#like before he got injured he could right?

[witherby]

36 REBLOGS ON FLIGHT OF FANCYYYYYYY

AYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA

—🦈

Yayayayayayayay! Enjoy!

Flight of Fancy

Part 3 of Damian x Winged!Reader

Masterlist is Here!

You spend a while in the air, examining bats while trying not to disturb them. The first couple clusters you approach all scatter with panicked squeaking and fly out of the cave's multiple exits. Damian watches you readjust your strategy, trying different speeds and distances, until you figure out that you can watch them peacefully if you don't beat your wings so hard and don't get closer than about six feet away.

You're so polite as you watch them, holding Damian's words in mind. You keep your hands laced together behind your back, content to simply observe, and Damian does the same of you but on a more professional scale.

Armed with a pad and pen, he takes down all the information he's collected of you so far:

Bleeds gold

Physiologically a teen/young adult

Wingspan approx. 2x their height

White wings, full range of motion

Capable of long-distance flight

Limited world knowledge (didn't know the word for bat)

Learns languages via salivic exchange

Kidnapped from home (unknown location)

Real name unknown

Date of birth unknown

Species - winged metahuman

Dubbed "Project Angel" by Le—

Damian is about to finish writing, but the notepad gets snatched out of his hand by his older brother Jason.

"Whuh'ssits?" He mumbles around a mouthful of burrito, holding his snack in one hand and the pad in the other, high above Damian's head.

"Red Hood!" The boy snaps, irritated and embarrassed. He jumps for the pad but it's too far, and elects to start climbing his brother like a jungle gym. "Give me that! I'm making important observations about my ward!"

"Ward?" He smirks, after swallowing. "What ward? Looks like you're cooking up another OC to draw."

Damian's cheeks flush a brilliant red. The domino mask barely conceals his embarrassed, wide gaze. Even if he was doing that, which he wasn't, it never hurts to plan out his concepts before following through!!

"Look up, genius! And go put on something to cover your stupid face!"

"Am I a genius or stupid?" Jason asks, shaking him off. "Are you gettin' shy on me? You love showin' off your art when it's done, what's the problem —"

The pad gets ripped from his hands and Jason goes flying when a powerful gust of wind knocks him backwards. You land protectively in front of Damian, with your wings fully extended to make yourself look bigger, and bare your teeth. Distantly, he notes that you have pointed canines.

"Are you injured?" You ask Damian.

"No," he says, lifting a hand as if to place it on your back. He hesitates, unwilling to hurt or disturb your wings, and drops it again. "Stand down. That man is my brother, not a threat."

"Brother..." you mutter, frowning.

"Kin," Damian tries, which you seem to understand. "Hood, are you injured?"

"Am I in— I just got blown across the fucking room!" Jason snaps. When he sits up, he's got the red, half-mask on that covers him from nose to jaw, and he's aiming a gun at you. The severity of his appearance is significantly dulled by the burrito innards splattered all over the front of his hoodie.

"Who are you."

"This is your kin?" You ask, dubious. "He is aiming a weapon at us, from which you could be harmed. That's normal?"

Damian's mouth forms a thin line. There isn't time to cover the family's overcomplicated dynamics right this second, so he just kind of shrugs and nods.

"Mostly, yes," he admits. "Let me by."

You fold one of your wings against your back so Damian can step past you, then re-extend it and continue glaring at Jason. Jason glares right back, finger hovering over the trigger.

"Put the gun down. I rescued them on my patrol tonight." Damian steps right in front of the pistol. Jason eases his finger off immediately, but doesn't lower it. "Batman has tasked me with keeping them safe until they can be relocated in the morning. They're not a threat."

"Tell that to my busted back," Jason grunts, but he does eventually concede to putting his weapon down, and climbs to his feet. "Jesus, my favorite fucking hoodie is wrecked. If I can't get these stains out, you owe me a new one, Winx Club!"

"That's not my name," you scowl, feathers ruffling. The rippling effect it has is mesmerizing.

"Do I look like I give a shit? I'm heading upstairs, this blows." Jason stuffs the gun in the pocket of his hoodie lackadaisically, then points a finger at Damian as he takes his leave. "It's bad enough you've got a whole petting zoo of animals. Don't start collecting humanoid strays, too."

"Go to bed, Red Hood," Damian grumbles, turning to you. Your eyes trail after Jason, maintaining your threatening stance until he's completely out of sight. You straighten up and relax your wings, slowly folding them up again.

"I dislike him," you say, crossing your arms.

"He's a... difficult personality," Damian says, fully aware of the hypocrisy of that statement. He barrels forward, curious. "You stood up for me, even when he was seconds from shooting you. Why?"

You tilt your head like he's asked a particularly stupid question.

"You saved me," you state simply. "I am indebted to you."

"It's my job to save others. I protect this city with my family."

"I am not from your city, and you helped me all the same."

"You're in it, however temporarily, which makes your well-being my priority."

You hum, head gently tilting one direction in contemplation. Damian absently compares it to a bunny, or a curious puppy dog.

"Even so," you conclude, "I will repay your kindness. If it's in my power to do it, you will have it, Robin."

"I don't need anything from you," Damian says, not unkindly. "There's no debt I'm owed. I wanted you safe, and that's the long and short of it."

You don't argue it further, but there's still a small frown on your face. Again, Damian's eyes are drawn to your lips. He feels his heart rate get a little faster.

"Would it sate you if I asked for knowledge in return?" He offered. "You can still say no; I'm not going to make you tell me anything you don't want."

You perk up a bit, nodding. You both snap your heads when Jason shows back up, shouting.

"HEY, DID YOUR NOTEPAD SAY "LEARNS LANGUAGES VIA SALIVIC EXCHANGE" BY THE WAY? HOW DID YOU FIND THAT OUT?"

Damian turns back to you with burning cheeks. He notices that you blush gold, too.

[heliosunny]

Hello! I was curious what your take on the Amphoreus men’s reactions would be to a sick or even injured reader? I had bad nausea and a migraine today, bedridden and all, (but I’m better now!) and I fear if I was their darling they’d think I’m pregnant or something dumb like that 😂

Wishing you a lovely day! Thank you for sharing your writings ❤️

I'm sick atm so Imma answer this. Glad to hear u got better.

When you're sick

🌿 Anaxa

At first, he's simply observing. He doesn't react strongly, but his mind is already working to figure out what’s wrong.

(Watching you struggle to sit up, his eyes gleaming with amusement at first.)

Anaxa: “How fascinating. Your skin is warmer than usual, your pupils slightly dilated… Could it be a poison? Did someone poison you? Or perhaps a parasite? I do wonder.”

Anaxa is unsettlingly calm as he begins testing different treatments on you (you poor thing). You say it’s just a cold? He doesn’t believe you.

(You groan, insisting it’s just a cold. He hums, unconvinced, swirling a dark liquid in a glass.)

Anaxa: “Drink this. It may cure you, or at the very least, give me something new to analyze.”

(He scares you, but he only wants the best for you. Such hypocrite.)

Pregnancy thought? Unlikely. He’s too logical for that, he's looking for tangible symptoms. However, if he does think it, it’s because he wants to study the changes in your body up close.

(You woke up just to see his hand already inspecting your stomach.)

Anaxa: “We managed to put a baby in here huh. Don't you move, I'll take very good care of you.”

(You pushed him away soon after and refused to drink or eat anything from him.)

🐶 Phainon

His smile starts to fade when he heard the news. You have a minor fever?

(He barges into the room)

Phainon: “You're going to die? Don't leave me! I can't bear the thought of living all alone...”

(Lays you in bed dramatically like you’re on your deathbed.)

If you say it’s just a cold, he’ll be offended and insist that you need “proper royal treatment.”

(He tucked you in so tight you can't even move.)

Phainon: “I always know that you're not as strong as me, but I didn't expect you to be sick. I will feed you, every day, don't worry.”

Pregnancy thought? that’s not possible… unless…

(You tell him to calm down, but he ignores you, crouching beside your bed with a look of pure anguish.)

Phainon: “What if it’s something deadly? What if *gasp you’re with child?!? Whose? Mine?”

(You choke on your own saliva at his ridiculous assumption.)

Phainon: “Stay right here, I’ll summon someone immediately!”

(He rushes out before you can protest. You are doomed.)

🦁Mydei

At first, he just watches you suspiciously. When he realizes it’s real, he softens… a little.

He doesn’t fuss, but he becomes overbearing in a quiet way. He forces you to rest, doesn’t let you lift a single finger.

(Arms crossed, standing near the door, eyes narrowed as he watches you weakly sip your drink.)

Mydei: “If you’re too weak to hold a cup properly, you shouldn’t be holding it at all.”

(You glare at him, muttering that you can take care of yourself.)

Mydei: “Clearly.” (Sarcastic. He takes the cup from your hands and forces you to lie down.) “Rest.”

If you get worse, he just picks you up and hauls you off to a doctor, no questions asked.

He’ll be stubbornly glued to your side until you’re better.

Pregnancy thought? The possibility crosses his mind, but he immediately throws it out because he would’ve known if anything like that was possible.

When you're injured

🌿 Anaxa

He is completely unfazed. Even if you’re bleeding out, he will only act calm and professional while getting out his medical tools.

(Kneeling beside you, observing the wound with a calm, almost clinical expression.)

Anaxa: “Hm. A deep cut. The bleeding is slowing, but the damage is substantial.”

You swear he’s a doctor with how efficiently he patches you up—but he makes little effort to comfort you. Rather, he finds it interesting to mess with you.

(You wince as he prods at the wound. He doesn’t even warn you.)

Anaxa: “I expected better. Letting yourself get hurt like this… Have you always been so careless?”

(You glare at him.)

Anaxa: “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This is your own fault, after all. Still, if I find out someone else dares hurt you... nevermind.”

🐶Phainon

Trying to hold back his anger, won't let it shows in front of you. You can only see his good side.

(His entire body is tense as he kneels beside you, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turn white.)

Phainon: “Who did this?”

(You try to downplay it, but his eyes still burning with fury.)

Once he’s calmed down, he scoops you up and takes you to the best healer available.

He’s genuinely shaken up by it and might get overly protective afterward. Even minor scrapes will have him wrapping you up in bandages like a mummy.

Phainon: “And once you’re healed, you are never leaving my sight again. I won’t allow it.”

🦁Mydei

He’s surprisingly calm when he sees you’re injured, but it’s the eerie kind of calm. He’s not saying much, but the rage is there.

He doesn’t panic, he assesses your wound like a warrior, checking the severity before deciding what to do.

(He crouches beside you, examining the wound with an eerily quiet intensity.)

Mydei: “You’re bleeding.”

(You bite back a sarcastic remark. He rips off a piece of his sleeve, pressing it against the wound with firm but careful hands.)

Mydei: “Does it hurt?”

(You hesitate. He looks at you, his sharp gaze unyielding.)

Mydei: “Good. Remember it.”

Two priorities:

Getting you treated.

Finding whoever did this and destroying them.

No more fights. No more risks. You are staying where he can see you.

(He finishes bandaging the wound, then stands, offering you his hand.)

Mydei: “Come. You’re not walking alone.”

[crazydeershark]

Broken souls

Part 1.

Jason Todd x Civilian!Fem reader

Both Jason and reader are 15 to 16 here.

Summary: How you met Jason, your life before his death. Your bond and connection.

Warnings: blood.

A/n: Hi, I’ve never wrote ff before so please ignore any possible mistakes, remember its just fiction and enjoy!

It was a usual school night. You had a ton of homework, laying on your bed, text books spread around you. Your little bed lamp emanating a soft warm glow.

Yes, it was past your “bed time”, as if that mattered. Thankfully, your parents were gone on a date. You weren’t a child anymore. Who cared if you were gonna get that stupid F? You were far too tired to study more.

Until- *bang*. A loud, violent crash echoed trough your window.

Shit shit shit.

Yes, Gotham was a dangerous city, with at least 10 break ins, deaths or crimes being on the news every night. Was it some sort of robber? Killer? Rapist?

Silence. Deadly silence.

You quickly tip toed out of your room, opening your kitchen drawer, grabbing the biggest knife you could find. Phone in hand, already dialling 911. Sweaty hands shaking. You get left alone for one night and this is what happens?!

You were pretty sure you heard your window slide up. No. Maybe it was just a bird or something that crashed against your window. You were not delusional. Right? You were on the 4th flour after all.

Murders can climb.

You were panicking.

Suddenly, you heard a creak. Your door. Opening.

“Stay back! Im calling the police!” You yelled, voice trembling in fear. Was this genuinely it? Were you gonna die? Just like that?

“It’s okay! Im not gonna do you any harm!” You heard a boy-ish voice. He did sound pretty young.

“What do you want?!”

“Will you stop screaming?!”

“You’re screaming too!”

Silence, again. What the heck was going on?

“Okay, I’m going to open the door now. Don’t freak out or whatever.”

You held you knife in front of the door regardless.

Until you saw him. Red suit. Green shorts. The yellow “R” on his chest. Domino mask covering his eyes. Robin!

“Oh my god! Robin?!”

“And you’re back to yelling. Look, I-“

“Sorry.” You quickly apologized. “ I know you! I saw you on the news! You work with Batman!” You didn’t care if you were yelling. You couldnt keep your excitement in.

“You solved that case! With Two-Face! I heard he’s in Arkham Asylum now..”, you wouldn’t stop talking. “…you’re bleeding!” You pointed to his arm and thigh. Severe injures, blood dripping to your floor.

“Yeah, been trying to tell you ‘bout that.”

He explained how some guys were chasing him, his arm and leg got injured so he had to hide somewhere. Something about how he was trying to land on the roof and crashed into your apartment. Accidentally, of course.

After that, you slowly got used to his regular visits. At first, he came to thank you for helping him with his wounds, bringing you chocolates. You found that sweet.

Then he just kept coming, making excuses about how “he was tired,” or “he couldn’t find Batman”. It was hilarious.

You knew the truth, but you didn’t mind his visits after all. He was sweet, caring, and extremely funny. You liked that about him.

He was handsome too. Wavy, brunette locks falling over his forehead. His taller figure towering over you, and a smile he could barely hold in when he was around you.

You admired his skills, even if you found his suit “funny-looking”. (That actually offended him.)

You got close over time. He really liked you. Your smile, your jokes. You were perfect in his eyes. It was more than just a teenage crush to him. No one had ever listened to him or treated him like you did.

He took you up on rooftops, helped you sneak out. You saw how damaged yet beautiful Gotham was at night. Crime-ridden and corrupt, yet stunning.

His visits kept on going for a year and a half. Batman did find out, eventually. But he didn’t get the chance to speak with Robin.

One night, he showed up with flowers. Beautiful pink lilies. You loved them, but there was something else he had to tell you.

“Listen, I like you.” You listened closely, noticing the way his ears turned pink. “Im going on a mission, with Batman.”

“And… I really want to tell you who I am, sorry- I’m not the best at this-“

He was quickly silenced by a peck on the lips. You liked him too. You loved him.

His cheeks turned fully red that time.

You had to stay humble, because you were a tomato yourself.

Jason. His name was Jason. It suited him, you couldn’t explain it, but it did. He couldn’t wait to tell you, it was typical Robin.

He told you the mission would take two weeks, you listened patiently. He was going to come see you, reveal his identity. He promissed.

And you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Two weeks passed. Slowly, but they passed.

Then three weeks,

A month,

Two months,

Robin was nowhere to be seen, or found. Batman returned with no sight of him.

You were left confused, and most of all broken. Did he return and not tell you? Where was he? Was this all some sort of sick joke?

No. It couldn’t be. He was Robin, your friend, your Robin.

The worst part of it, you had no one to talk to.

No one, at all. Your parents would have thought you wanted attention. Your friends would’ve said you were making it all up.

No one would have ever believed you.

And that hurt. It was the type of hurt you had never experienced, like someone took a sharp blade and sliced your heard in pieces.

You never got over it. You never stopped searching.

Weeks had turned into months. Months had turned into years.

All you could do was..move on, and wonder if any of it was ever real. Or if you were just imagining it.

A/n: alrrr what do y’all think?? I hope this is good enough. Also if you noticed grammar mistakes please point them out! English isn’t my first language!

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I love your writing and I love that you post so frequently! Could you wrote a fic based on the scene in the finally in which Rupert tells West Ham's coqch to take Jamie out? Could be a separate story (maybe Y/N is Richmond's lawyer) and she finds out and wants to finish Rupert? Or in the P/A universe and Jamie teases her about being protective and caring about him after she stands up to Rupert?

Thanks!

Red Card

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, angry Y/N, sexist joke from Rupert

A/N: I hope it's okay that I used your request for a Jamie Tartt x PA ff, I thought it fit so well. Thank you for the idea!

The energy in Nelson Road was electric. The stands were packed with Richmond fans, their chants echoing through the stadium as the team prepared for one of their toughest matches yet. The anticipation was palpable, the tension thick in the air, but none of it compared to the storm brewing inside her the moment she overheard Rupert Mannion’s words.

Y/N wasn’t even supposed to be standing on the sidelines during the match—technically, her job as Jamie Tartt’s personal assistant didn’t require her to be this close to the action. But after years of working with Jamie, she’d become part of Richmond’s inner circle, always hovering near the dugout with Roy, Beard, and Ted, ready to handle whatever ridiculous emergency Jamie threw at her.

But tonight? Tonight, she was glad she was there.

Because she overheard everything.

Standing just a few feet from West Ham’s technical area, she had no choice but to hear Rupert fucking Mannion—West Ham’s owner, snake, all-around waste of oxygen—lean toward his coach and murmur,

"Take Tartt out."

She had frozen, fingers tightening around the clipboard she had been holding.

"Hard. Do whatever it takes."

It was quiet. Calculated. Cruel.

Rupert’s voice was as smooth as it was poisonous, a quiet command given to West Ham’s coach, the kind of thing meant to be whispered in dark corners and carried out with no one the wiser. But she had heard it, and once she had, there was no way in hell she was going to let it slide.

It made something snap inside her.

Without thinking, she stormed across the grass, ignoring Roy’s “Oi, what the fuck are you doin’?” and Beard’s sharp “Y/N—don’t—”

She was already moving.

Marching straight up to him.

“Mister Mannion,” she said, voice saccharine-sweet with rage.

Rupert barely glanced at her. “Ah, Miss Y/L/N. Didn’t realize Jamie let his little assistant wander around unsupervised.”

She clenched her jaw. “I heard what you just said about Jamie.”

Rupert smirked. “Did you?”

“You told your coach to injure him.” Her voice was pure steel.

Rupert sighed, as if she were boring him. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Football is a physical sport.” He tilted his head, looking her over like she was some insignificant little thing he could swat away. “Though, I suppose you’d know all about being handled roughly. What’s Jamie got you doing these days? Fetching his water? Maybe warming his bed?”

Y/N lunged.

Her vision went red as she launched herself at him, fully prepared to end him right then and there.

Before she could so much as grab the smug bastard, two line refs yanked her back.

“Let me go—” she growled, twisting in their grip.

Roy and Ted were already jogging toward her, Roy looking absolutely thrilled and Ted looking like he was suppressing laughter.

One of the refs shook his head. “Sorry, miss, but you’re outta here.”

She stood beside Roy and Ted on the touchline, fuming, while the referee held up the red card like she was some kind of violent offender.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Ted said, ever the peacemaker. “Now, I don’t wanna tell ya how to do your job, sir, but surely we can all agree that giving someone a red card when they aren’t technically a player is a little… excessive?”

“It’s the rules,” the ref said flatly.

“She doesn’t even play, mate!” Roy barked. “You can’t send her off!”

The ref shrugged. “Rules are rules.”

Roy, arms crossed, scowled so hard he looked ready to combust. “It’s a stupid fucking rule.”

“Stupid or not, she has to leave,” the ref insisted.

Y/N threw her arms in the air. “Oh, come on! I didn’t even do anything.”

The linesman coughed. “You tried to assault West Ham’s owner.”

“Tried being the keyword,” she snapped. “If you lot hadn’t held me back, I’d have succeeded.”

Rupert, still standing smugly nearby, let out a low chuckle. “My, my,” he said, voice dripping with condescension. “I didn’t realize Jamie’s assistant was so… passionate about her job.”

Y/N whirled back toward Rupert. “You’re a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man,” she seethed.

Rupert only chuckled, waving his fingers at her like she was some little girl throwing a tantrum. “Run along now.”

The rage inside her burned.

“If anyone on West Ham lays a hand on Jamie, I swear to God, I will—”

Rupert tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “It looks an awful lot like you’re getting rather—” his lips curled into a smirk, “—emotionally involved with your client.”

The audacity of this man.

She felt the anger boiling in her chest, sharp and blinding, but before she could lunge, two line refs grabbed her arms, holding her back.

“Ohhh, I hate you,” she seethed.

Rupert just smiled, infuriatingly unbothered. “Careful now, boys. Wouldn’t want Jamie’s newest toy to get too scratched up before he inevitably trades her in for someone better.”

That was it. That was her breaking point.

She surged forward, only for the refs to tighten their grip, dragging her back toward the tunnel.

“LET ME AT HIM,” she yelled, legs kicking uselessly as she was forcibly removed.

“Jesus Christ,” Roy muttered, but there was unmistakable approval in his tone.

Ted just sighed. “Well, that went about as well as we could’ve hoped.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the way he dismissed her or the fact that she couldn’t do a damn thing about it, but she let the refs drag her off, still spitting curses as Roy followed them, arguing the whole way.

Jamie, standing on the pitch, barely caught the end of it—just enough to see his PA being forcibly escorted out, Roy yelling at the ref, and Y/N looking ready to kill someone.

He frowned. “What the fuck?”

Isaac, jogging up beside him, snorted. “Mate, Y/N just got a red card. She got sent off.”

“Right. And… why?” Jamie blinked. “She ain’t even a player.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got more fight in her than half of us,” Isaac muttered.

Sam, ever the optimist, said, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explana—”

“—Apparently she tried to murder Mr. Mannion,” Colin interrupted.

Jamie’s eyes widened. “Oh, fuckin' hell.”

Jamie found her in the locker room after the game, sitting on one of the benches with her arms crossed, scowling at the floor.

She barely glanced up as he walked in.

He leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, smirking. “So.”

She huffed. “So.”

He tilted his head. “Wanna tell me why my personal assistant got sent off the pitch? ’Cause, I gotta say, love, that’s a new one—even for you.”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Rupert told his coach to target you. To hurt you.”

Jamie felt something twist in his stomach. He wasn’t surprised—not really—but hearing it from her, hearing how angry she was about it…

It did something to him.

Before he could respond, she turned to face him fully, eyes blazing. “And then that prick had the audacity to say some sexist bullshit about me, and I—” She clenched her fists. “I snapped.”

Jamie smirked. “You snapped.”

“Yes.”

“And got dragged off the pitch.”

“Yes.”

“And got a red card even though you don’t play football.”

She groaned, rubbing her face. “Yes.”

Jamie couldn’t help it—he laughed.

Y/N shot him a glare. “Jamie.”

“Nah, nah, I’m just—” He shook his head, grinning. “You got sent off tryin’ to protect me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.” A really sexy thing. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Admit it. You care about me.”

She scoffed. “Of course, I care about you. You’re my job.”

Jamie smirked. “And?”

“And nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jamie leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “You sure sure?”

Y/N shoved him. “Shut up, Jamie.”

He laughed, stepping back. “Alright, alright.” He crossed his arms, eyes still bright with amusement. “But just so you know—next time, if you’re gonna get sent off, at least make it worth it.”

She huffed. “Oh, trust me. Next time, I’m throwing a punch.”

Jamie grinned. “Now that, love, I’d pay to see.”

And even though he teased her for it—because of course he would—he couldn’t help but feel something warm settle in his chest.

Because she had fought for him.

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Sounds good to me," Travis said with a small grin, "As your followers don't mind two possibly annoying Bostonians."

"Yes, I won't object to that myself," Simon said, "And I suppose you really are as annoying as two Bostonians, Travis, you're right."

"Hey!" Travis said, although he was chuckling a bit. Russell had to hide a small smile himself.

"And I am happy to be friends with him," Leofric said, with a brief nod, as he allowed Smokey to stay where he was, "I am just giving myself a refresher of what would be best to make for when we face him again."

As far as Leofric was concerned, another confrontation was inevitable. Russell shrugged.

"Well, it, it helps that, that I don't look, look like much," Russell said, tugging at a sleeve, before making his voice and stance were as firm as possible, "And so it's, it's pretty easy to, to pretend I'm some poor, poor scared little, little mouse, and, and he, he indeed fell, fell for it. If, if, if it hadn't been for, for those fuck-fucking sleep spores, I, I would have, I would have killed him. Would, would have kept going until he, he was just a red, a red puddle on, on the floor."

They didn't need to know that his whole plan was to injure Five and run while he could. Not now, if ever.

"It was better that you fled when you started feeling off or he might have killed you first while you were unconscious," Leofric said, keeping the act up for the time being.

"I, I sup, I suppose so," Russell said, before looking at the Twins, "Hm, I, I guess that's true. I, I still don't, don't have to like what, what happened at, at the time."

"Of course not," Bill agreed, before stepping back to allow the Twins some space so they could look closely, "Yes, I suppose it's a good thing that you two have some kind of conscience left, despite everything. Did I tell you that Five tortured Leofric too? Tortured a dog even though said dog wasn't posing a threat at the time?"

"We don't need to talk about that right now," Leofric just said, without looking up from his grimoire.

"Huh, it is kind of like Amnesia," Bill said, "And yeah, fuck him, I'm with you there, in the metaphorical sense of course."

Russell nodded as he started writing down the Twins' descriptions. Simon was typing too.

"That's why I, I didn't make him any, any offers," Russell said, "I, I got standards too."

"And when those three are done with him and got everyone they need out of his mouth," Travis said, "I'll make him wish I just killed him for the things he's done."

"You guys are going to join in next time I'm streaming that game." Rook said, pointing at Travis.

"Yes, he's okay. There's a lot of energy around here so he can leave me behind for a bit." Erica explained, "You'll figure him out. He wants to be friends, though."

Erica scratched her head. Maybe the fact Smokey was a ghost from another world made him more difficult to understand. Hopefully, his presence wasn't going to be an issue. It looked like Leofric was doing important work.

"It's good that you put up a real nice show-"

"-Five drank it all up."

Really, playing the helpless victim had been a genius move in retrospective, especially now that they knew that Russell wasn't just a regular guy with insanely good luck.

"We were close by because that's how you do the job right."

"You don't drag the hostage around the block in the middle of the day."

They were proud mercs, they did their job with the professionalism that was expected of them. The Twins chose to ignore Rook's skeptic look and got to pointing out the gadgets they had seen in action.

"These are the ones he used on Coffee Boss."

"And he used that to strangle some...monster. That one was kinda ugly."

"Good to know you've got a sensibility left to hurt." Rook snapped, moving the ring in question away from the rest, "It feels like I'm playing Amnesia again."

It only took a slight rotation for the ring to activate with a snap. Tommy wasn't wrong. Whoever got stuck in that would have two very sharp spikes digging into their flesh to hold it in place.

"Fuck that guy."

The Twins couldn't disagree with Rook there. Ratchet was just as messed up as Five.

[bigscotman]

I don't know how exactly the Lazarus Pits work and it's really gonna show here but:

What if when Jason gets blown up some of him is lost, by which I mean now he's missing his right arm and that side of his face is fucked up in the same way Two-Face's is. When Talia first picks him up she's concerned Ra's will just have him killed or something like that but for some reason he doesn't? and Jason becomes the best bodyguard/assassin/babysitter she could ask for.

Then Ra's starts to imply he is going to have Jason killed even though it's been well over a year now so Talia dumps him in the pit and she isn't entirely sure what will happen since her father has never been injured like this before being put in the pit before, dead yes but not injured in this way.

Here's where the prompt diverges into 3(?) paths

1) Jason does his Red Hood shit just now he's only got one arm or maybe an older model LoA prosthetic that she managed to smuggle to him that is just the worst.

2) go down the biopunk/body horror route and give Jason some sort of Prototype esque shapeshifting monster arm and go from there

3) it heals Jason's face so while still highly scared it's now more rugged charm than it is pepperoni pizza left in the oven too long, and Jason now has a right shoulder but that's about it. He stays in the LoA and eventually when he officially becomes Damian's Shadow (Dark Angel? Whatever the actual term is) he is gifted with a ridiculously expensive and advanced cybernetic arm(think cyberpunk 2077) that's also loaded with god knows how many weapons. Also I don't know how but in this timeline I want Jason to box Clark with retractable literal kryptonite knuckles.

[hn-undercover-9503]

uh oh look who got possessed at 4 in the morning and stayed up for another hour exorcising the demons (writing idea)

post-wano zosan/sanzo {platonic or romantic, doesn't matter which way} that spawned from me thinking too hard about the death pact

Most of his crew have already either passed out from the party, or are still recovering inside of the shogun's castle. Last he saw, Franky and Jinbe were the only ones still awake and mingling with the Wano residents. It was almost surreal, this grandiose party, after such a huge battle where there were no less than three times that he was sure they were dead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It's well past midnight by now, and yet, the lanterns of the Flower Capital burn just as bright as they did hours before. They light up the night sky, thousands of them drifting into the clouds, high among the stars. Sanji hasn't been able to take his eyes off of them for the last hour. His head is pleasantly foggy, stomach full and body at ease. It's especially nice after the special level of hell all of them went through today. Sitting outside and watching the lights over his head and listening to the sound of a country celebrating the end of its long reign of suffering–it’s comforting, in the kind of way he feels like it's been a while since he felt able to bask in.

But they aren't dead–Sanji and all of his crew are still alive, and victorious.

Some would probably chock up their win to luck, or to random chance. Sanji knows better. He understands that there's one reason, and one reason only, that he's able to sit here on this deck and stare up at the beautiful lanterns containing the dreams and desires of a whole country. And as of right now, that reason is off sawing logs about three rooms away from him.

He could fall asleep out here, he thinks. The weather is perfect, and the noise of the crowd is surprisingly comforting. It's easy for all of it to fade into the background, becoming a soothing hum in the back of his head as his eyes slip closed without him even thinking about it. His body still feels heavy, and honestly, he can use the rest. He may not have been as grievously injured as some of his crew, but he's no stranger to what it feels like to be overworked. Even in this new, strange body, he knows he shouldn't be keeping himself awake after going through what he did.

Unfortunately for him, fate is a cruel mistress.

Just as he feels himself about to drift off completely, there's a dull pain from his side. He sighs, not having the energy to launch an outright attack on whoever's dumb enough to jab him in the ribs when he's sleeping. Instead, he opens one eye and glares up at the figure leaning over him until his tired eyes finally focus.

"Oi," the mosshead grunts, poking him in the side with the scabbard of his newest sword, before seeing Sanji's awake and resting it over his shoulder. "I gotta talk to you, Cook."

Sanji groans, sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes. His body cries out its protests, demanding he lay back down and promptly pass out for about thirty eight hours, but he ignores it for now. He sits up and turns a half-hearted glare onto the swordsman as he lowers himself to sit on the deck beside him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Marimo?" Sanji grumbles, looking back up at the sky. It's a far less irritating sight than walking fungi keeping him awake. "You look like shit."

Zoro grunts. "Could say the same for you."

"I'm better off than you, shitty swordsman." He quips back immediately, digging into his pocket for his cigarettes purely on instinct. "You didn't have to lug me around a whole castle for several minutes, now, did you?"

"Shut up," Zoro tells him, but there's not an ounce of bite to his tone. He's clearly just as exhausted as Sanji is, probably more. So then...

"What are you here for, Marimo?"

Zoro is quiet for a while–too long, in Sanji's opinion. He looks away from the sky and catches sight of a downturn to the swordsman's lips, his eyebrows pulled together like he's trying really hard to use his singular brain cell to formulate his words. Sanji purses his lips and waits for it.

"During the fight," He begins slowly, slurring his words and drawing out the syllables. "You called me on the snail."

Sanji turns away, looking out over the sprawling crowd still partying on. Okay. That makes sense. He should have known that's what this would be about. He frowns.

"You asked me to kill you, cook." Zoro continues, now glancing at him directly and settling him with a glare that could have knocked out a hundred men. "I want you to tell me what the hell that was all about."

“Why, disappointed you couldn't hold up your end of the deal, Marimo?” He tries to deflect with a smirk right off the bat, but he knows it hasn't worked before he even finishes speaking. Zoro's glare hardens, and Sanji just sighs.

“It's not something I really wanna talk about.” He admits, pulling out his lighter and lighting himself a cigarette. “And it worked out, so you don't need to worry about it. Really.”

Zoro is clearly unconvinced by his assurance. “It's got something to do with you running off to marry that girl, doesn't it?”

“Not…exactly.” He clarifies, which he knows explains nothing. Zoro huffs out an agitated breath.

“If you don't tell me, I'll hafta cut you for it.”

Sanji chuckles. “You and I both know you're in no shape for a brawl right now, Marimo. So heel.”

Zoro rolls his eye at him. “Just–tell me.”

“Why do you wanna know so bad, huh?”

Zoro crosses his arms with a scoff. “You asked me to kill you, dumbass. And you expect me to just shrug it off?”

“Wow, who knew moss could think? So you're sentient after all, huh, Marimo?”

Zoro growls and digs an elbow into his side. It's clear by the pained hiss he lets out afterwards that the action hurt him more than it did Sanji.

He winces and runs at it anyway, if only so he doesn't do it again. After taking a particularly long drag from his cigarette, he breathes out a cloud of smoke and leans back on the deck, face turned up to the sky again. “Fine. But if you really want the whole story, you're gonna be here a while.”

Zoro grunts again and then he's setting his swords aside to lay back next to him, also looking up at the sky. “Just tell me, stupid cook.”

He sighs again, more smoke escaping from his lips. It fades away against the backdrop of night sky, stars, and lanterns. “You got the story of my family from Luffy, I assume?”

“Bits and pieces–I know they weren't your family family.”

Sanji smiles, because of course Luffy would describe it like that. “Yeah. Well, turns out I made a mistake. Using that bastard's weapon, his raid suit–it…did something to me.”

Zoro shifts from beside him, and when he glances over he's sitting up on his elbow to look down at him. “The hell does that mean?”

“My siblings were all born superhuman. Reinforced bodies, crazy fast healing, the works. I wasn't like them. I was just a regular old human.”

Zoro frowns at him. “That a bad thing?”

“In the eyes of the bastard, it was unforgivable.” Sanji shrugs, taking another drag just for the sake of it. “But I preferred it that way–once I got older, at least. My mom died to make sure I got to stay human. I owe everything to what she gave me.” His eyes burn as he prepares his next words, and they stick to his throat when he speaks again. “But because I was a selfish idiot…I wasted her gift.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, swirly?”

Sanji takes a deep breath and another drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs completely and settle his racing heart. “The raid suit. When I wore the suit, it must've triggered something. When I was fighting Queen, my body felt strange. It'd been happening for days, but I didn't think anything of it before. And then Queen got me trapped and I should've been dead, but I wasn't. I could feel my bones shattering, my organs rupturing–but when he let me go, I was fine. Like nothing even happened.”

“So you got strong bones and super healing. Who gives a shit?”

“...those aren't the only traits my siblings share.” Sanji pinches the end of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “They don't experience emotion. At all. It's why they make the perfect war machines. Can't feel bad about destroying a country if you can't feel anything.”

Zoro stays quiet for a while again, and this time is even more nerve-wracking than the last. Anxious, Sanji forces himself to sit up on his elbow and look over to him. His face is impassive, unreadable. Sanji's heart rate speeds up again.

Finally, Zoro grunts yet again. “You're stupid, cook.”

“Wha–” Sanji sputters for a second before the words catch up to him. “Oh, fuck you! I give you my whole story and you're insulting me?” He throws himself back into the deck with a huff. “I don't know why I even bother–”

“You feel too much to never feel anything, idiot.”

Sanji blinks, turning his head again to look at him. He's sitting up now, hunched over and glaring at him. There's no heat behind his steely gaze, though.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” This time, Zoro jabs a thumb into his side and Sanji lets out an undignified yelp, pushing out of his reach before he can get any more bright ideas. “Your dumb bleeding heart is too damn big to feel nothing. And you're stupid for thinking it could ever come close.”

Sanji scowls at him. “You don't understand. There was a moment there when I lost control. I thought I–”

“You thought? Thought what, shit cook?” The swordsman barks out a laugh. “Thought you did something terrible and evil, huh? Something that would make you wanna die to my swords?”

“I thought I hit a woman.”

Zoro stares at him for a second before bursting out laughing. “Well? Didja?”

Sanji grits his teeth and reaches out a leg to land a kick to his side, even as his body screams more protests. “Of course not, asshole! I would never–”

“Then shut up about it, would ya?” Zoro yawns, shoving his leg away haphazardly and laying back on the deck with his arms folded behind his head. “That when you called me?”

He frowns, turning back to look at the sky again. “Around there.”

Zoro lets out a deep breath, eye slipping closed. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Maybe you were.” Sanji admits quietly, watching as the lanterns bob and sway on the sudden breeze. “...hey,”

Zoro grunts instead of replying with words, because he's a caveman at heart.

“I know you think it's stupid…but if it did happen. You'll still keep up your end, won't you?”

The swordsman is silent for so long that Sanji's sure he's gone to sleep. But when he turns around to look at him, the other is staring right at him. For some reason, the look in his singular eye raises the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Course I will.” He eventually says, laying his head back. “But it won't. So shut up and go to sleep.”

Sanji smiles, laying back onto the deck once again. He shuts his eyes, and the pleasant hum of festivities sets over him once more. “That was the plan, at least until a certain mossball decided to interrupt me.”

“I don't need a fucking deal to kill you, shit cook.”

“I'd like to see you try, Marimo.”

[bananaactivity]

Davenport Family Headcanons and portraits for shits and giggles

There are 8 of these mother fuckers so buckle in. Some background info is in another post but ill probably add that part in as re-blog thing... anyways enjoy my yapping

Davenport Family

Donald Matthew Davenport ( 44 ) January 8, 1971

The Daven-family figurehead and oldest Davenport son. A genius who works well with tech related to transportation, communication, personal protection, training, security systems, and helpful but basic AI ( think eddy). His work was praised heavily within the market that Davenport Industries existed in. He noticed his brother getting in with some shady investors and tried to stop him leading to a huge argument and a few months of not being able to reach him he found out that Douglas had been horribly injured and killed. He took the time to gather his brother's possessions finding the bionic children and taking them in. He raised them keeping them sheltered so that the government would stop messing with them. Eventually, he married Tasha and had a stepson in Leo who convinced him that it was safe for the kids, and he's had a kinda stressful but great love-filled life since. Eventually, his brother returned and after being mad for a bit he soon got right back into the swing with his baby brother. He was so happy to have his brother back after eleven years. Still bullying him of course but it's all love. He is kind and smart and very nervous. He isn't stingy with his money either, he does a lot of charity events for struggling kids who wanna do S.T.E.M. He looks at some kids who remind him of his brother as being a bit strange. He doesn't discourage them but helps them move in ways that won't hurt them in the long run. You can be an alternative scientist without getting dropped in like his bro. Sadge :( Sometimes he crashes out but it's a nervous crash out. Sometimes the kids really mess up and you really gotta step back and be like… okay guys bsfr. His little brother was a mad scientist and a handful, he was stressed. And his “death” made him sad. Rose is also a stressor she thinks he's a wimp :(. He was a Hippie, a “playboy”, a big goofy nerd, he's gone through many phases. He loves all his children. I never minded them calling him Mr. Davenport. Though I will say mostly Chase does it in my AU. Not for trauma reasons he's just silly. They all call him Dad and Leo calls him Big D. Marcus and Dan call him Uncle D.( For a long time he would just talk to Eddy instead of people before he met Tasha. Eddy is just a helpful assistant with a personality he always made me mad as a kid. He can keep some personality but I don't like the Tasha disrespect keep it P with my queen. )

BI- curious for a while ( He had a fling with Peirce Harrington way back when they were in a fraternity together at some fancy Uni. You know Frat boys, I do. Freaks.)

Douglas Patrick Davenport ( 42)

April 6, 1974

The Daven-family emo child and youngest Davenport son. A genius who is a bit unethical and does crazy work related to human enhancement, cognitive modification, bioweapons, and biotechnology, really pushing human and technological capacities while blending them. His work was highly controversial of course, it was kind of taboo when talking with people interested in Davenport Industries. Though many “darker” people were interested in his work, Doug hadn't received much praise due to the macabre of his expertise. So he entertained these investors getting himself into a dicey situation, leading to a blowout with his brother in 2002. Doug's situation was a little dire so he faked his death having to leave behind ABC. He could only take the Androids. He stayed in his dark angry hole. Mad that his brother was still thriving while he kept up this new evil stuff. Hoping that the children he had to leave were okay. He got into it with some more dicey figures eventually meeting Krane who was interested after reading some of Dougs old Highschool blog posts about bionics. Doug had already lost a lot of money so he planned to get his kids back but ended up defecting back to his family… he loves them.

Douglas loves his kids. They don't call him Dad, he’s Douglas. Sometimes Uncle Dougy. Leo calls him Lil D. He told him to stop. He didn't. He understands he made choices and that resulted in them being left. He had only come back to exploit them for money… bros, not the dad. He is to his android boys and that's great. He loves um. He enjoys going to Dons charity events. Seeing kids like him with alt ideas. And he sees his brother helping and encouraging them. He'd take back some of his choices if he could but he's glad of the few positive impacts they had. He's still alt, maybe a freaky idea here a crazy thought experiment there. But he knows to reign it in now. He was getting a bit too crazy perhaps, may have broken many moral rules there but he loves his family. Perry thought he was a butch lesbian when they met but then they became friends and she was like ohhh. 

Bro doesn't care if he likes you he likes you, I think Perry is the same but she has some preferences. ( What if I shipped him with agent Graham what then? You can't stop me lol)

Tasha Francine Davenport ( 44)

April 6, 1974

A mother, a businesswoman, the baddie. She divorced Leos's dad and they don't talk about that bitch who cares. Her son is her baby she loves him. She loves Donald a lot too when they met he was pretending he was a Donald Davenport look-alike who worked at a coffee shop. He called himself Conrad Shadingfort. ( Bro is supposed to be a genius wtf)  they ended up hanging out. He bought the coffee shop she frequented just so he could continue working there to see her. She knew the whole time and thought he was just being silly,. He hung out with her for 2 years and got to meet Leo too. When he wanted to ask her out he told the truth and she was like: “Huh? You thought I believed you?? Well, you’re so cute and silly and I like you so I will go out with you!” He kept the coffee shop as a business also having made a bunch of cool gadgets to help the employees. It was a cool spot lol. And then they got married later yay! Now she loves all the Davenport children even the androids lol. She doesn't have the baby yet (I'm bad at drawing babees) She is sweet and caring and knows when to do things for her because it isn't selfish. 

Tasha is Demiromantic yayyyy

Adam Robert Davenport ( 19) July 7, 1996

Good ol’ Adam. My fav, my boy. He is so relatable, I relate heavily. I'm the older sibling I'm the silly sibling (I stand by Adam is just into absurdist humor with a heavy commitment to the bit, and isn't dumb. Bro says stupid shit on accident and on purpose and you'll never know ) When he Bree, and chase bully each other its normal sibling level. He never uses his super strength with his siblings; it is just his normal strength. Which is a lot mind you but it doesn't hurt it's just irritating. He's still a Taylor fan, but if this took place in 2024, he would add Chapplle Roan to his playlist quickly. I'm not a big Tay or Chapplle enjoyer, but I won't ever let that affect Adam’s truth. You know what he likes Billie and Sabrina too, Laufey, Solange, Nicki, Doechii, he loves women's music artists, all of them. They're all baddies who slay according to him, Even if they didn't make music in 2011-2016. He's super chill no stress on his bones unless someone touches his siblings. Yall should know how he gets when they're in danger. “ I can call my sibling a dusty bum bitch, but if you even look at them wrong I'm beating your ass.” Adam is a big animal lover he's been asking Donald to branch out with animal charity events and he's working on it yay ( Adam and Douglas began to bond over animals. Especially dogs)

He's isn't labeled like I said he's chill, I relate bro, love him. His preferences do align with aroace ( so relatable bruh) He's just silly yayyyy!

His abilities are under the L-P Chip: Lasers, strength, lung capacity, “big blue fart that blows shit up” as he calls it, and durability.

Bree Downy Davenport ( 18) November 22, 1997

Bree. another Baddie. Bad-bree. Sorry. She's silly, not a super slob like that one gross-ass episode but she's a bit of a fem-tomboy ig. Catching frogs and lizards carefully here, painting nails, and putting on baddie fits there. Finding interest in environmental issues a big fan of ethical tourism. She's been all across the earth. She's good at clocking her brother's tea ofc. She and Leo talk a lot, Leo has been in tons of AP classes and introduced her to AP Environmental Science she loved it and they joined the environment club together. She is obsessed with the island ecosystem as it is a man-made one. She's glad her brother Chase talked with Donald about making sure if he did this island thing that he made it as safe for the environment as possible and he did a good job. ( She and Douglas began to bond because while Douglas was “dead” he went to a lot of places, they talk about them and history all the time) She's not gonna get superpowers. Now that's something I'll get mad at, she has more bionic abilities they're just locked. If she was really feeling that useless (she's not) she could have asked Doug about unlocking another one.

She’s a bi queen. Also an elite-level fumbler. Not because she's a bad partner. Just so bad with expressing feelings so it never gets to that level.

Her abilities are under the S-S Chip: Super Speed, invisibility, wall stick, durability, and voice replication. She got rid of Spikerella she hated it.

( I don't like most of these portraits but this one just pisses me off like wtf happened to his face)

Chase Junior Davenport ( 18) August 5, 1997 Chase Chase Chase. He's on the case. He's very logical and often uses his computer brain for most tasks. It's like that one time they had a boys vs girls for no reason and he used his bionics immediately. He's always using his bionics just because of the computer brain. He's super lucky he can use two bionics at a time otherwise he'd be a dumbass while fighting. He also downloads apps to do most advanced tasks or hobbies, except guitar and martial arts which he learned on his own. ( He loves Radiohead, thats how he and Douglas began to bond heheh ) He pretends to hate Spike but also declines to get his app deleted. Spike always has his back even if he's a bit… dramatic and violent. This Chase is a bit more unsure and less cocky due to this Donald not being as cocky too. (That was def a learned behavior.) His identity took a while about to season three. When Leo first helped them assimilate into high school Chase thought he could download a bunch of teen movies to get ahead. Introducing him to a concept he literally never thought of. Having a partner. It always ended badly cause he just thought it was what he was supposed to do and he wasn't ever into it. This changes that one episode where Chase was tryna impress a girl and Adam was tryna stop him to Adam being like “ Bro you don't even like her stop before you hurt her fam..” Anyway, eventually he figured it out and told Adam who was like I coulda told you that fam..,

He's labeled Aroace and is very repulsed by everything. Leave his ass alone.

His abilities are under the I-S Chip: Computer brain that can do all computer stuff at elite computer speed, Laser Bo, Force field, telekinesis, Magnetism, durability, Spike, and enhanced senses

Leo Francis Dooley (17) May 7, 1998

I don't have many headcanons for Leo. He's perfect bro. Silly, perfect comedic timing, smart, and caring. He loves hanging out with Doug. He didn't need as much time to be bonded with him as ABC for obvious reasons. He and Marcus have beef most of the time though. That's how cousins be. He and Daniel are cool tho they love bullying Marcus together. He and Gordo though had a massive falling out ( Break up). Never again. He dated Jenelle, he had a tiny nemesis crush on Taylor. He’s single now.

He's a pan-king.

He doesn't have a chip but his abilities are plasma, energy-sucking or wtv, shields, and a strong leg,( his eyes are just aesthetic)

Marcus Julian Davenport ( 18) December 14, 1997

I don't have much to change about Marcus either. He's still a little freaky butthead. He loves his brother and he loves playing the guitar as well ( Radiohead enjoyer yayaya). He also does a bit of boxing, why not? His Archenemies are his Brother and Leo still, but in a goofy way not a murder way. He and Daniel were like the goofy duo tryna trick ABC and Leo. Marcus was intimidating while Dan was just being silly bonding with Leo. I just think it's funny if we just add Daniel to Marcus and Leo moments where Leo is clocking Marc's tea and Dan is just like “ Lol yeah Marcus is trash hehe”. He has a much better relationship with this Doug as Doug lets them be them and has never abandoned him. Doug was goin crazy when his sons got missing. He's so silly.

He's not super interested in relationships not in an aro way but just like not that interested. If he sees a bad bitch though who's to say lol

He has no chip; He has all Adam Bree and Chase's abilities both hidden and not.

Daniel Moore Davenport ( 13) March 21, 2002

When you look at the timeline you may see the name Danielle.( This is also a reference to Bree asking about why Doug never tried making another girl. He did here but Dan was like nah fam) Yah originally Doug was tryna do one female and male design. The female took a little longer which is why Dan is so much younger. After a few years tho Dan wasn't fucking with that. Doug was just like: Ya know what this is fine and a win. Bro is so sentient and observant he got body dysmorphia :(. He's just a silly boy now. He bullies his brother with Leo butttt... He has a lil crush on Spencer. (That's Spin's name that he uses with his non-friends but I think its funny to say) I think it'd be funny if Dan and Leo are bulling Marcus, but Spin comes in and bullies Leo causing Dan to turn around and swap sides. Then both Leo and Marcus side-eye him like: aw hell naw. I also think it's funny if they have that moment in the wimpy kid movies where Marcus is Rodrick looking at what Dan (Greg) is looking at ( it's Spencer ( Holly)) and he busts out laughing: “ BROOOO NO WAY WILL THAT EVER HAPPEN! AHAHAH” I gotta draw that lol. Unfortunately, if you've read that one fanfic of mine you know that Spin is the leader of a team comprised of Daniel and Bob. And you also know how I feel about writing inter-team relationships. It would piss me off if my teammates started being all goo goo-eyed while we're on a mission like stopppp. So Bob has to watch his oblivious bestie and a dumb-ass android get themselves into avoidable shit. Bob went on a sabbatical from having crushes and now he's a chill guy ( he learned from Adam that hot babes aren't everything and to take time for himself, bros 15 he's gotta chill) Anyways…

Dan does identify as trans and hes another guy whos chill unless he has a crush ( he thinks Spin is so cool bro awww he just wants to hold handsssss )

He has no chip and his ability is the replication of all tech not just bionic. Like if he touches a megaphone he can amplify his voice or record things and amplify them. can save up to two bionics in a folder to use without touching someone. If he wants to use a different two he has to clear his folder.

Back Ground Info for shits and giggles

How Bionics and Androids Work

There are three levels for Bionic Humans and five for Androids, here they are in order of Rank

Bionic Levels: Superior Bionics, Partial Bionics, Soldier Bionics

Andriod Levels: Superior Bionic Andriods, Superior Androids,  Androids, Basic Androids

There are only three Superior Bionics. Guess who? You never will… It's ABC, obviously. Subjects A, B, and C. They were the first to have chips, with so much care and passion put into them over the years Doug worked on their chips and embryos. They're irreproducable. Their bodies can handle the toll of bionics well, as they were grown and raised as embryos to do that. Yes, the chips can be fixed up if pieces are smashed but brand-new ones that have the same strength of capabilities can't be done. That's why they have the glowy-eye things in my art. Leos a special case shut it. The chips are called Lazer-Punchy, Intelligence-Smarty, and Speedy-Sneaky. L-P, I-S, and S-S, chips respectively. Doug is shit at naming things. This exclusivity was done so that the 3 are extra special I wanted as much separation from the super soldiers as possible. It was a little irritating back when that season aired to see how all these new bionic people made ABC less special but I didn't want to get rid of them. So now it's a spectrum. They can activate 2 bionics at a time more if they train super hard.

The Super Soldiers and Krane are Soldier Bionics. Significantly less strong and durable than the Superiors. They had bionics implemented later in life. (Super soldiers were orphans or homeless children taken by Krane with no family to return them to and also another reason) A lot of them in the case of Krane. Little did Krane know, but even if he wasn't defeated and destroyed or wtv, his excess of bionics would have killed him eventually. His body was deteriorating rapidly and he took a bunch of shit to cover up the pain like an idiot instead of realizing the actual issue. The amount of abilities he put in is what made him so strong and formidable but again his body would've completely collapsed eventually. That's actually what Geis was waiting on cause she wasn't as much of a dumbass. The island also provides a lot of health care to the super soldiers after saving them. That's also what got the government to back off again, How much care they needed and how “useless” they would be without this constant care and upkeep. Again they just are like an iPhone 8 to ABC's iPhone 11. if that means anything lol. They can only activate one bionic at a time.

Leo is the only Partial Bionic, again the tech was something Doug spent a while on. Bionics that can be used later in life without causing trauma to the receiver. He was preparing to sell it to Krane but he didn't which is why Krane did that worse thing. After Leos's severe almost fatal injury Doug had to try something. He used his plans on the injured areas (his legs, arms, and head) and this makes Leo Bioincs less strong than Superior Bionics but more stable than Soldier Bionics. Doug destroyed these original design books ( superior and partial) as he knew Krane would do anything to get his hands on something like that. Chase however has a file saved in his computer brain that can be accessed even if his bionics have been compromised. He can activate one bionic at a time, more if he trains.

There are only two Superior Bionic Andriods. Marcus and Daniel. M.A.R.C.U.S: Modular Android Reactive Construct Utilizing Sentience. D.A.N.I.E.L: Dynamic Android with Neural Intelligence and Emotional Logic . Again trash names dunno what Doug was doin. They have a level of sentience and intelligence that's pretty much like… Vision or Ultron ig. They have this humanity to them and I treat them as such thats why they're ‘bionic” androids. They are conscious completely, they have personalities completely. There are technically no limits to their use of bionic abilities as it relates to LR universe. Minus cooling systems and child locks ( on Daniel) that stop overheating. They can eat, drink, and sleep. They're anatomically accurate to humans as well. ( Not for freaky reasons ofc just Douglas trying to replicate human processes again this is what makes them bionic, they replicate humanity very well) Any fluids that a human can have are simulated by special liquids that need to be replaced once every 10 years. That being things like sweat, digestive fluids, tears, and blood. These are all simulations though, and if they aren't replaced it's no big deal just means they can't do any of that stuff like eat or sweat. It's all aesthetic that stuff, just Doug showing off. They also grow like a human again Doug being a show-off. Doug started them before ABC meaning technically Daniel is older than Adam lol, but he finished them at different times. Daniel wasn't conscious until 4 years after Marcus and 7 years after Adam. The reason is that it was much easier to leave Androids as a WIP than actively growing bionic children. (The androids start out toddler size cause it is easier to work with. just what I think seems reasonable not any science all of this is what I deem reasonably possible in a fake world, it's not even pseudoscience) They can use as many abilities as they want with consequences if they overdo it.

There is only one Superior Android, Troy. T.R.O-7:Tactical Robotic Operative 7. Troy is not a bionic android; he only looks like a human. He doesn't replicate any human functions, and he is not anatomically correct. He can't eat, sweat, cry, bleed, sleep, or grow. He looks exactly the same as when he was first finished. He does however have a complex personality, similar to the Bionic Androids. Hes like the… Friday to their Vision. If that means anything lol. Hes very vain ofc but he misses a lot of social cues and has a harder time empathizing. Gies didn't bother to fix these for reasons that'll be clearer in the next level. Geis started Troy in secret back in college after Doug first started Marcus and Daniel. She had 6 versions before he was functioning how he does now. He still is very pervious to water, overheating, and a wide variety of things that happen to machinery. The reason hes less advanced is due to Gies not caring about the intricacies of accurately replicating humane behaviors. She thinks of androids as an easier way to do bionics—easily controllable weapons without waiting for growing embryos that can use bionics. My Doug was more of a human bioscientist with dubious ethical and moral codes. Troy can use up to 3 abilities before he begins to shut down.

Any other Androids in Gies army are Androids. Different from Troy. Troy took all of her college and 5 years after she graduated. Again the only reason she was doing this was for convenience and a leg up in this world so she used Troy as her money maker and all of the others are even less human than Troy. They were all destroyed with no hesitation while Troy was jailed. 

Basic Android are things like Robo Perry and EDDY. Like the Siri and Alexas of our world but with a little more spice.

Timeline for shits and giggles

1992- Creation of Davenport Industries ( Don was 21 Doug was 17) 1994- Begins 2nd year of college for Doug ( 20) and the beginning of Marcus and Danielle ( Daniel) and the prototypes of the L-P, I-S, and S-S chips/ first meeting of Geisel 1995- Geisele begins work on the first Troy. T.R.O-1 1996- Doug Graduates and Davenport Industries begins taking off, making both Davenport's millionaires and affluential inventors and scientist 1996- Gisele and Doug break up 1996- T.R.O-2 1996- Adams embryo is now a baby boy 1997- Brees Embryo is now a baby girl 1997-T.R.O-3 1997- Marcus is sentient 1997- Chases Embryo is now a baby boy 1998-T.R.O-4 1999- Donald builds the Penthouse in Centium City 1999-T.R.O-5 2001- Geisel makes a breakthrough in the movie industry and ceases work on T.R.O-6 in favor of working her way up the industry 2002- Danielle ( Daniel) is sentient ( a few years later Danielle is Daniel) 2002- Doug (27) and Dan (31) fall out and Doug fake dies ( Adam 5, Bree 4, Chase 4) 2002- Dan finds ABC and Raises them 2006- The Gov tries to tack ABC for “science” but fails because I said so 2008-2013- Doug works with shady people to get money and he is fairly rich, he also meets Krane during this time who promises him a big payout for the tech of human bionics and partial bionics he left behind in his young adult rage 2011- Geseil completes T.R.O-7 and becomes an Industry Titan with her breakout hidden star Troy West ( if this were a big thing you’d hear about the movies hes is as sly ref across all the seasons) 2012- Dan ( 41) and Tasha ( 41) tie the knot and Leo finds out about the Rats 2013- Doug Returns and does his evil stuff but he and the android bros get redeemed 2014- Krane does all his evil stuff and teams up with Geis but also does a solo thing so he dies 2015- The Island is up and running for about a year 2016- Geis finally comes in and gets her ass handed to her 2017—- Elite force stuff

I hate everything including all these fuckers. Ignore all the rats lookin crazy as hell i was tweaking when i drew that i promise

[the-marshals-wife]

No More Tears (Oz Cobb x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: First fic of the year. 🥂 Writing this was extremely cathartic, as was binging The Penguin twice over my winter break. The brainrot is severe, for which there is no cure but this. Oz is very protective of what's his, and as it turns out, that includes you.

Description: Oz Cobb/The Penguin x Fem!Reader, angst / hurt+comfort (plus a teeny bit of ending fluff) | Rating: MATURE for violent content and adult themes | Warnings: violence and blood, injuries described, mild language, name-calling (not towards Reader), alcohol, drugs mentioned (drops), suggestive themes, pet names (endearing), Reader is injured by a club guest and Oz beats the daylights out of the culprit. | Setting: before the events of The Batman | Word count: 3.1 k

Imagine Oz finding out that you've been hurt, and getting sweet revenge

The throbbing in your temple brings tears to your eyes, and your hands shake as you cradle the side of your face. You draw in a sharp breath, the cool metal of the elevator wall against your back grounding you a bit. Several excruciating seconds later, the doors open, and you resurface from the 44 Below much more battered than when you went in. As the pain starts to intensify, you look for somewhere to retreat out of view. The last thing you needed was anyone seeing you weak.

Of course, there was hardly such a place within the walls of the Iceberg Lounge. With few other options, you make a bee-line for the bathroom. No one seems to notice you in your afflicted state as you rush through the dressing area and out into the upper-level of the club. The flashing of the strobe lights normally didn't phase you, but now they feel like ice picks in your eye sockets. Only halfway to your destination and several more flights of stairs ahead, you can barely hear the thundering base of the club music over the pounding of your heartbeat. Suddenly your vision blurs, and you quickly grab onto the railing to steady yourself.

There are people on every side, but they're far too deep in their drinks, drugs, and pleasant company to notice you. For once, you're grateful for it.

"Concussed by some worthless drophead," you mutter, your head swimming. It had been a mistake to look down over the edge.

You stand up to go lean on the wall instead, but you catch sight of your hands. You look down at your fingers to see them smeared with blood. Your stomach twists with sickened realization. When the creep downstairs backhanded you, his ring must have cut you open.

Before you can speak the curses on your tongue, you hear your name being shouted. Even in your dazed state, you recognize the voice of your coworker.

"Y/N," she calls out again, her voice barely rising above the dull roar.

You sway around to face her, and her shock is immediate, as expected.

"Oh-," she exclaims, wide-eyed, "Are you good?"

"Not exactly," you answer, wincing, "Drophead got handsy."

"They always do," she says, shaking her head. Her nervous smile turns to a full grimace. "Oz wants to see you."

The boiling fury in your veins instantly transforms into frigid panic. "You gotta find someone else. I can't do it. He cannot see me like this."

"He asked for you specifically," she replies, shrugging. "You better get up there. Try to hide it with your hair."

With that piece of advice, she walked away. You couldn't blame her. She had her orders, and you had yours. If only they'd come just a few minutes earlier.

Righting yourself, you wipe your bloodied hands on your navy blue skirt, and pull the pins from your hair, letting it fall down around your face. You tousle it with your crimson stained fingers as much as you can, but even if you had a mirror, you know full well that no amount of tugging at your bangs could fully conceal the gash in your brow. Still, it would have to do. You can't keep Oz waiting.

Exhaling, you start the climb back up to his office. The pain in your head burns deep, but at least the dizziness had subsided somewhat. That was the only thing you had in your favor at the moment. Your aching mind reels over what awaited you. Surely Oz would be upset with you. It was your job to keep guests happy, and your face was damning evidence of your failure. It didn't matter if that guest was a privileged scum-sucking loser too strung-out to form an intelligent thought. He was decidedly unhappy, and now you would have to accept the consequences.

Walking back through where you'd just come from and entering the corridor of the sequestered alcove, you can only pray that Oz is somehow distracted enough with business not to look up. The rattling of the parted bead curtain announces your arrival, and as you step through, it's immediately clear that your prayer fell upon deaf ears.

"There she is," Oz greets with a wide smile, "Come on in, sweetheart."

He waits expectantly on the couch by the window, the murky glow of the club lights shining behind him.

In vain, you keep your chin lowered and your hands clasped firmly behind your back.

"You wanted to see me?" you reply, avoiding his eyes.

"Of course I do. I always want to see you, baby," he answers, waving you forward, "Come here and tell me about your night. How are things goin' downstairs? You holdin' up alright?"

Swallowing hard, you obey and sit down on your hands beside him. You feel your limbs trembling as you search for your words.

"It's good. Busy, busy night," you reply, nodding.

Before he even speaks, you can sense Oz's gaze on you, and just how skeptical it is.

"Good? Just good? So stiff all of a sudden!" he scoffs lightheartedly, "You feelin' okay, baby? You're usually my little chatterbox."

You open your dry mouth to answer, deciding to confess the truth, but he's already reaching to brush your hair behind your ear. The revealed wound speaks for itself, and you flinch as strands of your hair catch on the fresh, open skin.

"Who did this to you?"

The restrained rage in his voice sends a chill down your spine.

"Y/N. Who did this thing to you, sweetheart?" he urges.

He gently grabs your chin and turns your head towards him. Both his touch and his tone are soft, but in his dark eyes there is an unmistakable wrath.

You stare at him in total confusion, unsure if you should feel comforted or in dread. This isn't the reaction you'd expected. Not in your wildest dreams.

"It was...some drophead. Corporate type," you hesitate, composing yourself, "He wanted me to leave with him. I kept telling him no, but he wouldn't lay off. Then he got fresh and I pushed away. That's when I caught the backside of his hand with my face. He was hammered, but it was no accident. His ring's what cut me."

Oz sits back, twitching in agitation. "When was this?"

"About ten minutes ago," you reply, "I'll be alright, Oz. I just need to clean up. It's not a big deal."

"The hell it ain't!" he denies.

His outburst startles you a bit, but you could tell it was not towards you.

A heated moment passes, and his temper calms once more. He leans forward again, touching your arm soothingly.

"You ain't done nothing wrong, baby. I'm gonna take care of this," he assures, "Can you describe him to me? He and I need to have a little talk about manners."

You smirk. "Definitely."

☂︎

A few minutes later, you're standing in the corner of the room with a cold drink in one hand, and a towel pressed to your stinging temple in the other. While Oz sent the Twins downstairs to retrieve your assailant, you'd finally gotten a moment to check your reflection in the mirror and inspect the damage. The gash was deep, but luckily not too wide. You would need stitches, and there'd undoubtedly be a scar for you to remember tonight by, but the doctor could wait. With the bleeding slowing at last, you waited with quiet anticipation to see if the sleaze would get a taste of his own medicine. Meanwhile, Oz stands by the window with his hands in his pockets, looking down in silence at the dancing throngs below.

Your shared reverie is broken by the arrival of the Twins, each dragging the man by one of his arms. Somehow, he seems twice as wasted as before. Now he's barely able to hold his head up.

Oz turns around and looks to you, gesturing. "This the gentleman?" He says the last word with no small amount of disdain.

You nod, biting down hard on your lip.

With that, they unceremoniously toss the guy into the chair in front of the vanity.

"Nice work, fellas," says Oz, giving them a pointed look, "Give us a minute here. Don't go too far."

They nod in confirmation and exit as swiftly as they'd come.

You shift on your feet, uncomfortable with how close the lowlife is to you again. The familiar smell of vodka, drops, and sweat burns your nose. You half have a mind to dump the rest of your own drink out on his head, if only to douse the odor. The other half of you is afraid of what might happen if you do.

As if he'd read your uneasy mind, Oz invites you over to his side of the room. "Come over here, sweetheart. Why don't you have a seat? You should be resting in your condition."

More than happy to oblige, you set what remains of your liquid painkiller down on the crystal table and return to your place on the couch.

"What's going on," the man finally speaks, his words slurring together. Then he sets his intoxicated gaze on you, and his bloodshot eyes narrow in recognition. "You...I know you..."

You frown, folding your arms over your chest in response.

"You don't talk to her. You talk to me," Oz interjects, stepping forward.

"And...you are?" he replies hazily, furrowing his brow with indignance.

"I'm the manager of this club, pal," he answers, taking on a cool tone of superiority, "Now, I don't know you. Based on that suit you got, I'm guessin' your checkbook is bigger than the average drophead's. And maybe outside of these walls, you're some bigshot who can do whatever he likes, to whomever he likes. But in here, you're in my world."

Before Oz finishes speaking, the man's eyelids begin to flutter. It's quickly becoming clear that he's losing the battle for consciousness.

Oz glances over his shoulder at you exasperated.

"Geez, how many friggin' drops has this sack of crap had?" He snaps his fingers in the guy's face. "Hey pal, you mind joining us here back on planet Earth for a moment? I'm tryna teach you something."

The loser rapidly blinks and rouses, violently wiping his nose with his sleeve.

"There you go, that's better," Oz says, stooping to be eyelevel with the guy, "Like I was sayin'. You're in my world. And here, we got rules. They're very simple. So simple, even a miserable little roach like you can understand 'em."

Oz lightly slaps the man's cheek and stands upright once more. He proceeds to remove his suit jacket and lay it on the nearby vanity. Your pulse quickens as he continues his monologue.

"There are some rules you can bend. Hell, there's even a few you can break once or twice and I'll look the other way. But there's one rule that you never, ever break. And that, is where you messed up, pal."

You're frozen in place, your heart full on racing watching Oz roll up his crisp white shirt sleeves.

"I...wait-just, hold on," the slimeball stammers. Every trace of arrogance had vanished, along with all the color in his face. He scrambles in an attempt to right himself, but he's far too inebriated to escape. At last, he was horrifically aware of situation he was in. He raises his now shaking hands in front of him, and you can't help but grin in satisfaction.

"You never hit a lady," Oz seethes, grabbing the guy's coat collar in his fists, "It seems you need a reminder of that. So I'm gonna give you one won't forget."

A yelp escapes the man's chapped lips as Oz hurls a right hook into his jaw. His arms go limp from the impact, and they only flop about from there as Oz lands another punch. You gape at the massive cut sliced into the guy's cheek by Oz's own ring.

"How do you like it, huh? Stings, don't it?"

In his drug-induced stupor, the drophead makes no attempt to fight back. All he can muster is an agonized moan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

This only serves to enrage your boss further. Oz grabs the guy's collar again, this time tugging him forward out of the chair. His skull hits the floor with a nauseating crack. The sound, and the convulsing that follows, doesn't deter Oz, however. He hoists the man up with a strength that surprises you and pushes him against the brick wall.

Miraculously, the pathetic soul was still conscious, if just barely. The blood dripping from his mouth deepens the pit in your stomach, but you don't turn away.

Oz shoves the man's head to turn your direction.

"You think you can come in here and do that to one of my girls? Huh? Look at her face. You piece of rat filth!" he shouts, punching him in his ribs, "How dare you touch her. I oughta cut your hand off and feed it to ya!"

He proceeds to lay into him with a ferocity you can scarily believe. Every blow is more brutal than the last, each one punctuated by infuriated curses. Each time the lucid fool slumps forward from the impact, Oz sends him back with another slug to gut or head. It feels like an eternity passes before he finally has his fill of retribution and lets the man fall at his feet.

You peer at the unmoving heap, searching for signs of life, but your focus quickly shifts back Oz. He stands with his back to you, still muttering incensed profanities between heaving breaths.

This was a side of him you'd caught glimpses of, but never fully witnessed. Perhaps not many had. The fury that flowed through him certainly stemmed from more than revenge for tonight's incident. You imagined there was probably a lifetime of buried rage behind every blow struck. The thought of where such intense anger came from, and how much more there might be deep inside him, made you shudder.

For now though, you were just grateful he tapped into it on your behalf. His violent appetite was satisfied, and you had your payback. It'd hardly been a fair fight, and you couldn't care less. As much as your mind told you that should be afraid in this moment, or at the very least unnerved, you weren't. You felt relieved. More than that, you were mesmerized.

Oz whistles for the Twins, and they promptly return. He produces a dark purple handkerchief from his pants pocket and wipes away the blood from his knuckles before acknowledging them.

"Would you fellas be so kind? Our 'guest' needs help finding his sea legs," he invites, slicking his hair back.

It was only an expression, of course. If he didn't succumb to his injuries, you doubted the guy would ever be able to stand again. He wouldn't be backhanding anyone, either. That thought brings a smile to your face.

The identical men hoist the nameless victim up in much the same manner as they'd brought him in. Only this time, with his black and blue face utterly plastered with fresh lacerations, he was nearly unrecognizable. The low gurgling noise emanating from his mouth was the only proof that they weren't propping up a corpse.

"In case I wasn't making myself clear," Oz begins, rolling his sleeves back down, "If you so much as think about coming back in here, I'll carve you up into so many friggin' pieces, only God would be able to find them all."

It sounded like the man tried to vocalize, but it was scarcely more than a whimper.

Oz sneers, "Get this scum outta my sight."

You watch as what's left of your harasser is carried away from view. Just like that, you and Oz are alone once again. As much as you could be anyway, since several of the girls in the dressing area had become aware of the beatdown and were peeping from the other side of the shared window. Surely the whole club would know about what'd just taken place before sunrise. After all, Oz wouldn't do that for just any of the girls here. He didn't even know half of their names; but he knew yours, and he almost beat a man to death to defend it. You shake your head and resolve to ignore the onlookers, trying to come back into your body after the sobering surreal experience.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, baby. But it had to be done," he sighs, putting his jacket back on, "He won't be bothering you no more."

You stand up and walk over to him, "I'm just sorry I couldn't get a punch in."

"Listen to you, little killer over here," he chuckles, "Tell you what. Next time we got a jerk that goes sideways, I'll hold his arms back and you can go nuts on 'em. Deal?"

"Deal," you agree, your playful words turning sincere, "Thank you, Oz. You didn't have to do that for me."

"Yes, I did. Someone disrespects you, they disrespect me too. You bleed, I bleed. I had to make it right," he argues, slightly stern. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. "Here. For the doctor. If you need more, you call me."

You softly gasp at the six hundred-dollar bills he holds out.

"This is too much," you begin.

"No, it ain't. I never shoulda let you go down there in the first place. They're friggin' animals," he says, regret in his voice, "You take all the time you need before you come back, alright? Don't worry about it."

You let him place the money in your hand. Tears start to well up in your eyes as you look to him with gratitude.

"Thank you," you repeat.

He reaches to brush your hair away from your eyes, his bruised knuckles grazing your cheek. "Don't you go startin' with the waterworks now," he smiles, "Scars ain't nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. You'll always be beautiful to me."

Anyone who'd spent just one minute with Oswald Cobb knew that he had a way with words, but something about the glint in his eye made you believe that he truly meant these ones.

You chuckle thoughtfully and straighten his tie. Then, leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek. For a second time that night, you'd taken him by surprise.

Turning to leave, you smirk over your shoulder. "Don't miss me too much."

He grins. "No promises, doll. No promises."

[labyrynth]

i did actually try watching the thousand autumns animation a while back but i could never tell what was going on bc the translation was. not good. i couldn’t take it seriously bc they kept using “Evil Gang” unironically

[maddy-ferguson]

having a failed talking stage in your class of 13 people is so unserious

[neixins]

[ID: panels from chapter 256 of “yona of the dawn”. in the first panel, zeno stands up; his neck and robes are heavily stained with blood, and some of it is splattered on his cheek; he says, “i tried all i could to die…”. in the next panel, the phonomime “drip” is written twice in the corner, indicating that it’s coming from somewhere out of frame but zeno has yet to react to it. in the following panel, the dripping continues and he turns towards it. in the next panel, which is taking up most of the page, he stares at the source of the sound in horror. the final panel shows the roof of the palace; the sky above it is dark and cloudy, with sunlight beginning to break through the clouds. end ID.]

the dripping from out of frame, the slow turn, the hard cut……horror writers WISH they had a shoujo mangaka’s skill to invoke pure unadulterated dread

[quietwingsinthesky]

🌹:O

:3c

Lucifer doesn't care how the labcoats say it works; he knows there's no such thing as a clean break from a drift the minute the plug is pulled. Instead, Michael goes from a second consciousness beside his own to being dragged out of Lucifer the further Lucifer gets from him, both of them gripping tight to the connection until it slips, until it snaps, with a violent recoil that knocks Lucifer's brain out of alignment and reminds his legs that they don't work. His next step falls too fast, too heavily, and refuses to take his weight. It's only Michael, now only a voice outside of Lucifer's head yelling his name, catching him from behind that allows Lucifer to collapse to the floor with his dignity intact.

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[ambrosiagourmet]

I've seen pieces from this extra comic before, but never read the full thing until today. And holy shit does it hammer home just how much the story is about class.

Multiple times, when food comes up in this comic, it’s also in context of money:

I've seen this last panel on the right brought up before in context of like, dungeon meshi's relationship with fat and eating, but in the full context of the comic it really hits how much adventuring directly consumes bodies for money.

As much as this has been part of the story the whole time, showcased as early chapters 19 and 20...

It never fully hit me before how often adventuring comes down to having no other way to make money but to throw yourself into death repeatedly. To be used, whether it’s by individual selfish people (like the resurrection group that is happy to try and get Kabru's group to kill each other to get extra gold from them in chapter 32), or by the greater cog of the Dungeon Economy in general.

Which, to be clear, is all too often how things work in the real world, too. So many jobs burn through the health and lives of workers. Dungeon Meshi just makes it literal in a new way: by making the healing and resurrection, a core part to the adventuring loop, directly use fat, muscle, and energy from the body being healed.

Imagine Amazon, but if you got injured at work, they could literally burn up some of your body to get you back to working sooner. And that was seen as an advantage of the job.

And then you have Laios, thinking about eating monsters:

Not just because he likes monsters a lot. But because it would help. He says something similar in the actual manga too, during the chapter discussing his dream with the Winged Lion

Laios wants to be able to make a home for Falin. He wants to give her a place where she never has to eat alone. And when he gets a party, he wants to give them a way to eat well. And when he runs a country, well…

He wants to ensure that everyone has enough to eat.

Food is political. Food ties into class, and money. What is deemed "proper" to eat, what is a luxury, what is crass… so much of it comes down to money.

Being judged for eating what's available, when what is “proper” isn't affordable, is already a thing that happens. People forced into work that consumes their energy is already a thing that happens.

Dungeon Meshi has a lot of fantastical elements, but boy is its examination of food and class very real.

[fandom-with-no-hope]

Rp with my friend rant but. How are you supposed to feel when one of the Mc of the pokemon roleplay you've spent the past two years doing dies. What.