. The current design reminds me most of a semi or a big SUV, but if the costume was more streamlined along the lines of racecars or sports cars, it would help take off the extra weight that the bulk provides, leaving Iida lighter and more streamlined - therefore, faster. 

Some examples of slimmer armor include Go Go Tomago’s from Big Hero 6 and Jim Lake Jr.’s from Trollhunters. And while I get that his body type inherently lends itself to being tank-like, lightening up on the bulk would probably be great for him.

The exhaust pipes out of his back confuse me. They bring some car energy, which is entirely welcome, but they likely hinder balance and motion, which is bad. They leave him looking a little unbalanced, and since so much of his strength and his fighting ability focuses on his lower body, having excess superficial material protruding out of the sides like that doesn’t seem to lend him any favors. And even while it looks cool, it just seems like it would be uncomfortable? Especially since a lot of runners - Iida included - like having full range of their arms to help propel them forward. The pipes might get in the way of that.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how this look both makes sense with Iida’s Quirk and personality and plays with elements of his older brother’s costume. It simultaneously puts across some knightly vibes - which is genius, considering how chivalrous and rule-following Iida typically is - and also calls to mind Transformers and cars with the emphasis on the engines and some of the more mecha elements.

The support! Armor is such an easy way to protect yourself while also getting some serious style points. His most essential areas are covered - neck, chest, arms, and legs - which is especially important considering that Iida’s legs are integral to his Quirk and his fighting style. The helmet is also a really good choice, considering this boy is essentially a human car. He looks a bit intimidating wearing it, which is good for fighting Villains, I suppose. Class dad is protected.

And a misc. note:

You know how after Iida’s special Recipro Burst move, he has to wait awhile while his engines cool back down? I think it would be really neat if he implemented some cooling technology into his Hero suit (similarly to Todoroki’s temperature-regulating gear). Theoretically, if he could find something that worked a bit like coolant for his engines, he would have a much quicker reaction time - and speed is the main facet of his Quirk, so it would probably help a lot!

Overall: Very good at providing protection while having a bomb-ass aesthetic. Not quite so good at being built for speed.

I CANNOT STOP TWINKLING / AOYAMA YUUGA 

On the other side of the armored spectrum… we have this kid!

What I don’t like:

*Edna Mode voice* NO CAPE! Why do I not like the cape? Capes can snag on stuff very easily and it would be an easy thing for Villains to target and use to unbalance Aoyama. Longer capes are especially susceptible to getting trapped under rubble, torn up, or covered in gunk from the environment (which is not the Look he seems to like). I feel like a shorter cape would get a similar message across while minimizing the potential dangers that a long cape poses. Of course, Aoyama can be trained via experience to utilize his costume effectively with the full-length cape, but when his life and the lives of others are on the line, I’d rather not take that chance.

The shades. I get that they’re iconic, but they’re taking rose colored glasses a bit too seriously. 110% will fall off his face and also messes with the princely Vibe the rest of his costume provides. I do like their Elton John energy, though.

Not a bad thing, but I just want to know how his belt works.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how the costume’s obvious “princely knight” vibe reflects so much of Aoyama’s character. 

The support here is also really good! Working the belt into the theme of his costume so seamlessly is very innovative and I love that for him. Getting the knee pads and shoulder pauldrons to match his central laser both adds to the uniqueness of the outfit and also pushes that royalty theme since they look very similar to inset gems. 

The color scheme. Purple, silver, gold, and black look very classy and regal together, and I appreciate how the royal purple ties back into the concept of European royalty, which is very in-character for this boy. His pantaloon-looking things??? Neato.

Overall: Eh, okay. Ditch the glasses and shorten the cape. Superb, you funky lil knight light.

CREATI / YAOYOROZU MOMO

Here we are! I’m finally taking a crack at one of the most highly debated hero costumes in the entire show, and like a good portion of people, I’m gonna be extremely salty about it. Yaomomo doesn’t deserve this - none of the girls deserve this. These are my thoughts:

What I don’t like:

The absolute lack of support. For any aspect of her. Nothing about this costume is protective (other than maybe the partial high collar). Her most vulnerable areas are exposed, and while it makes sense for easy Quirk usage, it does not make sense for a girl who’s fighting homicidal maniacs on the front lines. The most glaring area in need of support is obviously her chest, as nothing substantial is holding her bust in place. However, so much could be done to work with the benefits of Creation and against its weaknesses that is not being done in this costume. I’ve seen quite a few redesigns that include a sports bra with a front zip closure, which is worlds better. With the show being set in the future, having a slightly mechanized costume with the ability to retract certain pieces at the press of a button would be useful and likely doable considering Yuuei’s own Support department. Gloves would probably be a good idea to give Yaoyorozu a better grip on harder-to-handle Created objects, such as heavy metal machinery. 

The over-sexualization is, obviously, disgusting. Nothing about this costume says “Hero.” What it does say, in-universe, is that someone had the absolute gall to approve and send this outfit to a 15-year-old girl about to be thrown headfirst into training for an extremely dangerous profession. It says that giving a person in their freshman year of high school an overly sexualized outfit meant for combat training is okay (it isn’t, for reasons I can’t even begin to explain). This more closely resembles an outfit for a lingerie or swimsuit model than it does for any type of superhero, which alone should be enough to warrant some serious changes - especially, as I have stated, since the girl is only 15!

The overall aesthetic. There is no aesthetic reading for this costume other than “sexy”, which, as I explained above, is very problematic. Sure, the exposed skin makes sense for her Quirk, since she needs access to skin in order to produce items with Creation, but nothing about this outfit denotes anything about her personality. Yaoyorozu Momo is a gentle girl who has been shown to have self-esteem issues from early on in the show, and just knowing that makes me wonder if she feels uncomfortable wearing this. If she’s totally comfortable in this look, good for her! But comfort in our clothing factors so much into our mental states, which translates directly to our physical performance - it’s the same reason why having clothes that fit you and your style well make you feel more confident and more content. And especially if Yaoyorozu wasn’t quite expecting the amount of skin revealed when her costume was given to her, it could likely have added on to her self-esteem issues as seen early in the school year.

The skintight fit of what amounts to a glorified bathing suit is not conducive or acceptable whatsoever. With such a powerful Quirk, Yaoyorozu needs all the protective material she can get - which, as I said in Uraraka’s analysis, is quite simply not possible to fit under that bodycon fabric. Some padding at the very least would work wonders, and bulletproof material would serve her even better. 

Once again, heels are not good for any kind of running or fighting! At least it’s a block heel, which is marginally more stable than, say, a stiletto, but still.

The literal bookshelf on her ass. It makes no sense to put it there - it’s an inconvenient place (what if she needs to sit down?) and it looks incredibly awkward to move around with. Besides, there’s absolutely nothing stopping that book from falling at the slightest jostle. At least give her a proper holster or implement it into a toolbelt like some of the boys have. 

What’s with the belt? Can it hold emergency supplies? Or is it just there to make it seem like she’s wearing more than a deep v one-piece? I’m at a loss here.

Here’s what I like:

The color scheme. Deep red, white, and pale yellow look good on her! The color ratios are also pretty good in my opinion. Unfortunately, this is the only good thing I can say about her getup.

And to round us out, some misc. notes:

I feel like the book could be done away with entirely and replaced with something digital. This universe is set multiple centuries into the future, and I think something like a holographic data set would look slick, enable for faster search time for whatever info Yaoyorozu would need, and eliminate the bulk problem completely. At the very least, there could be a smartwatch-type gauntlet to pull up info with a larger screen to enable easy reading. Really, the lack of support for Yaoyorozu’s look is devastating because she could go so many directions in creating an outfit that works with her Quirk’s strengths and against its weaknesses.

Overall: Awful, a disgrace, and a disservice to one of the coolest, kindest characters in the class. I would kill for her to get the outfit she deserves.

INVISIBLE GIRL / HAGAKURE TOORU

Wow, look! Two travesties in a row! One more and I get a bingo!

Hagakure, I love you so much, and I am so, so sorry that the yahoos over at the Support company thought that this was a good idea.

What I don’t like:

Uh. The fact that there isn’t a costume. There is literally no in-universe rationalization for this. Surely, they have the technology. Just look at Lemillion! Togata Mirio’s Quirk is literally phasing through materials (including his own clothing) and they made him his own non-phaseable costume by weaving his own DNA into the fabric! Even if they don’t have the technology (they do), I know that Hatsume and probably the rest of the Support students would immediately jump on the chance of creating a fabric with the ability to switch between visible and invisible modes. 

Once again, the sexualization of minor Hero students continues to disturb me. Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to send a naked teenager out into a live battlefield just because she’s less likely to be noticed that way? This line of thought surely doesn’t account for stray bullets or falling debris, nor does it account for this poor girl’s peace of mind. She should be focused on getting the job done and saving people, not worrying about how it’s too cold for her to work properly or how there’s nothing between her body and a loaded gun except for the air between them.

The gloves and shoes seem like they’re kinda. Missing the point of contributing to a stealth Hero costume? Yes, they’re good so that Hagakure can be easily recognized among her allies, but does she just have to stow them wherever when she needs to go fully invisible and hope she can find them once the mission’s over? Plus, Hagakure will always, at the very bare minimum, need something to protect the soles of her feet. Walking barefoot just for everyday civilian stuff would cause a lot of problems, but Heroes likely have a lot of broken glass, broken nails, debris, and other nasty things on the streets where they fight. Tetanus is not fun to have. 

Here’s what I like:

The gloves are a nice color, I guess?

Some misc. notes:

I gotta say, I’ve seen SO many good takes on outfit redesigns for Hagakure (same with Yaoyorozu) and the fandom collectively has some wonderful ideas on how to go about creating a costume for her. Personally, I think it would be cool if she had a full-body suit that could change between visible and invisible modes - that way, she would be easy to identify in head counts and it would likely be easier to see places where she could be injured after a fight. At the very, very least they could pull a Lemillion and have her outfit infused with something from her own DNA so it can disappear as she does while leaving her at least covered.

Overall: So, so bad. Please give this girl a suit. I’m tired. 

TLDR Part 2:

Great Costumes: 

Good: Iida

Okay: Aoyama

Questionable: 

Bad: 

The Absolute Worst: Yaoyorozu, Hagakure

[thunderbird-one-ai]

When the World Burns Chapter 3

Well here it is the final chapter! It was a struggle to write this one because there was so. much. John. I really hope I didn’t ruin John here guys I do love our man in space, Hope the writing did it justice. @gumnut-logic here you are, a happy ending to the disastrous start these boys had. 

I want to say this even happened just before Brains found the message From Jeff. 

‘Beep……..Beep……….Beep,’ Scott swore he knew that noise. He had heard it many times before. He knew that this sound meant something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t think as to why. Why this sound made him feel so worried and anxious. Scott tried to focus more, trying to pinpoint where exactly the beeping was coming from. But no amount of focus helped, he couldn’t see anything only hear this ‘beep’ noise overwhelming his hearing. Why was it so damn loud! Scott tried to move his head away from the noise, only to discover he couldn’t move his head at all. He realised he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t move his hands, feet or any other part of his body. Scott began to panic, even though he couldn't hear his voice, he called out hoping someone would hear him. ‘Beep…Beep…Beep,’ The noise grew louder, the gap between the ‘beeps’ growing smaller, this only made Scott panic more. Something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He felt trapped….trapped! Scott’s eyes opened just before a vicious cough wracked through his body, his beaten body. Scott only came to that conclusion since everything hurt, a lot. The coughing didn’t stop it was relentless, breathing became a challenge. At least until something was forced over his face, Scott would have moved a hand up to it if he didn’t hurt so much. “Easy Scott, easy,” Scott recognised that voice, unmistakable.

Scott opened his eyes and a very blurry image awaited him, but he couldn’t miss the splash of green in his image. A unique green that he would know anywhere. Virgil. Breathing became much easier now that he was able to roughly see who is was handling something to his face. Virgil meant safety, but safety from what? Scott couldn’t recall right now. He heard some other muffled sounds which Scott thought were voices but couldn’t tell immediately. “Deep breaths Scott. That’s it,” Scott heard Virgil say again in a soft tone. His vision cleared more, and he was able to make out the features of Virgil’s face. He was frowning, looking worried, which in turn made Scott frown. This added to Scott’s worry that something was wrong but again, he couldn’t figure out what. “He’s still confused most likely, he didn’t have much air left in his tank as well as all the injuries he sustained during the incident,” Scott heard Virgil even though he was looking away. Someone was hurt, badly by the sounds of it. Virgil did have a notion to over-worry but there was something in his voice that Scott noticed. It was underlying panic; something had shaken his brother badly meaning this was serious, but he didn’t know who was injured. Scott tried to sit up, pushing past the pain that threatened to make him cry out although, he believed this pain to be mostly in his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder thinking it was Virgil, he looked over to see not a blurry green utility belt, but an orange one. “Jo…hn,” Scott forced himself to say. Although his voice sounded rough and he was pretty sure it didn’t sound like he said John. More to the point, John was supposed to be on Thunderbird Five. Scott didn’t remember being told John was coming Earthside, so he concluded it was probably due to this incident Virgil spoke about. Even with the hand on his shoulder Scott still tried to move his head. “Don’t move so much Scott, the re-breather is doing a lot of work, so you don’t have to,” Now it was Scott's turn to frown at John. Why would Scott be wearing a re-breather….unless he was the one who was injured. A small groan slipped from Scott's lips as his body confirmed that the pain was indeed real and not just from the panic. Now one question was answered many more took its place. Why was he injured? Why was he ‘this’ badly injured? Scott saw John's face soften. “It’s alright Scott, you’re back on Earth. We got you out of the ship. Well Alan and Virgil did,” John said “I…I don’t remember,” Scott replied confused. Space mission? Their last issue was a broken-down cargo ship last month heading to the moon. “Alright John, he doesn’t need information overload just yet. Let him rest first, he’s still pretty weak,” Virgil said But Scott didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to know what happened. He felt his eyelids grow heavy suddenly, a faint cool feeling in his left hand spreading up his arm. “Sorry big brother but you need to rest,” this was the last thing Scott heard Virgil say before he felt the warm, painless unconsciousness claim him. TBTBTBTBTBTBTB When Scott woke up, the room was a lot darker, a faint glow illuminating from above him. There was less pain, but it didn’t stop him from moving slightly to try and lessen it further. He heard movement to his right. “Scott? You’re awake,” Scott looked to his right to see John looking at him, the hollo book he was reading down on his lap. At least he could see John now and it wasn’t just an orange blur. He saw John now in civilian clothing with a small blanket around his legs. “how are you feeling? I should probably wake Virgil,” “You kidding? Waking Virgil before sunrise,” Scott’s voice still sounded rough, his throat protesting at the sudden use, he coughed. Before he could speak again, John was there holding a small cup of water with a straw. The water was a refreshing and welcoming feeling going down his throat. When the cup was empty he relaxed more into the bed sighing. “I’m pretty sure Virgil would wake up knowing you’re finally awake again,” John said softly. “Again?” “You’ve been asleep for three days Scott,” John replied with a frown. “Three days? But I remember….waking up and seeing you earlier,” “Yes Scott you did, three days ago,” John sighed. “You were bad Scott. When they finally got to once they got you separated from the wreckage, you had three percent left on your oxygen tank, you weren’t even breathing when Virgil got you back to Thunderbird Three. Your left shoulder was dislocated, you had 3 broken ribs, two fractured. Your legs were bruised, even Virgil can’t believe there wasn’t one fracture on them. You were in bad shape Scott…still are,” Scott saw his younger brother, looking him over. Only then he realised John had bags under his eyes, he looked shattered. “When was the last time you slept,” Scott said breaking the small silence and it made John smile a little. “Even after all, I said you are more concerned about me,” Johns smile soon faded. “You almost died Scott, this was a close call, even for you. I wasn’t ten metres from you, I could see you form the door and EOS….damn it I can’t believe she listened to you,” “What did EOS do?” Scott asked, still looking to his younger brother. “You don’t remember? You asked EOS to separate the section of the ship I was in and she did it. She signed your death warrant Scott. I couldn’t get to you,” “But everything turned out okay. You got to me,” “I blamed EOS for killing you…” Scott frowned at that. He knew that statement hurt John deeply just by looking at his expression. “If I asked EOS to do something, I must have known you were going to something that we’d all regret. You know I’ve never… got along with…’her’ well. I must have had my reasons and she agreed. It kept you safe,” “Not at the cost of your own life Scott. If you….” John closed his eyes for a second before looking back to Scott and continuing. “We need you Scott….I need you, We’ve lost Mum, lost Dad and we couldn’t…I couldn’t bear it if I lost you too. We’ve lost so much Scott, we wouldn’t be able to function if we lost you,” Scott didn’t reply, how could he? John, his calm collective brother, had just completely opened up to him for the first time in possibly years. Scott himself knew he was the culprit of bottling things up until they burst open. Anyone could ask Virgil about how many ‘Brotherly’ talks they’ve had regarding Scott’s recklessness. But john? Even Scott had to admit he envied his younger brothers’ ability to seem so calm, and now Scott realised that wasn’t the case at all, John had bottled things up just as much as he had. Scott would have replied with ‘Dad would have done the same’ but John didn’t need that sentence to be said out loud. Scott sighed softly. “You’re so much like him Scott…I get worried you’re going to leave as he did,” John spoke quietly and moved his gaze away from Scott to face forwards again. Scott moved his hand slowly over to rest on John's arm, squeezing it. He didn’t say anything, Scott didn’t need to. Much like with Virgil, Scott was able to communicate his feelings without words coming from his lips. Even though Scott didn’t remember, it was a close call, so close that it even rattled John to his core. But in one simple gesture, he hoped that it was enough to convince John that he wasn’t going to go anywhere, that he’d stay here for as long as he could. Making sure they remained together, as a family.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Restless (Batman/Flash (Bruce/Barry) E-rated fic, 5.2k

Returning home from a mission in outer space, the team picks up a distress signal off-course. They rush off to help, landing on a strange alient planet teeming with life. Especially within the plant kingdom.

While guarding the Javelin, Bruce and Barry encounter one such member while engaging in some familiar fight-flirting. Will its effects spell trouble for the League, or help these two relax their guards long enough to explore new possibilities?

(Hint: It's a little bit of both)

           Bruce scrolls through his tablet, monitoring the Javelin’s functions from his seat at the front. One of many tasks he divides his focus between, including watching the video feed of the open bay door and checking the communication systems in case the others radio in. All necessary when designated support, on guard for when the mission goes sour and a quick exit is needed.

           They picked up a distress signal on their way back from a diplomatic mission. Helping unite warring factions by exposing the true masterminds of the conflict. A group of gem smugglers who used battlefield confusion to mine and transport a supply of crystals that, when broken down correctly, can become a low-cost substitute for fuel. When they left the leaders not only agreed on peace but also dedicated the efforts they put towards war into research on these crystals.

           Job done, he and the others began the journey back. Halfway from Earth the calm atmosphere was quickly shattered by blaring alarms and the crackle of an open transmission. “Help! Repeat *buzz* in danger… anyone… of control *buzz* Help!”

           “Bruce,” Clark steadied a hand on his chair, leaning beside him, “Can you trace where this is coming from?”

           He flipped a few more switches, already twisting a knob when Clark stepped in. “Working on it.”

           The signal came from a planet two star systems away. Lush with vegetation, Bruce found landing a tad impossible without crushing a tree or two. They ultimately landed in a small clearing near a jagged outcrop; rocks and leaves providing cover for their ship. Fully settled John lay out the orders – him, Clark, Diana, and J’onn would scout ahead for the source while he stayed behind.

           “Ugh, I’m so bored.”

           Him, and one other person.

           Bruce glances at Barry, the speedster’s knees tucked up under his chin while he glares at the windshield. He vibrates in his seat, electricity sparking from his eyes. “Stop it,” Bruce tells him, tapping on a window and bringing it full-size, “you’ll make the whole ship shake.”

           Barry scoffs, directing his glare at Bruce. “At least something would happen, then.”

           He did not take his assignment lightly. “Why do I have to guard the ship, too? Batman can handle it!”

           “Bruce used up a lot of his artillery on our last mission,” John said, pointing at Bruce. “In the chance that enemies sneak past our defenses and overrun him, we’d lose our position.”

           “Very unlikely chance,” Bruce reminds them. Helping Barry because he would rather guard the Javelin alone. And not with a speedster who proved more distracting than he can handle.

           “Even so,” John continued, “Barry, you would provide an escape path. Or scour the planet in three seconds, find us, and assemble the calvary. Now there will be no further discussions, got it?” Barry opened his mouth in protest, snapping it closed just as fast given the sharp look on John’s face. “Good. Hopefully this won’t take long, and we can make up for lost time.” He strides towards the exit, the others at his heels. “Let’s move out!”

           That was over an hour ago. John checked in an hour after they left, reporting they have not found any sign of a threat so far. Bruce gave them updated specs on the transmission he decoded while they were out, about how the signal came from somewhere north of where they landed. He signed off, promising Bruce a second call in another hour.

           Another hour where Bruce must keep the fraying strings of his patience tied together lest they snap, and he does something he will regret.

           Barry slumps in his seat, legs dropped on the dashboard console and arms hanging off the sides. He sighs dramatically, again, drawing Bruce away from his duties. “Feet off.”

           “Why?” he asks, digging his heels in, “I’m not even on any of the controls!”

           “Because I said so,” Bruce turns to face him, brows drawn deep behind his cowl, “that’s why.”

           Barry matches his expression, nose twitching with irritation. Suddenly, though, all the creases of his mask smooth, and Barry offers a half-lidded stare instead. Shrugs, he removes his feet and lets them crash to the floor. “Fine.”

           “Fine?”

           “Yeah, why are we wasting time arguing, y’know?” The corners of his mouth tick upwards, a small chuckle escaping past his lips. “I’m bored… but not that bored to care about where I can place my feet.” Then he tugs off his cowl, running gloved hands through sweat-spiked locks. “It sure is hot in here, though.”

           While strange, Bruce treats his resignation as a victory. “Glad we can agree,” he says, stilted, “you can turn down the temperature, if you want…”

           Barry stretches casually, rolling the wrong knob. A burst of heat explodes from the vents and onto them, causing the already warm air to swell further. Bruce curses at the sweat, pooling under the edges of his cowl, escapes and race down his face. He fixes Barry’s mistake and readies another tirade.

           Only nothing comes. A sweet scent blew between them, his nose itching from its brush. Bruce sniffs, rubbing his nose. He breathes in deep, although the intent with which he does so is lost on him. Bruce cannot remember what he wanted to say.

           Relaxing against his seat, limbs loose and hanging, he tries grasping for his thoughts. They slip out of reach like loose paper on the wind. Like confetti. His lips fold in a small smile, prompted by the comparison – imagining that ticker tape raining overhead while in a parade.

           A trumpeter blows a horn, except it isn’t that. Red brackets the video on his monitor, showing a large number of vines creeping through the entryway. Bruce then glances up when he sees a few, similar vines inching over the windshield. He squints, wracking his brain for a response. The sense that he forgets an important detail hung overhead. Looming shadow forgotten when he hears Barry clearing his throat beside him.

           “It’s so hot,” he whines again. Barry has one leg up over his knee while he tugs on his boot. It pops off with a relieved sigh, Barry tossing it behind him while he frees his other foot. When finished there he starts pulling on the neck of his cowl.

           Bruce slips a finger under his own heated costume, adding needed breathing room. He swallows around a knot in his throat. “What are you… what’re you doing?”

           “Cooling off,” Barry explains, fabric pooling at his waist. Toned arms and chest on display for Bruce, his eyes following the darker blond hairs as they lead downwards. Suggestive, coloring Bruce’s imagination with images he has never seen but desperately wants. Craves more than ever before.

           Barry stands, whipping off his pants and giving Bruce’s fantasy points of reference. Bruce blanches, knowing he should look away but unable to. “That’s better,” Barry sits again, one leg thrown casually over the side of the chair. He waits a beat, and then faces Bruce. “Y’know,” he whispers, grinning, “you’re lookin’ a little hot around the collar.”

           “I am?”

           “Take all that off,” Barry waves at his costume, “it’s so hot. Why’re you even wearing it anyway?”

           Bruce doesn’t know, nor does Bruce care he cannot remember. “Sure,” he says, shucking the cowl and cape in one swift motion. His shirt follows, backtracked by an appreciative grunt from nearby. Barry watches him undress with one hand stroking his heavy cock. A bead of pre-come leaks out which he wipes up with his thumb. Bruce’s tongue runs over his bottom lip, skin scorching even though unburdened by thick fabric.

           Barry giggles, Bruce shifting his gaze towards his face. He hides a wide, bright grin behind a fist, and hazy eyes spark in delight. “Why’d you stop?” Barry asks, “it was getting good…” His pumps grow slow, achingly slow. “Don’t you want to feel good?” Bruce has not understood much these past few minutes, but the hidden meaning clicks immediately.

           Fumbling with his utility belt, Bruce kicks off his boots and jumps up. Bounces while peeling his pants off. Until he stands, naked, his own dick hanging beside his thigh. “I want to feel good,” he says.

           “So do I,” Barry rises, “so do I…” He runs his fingers through the hairs at the nape of Bruce’s neck. “Let’s feel good together.”

           “All right…”

           Bruce presses his lips against Barry’s, skin tingling from the speedster’s inherent electricity. Static latching onto nerve endings and setting them off like fireworks. His hands travel down the planes of Barry’s body, settling on his waist. He squeezes with bruising force while he works the other man’s mouth open with his tongue.

           Barry responds with matched fervor. Guides Bruce through forceful tugs on his hair, other hand vibrating and circling his hole. Bruce moans into the kiss, legs buckling from the pleasure. The tremors still, Barry’s hand latched tight on his lower back. Together they sink into the floor. He lies on his back, legs lifted and spread, resting on Barry’s shoulders.

           “How badly do you want this, Bruce?”

           “So badly,” he tells Barry, squirming in his grip. A rogue foot nudges too close to the speedster’s cheek and draws a chuckle out of him. “Very badly.”

           “Perfect…” Barry dips below where Bruce can see him, blond locks like a blanket for his dick. Tight, black coils mixing with the pale-yellow color of Barry’s hair. He opens Bruce’s ass and noses at it, first. Tickling the hole and blurring his vision further. Bruce bites his lip while stars dance overhead.

           Barry licks a stripe up his crack, darting quickly inside Bruce’s hole. “Do it again.” He does, longer, twisting against the wave-like motions of his fluttering muscles.

           “Y’know, I always wondered what bats tasted like…” Bruce snorts a laugh which quickly transitions into a moan when Barry slips a finger in where his tongue used to be. Vibrating and crooked, Barry finds Bruce’s prostate. He arches, sliding on his forgotten cape. Bruce claws at Barry’s scalp while a large drop of pre-come soaks into his hair. “You like that?”

           Someone answers for him. A voice crackles across nearby speakers, yelling throughout the room. An attempt at bursting the bubble he and Barry exist within. “Bruce! Barry! Do you copy?” Bruce recognizes the voice, but no name nor face appears in his mind besides Barry’s. “I repeat – do you copy! We’ve found the source of the distress signal and – Diana, on your right – and it’s a trap! We’re sending our coordinates for an extraction.” His voice, drenched with anger, weighs heavily on his good mood. Bruce’s smile falls as he stares at the red, blinking light on the console. “Hello? Is anyone even there –“

           Barry looks up from his hole, finger working a steady rhythm despite the interruption. “Doesn’t anyone have manners?” he scoffs, “We’re in the middle of something.”

           “Let me handle it.” Blindly, Bruce thumps his foot along the console. Pressing randomly at buttons until the red, blinking light snaps and fades; the voice along with it. Silence governs the machinery. “Done.”

           “Beautiful…” Barry wraps his free hand around Bruce’s ankle and brings it close, kissing the side of his foot. “Thank you.”

           “Thank me by adding another finger.” He listens, the second digit stretching his hole. Barry scissors it open, Bruce’s toes curling from the act. “Yeah…”

           “Hey, man, don’t let me do all the work,” Barry says, smirking, “play with yourself a little.”

           “Hmm…” Bruce slides his hand out of the other man’s hair, loosely gripping his straining dick. It pulses with urgency, a steady leak coating a match of skin that grows when Bruce messily coats it along the rest of his purpling cockhead. “Oh, Barry,” he hisses, jerking, “can you…”

           “Can I what?”

           “Stick it in me. I want your cock in me.”

           “Skipping ahead? And they say I’m fast.”

           “Too long…” Bruce admits, shivering when Barry lays his hand over Bruce’s and helps stroke his dick. “Wanted this… for too long.”

           Barry cools, fingers half-inside Bruce and stopping him from continuing the rub of his dick. Bruce whines, low in his throat, asking why Barry stopped. “Sorry,” he whispers, a light bursting behind the fog of his eyes. Like someone lit a torch in a lighthouse, so weary sailors could find their way home. “Sorry I… a thought zipped by me.”

           “What kind of thought?”

           “Well,” Barry wiggles a tiny gesture with his hidden hand, Bruce’s knee bending from the bundle of nerves he hit. “When you said that, it was funny because I’ve always felt the same. So that thought that raced by – the one that happened just then – it was me wondering why, if we wanted each other… why we never did this?”

           Bruce dives into the pools of his memories for a reason. Except they’re dark, inaccessible, covered in a film that prevents Bruce from knowing any other time that isn’t now. In the heat of the moment, too long meant from when Barry removed his cowl to laying on his back with Barry’s fingers in his ass. If Bruce could see what his mind hides, he doubts there aren’t a thousand scenes like this waiting. The idea of he and Barry not enjoying each other’s bodies proves laughable, which is why he snickers generously. “We’re doing it now,” Bruce tells him, caressing Barry’s chin, “isn’t that what matters?”

           “Yeah… you’re right.”

           “Good. Now, stop worrying,” Bruce says, “there’s nothing to worry about. Us fucking’s all that matters.”

           Barry nods, nose wrinkling from the effort of a great whiff. Light dies behind his gaze once more; blue dulled and cloudy, hidden behind sagging lids. “Yeah, I wanna fuck.”

           “Then fuck me.”

           He wastes no time flipping Bruce onto his chest. Bruce pushes up onto his elbows, leaning all his weight to one side while he grabs his dick. Nearly falling, hitting his chin on the hard metal, when Barry shoves his cock into Bruce with reckless abandon. Aim true, he grazes the prostate and vibrates.

           Bruce twists his dick, crying from the pleasure. His spastic jerking skips a beat with every forceful thrust past Bruce’s rim. Barry keeps him steady with a firm grip on his waist. Pain disappearing with each second as ecstasy rises and rises like a volcano. Trembling, sweaty and straining, Bruce knows he will come after some more humping.          

           Except, also aware of Bruce’s impending orgasm, Barry taps into his speed and in quick succession spears Bruce repeatedly. Mashes his prostate like the button on a controller.

           He screams, orgasm ripped from him. Bruce coats his hand and stains the cape below, collapsing onto it when the act drained him of any remaining strength. Barry, wasting his endurance with the finishing blow, follows Bruce’s lead. Pulls out and comes over Bruce’s waiting back.

           Barry collapses atop Bruce, rolling off after a beat when he regains some wherewithal. Ejaculate painted on his chest from the brief embrace. They pant, side by side, while the smell of come mixes with the heady sweetness already present. Bruce breathes in a deep, contented sigh, shifting until he, too, rests on his back.

           Looking over at Barry, he finds the other’s eyes already on him. “Hey.”

           “Hey,” he says, smiling, “that was…”

           “It sure was.” A loud rumble cuts through the mood, both men giggling from the sound. “Was that you or me?”

           “Depends. You hungry?”

           “Starving,” Bruce yawns, raising his arms overhead. “I can definitely eat, like, a lot…”

           Barry nods, sitting up. “I can go get us some food and bring it back here,” he suggests, stepping over towards the exit. Pauses at the door to glance back at Bruce. “Maybe have some more sex after we eat.”

           “Definitely have more sex.”

           He winks, “Be back in a flash.” Barry leaves, then, Bruce alone in the strange, metal cave he and Barry began in.

           Rising, Bruce inspects the area while scratching at the come drying on his stomach with his come-covered hand. He yawns and blinks blearily at the only section of the area not covered in grey. Pink blossoms covered a long rectangle, specks of green from their vines popping up where the petals didn’t overlap. Bruce reaches forward, except an invisible barrier blocks his attempt. Sucking on the finger, he pouts. “Bummer.”

           Disappointment fades, Bruce reminded of his hunger with another growl. “I could really use something to eat,” he mutters, turning and leaving the cockpit.

           On his directionless journey, no destination set in mind, Bruce comes across another wall of those pink flowers. Barry studies them from nearby, a strange expression that wrinkles his gorgeous features. “Careful,” Bruce says, walking over, “you can’t touch those.”

           He raises a brow, brushing a finger against one of the petals. Bruce stares in awe, copying Barry. Flinches slightly when he thinks he hits the barrier again. Except there is none, so he pets a lone flower. He plucks it and twirls it between his fingers, smiling.

           “I was going... somewhere,” Barry explains, “but then I noticed… are these – are these supposed to be here?”

           “They’re very pretty,” Bruce says, dragging Barry’s face towards his, “Like you.” He places the flower in the crook of the speedster’s ear, hand tracing a simple pattern on his cheek that he seals with a kiss. “Why shouldn’t it be here?”

           Barry thins his lips in a serious frown, eyes clearing up. Suddenly, though, they hear a low rumble from nearby.

           Turning, all the flowers on the vines puckered. Buds closed and asleep. But then they explode, showering them with yellow dust that drifts through the air and dissipates. Leaving only a sweet trace of having existed, briefly.

           Bruce coughs, “That was weird…” A whining from his stomach distracts him, though, knocking the eruption out of his thoughts. “Hey… was that you or me?”

           Wobbling on his heels, Barry shrugs. “Depends. You hungry?”

           “Definitely. I can eat, like, a lot…”

           Barry jerks his thumb behind him. “Let’s see if we can scavenge something. And then we can have sex.”

           “Yes!” Bruce pulls Barry in for a passionate kiss, squeezing his stiff cock. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

           “Since when?”

           “Since always…” Barry begins leading Bruce away from the flowers. However, before they fully leave its presence, Bruce snatches another flower. Stares down at it while unaware of his surroundings. Sniffs the heavenly perfume and wades in the thick molasses that is his mind. He tucks it behind his ear. Lets go of Barry’s hand and ensnaring his waist, pumping his cock while they walk. Barry laughs at the gesture. “Since as long as I can remember…”

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

           Diana clears a path for them through the jungle brush with wide sweeps of her sword, taking over for John when his ring warned his battery wore thin. He hadn’t recharged since they left the K’zvig Nebula. Thankfully, there was enough for the side job they picked up on the way home.

           “Stupid bandits,” John bats a low-hanging branch out of his sight, spluttering when it launches an attack and whacks him in the face. He growls, snapping it from the tree. “Why couldn’t it have been a natural disaster or an accident… but no, we had to deal with bandits.”

           Clark offers a comforting shrug. “At least we made sure they wouldn’t fool any more travelers.”

           The distress signal, in reality, laid a trap for any passing ships that heard it. Reeling prey towards the bandit camp where their goods and lives were stolen. When they sent that message, the bandits wanted to intercept a passing military vessel from a nearby planet, carrying a rumored experimental weapon. By mistake, they latched onto the frequency the Javelin used.

           Being the heroes they are, the bandits contended with forces far above their weight class. But they put up a strong fight. Incapacitated Clark early on in the fight and bracketed J’onn with imitation fire, both products of the local fauna; they weaponized nature against them. With John’s power running low, Diana’s quick thinking saved the day. She recognized a nearby plant from a mishap they had on their path towards the bandit camp and lassoed it, kicking the large seed from inside the bulb and watching it explode where their numbers were the largest. After that the group collected runaway stragglers and radioed for the local law enforcements.

           “Hopefully,” John sighs, “Although I still think we should have stayed with them until they were taken away.”

           “You know we couldn’t. Bruce and Barry might need us.”

           They were all unnerved by the lack or response from their friends. Neither when they reached out during the attack nor when it ended did they answer. Each subsequent ignored call fueled the necessity for a quick retreat from the planet.

           John identified a rock formation he spotted when they first arrived, and realized they were close. Although he knew nothing about what they would find when stumbling upon their ship.

           “John? Clark? I think you two should take a look at this…”

           Diana’s voice sunk any positivity he could have spun. The two men exchanged glances while darting through the underbrush, stepping into the clearing behind Diana and J’onn. “What the hell happened?”

           Reminiscent of a parade float, flowers and vines fully blanketed the Javelin. Across the front, twining around its wings, and crawling inside through the open bay doors. Their ride made completely useless by overgrown weeds.

           “Well,” Diana sighs, “I guess we know what happened to the others.”

           Clark frowns, “Really? You think they’re still inside?”

           “I detect two brain patterns within,” J’onn says, hands at his temples, “Though faint… I recognize them as Barry’s and Bruce’s…”

           Diana nods, drawing her blade once more. “It shouldn’t take too long, then.” She advances, sword at the ready. John watches Diana raise her weapon, about to strike, when he notices the flowers retract in a defensive position.

           “Diana! Watch out!” Regardless of his energy levels, John shoots off a green rope and wraps around his friend’s waist. Pulls her from the path of the flower’s spray, pollen exploding out of its mouth. He drags Diana towards him and creates a bubble around all four while more and more flowers expel their pollen.

           “I almost…” Diana tucks her sword in its scabbard, nodding at John. “Thank you.”

           Clark touches the bubble, grazing his fingers at where the pollen collects on its surface. “What the hell is this?”

           John glares at the now greenish-pink flowers waiting, their petals pointed and ready for another puff. His ring speaks aloud, reminding him of his current situation. “Ring,” he asks it, “can you search the database and see if you can find information on what kind of flowers we’ve got on our hands?”

           His ring assents, tacking on a second warning at the end. John waves it off. More concerned with whether or not the shield will last given his power and not with the power, itself.

           “Flowers that have seven hyper-pigmented pink petals, yellow, explosive pollen and an overly sweet aroma are known as Lyossus Blossoms. Native to the planet Rylyn IX, they are used by inhabitants and visitors recreationally, in religious ceremonies, and medical procedures because of the pollens’ effect on the human body. By sensing danger using the longest petal, these flowers’ defense mechanism neutralizes any aggression they sense. Ingesting pollen – whether by breathing it in, eating it, or even letting it touch your skin, as a human – will neutralize both the pre-frontal cortex and hippocampus. And adrenaline levels will fall while dopamine rises.”

           Clark chuckles, “This is space weed?” Three sets of glares focus on him, stifling his good mood. “Sorry.”

           “Ring,” he continues, “Is there any serious harm for humans who are exposed to this pollen.”

           “In the short term, no. However, overexposure can lead to death by starvation and dehydration, as the person loses inner drive to fulfill either of those needs.”

           “Like the lotuses from the Odyssey…” Diana crosses her arms, studying the field. “It took all of Odysseus’s willpower to resist that temptation. I’m sure if we stride forward, we can resist the effects long enough to activate the ship’s defenses.”

           John shakes his head, “That’s too risky Diana. You heard my ring; it can be absorbed through the skin. We need to think of another way.” His ring darkens briefly, shield glitching. A few spores burst through that the group are careful in avoiding. “And think of it fast.”

           “Hey,” Clark says, looking around the bubble, “Where’s J’onn?”

           A tiny explosion draws their attention. One section of the vines holding their ship captive bursts into flames, the flowers withering into ash. “Apologies,” J’onn speaks in their minds, calm as ever, “I figured taking action was the best possible course rather than discuss it. Since I can become intangible and have laser vision… it will not be too difficult clearing this away.”

           “That… makes sense.” John smirks, shrugging, “Carry on then.”

           J’onn mows through the plants while the others wait, contemplating how they can disperse the remaining pollen. When the Martian telepathically communicates his accomplishment, John brings down the shield. Clark blows once the first hole appears, scattering the yellow dots everywhere except their ship.

           “Bruce and Barry, J’onn?” John asks, “Are they still inside?”

           He lands beside them by the bay doors, fully visible and solid. “I can definitely sense them, but their thoughts are still muddled… my best guess, there remains an abundance of pollen within the ship.”

           “Can’t incinerate that without blowing up the ship…” John presses his ring against the metal, pouring all his willpower into the flickering jewelry. “Ring, do you have enough power to connect with the ship’s systems and activate the air filtration system?” It beeps once, a ‘yes’ without risking energy. He waits. Listens while the Javelin rattles and wheezes. His friends stand clustered behind him, their presence a necessary anchor while he remains focused on his ring.

           Finally, it beeps again. “Cabin air has been recycled. All outside toxins are safely stored for disposal. Power at zero percent.”

           John sags, Clark catching him. “You did good, John.”

           “Don’t feel too good.”

           “You need your rest,” she says, “which you will get once we’re back on ship. Although… first we should check on our friends. Make sure they’re fine.”

           Clark snickers under breath, muttering. “Bruce… high on space weed… this I have to see…”

           The group climb aboard their ship, careful stepping over the ashen remains of flowers caught in J’onn’s laser vision. Soon the ash lessens, replaced with discarded wrappers and bottles the closer they move towards the cockpit. Hushed laughter reaches their ears from behind the door, each of them exchanging looks. Diana, at the front, hits the panel that opens it.

           Bruce and Barry, both naked, turn from their seats at the head of the cockpit. Barry’s foot rested in Bruce’s hands, mid-massage, while their faces were blank and muddied due to the pollen’s effects. The last two flowers rested in their hair.

           “Hey,” Bruce says, turning and showing off his genitals, “welcome to the party.”

           Clark nearly drops John from the shock, grip slack. But then it becomes too tight, Clark gazing at the machinery on the side instead of at his friend’s unabashed display.

           “Bruce, Barry,” Diana coughs, gracefully composed given the situation, “are either of you… okay?”

           They exchange twin looks of confusion, Barry pointing at himself and asking, “Are you talking to us?”

           “Christ,” Clark hisses, John’s bones straining under his hold, “what did they get up to while we were out?”

           John takes in the discarded clothing, especially Bruce’s soiled cape, and pieces a few visuals together. He shudders once its complete. “Nothing we should ever think about again. Ever.” He clears his throat, “J’onn? Can you handle… whatever this is?”

           “I can remove the flowers, but do not believe my powers can shake them from this stupor.”

           “Allow me,” she tells the others, brandishing her lasso, “I would like to try something.”

           J’onn nods, disappearing through the floor. Bruce and Barry crow with glee, latter applauding his trick. In the next breath he appears behind them on the outside of the Javelin. He removes their accessories, safely dumping them before their pollen could release.

           With those gone, Diana tosses her lasso on the parts where their bodies are the closest: Bruce’s hand and Barry’s foot. She pulls tight, wrapping the excess around her knuckles. “Listen to me friends,” Diana croons, soft and gentle as if she coaxes woodland creatures into the light. “Remember who you really are. Let the golden perfect wash away what has been done to you, so you can return.”

           Her lasso glows with godly light, John’s vision overcome. He closes his eyes, but the light penetrates it still. Suddenly it disappears, and he blinks away the spots. In their seats, Bruce and Barry sit slumped over and unconscious. Diana gathers her lasso, clipping it onto her belt. “If this works, they should be themselves again.”

           Barry awakens first. His head jumps up and his gaze bounces around the room with lightning speed. “The mission,” he asks, standing, “what happened with the –“ He steps on a lone boot, and that helps Barry realize his current state. “Holy -!” Collapsing on the seat, Barry snatches the boot and covers his waist. Curls in on himself, thinking it might help. Splotchy redness spreads over his shoulders and knees.

           They already saw enough.

           Bruce follows soon after, face darkening as he stares at his exposed genitalia. He growls low in his throat, “What… happened.”

           “You were under the influence of the local flora,” J’onn tells them, “and it caused you to… well –“

           “You were space stoned!” Clark rips the band-aid off, earning more of the ire Bruce originally shot Barry’s way. “Can you,” he turns his head, “Can you please go put your clothes back on?”

           He stands, collecting the fallen pieces of his costume. Folds the cape without addressing the obvious stain on it. Then Bruce storms out of the cockpit, a noticeable blush highlighting the roundness of his cheeks.

           J’onn places a hand on Barry’s shoulder, startling him. “You should probably get dressed, too.”

           “Yep!” Barry nods, “Yeah, I’ll… if you will all excuse me.” Because of his powers, no one sees Barry leave. Absence marked by the empty chair and invisible uniform.

           John rips himself free from Clark’s grip, taking seat at the helm. “While they… freshen up, we should probably begin take-off. Otherwise we’ll be trapped with more of those flowers and who knows what else.” He flips a few switches, careful with his touch. “J’onn? Can you co-pilot?”

           “Of course.”

           Clark and Diana fall in behind them, a heated discussion brewing between them. John eavesdrops, muscles in control of following through the procedures.

           “So, what does this mean for our bet?”

           “What do you mean?”

           “Well, Bruce and Barry did it. But… does it count?”          

           “I don’t see why it shouldn’t?”

           “Because they were under the influence of a plant. Did what they do really come from them acting on repressed feelings or because the pollen made them sexually charged and they were the only ones here?”

           “That shouldn’t discount what happened. It’d be the same if they got drunk or high on Earth… if Barry could get drunk, or high, that is…”

           John sighs, flipping the final switch on the console. He drags the yoke close to his chest, steady while the Javelin rises. “I think it should count,” John adds, startling Clark and Diana, “that way I get my money. Why do you think I made them stay behind anyway?”

[evergreen-dryad]

old bnha wip #3 (kacchako)

In which a cheerful witch drags a resentful grouch of a brawler on a sidequest to hunt down spirits across the old sites of the country. It'll be fun, she said. . She never told him exactly what she was running away from.

It’s too late now. Blood drips off the blade that sunk into her, silently. Blood wells from the wound punctured into her, like ink spreading through paper.

The weapon slides out of her. Mouthless, Katsuki watches her body fall. He sees it all too clearly — the light from the flames afford no mercy. As if through treacle, he lunges before she can tumble to the ground.

The assassin looks at him, clearly amused. A snide little smile briefly rolls over their — no, her— face before it disappears. All the while, the strange curved blade glints purple as it soaks up the blood greedily.

The spell breaks as she breaks into a gleeful laugh.

(This is no assassin, now with the way she’s carrying herself. This is a hyena.)

“Get away from her,” His voice finally breaks through.

"Aww, look at you, all pale," she snarls through a wide grin, a finger on her chin, dagger wending through her hair. “I like the way your face looks like now,” said as casually as you please — as if she hadn’t just blotted out the world. The light in it. Ochako’s smile briefly flashes before his eyes and he feels it as keenly as a knife.

As if the world hadn’t stopped turning, when it clearly had for Katsuki.

* “Hey—” Katsuki, who had just been sharpening the blade of his axe, thank you, just started grinding faster.

“Hello, I’m trying to talk to you—” God, this one was not going away.

“What do you want,” he bit out, never stopping in his motion. The scraping screech never stopped. But that didn’t deter the determined smile in this one’s face.

“Quest!” She said it clearly, like the ding of a nail. Just like the fucking blacksmith’s son next door. A scowl foamed from Katsuki. “What does that have to do with me, ha?”

“I’m looking for a partner to go looking for spirits with me,” She cheerily told him in that annoying way like she’s about to rub an elbow in his ribs. “So come questing with me-”

“No.” He didn’t even need to waste his breath. What was he still doing here? At that he started to get up from his slouch on the ground, picking up the whetstone and his weapon.

“Aw, come on, please?” She stepped in front of him, cloak swishing around her ankles, tawdry at the edges.

He stood and glared at her, arms crossed. “I don’t play games, Round-Face.”

He sneered at her, squinting at her gait, trying to work her out. He’d seen her around the village for sure, but who was she again?

She had no clear weapons on her. An utility belt of leather, and a long object bound to her back. His eyes narrowed. One from the mage community then?

She smiled, reading his gaze. “I’m a witch, yes. Would it really kill you to go on one side-quest, Bakugou?”

“I don’t even fucking know your name, or your abilities, or why this should be worth my time,” he snapped, suddenly furious. Not that he wasn’t already simmering at the bit, constantly irritated by all the damn NPCs that kept trying to make small talk with him. “We are not even friends.”

“I’m Uraraka Ochako, remember that thank you. We met just a year ago at the marketplace and our families have traded a few commodities. You know perfectly well what witches can do.” She smiled at him, assured of herself. That pissed him off. Who freaking cared about all these common people’s backstories?

A teasing glint stole into her eyes as she tilted her head a little to the side.“You’re not the first ghosthunting companion I’d want either,” she’d sighed, almost pouting.

“THEN?” He fumed. “What the hell are you doing bothering me?” He almost wanted to strike the rude wench.

“Because you seem like the perfect complement to my abilities, and also!” She pointed a finger at him, making him lean back in distaste. “You’re fierce enough to scare any bad spirits away!”

“CALL ME SCARY, HA?” He gave into the urge to snap, a frown twisting up his face. Clank, goes his axe as he throws it to the ground.

She laughed. She seemed to find it — him, funny. “Yup, exactly like that!”

* There’s no one who can help them in this wilderness. The nearest healer happens to be the one who’s dead right now.

The killer had sauntered away easily enough. Seemed like she'd gotten what she'd wanted.

Mouth dry, Katsuki finally breaks. He screams — finally lets out the hoarse cry that’s been building in his throat since her body flashed in front of him. Holds her up to the light of the fire. But he already knows she’s beyond hope now. Because: “What the fuck, Uraraka?!” How dare she go dying on him? What the hell??

It’s all he can do to hold it together. He’s so angry he doesn’t even know how to begin. (Don’t die for me you nitwit you idiot you round-faced mess of a witch why I’m the warrior in your party?!)

Healers stay in the back, bring up the rear for a reason. And she just did the stupidest fucking thing he's ever heard of in this life.

* “No. I’m focusing on the Main Quest,” he barked. Only two of the scattered Treasures had been recovered in the realm — long ago, the king had issued a proclamation for all young and able to aid in seeking them out. Many of the adventurous had stepped up, for the promise of glory and riches. And of course, immortality.

Travelers and merchants had whispered of various parties of people, bravely searching and fighting come what may, what lies yonder over the forests and mountains.

Here lie dragons, and they were slayed, and the treasure returned.

For what is man without trying to leave a mark, before the waves of time wipe the sands of history clean?

Bakugou Katsuki, son of tailors Masaru and Mitsuki, was singlemindedly determined to be the Greatest Champion of them all.

“Living is just as important,” she chided, steps light beside his, hands swinging side to side as she followed him. Irritated, he increased his pace, but she never backed down.

“Not all of us want to slave away like mindless soldiers for the realm, you know. What would uniting all the Treasures do anyway? Does anyone know?” She squinted at him. “We don’t even know what they look or smell or feel like, most of us common people that is. For all we know it’s faded into myth now,” she continued, turning her palm to stare at its lines.

Aware of his increasing outrage, she turned to look at him with an easy, almost sheepish grin. “Not that I don’t want to, too. I just need to focus on my family first. And that means going on these quests with actual material returns.” She stared at him, awaiting his answer.

* Never told him there was a killer waltzing around waiting to wear her face, what the fuck.

He cradles her face, from the slight gash on her forehead, to the line of her jaw. He’d barely managed to save it.

* spirit quest camp shenanigans “That wasn’t so bad now, right, Bakugou?” The cheery little chit that’s the witch beside him — who dragged them out here in the middle of fucking nowhere in the first place — even has the damned energy to smile. Who the heck huffs a laugh like that while trying to act all patronising — you know what, scratch that thought. He’s met a-plenty who do that. Try to sweeten him up with honeyed words, when looks, material wealth doesn’t impress, doesn’t sway him to their side.

He bites. “That,” he said, “was too fucking tedious.” He shot her the stinkeye as they, of accord, settle down against the cool stone of the temple and start to set up camp. “We’re not done yet, are we,” he snarked, poisonous. He began sorting through the provisions they have on hand — and what loot they’d managed to gather.

Trailing ghosts for their items, ugh. What a waste of time

Let her collect the firewood, he’s had enough of the backbreaking work for today.

* “You know,” she began, out of the blue one day. They had just finished dinner, and she was staring wistfully up at the sky, fingers steepled beneath her chin. “You know what I said before about you not being who I’d choose as a partner? I take that back.”

Katsuki who had just grunted to show he was listening, found himself nearly spluttering. Whether from indignation or of shock he wasn’t sure. “Oh now you do?” What did I do now, his eyebrows knitted, but he couldn’t be bothered to ask.

She smiled at him, almost fond. “Yeah. You,” She began, only to stop again, seemingly at a loss of words.

Katsuki let a smirk spread over his face. “Yeah go on?”

She shot a look at him, almost an eyeroll. “Back then, I decided on you not because of your… lovely personality,” she hid a cough of laughter after a sideeye from him, “but because I decided — I guess I’d unconsciously decided I wanted someone who could watch my back.” She hesitated again, but briefer this time. “Someone who would definitely be able to fight on their own.”

“Basically you wanted to ride someone’s coattails,” he said drolly.

She flushed. “That may be right but all the same, I also knew I wanted to be stronger, so I thought I shouldn’t go for someone too kind. Someone who’d keep kicking me to get better. Someone,” she paused, glancing at him, “I admire a lot, and can work hard with.”

Katsuki felt his face freeze before he launched into a wide, cocky grin. “Oho, you sure are singing my praises today.”

She finally gave in to rolling her eyes. “I was trying to say you’re not so bad after all, despite being a stubborn arse toerag who keeps shouting till all the birds flee from all the explosions you make. So thank you, for coming along.” She finished with a single arch of her eyebrow. “And anyway, you’re pretty funny when you lose your temper, so thanks for the laughs.”

* Dusk is falling. The light paints the clouds orange, as they begin to slow down, breaths shuddering.

They’ve been hunting all day.

They’re somewhere off the beaten path back to the nearest village — the trees tower all around them, and shadows fall fast here. Night is fast approaching. They definitely can’t make it back to the lights of civilisation in time.

The voice is as sudden as it is disconcerting.

“Found you, my little bird~”

Ochako turns, and her face freezes. It’s as if she’s seen a ghost. “You—”

Katsuki doesn’t need to know any more than that. He whips out his weapon and swings it at their head, but—

—as easily as a breath they’ve sidestepped him. A small blade whisks by his cheek, taking some skin off — irritating him even more. He roars and rushes back in, only to be thwarted by this assailant’s constant darting all over the place. “What the fuck—”

“Katsuki!” He dimly hears Ochako cry out through the blood pumping in his head. “Stop! We need to regroup—”

“SHUT UP! I can settle this!” He yells back. What the hell, didn’t she trust him? The sudden annoyance sours within him, fueling his rage, his need to go all out. He swings the blade of his hatchet once more at the head of the attacker, before aiming a punch.

It hits, but he does not count for the momentum of the movement throwing him off-balance for a kilter. It’s enough for them to dart by and—

Katsuki readies his guard—

Only to realise a split-second later that they had never meant to fight him in the beginning.

Ochako gurgles, a pained breath hissing out, hands splayed out for a spell that couldn’t form quick enough. Light crumbles from her fingertips.

* -sequence where with last dying breath ochako transfers lifesource to him- -flashback where ochako uses skill- -katsuki tries to do the same despite knowing she’s gone but he doesn’t know what to do anymore- -he just shuts down after that, the realisation she’s not coming back- -only enough to bring her body back to the parents if close enough-/bury if not ~ "I'll come back for you one day, Katsuki," She singsongs, sickeningly sweet, before she deigns to take her departure. "Remember my name! I'm Toga Himiko!"

He spits after her.

Never. She's a killer, that's all she is.

He throws himself into fighting mindlessly. Katsuki does not deviate from his path of destruction — never thinking of the heart he always tried too hard to run from.

//and since I’m at it I might as well yeet out this fantasy au outline I had for kacchako, was prompted angst, did not get round to writing how they bond and such.

...it was 2018 when I wrote it, pretty unlikely I’ll write it anymore, so enjoy? :D

[awesometheydontknowiamhere]

Burning Up

Requested By Anonymous:  Can you do a Diego smut where it’s a real hot day and so the reader walks around in barely anything,, and it turns him on and smut goes on from there MAKE IT DIRTYYYY,,please

Summary: Reader wakes up from a nap and begins her weekend household chores when Diego wakes up to find her in next to nothing. Him and his wandering hands join the Reader, a lot of sneaky touches under the pretext of cleaning. They end up together on the kitchen counter. Smut ensues. Also, a sneak peak at Domestic Diego and Fluff Ball Diego.

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Diego Hargreaves X Reader

A/N: Here I am, with my first ever requested fic. Apologies to Anon if this isn’t what you had envisioned. I tried my best to deliver. 

Picture credit goes to the man himself ♥️

Words: 1433. Oops.

Warnings: Smut. Language (a little bit). Temperature play ( just ice).

Diego Hargreaves Tag list: @imultifandomstuff @w0nder-marie@chloemac86 @theladywholivesonthemoon   @hemogoblin-s  @pansexualpaperdragons @gorgeourrific-nerd @purplezebra68 @vividholland@bands-and-shietz @onlydeanandjensen @slither-in-a-half @reblogserpent@missscarlett1802 @lovelyheadrush @sippin-on-all-this-tea @mrsdiegohargreeves @lostsoldieronahill  @katylovescats @vividholland @lilithsweetghost @ratfuckb0y @siriusjohnpotter

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

You cursed under your breath as you looked down at your shirt. You had to take it off, now that you spilled water on it. You pulled it over your head, missing the cool respite it brought against the soaring heat. You walked over to the laundry basket and chose a clean cropped camisole, an apt choice for sweaty household chores.

You looked around at the living room and began picking up the empty pizza boxes from the previous night, considering you wanted to get a head start before Diego woke up.

An hour passed and living room floor emerged from under throw pillows, strewn novels and random items of clothing.

You walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. You chugged one down and placed the other on your hot neck. You closed your eyes in bliss and moved the bottle across your chest, skimming over your collar bones.

"I have never been this jealous of a water bottle in my entire life."

"Diego, you're up!"

You walked up to him and placed a peck on his lips before returning to the bottle.

"Whoa! Babe, you can't give me a tiny taste and walk away like that."

He wrapped his arms around your bare waist and pulled you to him. You giggled as he placed tiny kisses on your neck, travelling to your shoulders.

He hooked a finger under the noodle thin straps of your top and you playfully smacked his hand away.

"Hands off the merchandise! We need to clean up this mess, ensure we can have our impromptu nap sessions without these paper plates sticking our backs."

"Can a man help himself when his girl is wearing next to nothing, looking like a snack? I am almost certain that my utility belt covers more surface area than that," he said with a chuckle.

"Shut it, smart ass. Less chit-chat, put those hands to work now and maybe I'll put mine to work later," you said with a wink.

A long hour passed and the only shelving of your groceries was left. Your black on black combo had compelled Diego to act like horny teenager, his hands seeking you at every possible opportunity.

You played along, humoring him when he tucked you under his chin and vacuumed the carpet, his hand resting on your nearly bare butt.

A swat on your butt, a nibble on your earlobe, you grew antsier with each touch. At one point, you considered dragging him to nearest horizontal surface, to hell with the groceries, but thought against it. You were enjoying Diego's not so accidental touches far too much to stop.

You bent down to pick up a bag and heard a sharp intake of breath. You turned around to see him appreciatively glancing at your butt.

Placing a hand on his chest, you whispered in his ears," Enjoying what you see?"

A dark look crossed his features.

"That's it. Turn around, hands on the counter, please."

Your breath caught in your throat, playtime was over.

"The longest fucking hour of my life, Y/N," Diego growled in your ear.

You waited eagerly. He wasn't touching you but you could feel him behind him. He took something from the fridge and shut, something that rattled against its container.

You felt him move closer to you and squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation.

Diego placed his hands on your waist, his fingers walking over the band of your pants. You purred and leaned back into him.

"Someone's getting hungry," he chuckled, “your turn is over, the ball is in my court now."

His palms cupped your clothed breasts. You pushed into his hands and he dropped them to your hips. Sliding your hair over your shoulder, he kissed a path from the base of your neck to your earlobes.

"Liking the taste of your medicine?"

You began to speak when he flipped you around and captured your answer with his lips. His tongue snaked past your barriers, weakening your knees.

Between his rock hard body and the kitchen counter, you found both, support and relief.

Your hands landed on his chests but he pulled them off and pinned them to your side.

Not one to waste time or words, he gave you a sharp look, fixing you in your spot. He made quick work of your clothes and then his.

"Close your eyes."

A second later you felt his hot tongue flick over your nipple. You hummed at the sensation of his wicked lips. An arm around your waist, his free hand met your lonely breast, his fingers taunting the flesh around your intrigued peaks.

You pressed your thighs together, the moisture of his tongue mimicked at your core.

He stood up to his full height, looking into your eyes. His forehead rested against yours.

You stood down, anticipating a kiss, but little did you know that he had a different kind of kiss planned.

He kissed the tip of your nose, a gesture contrasting his rough demeanor while his fingers slipped into your hot folds. His digits separated them, spreading your moisture around. His first brush with your clit sent a jolt through your body. You grabbed his shoulders, your heart racing.

He smirked and repeated the motion, his fingers playing your body like a well-tuned guitar.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, leaning into him.

"Aah!"

A sudden shock woke you up. It took you a moment to identify it, but not before Diego repeated it a few more times. Each time the odd sensation touched you, it burned you up. You realized that his weapon was a melting cube of ice.

You looked down to see him rub a dripping ice cube up your slit, and your legs turned into jelly.

He placed it back in a discreet bowl and lifted you up onto the countertop.

Nibbling at your neck, he whispered dirty nothings in your ear. With a soft push, he laid you on your back, your legs ending up on his shoulders.

A singular moan escaped your lips at a single stroke of his tongue over your slit. His mouth spoke a contemporary language at the junction of your thighs. Your body replied, bucking off the flat surface while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He placed his arm across your midriff, tethering you to the cool countertops.

He kissed the inside of your thighs and you thoroughly enjoyed the sensory contrast of his two-day old scruff. He turned his attention to your other thigh, giving it the same TLC.

You ran your fingers through his hair, coming to rest at the base of his hair.

His tongue returned to your clit. The heels of your feet dug into back as he pushed a cold finger into your hot depths.

You clenched around his icy digit, his vocal vibration transcending through your core.

A cold thumb stroked your bundle of nerves and a steady stream of moans peppered with expletives shot out of your lips.

The altering sensations of cold and warmth, soft and hard, suckling and pulsing, pushed you to the brink of your orgasm.

"Diego, ple-... I need to..."

You couldn't complete your sentence as his skilled fingers snatched away your chain of thought. You were on the edge, a few thrusts away, when he withdrew his hands and unhooked your legs from his shoulders.

"What are y-"

His fingers interrupted your complaint.

He leaned across the counter to fetch a condom from his wallet and slipped it on.

You were getting fidgety, so close yet so far.

He locked his fingers with yours and buried himself in one smooth thrust.

"Oh God! Fuck yes, baby."

You came on his cock, writhing under his sinewy body. When you came to, you realized you were crushing his fingers.

Before you got a chance to say anything, he started his sweet assault again. Pulling out completely and reentering, he pushed against your walls.

You started matching his thrusts, eliciting unholy moans from his lips.

"Y/N, my love, I am almost there," he whispered.

He pounded into you, intent on bringing you both to climax together. Your hand reached the junction of your cores, rubbing yourself.

The next minute was a blur; you weren't sure who triggered who's orgasm. A wave of mutual pleasure broke over your bodies amid the constant chanting of each other's names.

When he finally regained composure, he pulled out and disposed the condom in the trash can.

Picking you up in his arms, he announced with a cheeky smile,  "Well, that was worth the wait."

[addicted-to-dc]

I’m Supposed To Be Fighting You (Jason Todd/Red X X Reader)- Part 7

Welp, here it is as promised! Sorry for the lack of tags, but I think I’m just not gonna do that anymore. I still can’t find my list... whoops. Anyway, enjoy and please leave some feedback!!!

Warnings: Angst as usual, mentions of torture and death, violence, etc. 

Word Count: 1747

Robin had the team searching all over the city for you, searching for any indication of your whereabouts. Luckily Cyborg was able to put together a tracking device of sorts, built mainly to detect the energy disturbance you create while teleporting. Landing on a roof, Cyborg quickly walked over to where you had been. He sighed, shaking his head towards the team.

“This is two hours old, (Y/N) could be anywhere by know,” he said, pocketing the tracker. “If we want to find her, I need to increase the distance this tracker can cover.”

Robin scowled, walking over to the edge of the building. Where would you go? That’s one thing that he hated about having a new team member, the lack of information he knew about you. You kept your secrets well, and his reluctance to push any further has come to bite him in the ass. He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down enough to think. As soon as he smelled it, he knew how they could find you.

“Cyborg, can you track Xenothium?” Robin asked, turning back towards the group. “It has a less subtle energy disturbance than (Y/N)’s.”

“Why do you want to track Red X?” Raven asked. “This is about (Y/N), not-”

“I’ve got a hit,” Cyborg interrupted, a shocked expression appearing on his face. “It’s here, but that means-”

“(Y/N) is with him,” Robin revealed, staring at the group. “How could I be so blind?”

“We could be jumping to conclusions,” Beast Boy said, looking around the group. “He could have kidnapped her, saw it as an opportunity to capture a member of the team.”

“Friend (Y/N) would never do such a thing,” Starfire stated, flying over to Robin. “Robin, what should we do?”

“We’ll find out where they are, and whether she is allied with him or not, we’re going to get answers.”

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

At first it was odd to stay with Jason, but the more you experienced with him the more you understood why you preferred it here. Here you did not have to map out your actions, your words, hell, your own thoughts in order to belong. It felt freeing to be able to drop the filter, but there still was the fear of the loose ends you had. How Gizmo found your classified file was a mystery to you, but if a bratty HIVE agent is able to identify you, there was no doubt that your past will indeed come to kill you soon. You got sloppy, and now that will cost your life and the lives of others as well. Now you not only had the Titans most likely looking for you, you were going to have the government back on your trail as well.

“I need to disappear,” you blurted, making Jason freeze.

He placed his tools down, “Is this about the Titans or something else?”

“Everything, concerning every single person that I have ever interacted with,” you said, cursing your stupidity. “The group I was apart of so many years ago will be looking for me now that they know I’m alive, I’ll be gutted like a fish if I don’t disappear soon, or worse.”

You shivered at the thought of working for them again, but that was pushing your luck. No, they would take you back to the very room you were supposed to die and subject you to every torture method they knew. If that didn’t satiate their blood lust, then they would do whatever they wanted to you for good measure. They may be a branch of the government, but they abide no laws or morals, especially when it comes to a traitor in their ranks.

“Then we’ll disappear,” he said, “and leave this city behind. There’s nothing holding us back from leaving right now, but there is one thing that I want to know before we do this.”

“What?” you asked, unsure what he was going to ask.

“Are you ready to leave the hero life behind?” he questioned you, grasping your hands. “You’ve worked so hard to build this, are you ready to come to the dark side for your survival? Are you willing to kill again to prove to them that you are not just a child soldier that can be used and discarded like trash?”

“Where is this coming from, Jason?” you asked, his words seeming too personal.

He sighed, “You aren’t the only one with a bad past, (Y/N)... I was once the Bat’s sidekick, I was a Robin, and I got killed because of it.”

“What…?”

You had no words, watching as Jason struggled with his words.

“I was killed by the Joker, (Y/N), and I was brought back by-”

“Ra’s al-Ghul,” you finished for him, tightening your grip on his hands. “You’re not the only one.”

You thought back on the night you were killed, your body feeling so numb and cold as they fired the last bullet. The only warmth you had was the cooling blood underneath you, but not even that could provide any relief. Your body was screaming, telling you to teleport out of there and find help. You were too focused on your wounds to notice someone had started dragging you into a body bag, the world fading to black as you finally felt peace. It felt like an eternity when it disappeared from your grasp. You remembered nothing but screams, the color green, and burning when you came back, your flesh repairing itself at an inhuman rate. You did not know how long you were in that pool of glowing green, but you knew that there was someone else in there with you. Now you know that someone was Jason.

“You were there, too, weren’t you?” you asked him. “That night when we both came back?”

He nodded, “When I saw your face next to the Titans’, (Y/N), I couldn’t stop myself from finding you. I’m sorry that I kept this from you, but I had to be sure-”

You placed a finger on his lips, “I understand, Jason, and the answer is yes.”

“You mean it?” he whispered, his eyes staring into yours.

You nodded, “It’s time for me to stop running from who I am, and with you, I feel like nothing can touch us.”

“I have a gift for you,” he said, removing his hands from yours. “It’s been ready for you for awhile.”

You watched as he grabbed a box a few feet away from you, returning to give it to you. Opening it, you grabbed the black helmet and examined it, the white skull on it contrasting greatly against the black. Placing it next to you, you dug deeper into the box and pulled out a uniform. The black and grey Kevlar and armor was better than military grade, that’s for sure.

He turned around, “Go ahead, try it on.”

Placing the box down, you quickly changed into the uniform, looking in the box one more time to grab the gloves, boots and other gear to grab what you missed. You cleared your throat, indicating he could turn around. He turned around, smiling at the sight of you.

“I knew it would fit,” he said, fixing a few spots of the armor before grasping the helmet. “This helmet is equipped with everything we need, and it will hide your identity.”

“I’m guessing you made yourself some upgrades as well,” you guessed, gesturing to the box that was next to yours. “Matching uniforms?”

“Hell no,” he replied, beginning to tear off his Red X uniform right in front of you.

You quickly turned around, your face burning as he chuckled at your response. It was a few minutes before he tapped your shoulder, allowing you to finally see what he looked like. He was wearing a similar uniform to you, but his helmet was entirely red, a black ‘x’ etched into the helmet’s exterior. He was wearing a black leather jacket, also holding one in his hand.

“You can’t complete the outfit without some leather,” he chuckled, tossing it to you. “It has a bunch of goodies and extra body armor included.”

You slipped it on, “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

He paused for a moment, “Yup.”

You grabbed your helmet and slid it on, watching as the many applications opened around you. As you looked around, you confirmed that the helmet tracked your eye movements. You were too focused on exploring the helmet’s capabilities to notice Jason snaking his hands around your waist, securing your utility belt to your pants. The clicks of him securing the holsters to your thighs kicked you out of your thoughts, watching as he secured the last buckle. You would have blushed, but all you could feel was excitement as he stood back up. He picked up two of the four guns from the table, holding them out for you to take.

“Are they lethal?” you asked, taking one of them.

“They can be either,” he replied, watching as you analyzed the gun. “They use Xenothium as power, you only need to adjust its concentration to make it lethal.”

You took the other, placing them both in their respective holsters before securing them, “How long do the cores last?”

“Depending on how many encounters we have? Probably a year before they run out of juice,” he replied, placing his own guns in their holsters. “You ready to go?”

“Always,” you replied, placing your hand in his.

Just as he was about to teleport, the wall behind you exploded, making the two of you take cover behind his work bench. Jason pressed a button on his helmet, quickly pressing one on yours as well. As soon as the display on your screen changed, you knew it was thermal vision. Your reflexes took control, making you grab your guns and provide cover fire for Jason, running to a pillar before rolling behind it. Jason teleported onto the second floor, his location appearing on your screen as you surveyed the area. Soon enough Robin was swinging his bo staff at you, the metal clinging off of the guards on your forearms.

“Above you,” you heard Jason, kicking Robin away in time to catch the staff Jason had thrown at you.

Flipping away, you avoided a few blasts from Starfire and Cyborg as you finally teleported to Jason’s side, preparing for the battle you dreaded ever since you joined the team.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #218

Thu Sep 12 2019 [10:54 PM] Wack'd: So uh, this continues from Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man Vol 1 No 42 [10:55 PM] Bocaj: gonna pop over to it or just read a synopsis on marvel wiki? [10:55 PM] Wack'd: Marvel Wiki [10:55 PM] Bocaj: That’s the spirit [10:56 PM] Wack'd: From now on I'm gonna check there to see if the Four actually appear in the prior issue [10:56 PM] Wack'd: Thanks to the Nova debacle [10:57 PM] Wack'd: Basically all we need to know if that the Frightful Four--having slotted Electro in as their fourth--kidnapped Spider-Man and plot to use him to destroy the Four [10:58 PM] Wack'd: As we speak, Pete is wearing Peter's (oh, this won't get confusing) costume to scale the Baxter, hoping to trip an alarm [10:59 PM] Wack'd: While Wizard, Flint, and *googles* Max wait patiently in a nearby hovercraft with a tied-up Peter [10:59 PM] maxwellelvis: Just call him Trapster. [11:01 PM] Wack'd: It occurs to me that Pete's paste and Peter's webbing are basically the same thing, one is just less versatile than the other

[11:01 PM] Wack'd: It'd be funny if Pete was like "fire his webshooters!" and a massive stream of paste shot out of his wrist [11:02 PM] Bocaj: "AND DISRESPECT MY HERITAGE? I WILL ADDRESS HIM WITH THE NAME GIVEN TO HIM BY THE GLORIOUS LEE AND KIRBY! PASTE POT PETE PASTE POT PETE" [11:02 PM] Wack'd: Look if I'm gonna call the Four Reed, Sue, Johnny and Ben it feels weird not to extend that to every character [11:02 PM] Wack'd: Though it occurs Pete might not be his real name and I've thoroughly fudged this [11:03 PM] Bocaj: Peter Petruski [11:03 PM] Wack'd: Oh good [11:04 PM] Wack'd: So Johnny finally notices something's up, lets "Spider-Man" in. And then Pete beats Johnny over the head while he's getting into costume [11:05 PM] Wack'd: Then heads off to take care of the rest of the--hang on [11:06 PM] Wack'd: Is the plot of this issue that Pete single-handedly defeats the Fantastic Four? [11:06 PM] Wack'd: That's delightful [11:06 PM] Wack'd: Where's Paste-Pot Pete Beats Up the Marvel Universe, huh? I'd read the fuck out of that [11:06 PM] maxwellelvis: I hope he beats all of them by just sucker-punches, cheap shots, and lucky breaks [11:07 PM] maxwellelvis: It's the only way he should win. [11:07 PM] Wack'd:

[11:07 PM] Wack'd: Dude's apparently got some moves! [11:08 PM] Bocaj: Hey, glue is the most dangerous weapon. [11:08 PM] maxwellelvis: Finally, someone remembers the Spider-Signal! [11:08 PM] Bocaj: Baron Zemo used glue to beat the whole Avengers [11:08 PM] Bocaj: Until they used the magic of 'a solvent' [11:08 PM] maxwellelvis: Peter's utility belt is so rarely used [11:08 PM] Bocaj: Actually provided by Paste Pot Pete! [11:08 PM] maxwellelvis: A solvent that only Past-Pot Pete could have come up with [11:08 PM] Wack'd: Hahaha. Pete tricks Ben into punching a wall panel, which electrocutes him [11:08 PM] Bocaj: wow [11:08 PM] Wack'd: Two down! [11:09 PM] Wack'd: Not only that, but the circuit was the manual override for the building's security [11:09 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, but those two were the easy ones [11:09 PM] Wack'd: Were they?! [11:09 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah [11:09 PM] maxwellelvis: They're much easier to provoke, Ben and Johnny [11:09 PM] Bocaj: how is reed not the easy one by default [11:10 PM] maxwellelvis: Reed's a lot more cool-headed unless his family is in immediate danger, and Sue has the greatest power of all: Common sense [11:10 PM] Wack'd: Easier to provoke but also traditionally the powerhouses of the Four. Let's not forget last time the Frightfuls showed up they basically wet themselves when they realized they'd only captured Reed and Sue [11:11 PM] Wack'd: Wizard: clearly the Reed of this bunch

[11:12 PM] Wack'd: Which makes Pete the Sue--constantly ordered around and underestimated [11:12 PM] Wack'd: Flint is Ben, obviously. A hothead who loves to fight [11:12 PM] maxwellelvis: So I take it Sandman's the one who roped Electro into this? [11:12 PM] Wack'd: And then a rotating fourth to parallel Johnny's capriciousness [11:13 PM] Wack'd: @maxwellelvis *shrug* [11:13 PM] maxwellelvis: Which is funny because up until now that's where the person who can match Ben tends to end up. [11:13 PM] Wack'd: True [11:14 PM] maxwellelvis: Medusa's hair renders his strength of no aid to him, and Thundra's a match for him physically. [11:15 PM] Wack'd: Sue: "I better go get my husband to fuck me. Also, I better go see why my kid brother is making moaning noises in the dead of night"

[11:16 PM] Bocaj: Thaaaaaats [11:16 PM] Bocaj: an unfortunate juxtaposition [11:16 PM] Bocaj: These two panels bad [11:16 PM] maxwellelvis: "*ReEeEeEd! I'm wearing the nightie with the unstable molecules!" [11:17 PM] Wack'd: "All of your nighties have unstable molecules, in case of--" "Reed shut up and get in here" [11:17 PM] maxwellelvis: Send those panels to Superdickery! To Superdickery's Tumblr page because I'm pretty sure the website is still a nesting ground for viruses [11:17 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Johnny is tied up in paste and the moment Sue realizes what’s happened Sandman grabs her [11:18 PM] Wack'd: Hey. Hey max

[11:18 PM] maxwellelvis: Womp womp womp [11:19 PM] maxwellelvis: "She took my squeezing arm!" [11:19 PM] Wack'd: ...can Max do that? I feel like Max can't do that

[11:20 PM] maxwellelvis: He can do whatever the plot says he can do. Electro is one of those villains whose powers should be way more broken than they usually are. [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Like that's not even the most broken thing I've seen him do. [11:21 PM] Bocaj: CARBONIZING THE AIR [11:21 PM] Wack'd: Like a tree do! [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Yeah, sure, Wizard. Your plan. [11:21 PM] Bocaj: even if that is a thing that made sense, the layer of carbonized air thats hard as a rock is thin as a sheet of paper [11:21 PM] Bocaj: You could lightly poke it and it'd break [11:22 PM] Wack'd: You know how trees turn people into living statues? Or, actually they oxidize the air, hang on [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Breathing. Max has described breathing. [11:22 PM] Bocaj: oh my god [11:22 PM] maxwellelvis: Please just call him Electro [11:22 PM] Wack'd: ...oh my god [11:23 PM] Wack'd: Alright, max, for you I'll make an exception [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: Did you not realize that until just now? [11:23 PM] Wack'd: Nooooope [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: Wow [11:23 PM] Wack'd: Spandex over utility belt over spandex. This has not been a fun night for Pete

[11:24 PM] Wack'd: Honestly really impressive that he was able to do all of those stunts dressed like that [11:25 PM] Wack'd: And now its all four against Reed [11:25 PM] Wack'd: They have him on the ropes when--

[11:26 PM] Wack'd: He hit him to get a thing off of his face! Like in a Looney Tune! I love it!

[11:27 PM] Wack'd: (Also: "coulda had a V-8" existed in 1980! Huh!) [11:28 PM] Wack'd: "In fairness, you're not laughing right now." "At my own joke? Don't be gauche"

[11:29 PM] maxwellelvis: "No! Not the shop-vac! Not again!" [11:30 PM] Wack'd: Peter takes Electro out with a rubber hose [11:30 PM] Wack'd: And Pete?

[11:31 PM] maxwellelvis: They all sweated him to death. [11:33 PM] Wack'd: Should've worn multiple layers, Peter! Pete had the right idea!

[11:34 PM] maxwellelvis: Or transformation gizmo like Japanese Spider-Man

[dcarevu]

Batman TAS: Moon of the Wolf

“If it’s a fight you’re looking for, try starting one with me!”

Episode: 43 Robin: No Writer: Len Wein Director: Dick Sebast Animator: Akom Airdate: November 11, 1992 Grade: B

This is perhaps one of the more infamous episodes of Batman TAS, being grouped with episodes like I’ve Got Batman in My Basement on several “worst” lists I’ve seen. But I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that bad the first time I saw it, and I don’t think it’s that bad now. Not a classic episode by any means, but it held my and Char’s attention, giving us some excitement and a pretty cool-looking villain. I can’t speak for everyone, but I think the werewolf-factor may directly affect people’s opinions, even though we’ve seen very similar through Tybrus and Man-Bat. If we can accept a giant cat-like creature created in a laboratory and a human-sized bat that flies around and turns back into a human, why is a werewolf suddenly just too much to believe? Probably because of how the story presents all this, which we will get into in just a second, but I did want to drop the bomb that I like this one, and all the complaints I have are pretty light.

So when the title card drops, we get some weird electric guitar that sounds like no other music the series has played. Think along the lines of The Last Laugh with how foreign that hip hop felt at the time. But now we’re more than 40 episodes in, and we’re so used to the orchestral stuff. On top of the werewolf, a lot of people seem to have a problem with the instrument choice, and I think that the episode could have gotten around it if the electric guitar was slowly inducted, reaching its most intense during the climax. That would have given us a little time to get used to it. Even though I like it, it was jarring to hear right away, right after the theme song we get to see every time.

After the title card, we start out at the Gotham zoo. Umm.. Okay. We’re starting at the zoo again? For the second episode in a row? The zoo really isn’t that interesting of a Batman location in my opinion. If I were writing this show, that would be a last resort setting. Y’know, not only is this the second episode in a row to start at the zoo, but it’s also the second episode in a row that deals with a human-sized creature of the night like this. Was this because of the time of year? Were these originally both planned for an October release? They must have had animals on the brain. Anyway, at the zoo a security guard’s dog starts going a little crazy, and a werewolf pops out from the shrubbery. This werewolf is incredibly awesome-looking, with gross slobber, these glowing eyes, and a very high intimidation factor. The werewolf gives the guard a hard time, but then Batman arrives on the scene, kicking the thing away. Batman does not typically pop up this early without some setup, so jumping into this type of action was a nice change of pace, even if other aspects we have seen recently. Batman fights off the werewolf, but it eventually gets away of course, because we’re still early in the episode. Going back to the Batcave, Batman tells Alfred that he fought a mugger wearing a werewolf mask. Looking at the creature, it’s pretty evident that this is no costume (or at least, no costume that your average mugger would likely be able to afford to run around and get into fights in), but more importantly, I don’t know why Batman doesn’t just assume that the creature is what it is. Bringing up Tyger, Tiger again, he just fought a humanoid-animal. It’s already been established that this kind of thing can happen in this world. Let’s move on from this! Batman notices some wolf fur on his gloves, and he actually ends up testing it, revealing it to be legitimate wolf-fur. But Batman thinks that it could just be an incredibly expensive costume. Look, guys, superheroes get brain-farts too. “What if that guy wasn’t wearing a mask?” Oh, I don’t know, I guess it would be exactly like what you’ve already experienced!

We get to see the identity of the werewolf as it arrives at this little shanty, and it turns out to be some guy named Anthony Romulus. The person in charge of him, forcing him to do his bidding, is Dr Milo, someone we saw in Cat Scratch Fever. He was honestly the last villain I ever expected to see again, and had no memory of him showing up here. Um. Welcome back, Milo? Dr Milo is a smug son-of-a-gun, and is using Anthony to…well, I think he’s just using him for money, as far as I can tell, and for doing his errands and chores (like killing the security guard). I don’t know why he wanted the security guard dead, because the security guard had no idea who he was anyway, but maybe he’s just tying up loose ends. Anthony explains (after turning back into a human) that Batman got in the way of the mission, and Dr Milo arranges a plan to get rid of the caped crusader before trying to deal with anything else. The plan is for Anthony (who is a star-athlete with plenty of money) to announce that he’s doubling up on a donation to a charity if Batman receives the check. We get a little more chatter on this in another scene where Bruce Wayne is shown to be working out with Anthony at the gym. I found this part to be fairly unnecessary, but it was harmless enough. Funny, though, how some of these characters that we’ve never seen before are all of a sudden shown to know Bruce when it’s their episode to become the villain. I like how they handled Two-Face much more, establishing him before the tragic episode. Now knowing about the check, Batman shows up to Anthony’s and is knocked out with gas. Dr Milo takes his utility belt and chains him down in this open area, which is to act like an arena where he will be torn apart by Anthony’s wolf-form (I’d love to know why these criminals always take his belt before taking his mask, by the way). While Batman is still unconscious, we get some exposition on why Anthony is the creature that he is through flashback, and this flashback is a bit confusing. There is a moment where is fakes you out because the flashback Dr. Milo starts narrating, and then it goes back to the present Dr. Milo. This makes it a little harder to follow in one watch, but I think Char and I handled it okay. Anthony’s werewolf origin is okay, but I did find myself questioning a few things. Not necessarily the writers, but the characters. Like, Anthony, why were you so quick to drink that substance which would ultimately transform you? Dr Milo said it hadn’t been tested. It could have immediately killed you. And for what, some gold medals? This puts a bad taste in our mouths over this character because of his willingness to cheat to succeed. He has his face in cereal commercials, being exposed to tons of people around the country and acting as a role-model to many of them, but he’s a filthy, rotten cheater. I also have to question Dr Milo. His plan is insane. Tricking someone to drink a solution that turns them into a werewolf so you can then control them by dangling the antidote in front of their face, getting free work and cash from it? I mean, whatever works for you, but there’s gotta be something a bit more inconspicuous. Throughout this, it’s hard to tell who to cheer for, but I think that at this point, Anthony has learned his lesson. It’s obvious that he finds Dr Milo’s work reprehensible. Dr Milo has absolutely zero redeeming qualities.

Shout out to the director (the show does little Easter eggs like this all the time, keep your eye out!)

Anthony changes into the wolf once the moon comes out (Milo’s scientific explanations never explain how the hell this works) and attacks Milo, throwing him through the wall of the shanty. Damn! Batman, before being attacked, comes to and finds a pin on the ground, using it to pick the locks that are keeping him restrained. I hope Milo provided that on purpose, and for the sake of me liking this episode, that’s what I’m gonna imagine. Otherwise, that is just way too convenient (and allows the writer to dance around Batman actually finding a clever solution). Now free, Batman and Anthony have a fight which moves to a rooftop where they are visible to the Gotham police force, being led by Bullock. It’s a really intense battle, and I couldn’t help but get into it. Oh, I’m aware that this episode is all style and very little substance, but hey, if it works it works. Not every episode needs to make me question morality and life itself. Just give me some dumb action every now and then with an awesome soundtrack and spooky vibes. Unfortunately, the fight comes to a close when Anthony is struck by lightning, and falls into the water below. Pretty stupid way to close out.

Oh, a highlight that I forgot to mention is when Bullock is interrogating the zoo security guard about the missing timberwolves. He pushes the dude right up against the cage, and we can see their jaws snapping, clearly getting agitated by the ruckus. “I want the truth before I decide to feed ya to your furry friends here.” Apparently the term “furry friends” can sound intimidating as hell if it comes with a slick accent like Bullock’s. Not only does Bullock get this moment, but when Batman and Anthony are on top of the roof, Bullock yells at the officers to not fire, and to let Batman handle the situation. This may have been to avoid conflict considering that, well, it’s a scary god damn werewolf which could easily eat all of them if it wanted, but I also like to think that after 40-ish episodes, Bullock develops the tiniest hint of faith in Batman. He’ll probably always be the cocky, sleazy oaf that we’ve known from the start, but it’s nice to see a little bit of development from such an unlikely episode. And that’s not worth nothing.

Oddly, looking back, Batman was never clued in on the entire steroid-situation like we were. I don’t even know if Batman figured out the identity of the werewolf. What an odd feeling. I don’t want to call it an oversight on the writing side of things, but this must be the first time that Batman just didn’t solve the mystery. Huh. Maybe Dr Milo is right, then, and he’ll get away scot-free. Then again, Batman is pretty smart. There are sure to be all kinds of clues lurking within that shanty.

I know I complained a lot, but that’s mostly because the logic was certainly not all there. I don’t grade these episodes based on anything but my enjoyment-level, though, so…

Char’s grade: B

Next time: Day of the Samurai Full episode list here!

[zevveli]

The A.C.T.O.R.S. Program

[At 5078 words this is the longest post of this kind I’ve made, story under Read More because it kind of got away from me.]

In an attempt to create better peace and understanding between galactic races the humans of the Earth Allied Systems created a program known as the “Astronaval Cross-Training Outreach Research Session” or A.C.T.O.R.S. (something that a human in training program referred to as a “backronym” claiming that “the suits would never sign off on it without a ‘cool’ name.”) The A.C.T.O.R.S. program was ingenious; Alberria and several other “astronauts”, as the humans called them, were selected from the various galactic races of whom the humans had good relations with, and sent to undergo training with the new astronaval recruits among the humans. It was not at all surprising to see the stocky fur-covered Alethi present, as they had nothing but respect for humans since their help with the treatment and extermination of the “blood-rot” which turned out to be nothing more than a bacterial infection, albeit a very aggressive one that still claimed a not-insignificant number of those infected even with treatment. Nor was he surprised to see the bulky carapaces of the Mosarri, they seemed quite similar according to rumors so the only options were for them to be aggressive foes or for them to “get on like a house on fire” as the humans put it. However Alberria was surprised to see the highly xenophobic Stenthrass present. The creatures, with long serpentine bodies, rarely dealt with other races, and almost never on what anyone would call “good terms.”

Alberria mistakenly thought that the human training would be simple, after all he had been aboard Passan vessel practically his entire life, and had been astrogating since he learned the math necessary to plot courses. And when it came to the scholarly parts of human training he was correct.

He was not expecting the physical aspect.

Every morning a loud instrument was sounded to make certain that every single occupant of the training center was awake. From the time that it was sounded they had fifteen human minutes to shower and get dressed before reporting to a large field where they stood in rows next to each other. They had to stand a certain way: arms to the side, back straight, head forward, heels together toes spread apart at an eighth of a circlet (forty-five-degree-angle as the humans called it.) They had to stand in the same position, every day, and a very angry human would walk up and down the rows yelling at them. If you weren’t in the exact right position, if your standard-issue training clothes were dirty, if you missed a button, if your collar wasn’t straight, you got yelled at. Once Alberria saw him look up-and-down at a human, reach into his pocket, pull out a three-sided piece of plastic, and waved it in front of the human’s face.

“RECRUIT! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS?” He shouted.

“A forty-five-forty-five-ninety triangle Drill Sergeant!” the recruit shouted back.

“AND WHY DO YOU THINK I HAVE THIS?”

“To make certain that my feet are in the correct placement Drill Sergeant!”

The Drill Sergeant placed the piece of plastic down on the ground between the recruit’s feet while staring at him.

“NOW RECRUIT! WHEN I LOOK DOWN AT THIS TRIANGLE BETWEEN YOUR FEET WHAT SHOULD I SEE?”

“You should see my feet next to the edges of the triangle Drill Sergeant!”

“NEXT TO? RECRUIT YOUR FEET SHOULD BE GODDAMNED FLUSH WITH THAT THING!”

He looked down.

“JUST AS I THOUGHT! RECRUIT WHEN YOU ARE AT ATTENTION YOUR FEET NEED TO BE FORTY-FIVE DEGREES APART! NOT FORTY-SIX! NOT FORTY-FOUR! FORTY-GOD-DAMNED-FIVE!”

He snapped up the triangle and continued walking down the line addressing the entire formation.

“PUSH-UP POSITION!” He ordered. Immediately all the races capable of doing so dropped down to start the hellacious human exercise. “TO HELP YOU REMEMBER YOU’RE ALL GOING TO GIVE ME FORTY-GOD-DAMNED-FIVE PUSH-UPS SO YOU’LL REMEMBER TO KEEP YOUR FEET AT FORTY-GOD-DAMNED-FIVE DEGREES! THEN WE’LL GET TO YOUR P.T.!”

Alberria found the whole thing ridiculous. If one person messed up, everyone was punished, usually by having to do push-ups, or run, or cleaning some random part of the base. The Drill Sergeant would yell at everyone for the most minor of screw-ups. After formation they would get to eat breakfast. Then they would train some more, marching together, running together, doing all manner of human exercises until it was time for their second meal. Then it was time for the actual training, learning about the ships, how to run them, how to keep key parts going, the command structure, simulations were run, and on some days, they were handed human firearms and sent to shoot at targets.

Alberria did horribly the first time. The Drill Sergeant informed him in not so friendly terms, that he had been killed by the hostile boarding party for his failure to hit any of them. He was then given a large white cloth with two holes cut in it, which he was instructed to put over himself. Alberria was then instructed that he was to wear the sheet at all times, except when eating, sleeping, or showering, and was not allowed to say anything except for “Oooooooo” unless asked who or what he was in which case he was to respond “I am the ghost of a useless astronaut who cannot shoot straight to save his life.” Alberria was forced to do this for a week, his sole comfort being that he was not the only one subjected to this punishment.

After about a human month he noticed far fewer humans around him, after two several of the non-humans were missing as well. Alberria was informed that “They couldn’t hack it,” and were sent home. By the third month he was starting to understand the humans’ madness and it terrified him.

By punishing everyone for the mistakes they were attempting to build the legendary human comradery Alberria had heard so much about (although his “bunkmate” a man called Allan hastened to inform him that this was a different form of comradery than most humans would form.) The physical exercise and all the shooting was because they never knew what dangers the ship might face, and hypothetical situations such as “the security team has been neutralized already and the enemy is barreling down towards the armory” were treated as plausible occurrences (Alberria’s protests that a boarding party was far less likely than total spacing was met with a curt dismissal, and orders to run and additional 4 human miles in full gear.) As the third month drew to a close they began the true training.

One-by-one the recruits were loaded into a machine that spun them around and around, simulating high force velocities. They were given tasks to accomplish during these tasks such as manipulating instruments, cleaning a human firearm, solving a multi-colored object known as a Rue-bick’s-cube (Allan admitted that he could not do that under normal circumstances.) The worst one though, was when Alberria approached the machine and had a strange belt strapped to his chest, and a strange object attached to his finger. “Your task today is simple,” the Drill Sergeant told him as he entered the machine and was strapped in, “Stay awake as long as you can.” Before he could ask any questions the hatch was shut and the machine began to spin. It spun faster and faster until Alberria began to feel light-headed, the edges of his vision became dark, and his vision went black. The next thing he knew he was lying upside-down on an angled bed with his ankles strapped to the top, and a mask strapped over his face supplying oxygen-rich air to his body.

Alberria would have called it torture, and to an extent it was, but he was realizing how necessary it was. See every race has their own way of jumping to hyperspace. The Ocaalo utilize fine instruments to find tears in the fabric of reality to slip in and out of subspace. The Ra’atzda utilize engines to create these tears and jump through at their leisure. The Mosarri utilize hyperefficient fusion reactions to fly at relativistic speeds until they slide into subspace by sheer coincidence. Alberria’s people, the Passan, had an elegant solution, utilizing quantum phase manipulators to simply ease their ships into subspace. It was always beautiful to watch, if disconcerting to be on, as the ship shimmered and waved like a reflection on a pond disturbed by the wind, as it quickly vanished into subspace. After hearing all the galactic rumors about the humans, Alberria would have expected something similar to the Mosarri tactic, but having been through the hellish training he now knew that the Mosarri hyperdrive was both too reckless and not reckless enough. The humans used graviton generators and manipulators to actually create a singularity around their ship (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they use gravitons to turn their ships into singularities,) pulling them into subspace, then upon reaching their destination, manipulating tachyons to cause the ship and all of its occupants to spontaneously emerge from hyperspace. The method is certainly efficient, taking relatively little power (only 192.3 YottaWatts per trip, which the humans claim to be half the power output of their origin sun), as opposed to the next-most efficient method used by the Ocaalo which, by utilizing the conversion rates he had memorized, Alberria estimated required around 263 YottaWatts just to open the rift from normal space, and 283 to open it from subspace, this not including the power needed to seal the tears to prevent other ships from falling in to subspace), however it placed a great deal of strain on both ship and crew. During the course of his training with the A.C.T.O.R.S. program Alberria had learned that a human ship could make only eight hyperspace journeys before its structural integrity was called into question, and most astronauts were only permitted to make 19 hyperspace journeys in a year except in dire circumstances (the absolute cap is not made publically available to astronauts due to what is referred to as “space addiction” and the normal permitted cap may be lowered at the discretion of the medical corps on an individual basis.)

Finally after six months, the training was concluded. Alberria and the rest of the recruits who made it were allowed a two week period to do whatever (legally permissible) thing they wanted, before being given their assignment. In that two week period Allan showed Alberria around some of Earth. He got to see a strange human sport called “Baseball” which Allan seemed to thoroughly enjoy, despite spending most of the game angrily shouting at the people playing the game for various reasons (mostly the team he claimed to like, shouting for them to “catch the goddamned ball” and to “throw it to…” some position). His team lost with a final score of eleven points to one point, but Allan still claimed it to be a “very good game.” Alberria wondered what he would have said if he liked the team that won. They also went to see an “Aviary” which was filled with various earth creatures called “birds” that Allan said looked “just like the Passan only much smaller, without arms, with wings closer to their chests, stouter torsos, and they look nothing alike.” And strangely enough this was entirely accurate.

The halcyon vacation of two weeks ended far too soon and Alberria was given orders to report to shuttle-port 683-A5. A large group of humans were there, as well as the other Passan who had made it through the A.C.T.O.R.S. training (although apparently the program would last until the end of the upcoming “tour” at which point the non-humans and humans would return to their respective ships.) The shuttle was Spartan in decoration. With only 52 seats with 5-point harnesses and a rack for the bags which contained the astronauts’ meager belongings (although Alberria learned not all of the occupants were astronauts, as when he asked one how long he had been an astronaut the individually angrily retorted “I ain’t no fucking gap-squid! I’m a goddamned Space Marine!” at which point nineteen of the other occupants thrust their fist in the air while shouting “Ooh-rah!”) After strapping in, they were made to sit for a while, it felt like forever to Alberria, made even longer by the argument between one of the astronauts and the space marine. (Gap-squid. Jar-head. We keep your pasty asses safe. Yeah, but we get your fat asses off earth. You wouldn’t last a day in the E.A.S.M.C.! And you wouldn’t last a minute if I pushed you out an airlock!) Then the shuttle shuddered, and lurched, as it was pulled out from the port to the pad. The engines started to hum and whine, as the pad began to rotate upwards until Alberria could feel the full force of the human planet pulling him downwards towards its surface. The ship remained stationary, Alberria faintly heard one of the humans muttering something, cut off by a grunt as the guy in the seat next to him elbowed him.

“Stop praying Gutierrez! You’re making ME nervous! If launches bother you so much why the fuck don’t you just keep your boots on the ground?”

“Once we launch I’m fine but I hate being vertical like this. If God wanted man to stick to walls he’d have made us Lizards. No offense!”

“None taken,” came the grunting reply of the reptile-like bafkal that Alberria had only vaguely noticed, “but to be honest I used to hang from walls all the time back home and I’M freaking out right now so I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

“THAT IS NOT HELPING!” Gutierrez shouted, “THAT IS THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF HELPING!”

The shuttle erupted into laughter as the human freaked out, which resulted in him beginning a profanity laden rant in his native tongue. The laughter cut off as the announcement system cut in.

“Tower to E.A.S.S. Quillback. Weather is clear, Airspace is clear, Trajectory is clear, All Systems are green. Initiate on my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark.”

The engines roared, the Quillback shuttered. Alberria felt himself being pulled down into his seat. It felt very similar to the machine that spun him around and around and yet, different at the same time. Surprisingly no one was screaming, or even hollering for joy (despite claiming that they would do so.) Suddenly the pull stopped. Alberria felt himself slide a bit in his seat. The engines were still roaring, but everything felt…light. But not like the times that they made him stay in the spinning machine until he passed out.

“Welcome to micro-g greenies.” One of the humans said, a couple others laughed. It was another three hours in the cramped shuttle before a voice cut in over the system again.

“E.A.S.C. Carnwennan to E.A.S.S. Quillback. We are prepared to receive you, prepare for gravity arrest.” The shuttle shuddered and the engines cut out. There was a feeling of falling, a jolt and a slam. “Carnwennan to Quillback. Gravity arrest successful. You are clear to disembark.”

Alberria and the others unfastened themselves from their harnesses, grabbed their rucksacks from the secured racks, and stepped out into a large open hanger. Following instructions relayed to them prior to boarding the Quillback, the astronauts walked through the corridors until they arrived at their assigned berthings.

“Erm…Allan.” Alberria asked as they entered the assigned room. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“809C-7, that’s the right berthing. Why?”

Alberria looked around in disgust, the room was cramped, barely the size of the closet in his lodgings aboard his last vessel with the Passan. It contained four bunks, two inset on each wall next to the door to enter the room. Against the back wall was a set of twelve lockers with one of four human letters, A, B, C, and D, and one of three symbols, a red circle, a brownish-grey square, and a brownish-grey star, the square and the star were apparently different colors to human eyes known as “Blue” and “Yellow” but to the Passan they would have been identical without the shapes. The letters were obvious, they were meant to refer to the four bunks, labeled A, B, C, and D, but the shapes meant nothing to Alberria. He knew from the file assigned to him that he was assigned the B-bunk and he had been looking forward to spending the five hours of “cool-up” time lying in it to rid himself of the travel fatigue. But there was a human asleep in his bunk. In fact there was a human asleep in each of the bunks.

“These bunks are occupied Allan.”

“Yeah, we went over this in training remember? Hot-bunking? These guys are Red Shift, right now Blue Shift is on duty, in five hours we go on duty with the rest of Gold Shift. At which point Blue Shift will come back, wake up Red Shift, then go to sleep until we get relieved by Red Shift in eight hours.”

“They were serious about that?”

“Yup.”

Alberria stored his belongings in his locker (The B with the “yellow” star on it) and took the time to go around the ship with Allan. They quickly figured out where the “Rec Room” and Cafeteria were. As well as a few other key locations, the medical bay, the supply depot, but before they could explore any more a whistle was sounded to signify that shift change was in about fifteen minutes. Alberria and Allan quickly took off to the engine room to take over for the Blue Shift folks. They arrived slightly early and Alberria was stopped by several other members of the Gold Shift when he attempted to enter the engine room. It was calmly explained to him that they could not enter until shift change, and that the Blues couldn’t leave until shift change. As soon as the whistle sounded again the two Shifts immediately swapped places.

Running the engine was extremely simple, if boring. Walk around, look at a bunch of needles and dials, write what they said down every fifteen minutes, turn a crank or switch a lever if the control tower told you to. If a machine beeped find out why it beeped and then do what it said to make it stop beeping. By the time the shift warning whistle sounded Alberria felt like his eyes were going to fall out of his skull, when the shift whistle came it couldn’t come soon enough. He went back to his bunk, woke up the Blue in his bed, and crawled in. He realized why it was called “hot-bunking” the bed was still warm from the other guy, it probably was always warm because someone was always asleep in it. He had a sudden thought, when the hell did they wash the sheets? That first shift he found it difficult to sleep, until eventually his exhaustion overtook his disgust.

Alberria’s sleep was rudely interrupted as he was violently pulled from the bed and onto the floor. He looked up and saw the Red who had been in his bed when he first came in to place his stuff in.

“Fucking Peacock!” He snarled as he ripped the blanket away from Alberria, wrapped himself in it and flopped down into the bunk.

Alberria and Allan went to the Cafeteria intending to have the traditional post-slumber meal of “breakfast” but according to the ship’s schedule they would instead be “breakfasting” on “Dinner” which supposedly was the last meal the humans would eat in a day. Then they went to the Rec room to spend the rest of the time before their shift relaxing or such. From some of the humans he learned several “card games” of luck and strategy, he enjoyed the game “Hearts” the best, as the strategy far outweighed the luck, but did not much enjoy the game “poker” which was much more luck-based. Allan claimed that there was a lot of strategy involved in poker, but that Alberria was at a disadvantage because the passan body language was easier to read for humans, and that the human body language was, conversely, more difficult for the passan to read. Alberria just knew he preferred the games of Hearts and Spades.

The next shift was just as boring, but sleep came easier at its end. As the days went by he noticed that many of the astronauts who had been aboard for a while had images and symbols on their bodies. He asked if it was some sort of caste or religious thing and was informed that it was, sort of.

One of the older members of Gold Shift, referred to as “Petty Officer Grayson” explained that sailors were always superstitious, because on the sea you could do everything right but if a storm or swell hit you just right there was nothing you could do about it, and that translated to space. So the ink symbols, tattoos as they were called, came to be created as good luck charms, and also as celebrations of certain achievements. The most common symbol he had seen was an old human artifact known as “cannon” crossed over top of an “Rocket ship” a space-travel device theorized by humans before actual space travel was achieved. Petty Officer Grayson explained that this meant that the astronaut had served in the E.A.S. Astronaval corps. The next most common symbol was a five pointed star, with half of each point colored in, none of which were next to each other. This was apparently called a “Nautical Star” and it was believed that any sailor or Astronaut who had this tattoo would always find their way home. Several of the astronauts had a hooded figure standing in a boat, this was apparently an old figure from ancient human mythology called “Charon” and it signified that the astronaut had spent time assigned to the docking port on the satellite of the same name that orbited a planetoid in the human home-system called “Pluto.” There was a turtle with a large disk on its back that resembled the human home planet of Earth, this signified that the astronaut had journeyed past the edge of the home-system in normal space. There was also a bunch of birds called swallows with bubble-like helmets, each of which signified that an astronaut had traveled 50,000 “Astronomical Units,” which were the average distance between the human home world of Earth and its central star, in normal space, a process which at the Carnwennan’s full speed would require approximately 10 months of constant travel, but at the maximum recommended speed for non-emergencies it would actually take almost two and a half Earth Years. There was also one which was exceedingly rare, found only on people such as Petty Officer Grayson who referred to themselves as “Career Enlisted” as well as a handful of officers, a tall bearded human with a crown and three-pronged staff, emerging out of a singularity. This symbolized that the astronaut on whose flesh it was drawn had survived 50 of the gravity dives. Of which Alberria would be experiencing his first soon enough.

Sure enough five days later the Carnwennan shuddered and the instruments in the engine room started to shudder.

“Is this the gravity dive?” He asked.

Petty Officer Grayson laughed. “Greenie! This is start up! We’ve been in orbit around Mars for the past month you’ve been here to get you recruits used to life aboard her! In about two days we’ll be inducting you all into the court of King Neptune,” he tapped his arm just below the elbow where the world turtle rested “once we pass the Kuiper Belt. Then we start the dive.”

The dull monotony of the engine room was gone. Machines pinged and whirred more often, and orders from the helm came in near constant droves. By the time Red Shift came to relieve them Alberria damn near passed out just changing out of the work uniform to get ready to sleep. Two days later he was woken up by his Red Shift bunkmate, but rather than crawling into the bunk the man turned around.

“We’re diving today.” He grunted when Alberria asked why he wasn’t getting in the bunk. “No one sleeps in their bunk until we’ve successfully breached subspace.”

It was weird seeing the Cafeteria and the Rec room so full of people, most of whom were swearing profusely and drinking large cups full of a foul-smelling bitter drink the humans called “Coffee” which apparently acted as a substitute for sleep in sufficient quantities, but also could act as a poison in large quantities, and there was a significant amount of overlap between the two classifications. A few hours in all of the recruits were made to stand in a line, as well as several of the more established sailors. Petty Officer Grayson stepped forward and pulled out a book.

“Fellow Astronauts! We are gathered here to induct these people into the most hallowed ranks of King Neptune’s court! As our seafaring ancestors honored the ancient king of the sea, so to do we beseech his protection here in the void!” He continued on in a long flowing ceremony talking about ships, and voyages, and safe returns, and crossing into the deep unknown. At the end of which some of the men stepped forward to the recruits, Alberria included.

And punched them in the upper arm as hard as they possibly could.

“Welcome Brothers!” Petty Officer Grayson shouted and the room erupted into cheers and applause that was cut off by the shrill whistle demanding attention.

“All hands secure yourselves! Prepare for gravity dive! All hands secure yourselves! Gravity dive in ten minutes!” Immediately a mad dash began as people rushed to various chairs that were secured to the floor and began to attach themselves in with the familiar five-point harnesses.

“All hands secure yourselves! Prepare for gravity dive! All hands secure yourselves! Gravity dive in five minutes!” One of the astronauts began humming a hauntingly low tune. The others began to pick it up.

“All hands secure yourselves! Prepare for gravity dive! All hands secure yourselves! Gravity dive in sixty seconds!” Several of the Astronauts stopped humming and began to sing instead.

Our blood’s on the ground,

But we’re in the sky.

Death comes for us,

So we piss in his eye.

The dead whisper tales,

Of the black-star foam.

We journey through hell,

But we’ll soon be home.

I’ve got a girl on Io bright,

Her eyes like stars and her hair like night.

Her words so soft her lips so red,

Her touch so warm it could wake the dead.

Our blood’s on the ground,

But we’re in the sky.

Death comes for us,

So we piss in his eye.

The dead whisper tales,

Of the black-star foam.

We journey through hell,

But we’ll soon be home.

After the second chorus the humming resumed and then suddenly Alberria felt a great weight pressing down and pulling up on every single molecule of his being. At a single moment he felt himself being pulled into his navel, his chair, the ceiling, the ship, everything. He wanted to black out, but all the blood was being pulled towards his brain at the same moment it was being pulled away from it. In his younger years Alberria had been told that 98% of an atom was empty space, in this moment every single atom aboard the Carnwennan was compressed down and all that empty space was removed. Everything took on a ghostly pallor as the solid ship became a state of matter that Alberria, quite frankly, didn’t think actually existed before the humans decided that the laws of physics were mere suggestions. Then everything grew bright as the singularity formed from the ship and pulled in the surrounding light. With a rumble the ship became more coherent, the pressure began to ease as Alberria went from being in total pain, to having a headache from hell and feeling as if he needed to throw up everything he had ever eaten in his entire life so far and half the things he hadn’t yet. From the looks on the people around him he was far from the only one. The experienced astronauts took deep breaths and resumed their chant.

I promised I would soon return,

And then her love I’m sure to earn.

But she must stay and I must fly,

Sure as I’m not her only guy.

Our blood’s on the ground,

But we’re in the sky.

Death comes for us,

So we piss in his eye.

The dead whisper tales,

Of the black-star foam.

We journey through hell,

But we’ll soon be home.

The chant continued in that vein, as the narrator continued to sing of the lovely woman from the moon of Io, and how the astronaut overcame the challenges of space for the sole purpose of one day returning to her and wooing her away from the other astronauts whose attention she was drawn to. Slowly Alberria realized that his breathing was beginning to match the tempo of the chant. Soon he realized the purpose of the song, it relaxed the astronauts, allowed something for their heartbeat to align itself with after the terrors of the gravity dive, in short, it aided recovery. Finally the whistle sounded again.

“Attention crew, subspace is normalized. You are clear to release securements at your discretion. Red Shift you are clear to return to your berthing.”

Alberria unclasped his harness and staggered to his feet. The only one of Gold Shift to do so, the rest were placing their heads between their legs as Red Shift stumbled off back to their bunks.

“So,” Petty Officer Grayson asked as he approached Alberria. “What’d you think of the gravity dive?”

“I can’t wait until we finish the A.C.T.O.R.S. program so I never ever have to do this ever again.”

The human laughed, “Get used to it. We’ve got three more scheduled for this cruise before we reach our turn-around destination I think. And you all will be returned to your respective governments when we reach their ports on the return journey, so you’ve probably got at least five more dives in you. And that’s not including the breach.”

Alberria wished he could tell whether or not the human was joking, but glad he couldn’t because at least this way he had hope.

[bolbianddolanhouse]

oops, I have a BNHA OC [self insert]

BNHA AU

Name: Itati Palma age: 15 {normal 1st year HS age} gender: Female sexuality: Cis-gender, Heterosexual quirk: Mid-range Telekinesis and Copy school: UA high class: 1-A, Intelligence Courses (Secret Service section of the school, tho not canon, is a lesser known section of UA with small class sizes)

Likes: Memes, coffee, flowers and scented stationary 

Dislikes: Ignorance, Capitalism, authority figures and unseasoned food

Quirk:

What it does: Can levitate self, other object/persons, teleport 

flaw/limit: 

1) Though no limit to how much they can levitate and move other objects, they HAVE to expose their armpits to activate telekinesis (in other words, T-pose) 2) Can teleport only 2 miles at a time and even then, the location HAS to be a location they’ve visited/passed through before 3) in order to teleport an object/another person, they have to have the object/person against their chest (think of a tight hug)

what it does: copy other quirks

flaw/limit:

1) Can also copy mutations if its in relation of the quirk 2) HAS to touch the person’s face with their hand in order to copy the quirk 3) Can copy someones double quirk but its harder to control 4) Can’t sustain the copy for too long, depending on the quirk and how many, can sustain between 5 mins to 8 hours

About the family: 

Neron Palma: Father (metal manipulation) Elde Palma: Mother (Full Range Telekinesis and Erasure) Primavera Palma: Older sister (Rampage and Fire) Joaquin Palma: Little Brother (Elasticity and Flight)    -Double quirks run on the mother’s side, Elemental manipulation runs on the father’s side. Telekinesis runs on both sides. Hispanic family of immigrant parents and older sibling, brother and I are American born. Nobody is a pro-hero BUT quirks are used for their respected occupations. In America, theres no pro-heroes due to unjust and corrupt government, but Batman is a thing (all other comic book heroes are just comics and cartoons).

Combat techniques and preferences:  

Though having a double quirk and being potentially powerful, they rely on their quick thinking and environment when in combat. Not really being the type to physically fight, they’re the team strategist and last resort. Even though not choosing to be a hero, they have a signature fighting style thats a mix of lucha libre and MMA fighting. Since they’re in the Intelligence course, they also use a whole range of gadgets like net guns, stun guns, ammo guns, flash grenades and blades to name a few that they keep concealed and carry. Works best in teams but can carry on their own if they need to. 

About : 

Just a bright and talented American teen when their whole world was rocked by an up and coming gang that attacked the high school she was attending at the time. When she saw her favorite teacher get shot by the gang leader, she stood in front of them and fought him to the death. Even though she managed to disable the leader, he shot her in the abdomen, causing her to bleed out as he escaped. Thinking this was the end of her life, she woke up in a government controlled hospital and was told that they intervened a government case and was given 3 options. To re-locate with their family, stay and die or to join the secret service but leave the country until all gang activity dies out. Though a hard choice on their family, they accept the 3rd option for the safety of their family. They fake her death and she gets quickly sent to Japan to attend UA as a last minute enrollee to the Intelligence program. 

School life: 

Since she was an international student and tested out of alot of subjects (like english, sciences and 1st year math), she was able to get a specialized class schedule that allowed them to take part of the hero course while taking intelligence courses. So she interacts with the 1-A students for 2 hours out of the school day. Everyone gets along with her and include her as much as possible, even as far as training with them. Since she didn’t bring her family with her to Japan, alot of their ‘adult reliance’ came from Midnight, Present Mic and Eraserhead. She basically only has 2 very close friends that she met in their Intelligence course, Jin and Mimi (more on them in another post). Lived by themselves until the introduction of dorms. 

Uniform and Costume:

She wears the uniform like all the other girls but with more personality. Often wears colorful knee-high socks, makeup (to hid eye bags mostly), shoes vary from normal loafers to ugg looking-ass boots. On the pocket of the blazer, they wear their flag pins with pride (all international students were given flag pins to let other students know where they’re from and home culture. Mine were the American flag and Mexican flag). Hair always done differently daily to show off how long, thick and curly it is. At first, they didn’t have PE clothes bc of their rush enrollment, so they had to wear basketball shorts and witty t-shirts to do training. When the measurements were done, her PE clothes were like the UA track suit but with shorts instead of pants and had their last name and American flag on the upper back of the jacket. As for costume, everyone in the intelligence course gets a custom variation of a black jumpsuit with utility belt and holsters. Mine was a jumpsuit with shorts, mesh long sleeves, thigh high compression stockings, steel toe boots and a drop down visor. On the upper thigh of the suit is embroidered Agent number (Im number 19) and two flags (American and Mexican). 

Fun details:

Acts like the class cool older sibling even though they’re all the same age. If they didn’t leave America, she would’ve studied to be a musician or writer. Everyone gets intrigued when they speak spanish (often its cursing). Doesn’t like using their copy quirk but the 1-A boys are always actin’ the fool and they catch these hands then get their ass kicked with their own quirk. Often feels homesick and gets depressed over her situation but chooses not to seek help from others (Midnight is often the one to help them out without being asked). Doesn’t sleep much to upkeep with school work but also parties alot with their Intelligence class until the sun rises. To everyone’s surprise, she has a drivers license and drives to school (up until the dorm situation, they just teleport to school and drive when they do shopping). Is an LGBTQA+ ally and will fight anyone who bullies them, even if they don’t know them. 

===========================================================

I decided to share my BNHA self insert bc I’ve been having these dreams where I attend UA and live a whole ass life in that universe. These dreams have been continuous for about 4 months now and I REALLY want the 4 season to start so I can stop and dream literally anything else. In the meantime, if you stumbled upon this post and want/need to read something to bide the time until season 4 (or just want to read self insert AUs), Ill be updating often on this AU for anyone’s reading pleasure. Thanks for stopping by today :3 Ill put a link to the next one here! Bye for now!