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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

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Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

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frankenkyle19 · 1 year ago

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Glitter On The Floor After The Party

description/warnings: Peter x reader at a New Year’s Eve party, Peter admits that he’s never had a New Year’s kiss and against better judgement, reader decides to give him one. Smut, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), teasing, just a bunch of tenderness and it’s so cute okay thanks bye

Based off of the amazing request I got from our lord and savior @silverzoomies I hope you enjoy it and I hope it lives up to your expectations!!

word count: 4.6k

Loving you,

Isn’t the right thing to do

How Can I

Ever change things that I feel?

If I could

Baby, I’d give you my world

The soft background music of Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” played amongst the chatter and laughs of conversation across the room. You stood leaning against the wall, sipping on a solo cup of lemonade as you did one of your favorite things. People watching.

You didn’t like to be in the middle of a conversation, but listening to it from the outside was something you did enjoy. You didn’t try to snoop, if someone was having a conversation they obviously intended to keep hush hush, you moved on to listen to a louder, carefree conversation instead.

What day was it again? Why were you at a party? Oh right, it was New Year’s eve and Charles had decided to host a party at the school for the mutants and others who resided there. As a way to celebrate the progress that had been made in the last year and to hope for a good year to come.

You never really felt like you fit in with the other mutants. Sure you had a power, and if that’s what people thought deemed you a mutant, then yes, you were one. You wouldn’t even consider it a power, it was more of a curse. A turn off to just about all men who found out about it one way or the other, despite it not affecting them in any way. They just saw you as different and decided you weren’t worth the time of day. Too much work. Whatever.

Speaking of time, that had everything to do with your power. You were able to slow down time, practically freeze something in the moment.Unlike a certain silver speedster who was able to move at the speed of light, you were only able to freeze a moment for a certain amount of time, and it took a lot of focus. It was a dumb power, you always thought so, and you weren’t sure it would ever even be useful to the x-men, despite protests from Charles that everyone is important in their own way. Sounded like a load of bull shit.

Figures that one of your only friends was the silver haired speedster himself. Your powers were similar but yet so different, and sometimes it led to arguments between the two of you. You always managed to get over it though.

Peter Maximoff was one of the first friends you’d made when you joined. Around your age, a cocky super speedy mutant definitely caught your eye.

The two of you had been friends for a few months now and had gotten closer quicker than you imagined. Peter and you staying up late to have secret movie marathons, with him always insisting you rewatch Star Wars despite your strong dislike for rewatching movies when you could watch new ones. You did it anyway, being with Peter suddenly made those movies bearable, as if he possessed some other kind of power than his super speed. The power to make any situation a little more bearable.

You hadn’t seen Peter yet tonight, strangely, and wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be attending. He had no reason not to but as you wracked your brain for an answer, you couldn’t come up with one. Odd. Maybe he was with his family? His mother and little sister? Perhaps he enjoyed spending time with them more. Psssh of course he did, that was his family that he loved, so why suddenly did you feel so jealous.

Finishing the last of your lemonade you made your way back over to the drinks table to pour yourself something stronger. Maybe a little rum and coke would solve all your problems. Hell, maybe you’d even be able to chill out enough to find someone to hook up with. Lord knows you needed it. You’d been unusually uptight lately and the only thing you could think of was the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a milenia.

It wasn’t like you to do the dirty with some person who you didn’t even know, but if the night led up to that, you’d have no qualms as long as said person knew where the clit was and how to make you feel good. Was that too much to ask for?

You were knocked out of your thoughts when a harsh breeze whipped by you, followed by the slight color of silver.

Peter… So he was here.

A few seconds later and your cup was snatched from your hands and in the hands of someone else who sipped from it. When he put the cup down you saw his familiar deep brown eyes and silver hair. You would be annoyed at the fact that he’d stolen your drink if it wasn’t for the fact that you were actually quite happy he’d finally showed up.

For being a speedster, he sure was late to a lot of things. Odd, wasn’t it?

“Miss me?” He asked, snatching a cookie from the table and biting into it, a few crumbs cascading down onto his Pink Floyd shirt. He obviously didn’t care as he took another bite and the same thing happened. His silver eyebrows were raised, waiting on an answer from you.

What had he asked again? Oh right, if you missed him…

“I thought you weren’t coming,” You said, avoiding his question. Had you missed him? You weren’t really sure the answer to his question. It was something you’d have to ponder on for a while.

“Where else would I be on New Year’s Eve?” He asked, finishing off his cookie and scanning the table no doubt for what he’d eat next.

“I don’t know, maybe your mom’s place?” You shrugged. To be honest you didn’t know, you were just guessing.

“Nope, her and my lil’ sis are at a friend's house celebrating I think. I wasn’t invited. No one wants a freak at their new years party, right?” He chuckled, but you knew inside he didn’t find it very funny.

“Maybe they didn’t want you stealing anything-” You teased, trying to lighten the mood, and it seemed to work. Peter laughed once more, real this time as he shook his head.

“Yeah that’s probably it, never thought of that. Yer a genious” He said, and you noticed another cookie in his hand, already half eaten.

You took this chance to get a good look at the man in front of you. The silver haired mutant of which you harbored a very secret obsession. How could you not? Anyone who didn’t was either lying or blind. He was perfect in so many ways. From the way his silver hair sometimes fell into his face, to the way his brown eyes sparkled whenever he saw you.

As much as you’d love for something to happen between the two of you, the risk was just too high. You couldn’t in good intention do anything and risk your friendship with the speedster. It was too risky.

Still, sometimes the way he looked at you had you wondering how he felt. Where his feelings lay. Was there something more or were you reading too far into it all? Probably the latter…

You glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes till midnight. Thirty minutes till the new year. It felt so close but seemed to be an eternity away. You wondered what this new year would bring you. What you’d accomplish within the x-men. Maybe you’d find a more useful way to use your powers. One could only hope.

While you were zoned out on the clock Peter had stuffed multiple things into his mouth and now when you turned back to him you saw the corners of his lips were covered in white cream. Jesus…

You raised a brow, shaking your head as you brought your thumb up to wipe the corners of his mouth before wiping said thumb on the sleeve of his silver jacket, much to his dismay.

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. It felt as if the rest of the world had slowed around the two of you but you knew for certain you weren’t using your powers right now. It was just the effect Peter had on you. Damn it was strong.

Peter met your eyes before looking away and if you weren’t so distracted by the way his hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, you’d have seen the way his cheeks darkened and the way he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, clearing his throat.

The odd wave of feeling faded between the two of you and it went back to normal. You chatted and laughed over drinks until the both of you were tipsy, you much more so than Peter considering his metabolism, and by then it was only two minutes until midnight.

The rest of the party had party poppers and noise makers in their hands, read for the clock to turn to 12:00, but you and Peter were still talking to each other, too caught up in conversation to get with the flow of things.

“You know, I’ve never had a New Year's kiss.” Peter blurted out, setting his solo cup down to look at you. His expression was soft and you could see the way his body was burning through the alcohol he’d drank as if it was nothing.

What an odd thing to tell your friend two minutes before midnight. I mean, he wasn’t insinuating anything, surely? He was known to over share many things, including the women he’d had sex with, which keep in mind had not been many these days, and the pornos he’d rented that week. That’s just the kind of dude he was. Absolutely no shame in his game.

You let out a surprised chuckle. Quicksilver had never had a New Year’s kiss? Such an odd thing for him to have not experienced.

“That’s a shame.” Was all you said, setting down your own cup, the drink in it now long gone and deep in your system.

Peter seemed surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to reassure him and tell him you hadn’t had a New Year’s kiss either, but that hadn’t been the case.

He opened his mouth to speak once more when people began to cheer around you. 11:59. 60 seconds…

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckled, wishing he hadn’t just told you about his lack of New Year’s Eve smooching.

30 seconds. The pull to Peter was so much stronger now, as if the universe was pushing you together like opposite sides of a magnet.

25 seconds.

Why did you feel this way? Jesus Christ what was wrong with you? Surely you wouldn’t…

15….

The faint sound of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here could be heard and you were surprised that Peter hadn’t pointed it out yet, considering he was at the moment wearing a Pink Floyd shirt..

How I wish,

How I wish you were here

We’re just two lost souls

Swimming in a fishbowl

Year after year…

10…

No you couldn’t

9…

Get it together!

8…

He’s just your friend! Nothing more!

7…

But god the way he looked at you..

6…

No, Don’t give in. Don’t ruin what you already have

5…

Fuck. Screw it. Screw it all.

With a heavy breath you grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t expected it and to be fair neither had you. Time did seem to slow around the two of you now as you felt a surge of electricity crackle through the air between you as Peter finally knocked himself out of his dazed confusion and kissed you back.

4…

His lips were so soft

3..

You could find yourself getting used to this.

2..

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck

1..

A deep breath, never breaking the kiss and there it was.. Peter’s New Year’s kiss. Finally, he had what he wanted, and so did you.

Once it hit midnight the two of you didn’t break away. You pulled at each other, urging the other to come closer. You wanted to crawl into each other's skin, get as close as possible. You didn’t care who saw, who judged. The only thing that mattered in that moment between you two was the other.

You felt Peter’s Hardness against your inner thigh as you leaned against him, coaxing a moan from his puffy lips as he glanced down at you, swallowing hard. That was all the warning you got before he sped the two of you off, time slowing back down once you were both safely in his room at the school. It was just as oddly decorated as his basement-room at his moms house. Obscure posters and gaming machines like Pinball and pac-man.

Peter attacked your neck with his lips, urging you towards his unmade bed before pushing you down onto it. Rushed and messily he tore off his jacket and shirt, tossing it to the floor. He paused, glancing down at you beneath him.

“I- is this okay?” He asked, his hands creeping up under your shirt and tickling your rib cage with his long, slender fingers.

“More than okay,” you laughed out. Yea, it was way more than okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he stopped. That just wouldn’t do.

You glanced down at the ever growing bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans before your hand cupped him gently, causing him to jut into the feeling.

“Shit- really? We’re really doing this?” He asked, grinding his lower half into your hand for more friction.

You used your free hand to pull him down into another kiss full of teeth and tongue, gently massaging his length through his clothing, causing small whimpers and whines to fall from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck yeah we’re really doing this, here- just-“ you urged him off of you until the two of you had switched positions, Peter laying against the bed, you leaning over him.

“Please-“ He mewled, looking up at you with his desperate dark brown eyes, begging for the slightest touch.

Hearing him beg was music to your ears and as much as you wanted to get him to beg more, you were also impatient and wanted to tear his clothes from his body. You’d waited too long for this, you were not going to waste a second.

You palmed him over his clothing one more before undoing the zipper and button on his jeans, trying to get them down his legs.

“Peter- a little help?” You asked, brow raised as you glanced at him.

Peter, who had previously been in his own little world refocused on you, jumping at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It took him a moment to register what you were asking from him and then, the clumsy idiot he was, in a desperate attempt to kick off his pants, he ended up kicking you off the bed.

Landing with a thump you gasped, not expecting it and not being able to do anything to prevent it. You peeked up over the edge of the bed to find a mortified Peter who was frozen in place with his pants halfway off his legs as he looked at you.

“Shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry oh my god-“ He helped you back on the bed and despite your giggles and light reassurance he felt bad.

“Let me make it up to you?” His tone dropped at this and you knew he had an idea. A devilish idea. He picked you up like you were nothing and laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs as he carefully hiked up your shirt until it had revealed your bra, and inside of said bra, your bomb ass titties.

Peter would never lie, and your boobs were absolutely smoking. He was a tits expert after all, from watching hours of pornos, he’d still never seen one’s as pretty as yours, and he had an idea that it was probably because they were yours, and he was now beginning to realize his true feelings for you were much more than just ‘friends’

He practically ripped off your pants, tossing them onto the ground next to his own clothes before his hands traced your thighs.

Your panties were soaked and you were sure there was a wet spot on them that Peter would soon see. It was embarrassing how fast he had gotten you so worked up.

And just like you expected, Peter’s eyes locked onto your clothed cunt, nearly drooling as his thumb brushed over the wet spot in your panties.

The touch felt electric and so, so damn good which was ridiculous because he’d barely touched you at all.

He gently rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit, loving the way that you reacted to his touch.

“Poor thing, need quickie to make you feel good?” He chuckled devilishly and you so badly wanted to kick him. Now was not the time to tease.

“Peter! Please!” You huffed, wriggling around underneath him as he slowly and teasingly pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. He parted your thighs further to give him better access to your core.

His pupils seemed to dilate as he zoned in on your throbbing cunt and with a shaky breath he leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue.

Your hands found their way to his hair as you tugged gently on the silver strands, urging him closer.

Peter got the hint and buried his face further into your pussy, moaning at your taste and wetness. All for him.

It had always been all for him.

His pink tongue jabbed at your clit several times before his lips gently wrapped around the nub, sucking gently, but enough that you could feel it. Hell could you feel it.

Your head fell back into the pillows, unable to keep it up anymore as your legs quivered around Peter’s head. The sight was heavenly. A head of silver hair lapping at your cunt, dark brown eyes glancing up at you as he flicked his tongue inside of you before pulling out to give attention to your clit.

You were surprised by how well he actually ate you out. Most men you’d been with were messy and not in a good way, totally missing any points of pleasure down there, but Peter. God was he good at it.

He continued his actions, speeding up every now and then until your whines became more desperate and your hips bucked up against his face. Somehow, without ever being together intimately, Peter just knew your tell tale signs that you were close. Maybe the porn had paid off.

“Peter!” You squealed as he pulled away for what felt like the fifteenth time. Your body was shaking with pleasure and a layer of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten.

“What baby girl? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it feel so nice?” He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as he teased you, his palms rubbing over your knees as he peeked up at you through his eyelashes.

You totally wanted to kick him right now. He was being such an ass.

“Peter! Please- fuck I was so close! This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” You groaned, urging his head back down to your pussy and finally he followed your lead.

He let you guide him back to your core and he began to lap away at it once more, closing his eyes as he moaned against you. His tongue moved inhumanly fast and it was quite literally the best thing you’d ever felt. Better than any store bought vibrator that was available.

“Fuck! Oh s-shit Peter- feels so good please don’t stop- please please don’t stop this time baby please-“ you begged, holding him by his hair, tugging hard on it as he groaned, open mouthed against you.

With a few more flicks of his tongue and sucks against you, you were cumming, your release coating Peter’s lips and chin as he did his best to clean you up, moaning against you.

Eventually you had to pull him away because he was so lost in your taste. Carefully you pulled him up by his silver locks, seeing the fucked out, happy expression on his face.

“So fucking good-“ he wiped his mouth on his arm before sitting up a bit, coming to himself as he finally got enough oxygen.

Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt and bra fully off, finally being fully naked before you pulled Peter into another kiss, getting on top of him.

He looked up at you with the softest brown puppy dog eyes he could muster, chest heaving as he let a quiet whine slip past his lips.

“Definitely getting much more than a New Year's kiss.” You laughed, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

“Fuckkk- please touch me- I’m literally throbbing baby you’ve got no idea how much I need you-“

“I think I have some idea,” you gently wrapped your hand around his red leaky cock once his boxers were off, and the sound that Peter made was something straight out of a porno.

“Shhh, Peter you’re really loud-“ you shook your head as you thumbed over the tip of him, watching as your thumb spread the opaque fluid across his pretty pink head.

“Really really want a new years kiss somewhere else-“ Peter panted, despite how desperate he was he was still cracking jokes. Of course. You wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but you had a better idea.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned down, face to face with his throbbing dick as you pressed a soft feather light kiss to the tip, watching the way Peter’s breath hitched the second you did.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and it was everything you ever wanted and more. Finally, after all this time. You had him. He was yours.

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum-“

“Peter I’ve barely touched you-“ your brows furrowed at his admission, honestly surprised. You had gotten him that worked up from barely touching him? To be fair he had done quite the same thing to you previously.

“Don’t- wanna cum yet- wanna fuck you please?” He asked, batting his eyes in a much too innocent way for how sinful the situation was.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As much as you wanted to explore his body, there would be time for that later. You too had all the time in the world now.

He pulled you down with him onto the bed as he tried to manhandle you down onto your back and before you knew it he was over top of you, leaning in between your legs, nudging your core with the tip of his cock.

“Can I?” He asked, looking up at you, his hair a disheveled mess of silver on top of his head.

“No condom?” You asked, brushing your thumb across his cheek as he shyly nodded, not meeting your eye, his next words surprising you.

“I-if that’s okay- I saw you were on birth control I was snooping around your room the other da-“

“Wait, pause right there, you were snooping around my room? Peter!” You shoved at his shoulder, an annoyed look settled on your face “what’s wrong with you? Creep!”

Peter put his hands up in surrender as he blushed hard, becoming shy now at his confession.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious! You know me! I'm a snoop!”

“Peter I cannot believe you right now but- dammit, yes. Yes just fuck me already please or im going to explode.”

Peter chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly slipped inside of you, your slick mixed with his saliva from Peter’s previous actions with his tongue making him glide inside easily.

The both of you gasped in unison at the feeling of being so close together in such an intimate setting. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There was almost no pain, despite how deeply he was stretching you out. It was like the two of you were meant for each other.

You clutched onto Peters shoulders as he gave a few experimental thrusts into you, shaky breaths mingling together in the air between your bodies.

Peter breathed out your name through a moan and you were sure it was the most magical sound you had ever heard and would ever hear.

“Fuck- to be fair I had no idea this was how the night was going to turn out-“ Peter cursed, sweat forming on his brow, not from exhaustion but from pleasure and the restraint it took to hold himself back from fucking you so hard the bed broke.

You laughed lightly, moaning as he hit a spot even deeper inside of you before pulling back out and repeating his actions.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Perfect way to start the New Year in my opinion.” You grinned before your smile was replaced with a gasp as Peter began to speed up his thrusts.

You didn’t fail to miss the way that his body vibrated with each thrust, fucking into you with purpose as he planted kisses and love bites all across your neck and shoulders before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

He hummed around the hardened bud before letting go of it with a pop.

“I just gotta say baby- these titties- you’ve been hiding them from me for tooooo long. They are bangin!” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his choice of words.

“F-fuck-“ he cursed again, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fucked into you with a kind of desperation you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t even need him to tell you, you just nodded in understanding, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

The two of you were close and your bodies were racing to the finish, chasing your euphoric highs.

“I-I-I’m-“ he choked out, unable to form the words.

“Shh, shh I know Peter, I know, me too.” You reassured him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and making him go farther inside of you, surely bruising your cervix.

Peter froze against you, humping against you twice more before stilling, filling you up with his warm seed.

The feeling finally threw you over the edge, your body seizing against his, arching up against him before collapsing limply back against the sheets.

The two of you caught your breath before Peter pulled out and laid next to you, tracing your stomach with his finger.

“Holy shit- that- Jesus that was- wow-“ Peter couldn’t find the words as he stared at you in disbelief.

You didn’t really have the words either so you just looked up at him and said,

“Happy New Year’s Peter.”

And he simply responded with

“Happy New Years.”

Maybe this new year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#evan peters #evan peters icons #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff fanfiction #xmen quicksilver #xmen #new year #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #evan peters fanfic

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it-is-i-zim · 1 year ago

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Okay... You asked for it....

You already know the one and only blorbo I will never shut up about and I'm going to talk about him because dear lord do not enough people actually have anything positive to say about him and my ass literally has to bring up the one time he was positively characterized in the 1987 Suicide Squad as someone who actually cares about consent.

That's right. I'm talking about Captain Boomerang because who else would I be talking about.

I can't tell you enough how much I love this very stupid man. He's literally just a guy who fights a speedster who's literally referred to as the Fastest Man Alive. And Boomer's managed to knock Flash out with a boomerang of all things. All because the Scarlet Speedster keeps forgetting that his boomerangs come back.

Early comics were honestly the funniest thing ever for him. Like... Vol 1 of the Flash. He was just a funny silly lil guy. Look at him. What's even happening here?

This is even funnier when you realize that the Flash has kept his costume compressed in a ring for years by this point. I'm sorry honey, you just have no idea that your idea is exactly the same as the Flash's 😭😭😭 ALSO HIM CALLING HIMSELF A FREAK I'M LIVING FOR THIS OH MY GOD SIR!!!! SIR!!!! YES YOU ARE AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT!!!!

And let's not forget the fucking Carrier Boomerang. Please DC. Please bring this back. That was too funny. Please.

YOU CANNOT GET ANY FUNNIER THAN SENDING SOMETHING TO INSULT SOMEONE I'M SORRY BUT THIS WAS PEAK COMEDY AT THE TIME!!!!

He's been my blorbo for literally an entire year and within that time nothing interesting has happened to him in canon. Nothing! Then with Non-canon DC content the most interesting thing that's happened with him there was Multiversity: Harley Screws Up The DCU. And the fandom did almost nothing with him apart from a friend of mine drawing things that he never showed online and me paying someone to essentially remove the Starro Spore and put him in different clothes. Speaking of the fandom... The most interesting thing that's happened with him there was the fight between Owen Fans and Digger Fans thanks to someone who supposedly didn't actually like either insulting Digger fans. Which all know lead to me getting some nasty asks in my inbox.

And even now there's basically nothing for him for 3 days now. It's all just Identity Crisis covers that he's not even on in the tags and one person who's brought up a comic from 1994 of something where he was a creep and it was really gross, followed by my own post showing off how even the worst version of him cares about consent. Like... Literally.

This is the racist one I have to constantly state was only from this run. CONSTANTLY!!!!

And even he understands basic consent!!!!

I shouldn't have to feel the need to jump out and make these statements about him but here we are!

I honestly love the 2016 Suicide Squad Captain Boomerang. He actually was allowed to say things. Which is why we know he likes the Alien franchise. And I absolutely adore that. I think he should reference it more or someone should put him in an Alien costume or something for Halloween. I want to put him in front of the TV and have him play Alien Isolation on my PS4 please he deserves it.

He needs so much love and I wish I could draw or write or something so I could actually contribute to his weird little fandom space instead of just posting entire essays on why he's not this, that, or the other thing because person a, b, or c is talking shit. Again.

This man deserves more than what he's getting.

He's a loser. He fails. A lot. But I love him all the same. I love that his recent interpretations have given him that lil gap between his teeth. He's just a silly lil guy.

You want me to talk about my blorbos, huh? You sure?

yes grabby hands grabby hands

#captain boomerang #george harkness #digger harkness

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

Text

"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes.

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne.

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face.

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?”

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children.

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,” she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

“you were missed, you know.”

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?”

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

“being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption

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spellbook-gayboy · 3 years ago

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i'm loving the energy prompt number 1 is giving off (also have a lovely friday! 💛)

“Say what now?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to be petty, Pretty Boy!” Pavel laughed, amused by his confusion. “When I get back home, that’s the first thing I’ll do! Find the most expensive place I can, and swat the balls right out of the air!”

Kyle chuckled in disbelief. “You are one weird motherfucker, Red! Like seriously, we clear ‘bout 20 square miles of Nazi-occupied countryside in less than two days, and that’s the first thing on your mind?! Lord have mercy!”

“Oy, I’m being serious!” the speedster protested. “C’mon, surely even America’s Sweetheart has acted out at least once in his life?”

Kyle opened his mouth to continue poking fun at his teammate, but paused, considering what in his life could be considered as ‘petty’. Eventually, he admitted “Well, now you mention it... back where I’m from, we have these neighbours, the Freemans. Black family, good people, best chicken farmers in the whole damn state, too, if you ask me! But, every Thursday, there were these rich assholes- types that lived off their grandpappy’s slave money, y’know?”

“Yeah, I think I know something like that”

“Well, they’d drive past in their fancy car, and their spoiled little shits would start yelling... less than kindly language, I’d guess you’d call it” he continued, voice going dark at the end.

“What did the Freemans do about them?” Pavel asked, now genuinely curious in the farm boy's story. “They pelt them with eggs?”

“Nah,” Kyle answered, “They couldn’t do a damn thing, actually. Black kids ‘inconveniencing’ an affluent white family out for their weekly drive? I don’t think I have to tell you how that’d end, Red.” he explained, a scowl lining his face. “But... kids from a God-fearing, all-American family o’ pig farmers? Well, that’s just juvenile delinquency, now ain’t it?”

“So you pelted them with eggs, eh?” Red Rush inferred, his tone intrigued and his face holding a sly smile. “Pretty Boy, you’re an animal!”

“Did Soprano tell you to call me that, or are you are just messin’ wit me?” Frontline changed, questioning the Russian’s way of addressing him.

“Something along those lines” was the only answer he got.

“Uh huh...” he replied, an unconvinced look on his face. “Anyway, so the rich folks go on their weekly drive, the gremlins get to yell their weekly round of slurs, but when they keep going onto Blue Peach Lane, they get a warm dairy welcome courtesy of the Washington kids!” he told Pavel gleefully, his laughter at the memory barely contained. “Oh, lemme tell ya, Red, that they were more omelette than human by the time we got done wit their rich asses!”, now breaking out into full-on laughter.

Pavel joined his teammate, snickering at the idea of egg-splattered racists. “No way! You just- haha- you just egged them? Wha-what happened next?”

“Oh, their pa came in, ranting and raving ‘bout unruly children and how my Pa needed to discipline us more. Didn’t matter much, since my Pa told him to fuck off right after. Mrs Freeman made us peach cobbler, too, so pretty good overall!” he finished the story, lightly licking his top lip. “Oh and uh, I gotta ask you a question ‘bout this golf plan of yours”

“Go ahead, Pretty Boy”

“You got room for a plus-one? I reckon I could a hit a few of ‘em!” Kyle chuckled.

“Y’know what, Kyle?” Pavel replied, “I think I might be able to squeeze you in”

#you have a great friday too Kay!#invincible #invincible amazon #invincible show #invincible oc #🦅🛡#Kyle Washington #⚡️🔴#Pavel Lenkov #my asks #sequids #writing prompt friday

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aizawaskittenwhore · 4 years ago

Text

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought.

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising.

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke. “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours.

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits.

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit.

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his.

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids.

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout.

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line.

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass.

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body.

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand.

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them.

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.”

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body.

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead.

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister.

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

#aizawa x female reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha #bnha x reader #hawks #nyafterhours

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softolivarry · 5 years ago

Text

What if you just kiss him? | olivarry au

Barry realized he was bisexual after a very looong period of time of him doubting everything he had ever known.

It wasn't because Joe and Iris wouldn't accept him, it was because maybe he couldn't accept himself.

Because Barry "Of course I'm straight" Allen have been telling that lie for so long that he believed it, and discarded every thought other than friendly towards literally every person he met.

But the moment he realized was after Cisco started joking with him.

"Dude, you literally dropped everything to go to another city!" He teased him, holding his laughter while drinking his slushie.

"There's nothing deep about it, Oliver's a good friend" Barry smiled, taking it the importance.

"Oh! Oh!" Cisco dramatized while pressing his hands on the table "I'm getting a vibe!"

Barry immediately was walking towards him "What? What are you seeing?"

"Oh false alarm" he moved his hair to its place "It wasn't that kind of vibe" the speedster looked at him, confused "Just my gaydard screaming" he smirked at the flush of Barry's cheeks.

"Wh-What do you mean?" He instantly started to stutter.

"Oh come on dude, haven't you at least thought you might not be thaat straight?"

After a lot of tests and searching around in google, he was more than sure he wasn't straight.

And when he teamed again with Oliver, it all clicked.

Shit! He had a major crush on his vigilante partner.

When he came back from Star City, he arrived the cortex only to find Cisco and Caitlin working in something he didn't really care.

"How did it go with Mr. Queen?" the latino moved his eyebrows, suggestively.

Barry sat on the floor of the cortex, staring at the wall.

"Barry, are you okay?" Cait stopped what she was doing and walked towards the speedster.

"I like Oliver" he kept staring at the wall.

The cortex filled with a dead silence.

Before Cisco interrupted it "Yes!" he moved his hands, celebrating "Snow, pay up!" he pointed at her.

That brought Barry back to the reality.

"Did you jus-"

"I told Caitlin you were going to realize it very soon but she stated you will notice after like thirty years"

Now Barry looked at Caitlin.

"You can be pretty oblivious" she raised his shoulders.

"I mean, haven't you noticed how Oliver looks at you?"

Barry turned at Cisco so fast he almost broke his own neck.

"What?!" Cisco mutted him with his hand.

"Ok, we need to focus on this new plan: How can Oliver and Barry be together" He smiled.

"What If you just kiss him?" Caitlin asked, obvious, but with the looks on her teammates' face, she continued "Come on! Now we know Barry likes Oliver and we are pretty sure it's mutual"

"No we aren't" Barry almost shouted, panicking "And also, he thinks I'm straight"

"Then tell him you're not" said the latino while eating a red vine.

"Oh sure, what about "Hey Ollie, I noticed I'm bisexual as fuck and I like you a lot, let's date"? Is it enough direct for you?" he moved his hands exagerating.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Cisco raised his hands in sign of peace.

"Okay, then show it" Cait intervened and looked at them "When the times were rough, lgbt people had their own signs to recognize each other, and as far as I know, Oliver's bisexual too, so he might recognize them" she moved her hands while explaining.

That night, Barry stayed up till 4 am searching in all sources he could found... even memes.

And the next week. he started to think about more and more excuses to team up with the emerald archer.

He's desperate, he has tried everything, literally e v e r y t h i n g, he has ever crossed through internet.

So after he decides to be agressive, he really hopes it works or he will be very embarassed.

When Oliver saw the speedster entering the coffee shop, he felt his jaw hurt after how hard it dropped.

But it was totally worth it when he saw Barry Allen, the Barry Allen that has been acting strange for like half a year or more, the Barry "Of course I'm straight" Allen, his Barry Allen; with high waisted jeans and a white crop top with a tiny rainbow in the pocket over his heart.

He avoided looking at him while he drank a sip of his coffee but it was a terrible idea when he almost choked because Barry decided to connect their eyes and smile.

Oliver loved his smiles, it made him feel at peace. However, at the moment he was feeling everything but at peace.

And his thoughts... oh lord. He thanked the universe Barry didn't get the ability to read minds because right now his thoughts weren't very innocent.

"What are you wearing?" Oliver finally asked with a smile on his face.

"Oh... I-" the speedster doubted for a second "This is Iris', I couldn't... do laundry this week" He smiled nervous, wanting to hit his head with the table repeatedly.

"Oh..." Oliver was literally speechless, he couldn't stop looking at the man in front of him.

And he thanked whoever was attacking the city because if he kept looking at him, he will end up kissing him.

And it will all be very awkward since Barry's straight. Right?

"Um yeah... there's someone... attacking Central City's bank, so I should go" he pointed at the exit very nervous while he stood up.

But he was in fact mad and embarassed, because Oliver just kept ignoring him and taking slow sips of his coffee and he only waited for that stupid drink to end so he could focus on him; but now there was a meta attacking his city and screwing his date with Oliver.

"Yeah, you should" he nodded at he saw him turning around and leaving. Two seconds later he reacted and went behind him "You know what?" He grabbed Barry's shoulder "I think I can go and... you know... watch you make your move"

Barry's excited smile came again as they were out of Jitters and walking in the alley. Oliver couldn't resist anymore and slammed the younger man against a wall; but Barry was who wrapped his arms around the archer's neck and kissed him.

Disagreeing with his body, the blue eyed man stopped the kiss "Are you sure you want this? I mean... you're straight"

Barry rolled his eyes "Ollie, shut the fuck up" he pulled the blonde again to his lips.

They really don't know how many hours they spent but the only thing that could interrupt them was an incoming insistent call from Cisco.

Barry finally answered and before he could say anything, Cisco demanded "Both of you. Cortex. Right now!"

Oliver, who heard everything due to how close they were, couldn't help but smile and kiss Barry again.

This exact moment, he thought, was the first time he ever felt this happy.

At the cortex, Oliver was still wrapping Barry's hips with his arms.

"Where were you?!" Frost yelled.

Cisco who seemed very serious before looking at the detail, sighed and covered his face "While you two lovebirds were busy, Frost, Ralph and I saved the entire city!"

"But you did it!" Barry raised his hands, trying to congratulate them.

None of them knew who wanted to punch Barry more.

"I really hope it was worth it" Cisco mumbled with his face still covered.

"Oh believe me..." Oliver smirked and looked at Barry "It was"

#olivarry #flarrow #oliver x barry #barry x oliver #barry allen x oliver queen #oliver queen x barry allen #bisexual mess!barry allen #bi!barry allen #bi!oliver queen #bisexual barry allen #bisexual oliver queen #bi!flash #bi!green arrow #bi!arrow #olivarry headcanon #flarrow headcanon #olivarry au #flarrow au

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melyaliz · 6 years ago

Text

Scribbles

Fandom: Marvel / X-men Movies

Summary: Soulmate AU where whatever they write on their skin goes on their soulmates and person A keeps drawing dicks because they think it’s funny that they will show up on person B. and person B having to constantly cover them up and like “who the FUCK is this asshole!”

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x OC

Notes: First off yes, I know I have a few requests and this isn’t one of them but… I was inspired (Like 8 pages inspired)

Gemma is my new oc that I am working on at the moment I’ll probably post her character sheet soon plus MAYBE finish her full story.

Anyway, she grew up in a pretty christen household (thinking she may be a pastor's daughter) And I totally HC that Peter is TOTALLY the kind of guy who would draw on himself.

So the image of like Gemma having to go to church with a HUGE dick on her arm and has to wear a sweater in summer and stuff was just too funny to pass up on.

I honestly didn’t know how to end this so I just kind of did?

Promise requests will be coming soon :D

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

———--------------------------------------------------

Peter had already been suspended from writing on textbooks and his desk and with his notebook confiscated there was nothing left but his arm.

Freedom of expression man.

Plus the monster eating the freckle on his left arm was tiring out really good.

“Mr. Maximoff, do you have anything of value to add to our discussion today?”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter frowned his brown eyes scanning the board for a moment taking in the information before glancing over at Karen’s notes. Pride and prejudice was as boring as it sounded. Wasn’t that kind of a chick book anyway?

“Yeah, I’m good” Peter added putting his hands behind his back as his teacher his arm and art clearly visible for the teacher to see just to prove his defiance to this book.

However, the teacher didn’t react and just went back to the front of the class.

Confused Peter looked at his arm.

It was blank.

-*-

“Gemma what did you do to your arm!?!”

Gemma glanced down at her arm, the sleeve of her rolled up Catholic school uniform visibly showed the dark drawings of monsters eating helpless woman. “Uhhh I…”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go to that Iron Maiden concert,” her mother and school’s math teacher said grabbing her daughter pulling her toward the bathroom. “Your body is a temple”

“Mom I promise? I have no idea how I got this!”

Her mother paused for a moment looking down at her daughter’s arm, the permanent dark images now bleeding down her pale skin making them look even more grotesque.

“I wonder…”

“What Mom?”

“So you didn’t draw on yourself?”

“I mean I have before but this isn’t me I’m not this good. Honest, I know it sounds crazy but it just showed up after science. Bobby was laughing about it and I was so confused.” Gemma adding a little More soap to her arm blowing away a few strands of her white-blonde hair out of her face, “besides I’m not stupid enough to draw demons on my arm at a Catholic school”

“It could be your soulmate”

“Huh?” Gemma turned to her mom who was now rummaging in her bag for something. Once she found it she pulled out her pen handing it to her daughter.

“Write something”

“What happened to my body is a temple?”

“Too late now” her mother laughed motioning to the melting monsters. “Go ahead”

“What should I draw?” Nerves bubbling up inside her. Weird how nervous you can suddenly get.

“Anything you want.”

Growing Gemma placed the pen to her skin pausing for a moment trying to think about what to draw.

HELLO

-*-

Bold block letters running down the length of his arm stopping at his wrist. Peter had already gotten a detention slip for mouthing off to his teacher and was now tapping his pencil on his desk as he sat there. Board out of his mind… until now.

Curious he glanced down at his arm looking over the words now scrolled boldly over his arm.

Interesting.

“Maximoff are we going to have a problem?”

“Nope” came the distracted respond as Peter slowly drew a question mark behind the Hello.

-*-

A simple question mark drew itself next to one of the monsters making him look more inquisitive than scary. Gemma bit her lip trying not to laugh during her English class.

Poor little guy, he was more confused that she was. Probably wondering why she had tried to erase him from her arm.

-*-

Could you not use a permanent marker? These monsters will never come off.

Neat full circles looped across the top of his arm before one of his monsters came back to him in bright pink sharpie. Obviously traced.

Oh, it’s on.

Pulling out his VERY permanent maker Peter started to draw.

-*-

“Shit” Gemma hissed as the huge dick and balls appeared on her hand. The shaft stretching from her hand down to her wrist.

“Miss Gemma? Is there something you would like to say to the class?”

Quickly she hid her hand under her desk “nope.”

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing sister”

“Then pull up your hands” as Gemma slowly planted her hands on the desk the nun gasped “GEMMA!”

“It’s not me!”

“Who else would do that? And when because I don’t remember seeing any phallic images on you before”

“I…”

“Detention”

Tossing her books and supplies into her backpack Gemma stood up walking off to detention, Sister Maryann stopped her handing her a bar of soap. Gemma looked down at it wondering where in the hell she had even been hiding that. Although Sister Maryann was known for washing kids mouths out with soap when they “took the Lord's name in vain” so maybe this was the mouth soap.

-*-

Actual size Bold thick and large lettering hung over a small dick laying limp on the same hand he had drawn his own gorgeous penis drawing.

Which of course, appeared right as he was flirting with Suzie, the cutest girl in school.

“You have something on your hand…” the pretty brunette said nodding toward Peter’s hand which was holding her own as he “explained” the best way to use a joystick on the newest arcade game that had been put in across the street from their high school.

“Are you kidding me!?!” Peter said pulling his hand quickly away, “Freak used permanent marker too”

“What did it say?” Suzie giggled trying to get a look at his hand as her jock boyfriend walked up throwing an arm over her.

“What up Petey?”

“His hand just got this weird mark on it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep, got to go, see you both later fellow classmates,” Peter said saluting before dashing off probably a little faster than he should have.

“This asshole” he hissed as he quickly ran his hand under the water trying to rub it off face slightly flushed with embarrassment over having the girl of his dreams see it. And they had been getting along so well too!

Oh it was on now.

-*-

“This asshole” Gemma laughed as she scrubbed her arm with the hard bar of soap. Leave it to Sister Maryann to have the magic cure for something that shouldn’t be cured. While her hand was now rubbed raw from scrubbing, the large dick was no longer scrolled across her hand and the monsters were all but faded away.

Letting out a triumphant laugh she looked into the mirror a huge smile on her face.

Which faded into shock as her reflection looked back at her.

Her face with a huge twisted mustache drawn across her upper lip.

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Soulmate my ass. This person was the devil incarnate.

-*-

Nothing.

Peter checked everywhere, even stripping down to make sure there wasn’t anything written on… his precious bits.

But no. Nothing came up.

Guess he had won.

Something he through of proudly as he continued to doodle across his arms and legs. He never wrote on his face again and kept things mostly contained.

Although he would draw the occasional risque image in a fun place just to see if he would get a reaction.

Not that he cared.

Not that it mattered.

It wasn’t like the thought of having someone out there that he could always talk to, was always there no matter what was something he wanted.

Nope, not at all.

Although when the cuts and bruises started to form he got a little worried. They got worse as time went on. Large hand size bruises and burns running all over his body. It was as if whoever that was on the other side was part of some fight club or something.

During that time was the only time he truly addressed them.

Are you ok?

-*-

Gemma rubbed her arm nervously as she walked through Xavier's school for gifted children. Led by the man himself it, Charles Xavier.

She didn’t belong here, among the heroes. After being brainwashed to become nothing more than a weapon in some twisted man’s army Gemma felt like the silly catholic school girl who had a closeted love for Heavy Metal music was like a stranger to her. In her place was this strange woman now walking through a fog of uncertainty.

The words Are you ok had almost faded from her arm but she had refused to wash it away. It had been a reminder that morning that something may have been wrong. That maybe those strange dreams she was having and those wounds she was waking up with were maybe not just nothing.

That small warning that had been the tipping point. An almost literal wakeup call that had ended with her coming to this place filled with other mutants. People who had helped set her free from her prison. Break free from the mind control she had been under.

And faced with the reality of what she had unknowingly done under that man’s control she had no idea where to go from there.

Where did she belong?

-*-

It was faint but Peter saw it as she pointed toward the library asking Charles a question. Faded little gray letters, rushed and fast, scribbled across her underarm.

He didn’t need to know what they said, he already knew.

-*-

Turn Around

Gemma blinked in confusion as the bold messy words flashed onto her hand.

What?

How?

Turning she saw him, the speedster, Peter, standing a few feet behind her, a permanent marker in his hand with a huge smile on his face.

“Hello.”

Shock.

It washed over her like cold water.

For years she had wondered who that total ass was who had continued to plague her body with drawings. Her once perfect record marred with endless visits to the principle and detention. Gemma had always been a fly under the radar kind of girl, just be middle of the road and go unseen. Yet all those colorful drawings and even more colorful words had made her stand out in ways she had never dreamed of.

Who was that person? Why were they doing this? How come they didn’t seem to care? After all, it was clear there was someone else was getting marred by those drawings.

A million questions flew through her mind and even more memories.

Yet nothing seemed to come out.

“Bet you never thought you would be this lucky,” Peter said running his fingers through his silver hair. “I mean you basically hit the jackpot of soulmates.”

“You…” her hands flickered with energy, emotions building up inside her spilling out, “total ASS!”

Peter went flying across the hallway as she shot him, not enough to hurt him just kind of give him a taste of what he had been doing to her for the past 8ish years.

“Could you two maybe…. I guess not” Charles groaned as Gemma’s second blast missed a much wiser Peter, blowing up a beautiful 16th-century vase.

“It took me a WEEK to wash off that stupid dick you drew across my chest! And that during prom weekend”

Peter was laughing as he grabbed Gemma taking her outside where they could hash this out somewhere safe.

“So what kind of dress did you wear to prom?” Peter asked looking her over trying to picture it, a cute little red (or maybe blue to match her eyes) dress with a big of black dick drawn up her chest the tip peeking out of the collar.

“A cardigan thanks to you.”

“Awww what’s the fun in that?”

“I went to a Catholic school.”

Peter stood there for a moment the image of her in a little catholic uniform covered in his demon and phallic drawings was just…

Perfect.

“Jesus Christ you didn’t!?!” he doubled over laughing as she watched him trying to fight back a smile. Honestly, after everything she had been through the memories of her trying to scrub off little devils and titties off her arms and legs felt almost…

Comforting.

As annoying as they were, those drawings had kind of been comforting. They set her apart, let her know (as weird as he was) there was someone out there that was all her’s. Yes the dicks and the tits were annoying but there were also some pretty cool song lyrics that had helped her to discover music she hadn’t heard before.

He was like her annoying little secret that broke out away from the everydayness of her very normal life.

Plus she had to admit, it was a pretty funny image looking back.

Not that she would EVER admit any of this to him. At least not right now.

“You owe me big.”

“Oh, Gemma I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Why do I get the feeling your idea of making it up to me is going to be different than what mean?”

“Maybe being soulmates always means you can read my mind?” he said leaning forward wagging his eyebrows. Gemma couldn’t help but laugh up at him as he took a step back holding out his hand.

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

As she took his hand Gemma had a feeling that much like the first time those little monsters appeared on her arms, her life was going to be filled with many more surprises.

-GET TAGGED!-

Tagging: @royslittleharper @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @nilthanious @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @ocelysium @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep

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write-my-dreams · 7 years ago

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Jay Tim Day 1: The Toughest Job

Title: The Toughest Job

Author: write-my-dreams @ tumblr/Ao3

Pairing: JayTim

Genre: Canon, action

Warning: Some violence and cursing

Chapter(s): 1/1

Summary: Jason is none too pleased when Bruce calls him and wakes him up. Irritation turns to urgency when Bruce tells him Black Mask has put a hit out on Tim, who has no idea what's going on. Jason suits up and goes to Tim's rescue.

Read it on AO3

Jason groans into his pillow as Bruce’s ringtone blares in his ear. The hell does he want? He considers ignoring the call to go back to sleep. Except Bruce rarely contacts him unless there’s some sort of problem. Things are better between them, but tensions still remain. Jason gropes for the phone without raising his head. “What?” he growls into it.

“Where are you?”

“In bed.” Jason turns over onto his back with another groan. “If it’s my turn to pick up your demon spawn kid, tell him to get a ride from Dick. It’s too early. Call me later.”

“Get up!” Bruce orders.

The urgency in his voice startles Jason into obedience. “What’s going on? Is someone injured?” Fuck, please don’t tell him someone’s dead.

“Suit up and go to Tim. Now. Barbara caught word of a planned assassination for him. Lucius says Tim’s already left the office for his work lunch at the Royal Swan. He isn’t answering his phone so I have no way of contacting him. You’re the closest one to the restaurant. Keep Tim safe.”

Jason comes to full alertness the moment “assassination” reaches his ears. “Royal Swan. Got it.” He presses the phone to his ear with his shoulder and grabs his uniform. “Does Babs know who it is? Deathstroke, Deadshot, some other well known hitman?”

“Slade wouldn’t take a hit on Tim.”

Not if he wants to get in Dick’s pants ever again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“She doesn't know who the assassin will be. Only that they were hired by Roman Sionis.”

Jason’s fingers tighten around his gun holsters. “Black Mask? Why the hell is Black Mask going after Tim?” If Roman fucking Sionis succeeds in harming a single hair on Tim’s head Jason will take great pleasure in gunning him down.

Bruce sighs. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“The Red Hood will pay him a visit tonight,” Jason says grimly.

“As will Batman.”

Jason smirks as he pictures the fear on Sionis’ face behind that mask. A pissed off Red Hood and Batman interrogating him? They’ll have Sionis singing like a bird in no time. “Good. I’ll call you once I’ve got Tim. Leaving now.”

“Be careful.” The line goes dead before Jason can say anything in response. He pockets his phone and grabs his boots. He finishes putting on his chest armor, jacket, and helmet on the way to his bike. He knows how to keep his composure during tense situations. So he is not panicking as he drives to the Royal Swan well over the speed limit in broad daylight. It’s rare for any of the Bats to come out during the day. Jason doesn’t give a fuck what passersby think. The two police cars he zooms by must recognize him since neither officer pursues him for speeding. Smart move.

Jason reaches the restaurant just as Tim’s cherry red sports car pulls into the parking lot. He’s off his motorcycle the second he parks it. Tim steps out of the car looking way too sexy for his own good. Today he’s wearing a charcoal suit over a white dress shirt and the blue tie Jason gave him for his birthday last year.

Tim stops in his tracks when he sees Jason. His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re the Red Hood. What… What are you doing here? During the day?” He plays his part well by backing up, looking nervous as he clutches the door.

“You’re in danger.”

“From the Red Hood?”

“No, from Black Mask. I’m here to protect you.” Jason scans the buildings around him. Offices, apartments, a shopping mall. The killer could be anywhere and have a number of ways to take down Tim. Poisoning the food or drinks inside the Royal Swan, shooting from the rooftops or the windows, bombing the restaurant if subtlety is no concern. Jason lowers his voice in case anyone can hear them. “Oracle heard about it. Who are you meeting?”

Tim frowns. “Colonel Raymond Hayes from the army. Why?”

The name means nothing to Jason. He scans the area again, looking for the clues Bruce and Dick taught him. There! “Get down!” He seizes Tim’s shoulder and forcefully drags him down to take shelter behind the car. A bullet strikes where Tim’s head had been moments ago. “Fuck,” Jason curses as he tightens his grip on Tim.

Tim lays his hand on Jason’s arm. “We need to get the assassin away from the restaurant. Innocent lives are in danger while I’m here.”

“You think?” Jason snaps. “Give me your keys then get in the back. Stay down. I’ll drive us out of here.”

Tim knows better than to protest. He stays low as he opens the back door and crawls in behind the driver’s seat. Jason grits his teeth as he hears two more shots hit the car. The rear passenger window shatters from a third. He throws himself into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. The tires screech as he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road. Jason grips the steering wheel tightly as he runs through a red light, leaving a trail of angry drivers and honking cars behind.

“Hood,” Barbara says in his com. “I saw you on the security footage. You have Tim?”

“He’s safe. Let B know that.” Jason tears his eyes away from the road when Tim climbs into the passenger seat. “The hell? I told you to stay in the back!”

Tim gives him a withering look. “Roman Sionis didn’t hire the League of Assassins. There’s one shooter. Unless he has speedster powers he’s not going to catch up to you when you’re driving. What does he want with me anyway?”

“Hell if I know.” Jason speeds through another red light and swerves to avoid an oncoming car. He ignores the honking and screeching of tires. “Did you hack into his bank accounts or find something incriminating?”

“As Red Robin. Not as Tim Drake.”

Jason tenses as he sees a police car in the rearview mirror driving straight towards them. He seizes the back of Tim’s neck and pushes him down again so he’s bent over his legs. Jason ducks as the masked “officer” opens fire on the car. The back window shatters and he hears a tire give. Jason swerves down a side road with an ugly curse. No way in hell will Tim get hurt on his watch. Not when he’s yet to tell Tim how he feels about him.

Barbara speaks again. “Turn at the first left. Go through the next three intersections, turn right, then go over the bridge. I’ll keep the way clear for you.”

“Got it.” Jason realizes he’s still holding the back of Tim’s neck. He releases him to grip the wheel again, following Barbara’s instructions. Thanks to her guidance they’re able to lose their pursuer in spite of the tire.

Jason doesn’t relax until they’re inside his nearest safe house with the garage door down and security active. He shuts off the engine and turns to Tim. “Are you okay?” Jason cups his cheek to examine his eyes, turning his head from side to side then looking him over to ensure he hasn’t sustained any injuries. No concussion, no broken glass on him, no blood on his clothes.

Tim bats his hand away. “I’m fine, Jay. Thanks to your quick actions. Shit. I had no idea any of this was going down.”

“Where’s your phone? Bruce tried calling you to warn you. You didn’t answer.”

Tim’s pale cheeks flush. “I, uh, forgot it at the penthouse.”

Jason sighs. “Seriously? You were so sleep deprived you didn’t think to grab your phone and take it with you?”

Tim’s silence is all the answer he needs.

Jason mutters a curse and shoots a text to Bruce. “Tim and I are at my safe house. Neither of us are injured. Tells Babs I owe her one.” Tim’s car is the only thing to sustain damage. Jason drops his phone onto his lap and looks at Tim again. “Black Mask isn’t smart enough to figure out you’re Red Robin. Did he ask you on a date or something and you rejected him?”

Tim glares at him. “You think he’d be alive if he did something like that? Ra’s would separate him from his head! And for your information, no, I’ve never had any contact with Black Mask in my civilian identity.” He gets out of the car and scrubs a hand down his face. “Shit,” he says again. “I have no idea why he’d target me. Is he trying to get to Bruce?”

Jason frowns. “It’s possible, but not really his style. I don’t like this one bit.”

“You think I appreciate being shot at in my civilian identity?” Tim runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Guess I’m not having lunch with Raymond Hayes. Thanks for that, by the way. He’s the latest on a long list who wants Wayne Enterprises to sell tech to the military.” He glances up when Jason approaches him. “Bruce sent you to be my bodyguard?”

“I was closest.” Jason hesitates before taking off his helmet. Tim is alive and well. What better time to tell him? It’s now or never. “And… he knows.”

Tim blinks. “Knows what?”

Jason wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake. It’s not too late! He can back out, come up with a lame excuse. He looks into those big blue eyes and feels his defenses crumbling. Tim can never know the effect a single look has on Jason or he’ll lord it over him forever. Finally, he comes clean. “He knows I’m in love with you.”

The confession catches Tim off guard. His eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back. “You’re what?”

“I’m in love with you, Tim. I hate seeing you hurt. I’d do anything to keep you safe. To make up for what I’ve done to you in the past.” Jason contemplates throwing himself out the window if his confession turns Tim against him. Tim is gorgeous, intelligent, and best friends with Superboy. If Jason does anything to Tim, Kon will find a way to maim him.

Tim’s cheeks turn pink. “I… never knew you thought of me that way. I thought you and Roy were together.”

“Roy’s my best friend. I care about him, but I wouldn’t date him. Especially since my type happens to be Robins.” Jason can admit to having a crush on Dick in the past. Who hasn’t had a crush on Dick Grayson though? He’s ridiculously attractive and a great guy. Though with that temper he can easily live up to his nickname.

Tim steps forwards, pulling him out of his musing. “Robins huh?”

Jason closes his eyes. “Look, I know you don’t like me back. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just… wanted to get it off my chest. I guess.”

“Jason, stop. You never gave me a chance to tell you what my type is or how I feel about you.”

His breath catches. “What?”

Tim lays a hand over the bat symbol on Jason’s chest. “I like you too, dummy. I thought you were dating Roy so I never said anything.”

Jason blinks. “You mean Roy cockblocked me and we weren’t even in a relationship?”

“Dick thought you were.”

“Well he was wrong! Roy and I are not dating. I’d like to date you if you’d let me.” Why does everyone think he and Roy are a couple? Because they’re the family screw-ups who get along great, work together, and are good friends in and out of their uniforms? Okay, so it makes sense. Still, he’s never viewed Roy with any romantic interest. Not when Tim’s been around. Tim with his soft hair, that nerdy glint in his eye when he talks about Star Trek and science fiction, his fondness for wandering around the manor in leggings and shirts he stole from other family members…

Tim laughs softly. “Well, Romeo, you did save me from an assassination attempt. I think you deserve a kiss for that.”

Before Jason can respond, Tim is up on tiptoe kissing him. He wraps one hand around the back of Jason’s neck as he presses closer. Tim’s lips are so soft. Jason puts his hands on Tim’s waist to hold him against him as they kiss.

Black Mask is so getting the ass kicking of his life for sending assassins after Tim. Jason won’t kill him though. Yet. If not for this whole situation and the urgent call to protect Tim, Jason knows he wouldn’t have confessed. Now he has. Tim is safe and warm in his arms, they’re together now, and they’re going to take Black Mask down.

After Jason yells at Dick for telling Tim he and Roy were dating.

#jaytim week 2018 #jaytim week #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #fanfiction #write-my-dreams wrote this

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herstarburststories · 7 years ago

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There's always someone to love you ✘ Dark!Barry|Savitar Imagine ✘

✘ A/N: Hope you like it! Thanks for my beta, @lyss-91, as always ♡ And tumblr isn't letting my put the title, bleh.

✘ @lookclosernow's request: Savitar? Maybe you were his love and he wanted to destroy everything because after your happy life together you said that you didn't love him! (It's not try maybe it was your doppelgänger or smth) and I need flashback where you broke his heart ❤ And then when he is evil you came and said about your real feeling. And happy end! Thank you 😊

Beaches are cozy and clean, until people start throwing litter at them. Damaging it to the point of turning them into something completely unorganized, even dangerous.

People are like beaches. They come into the world completely pure, and some people throw dirt on them until end up with something bad.

That's what happened to Savitar.

He was a good man, he really was. Until everyone around him began to abandon him and treat him as a stranger, as a disposable, a mistake which shouldn't have even be committed.

Savitar's way of feeling could be explained, but never fully understood. He was a mistake on his own in the world. The people who claimed to love him discarded and replaced him, and Savitar sacrificed himself for them.

He was willing to die for them, and they killed him in the worst way possible.

"Bar— Savitar!" Savitar heard a familiar voice call. He turned around himself, waiting for you to approach him.

"Do you want to tell me I'm a mistake again?" Savitar said like a snake loosening its bitter venom.

"What the hell are you talking about!? What the fuck is your problem, anyway!?" You answered in frustration, almost catching how Savitar's eyes widened quickly and his eyebrow arched in surprise. "Seriously, holy shit. You've been doing this, these stupid puzzles and with... With missing the essential bits!" You normally didn't have a taste for using ugly words like this, maybe a fucking once or twice, but not like that; unless she was frustrated, sad or 100% angry. "From the day we met, you made these sadistic games, torturing each of us mentally until we discovered your identity. Well, your sadomasochistic game worked, we found out. But what's your problem with me? I've never hurt, Barry. I would never hurt, even in this alternative past where you came from." You sighed, running your hands through your hair and tossing them back in exasperation.

"I'd forgotten how dirty that cute little mouth of yours could be." Savitar replied simply, with a smirk painted on his lips. "Let me refresh your memory, you were even worse than Team Flash." He spoke the name with contempt, as if all your friends deserved the fate he had sealed for them. "You stayed with me just to break me even more, maybe I should kill you after Iris only for petulance against your god!" Savitar masked his fucked heart with his power, as he had learned long time ago.

"You're not a god!" You exclaimed and he approached you. His hand touched the skin of your cheek as if it were an ice sculpture, fragile and painful to the touch, and yet beautiful, so beautiful that it made that physical agony from touching worth it.

"I'll be one, and everyone will regret what they did to me." Savitar smiled like a madman, and all you could do was feel your heart beating with exaggerated speed inside your rib cage. You told yourself it was fear, even though your brain was pounding and screaming that it was not exactly that.

"What have I done to you?" You sighed, caught in the contact with those frighteningly comforting eyes, even with the aesthetic change.

"The worst thing a goddess could do to a god." Savitar answered as gently as was posible to him, and you could almost touch the pain in the syllables of his words. "You left me."

Savitar pulled away from you, and you knew he was getting ready to run and leave you with one more unanswered question, but you were done with it. It was time to understand what the hell was going on.

"Tell me everything, tell me every little thing I've done to make you hate me so much." Savitar, who had his back to you at that moment, finally turned to you. "Please."

"Hey, babe." Savitar, still Barry, said when he heard a noise in the front door, avoiding to turn to give a smile to his girlfriend. The way his face was still kept him insecure, even with (Y/N) saying that he was still as beautiful as ever to her. Barry did not even understand how she could kiss him, smile at him, caress him and fuck with him, all those normal couple things. When they went outside, Barry could feel their eyes on him, judging, belittling, utterly angry. He had to admit that he understood these people, no matter how miserable that left his emotional, Barry was disgusted with himself, too. And the only person in the world who could make him see the beauty in himself was you, the love of his life, the moon of his sky. The only person who crossed her arms and kicked her feet when he said he was thinking of doing plastic surgery, because you knew how dangerous it could be, that he could catch an infection or something, and you preferred him alive than in a hospital bed sick, fighthing for his own life. Besides being beautiful, even with the scar, you always said. "So I've been researching and..." But it was still difficult for him to deal with himself every morning. "I found a plastic clinic in Keystone. It's not very expensive and it's new, but it has several people with positive results." A anormal sound at your apartamemt was heard, and Barry almost frowned at it, you hated high heels because they left your feet aching, weird you wear them in Monday morning. He didn't think much about it, maybe you just woke up and wanted to wear high heels.

You finally got yourself into his gaze, generating confusion in his head. Did you mention that you were going to dye your hair? Not that you needed to say everything you were going to do, of course, but that was strange, especially because of the clothes that were completely contrary to your style, you looked like a villain from a 60s' movie.

Althrough the worst thing was the look you gave to him: surprised, and yet, as if you were disgusted with what was seeing. You've never looked at him that way, like Team Flash and the people on the street. That was the first crack in his heart that day.

"Your hair looks beautiful." He praised it because it was true and he should just be paranoid again.

"I know." The coldness in your voice was worse than Killer Frost's ice kiss. And your cheeks were not blushed with his praise? And without a small smile or a quick peck on his lips? You did even look like yourself. And it was paranoia and anxiety or you were staring at the burn on his face so far? Anyway, those factors together formed the recipe for Barry to look away, suddenly embarrassed of himself.

"I know you don't want me to do plastic surgery because of the risks, bu..." Barry continued, trying to shift to a subject in which he had been trying to get your support for weeks.

"Risks?"

"I know, it's more than risk, I promise I heard what you said. I can get an infection, the surgery can go wrong and my face get deformed, but..." Your giggle, in fact, laugh, stopped his mouth. He looked at you in confusion, your eyes were almost crying of that hard laughing.

"I don't know if you looked at yourself in the mirror recently, but you're completely screwed. How come you live knowing your face is like this? You don't go outside, do you? I'm just saying, people can get annoyed by... this lil problem." She rolled her eyes. "It's disgusting, really. How could I love you?" Again, the snow-like smile graced her red lips, and her coldness was transferred to her own words. "Breaking news, I never loved you. If you'll excuse me, I have to go home."

Barry couldn't walk, breathe or talk for at least fifteen minutes after you left. How could you say those things to him? You had been the only anchor which kept him from plunging into the darkness of pain for so long, and now you just drowned him there.

It took a while for Barry to notice that there were tears coming out of his eyes and touching his burn, causing an immeasurable pain, but he could not get the salt water off his face. His whole body trembled, Barry tried to breathe, althorugh it seemed almost impossible. It was like those panic attacks he had a few times when he was a kid after his mother was murdered.

Barry's condition was deplorable, and he couldn't help himself. He tried to get up, run, scream, yet he just fell to the ground, one act that the speedster considered like a human weakness. Barry gave up fighting and gave himself that moment, only his sobs were heard as his body was agonizing on the floor.

You, the moon of his night, thought he was disgusting.

And the light was completely erased.

Savitar stared at the floor, didn't feel right to talk about that moment with anyone, especially the being that had caused it in him, but the god's speed just couldn't really say no to the only that had the remaining pieces of the stone that was once his heart.

"Oh, Lord." You said in shock, your eyes wet with his truth, it was painful just thinking. "I... It was not me." You finally managed to say the words that were struggling to get out of your throat a few minutes ago.

"It was you, even if you do not remember it." Savitar snapped back, ready to leave you again.

"It was not me." You sniffed and he took a step forward, a little further from you, and it smashed your heart, and the confirmation of you having helped him to have his soulbroken worsened the sensation in your chest. "I ... I remember this version of me. Not of this reality, of course, but from the past that I remember, this one was a duplicate from another earth, sent to kill The Flash. But she was a sadistic little bitch and screwed the whole team's life before we get her." You explained, and Savitar didn't answer. "You... Did you get those memories of Barry? Of that me?"

"I did, but it was after I became who I am. I denied all the memories that involved you, didn't want to think about things related that day.I did not think... "

"That there really was someone who loved you? Someone who would never leave you or hurt you like this?" You took a step forward, insecure but determined. The old popular saying that your mother used to say hammering in your guts: go, and if you're afraid, you're keep going. "I'm still here." You put a hand on his shoulder gently, and Savitar turned to you. You could finally see the vulnerability spreading all over his face and body. You put your hand on his scar, trying to show that you were not angry. You loved every bit of him, even if he hated it, especially when he hated it. "I still love you." You made the confirmation of your suffering as gently as you could, and you received your reward as he closed his eyes and leaned unconsciously toward you. You gave a warm smile, the hope was still there. "It's not too late."

Because you always knew that people were like beaches, and that beaches could be completely detonated. But its beauty would always be hidden behind the horrible things they've been through, and with the right work... They could shine again.

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l0uk45 · 4 years ago

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Superman: Why do you always act so feral all the time? None of that is necessary!

Batman: You're a literal alien that's like a fusion of tree, rock and human on fifty different stimulants and illegal drugs!

Superman: Really, that's your description of me?

Batman: Diana is literally made from fucking clay and was spawned by literal gods!

Wonder Woman: That's... Oddly accurate.

Batman: There's an entire space police based on willpower with rings that let them create light constructs of anything, and there's like ten other versions of those rings!

Green Lantern (pick one of literally several): Hey now, that's not fair-

Batman: My only superpowers are white privilege, money and an elderly ex-MI6 British butler with a shotgun!

Superman: Okay, okay, you've made your point!

Batman: My parents died in front of me, Clark, and instead of going to therapy like a normal person, I decided to travel the world to learn how to beat the shit out of people dressed as an oversized bat to fight comedic crime lords and help an acrobat psychiatrist beat her manipulative ex-patient ex-boyfriend who is a clown with a death fetish!

Wonder Woman: I mean, he does have a point there, Clark.

Superman: He adopted like four children!

Batman: Eight, actually, and two- no, three- no, wait, four, yeah, four of them are mine! No, wait, three one of them's actually a clone of me. No, wait, no, genetically my kid. Oh, right, five of my own.

Flash: You have a problem.

Batman: I literally just listed all my issues, Barry! You'd think a speedster would be a bit faster playing catch-up!

What I would give to read a fic about an inhuman and feral Bruce raising his hord of human children.

Bruce: [UNHOLY SCREECHING]

Titans: whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck

Dick: *walks in* Oh! Hey Dad!

Titans: ...

Titans: Thats your Dad?!?!

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neon-mooni · 7 years ago

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The Flash season 3: Let’s talk about Savitar and Barry

So if you don’t know who Savitar is by now, then this is your spoiler alert.

Savitar is a time remnant of Barry Allen. Savitar's existence is the result of a causal loop that involved Iris West's death, as after he was created the time remnant was shunned by the members of Team Flash. Broken and utterly alone, the remnant desired to end his pain by becoming a god. Renaming himself after the Hindu God of Motion, he has proclaimed himself to be the "God of Speed", the fastest known speedster in the Multiverse; additionally he is known as the "Dark Lord" within his own cult. When battling a younger version of his original self, Savitar subtly refers to himself as the "Future Flash". When possessing someone, Savitar is known as "Alchemy", the high-priest of his own cult. Desiring to kill his original self, Savitar was defeated and trapped in the Speed Force. Spending an eternity inside the Speed Force, he planned his escape by tricking Wally West into taking his place in the Speed Force prison, allowing him to resume his war with the Flash and kill Iris to ensure his existence. Savitar later forms an alliance with Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost during which his identity and the origin of his existence become known to Team Flash.

Here he is for most of the season.

And finally, here is his face.

Without further ado, let’s get into this.

Savitar was a huge villain this season. Regularly dubbing himself as a God, Savitar was this unstoppable force. Savitar was a menace. He was unstoppable, but most of all, he was broken. Let’s take a moment to talk about how Team Flash treats our Barry.

#1 They locked him in a cage when he was greiving, instead of comforting him in his grief.

#2 Flashpoint: When Barry created Flashpoint, he was greiving. He had just lost his father, and in one moment of grief he decided to go back in time to the day that his mom was killed, and save her instead. Then, when Barry’s memories started disappearing, he had to go back in time, and let his mother get killed again. Did Team Flash care about that? Of course not. They were too busy chewing Barry out for the changes that he did to the timeline to even listen to his side of the story.

Oh, and here’s the real kicker. They encouraged Barry to save his mom in season 1, but in season 3, when he actually does it, suddenly Barry is the bad guy. Hypocrite much?

#3 Savitar

Team Flash rejected Savitar because he was a time remnant. If this is how they treat our Barry, I would hate to see how they treated his time remnant.

#4 2024

2024 Joe blames Barry for abandoning him after Iris's death when the actual truth is, is that Joe abandoned him first. He knew that The Flash and Barry hadn't been seen in years, so shouldn't the first thing on his mind be: Gee I hope Barry is alright, and not "Barry abandoned us"? But what would I expect after the way they locked Barry in a cage when he was greiving? Team Flash has never cared about Barry’s grief.

#5 The Dominators

Cisco chose to reveal the secret message from Future Barry at a time when the world was in danger to make Barry look like the bad guy.

#6 Dante

Cisco knows blooming well that it was a drunk driver that killed Dante. Instead of thinking rationally, Cisco blames Barry for Dante's death because somehow going back in time made Barry the one that killed Dante instead of the drunk driver.

#7 Cisco is a hypocrite

Cisco spends months tearing Barry down for going back in time and accidentally causing a butterfly effect. You want to know what really made my blood boil?

Cisco took his own little trip in time and caused a butterfly effect with the dominators. Cisco is the reason that the dominators showed up in the first place. So it’s okay when Cisco goes back in time and causes a butterfly effect, but when Barry does the same thing he’s the bad guy?

#8 Killer Frost

Cisco didn't even care that Barry's life was in danger when Killer Frost froze him. He just ran straight to her, without even stopping to make sure that he was alright first.

#9 The lack of speedster strength pain killers

I wish that Team Flash would actually create speedster strength painkillers instead of spending all of five minutes talking about it. One day Barry might get injured enough that he might need surgery or even anesthesia, and they haven't developed either one that would work with Barry's metabolism.

And now let’s talk about how much of a hypocrite the Legends are.

They chew Barry out for messing around in time and changing things, when they do the very same thing. So let me get this straight, it’s okay for every one else to mess around in time and change things, but when Barry does it he’s the bad guy? What the hell?

Many people were shocked about Savitar’s true identity but I was not.

I first started to suspect that Barry was Savitar when Savitar came out and said “I am the future flash”. Honestly, how else could that have been interpreted? He point blank told you that he is The Future Flash.

Also let’s do a little color comparisons shall we?

Future Flash’s color scheme from the comics:

Savitar’s color scheme:

Look familiar anyone?

Also, Savitar seemed to have quite a bit of knowledge of Team Flash, and their futures for someone who Team Flash has supposedly never met.

Also, I always wondered what really happened to Barry’s time remnant.

As we saw with Eliza, she turned blue before she died.

If the time remnant really had died in season 2, then why didn’t he also turn blue? Also, if he really had died, then how was Barry not wiped out of existence right then, and there?

As we saw when Barry went back in time in season 1, that version of Barry was wiped from existence. Therefore, I have to assume that had the time remnant really died, then our Barry would have been erased from existence too.

Also, I had to ask, if Savitar really wanted to kill Iris, then why didn’t he just kill our Barry? Problem solved right? Answer: Because he would’ve wiped himself out of existence.

My suspicions were raised when Killer Frost met Savitar for the first time. You have to wonder why she was willing to trust Savitar so easily. It obviously had to be someone that she knows, and would trust 100%. Now Ronnie was not a speedster, so that means that there was only one person left that it could possibly be: Barry Allen.

When they revealed that Wally was fast enough to get to Savitar to stop him from killing Iris, I figured that was it. I figured that Wally would end up taking him down, but that didn’t happen.

You know, it really shows Barry’s character when he was willing to give Savitar a second chance.

When that happened, I was hoping that Savitar would get a redemption arc, but that didn’t happen either.

Instead what happened was that Iris takes him down with a gun.

I’m sorry, but, as powerful as Savitar was, there was no way in hell that he would have been taken down that easily. I’m sorry, but Savitar’s death was cheap. It was pathetic, and it sucked.

Also, Savitar being a time remnant in its self was highly disappointing. I wholeheartedly believe that because of the way Team Flash treats Barry, that Savitar is what Barry turns into one day. With all the shit that Barry has been through, he’s going to snap one day, and when he does, Savitar will be the result of that.

#The flash #Barry Allen #Savitar #Tbh I'm still salty about Savitar's cheap death

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sports-and-fandoms · 8 years ago

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“Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’!”

Hey guys! Finally, part 4 is out! This is the one we have all been waiting for. I hope you guys like this one. Will Jim marry Carol or not.

Warning: angst, fluff, Jim Kirk’s blue eyes, cursing. Angry Bones is a warning. Some weird southern expression.

Words: 936 words, it’ll be longer next time. Promise.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Here we go!! Happy reading!

The church was silent, until someone in the far back coughed a little.

Everyone was staring at Jim. The pastor, the guests, the groomsmen, and Carol. Carol Marcus, soon to be Mrs. Kirk, was waiting for her future husband to finally utter those two words. The two words that would bind them together for eternity.

But Jim was silent like the dead of night.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought.

He couldn’t take it anymore, this is getting out of hand, he thought.

Putting his feelings for Y/N aside, he tried really hard to be happy about this whole thing, but it was just such an idiotic idea. A couple more seconds and it would be too late. He had to do something before it was too late.

“I repeat, James Tiberius Kirk, do you take Carol Marcus to be your lawfully wedded wife, til death do you part? “

A few more seconds of silence.

Damn it, Jim!

“No he does not!“

Gasps rang throughout the small church.

Everyone turned to look at the best man, Leonard McCoy.

Leonard McCoy was not the most patient man, no not at all. Yet, he had put up with this shit for just over 3 years. Three years of watching his two best friends pinning for each other but pretending not to. Three years of watching a stupid blue eyed blond ignore the best thing that ever happened to him, except him of course because if it wasn’t for Bones Jim would be partying with Satan now.

On one hand, was his best friend since his early days at the academy, on the other, was the woman that anyone would die to be with. Y/N was one of a kind. Although he would never say out loud, he had a small crush on the smart doctor. But Jim, he was completely and utterly in love with her. Worse of all, he didn’t even know it.

“You heard me. This has gone long enough!“

“Bones-“

“No, you. You just shut up. Just- just shut up. I have watched you lie to everyone and yourself for the past three years. THREE YEARS Jim!! No more! Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’, Jim! Stop lyin’! For three years, I had to hear you go on and on about your feelings. And let me tell you this, hearing you yapper about every single argument you’ve ever had with Carol, and about how much you miss being friends with Y/N has not been the highlight of my life. Damn it man, I’m a Doctor not a RELATIONSHIP COUNSELLOR! “

“Bones-“

“Just shut up Jim. I’m not done! Have I told you that you are the stupidest man I know. I don’t even know how I’m friends with you. I must have been really, really drunk the day I first met you. My God, man! For three years, as your best friend, I have put up with this stupid idea, hell, I’ve been doing it since the first time we met. But now, I’m done! There’s an old Georgian saying Jim: “When the Lord was handin’ out brains, that fool thought God said trains, and he passed ‘cause he don’t like to travel”. You’ve been missing out on the woman of your life, your ENTIRE life. You’ve been friends with her for two DECADES and you still haven’t realized that she’s the one for you. If that ain’t stupidity, I don’t know what is.“

He paused for a second. Jim thought Bones was done, so he opened his mouth to say something, but Bones continued.

“Look Jim. If you still want to marry Carol, go ahead but I just had to tell you before you do this. As much as I hate your guts sometimes, you’re still my best friend. I’ll support you, no matter who you choose, but know this. Out of respect, I didn’t make a move on Y/N, and I was sure you would wake up and make your move. But if you marry Marcus, then I’m going for her.“

For once in his life, Jim Kirk was speechless. What does one say to this?

A few moments passed, Jim’s mind whirled with hundreds of possibilities.

Finally, he made his decision.

Jim was going to say the two words that would change everyone’s lives for ever.

“I…“

“Captain.”

Jim’s gaze shifted to his trusty First Officer, Spock.

“We have a problem, sir.“

“Now what, Spock! I have to say I-“

“Sir, Starfleet HQ was just attacked. At least 10 people have died, and countless others have been injured.“

“Spock-“

Carol screeched. {A.N Imagine an annoying bird. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really like her… }

“ON MY WEDDING DAY! Please Mr. Spock, not now. We are about to get married, and-“

“Commander Y/L/N is amongst the injured. I have just received news that she’s in critical condition, and…“

“And? And what, Spock?“

“An old acquaintance of mine is treating her, Doctor M’Benga. He was the one that informed me of her presence in the hospital, and-“

“Straight to the point, Spock!“

Jim wouldn’t say it out loud, but Bones knew he was panicking.

“M’Benga doesn’t know if she’ll make it. Nyota and I are leaving for Starfleet now, you are free to come along, Sir.“

“Jim, I’m going too.”

“Bones-“

“Jim, M’Benga is gonna need all the help he can get. Now the decision is yours, are you coming with us or are you getting married to Carol?“

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just- I have to do this. I promised her.”

“I’m sorry Carol.“

Yo Cliffhanger, DUNDUNDUNNNNNNNN! Ok so, I had another sleepless night and I have already planned the next two parts. I just have to find the time to write… My aunt is visiting from Ireland, I haven’t seen her in over 9 years… Moreover, I have another aunt and an uncle plus their family and my grandparents coming over this Thursday. They’re staying till next week so I don’t know if I’ll be able to update soon. That is why I’m giving you guys a small gift. Finally, Jim is leaving Carol’s blond butt at the altar! Yayyyy!!!!! Or is he…? *Insert Law and Order Dun Dun*

Thanks for reading!!

Tags: (Tumblr keeps leaving people out and deleting my tag lists… So If you’re not here, dm me. I always check dm before I post stuff.)

@wonders-of-the-enterprise@samaxraph99 @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @curiosity-killed-the-speedster @yourtropegirl @engineeringtrashcan @goingknowherewastaken @a-mermaid-in-space @eufeme @hayleynightcore @avengersgirllorianna @cinema212 @kaitlynw011 @champagne75 @stxrtrek @aletalks @dudahmautner

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junker-town · 6 years ago

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Can a team of 25 Ichiros win the World Series?

If you were to build a team with nothing but clones of a single player, which player would you choose? The correct answer is Ichiro Suzuki, and Kofie Yeboah is going to prove it.

When people talk about MVP Baseball 2005, two words always come out of their mouths.

“Jon Dowd.”

Yes, the EA Sports counter to Barry Bonds turned into a cult icon for many years after the series ended. The character became something people can talk about at networking events and water coolers to prove that they, in fact, also had a childhood. The reason why the 40-year-old wasn’t in the game was due to the fact that Bonds decided to individually license his likeness, rather than work with the MLBPA. So instead of getting dude with an iconic cross earring and a batting stance that oozes swagger, we got a guy that you can’t pick out of an Imagine Dragons lineup with the most generic batting stance.

Seriously, it literally says generic.

I used to do this anyway.

If you ask me, the best player in the game was not Jon Dowd, but Ichiro Suzuki.

While there aren’t official overall rating numbers in this game, Ichiro is listed as the 13th best player in the game behind Jon Dowd, Vladimir Guerrero, Albert Pujols, Todd Helton, Manny Ramirez, Ivan “Pudge” Rodriguez, Scott Rolen, Pedro Martinez, Johan Santana, Adrian Beltre, Randy Johnson and David Ortiz.

It makes sense when you look at this on screen, but when you actually play the video game it’s clear that Ichiro is even better than his already high overall ranking.

To showcase Ichiro’s talents and abilities, I’ve decided to make a team comprised of Ichiro clones to see if they can win the World Series.

But before I do that, let’s take a closer look at the elements that make Ichiro an absolute nightmare for the other team.

Hitting

First, I want to address the hitting mechanics in MVP Baseball 2005. As is the case with many of today’s video games, hitting is separated into contact and power. A hitter with good contact and bad power can theoretically launch the ball into orbit if the pitch is juicy enough. A big power hitter with bad contact can launch many balls into space, but have a higher risk of pop ups and long fly ball outs.

This isn’t the case with Ichiro.

Ichiro is so good at contact hitting that he could also in turn hit for power. Against left-handed pitching, he was given a power rating of 69 and a contact rating of 99. Against right-handed pitching, he was given a power rating of 58 and a contact rating of 97.

The power rating doesn’t seem that impressive until you look at some of the other players in the game. Miguel Cabrera, a player with 33 home runs in 2004, was given a 74 power rating against lefties.

Adrian Beltre — who hit 48 home runs in 2004, but only six against left-handed pitching — was given a 71 overall power rating against lefties. This decent power rating paired with godlike contact skill allowed Ichiro to have a different play style in the video game. According to Baseball-Reference.com, Ichiro had a home run to fly ball ratio of 3.8%. Let’s compare that to Barry Bo … I mean Jon Dowd, whose ratio was 24.5% in that same season.

Ratings aside, you could hit many home runs with Ichiro if you wanted. Of all the hot and cold zone displays in the game, Ichiro is one of the few players with more than 9 total hot zones out of the 18 possible.

Of those few, most are all-stars or legends who have to be unlocked in the game, so that puts Ichiro in elite company. If you gave Ichiro a high 2-seam or 4-seam fastball, there was a good chance he would tag it out of the park.

Ichiro’s power potential isn’t far-fetched either. His longest homer in the Statcast era is 432 feet. There’s even a dope video from the YouTube channel Foolish Baseball that investigates Ichiro’s power-hitting potential.

However, doing so would be disrespectful to real life Ichiro, a player who once said, “chicks who dig home runs aren’t the ones who appeal to me. I think there’s sexiness in infield hits because they require technique.”

With this newfound power, Ichiro could also hit the ball over the outfielders, who would play shallow against him on certain occasions. This allowed for normal fly balls to drop in for a hit, and gave Ichiro another chance to showcase his speed. In his case, if a ball hit the wall, it was almost always a guaranteed triple. Depending on the dimensions of the ballpark, it could be an instant home run.

My favorite part of the game was choosing a retro ballpark with absolutely wonky dimensions and watching Ichiro just go to town with his speed. It was amazing to watch. Let’s look at the Polo Grounds as an example. You see how the center field fence is 483 feet away from home plate? Trust me, this will come up later.

To test Ichiro’s power potential, I put him against Albert Pujols in the home run showdown. Even thought he lost most of the showdowns, Ichiro would often hit the same number of home runs as Albert Pujols. Here is one of the attempts. Yes, Albert won, but it shouldn’t be this close. At all.

This result had me convinced that Ichiro could actually win.

So close.

19 POINTS?! OH COME ON!

It took over 20+ tries, but Ichiro finally beat Albert in a Home Run Showdown.

Even if you didn’t want to go for the long ball, you could still wreck all kinds of havoc on the diamond. Because at the end of the day ...

Ichiro is still fast as hell.

Ichiro’s speed rating is a 97, which is a freaking nightmare for catchers, pitchers and the entire defense at the same time. The only players faster than Ichiro in this game are:

Lou Brock, and that’s it. Power didn’t dominate MVP Baseball 2005. Speed did.

If you started a fantasy dynasty of fast players, such as Scott Podsednik, Rafael Furcal, Chone Figgins, Carl Crawford and Juan Pierre, you could construct the most irritating lineup of all time.

With players like these, you were damn near guaranteed to make it to second after bunting, making it to first and then stealing. If the catcher wasn’t a top-tier thrower, they were screwed. If the pitcher took a long time delivering the ball out of the stretch, they were out of luck.

To put his speed to the test, we had Ichiro attempt to steal 100 bases against the best-throwing catcher in the game, Ivan Rodriguez (Henry Blanco was also an option). Here’s what we found whenever Ichiro tried to steal second base against the best.

If you didn’t throw your hardest fastball or pitch out, you weren’t likely to catch Ichiro. Now, a 57% steal success rate seems pretty pedestrian. Ichiro’s career steal success rate was 81%, including a whopping 85% of his attempts of third base. However, keep in mind that all of this data involves the fastest, most accurate catchers arm in the game.

Imagine if I’d used Mike Piazza.

Let’s not forget about bunting, either

The MVP Baseball drag bunt animation was quick and came out of nowhere, so there really wasn’t any tip-off to what the speedster was up to. When you give that quick of an animation to a player with a bunting rating of 99 and a speed rating of 97, you’re going to see some serious shit. Just look at this.

When you pair Ichiro’s speed with his insane hitting power, he could make some incredible plays. He could bunt for a hit and get down the line so fast that the defender wouldn’t even bother making the throw. They just gave up.

Let’s talk defense.

When you have all that speed, that’s one thing. When you have speed and an arm chiseled personally by God, there’s nothing that can stop you. On April 11th, 2001, Ichiro threw a perfect strike from right field to put the entire league on notice.

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Anyone who has seen this clip should know better than to challenge Ichiro, but for some reason people kept testing this man.

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Here are Ichiro’s fielding stats.

Remember when I said the Polo Grounds center field fence was 483 feet away from home plate? Here’s Ichiro throwing to home from that exact spot like it’s no big deal.

I think this speaks for itself.

Now, I had the idea to make a team full of Ichiros and see how far I could take them. (The first initials are there because the game forced me to enter a first name, and I wanted to tell them apart for statistical purposes.)

This leaves one unanswered question.

What about pitching?

Can Ichiro pitch? He was a pitcher in high school, but what about the professional level? The answer is yes! Luckily I had two frames of reference.

There is the time he pitched in 2015.

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And the time he pitched in the 1996 Japanese All-Star Game.

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Ichiro mainly sticks with the simple fastball-changeup combination, but the occasional breaking ball shows up.

So we have a three-pitch arsenal that we’re going to have to stick with for 162+ games. While it’s serviceable, I’m not expecting any Barry Zito-level performances.

Are we ready? I’m ready. Let’s do this.

Dynasty Time!

These are our team goals. I think we’re going to win more than 2 Silver Slugger awards and score the most runs in baseball.

April 2005: 16-8 (first in A.L. West)

After one month of play, the Seattle Ichiros are 16-8. In 24 games, three Ichiro clones are hitting .400 or higher, and seven are batting over .300.

SEVEN OF THE TOP 11 players in the stolen base category are Ichiros. Another Ichiro is leading the team with six wins and two saves already. He’s also 7th in the league in strikeouts. WHAT.

The team has combined for 72 stolen bases and has been caught stealing only 6 times. GOOD LORD. As expected, the pitching staff is marginally mediocre.

For this team however, that’s more than good enough.

May: 19-8 (35-16 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

For some reason, the Seattle Ichiros have regressed into the 29th-best pitching team in the league, but thanks to incredible hitting and fielding, we are tied for the best record in baseball. Nine Ichiros are in the top 10 for stolen bases. Everything is going well, except for R. Ichiro. We also had a trade offer for Ray Durham. Do we make a deal?

Hell no. We’re the Seattle Ichiros. All or nothing.

June: 17-9 (52-25 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

The Seattle Ichiros have the best record in baseball at 52-25. Seven Ichiros are hitting over .300, and eight have over 20 stolen bases. The only other players in the league with more than 20 are Carl Crawford and Bobby Abreu.

The pitching has not produced a single shutout win the entire season so far, but it looks like what’s working is working. Score a lot of runs, tank pitching, win, repeat. My manager grade is also an A- which is weird because I’m not even watching the games. Maybe I should watch a game.

*The Ichiros won 11-5*

This is a baseball game unlike any I’ve seen before. I’ve never seen such aggressive baserunning spread all throughout the roster. The Ichiros stole 6 bases and never got caught. It’s like watching all the racers in Mario Kart with endless speed mushrooms. I wish real baseball was like this. Watching this team field is similar to watching superheroes do pedestrian tasks with their powers like it’s no big deal.

This is definitely a championship team. Can the Ichiros really bring Seattle their first World Series title ever?

July: 15-11 (67-36 for the season, second in the A.L. West and 1st in the Wild Card race)

So. Apparently the Angels are really freakin’ good. See what happens when you have good pitching? Wow.

Even still, the Ichiro collective is doing their best to rectify this with some solid hitting. By the way, nine Ichiros made the All-Star Team, which if I had to guess would be the first time that’s ever happened? Nine All-Stars and they’re not even leading the division. Incredible.

Meanwhile, don’t look now but Jon Dowd is going for a Triple Crown.

August: 17-11 (85-47 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

Jesus Christ, what happened to the Angels?

Even though the Ichiros didn’t have a weird surge, the Angels seem to be going through it. Seattle has opened up a seven-game lead on the Angels. Luckily, the Angels have a chance to make up ground in September, as they have six games against the Ichiros.

The Ichiros have scored 931 runs this season; the next closest team has 767. That’s wild. They also have six players with at least 15 home runs or more, which is of note because Ichiro’s season high in the real world is 15 home runs.

We have 30 games left.

(I’m very impressed with the fact that none of the Ichiros have sustained an injury yet. I’m lying I turned injuries off.)

September-October: 16-12 (102-60 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

Thanks to four head-to-head wins over the Angels, the Ichiros were able to clinch the division and finish with 102 wins and 1,135 runs scored — 4th-most in baseball history, and most since 1894. Did they win the most games this season? Nope, the Boston Red Sox netted 106 Ws thanks to a solid lineup and *cough* good pitching *cough*

Despite being walked 139 times. Jon Dowd hit for the Triple Crown. Thanks for putting a potential hole in my argument, EA.

One of the Ichiro clones finished with a whopping 70 stolen bases. The team as a whole combined for 452 stolen bases while being caught 101 times. That’s a whopping 82% success rate as a TEAM. These were the next teams that came close.

Two Ichiros had more 200 hits while everyone in the starting lineup hit more than 170. We also achieved two of the five team goals. The two realistic goals!

ONE OF THEM ALSO WON AMERICAN LEAGUE MVP!

PLAYOFFS, BABY! My only rule going into this is that all the elimination games will be a live gameplay sim.

ALDS: Ichiros vs. Yankees

Off-screen computer simulations:

Game 1: Yankees 13, Ichiros 11

Game 2: Yankees 14, Ichiros 11

On-screen simulations:

Game 3: Ichiros 14, Yankees 5

Game 4: Ichiros 12, Yankees 3

Game 5: Ichiros 11, Yankees 3

So, something of importance that I should note: there are two types of simulations in this game. There is the quick sim that doesn’t show any gameplay, and then there is the longer simulation that showcases gameplay. Now, the quick sim was for most of the regular season and held true to the ratings and what each player would theoretically do. However, the gameplay sims showcase a different element of all of these things. You get to see just how much chaos this team can cause. I also think this sim does a better job of highlighting just how many runs a team full of Ichiros can score on offense and prevent on defense. This is the main difference between the two types of simulations.

ALDS: Ichiros vs. Red Sox

This is going to be the toughest challenge yet for the Ichiros. Not only will they have to face the best-pitching team in the league, they also have to go up against some fearsome left-handed hitters. Since all the Ichiros throw right-handed, there is no way to neutralize David Ortiz, Johnny Damon or Trot Nixon.

Game 1: Ichiros 12, Red Sox 6

The Ichiros went to town on Curt Schilling in spurts and it got so bad that Bronson Arroyo had to relieve him in the 3rd inning. You hate to see it.

Game 2: Ichiros 18, Red Sox 2

Going up against David Wells was easy pickings for the Ichiros, who absolutely destroy left-handed pitching. The dimensions of Fenway are also advantageous to the Ichiros. Normal flyouts in other parks turn into off the wall doubles/triples.

David Wells only lasted 5 outs. These Ichiros do a great job getting out on these hot starts and then jumping all over the relief pitching. It’s a magical strategy.

Game 3: Ichiros 6, Red Sox 5

After the Sox take a 5-0 lead by the 3rd inning, the Ichiros face their first test of adversity in the series, but answer back with three runs in the 3rd and three more in the 6th. The Ichiros leaned on their mediocre pitching and great defense to move one win away from the World Series.

Game 4: Ichiros 13, Red Sox 8

After scoring EIGHT runs in the third inning, the Red Sox give up 13 unanswered runs thanks to Ichiro, Ichiro and Ichiro. The Ichiros hit three home runs and six triples to keep putting pressure on the Red Sox pitching staff. Honestly, if Boston hadn’t won the World Series in 2004, I would think this was some part of a curse or something.

This was an unreal fight from the Ichiros. It’s a shame we never got to see them face off against knuckleball god Tim Wakefield. But now the Ichiros are heading to the World Series to face off against. Jon Dowd and the Giants. THIS IS OCTOBER!

World Series: Ichiros vs. Giants

Here we go. A team full of Ichiros vs. Jon Dowd and friends. Statistically speaking, the Yankees and Red Sox were both better opponents, but the Giants are still ranked higher than the Mariners because of our team’s lack of pitching. However, the Giants are one of the slowest teams in the league. It’ll be interesting to see how this dynamic plays out.

Game 1: Ichiros 6, Giants 2

Jon Dowd went 0-4. YOU LOVE TO SEE IT.

Game 2: Ichiros 17, Giants 6

A Jon Dowd grand slam couldn’t stop the Ichiro task force, which hit 5 home runs.

Game 3: Ichiros 12, Giants 1

A Jon Dowd solo home run was nowhere close to enough to stop the flurry. I never thought I would say this, but get Jon Dowd some help!

Game 4: Ichiros 9, Giants 3

GO CRAZY SEATTLE! THE ICHIRO CLONES HAVE TAKEN HOME THE WORLD SERIES TITLE!

ABSOLUTE PLAYOFF DOMINATION!

Offseason

Because we won the World Series, I have been rewarded with a team budget increase of 3.6 million dollars. However, since I put every create-a-player on a one-year contract, nearly the entire team is asking for a new deal.

I really didn’t think this through. Let’s see if I can re-sign them all.

DYNASTY TIME BABY! We made it to spring training with all of the Ichiros intact. On that note, we will end our simulation. We’ve had a hell of a run, but now it’s time to conclude and debrief.

Conclusion

When we used the non-gameplay simulation, the game stayed true to the stats that Ichiro was capable of producing. Those stats added up and allowed us to win dependently. Now, the hitting side sounds believable to a sense. When you duplicate someone that possessed a league-leading .372 batting average, you’re in for a lot of baserunners and scoring opportunities.

The shakiest part of the non-gameplay simulation has to be the pitching. A team of Ichiros giving up only five runs a game doesn’t sound that believable to me, especially when other teams full of actual pitchers in the game gave up more runs. It’s hard to tell whether the defensive prowess of the Ichiros was accounted for in these simulations.

The gameplay simulations were a different story, however, as you can see just how dominant the Ichiro squad was on offense and defense. On offense, the Ichiros barely struck out and every single ball put in play looked like it could be a hit. The Ichiros preyed on slow outfielders like Jon Dowd and middle-tier arms like Johnny Damon. Using these two advantages, the Ichiro squad could turn doubles into triples whenever they wanted. Every time an Ichiro walked, a steal seemed imminent and there was little you could do to stop it.

Now, watching Ichiro pitch in real-time made me nervous, but he does just enough to mitigate the damage. When the pitchers were in a jam, they would often get bailed out by the amazing speed and glove of an Ichiro. It’s nice to have someone with 10 career gold gloves at every position on the field.

The gameplay sims took everything that Ichiro was good at on paper and amplified them to a point where they looked absolutely unbeatable. When they faced elimination against the Yankees, I switched gameplay simulations to “document the end” but I realized that these sims make the Ichiros seem like gods. I do wish that I had done gameplay simulations of the entire playoffs so that those two Yankees losses wouldn’t be there, but at least I switched over before it was too late.

If I had done real gameplay simulations for all 162 games in the regular season, I think that the Ichiros could have won 140+ games easily. There was no way I was going to do that because that would be way too much time put into this project. I barely watch real baseball right now, you think I was going to watch weeks of virtual baseball? Hell no.

The regular season simulation allowed us to make the playoffs and that’s all that mattered to me at the end of the day. The chance to have a chance.

Ichiro is one of the greatest players in baseball history, but he’s overshadowed by most video games he’s featured in. In MVP Baseball there’s Jon Dowd, in Backyard Baseball there’s Pablo Sanchez and Pete Wheeler. In The Bigs, it was basically every power hitter in the game.

He never was a cover athlete for MVP Baseball, Triple Play Baseball, MLB 2K, The Bigs, or MLB: The Show. He never got the recognition he deserved for being OP in multiple video games. So the next time you hear MVP Baseball 2005 and someone mentioning Jon Dowd, bring up Ichiro. Bring up this article that I spent way too much on to show a video game legend the respect he deserves.

Finally, as a reward for making it through this article, here is a wholesome picture of Ichiro smiling.

Getty Images

You’re welcome.

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robininthelabyrinth · 8 years ago

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Everybody Wants to Rule the World (except Len and Mick)

Fic: Everybody Wants to Rule the World (except Len and Mick) (ao3 link) Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow, the Flash Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: After the Oculus spits Leonard Snart out, he and Mick go home and let the Legends carry forth hunting down the mysterious time-travelling saboteur by themselves. Clearly this is a mistake, because next thing they know, they're waking up in something that people are calling "Doomworld."

Well, that just means it's up to Len and Mick to fix it -

Except that, too, is a mistake, because now they're somehow ruling the world and, worse, the official owners of one Barry Allen, speedster.

A/N: No actual dubious consent was involved except in the world-ruling.

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After everything, they go home.

Len's still nauseous from his adventure in the Oculus - not unlike a whirly-gig, he'd explained, just through time - and Mick, well, Mick was pretending he was over the whole Kronos thing a lot more than he really was.

He only has so much room to feel hurt, and the hurt of losing Len had eclipsed it all - right up until the Oculus had spat Len out onto the floor of the Waverider in the middle of one of the worst timestream storms either Rip or Mick had ever seen.

According to Len, the Oculus swallowed him, but didn't think he tasted good. Too much truck with speedsters.

Len's explanations for the Oculus change every time. Nobody ever pointed it out.

It didn't matter, not to Mick. Len is back. He’s back. They’re back together.

They go back.

Back to Central, Len's beloved city. Back where they belong.

"There's still more to do," Ray said to Mick, right before they'd left for home. "Travel the timeline with us. Help protect it with us."

"We're thieves, not heroes," Mick replied. He hesitated. Ray had been kind, trying to fill the hole Len left behind, backing off when Mick had made it clear he didn't want that hole filled. "But thanks for offering, Haircut."

They spend some time lying low when they get back. Nice, quiet. Looking at blueprints like they're thinking of pulling a job, but not seriously. Fiddling with their guns.

Quiet.

It's two weeks before Len says, "I think I died."

It's another two days before Mick says, "I think I did, too."

Another two hours before Len says, "I remember it."

Two minutes before Mick says, "Me, too."

They look at each other.

"Two hours?" Len offers, getting up to get the hard liquor, the stuff that's been sitting in the corner, waiting for them to get their act together. It's the way they've always done it when fists didn't get them where they needed to go - the drink let them pretend it was the alcohol spilling feelings, not them.

Lets them pretend they got so drunk that they both totally black out the whole experience, too.

"Make it two days," Mick says. They have a lot to talk about.

He goes first. Kronos is - he learned a lot. He did a lot. He suffered a lot. Some of that was Len's fault. Some of it wasn't.

There were some good parts. Ginny, his AI - he'd liked her.

"Parked her somewhere secret outside Nanda Parbat," Mick says. "But I told her to go to rest in Keystone if I didn't come for her."

"We can go pick her up," Len offers. "Put her in the basement."

Mick's shoulders, which had been tightening up at the thought of more time travel, relax. The basement. Yes. That was good. Their favorite, most legitimate safehouse - more warehouse than anything else, but the cops wouldn't touch it. They kept parts of their stashes there.

It would be a good place to put Ginny and her ship. Give her a place to rest her head not too far from Mick, but not so close he might feel compelled to use her. Not close enough for the nightmares, which have never gone away, to gain in power.

"We should do that," Mick agrees.

Len goes next. He talks about his motivations with the crew, how they changed; he goes back in time, talks about how killing his old man after so many years of terror felt; jumps forward again, talks about 2046, how he'd been afraid of losing Mick; back again, talks about Barry, the superhero, about how being a supervillain filled some part of his soul...

He talks about Kronos. How he'd felt, waking up tied on that ship. About Mick's threats.

About smashing his hand.

"I'm sorry," Mick says. They don't do that, don't say that, but this one was a whopper of a fuck-up. He can always blame the drink, all three of them he's had. Nowhere near his tolerance.

"I shouldn't have left you," Len whispers, and Mick understands that he blames himself.

Talking that out takes the rest of the evening.

They're sick the next day - even drinking slow, that's a lot of liquor - but they keep going. Scab after scab, wound after wound, until they've lanced every boil, till they're back to equilibrium.

Hot and cold, fire and ice. Balanced.

"So," Mick says, as they put back the bottles. "Sara, huh? Thinking about her as a third?"

They've been looking for a while. They've always worked better with a third, someone to keep company with when Mick burns too hot or Len goes too cold, someone to remind them they don't want to split apart, but they've never found someone worth keeping. Mick's content to let Len do the footwork; he's far more charming.

"I was," Len admits. "But she's pretty tied up with her new gig with the timeline, and I think we've both had enough of that."

Mick nods, not disagreeing.

The next day, Len gets to planning their next job. Seriously, this time. "Need to get our grove back before we go up against the Flash again," he says, grinning.

The first heist - Coast City - goes well enough. Not great - even Mick has to admit it's a little boring without having to account for the Flash - but well enough.

The next one - in Bludhaven - goes great. Mick rediscovers the joy in getting one over the cops, Len gets to indulge his taste for violence

(The Oculus didn't let you move, Len explained; not frozen but limp, forever and always. Some days he wakes up certain that he’s still there, for all that Mick shoves books about sleep paralysis at him.)

Mick's dragging his feet about going to pick up Ginny, afraid of nightmares, so one day Len sets up a nice burn for him - picnic blanket, giant bonfire tended to by other people, singing and dancing, some holiday of Len's that Mick loves - and does it himself, which means Mick comes home to their warehouse and Len tells him she's in the basement.

"How did you find her?" Mick asks, amazed. Ginny, like all time ships, is designed for camouflage.

Len shrugs, a little abashedly. "Ever since the Oculus spun me through its core like a ball inside a washing machine, I have a good sense for things that go through the timeline. Like a weathervane. Or a compass."

Mick nods, doesn't comment, and goes to talk to Ginny.

That night, Len's the one with nightmares.

They don't talk about it again. It's not their way to, not without the drink and the excuse - not without an emergency.

An emergency is what happens a few months later, in April.

They're having a quiet day - Mick working on souping up their cycles, Len reading a fiction book for once - and then suddenly Len's head jerks up like he's heard an explosion.

"What's up?" Mick asks, reaching for the gun sitting within reach - always within reach.

He's expecting many things - anything from the Flash to time pirates and back - but Len shakes his head and jumps to his feet, eyes wide with panic.

"The timeline," he says. "We need - guns, and to the basement. Now!"

They go.

At Mick's instruction, Ginny puts up her strongest shields, the ones that have never even been tested, designed to hold off an Oculus blast if need be. (Mick had designed them in his head in those long, painful months without Len, installing them only recently.)

Just as Ginny confirms that they are in place, the timestream surrounds them.

"Did we take off?" Mick asks, staring at the green swirls out of the window, which had previously shown nothing but dirty concrete walls.

"No," Len says grimly. "The timestream came to us."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. Someone is shaking the foundations of the world and re-writing them."

"An aberration?"

"No, worse. They're actually changing the entire course of the timestream. Reality itself."

"Will we be affected?"

Len puts his hand against the window pane. A curl of blue light within the green reaches back, brushing the pane from the outside almost lovingly, a caress from a dear friend.

"No," he says, and his eyes are strange and not the color they were a moment ago. "Our shields will hold, I think. But the world..."

"Shit," Mick says feelingly. He rather liked the world.

He hoped what they found when they went out wouldn't be too bad.

The time storm lasts the whole night - they curl together in Kronos' bed; Mick rewriting his terrible history in the eerie blue glow of Len's eyes - and in the morning they come out to find...

"An evil dictatorship," Len says flatly.

"Should've guessed, really," Mick agrees.

"They call their centralized organization that runs the world Doomworld. They're not even trying to be subtle!"

Mick picks up a newspaper while Len's ranting. He hums. "Looks like some guy calling himself Lord Eobard Thawne solved global warming, though."

"Well, yeah; what's the point of making your own universe if it sinks in a few years, I guess. Wait, Lord? How goddamn pretentious. What do we know about him?"

Mick grins. "You're going to like this," he says.

Len arches an eyebrow. "Changed universe," he reminds Mick. "I don't think I'm going to like any of it."

"This you will."

"Fine; I'll bite. What is it?"

Mick hands him the newspaper. "Eobard Thawne is a speedster."

Len pauses even as he takes the newspaper and spreads it before him.

"You're right," he murmurs, looking at the full-page spread showing Thawne running in a streak of red light. "I do like this."

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

The world, they find, hasn't changed all that much.

Really.

The Particle Accelerator still happened, for one thing; the Flash's exploits, for another. Star City is still - well, a raging dumpster fire, but that's normal for Star City.

Honestly, the only thing that's changed is the almost phlegmatic way everybody accepts Doomworld and what Len has taken to snidely calling the Terrible Trio – Eobard Thawne, Damien Darkh, and Malcolm Merlyn – as their evil overlords.

Oh, there's a resistance, of course - what evil overlord dreamland doesn't have a nice little resistance to hunt down and destroy at their leisure? - but it's not much to look at.

"They don't even appreciate a challenge," Len grumbles.

"Pathetic," Mick agrees.

They can't find the Flash anywhere, and it seems like Sara is now a brainwashed death-squad member. They haven't see any of the other Legends, but guesses weren't good.

"Haircut might be able to make something to fix the brainwashing," Mick suggests. "If we can find him."

"Maybe," Len says, watching Sara and a black girl he doesn't recognize prance around in black leather and lethal smiles. "But if these assholes will dress them up like fetish models, I don't know if we can afford to wait for him to build something."

Mick nods grimly. That hadn't occurred to him, but it should have.

He doesn’t like the blank way Felicity Smoak smiles from her position standing behind Malcolm Merlyn in the newspaper photos much, either. She’d been nice. She deserved better than being a supervillain evil overlord's secretary.

"So," Mick says. It's a question.

"Yes," Len says. It's an answer.

That's all they need to say to each other, after all these years. They might be villains, sure, but they didn't work with the Families and they didn't truck with people who exploited power to cause others pain.

And they certainly didn't permit it in their city now that they were supervillains.

"He'd better not have killed the Flash," Len mutters darkly. "I liked him."

"There's got to be a way to fix this," Mick says. It's more hope than anything else - that timestream flood had been something new. Different. Scary.

Even Kronos had never heard anything like it.

But it makes Len nod, more determined than ever.

In the end, it takes them ten days, most of which was spent planning for contingencies.

They go to Star City, where Damian Darkh makes his home. The main hub of Doomworld is where the old STAR Labs used to be in Central, of course, but Darkh clearly had a grudge against the Star City vigilantes, or he wouldn't have made himself the mayor of a fairly insignificant city or sent his death squads against them - luckily, those he already captured were sentenced to public executions which had yet to take place.

Darkh is expecting heroes to attack, that much is clear with the obvious guards and shields. But he hasn't discounted the threat potentially posed by his fellow Doomworld leaders - he also has defenses against sneak attacks (Merlyn) or speedsters (Eobard).

He doesn't have any proper defenses against a clever thief who's happy to distract him with a smile and a story while his partner ices him in the back.

(Mick's few extra months of being a Legend were very useful - Darkh is so eager to use him against the others, he forgets about Mick's poor, dead partner.)

Once Darkh is dead, it's easy enough to call in Merlyn, nominally for a meeting, only for Mick to light the whole waiting room he's in on fire.

Merlyn really shouldn't have spent all that time on defenses to magical and sword attacks. Acknowledging diversity can change your life - or save it, in this case. Even if it is only diversity in styles of killing people.

"Two down," Mick says.

"One to go."

They return to Central even as word spreads of the two deaths in Star City.

Thawne is expecting them - generally, anyway. He's a little surprised to find them already waiting in his throne room.

"Captain Cold and Heatwave," he says ingratiatingly, clearly willing to play the cards he has with a slick snake-oil salesman's smile. "Welcome. It appears you've done me a favor. What reward -"

"This city is ours," Len says, and fires.

Thawne dodges.

"You don't want power?" he asks. "You could take Merlyn and Darkh's places -"

"I don't want to rule the world," Len says, firing again. Thawne dodges like it's nothing and the shot goes wide of the mark.

"Pity you won't listen to reason," Thawne says with a smirk, and charges straight at Len, hands buzzing like chainsaws.

The sound he makes when he's yoinked into Scudder's mirror-world is honest-to-god hilarious.

"Payment time," Scudder says, appearing on the outside of the mirror.

"Not yet," Len says, stepping out from the side of the room where he'd been play-acting for Scudder's mirrors. He aims his gun and freezes the mirror. If Scudder's right, and Len does trust him to know his own powers, then in just a moment -

The mirror shatters and Thawne staggers out, totally disoriented. That disorientation means he doesn't dodge or run, leaving him open to be hit dead on by the blast of Lisa's spare gold gun.

Mick's idea, since Lisa's off in the Caribbean, relaxing. No one ever expects Mick to use anything but fire, especially not now.

Speedsters can shake off a lot. Gold plating? A little trickier. Thawne will have to figure out the vibrating frequency of gold before he can escape that.

Len doesn't give him a chance to do that. He ices the gold statute and shatters it into a hundred pieces.

"Payment," Scudder insists.

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you," Len recites through gritted teeth. A deal's a deal, no matter how dumb. "And the rest of the stash that I owe you is in the place on Willow Street."

Scudder studies him suspiciously. "And you won't try to kill me or Rosa again?"

"Don't date and then cheat on my sister again," Len shoots back. “Either of you.”

"...right," Scudder says, wincing in acknowledgment. "Me and Rosa are moving to Star City. No hard feelings?"

"Good luck with Star City," Mick says, swapping out the gold gun for his own heat gun to start melting the remaining gold pieces. His tone is final. Scudder makes like a tree and leaves.

Len hopes he also makes like a mirror and reflects, but he doubts it.

"So, that's that," Mick says.

"Good riddance," Len agrees. "Now the world can go back to normal."

Now that the threat is gone, they can restore the Legends and get them to fix the time stream.

No problem.

"Sir," someone says from the door. There's a small crowd of people in business suits.

"What?" Len asks.

"I suppose the first order of business is, how would you like to be addressed?" one of them asks.

"Addressed?"

"As the new leaders of Doomworld," the person clarifies.

Len and Mick exchange horrified looks.

Maybe not 'no problem'.

It turns out the entire system of Doomworld relies on there being an evil overlord, a role that can be obtained by murdering any of the three existing leaders. Since Len and Mick did the murdering, the role falls to them.

"That's a terrible system of inheritance!" Len exclaims. "Is everyone going to be gunning for us, now?"

"No, no," the chief bureaucrat says soothingly. "It only applied to the original three – Lord Thawne, Master Darkh, and Ra’s al Ghul, also called Lord Merlyn."

"Wait. Only them? But why?!"

"They were all planning on getting each other," Mick says.

"Of all the stupid..."

"What's the consequences if we don't do it?" Mick asks the guy.

The list is - very, very long.

The Terrible Trio had been very thorough. They ruled the whole world, not just parts of North America - the world was now under a unified world government, all of which referred to and was subject to the great big administrative body which was Doomworld. Doomworld was designed to fall apart without an overlord. If Doomworld fell apart -

World war.

"You've got to be kidding me," Mick says flatly.

"Afraid not," Len drawls. He's regained his cool. "Don't worry, Mick; it's just until the Legends fix it, right?"

"...right."

"Oh, and there's the matter of the personal inheritance," the bureaucrat says.

"Personal?"

"Yes, of course. Lord Thawne's pet."

"A speedster with a pet," Len says, looking amused. "What is it? A cheetah? Peregrine falcon?"

The bureaucrat nods at the doorway, where Barry Allen is being lead in by a leash attached to some sort of high-tech looking collar. "Another speedster," the bureaucrat says.

Len gapes.

Mick gapes.

Barry rubs behind his head. "Uh," he says. "Hi, guys?"

This is a serious problem.

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

"So let me get this straight," Len says. His voice is cool, but Barry can tell he's incredibly pissed off. "You have to obey the leaders of Doomworld - currently us."

"Yep," Barry confirms.

"And you need to be in physical contact of some sort with us for at least an hour a day or else you're in agony from the collar that none of us can remove, not even with our guns." Len sounds positively murderous.

"Eobard didn't get to do anything," Barry assures him. "He was too bust plotting against Merlyn and Darkh - he thought they were going to team up against him - so he just liked making me beg for him to touch me and then, uh, petting my head."

"Creep," Mick grumbles.

"I don't disagree," Barry says rather fervently.

"So how much do you remember of the timeline?" Len asks.

"Enough to know it changed," Barry says. "The speed force protected me from losing my memories."

"Right," Mick says. "Ramon ought to have the same, right?"

Barry makes a face. "They made him a millionaire," he says ruefully. "It might take a while before he remembers everything."

"We'll call him and get him to remove the collar," Len says firmly. "You can't possibly stay like this."

"Of course not," Barry agreed.

Unfortunately, Cisco refused to be found. His secretary apologized, then announced he was busy, then admits he's on a trip - not due back for a few more days. No way for him to return early, sorry.

"This is ridiculous," Len says.

Barry agrees, trying to hide his restless fidgeting. He was going to need that physical contact soon, but he didn't want to pressure the two supervillains who were currently in the middle of saving the world.

Mick's hand falls on Barry's shoulder.

All of Barry's muscles go slack with beautiful, wonderful release. He sighs happily.

"Appreciate it if you mention it next time," Mick says. "Don't want you to suffer."

"You try to light me on fire on a regular basis," Barry reminds him.

Mick shrugs. "That's for fun. This is just creepy."

Barry has to agree. Obeying Eobard Thawne - who took great pleasure in bringing up Flashpoint and force-feeding Barry Big Belly Burger for days on end - was not his idea of fun. Fighting Len and Mick was - closer.

Especially since Barry and Len made their deal, and then they went on the trip with the Legends. Mick had been really helpful for fighting the aliens.

Mick leaves his hand there as long as possible, but eventually he just yanks Barry onto the couch, squished right between him and Len. It's blissful. Barry could nap. Barry might nap.

"This isn't good," Len says.

Barry cracks an eye open.

Len has been studying paperwork all evening. Barry had assumed it was for a heist.

"What isn't good?"

"All that work for a unified world government," Len says, looking disgruntled, "and no one's worked out a way to feed the parts of the world with famine? We're going to have an uprising calling for our heads - mine and Mick, that is, since they were brainwashed into loving the first trio - if we don't solve this."

"That's bad," Barry acknowledges. If Len and Mick died before they solved his collar problem, his 'ownership' would transfer to...well, Barry doesn't want to find out. Not to mention avoiding war and famine! "How do we fix it?"

"We need to buy time," Len says, reaching up to rub his eyes. "Mick and I, we left the Legends before any of this happened, so we don't know what doohickey the Terrible Trio used to fix the world up."

"You didn't check before killing them?"

"No time with the speedster," Len says. "And Darkh had Sara brainwashed to be obedient - except she was prancing around in skin-tight leather. We didn't want her to suffer."

"Merlyn had some of the Star City squad," Mick puts in. His eyes are still hot with anger. "Felicity."

Barry nods. "So you took them out."

"It seemed wise to prioritize that," Len says. "Now we just need to get the Legends to tell us what they were doing so we can reverse it."

Barry nods again. "Makes sense. Where are they?"

"Sara's in Star City and we've, uh, summoned her. But the others? No clue."

"We haven't really had time to look," Mick grumbles. "Stupid evil overlordship."

"I can go look for them," Barry offers. "I mean, I'm your, uh, pet. I probably have enough authority to get them to come with me. And I'll be much faster."

"What about your physical contact issue?"

"I'll run back and we can do it, then I set out again," Barry says. "I'm fast enough that it won't really lose that much time."

"I'm not sure we'll have time," Len says, shuffling through the papers. His drawl has dropped off almost entirely, which Barry takes to mean that he's really worried. "If we want the machinery of Doomworld to keep working and not dissolve into world war around us, we have to spend a fair bit of time 'receiving' an audience. While sitting on - no. No. They did not name it that."

"What?" Mick asks.

Barry sniggers. He knows what Len found.

"What?" Mick says again, looking between the two of them, Len's exaggerated horror and Barry's shit-eating grin. "What is it? What'd they name it?"

"I think," Barry says with relish, "that he's talking about your Throne of Darkness."

Mick stares for a second and then puts his head in his hands. "I need a drink."

Barry reaches out and presses a hidden button the way Eobard always used to.

A person appears, wearing a Doomworld uniform, looking inquisitive.

"Bring alcohol," Barry instructs. "Including some of that stuff Eobard was always drinking. Oh, and lots of dinner. Thanks!"

The person nods and retreats as silently as they came.

Barry smiles, pleased.

Len and Mick are both staring at him in disbelief.

"What?" Barry says. "You have to play the role until the Legends fix this, right? Might as well enjoy some of the perks."

Besides, ever since Eobard said he'd changed the fabric of reality to create a type of alcohol that actually worked on speedsters, Barry has been dying to try it.

"Oh, god," Len drawls. "We've shacked up with an optimist."

"We're fucked," Mick agrees.

"You're both drama queens, that's what you are," Barry tells them.

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

Mick's amazed that the system works as well as it does. Both generally - the administrative body that really runs Doomworld is seriously insane - and interpersonally, with Barry.

Barry runs out every morning to go search for the Legends, which takes some doing - they don't know what city they're in, or if they're under a different name, and at any rate they don't know how to fix their brainwashing anyway - and comes back around noon for lunch and to spend a few hours sitting at their feet at the Throne of Darkness, which is apparently an entire gigantic hall in which the leaders of Doomworld listen to problems and rule on them like Hollywood's idea of fantasy universe monarchy.

Barry says he's much more okay with the whole thing now that there are pillows. He refuses to take the third throne, saying it's better to be underestimated and also it would keep him from leaning against their legs and getting his hair petted, all the physical contact his collar requires.

Mick suspects he just likes having his hair petted.

This suspicion is borne out by how often Barry just so happens to ‘accidentally’ cuddle himself around Len, who can be counted on to fold like a house of cards at the merest suggestion that Barry could use some more contact, even though he has clearly met his quota for the day.

Len provisionally gives the third throne to Lisa, who point-blank refuses to return from her Caribbean vacation to do paperwork.

Mick is unsurprised. Paperwork sucks, even when he has Barry to help speed-read it and Len to help make decisions. Not that Len can always help - there's so much to do, they've decided to split it.

The relief on the faces of the Doomworld bureaucrats is noticeable. Apparently the Terrible Trio had created the structure to rule the world and then promptly dicked around instead of actually ruling it, with a side order of prompt execution if someone pestered them too long about doing their fucking jobs.

It’s a lot of work, ruling the world.

Mick does get to put in place a few committees to take his rough ideas about the criminal justice and mental health system to flesh out into actual proposals. He’s kind of hoping to see what they come up with before they fix the world and go back to normal.

(Barry is sitting next to Mick and Mick’s got an arm slung over his shoulders, his fingers on the back of Barry’s neck, kneading the tense muscles there a little. Barry sighs with happiness. Mick suspects he’s being used for backrubs.)

Turns out someone ended up making Ray a janitor, of all things.

He’s still a mechanical genius, though, so he has a couple of ideas that could result in a mental ‘realignment’ for people who have been brainwashed. Unfortunately, like most ideas, it was still in the beta testing stages.

Mick’s all in favor of getting him to finish that as soon as possible, with the assistance of Felicity and everyone else who had an interest in technology assigned to prioritize that project.

Meeting Sara had just been…creepy.

She and her partner – Amaya Jiwe – had swanned in and flirted their asses off, but not in the way Sara normally flirted. More like bad Bond girl flirting.

Len dismissed them very quickly.

“I liked her,” Len said plaintively afterwards. “I don’t like this her.”

Barry puts a hand on his knee. “We’ll fix her.” He hesitates. “When you say you liked her…”

“I was considering if she’d like to join me and Mick for an ongoing threesome,” Len clarifies. “It didn’t work out, as it happens.”

Barry’s eyebrows go up.

So does the placement of his hand on Len’s thigh.

“We’re looking for a permanent third,” Mick says, watching with interest as Barry’s hand creeps up. “Someone who likes us both.”

“Both,” Barry says nodding. “Very important. Actually…”

“Whatever happened to Iris West?” Mick asks. Pointedly.

Barry’s shoulders droop. “Eddie Thawne is alive,” he says. “So that Eobard Thawne can be alive. Iris doesn’t even remember we dated.”

“She’ll remember once we fix the world,” Len says soothingly. He hasn’t noticed the hand, because he’s an oblivious idiot – all physical contact is the same to him: initially terrifying until he’s given himself permission to accept it, at which point he doesn’t really notice nuance. It’s amazing he’s as good at flirting as he is, given that he doesn’t notice when it’s happening to him.

“I don’t want Eddie to die again,” Barry objects. “He was – he is – a really good guy.”

“You thinking of shaking up with both of them?”

“Iris is a one-true-love sort of person,” Barry says with a sigh. “Even if she liked me, she’d liked Eddie first and…well. She got together with me because everyone seemed to expect us to, and she grew to love me more and more along the way, because she’s amazing like that. But if she had a chance with Eddie…well. Iris can be my anchor without being my girlfriend. Or wife.”

“Ouch,” Len says.

“Yeah,” Barry agrees. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“So you’re not a one true love sort of person,” Mick says. Also pointedly.

“No, not really,” Barry says. “I’m pretty open to, uh, new ideas.” He pets Len’s thigh again, looking hopefully at Mick like he’ll come closer.

“Red,” Mick says. “If you want to play ‘the evil overlords take advantage of their spoiled pet’, you could just ask.”

Barry blushes tomato-red. “Uh,” he says.

"We'd be into it," Mick adds.

Barry grins crookedly. “Well. I mean. In that case…”

“No one is having sex with anyone until that collar comes off,” Len says.

Barry’s shoulders droop. “Why not?” he whines.

Mick agrees. He’s pretty close to whining himself. “Lenny…”

“We don’t know if he’ll feel the same way after it’s off,” Len says, and his voice has a tone of finality. “It could have features we don’t know about.”

“I promise I never even once thought about Eobard that way,” Barry says, looking nauseous. “He was, like, my mentor.”

“Ask again after your collar is off and we’ll see.”

Barry pouts. “Fine,” he says, and starts pulling his hand away.

“You can still feel me up,” Len clarifies. “We’re just not doing anything else.”

Barry grins.

“So, Len,” Mick drawls. “Barry, huh? You thinking of him as a third?”

“For longer than I’m going to admit,” Len concedes cheerfully.

“Good,” Barry says.

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

Len is going to murder Cisco Ramon.

Well, he would, if he could goddamn locate the guy.

Mick has taken to feeding grapes to Barry while they’re on their throne. Barry has taken to lounging in increasingly suggestive positions.

Len is now beset by two people complaining about the lack of “evil villain despoils the intrepid hero” roleplaying going on.

And it’s not that he’s not interested – he is, far too much; he’s been trying to think of a good way to explain that supervillain vs. superhero fights are actually his terrible method of flirting to Barry for months prior to the trip with the Legends – it’s that he actually does have some morals in there. Somewhere.

He’s currently regretting that, but oh well.

Ray and Felicity can’t help with the collar, though they tried.

“It follows absolutely zero logic,” Felicity says, frustrated. “It’s like…”

“Someone just thought it up into existence?” Len asks.

“Yes! Exactly!”

Len sighs.

“We’re working very hard on the memory restoring device, though,” Ray says.

“Right,” Len says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s going to develop a headache, he just knows it. “And how is your vigilante boyfriend doing?”

“Vigilante boyfriend?” Felicity laughs nervously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I mean, vigilante boyfriend. Sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“Or a movie,” Ray adds.

“Or a movie based on a comic book!”

“Or an animated television show inspired by a movie which is based on a –”

“I know that Oliver Queen is hiding in the rafters as we speak,” Len interrupts. Yep, headache, right on time. “Also, both of you have your shirts on inside out. I don’t mind if you take off some time to canoodle with the vigilante boyfriend who – let me remind you – I have pardoned. Just don’t let it interfere with your work.”

“Don’t worry,” Felicity assures him. “It’s been very inspiring. I mean, moving. Uh. I mean…”

“Just…stop.”

Len goes and has his secretary call Cisco Ramon again.

Still no luck.

Murder.

Where the hell is this guy?

The sooner he gets Miracle Inventor Man in his grasp, the sooner he can stop ruling the world.

Well, the sooner he can sleep with his husband and their new pet (not the kink he would've expected Barry to have, but he's very pleased regardless) and then stop ruling the world.

Priorities.

Len hasn’t even had a chance to steal something in ages.

Maybe he should take up the offer from the guy over in Metropolis to let him take over some of the running-the-world business…running a gigantic corporation has to be better experience for running the world than high-end theft, right…?

That’s when Len gets ambushed.

By heroes.

“What the fuck even,” Len says flatly, his back against the wall, gun up and out and at ready.

It’s Ramon, of course, and Caitlin Snow (wearing some weird get-up and with white hair) and Kid Flash – what was his name again? – and Iris West and Joe West and Eddie Thawne and some guy who looks like Harrison Wells but god only knows what he goes by or what universe he’s from; Len’s stopped counting. They’re all pointing various types of tech at him, which given Ramon’s capabilities, Len isn’t going to question.

“You need to let Barry go,” Ramon says.

“Are you kidding me?” Len exclaims. “I’ve been calling you for three weeks trying to get you to help me do just that! Your secretary kept saying you were busy!”

The whole group looks taken aback.

“I know you’ve been trying to get me to come in,” Ramon says cautiously. “I thought you wanted to take me out.”

“If I wanted to take you out, I’d send the death squad I inherited from Darkh,” Len says. “I want you to come help me fix Barry’s collar.”

“We’re not helping you fix Barry’s collar!” Iris exclaims.

“To get him out of it,” Len says, aiming for slow and loud and very clear since he’s clearly dealing with idiots. “Thawne put him in it; I want him out. It’s creepy.”

“He sits at your throne –”

“He needs a certain amount of physical contact a day or the collar shocks him, and I need to look evil overlord enough to make this whole system not collapse,” Len says. “It’s mutually beneficial.”

“If you’ve taken advantage –” Joe starts.

“He’s the one who’s flirting, not me,” Len shoots back.

“He is not!”

“Can we just get his collar off?” Len demands. "Then we can defer to his opinions on the subject."

“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” Cisco demands.

Len grinds his teeth. “Because –” he starts.

He doesn’t get a chance to finish, because there’s a familiar flash of lightning and suddenly Barry is standing there, blinking at all of them.

"Uh, hi, guys," Barry says. "...why are you pointing guns at Snart?"

"He's keeping you as a pet!" Joe exclaims.

Barry blushes.

"Clearly that part isn't the issue," Iris says dryly.

"...no," Barry squeaks. "But, uh, this collar..."

"I'm on it, man," Cisco says. Then he glances at Len. "Uh. Sorry for missing your calls and assuming you were out to kill me."

Len waves his hand. Bygones, bygones... "Actually, can you also fix the device for the Legends' memories?" he asks. "I want to not rule the world anymore."

"Really?" Iris asks.

"It's mostly paperwork."

"Huh," she says. "I could do a story about that -"

"Iris!" Joe snaps.

"- but will definitely wait to do that until after we finish rescuing Barry," she hastily concludes.

Cisco goes into a huddle with Ray and Felicity.

The other would-be rescuers get served coffee. They seems somewhat bewildered.

After an hour or so of awkwardness, Len decides to recruit them to doing his paperwork.

Mick wanders in a little later, only to stop and stare.

"What?" Len asks.

"The boys told me you'd been ambushed by the resistance and that you'd instead recruited them into doing your paperwork," Mick says, starting to grin. "Hadn't realized they were being serious."

"You seriously need to improve medical care globally," Caitlin says, nose buried in a pile of papers.

"Congrats, you're now in charge of that committee."

"What? No. I'm evil now! My name is Killer Frost!"

"Perfect for an evil overlord's chief henchwoman of medicine," Len replies. "Not seeing the issue."

She opens her mouth.

"Or are you suggesting that a position of great power and influence isn't sufficiently evil?"

"I - guess?" she says. "I feel like there's a flaw in that logic..."

"Nah, not at all," Mick says. "You're overthinking it. Have you testing what goes colder, cold gun or ice powers yet?"

"We should do that," Len says.

"Not in here, please," the long-suffering chamberlain says.

Len is convinced he has the meta ability to appear whenever anyone mentions destruction of property.

What? It’s possible. This is Central City...

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

With Cisco's help, they get the collar off in three days.

Barry whoops and hugs him. "Thank you! You're a lifesaver, man!"

"The only thing I'm saving you from is your inability to get laid," Cisco replies, rolling his eyes, but he's grinning broadly. "Better yet, I fixed the brainwashing machine."

"Even better," Barry enthuses. "When..?"

"The Legends should be remembering their original timelines as we speak."

"That means Len will be in a great mood," Barry decides.

"TMI," Cisco immediately says. "So much TMI."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Still TMI!"

Barry sticks out his tongue and goes to run down Len and Mick.

Who do not look happy.

"What's the matter?" Barry asks.

"They don't know how to fix it," Len says. He's glaring.

"We have some ideas..?" the new guy - Nate? - says sheepishly.

"Do you even know where this so-called Spear of Destiny is?" Mick asks, not sounding impressed.

"Uh..."

Mick and Len make identical expressions that signify oncoming headaches and/or homicide.

"But they'll go look for it right now, right?" Barry says hastily. "No need to worry, Len; they'll figure it out. Won't take more than another month or two."

"Right," Sara says, eying the two world leaders-slash-supervillains like one might eye an unexploded bomb. "Sure, we'll get right on it."

"We need to make sure we keep some of the good aspects, after all," Barry says, going to Len and Mick and leading them away from the Legends. The Legends take the hint and scoot away at speed. Barry's sure Len and Mick will be happier to see them once the whole "we're still ruling the world" thing has faded a bit.

Mostly sure. They really hate the paperwork.

(If Barry ushers them out a little faster than he might've otherwise, he is in no way admitting that 'we were considering Sara for a threesome' has anything to do with it.)

"I guess," Mick grumbles. "Global warming."

"World peace," Barry points out.

Len sighs. "Another month or two?"

"I'm sure," Barry lies. "Besides! Good news: the collar is off."

Suddenly, Barry has their full attention.

He's not going to lie, he rather likes it.

"Guess another month or two won't be too bad," Mick rumbles, his voice suddenly lower and a whole lot sexier.

"I think we'll find a way to keep busy," Len purrs in agreement.

Barry gulps.

Oh yeah. This is what he's talking about.

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

(It takes more than two months.)

#dccoldwave #coldflashwave #mick rory #leonard snart #barry allen #my fic

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