#one half to rehabilitate him and one half to actually make him human again or something

[aj-lenoire]

i know it’s 2023 but i have a lot of Thoughts™ on demon!dean and since this is my corner of the internet and i can talk about whatever i goddamn like we’re gonna talk about how they squandered the deanmon potential—yes i know this was back in 2015 what’s your point misha had to come out as straight last year this train is never stopping

cause like, i remember all the promo spots being off the shits like ‘THIS…IS THE YEAR…OF THE DEANMON!!!!’

and i was psyched, and then it turned out to be like, 3 episodes. and he just sang terrible karaoke. the worst thing he did was try to grope a woman—which, obviously, is a shitty thing to do, but isn’t on the same level as like, torturing her to death

it just—it could’ve been so damn cool. imagine, like, castiel trying to reason with him, and since angels see demons as they truly are, not who they’re wearing (also: was deanmon possessing his own corpse? could he have possessed another human? i haven’t rewatched since it aired but like… did they ever clarify that??) he can see like this mutilated thing that he knows is his friend, but it’s almost beyond recognition

and deanmon is basically a soulless human, functionally, because he doesn’t care about anything or anyone except himself and what he wants, and these two guys with their ‘i know you’re in there somewhere’ and ‘this isn’t the real you’ crap are really getting on his nerves, so he’s coming out with stuff like how, it was forty years in hell, therefore alistair knew him longer than sam or cas, alistair made him into what he is now, and he’s so grateful bc he’s no longer snivelling over every insignificant dead human they come across. humans are so pathetically fragile after all, why bother trying to save them?

just IMAGINE the potential—the futility of cas raising him from perdition! because this was always who he was meant to become, what he was going to be, and cas was just delaying the inevitable—because dean’s whole life has been authority figures forging him into their weapon. all cas was trying to do was swap out one blacksmith for another

and yeah i know they needed to wrap up the deanmon thing sharpish because of the 300th episode but like… they could’ve made 300 a flashback. like a fun-ish job the boys did years prior, and at the end of the episode sam suddenly wakes up because he was dreaming of that hunt and in remembering it he’s had a ~breakthrough~ on how to help dean—and THAT’S how he knows where to look and finds out about the blood injection nonsense

(i still cannot believe it was THAT SIMPLE to cure someone of being a demon. and that dean was also allegedly a knight of hell or some bullshit)

like we could’ve had a solid half-a-season of deanmon, we get to see the full range of what he was actually capable of. he still blows off crowley, obviously, because he doesn’t need to be babysat, he doesn’t need someone to line up a murder-y demon deal for him like he’s on an enrichment program at the zoo

sam hasn’t seen him in several episodes, he’s still trying to figure out how to get dean back, if he can get dean back, and he’s doing hunts in between because he feels morally obligated to, or he needs money, or he’s doing it for someone in return for info on the dean thing—whatever

dean rocks up to where sam’s working on a job, and at first you just think he’s there to piss sam off and generally fuck around, and sam just can’t look at him and can’t be near him cause it’s so obviously not his brother and he doesn’t want to risk dean realising he’s searching for a fix, because he genuinely, deeply fears that this thing with his brother’s face will try to kill him.

but dean’s going around telling everyone that sam’s his brother and forcing sam to play nice because they’re in front of people, and dean makes very clear what will happen if sam doesn’t play nice and doesn’t let dean do as he likes—and sam’s just disgusted and uneasy

and once sam finishes the job—having bonded slightly with whoever was being attacked—he tells dean to leave him the hell alone, and leaves the town. and dean stays behind, seemingly honouring his brother’s wishes—is there hope?

but that night‚ dean goes to the house of whoever sam helped on the hunt. maybe it’s a cute suburban family‚ maybe it’s a college girl whose friend was killed, but he knocks on the door and says he’s dean and he’s sam’s brother and they’re estranged and he doesn’t know where sam went—could she help him? so she invites him in‚ because sam is the kind guy who just saved her life, and his brother is just as charming and handsome and seems like a nice dude, and the last thing we see is dean (from behind) as he enters‚ and he’s holding the first blade behind his back and the door just slowly swings shut. cut to black.

and later—maybe not next episode‚ maybe the viewers are left to stew for a bit—dean calls sam and tells him what he did. that the people sam risked his life to save are dead. sam ended up not making a difference at all. and the most fucked up part is that he sounds exactly like regular dean as he says all this—using the same slang and chirpy tone like he’s talking about music. and in that same cheerful tone, he warns sam not to try ordering him around ever again.

dean enjoyed being a hunter, he enjoyed the heroism and simplicity of killing bad guys and saving good guys. now, with the first blade making him crave blood? without that pesky conscience? he doesn’t much care about good or bad anymore. he cares that this guy still sees him as his poor, tragic brother, and is still trying to save him, so killing the people that this guy just saved? it’s fun. it’s funny. this guy is annoying him with this ‘i know you’re in there’ talk but this is him, and he likes it, and he likes watching sam fret over fragile, insignificant humans because sam is just as pathetic

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

"Murder is Werewolves" - Batman

I don't got the SPOONS to do this thought train justice, I have seriously been trying to write this thing for MONTHS so just, idk, have this half baked skeletal outline of the essay I guess:

I don't believe that Batman's no-kill rule is primarily about rehabilitation or second chances.

His refusal to believe that Cassandra could have killed someone when she was eight years old because "how could a killer understand my commitment not to kill" is absolute fucking MOON LOGIC from a rehabilitationist standpoint. No jury on the planet would think for even a second that she could reasonably be held accountable for her actions in that situation! Her past cannot condemn her to being incapable of valuing human life under a rehabilitation centering framework. However, Batman's reasoning makes perfect sense if he believes that killing is a spiritually/morally corrupting act which permanently and fundamentally changes a person, and that corruption can never be fully undone.

Dick Grayson killing the Joker is treated both narratively and by Batman as an unequivocally WIN for the Joker. The Joker won by turning Nightwing into a killer. Note that this is during a comic in which the Joker transforming people was a major theme! Batman didn't revive the Joker because the Joker deserved to live; he revived the Joker to lift the burden on Dick.

His appeal to Stephanie when she tried to kill her dad is that she shouldn't ruin her own life. He gives no defense of Cluemaster's actual life. Granted this is a rhetorical strategy moment and should be taken with a generous pinch of salt, but it fits in the pattern.

When Jason becomes a willful killer, he essentially disowns him, never treats him with full trust ever again, and... Well, we can stop here for Bruce's sake. Bottom line is that his actions towards Jason do not lead me to believe that he thinks Jason can become a better person without having his autonomy taken from him, either partially or fully.

The Joker is, for better or worse, the ultimate symbol and vessel of pure, irredeemable evil in DC comics now. He hasn't been just another crook in a long time. He will never get better, he will only get worse. If you take it to be true that the Joker will not or can not rehabilitate, then there's no rehabilitationist argument against killing him.

Batman does not seem to consider it a possibly that he'll rehabilitate. Batman at several points seems to think that the Joker dying in a manner no one could have prevented would be good. Yet Batman fully believes that if he killed the Joker, he himself would become irredeemable.

Batman's own form of justice (putting people into the hospital and then prison) is fucking brutal and clearly not rehabilitative. He disrespects the most basic human rights of all criminals on a regular basis. It is genuinely really, really weird from a rehabilitationist standpoint that his only uncrossable line is killing... But it makes perfect sense if he cares more about not corrupting himself with the act of killing than the actual ethical results of any individual decision to kill or not kill.

In the real world cops are all bastards because they are too violent to criminals, even when that violence doesn't lead to death. Prison is a wildly evil thing to do to another human being, and you don't use it to steal away massive portions of a person's life if your goal is to rehabilitate them. In the comic world, Batman is said to be necessary because the corrupt cops are too nice to criminals and keep letting them out of jail. I don't know how to write a connector sentence there so like I hope you can see why this bothers me so damn much! That's just not forgiveness vibes there Batman!!

I want to make special note here of the transformative aspect. You don't simply commit a single act when you kill, no, you become a killer, like you might become a werewolf.

The narrative supports this a lot!

Why did Supes go evil during Injustice? He killed the Joker. Why did Bruce become the Batman Who Laughs? Bruce killed the Joker. Why was Jason Todd close to becoming a new Joker during Three Jokers? Because he killed people, to include the Joker.

Even if these notions of redemption being impossible aren't the whole of his reasoning (people never have only one reason for doing what they do) it is a distinct through-line pattern in his actions and reasoning, and it is directly at odds with notions of rehabilitation, redemption, and second chances.

So why does he give so many killers second chances?

Firstly because this doesn't apply to all versions of Batman. Some writers explicitly incorporate rehabilitation and forgiveness into his actions. You will be able to provide me with examples of this other through-line pattern if you go looking for them. The nature of comics is to be inconsistent.

Secondly the existence of that other pattern does not negate the existence of this one. People and characters are complex, and perfectly capable of holding two patterns of belief within themselves, even when they conflict to this degree. You can absolutely synthesize these two ideas into a single messy Batman philosophical vibescape.

Finally and most importantly to this essay: he has mercy on killers the same way that werewolf hunters sometimes have mercy on someone who is clearly struggling against their monsterous nature, especially if they were turned in exceptional circumstances or against their will. They understand that they are sick, damned beasts, cursed to always be fighting against themselves and the evil they harbor within. It is vitally kind to help them fight themselves by curtailing their autonomy in helpful ways and providing them with chances to do some good to make up for their eternal moral deficiency.

I think in many comics Batman views killers as lost souls. Battered and tormented monsters who must be pitied and given mercy wherever possible. (The connections to mental health, addiction, and rampant, horrifying ableism towards people struggling with both is unavoidable, but addressing it is sadly outside of the scope of this essay.)

Above all, the greatest care possible must be taken to never, ever let yourself become one of them, because once you have transformed the beast will forever be within you growing stronger.

To Batman, it is the most noble burden, the highest mercy, the most important commandment: Thou shalt suffer the monsters to live.

[scary-lasagna]

Hello, I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if it was okay if to request LJ, Bloody Painter, and Hoodie (separately) with a siren reader? Reader, in her human form, is slightly stronger, durable, and faster. However, in their siren form (which happens when they get submerged underwater) they have the typical powers of a siren, but they also have limit consciousness. What I mean by that is that they are a lot more feral in this form, and doesn’t really recognize anyone in that form, but like, around their partners, they’d sort of feel familiar to them, so reader in their siren form won’t attack them or anything. Hope this makes sense!

In my AU sirens can also transform into bird-like creatures! They have power over the sea and the air :] I decided to implement that as well.

Laughing Jack

Jack, as you know, runs an old, worn-down circus.

There are no more acts of beasts, or rare animals from the human realm, but more so of a retirement place for the creatures.

He basically bought you off of the black market, watching the algae float around the the cramped tank they kept you in.

There was no way he'd be able to sleep at night, knowing he could prevent another lonely night for you.

You got a lovely spot next to Snowflake, his prized albino Tiger, which Jack thought was so funny, because of the cat and fish dynamic.

But after research and asking around after taking care of you for a month, he concluded to take you out of the water.

He enjoyed that month of bonding and feeding you, and even reading you stories whenever you seemed bored with any enrichment toys and food he gave you. He wondered if you would even remember him.

But you did, and you thanked him profusely for rescuing you, even if he had no idea how much it cost or energy it took to rehabilitate a siren-like yourself.

And Jack was always willing to learn whatever you told him, even bringing up stories from your culture about how the sea will reach toward the moon in an attempt to reach its lover that flew too high.

And it took am embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that Jack's feathers were fake, simply a silly decoration he enjoyed.

But over time, you two grew close, and now you have a rather large tank full of a small reef and a complete array of fish to keep you happy whenever you decide to dip your toes.

Helen

Oh, Helen is just head over heels for you.

He thinks you're the most beautiful muse he's ever come across, and every time you step foot in the water you two fall in love all over again.

You actually almost killed him the first time you met. Both of you thought you were alone, and quickly realized the presence of the other.

He managed to squeeze you into his painting of the sunset, but before leaving, he gathered seashells into the tide.

You almost bit his arm off, and ended up getting a face full of oil paint. It tasted lovely, as you can imagine, (it tasted like you gulped down an oil spill).

As while busy gagging and attempting to wash your mouth out, and drink the sea water, which would make even the best of sirens sea-sick, Helen took charge and dragged you out of the water to help you.

And you hit it off since, and many of his paints of you have gained quite the popularity.

Brian

Not gonna lie, he thinks you are pretty terrifying.

The first time you went to the beach, Brian expected something like Ariel, or even the mermaids from Pirates of the Caribbean.

He was not expecting your true form in the slightest.

Your jaw unhinged and ripped your cheeks clean in half to reveal not one, but multiple rows of sharp teeth.

And he's seen many things and creatures in his career as a proxy, but a siren had not been one of them. Slender had mentioned staying away from them, especially as humans, you can be lured whenever they decide to be bored of you, and then drag you to the sea floor.

Or maybe they'll grab you up in their talons leading to sculpted human legs and drop you in a vat of bubbling acid.

Whatever the case was, it seemed as if it went into one ear and out with other with Brian, because he fell in love.

But damn, in the water you were hella creepy. And of course, you thought it was a game to scare this familiar stranger shitless since he seemed so keen on staying around you.

He managed to lure you out from the water with a little jar of "siren-bait" from one of the seaside shops. It didn't work as expected, but you really just wanted to see if it contained any edible food.

But he liked pruning your wings and picking off the casing of new feathers whenever they came in, and if he wasn't feeling too tired, he would give you a small massage to your shoulders after holding up your wings for so long.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 6 - Bakugou is bad at feelings.

Summary: Katsuki calls a “Bakusquad SOS meeting” after freaking out about Y/N’s constant moping. The Menace gets ready for her rehabilitation week but shit goes sideways.

Well… at least she’s not alone.

Warnings: Swear words, descriptions of not being able to move, Bakusquad asks some questions about sex.

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Bakugou, why are we here.” Mina sighs as she tries to find a comfortable position. “And why do we need to do this in your meeting room?! What is this, even?!”

“You said I can always count on the stupid Bakusquad when I’m in need. I am in fucking need you pink idiot.”

Bakugou… assembled a meeting. By himself. With the Bakusquad. I know, it’s a shocker; but he is fucking desperate.

It has been a few days since the whole making out shenanigan and Katsuki can’t even look into the Menace’s eyes properly. He’s not avoiding his girlfriend per se; he says hello and goodbye, he brings her lunch and smiles when she eats it; but he might have a little issue with the whole intimacy thing… it’s just a bit much right now, okay?

He can make up for the lack of intimacy with other kind of things like acts of service or gifts or words of affirmation, at least that’s what his therapist told him.

Well…

His therapist is full of shit, because that was apparently the wrong thing to do because the Menace is fucking depressed now.

“You haven’t messaged us for months, Bakubro.” Sero adds helpfully. Well, no shit.

“Yet here you fucking are, Tape face.” Katsuki retorts. “If you don’t want to be here, there’s the fucking door.” Katsuki yells and… fuck, he can’t do this. “You know what? Meeting dismissed. See you all at your fucking funerals.”

“Hey, hey, let’s calm down for a minute, okay there, bro?” Kirishima stands up and comes around the table to give Katsuki’s shoulders a few calming taps. “We are all here for you, Katsuki, my man. The squad just misses you. It’s a normal thing to feel sad when your favorite bro cancels on you three months in a row.”

“Why the fuck are relationships so fucking complicated!” Katsuki slams his smoking fists on the table.

“Okay bro, talk to us. It’s fine. You are fine. We are all fine. Sorry for interrupting.” Mina sighs.

This is not going well.

“Sorry we’re late!” Deku and Half and half bastard barges in through the door, panting heavily.

“Hey.” Halfie mumbles. Katsuki rolls his eyes.

Why did he call the two to this meeting? Well, definitely not for advice; those two are the stupidest when it comes to relationships, but since Katsuki’s terrible quirk accident, he’s been trying to be a bit kinder to those two. When he was quirked by this villain called Anguish he’s been told off by baby Deku for all the terrible things he’s done to him and well… he feels terrible about it. So here they are. Yeah.

“My fucking girlfriend is depressed. I need some advice. Tell me what to do or whatever.” Katsuki sits down, defeated.

Half of the gang screams and there are so many questions flying around Katsuki can’t even comprehend a single one of them.

“Guys, let’s calm down and ask questions one by one.” Kirishima speaks up and fuck, Katsuki is so fucking thankful for his best friend right now. “Sero, you start.”

“You have a girlfriend?! Like an actual human being with feelings and stuff?”

“No, I’m dating a fucking blow up doll, Tape Face, honestly.”

“Is she fucked up in the head or something?” Mina mutters; Katsuki makes sure she won’t ask stupid questions again by sending an explosion to her face.

“That was really mean, Mina. I think I know who Kacchan’s girlfriend is and she’s an amazing person and Kacchan loves her very much. Kacchan almost lost his mind when she was gone due to a quirk for a day. She also jumped in front of Kacchan to save him that day.” Izuku reprimands.

“Actually, it’s not her.” Katsuki says with a shit eating smirk. Izuku pales completely.

“I… I’m so sorry Kacchan, I shouldn’t have made assumptions, I just… you two would be a really nice couple and you both care about each other and…” He starts to mumble, ashamed of himself and Katsuki can’t help but laugh at that.

“I’m just joking, Izuku, calm your tits. Of course it’s her.”

“Kacchan called me Izuku and joked with me.” He pales again, dumbfounded. “Oh my god… Kacchan!” Izuku jumps up from the chair, crying a river on the way to Katsuki’s seat. He jumps into Katsuki’s lap, his arms snaking around his shoulders as he cries.

“Jesus, nerd.” Katsuki sighs; he really wants to choke his past self for being an absolute ass to this annoying little prick. He can feel his fucking love overflowing after repressing it for so long. He can also smell smoke coming from Todoroki’s direction. “Go back to your seat before your boyfriend burns me alive.” Katsuki whispers into the green nerd’s ear who moves back to his seat begrudgingly; Todoroki is half frozen and half burning by the time he gets back.

“So everyone fucking knows about this girl but me, great.” Mina sighs, offended.

“Well, you literally just questioned his girlfriend’s mental well-being for dating him, I don’t think you have any rights to be offended.” For Katsuki’s surprise, it was Todoroki who called her out. How did he not realize how good his friends are? Katsuki wants to cry.

“Fair.”

“So Kacchan… uhm… what do you guys do in your free time?” Izuku asks first.

“Our free time? We see each other all day, she’s my assistant, you fucking know that.” Katsuki retorts, confused.

“Like, where do you go on dates? How often?” Kaminari tries to help.

“Dates? We don’t… date? We went to see the old hag the other day, does that count?”

There is a tiny “aww” coming from Mina. Okay, that’s good.

“Oh, so you guys just go to your place and hang out after work?” Sero jumps in.

“We are together the whole day so we don’t do any of that?”

The whole gang goes silent. Like, dead silent. Okay, what the fuck?

“So you guys do all the romance stuff in your office?! That’s nasty!” Mina makes a disgusted face.

“Fuck no, we… don’t do that kind of stuff in the office. No. Well, there was that one time we almost did but that was an accident.” Katsuki mutters, embarrassed. He feels like he’s missing something here.

“Wait…” Kaminari speaks up again. “So how often do you kiss her? And sorry to be so straightforward but… how often do you guys have sex?” The whole gang nods approvingly at that. What the…?!

“I kissed her a few days ago? We don’t do sex… yet. We hug… sometimes. I bring her coffee every day.” Katsuki says the last sentence proudly. The whole gang gawks, even Eijirou.

“Katsuki, what the hell, man?! You see Y/N every single day and you don’t even kiss her goodbye?” Eijirou shoves him angrily. Katsuki has no idea what he’s done wrong.

“Are you sure you like her that way, Katsuki?” Sero asks with actually worry in his eyes.

“What the fuck, yes, I fucking do. I fucking LOVE her ass! I wouldn’t be dating her otherwise! Am I really that fucking bad at this?!” Katsuki yells and his words are met with silence.

“Bro, she really fucking loves you if she haven’t broken up with you yet. This is really bad. Like, super-duper bad. I once forgot to give Kyouka a good night kiss and I had to sleep on the sofa then she broke up with me the next day.” Kaminari retorts, his voice deep and quiet like he’s telling a horror story.

“Okay that’s a bit dramatic, but yes Katsuki, you need to change your behavior really soon.” Mina reprimands.

“Ladies need love and affection, Katsuki. You need to cherish them, show them your vulnerable side, be open for anything any time. Even when you are busy, make sure to smile at her.” Sero adds helpfully.

“Hello kisses and goodbye kisses are really important as well, Kacchan. Otherwise, just touch them when you feel like you want to. And always reciprocate her touches. Always.“

“Yes, otherwise she’ll think you don’t like her anymore. And she will cry. There’ll be so many tears, Katsuki, so many… it never stops. It’s terrible.” Shouto adds with a shaky voice. Izuku grabs Shouto’s hands on the table in a soothing manner.

“I think that’s just me, Shouto. Y/N wouldn’t cry so much. She would probably just mope around and cry at home where no one sees.” Izuku says and that’s when it hits Katsuki; he really-really fucked this up.

“She’s moping around so much and I swear her eyes were red the other day. Fuck I need to fix this… oh my god, how do I fix this?!” Katsuki yells, panicked. No, his hands are not shaking, his muscles are just… spasming. Shut the fuck up.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Mina gives him a knowing smile, her eyes fond and happy.

“She’s the most badass woman I’ve ever met. She’s so annoyingly perfect, it blows my mind every fucking time. She can even kick my ass in a fight, like what the fuck? I feel all the shitty butterflies and all that jazz. It’s ridiculous. Fuck, I miss her so fucking much when she’s not in.” Katsuki whines. Then Kirishima’s phone makes an annoying sound; it sounds like he sent a message to someone.

“… aaaand, that’s sorted. I recorded your beautiful speech and sent it to her. Now everyone run before Katsuki explodes. Thanks for coming, let’s go for drinks next week, bye!” Kirishima is out of the door before Katsuki has time to comprehend what just happened.

Kirishima will need to call the maintenance again. Some of the windows magically exploded.

~•💥•~

You wake up to a message from Kirishima on this lovely Sunday morning; hero agencies don’t have the weekends off so you are just about to get ready and go in anyway so you are not sure what the message is about; maybe it’s because you had a few days off to get ready for the dreadful week ahead of you? Will he not be in when you arrive and wanted to give you a heads up?

Ahh, you should probably just check it instead of making up stories, but it’s too early for you to give a fuck.

After your first cup of coffee you finally check your phone; you click on the video and there he is, your beautiful boy with a not-so-beautiful frown on his face. Ahh, you miss him.

“She’s the most badass woman I’ve ever met. She’s so annoyingly perfect, it blows my mind every fucking time. She can even kick my ass in a fight, like what the fuck? I feel all the shitty butterflies and all that jazz. It’s ridiculous. Fuck, I miss her so fucking much when she’s not in.”

Okay, that’s not what you expected. Is it edited? It must be. There is no way the big Bakugou Katsuki aka Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight said any of those in front of other people. But wait, these people around him… are these his old friends?! What are they doing in your meeting room? Oh my god, is this the end of world? Another world war?!

Should you cry over the nice words or is this the time to put on your best clothes, so you can die pretty? Does it even matter if it’s the end of the world though? Will anyone find you? Probably not.

With that said, you take out your new favorite hoodie; well, technically it’s Katsuki’s but there no way you’ll give it back, it smells just like him after all. Apparently, the burnt sugar smell stays in his clothing even after washing if he’s used it for long enough. You can’t wait to get your hands on more clothing, you swear his scent is better than the fanciest perfume. You quickly finish your breakfast and make your way to the office; you are only supposed to start around 12 as you finished all your paperwork yesterday so honestly, the only reason your go in is to do your hours and be with your favorite blonde. Mostly… to see your favorite blonde. It’s not like you can see him anywhere else, can you? There is no fucking way you’ll ask him on a date, he would probably scream your head off for being an idiot, even though you are already heartbroken for not being able to see him for a whole week until your medical situation gets sorted. Maybe you should have told him about it… ahh, it’s too late now anyway, the big day is tomorrow and it would be way too sudden for him. Katsuki doesn’t like sudden things.

It will be fine. It will all be fucking fine.

You really need to stop freaking out…

“Good… afternoon? Morning? The fuck is the time? Ahh, it’s noon. Good… noon to you, girlfriend.” Katsuki mumbles as you come through the office door. Okay, something is definitely wrong.

“Are you… quirked or something?” You ask carefully, staring at your blonde companion as he slowly comes closer and closer.

“The fuck are you talking about?!” Katsuki yells. Okay, that’s more like it. “Can I not be… nice to my girlfriend?”

“No, you certainly can. Yeah. It will make me wanna kiss you though.” You grin at him but for your surprise, he doesn’t roll your eyes at you this time.

“Okay.” He murmurs as he stops right in front of you; in one swift move he grabs your hair and pulls you into the hottest kiss the world has ever seen; he tugs, he pulls, he grabs, he nips; you can’t help but whimper into his mouth and he answers with a low grumble as his tongue darts over your lips and barges into your mouth without a warning. Suddenly, he jerks away; you have a strong urge to grab the man and throw him on the sofa and but you decide against it; you don’t want to get into another awkward situation with Kirishima.

“Okay, that’s it for now.” Katsuki mumbles between two pants; he says that and he does indeed starts to walk back to his office desk but he stops midway and runs back to give you another peck. “Now I’m done.” Katsuki says with a red face, looking around the office like he wasn’t the one decorating it.

“Uhm… I got a video from Kirishima. I miss you too when you’re not in. A lot, actually.” You mumble shyly.

“You off from tomorrow?” Katsuki mumbles under his nose.

“For a week, yeah.”

“You know where I live.” Katsuki retorts and you look at him with a confused face. “Come over… when you miss me. Or not. Whatever. I don’t care. No, I do. Care, I mean. Ahh, fuck.” Katsuki continues mumbling then he shuts himself up by coming over for another cheeky kiss. “Fuck, how am I supposed to work like this?!”

Okay, something is not right. Something is definitely not right.

“Like what?” Your voice is full of worry. “Katsuki, what’s going on? You are scaring me! Like, it’s really nice, but it’s not how you usually behave?” You really don’t want to make him mad or make him feel like being so open about his feelings is a bad thing, but at the same time, you don’t want him to force himself to do this for you.

“You were so gloomy the last few days! Then you asked for a week off…” Katsuki rambles. “I still don’t know what I’ve done wrong so I asked the guys and they said I should be happy you didn’t dump me yet… I asked what the fuck should I do then and they said I should just hug you and kiss you whenever I feel like it, so I thought I’ll give it a fucking try but I want to kiss you and hug you every single minute, like what the fuck?! Since when am I the clingy asshole?!” Katsuki yells, ashamed of himself.

That’s it. You love him… So fucking much, it’s actually ridiculous.

“You are so silly, oh my god. I won’t dump you and I’m not mad at you for anything. I had a stressful appointment with my doctor so I was a bit out of it this week. And for your information, I also want to kiss you and hug you every single moment.” You smile at the hero.

“So this is just normal, basic ass lovey-dovey shit?” Katsuki asks with a face of a 5 year old boy who asked about sex for the first time.

“Yeah, just normal, basic ass lovely-dovey shit.” You giggle.

“I still don’t understand, but okay.” Katsuki murmurs, but finally, he manages to smile. “Now don’t look at me and do your work. I need to finish this assignment. Then I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you.” He pouts and you literally need to hide your mouth to stop yourself from making a high pitched, annoying noise. Since when is Katsuki so cute?! Oh my god, he is absolutely fucking adorable! Look at his little pout and the cute red cheeks and nose and oh my god, even the top of his ears are red?!

“I absolutely fucking adore you, Bakugou Katsuki.” You whisper under your nose.

“What?”

“Nothing. Finish your assignment.”

Damn, you really don’t want to be away from this madman for a whole week. Fuck, you want to stay with him so much.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Menace.”

~•💥•~

It’s the big day today. The day you don’t take your meds in the evening.

Needless to say, you are absolutely freaking out right now; you really want to have someone with you, someone who can hold your hands and tell you to stop being so terrified, but your bestie is out of the country and Katsuki… well, you definitely don’t want your boyfriend of a few weeks to see you like this. Whatever happens when the meds run out is not going to be nice.

The day goes by quite quickly; you do your weekly shopping for food because you probably won’t be able to get out of the house for a whole week, you put water and snacks all over the place in case shit goes terribly wrong and you can’t make it to the kitchen; you are absolutely ready for everything and now all you need to do is to wait it out. You still have a few hours to spare before the inevitable though so you decide to send Katsuki a message about something totally random, because you miss his grumpy ass. It only takes the blonde a second to actually read the message and another few more moments to call you instead of texting back.

“Move your fucking ass over to my place. Now.”

Katsuki yells into the phone and the line goes dead.

Well. This is not how you thought your first day being on holiday will go. Okay, calling it a holiday is a bit of a stretch, it’s more like a secret sick leave disguised as a holiday, but still.

You have no idea what to do right now. In a few hours you’ll miss your usual dose and things will probably go to shit the next day. You are quite sure nothing’s going to happen right away so technically, going to see Katsuki today is probably a good idea as you won’t be able to get out of the house for the rest of the week, but it does frighten you a little bit to leave the house in such a vulnerable state.

You do want to see Katsuki though and this is the first time he’s asked you over to his flat, so there is no way in hell you will decline his invitation.

That’s sorted then.

You put on a hoodie and some proper looking trousers and you are out of the door before you have time to think about all the stress that comes with skipping your medication.

~•💥•~

“What took you so fucking long.” Katsuki grumbles by the entrance of his fancy ass flat.

“Sorry?” You mumble but Katsuki cuts you off; his arms snake around your shoulders and hugs you protectively, mumbling profanities into your ear about hating everything and everyone.

You’ve never thought you will live for long enough to hear Katsuki whine about life while acting like a lovesick puppy. You fucking love it.

“Shitty day?” You whisper into your boyfriend’s ear, who only answers you by pulling you closer. “It’s okay now, I’m here to make your day even worse.” You giggle into his hair while you embrace the moping hero. Coming here was the best decision.

“Rookie mistake.” Katsuki finally grins and you can’t help but laugh while you push him away playfully. “Come on now, I wanna cuddle and shit.”

“Wow, you amaze me every day, Kats.” You giggle as you make your way towards his expensive looking sofa to plop down right away. “So what happened at work?” You ask, worried.

“It was boring as fuck. Paperwork. You weren’t there.” The blonde mumbles as he sits down next you; he doesn’t wait a single second before he pulls you close a little bit aggressively, but this is Katsuki, so you don’t take any offense. He also just told you he missed you, so needless to say you are in seventh heaven.

“What will you do without me for the whole week?” You ask quietly as your hand wanders on the blonde’s stomach.

“You will come over every day.” The blonde grumbles back and your stomach drops; you should have told him about your medical condition sooner. Fuck.

“Kats, I won’t be able to come over after tomorrow…” You mumble into your boyfriend’s chest. “The doctor wants me to stop taking my medication and I might not be able to move properly for the next few days…”

“What the fuck?” Katsuki pushes you away, angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?! Are you fucking kidding me?” He yells, and honestly, he is so fucking right. That was a really shitty move.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that, fuck!” You yell back, heartbroken. “It was stupid and selfish, I know that, but…”

“But what? Fucking what, you Menace?! I’m your fucking boyfriend!” Katsuki doesn’t stop yelling, and while you know you should probably tell him to stop, you can’t. “I’m supposed to be there for you! Take care of your weak fucking ass! That’s what I fucking signed up for! Am I not good enough for you or what the fuck?!”

“Kats, please stop yelling, I’m sorry. I just told you, didn’t I?!” Katsuki ignores you completely.

“When will you stop taking the meds?” He asks, only half-yelling this time.

“Today? I didn’t bring them with me. So…”

Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say because Katsuki jumps off the sofa and starts pacing anxiously.”

“So you came over and then wanted to go home while off your meds, ALONE, in the middle of the fucking night?!” He yells again, and now that he said that out loud, it really sounds extremely stupid.

“I wanted to get a taxi…”

“You wanted to sit into a strangers car, when there is a possibility for you to not be able to make it to your fucking flat on your fucking legs?!”

Oh man. Oh man, you fucked up.

“It won’t kick in that quickly…”

“You don’t know that!!!” Katsuki retorts with a red face.

“You are right. I’m a fucking idiot. And I fucked up your already shitty day even more, so… I think I’m gonna go.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it, princess.” Katsuki spits through his teeth, completely mental. In only a few steps, he makes his way to his door and locks it with a code. Your whole body tenses for a few seconds, then some weird tingles go down your spine but it doesn’t make any sense because you still feel safe with him even if he closed the only exit for you, you shouldn’t feel so… frozen just because he’s trying to help you… unless…

“Kats…”

“Don’t talk to me right now.”

“Something’s wrong.” You mumble with teary eyes. Your whole body feels like it’s falling, but you are still sitting safely on the sofa. You try to move your arms and they do work, but the motion slow, like a sloth trying to reach the nearest branch. You try to take the remote in your hands but it falls back on the cushion when you try to lift it. Katsuki stares at you with eyes the size of saucers, absolutely terrified.

“Y/N?” Katsuki whispers right before he starts sprinting back to you.

Well, shit.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Wow, it’s happening! I’ve been sitting on this idea for ages and I couldn’t wait to write it down! I love how overprotective Katsuki is and oh my god, you guys will fall in love with him all over again when you see his reaction to the whole situation.

- Btw I absolutely love Izuku’s reactions to Kacchan’s (almost) nice words, I definitely need them to interact more in the future! Also, can we talk about jealous Shouto? Because I’m kinda low key in love with his possessiveness.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! Send me your thoughts, they always motivate me to write quicker! 💥

TL (just send a comment if you wanna be added!):

@sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Something I find fascinating about the finale is that c!Dream is utterly wrong. I don’t mean that in a moral sense (that’s obvious enough he’s talking about what’s essentially mass human experimentation on unwilling participants), I mean that in he’s factually incorrect. When he tries to blame c!Tommy for things, it’s either things he had partial and often even not a central role in (both he and c!Sapnap attacked him and stole his stuff, while c!Wilbur was the one to found L’Manberg) or things he didn’t do (the time Ponk’s tree burnt that he’s specifically referencing? c!Sapnap did that one. c!Tommy has done it too, I believe, but so has half the server, and the specific incident that sparked conflict involved c!Sapnap).

Because, the thing is, it didn’t matter what c!Tommy did. His purpose is the scapegoat. A reason that c!Dream can use to desperately deny fault for his own loneliness, his own misery. He can justify his paranoia leading him to hurting and pushing away everyone who was once close to him, being the one who prevents him from reaching his own happiness. He can find a way to excuse even the worst, cruellest actions as teaching a lesson, as protecting others, as protecting himself. What c!Tommy ever actually did in those scenarios is irrelevant, because c!Dream isn’t blaming him for any rational reason. He’s blaming him so he can avoid blaming himself.

And, the thing is, it’s not even because he hates c!Tommy. Quite the opposite, really. We’ve seen how he treats people he hates, and it’s remarkably different to how he is with c!Tommy. Because c!Tommy and c!Dream used to be friends, after all. Close ones, too, close enough that c!Dream would give him valuables without question in Pogtopia, and a note to try and convince him that he’s not that bad. Close enough that c!Dream’s betrayal hurt c!Tommy deeply- after all, he looked up to him.

No, he goes after c!Tommy for the same reason he does everything- a desperate, twisted desire to not be alone. When his friendships deteriorated in front of his eyes, that’s when he conditioned and abused c!Tommy into complete and utter dependence, into a fucked up form of friendship more like ownership, and I don’t think this is a coincidence at all. What c!Dream wanted was to never, ever be alone again, and if he felt like any sort of reasonable methods had failed, he’d make his own friend. One that couldn’t leave him. One that’d be too afraid to try. c!Tommy would have never betrayed him, he’d have never went against any of c!Dream’s plans.

He’d understand him.

After all, to c!Dream, the reason he keeps others at arms length isn’t out of hatred or indifference. It’s out of love and out of fear. He’s paranoid to show weakness, and paranoid to have any. Any friend is someone who can stab him in the back, and someone who can be used against him. And what was Exile if not showing c!Tommy how easily that could happen to him too? The isolation wasn’t simply to make him easier to control- it was the point. In a fucked up way, maybe c!Dream even saw it as kindness.

And then c!Tommy left anyway. Despite everything, he’d been left by another friend, one he had what could possibly be called a twisted sense of trust in. And of course, since c!Tommy is the scapegoat, it’s all his fault. Nothing c!Dream did in Exile could be that bad, right? It was just punishment, it was just rehabilitation. The rush of having that power is incidental. The alleviation of that hole in his heart must be something else, something unrelated.

I think it’s significant that after this, c!Dream played the revival card so heavily towards c!Tommy. It was both something he knew he’d fear, something he knew would torment him which he felt like he deserved, but in a way I think it was also an offer. If c!Tommy had shown understanding, shown that he’d be willing to work alongside him and c!Punz in immortality, c!Dream would have taken him up on that.

And that’s the reason why c!Dream changed so quickly in the finale. If it was c!Tubbo, he wouldn’t have listened. If it was anyone but c!Tommy, he wouldn’t have listened, even the people he cares about. Because to him, they’re misguided, lead astray. But c!Tommy… assigning him the weight of the server’s ills on his shoulder also means he’s assigned legitimacy, and, well, trauma bonds work both ways. In hurting c!Tommy, he’d doomed himself into developing as much of an unhealthy, toxic trust in him as he’d gotten to happen the other way round.

It wasn’t pure understanding that did it. c!Tommy’s offered that a million times over. He’s offered kindness and empathy, and before c!Dream only repaid it in cruelty. But what c!Tommy offered was what he’d desperately wanted all along, and if he’d placed the blame onto c!Tommy… wouldn’t that mean he was the only one in the way? It’s not that he even cares about being a better person, I don’t think he’s even worked through the fact he’s done the worst of his actions yet, but pragmatically, it’s an offer of everything he wanted. One that, if he denied it, he’d have to come to terms with the fact that his suffering was all his fault.

It wasn’t too late when the bombs dropped. c!Dream was doomed the second he assigned blame onto c!Tommy, because that also assigned him power.

[itsclydebitches]

losing my mind over the "you could just be a human or a cat" line. the implications are boggling.

I don't even know what to do with that line. I mean yes, Remnant has a fairy tale in which faunus were created by combining humans and animals of comparable human intelligence (which, notably, is information that doesn't exist in RWBY proper), so from that very limited perspective there's a division within the faunus. But really, that's a fictional moral. A metaphor. In-world Blake is an allegory for a minority character; she's a human with characteristics that other her due to bias and systemic discrimination. To paraphrase another post I saw tonight, that's like telling a person of color, "You could be a human or the color black." What are you even talking about?

I can't even get into how this is presumably stemming from Blake's own subconscious, or how she suddenly thinks she needs to be a "bridge" between humans and faunus when she hasn't mentioned her "culture" since Volume 5 - a culture that doesn't exist when set against humans or other faunus. Faunus with cat ears live precisely the same as those with bunny ears who are the same as those with color changing abilities... who are culturally indistinguishable from humans. Is Blake's "culture" then that she's biologically addicted to fish? Will follow a laser pointer? Inevitably terrifies mice?

That's actually the worst part of this for me. We could have grimaced at this, but ultimately chalked it up as one, incredibly ill-thought-out line. However, in four episodes we've already had Blake present herself as a Literal Cat twice more: once when Little freaks out and Blake doesn't correct them and then again in this episode when she tries to steer the Curious Cat by speaking "one cat to another." Everyone remembers "Stop calling him a rapscallion. Stop calling him a degenerate. He's a person!" yeah? After years of having Blake fighting for the equal treatment of faunus and the understanding that they're not animals, now she's reversed to literally talking about herself like she is, in fact, at least half animal, while also being tempted to fully become one.

It's by no means a new problem, but seeing the girls' old designs really hammered home how the writing has betrayed their core personalities and motivations. Blake hasn't cared about faunus rights for four Volumes and has no problem with being thought of as an actual cat. Yang went from accepting that her disability is a part of her to claiming it's unimportant and, weirdly, saying she has to find things in her future rather than just acknowledging that, yes, she did suffer an actual, literal loss and has since worked through that? Weiss is no longer our slowly improving Ice Queen but Nora Lite, making the same broad claims about rehabilitating the Schnee name as she had back in Volume 2, but with none of the acknowledgement of how tainted that name has become after [gestures vaguely] everything she's been through. And our simple soul no longer has enough hope to fill a jar. The last reversal is at least compelling in terms of the potential character development, but considering that Volume 9 has, thus far, interrupted that development at every turn (meeting Little, fainting, walking away from conversations, being saved by the Curious Cat) I am not feeling very hopeful this week.

[gabessquishytum]

OH YOU KNOW WHAT i thought of another thing with the age-gap, but this time for a human au. if you kept it canon compliant and made it so that dream still gets kidnapped, you'd obviously have to scale down 100+ years of imprisonment to a human level. you could do what most fics do and have it be a few years with some serious PTSD to follow, or, if you wanted, could make it so that dream is captured at a young age (maybe in his early/mid-20s), but is held captive for a long time. like, seriously long, to the point where when he gets found and rehabilitated he's a fair bit older but...still acts young? it'd be the opposite of hob being 650/looking 35 normally/looking 20 magically from cat anon's one, where instead he looks older but mentally just..isnt

cause now im thinking like, hob sees this absolutely gorgeous man his own age and asks him out, and maybe dream's already had a thing for older men so hes into it. but then they go on a few dates and hob just kind of assumes his young-ness is just immaturity or being sheltered by his super mega wealthy family, or something. but then he finds out that its actually because he's spent nearly half his life locked up in a basement and hadnt been able to actually learn to be an adult like everyone else. definitely room for angst there but i also think the idea of dream seeing hob and going "oh a hot dilf is into me nice" and then remembering that he is also (technically) dilf-aged would be fucking hilarious [take the usage of Dilf with a grain of salt i think theyre both a bit young still irl]

-🖋

Oooooo no now I'm SAD :(( but also the potential for a lovely happy ending is amazing.

If Dream has been imprisoned since his very early twenties, for example, and isn't freed for 15 years, and then spends a year or two doing therapy and rehab before he goes out into the world, perhaps he's around 40? A few years older than Hob, even, who's in his late 30s. Maybe Dream is taking some casual classes at the local University because he never got the chance to complete the education he wanted, and that's how they meet. And Hob thinks that Dream is a delight, because he's sweet and shy and quite naive. Meanwhile Dream is flattered by Hob’s attention because he's so clever and worldly, and he knows everything that Dream still doesn't understand. Dream feels like he's being wooed by someone much older, and Hob feels like he's time travelled back to being a teen in love again, and they take it very slowly but Dream gets to have the life he always dreamed of in the end.

[firespirited]

About yesterday's cry for connection, several things happened at once, as they do. On top of the seasonal despresh hitting it's lows and teasing brief moments of clarity.

Small on the richter scale: The gmail app once again failed to block dad's email which was a seemingly anodyne "happy birthday did you get my ecard (i did and promptly put my emails on their 'do not send' list) , did you do anything special with your friends for the big 4.0?" 1- He's acting like we're buddies, I haven't spoken to him in a decade 2- He's either forgotten or in denial about his complete failure at being a decent human being in November which led to sis finally giving up on him. 3- One of his fave digs was my lack of solid friends (he moved us every three years so that's partly on him) and inability to do milestone stuff like an 18th or 21st birthday bash. It's very on brand to be able to break me in two nice sentences. But it's not so much him per se but the friends who turned out to be anti vaxx or anti mask so I expressed sadness and haven't tried to rebuild. I'm not sure there is any thing to rebuild when folks are explicit their beliefs exclude you.

Bigger on the richter scale: I've injured my pectorals several times in march doing abdominal building exercises and having to catch myself when my hip give out from pain. It's very painful and sets me right back. I need to work on all the muscles around the hips before I can start work on my atrophied lower back. It's at least 3 more months added to the rehabilitation process. Realistically I don't think I'll be rerooting or doing any handicrafts over 40 minutes long per week until 2024. And then it won't be commissions.

It's been 3 full months of rehab work, there is real visible progress but it's very slow and disappointingly small.

I also have to whittle down the project dolls I've kept and get it all out of the house even at a loss (oof) along with a serious re-evaluation of what I buy (double oof). Project dolls are only fun if you can actually *do* the project not just know the exact steps you *would* do. That means other types of treats and finding other things to do when I've got some free time and am itching to make something. The ones that will stay need hairstyles, maybe quick decoden hair and wigs so I won't be reminded until I'm ready, plastic is patient but I am not! (That'll actually be fun to do)

In good news, the anemia has improved and my eyebrows are growing back brown (4mm of brown, 6 of white lol) , I'm on a more solid treatment for GI candida and hope to heal my sore half taste-broken tongue.

I've resolved to purchase anti-mosquito summer clothes for walks if needed as a necessary health expense. Ties into the money insecurities mentioned before with a mental 'fix'.

Tiny on the richter scale but these things add up :

The whiplash of seeing dolltwt acting like they're the nice place for nice people or "it's only funny when it's us, it's malicious if you're someone who can't sit with us". Can't believe I got sucked into that nonsense. Stupid rabbithole to go down.

A youtuber getting too parasocially needy and setting off all my alarm bells.

Way more youtubers who *were* interesting and educational on certain subjects but lately have got lost in navel gazing about whether they're making the mind changing art/activism they dreamed of. It's part film grad, part evangelical need to have convert notches on your belt instead seeing the value in rebuilding broken things, paying someone's bills, prevention not miracles.

You could be educating for education's sake (teacher isn't a lesser job) and doing art for art's sake. I can handle a certain amount of self indulgence and there is always a place for self congratulation on a hard job but the performative is winning out over the active work and I just don't have much grace left to spare right now. I'd rather hear a well made liberal journalistic podcast on a subject than watch a radical leftist who'll derail the point with the implication that it's a sacrifice to be talking about this subject instead of being a 'proper' film maker.

Doesn’t sound like much but when you've carved out your hour of listening and that's not happening because it's become messy then there's a hole and it's really hard to find the right balance of interesting but no cliffhangers or nihilism, no toxic positivity no false promises. With my current desperation for routines and extreme pickyness: You see the problem right?

So, in a nutshell I need to find new treats, new entertainment, more courage to get rid of items I'm attached to, find rerooters in the EU so I can just refer all queries without having to explain that my back is rekt and the rest of me is rekt so healing will be stupid long, set a goal of acceptable hip pain while exercising and a goal of how much hip pain to aim for that won't mess with ab and dorsal work. Wait til enough emotional balance to donate recycle clothes that look rough. Dare to open up and make new friends knowing that heartbreak is inevitable. Cool cool cool. We'll start small.

❤️❤️❤️

[distort-opia]

Indeed, I agree! This beautifully touches upon a lot of my own thoughts on DotF and Endgame, and especially Bruce's approach regarding Joker. My focus in this post was on Tynion's work specifically, but absolutely-- DotF is where the pattern of Bruce seeing Joker as something inhuman became the most obvious. Personally I think it goes even further back to Morrison's take on Batman and Joker, and perhaps even Miller. However, as you say, there's plenty of contradictions and inconsistencies when it comes to Bruce and Joker's characterizations... but half the fun (at least for me) is trying to make some sense of it all anyway.

Bruce fully falling into the extreme of refusing to admit any humanity on Joker's part is undoubtedly a result of Joker's actions. Joker has rejected Bruce's offers to help multiple times, only escalating when it comes to the atrocities he's committed and the harm he's dealt to the people Bruce loves. However, I do think there's more at play... in the sense that Bruce definitely could've tried more, but didn't. You alluded to this yourself when mentioning that by seeing Joker as an irredeemable force of evil, Bruce doesn't have to feel guilty for not trying harder. But why doesn't he try harder?

With the exception of The Killing Joke... Cacophony, Secrets, and even that flashback we get in DotF, are less attempts to rehabilitate or help Joker, and more just moments of reaching out. Did we ever get an arc or a plot solely about Bruce trying to help Joker? DC could've done this in a myriad of ways. Bruce could've pulled strings to get the best kind of therapy for Joker; he could've funded scientific research investigating drugs or treatments that might help Joker. Bruce investing in Joker's rehabilitation, one way or another, could've been the main plot of a DC story-- and yet, there isn't one like this out there in canon. At least, there isn't a comic I can find or think of. For instance, in The Batman Who Laughs, Snyder was able to come up with a whole drug capable of changing one's neurochemistry and inducing empathy in psychopaths, developed by Wayne Enterprises and used on James Gordon Jr., and yet... this drug was not administered to Joker. No indication is made about even trying to "cure" him.

And leaving aside the fact that non-rehabilitated, villain Joker sells more comics, why hasn't Bruce tried harder? I will put the rest of my thoughts on this under the cut, since there'll be comic panels and lengthy rambles as per usual.

The only stories I can think of touching upon Joker being rehabilitated as a plot point are Batman: Secrets, Batman: Joker Time and in a way, Batman: Going Sane. Interestingly, what you'll find is that all of these have something in common: Bruce immediately doubting that it's real. (Even Harleen, which is Black Label and not in continuity, has Batman very reticent about Harley's claims that she can help Joker.)

Oh, it's true he has objective reasons for being skeptical-- but he doesn't act hopeful. As in, he doesn't investigate Joker's behavior while acting as if he wishes the rehabilitation is true. He does it in a distrustful, almost vicious manner.

-- Batman: Secrets #1

Derisive. "So much for your rehabilitation." And then there's Bruce's attitude in Joker Time:

-- Batman: Joker Time #2

Sure, Bruce is very justified in doubting that Joker can be rehabilitated by a cheap reality show that's only aiming to get a high viewership. But it's once again his general approach that I'm trying to point out. His mistrust of Joker being truly helped or genuine in his televised experiences runs so deep that Joker himself predicts that he'd try to disguise himself and infiltrate the crew, later on... which Bruce actually does to a t.

And yet, at the end of Secrets, Joker admits that he regretted his actions for real (with the tragedy being that no one believed it), and Bruce says "People can change. Maybe even you." And yet, in Joker Time, it's clear that some parts of the stories Joker told are true, and that they communicated real pain on his part. Both Secrets and Joker Time suffer a lot from the "TV rots your brain!" rhetoric specific to the 2000s, overall having a lot of flaws, but as the few stories that focus on any kind of structured rehabilitation attempt for Joker, I do think they must be taken into account. In both, Joker is deeply enamored with the attention he's getting from Gotham, much like in Devil's Advocate. And Bruce obviously sees through Joker's histrionic motivations, but something seems to blind him to the fact that underneath it all, there's a part of Joker cooperating. And instead of trying to appeal to that part of Joker, keep him in a state in which he's less inclined to kill people and cause harm, Bruce overlooks it entirely-- even at this point, he deems Joker "evil".

Thing is, Bruce has a bit of a pattern in this regard. I'm working on a bigger meta regarding Bruce's reactions to all the times his Rogues have attempted rehabilitation, but the gist of it is... ironically, he reacts badly, a lot. With some exceptions, he doesn't fully trust it, or reach out to support it unless he sees practical benefit in it. Riddler is a good example in this regard, since he had multiple attempts to "be better", in stories like Run, Riddler, Run or his reformed PI arc that spawns multiple titles, but has a big chunk of Bruce-related interactions in Detective Comics. No one articulates the point I want to make with this paranthesis better than Tim himself. In the following issue, Bruce provided the reformed Riddler with a case that had temptation hidden inside it, and despite Bruce's low expectations, Riddler did not take up his villainous ways again or disappoint:

-- Detective Comics (1937) #837

"And now that Riddler has come through, you're downright irate," says Tim. Hell, even when it comes to Harvey Dent, the Rogue who's closest to Bruce in terms of personal history (tied with Thomas Elliot, I suppose), had to face Bruce's immediate distrust with being "cured", which Bruce only supported when he had need of him to begin with:

-- Batman/Two-Face: Face the Face

I've got a lot of thoughts on Bruce's history with the concept of rehabilitation, but I'll leave it for the meta I've got in the works. However, at the end of the day... why would Bruce be angry at the indication that one of his villains has genuinely reformed? Him being so inclined to immediately distrust and keep an eye on all his villains is entirely logical (the man is just as paranoid about his friends and allies)-- but it's his lack of effort when it comes to supporting the rehabilitation of his Rogues that's interesting. Including Joker's.

I'll let Bruce's mind and then Joker answer it, more or less...

-- Batman: The Dark Knight (2011) #13

-- Batman: Death of the Family

"Chasing us, forever chasing us! And why? [...] It's what you need," Joker says. "We're what you love," Scarecrow tells him. "What you fear, what you really fear is the light."

Bruce relates to Joker. Bruce relates to all of his Rogues, to differing degrees. And he desperately wants to be better, to break out of the prison of his own making that he calls Batman; and he hopes it's possible for himself and for them too, to be happy one day and overcome their trauma. If Joker can be saved, so can Bruce. If the Rogues can be saved, so can Bruce.

But then they try. They show signs of rising above that darkness Bruce is in alongside them, and leave him behind. Part of Bruce sees these attempts at being better and rages with the anger Tim saw in him-- an anger borne out of fear. Bruce is afraid of being left alone with his own pain, with his unending wounds, with his hopelessness.

I got into too much detail on this, but this is why I think that yes... it is agonizing for Bruce to know Joker can be helped, and that Joker refuses that help. But he hasn't tried that hard to offer him rehabilitation, because Joker's refusal to get help mirrors his own. If Joker is all better, what then? What does it say about Bruce if Joker gets better and he doesn't? Is he left behind again? Alone?

So, Bruce dehumanizing Joker is a coping mechanism for all the things you've described, but it's also... selfish. It's not simply because Joker has rejected his offers to help, his tries to reach out. It's also because he needs Joker to be a monster, in more ways than one. After all, if Joker is no longer a monster, there's no one to put an end to Batman either. No equal that can tear him down, make him stop, give him a peace he craves. (This is why Failsafe "killing" Bruce in Batman #130 and saying it's compassion got to me. Zdarsky clearly understands this side of Bruce.) And just like you said, Bruce undoubtedly feels guilt over not trying harder, over enabling Joker, but it's easier to believe there's nothing human left to help in Joker than to admit that part of him needs Joker to be who he is now.

I keep going back to Bruce's mindset in Joker War, and especially what he took away from it, because... it's fascinating how impersonal and yet helplessly personal he is, regarding Joker.

It's obvious to me Tynion has worked with Snyder, especially on works involving Batman & Joker, because Bruce barely sees Joker as a human being. It starts with the way Bruce talks about Joker when fighting the fake Designer:

-- Batman (2016) #93

Bruce equates Joker to the abyss. In a move that surprises no one, he asserts once again that others don't understand Joker-- he isn't a common serial killer, he isn't insane, he's something else.

The theme continues as the plot progresses:

-- Batman (2016) #95

I don't really like that Tynion used a flashback to Bruce and Joker's first interaction in The Man Who Laughs to establish that Joker was this incomprehensible force of evil, even then. It's an inaccurate reading of the comic, and it oversimplifies Joker. There's a lot to be said about how this approach to Joker as less of a person and just a cardboard cut-out of Pure Evil is boring, one-dimensional and has unfortunately infected a lot of people working with the character over at DC, but alas-- not trying to go into the Doylist side of things in this post.

However, the flashback mentioned is meant to tie in to Bruce's hallucination of Alfred later on, the one that gives him the strength and motivation to keep fighting:

-- Batman (2016) #98

Alfred is a figment of Bruce's mind, hence... it's Bruce who puts Joker and death on the same level. Joker is a kind of inevitable force of destruction, something he can't hate. You cannot hate a hurricane, you cannot hate an earthquake. You cannot hate death or an abyss that consumes, because that's simply its nature. What it does.

...And yet. Despite how seemingly impersonal his way of seeing Joker is, there's still a part of Bruce trying to understand, trying to make sense of Joker. There's a little story in Detective Comics detailing Bruce's thoughts during Joker War, in which we see Bruce pondering the following:

-- Detective Comics (2016) #1027 -- The Gift

"Is that the lesson?" It's reminiscent of the questions Bruce addressed Joker through the listening device planted on the corpse in Batman (2016) #93: "Why attack me like this? What are you trying to prove?".

But it's more than an inner conflict. After the conclusion of Joker War, after Bruce walks away (while knowing Joker had the tools to disarm the bomb and would not die), Bruce tells Selina his true thoughts. God bless her heart for pushing his emotionally constipated ass:

-- Batman (2016) #101

Bruce thought of everything Joker did in terms of a lesson. He's thought of Joker's actions as that for a long time now, and there's a painful paradox to it; the points Joker makes about Batman always hurt Gotham and the people around Bruce, but part of him still listens. Part of him still tries to make sense of what Joker is saying and learn. And at the end of the day, even after all the death and destruction Gotham went through as a price... he thought that Joker was right.

He even proceeds to put those lessons into practice. He moves to a townhouse in Gotham, he tries to be closer to the city and belong to it, not be apart from it. Start over, change. And yet, in his new base of operations, we get this:

-- Batman (2016) #106

Out of everything in the original Cave, all the trophies and the reminders, Bruce brought the Joker card with him. There's no other personal element in there, nothing else meant to be decorative or more than just practical. Nothing else but the card on the floor. It's especially interesting when you take into account that Fear State, the major arc that follows Joker War and Ghostmaker's introduction, is about all the ways in which a traumatic past defines or breaks people.

And yet Bruce carries this piece of the past with him. It'll never cease to fascinate me, how much Bruce intellectualizes and dehumanizes Joker, so he can avoid his personhood and the true parameters of their relationship... all while asserting to himself and to others how he's the only one Joker sees as alive in a cold dead world, how he's the only one who matters to Joker. How he's the only one who understands how Joker works, how he's the only one who can stop him.

(Don't even get me started on Miracle Molly being Joker-coded, or Khoa as a psychopathic individual on the side of good Bruce forgives murder for, because hoo boy. Actually I might make a separate post about Fear State, and then another about Ghostmaker... goddammit, brain.)

[autisticsupervillain]

Dark Guardian AU.

Danny Fenton walks home confidently after his first encounter with The Lunch Lady, only to find Skulktech 9.9 waiting for him when he gets home. Danny gets swatted asidd like a fly when he tries to fight them and is inches away from death when he's suddenly saved by a ghost with a billowing white cape. After brutally taking Skulktech apart, Danny's savior introduces himself as Danny's future self.

Dan explains that one of his enemies, Clockwork, has begun sending future versions of Danny's enemies into the past to eliminate him, so Dan has to protect Danny from them until he gets strong enough to face these enemies himself.

Danny is initially estatic to have a cool older self as a mentor, but that dries up quick when it becomes clear that Dan can barely keep up the pretense of not being a blood thirsty maniac and that his future self has all but entirely forgotten what it's like to be human. As such, while Dan fights of future enemies sent by Clockwork and gives Danny vague "I can't risk altering the future but..." advice, Danny works on bringing Dan back down to Earth. Mostly by dragging him to school and having him hang out with Sam and Tucker. Over time, Sam and Tucker's view Dan goes from "scary, vaguely evil future Danny" to "feral, grumpy Danny who sucks at Doomed and forgets humans need to breath".

While Dan refuses to fight Danny's past enemies for him for fear of stifling his development, he makes semi-exeption for Vlad." He won't help stop Vlad's schemes aside from vague tips, but he will fly over to Wisconsin to kick his ass when he gets bored. Vlad is very much terrified of this mysterious older Phantom who shows up at random times to beat him up, trash his house, and leave, mostly because he has no idea why he's so strong or who he could be. Vlad has resorted to asking Jack vaguely probing questions about wether he's half ghost and has a secret sadistic side. It helps that Vlad and Fright Knight actually take some minimum amount of effort for Dan to best, unlike the rest of the past rogues, who can't even hurt him. It gives Vlad hope that he could overcome this new foe and gives Dan a means of entertainment.

Initially, Amity Park views Dan as a secret transformation Phantom has for when he needs to take a fight seriously, but they later come to see him as Phantom's grumpy older brother who comes to bail out his older sibling whenever he gets in over his head. Naturally, everyone thinks he's hot and it drives Danny nuts.

And, when Danny defeats the Ghost King, Dan realizes that he's not only proud of Danny, but he's actually grown to care about him. When the CAT rolls around, Dan finds he can't stand to lose the family he's grown to care about again and he heroically saves everyone from the Nasty Burger explosion. Now only existing thanks to the Time Medallion he used to travel back in the first place, Dan is greeted by Clockwork, who congratulates him on his rehabilitation.

"This was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it?"

"I saw all the ways this could have played out, but you made your own choices. Your future was never set in stone, Daniel. I look forward to seeing where it takes you."

Cue Dan being honest to Danny, Sam, and Tucker about his past and ultimately being accepted for redeeming himself.

[whumpzone]

I was just wondering how Col would react if some people had to come to the house for some really important/necessary repairs or something. Like plumbers or electricians or construction workers. Imagine Col hearing strange men’s voices from his room, or walking around the corner and seeing a couple of large men who he’s never seen before talking to linden.

okay i absolutely LOVE this and here is a relatively fluffy thing fulfilling this prompt, but i might also write an angstier version because it would be so good!! thanks anon!

-

The plumber was a young man, not much older than Linden. He had dark hair tied back into a messy ponytail, up on the crown of his head. He introduced himself as Dom, his words softened by a Yorkshire accent. Linden directed him to the recently-broken boiler. He was just wondering where Col was, when-

“Oh, you’ve got a Pet!” Dom exclaimed, all attempts to seem professional failing instantly. Col stood, ramrod straight, in the hallway, and Linden pondered that the plumber’s obvious excitement might not translate to positivity in Col’s eyes. He certainly had an air of a deer, frozen, waiting to see whether to run or play dead.

Dom lowered himself onto one knee in front of the boiler, but kept his eyes on Col. He placed a hand on his thigh and raised the other towards Col, who watched it intensely.

“Uh, may I? He’s real cute.”

Col’s eyes flicked to Linden’s. It was only for half a second, but it was enough for Linden to gather what Col was asking him. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Hey, hey boy, come here,” Dom coaxed, and Col obediently approached, sinking to his knees and tilting his head downwards. An invitation.

Dom ruffled his hair and Linden could see the way Col pushed against Dom’s hand, full of gratitude and good behaviour.

“Aren’t you a sweet boy, hm? Yeah, a real nice doggy. My wife was thinking of getting one,” he said, turning to Linden. “To keep our daughter company. We both work long hours and I think a Pet would be nice, for her to come home to after school, you know?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Linden replied stiffly.

“We’d just have to make sure it’s a well behaved one, you know? How is yours?” Dom’s eyes ran over Col’s many scars, lingering on his burnt hand. “Uh, or if that’s too personal, don’t-“

“He’s new,” Linden said, a tad too quickly, but Dom’s features relaxed. Was that selfish? What do I care if this guy thinks I’m a sadist? But I do care, don’t I? “I’ve actually only had- uh, he only came here about a week ago. And so far it’s gone… really well. Yeah.”

“Aww, you’re new!” he said in his too-chipper voice, clearly reserved for Pets only. “You’re gonna be such a good dog, aren’t you? Nice friendly dog.”

Linden tried to hide his grimace as Col smiled under Dom’s hand. It wasn’t lost on him that Dom hadn’t bothered to ask for a name.

. . .

Pet felt like an ice cube, half-frozen in the fear of getting this right, and half-melting under the pure happiness of being petted and called a nice dog.

I can do this, I can do this, he thought, wishing as usual that he could just turn his thoughts off. Master is right there but it’s fine, he said it was fine, he if didn’t like it he’d put a stop to it, right?

Or would he let it happen, for the sake of politeness, then punish me after. Is this a test? Am I doing something wrong? He knows, he knows that this doesn’t change my loyalty to him, right?

The man lavished him in some more words of warm, mindless praise that even he could soak up, and then chuckled with an “all right then, let’s get on with this.”

Pet pulled himself out of his thoughts and took the hint, bowing his head a little in respect and scampering away.

He could see Master’s frown from the corner of his eye, he knew Master hated when he crawled, but Pet couldn’t bring himself to stand overthe human. It was completely wrong, maybe Master would understand and go easy on the punishment. But Pet knew he had disobeyed and that was worse than any feeling of right or wrong. He slunk into the living room, away from sight like a good dog, and let the waiting begin.

. . .

Dom finished up in only thirty minutes, and soon he was shaking Linden’s hand as he left.

“Thank you again, for coming on such short notice,” Linden said as warmly as he could.

“No sweat, maybe just leave me a good review online yeah?” Dom replied with a big smile, which Linden returned. “And, uh, any advice for having a Pet? One like that would be great, you know, a nice calm one.”

Linden pondered this, wondering how to condense years of anti-Pet sentiment and a genuine desire to rehabilitate Colton into something that a future Pet-owner might take on board.

“Just treat them kindly.”

-

tagging

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[sage-nebula]

I’m super tired so I’m not sure this is all going to be coherent but I want to get these thoughts out now while I have them—

I think there is a lot to be said and appreciated about the way that No Way Home approached the subject of rehabilitation—of how, even when someone has done horrible things, they still deserve rehabilitation, they can still be better if they’re given the help they need to be better.

All of the villains were, well, villains. They hurt people. They killed people. And from a punitive justice point of view, it could be argued that they deserved the fates they were dealt in their own universes, that sending them back there to die wasn’t just “right” by the measure of “it’s their destiny to die like that” like Strange argued, but also “right” in the sense that they were murderers, or that they would be murderers if given the chance, and so their deaths would ensure the safety of so many more people. When you consider the fact that most of them were unrepentant about their actions and would do the same or worse again if given half the chance, that argument becomes even stronger.

But Peter (and MJ, and Ned, and May) looked at that and said, hang on, no. At least one of these people (Norman) wants help, wants to be better, doesn’t want to hurt anyone (at least not at the moment). And the others, while they did horrible things, were thrust unwillingly into certain circumstances that pushed them to do those things. Which doesn’t make it right, but if they could change the circumstances that were inciting those behaviors, then that would also prevent further harm in the future while also not doing so at the cost of human (or lizard) life.

This isn’t an easy choice to make. This especially isn’t an easy choice to make when the harm that has been dealt has been dealt to you personally. Tom’s Peter wanted to kill Norman after Norman killed May (and the fact that it was him who killed her, when he was the one she advocated the most strongly for, is not lost on anyone). He no longer wanted to help him, he wanted to hurt him, to make him feel the same agony that Peter himself was feeling, if not worse. And the other Peters understood where he was coming from; they understood that it was grief driving his rage, they understood the need he felt for vengeance. But having lived through similar tragedies, they knew that Peter killing Norman wouldn’t actually make him feel better. And, more importantly (though this was not said), they also knew that rehabilitative justice doesn’t mean anything if you don’t offer that same chance to everyone, no matter what they’ve done.

Again, it’s not an easy choice to make. It’s the hardest pill to swallow. This is particularly true in real life, when it’s not something that can be fixed through reversing scientific experiments gone wrong. Rehabilitating real people is not as easy as fixing a fried microchip or injecting them with a scientific serum. And unlike in this movie, where unwilling villains could be cured, in real life someone can’t be rehabilitated if they don’t want to. The change has to start with them, they have to want it. And as a result, it isn’t always possible.

But if you’re going to fight for rehabilitative justice, then you have to fight for it for everyone. You can’t pick and choose who you help. If you do, then what you’re offering is no longer justice, and you’re definitely not a hero.

As a final note, I want to say that I really love that it was a superhero movie that addressed and highlighted this. So often in these movies (and in sci-fi and fantasy movies in general) the story boils down to, “here is a villain, defeat them through violence.” Beating the shit out of, and not uncommonly killing, the villain is what’s seen as a true victory, a heroic moment to be celebrated. But here, Peter refused to take the easy way out by sending the villains off to die, and chose instead to take the hard path of trying to rehabilitate / cure them. And at the end, though he came close to doling out punitive justice on Goblin and killing him as revenge for May, ultimately he made the choice not to, with Tobey’s help. No villains died in this movie, and the fights were fights to cure them rather than beat them. It’s decidedly, markedly different for a superhero movie, and I truly enjoyed and will be thinking about it a lot in the days to come.

[maiyami]

₳ⱠⱠ ØⱤ ₦Ø₮Ⱨł₦₲

𝓚𝓮𝓲𝓰𝓸 𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓪𝓶𝓲 𝓧 𝓕𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓸

𝓡𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰: 18+

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: 𝓢𝓶𝓾𝓽, 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯, 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮!

𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 18+

(I ended up going out of order of which fanfics were coming out. I got lost in writing this one. He cares Bakugou x female reader will be coming out. This ended being way longer than expected, sorry!)

You died, or at least you thought you did. It all happened so quickly, the accident. You were out on patrol one evening, that’s when it all went to shit. You were attacked, not by just one villain but three. Your quirk was strong but not strong enough at the time. You sustain major injuries, put you into the hospital for a good amount of time. Then it was off to rehabilitation, in the middle of nowhere by yourself until one day you weren’t alone anymore.

You had the ability to read minds, manipulate them, and get into deep lost memories. But since the attack, you haven’t been able to use your quirk. Your skull fracture made it so whenever you tried to read someone mind, you’d end up with blurry vision, an intense headache, and not to mention horrible nausea. You had a long road ahead of you, honestly you really didn’t think you’d make it.

The place the Commission had brought you too was way out in the country side. No one was around for miles, but funny enough this huge cabin in the woods was the only thing you’d find. It was cute you though, wasn’t anything to special but they made it seem enough like “home”. You knew you wouldn’t be seeing home anytime soon.

It was lonely, only being check on every few days to make sure you were okay. A PT specialist every two days, keeping you up and about. Then you saw a van pull up, you watched from your bedroom window. A man had come out of it, he looked so beaten down. Dark circles around his eye, hair a bit messy, and there was bandages wrapped all around his face and arms. He looked soulless to say the least, a shell of a human. He noticed you looking through the window, looking right back at you.

He was beautiful, you thought too yourself. That golden eye you could see was looking through your soul. Before you could stare any longer, you slipped away from the window. Trying to hide yourself from him, you didn’t want him to think you were looking at him because he was so badly hurt. You quickly went into the bathroom to clean yourself up. Heroes get hurt, and you didn’t want him to think that you thought less of him.

When you came out of the bathroom, there was a knock on your door. You walked to open it, finding one of the caretakers there. He explained to you that the new patient is going to be in the room next to you. That he isn’t himself much lately, and that you shouldn’t take anything he says to heart. He was there to recover just like yourself, try not to be over baring. You nodded at the caretaker, thanking him for informing you.

After he leaves, you make your way to his door. You softly knock on it, stepping back a bit. The door slowly opened, you were met with that brilliant golden stare once more. It almost took your breath away, but you kept it together. “Hi, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You said softly, a weak smile on your face. The man stared back at you, narrowed eye. A loud hiss left his lips as he looked at you. Then he slammed the door shut, right in your face. You just stared wide-eyed at it, you understood that no one wants to be in the situation that you were both in. You sighed, walking back to your room and quickly shutting the door.

In the other room, Keigo was just fuming. He hated that he couldn’t be out being a hero. He hated that he let a villain get the upper hand on him, break him down like this. He thought he was going to be alone, he wasn’t told that someone else would be here. The time in the hospital really crushed his go lucky, happy attitude. He was never a rude person to people he had never talked too before, but seeing you there made him upset. You looked fine to him, like there was no reason for you to be there with him. You wouldn’t understand his pain, wouldn’t understand where he is coming from. He had heard your door shut, he sat on the bed thinking over how he was going to get through this.

As the moments passed, he heard your door open once more. Footsteps walking by his door, and off somewhere into the cabin. It had to been about an hour before he heard your footsteps coming back down the hall. Then he heard another knock on his door, apparently you didn’t get the picture from him slamming the door in your face. Keigo was up and walking to the door. Rage filling his heart as he opened it. But when he opened it, you weren’t there. However on the floor was a tray, there was some food on it, a glass of water, and a note. He picked the tray up slowly, his arms still weak from what he had been through.

He placed the tray on his dresser, debating if he should just leave it outside your room now. Then he grabbed the note, opening it up just to see what you could have possibly said to him. He half thought that maybe you decided to chew him out on a piece of paper but as he read the note, he felt a little bit of regret come to his stomach.

“𝐻𝒾, 𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓃. 𝐼 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓉𝑒. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉, 𝒾𝒻 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝐼’𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒.

-𝒴/𝒩”

“Fuck.” He said softly to himself. He doesn’t mean to be rude or shut out anyone but he just doesn’t feel like putting on the front of Hawks the number two pro hero right now. He knew he wasn’t going to not see you, he knows that your paths will cross at some point. Maybe he will try tomorrow to talk too you. He then decided he might as well eat the food you made. You did go out of your way to make him something to eat. It was beautifully made up, still pretty warm. Then he started to eat, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. It was so god damn good, the flavors were perfect. You really put the effort into cooking for him, even though he was a dick.

You were sitting on your bed, reading a book when you heard the door next to your room open. Then a little piece of paper was slipped under your door. You waited until you heard his door shut once more before getting up to grab the note. You leaned down slowly to pick it up, bringing yourself back up carefully making sure to not make yourself dizzy. You sat back down on your bed, opening the note to read it.

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝒹, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉.

-𝐻𝒶𝓌𝓀𝓈

You smiled lightly to yourself, then you looked at the name again. “Hawks.” You said very softly, then your eyes widened. Number two pro hero Hawks? There’s no fucking way. Why would the Commission send him to a place like this, he’s a huge hero. You can understand why they’d send someone like you here, barely in the low teens. He really didn’t look like himself, but it didn’t matter to you. He was still very handsome, and you knew he was recovering a serious injury. You decided to play it cool, you didn’t want to make him feel like the only reason you wanted to get to know him was because of his status.

It was the complete opposite actually, you really couldn’t care how big of a hero he was. He is still human, and that’s how you were going to treat him. You put the note on your nightstand, turning the light off to drift off into sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day of PT and you knew that your mind needed to relax.

As the weeks past, you saw very little of Hawks. Most the time you’d see him when he was outside with the PT specialist, trying to get his wings back in order. Or you would see he when you dropped food off to him, he was opening the door now for you. Thanking you softly before returning into his room. Some notes exchanged here and there, some were just saying how great the meal was, while others were things he might want to try to eat now. It was peaceful for the most part, however some nights weren’t great. You could hear him tossing and turning in his room, the faintness of him waking up slightly horrified by a bad dream, and it was slowly breaking your heart.

Unknown to you, Hawks was hearing the same thing coming from your room. His hearing was still so keen, he could hear every toss you did, every sharp breath you took, and not to mention the soft no’s slipping past your lips in the middle of the night. He thought about asking you what had happened too you, but then again he hasn’t been the most welcoming person lately. He was going to try, he was going to put in the effort. I mean you seem to have been here longer than he has, maybe you really needed someone to be there for you.

It was later in the day, the sun was starting to set. Hawks was in the kitchen, while you were sitting in the common area reading a book. The sun was shining a beautiful orange across your face, that’s when Hawks noticed that you were wearing makeup. It was definitely trying to cover something, he could faintly see it. Then he saw how your e/c eyes were shining against the light, they were so bright and beautiful. Them seemed full of life, but something sad was hidden behind them.

As the color in the sky started to turn a bright red, you pulled yourself up from the chair. Slowly making your way outside, sitting on the front steps as the sun was setting. You were in a loose sweater, hanging slightly off your shoulder. Leggings along with some slipper, hugging your legs as you rested your chin on your knees. You were so lost in the sky that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

Hawks noticed that you had left your chair, hearing the door close. He walked out from the kitchen, he could see you through the glass door. Looking up at the sky, not a care in the world. As he walked closer, he could see some scars on your exposed shoulder. A slight frown coming to his face, he thought there was no reason for you to be here. But he was mistaken, he knew that you had been through something actually. He walked out onto the porch, looking at you. You hadn’t even notice he was there.

You only took your eyes off the sky once Hawks sat down next too you. You turned your head to the side on your knees, looking over the man. You gave him a soft smile, then turned your head back to the sky. “What are you doing out here?” He asked softly. You rarely got to hear his voice, it was a bit raspy from how little he used it. “I’m watching the sunset.” You said back at him. “Why?” He asked, which he thought was a stupid question. He loved watching the sunset while he was flying through the sky, deep down he just wanted to keep hearing your voice.

“Because I’m not going to live forever, I find it very peaceful and beautiful.” You said softly. Hawks just studied your face, how your eyes were lit up from watching the colors change before your eyes. You could feel his eyes on you, so you decided to try and see if you could read him. You fixed your mind onto him, matched his breathing, and then closed your eyes for a little. But just like before, shooting pain came across the back of your head. You felt a little dizzy, you pulled your legs down quickly and put your arms out to stable yourself. You blinked a few times, and shook your head a bit.

Hawks got a little worried looking at you, he leaned in a little. “Are you alright?” He asked, concern laced into his voice. He went to put a hand on your back, but quickly took it away before it touched you. You looked at him, your vision a little hazy. You gave him a small smile, he could tell it was forced. “Y-Yeah, just a headache.” You said back. Slowly getting up to walk back into house. “I’m going to go lay down. Hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” You said softly, but as you started to walk to the door, you stumbled a little. Bracing yourself against the door frame.

Hawks was quick to your side, holding onto your hip. His reaction time was still quick, but not fully back to were it once was. “You aren’t okay.” He said too you, guiding you back to your room. He walked slowly with you, keeping at your pace. Once you reached your room, Hawks brought you in. Letting you sit on your bed. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” You said softly, pulling your legs up so you could lay down. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but as he looked at you he could tell you were so tired. “No problem, it’s kind of what I do.” He said back.

You smiled at him, nodding your head as you brought your covers up to your chest. “Of course, that’s why you’re a top pro.” You said back at him. He was a little shocked by that, he honestly didn’t think you knew who he was. He actually had a small smirk come to his lips, he said goodnight and was back into his room. A few hours went by, Hawks couldn’t sleep. All he heard was how badly you were thrashing in your sleep. Then he heard you scream, it was like you were dying. He quickly left his room, busting into yours and that’s when he saw you.

You were curled into yourself, light sweat covering your skin. Tears were coming down your cheeks, and you were breathing so hard. You were shaking, eyes still closed from your sleep. Hawks walks over, sits down onto your bed. He shakes you awake lightly, trying not to scare you any further. You woke up in a panic anyways, looking around as you pushed yourself against your headboard. Hawks hushed you, making sure you knew you were okay. “It’s just me, calm down. You’re okay.” He said softly, softly putting his hand on your knee.

You just broke down, crying hard as you looked at him. Hawks knew he hasn’t been the most open or nice too you, but seeing you like this just broke his heart. He pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you as you cried into his chest. He wasn’t going to ask what you dreamt about, he just held you. He was softly stroking your hair, hushing you as you shook in his arms. He let some time pass until he noticed that you had fallen asleep against him. He didn’t want to disturb you, he just looked over your face taking it all in.

That’s when the moonlight hit across your face, what he thought before was right. You did cover something with makeup on your face, it was a scar. You had a scar coming from top left of your forehead, all the way down across your nose to your jawline. He lightly ran his finger over it, thinking about what you had possibly been through. He didn’t understand why you would cover it, you’re gorgeous and a scar wasn’t going to take away from that. He pulled you down with him, letting you cuddle up to him while laying down. He rested his chin on top of your head, slowly drifting off to his own sleep.

You felt the warmth of the morning sunrise on your face, slowly fluttering your eyes open. You didn’t know how you were going to face Hawks after what happened last night. You turned over, you might as well start to get ready but you were stopped. Hawks never left you last night, he was still sleeping next to you. You looked over him, his bandages around his face came off a few days before. He was scarred like you, his a lot fresher than yours. You ran your fingers along his skin, you could feel the different textures in his skin. He moved a little bit from the touch, which you quickly took your hand back. He seemed so peaceful sleeping, you didn’t want to disturb him.

After that night into the morning, your relationship had gotten a lot better with Hawks. He came out of his room more, started to eat dinner with you, watched the sunset with you every evening, and even went out of his way to make sure you were doing better. He was slowly feeling like himself again, he was recovering pretty quickly. But as he started to recover more and more everyday, you seemed to be getting worse. Your headaches were getting worse by the day.

One day while you were outside with your PT specialist, Hawks watched from the common area. He had never seen your quirk, he wanted to see if you were progressing at all. He went into the kitchen quickly to grab a glass of water, when he came back to the window he was seeing red. You were on the ground, your hands holding your head as you started to throw up. Your PT specialist didn’t even move, didn’t see if you were alright. Hawks dropped the glass and rushed outside. You were crying, and your specialist was wide-eyes as Hawks came rushing at him.

“What did you do to her.” He said sternly as he gripped the mans shirt tightly in his fist. The man was studdering, saying this was part of her recovery and she needed to move past the pain. Hawks threw the man to the ground, his gaze was looking through him and he practically hissed while he spoke to him. “If you push her that hard again, I’ll end you. She’s done with PT today.” He said sharply, walking over to gather you up into his arms. He brought you back inside, bringing you to the bathroom. He sat you on the toilet, taking a damp wash cloth to wipe your mouth and cheeks. He helped you back into your favorite chair, waiting for you to speak.

“Thank you.” You said softly then finally met his eyes. You could see the worry over his face, he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You aren’t dying right?” He asked, you could see the concern in his eyes. You laughed slightly at him. Shaking your head as you kept looking at him. “No, I’m not dying Hawks. Sometimes it feels that way though.” You said softly. He moved his chair closer to you, holding your knee. “Tell me what happened.” He said. You sighed, leaning back into your chair.

“I was attacked by three villains, my quirk was strong but not strong enough. My quirk is the ability to read minds, control others thoughts, and even pull memories you didn’t even know you had. If I think hard enough I can even manipulate memories. But dealing with three people at the same time can put stress on my quirk. They over powered me, they decided to repeatedly slam my head into the concrete.” You started to trail off, rubbing the back of your head while recalling the memory. Hawks squeezed your knee, letting you know that it’s ok.

“I stayed in the hospital for months, in and out of it all the time. They fractured my skull in two places, broken several of my ribs, wrist, and leg. The Commission sent me here to recover by myself, that was seven months ago..” You said, a frown coming to your lips. “My bones healed, but my mind didn’t. After the accident, I couldn’t use my quirk anymore. Something about the nerves in my brain weren’t lining up anymore. They said it was going to be a long and painful recovery. I thought they were being extreme, but they were fucking right.” You started to trail off, getting lost in the fact that you weren’t whole anymore.

“I’m broken, and I don’t think I’ll ever be put back together.” You said softly, more to yourself than Hawks. But he understood what you mean, being without your quirk after having it since birth is scary. “I understand. I truly do, I thought I had lost my wings. Not being a hero ever again would probably ruin me. You’ll get better.” He said squeezing a little tighter on your knee. You sighed, looking out the window. “It wouldn’t matter if I ever got it back, I’m expendable. That’s why I’ve been here for so long, I don’t think I’ll ever leave.” You said, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Hawks was slowly breaking on the inside, he could see how much this hurt you. He leaned in to wipe the tear away from your cheek, letting his thumb rub your skin a little more. You turned your cheek into his hand, just enjoying the tenderness he was showing you. Hawks noticed that the sun was starting to set, he pulling on your hand. “Let’s go watch the sunset.” He said, helping you up. As you sat together watching the sunset, you leaned your head on his shoulder. He smiled to himself a little, letting his head rest on yours.

As you watched the sunset together, you looked up to some birds flying together. Two little blue jays, diving down to just shoot back up into the sky. “What is it like to fly?” You asked him. Hawks smiled, looking at the birds as well. His wings shook a little, causing him some discomfort. They were still healing, but it was getting better. “It’s like having all the freedom in the world. To feel the rush of wind against your skin, the feeling of being so high, there is really nothing like it.” He said. You smiled, he seemed so happy to talk about something he loves to do. “Sounds like an amazing experience.” You said softly. Hawks nuzzled you a bit closer. “I’ll take you into the sky one day.” He said back. This made you smile brightly, pushing your head into his shoulder more. “I’d really like that.” You said back.

After the sun finally had set, Hawks helped you back up. You were a little dizzy, but he was there to support you. Bringing you back into your room, your walking wasn’t stable really. He waited for you to change, making sure you didn’t fall over. Once you came from the bathroom, you were in a tank top and shorts. That’s when he saw them, all of them. You didn’t just have a scar on your face and shoulder. They were on your arms, legs, and the little bit of torso that was showing. You got a little embarrassed, rubbing your own arms as he looked.

Hawks didn’t realize how hard he was staring at you until he noticed you looked so uncomfortable. All that was running through his head was that he wanted to hurt the people who hurt you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare for so long.” He said softly. You assured him that it was okay, you couldn’t hide them forever. You walked over to your bed, pulling back the covers so you could slip under them. “Could you stay?” You asked him quietly. He nodded, slipping under the covers with you. He pulled you close to him so your face was nuzzled into his chest. “Did they ever catch the villains that did this too you?” He asked bluntly.

“No. They never found them.” You said back. Hawks up held you tighter, rubbing the long scar along your shoulder. “I’ll find them, they will pay for what they did to you.” He said against your hair. You held onto his waist, letting your fingers slowly rub his skin under the hem of his shirt. “That’s okay, Hawks. You don’t need to bother yourself with that.” You said. Hawks brought a hand up to let his fingers rub through your hair. “Call me Keigo, y/n. And I will find them.” He said back. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be swallowed by his comfort. “Thank you, Keigo.” You said softly before drifting off into sleep.

This became a regular thing for the both of you, you quickly realize that sleeping together caused you both not to have nightmares anymore. Then it was time for the bandages around Keigos arm and ribs to come off. You helped him, pulling them off slowly to show the newly scarred skin. You rubbed his arms, letting yourself feel the texture. Everything was going really well, your relationship with Keigo was very peaceful now. Sadly you just had to put him through a huge scare.

It was getting around the time for you both to go out on the porch to watch the sunset. You walked into the kitchen to put the dishes from your early dinner into the sink. You could feel yourself become dizzier than normal, black spots coming to your vision. As you made your way back into the common room, you felt a little trickle of blood come from your nose. You looked at Keigo who was looking out the window. “Keigo-“ you said quickly and as soon as he turned around you fell to the floor. Keigo was right at your side. “Y/n! Wake up! HEY!” He yelled to you but the blood kept coming from your nose. He was quick to pick you up into his arms, rushing out of the cabin.

He stretched his wings out behind him, pain radiating through them to his back. He pushed that out of his mind, then he was in the air with you. This wasn’t the way he wanted to bring you into the sky with him for the first time. He flew to the closet hospital he could find, bringing you in. Doctors quickly took you into a room, a scan showed that you had a brain aneurysm. Bleeding into your skull, but luckily Keigo got you there just in time. It was still a few days before you woke back up. Keigo had to pay off the doctor so they wouldn’t let the news know about him being the hero he was. He knew if the Commission found out that he could fly while carrying someone, they’d make him leave.

He never left your side, constantly holding your hand as you were sleeping. So many thoughts were running through his mind, he couldn’t stop them. He thought what if you never woke up, what if you didn’t remember the beautiful memories that you both shared, what if you didn’t remember him. He gripped your hand a little tighter, soft tears running down his cheeks as he looked over your face. “Please wake up for me, Angel. You’re everything I need in this life.” He said lowly as he rubbed your knuckles. Soon he placed his face onto your bed, letting the sounds of machines put him to sleep.

You fluttered your eyes open, looking to the side to see Keigo sleeping. You smiled softly at him, slowly letting your fingers slip through his hair with little effort. Keigo slowly woke, letting his golden eyes meet yours. Tears started to come down his face as he looked at you, leaning up so you could take his face into your chest. You let him cry softly into you, cooing him to calm down while saying you were okay. “I thought you lied too me...” he said softly. You pulled his face up so you could look at him. “What?” You said.

“When I saw the blood coming from your nose, I thought this was it. You were dying and you just told me you weren’t so I wouldn’t worry as much. I thought I was going to lose you, someone that I lov-“ Keigo was cut off once your lips met his. His eyes were slightly wide, a little tension in his lips. But as you leaned in more to deepen the kiss, he relaxed into it. It was breath taking, like you were meant to be with Keigo. Everything just seemed to fit so well when it came to him. You finally felt whole.

You were released from the hospital, Keigo bringing you back to what you call home now. His wings were almost back to what they used to be, large and powerful. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the PT specialist would call Keigos handler to have him come back. You were way further from being “ok” than you ever were, but it’s okay. You were going to enjoy what little time you have left with him. Going back into the rhythm you both set before your scare.

It was a cool evening, snow was starting to fall from the sky. It was time to watch the sunset, you bundled up in a cozy sweater and soft pants. Keigo in a jacket with joggers, you were both silent as you watched the colors changed. Keigo just beamed at the way you looked at the sky, it filled his heart with pure joy. He stood up, standing before you with a hand out. You looked at him confused but there was a smirk on your lips. You took his hand, standing up. “Can I take you into the sky?” He said as he pulled you close to him. You nodded, slipping your arms around his neck.

He ascended into to the sky slowly, making sure not to make you feel nauseous. But once you were above the tree line, your smile was bright. Honestly it could rival the sun by how much it was glowing. Keigo enjoyed the pure happiness on your face, not taking his eyes off of you. “I love you, y/n.” He said softly against your ear. You kissed him sweetly, a soft tear trailing down your cheek. “I love you, Keigo.” You said back.

You had descended down to the ground, being pulled quickly inside the cabin. Keigo was pulling at your clothes as you pulled at his. As you made it into your room, you were both completely naked. Keigo pushed you onto the bed, kneeing in front of you as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. He leaned in, letting his tongue lick a broad stripe up your entrance. You threw your head back at the sensation, feeling a tingle through your body that you hadn’t felt in a while. Keigo softly moaned as he tasted you, letting his tongue repeat the motion. Then his tongue lapped quickly against your clit, making you buck your hips slightly at the feeling.

He pulled his face away, you whined slightly at the lost of his warm tongue. But you watched him suck on his middle finger before teasing it at your entrance. You were soaked, his finger slipped in with ease. He pumped his finger in and out of you a few times before slowly pushing in his index finger. You moaned, it was music to his ears. “So wet for me, Angel. Such a good fucking girl.” He half moaned before leaning back down to suck on your clit. That’s all you needed to be a twitching mess, moaning sharply before falling over the edge. You were panting, but you quickly pulled Keigo up by his face so your lips could meet again.

Letting his tongue invade your mouth, tasting yourself on it. It made you moan against the kiss, tugging on his hair. “Let me taste you.” You moaned against his ear, which Keigo gave you an approving nod. He quickly sat on the bed while you were the one slipping down to your knees. His cock is huge you though, admiring it before letting your tongue run along his shaft. Keigo bit down on his bottom lip at the feeling, not taking his eyes off you. Your tongue swirled around his head, then your lips took him. Inch by inch, Keigo watched his length disappear into your mouth.

Once you got to the base of him, he let out a loud moan. You came back up all the way to his head before slipping in back down your throat. Your hand came up to rub his balls softly, causing Keigo to buck into your mouth. He pulled you back, causing a loud pop from your mouth once his cock left it. You looked up at him, lust and love in your eyes. He looked back at you with the same eyes. “I need you now, Angel.” He mummers, pulling you up to place you back on your back. He was quickly over you, caging your head in with one of his arms. Letting his other hand guide his length into your hole.

He slowly pushed himself inside you, his fists gripped the sheet right next to your head. You gaped at him, mouth hung open while you felt him bottom out inside you. He held himself there for a moment, letting you get used to his size. “Fuck, you’re so tight for me.” He cooed, and you moaned out. That’s when he started to slow thrusts, slowly sliding in and out of you. The pace was slow but you could feel him so deeply inside of you, his head kissing your cervix. You wrapped your hands around his back, letting your nails softly scratch down the center between his wings. He nearly lost it when he felt you come close to the base of his left wing.

You could see his wings twitching behind him, shuttering with each thrust he put into you. “C-Can I touch them?” You moaned softly out to him. He whined as he felt you tighten around his length. “Please, touch my- ahh fuck.” Was all he managed to get out because you buried your finger into his wings right after “please” left his mouth. He was losing it above you, your release coming quicker as he moaned out to you. “You’re going to make me cum...fuck.” He moaned against your ear, you wrapped your leg around his waist. “Cum baby, please cum inside me. I want to feel it.” You moaned back.

Keigo hissed, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came to his high. He slipped his hand between both of you, rubbing hard circles against your clit. It threw you over the edge once more, clamping down on his shaft. He shuttered, moaning as he felt you milk him for everything he had. He was panting, trying to keep himself up so he didn’t crush you with his weight. You placed a kiss on his cheek, smiling up at him. He was still fully inside you, looking over your face. “You’re everything to me, I want you for the rest of my life. I want you to have my children, be my soulmate until we take our last breaths.” He said breathlessly.

You smiled up at him, thinking about the life you can have with him. You nodded at him, pulling him down to kiss him. “Then give me your children, Keigo. I am already your soulmate, and I would love to bare your children.” You said against his lips. That’s all Keigo needed before he started to thrust into you again. The rest of the night was feverish love making, Keigo was going to go until there was nothing left in his balls. To make sure you were fully bred by him, marking you as his for the rest of your lives. You couldn’t think of a time you were perfectly happy with being alive.

Sadly a few weeks later, Keigo had to go back. The city was getting worse by the day, his wings and body had fully healed. He promised he was going to pull a few strings to get you out of the cabin, out of the Comission to bring you home with him. He visited as much as he could, always keeping in contact with you and making sure you were doing great. You missed him so much, but you knew that it was only temporary. You’d wait a thousand life times if it meant you could be with Keigo again.

Four months had passed, Keigo hadn’t been able to visit for a month. He was sent on countless missions, keeping him busy at all times. You understood, it didn’t bother you because he still called you daily. You were sitting out on the porch, softly rubbing your belly as you watched the sunset. Footsteps coming from your right, you looked over to meet those beautiful golden eyes for the first time in a while. You smiled, slowly standing up. Keigo looked over you, you seemed to be glowing. A bit a fullness in your cheeks, you had a oversized sweatshirt on but he heard it.

He hear a little heartbeat along with yours, tears coming to his eyes as he rushed over to you. You embraced him, holding him as he softly cried into your neck. You already knew he knew, he was happy that everything he ever wanted in life with you was coming true. He put his hand over your stomach, feeling how full it was. You looked up at him with loving eyes. Kissing him while the sunset behind you. He did it, he pulled the strings to bring you back with him. Even if he didn’t, he was going to bring you back with him regardless.

He was going to give you and his child all that he had, and nothing was going to stop him from doing this. He had his mate, the love of his life, and a child he was going to give the world. Keigo always thought he had something missing in his life, but he was complete when he found you.

[gayfrenchtoast]

Okay fine we're doing this. I havent read the books and I'm probably not going to I've only seen the movies so I'm sorry if anything I say is contradictory or has already been stated.

So! Descendants 3 was kinda shit and I dont like it but especially because of the ending because everybody was like "oh yeah island is open and we're all happy with no worries or implications about free villains or people being spiteful about being imprisoned for years!" In fact if anything they joked about those things.

The island is basically its own culture, I can't say how long it's been around, long enough for some almost adult kids to be about and to develop a kind of community.

The Isle is a place of poverty, people are dirty and on the street, eveyone steals from each other and most people don't put much effort into appearance upkeep (personal or of the sourounding area) not because of laziness or being "evil" but because they clearly don't have time or luxury to do such things or possibly even the clean water. Does the Isle have clean water?? How to they get electricity??? Someone tell me!

Another thing that I've noticed is easy to see but is not much explicitly said is the unique style of those on the Isle. As previously stated they don't have much but those who have the most "power" and such on the Isle are the best example of this As they have the most colourful outfits. However these outfits are often made out of patches and ripped things put together, even salvaged things like nets and chains as we can see on thing like Uma and Harry's outfits in D3 they make the best of what they've got and they do fantastic because their outfits are intricate and detailed and just tell you everything you need to know about them. Which is why it's a damn s h a m e when the original VK's ajust their style to be more like Auradon's. That's not an improvement! Be proud of where you came from!! It's like they forgot what it was like being on the Isle in D3!

Moving on, here's something that was touched on in D2 but not enough. Equality. On the Isle there is basically equal opportunity as in saying everything is shit and nome cares what gender and presumably what sexuality you are as long as you can work. Sexism is shown to be almost casual in aurodon from the looks of it, Chad makes sexist comments and litterally none else says anything or seems to see anything wrong with it except Jay who caves to pressure from peers and expectations. He does redeem himself because he's from the isle and he knows you shouldn't give a shit about anyone's gender or anything. If they can do something and ask to be included you give them that opportunity. The sexism is also implied in the way that the rule book has men written specifically in the first place and that it has taken until then for anyone but boys to be allowed on any kind of sports team. We never see it! It seems to be the hetronormative veiw where the boys do sport and girls do cheerleeding and other genders? What other genders? Never heard of that? BAD AURADON!! I bet there's so many trans folk on the island just living their lives, thinking Aurodon is the better place and not knowing that it's a cis het filled nightmare.

Okay no I'm headcannoning now, if their are now a bunch of Isle kids at auradon prep they find it fucking aweful the way all these preppy royals are treating them and make the first LGBT club in Auradon. There is lots of pushback and they get bullied a fuck ton for making themselves the most prominent queer folk in the school until a fight breaks out and the club demand that they should be treated better, taking all the evidence to fairy godmother who is very hesitant because COME ON she's never been that great she is biased to Auradon kids and if putting away those in the Isle is brought up she is all on it, she is jelly spined about doing anything against the royal kids. So the kids are like "Fine, if you won't help us we'll take this to the King himself!" Well mainly the queer mom's of the group (you know the ones I'm talking about) who lead the others and protect the anxious queers as they storm to Ben at his fucking locker and demand an audience because they are being harassed and bullied and none is doing anything. Ben had no idea there was even a LGBT club (too busy ig) and is gassed there is one for a moment before he's like "wait people are harassing you?" So Bisexual King Ben gets his lovely Bi wife and they start coming to club meetings and investing in the pins and stuff the club makes. Most club members are pleased but the queer mom's are apprehensive that this will help until some assholes come to the club to do their usual bullying only to find King and Queen Beast themselves siting there with rainbow bracelets and bi pins and all trying to have a nice old time eating their fucking cupcakes what the fuck are yall doing? The bullying dies down quick once they realise it ain't gonna fly, the other OG VK's that hear about this become members and very protective over their queer children. Did I mention Dizzy and Ceila are a part of the club? They're girlfriend's. Celia is one of the queer moms. Harry becomes one of the biggest protectors over the group as the pan dad. He's been going around snogging everyone and anyone wholl snog him everyone already knew he was queer they just didn't have the balls to try and bully him over it as much as they bullied the lil club members. But now Harry can often be seen in jackets and shit with pan and general queer patches and pins and running around with his gay children yelling "MOVE WE'RE GAY!!" He totally calls them his queer crew. Anyway as a result lots of queer royals start coming out of the woodwork, obvs Lonnie is one of them, and the club eventually serves to bring members of Auradon and the Isle close together.

Where was I? Yada yada auradon expects girls to be pretty princesses and boys to be brave knights or dashing princes. It's shit and should stop being portrayed as good. Moving on!

Food! One of the things we'll established in all movies is that the food of the Isle is shit compared to food of Auradon. The Isle has no fresh fruit which likely means its almost impossible for things to grow there which is fair because again there doesn't seem to be much fresh water and there are always clouds overhead so no sun. Maybe there is some people trying really hard to grow stuff but the general attitude of the Isle seems to be "there is no time for that" and fruits are forgotten so much that the VK's litterally don't knownwhat they are when they come across them. That and anything containing sugar. Actually it's mention by Dizzy and Celia that they enjoy the fact that the cake dosent have dirt or flies so basically food there is terrible. We don't see much food on the Isle but what we do see seems to be beans, eggs, chips and shellfish. Basically protine and carbs that can be easily stored and produced. To be fair beans are kidna good for you but they're likely a sign that if they get any imports from the mainland it is canned stuff. Prison food. There's probably some chef villain that is trying their best to make good food out of the shit but honestly the Isle dwellers should be angry that they've been deprived of good food for so long not happy they're finally been given decency.

Moving on, music! Auradon dosent have nearly as many musical numbers it seems, the Isle songs have a distinct style, to them, the villains that basically "founded" the place were masters of the dramatic songs (with backup or solo) so banging music is basically ingrained in the music's culture, even for battle as we see with the fight between Mal and Uma in D3. Meanwhile Auradon seems to have mainly romance and "I want" songs. Even Audrey's villain song is basically an I want song.

Okay let's talk about the Villains. We've established that the VK's are not inherently bad. However not all of them can be totally good and there are legit OG Villains just kinda chillin on the Isle. They've obviously lost quite a bit of their power, motivation and sanity (isolation will do that to ya as they lost everything and the VKs know no different) but deadass? They were bad guys. You can try to rehabilitate them sure but you've basically just let them free roam, they could make a runner and you wouldn't get the chance. They were also shitty patents which is brushed over/joked about in the interaction between Carlos and...man I feel bad I forgot her name deadass their relationship seemed to come out of nowhere in the second film she didn't seem interested in them at all and friendzoned them multiple times I'm pretty sure Disney did that becaue queer kids were relating to Carlos and headcanoning them as queer (which they deffinatly are) but deadass their mom is an attempted animal murderer and has hurt her child as we can see from how they're afraid of her and her rhetoric and yet it's "haha I'm afraid to meet your ma!" "Me too cus im a dog! Lol!" Fuuuuck offfffff

I think I'm running out of thoughts so here's a last one for now; with the magical barrier down a bunch of magical Villains kids should be coming out for the woodwork. We know Mal has magic basically stored in her so it's is possible, she technically doesn't need the spellbook to do magic it is just inherent to her. So with the diverse range of people from the isle there are deffinatly magic folk in there. Actually if we're following Disney movie law I saw something mentioning Jay being half Genie and yeah! He should be half Genie! Jafar got turned into a Genie he's probably only human because of the barrier! Oh also Ben should be able to go beast on command as long as he had a better beast form than he did in the movies. And give him back the beard and fangs like fuck you he looked so much better

Okay I'm done for now

[obislittleone]

Intelligent Insanity

17/?

Jerome Valeska x Wayne!reader

Okay so this series doesn't have a whole ton of chapters left. I know for a fact that we're more than halfway through at least....

Series Summary: Two lives can start very differently, but it's never the beginning that makes the story. It's the the journey the lives take that eventually bring them down the same path.

Chapter Warnings: more mentions of death, talk of suicide

The Wayne family lawyers showed up at about 12 pm the next afternoon, and it had been confirmed that my blood contained DNA that matched with the late Thomas and Martha Wayne. As if things couldn't get any worse, now the family I'd always dreamed of having, died not even two years ago. Of course, there was still the little brat spawn Bruce, who would be my brother.

When the lawyers arrived, the looked disgusted at the sight of me, and if they had it their way, they would do nothing to defend my honor. Still, they had a reputation to uphold. The best law firm in Gotham couldn't exactly pass me by, especially if I was a blood relative of their late clientele. I was the offspring of the finest people to ever walk this horrid city, and for that, these men would do everything they can to keep me from getting transferred back to Arkham.

I was released from the police station at around 3 pm, and out into the custody of a rehabilitation therapist. He told me he would be my personal caretaker for the next few months until I was 'back on my feet'. Whatever the hell that meant. There was no getting up for me. I would never be able to move on from what has happened. Just because I'm suddenly a rich girl doesn't mean all my problems go away. Infact, now they multiply, because instead of going back to rotting at arkham like I should be doing, I'm going to have to put an effort into being a normal human again. They didn't even know how to communicate with me most of the time, how did they expect to make me normal?

My therapist's name is Thomas, and he was chosen specifically for the fact that he knows sign language. He hasn't ever dealt with someone in my condition, but apparently he seems qualified because he can actually understand what I'm saying.

I haven't yet been to my first therapy session, for the last day and a half, I'd been settling into this rehab. It reminded me of Arkham in a few ways. It was much cleaner and the people here were much more kind, but as far as schedules went, it was nearly the same. The food here was better, though.

At night they locked us crazy folk in a separate compound, away from the sane patients. I supposed I probably looked like I should have been sent back to Arkham, and truthfully, I might have been happier back there. I hadn't any real friends there, but it felt more like home to me than any other place I had learned to live in. Perhaps it was a specific someone who made it feel like home.... but he was gone. I'd never feel the comfort of his homing presence again.

The day of my first therapy session, two hours were spent in a small office. Even though my therapist had been chosen completely on the account of the fact that he knew sign language, specifically finger spelling, he seemed uninterested in my case. The first time I sat on the couch in his office, all he did was talk about himself the whole time. It wasn't all on him though, because I refused to even spell to him my thoughts. I didn't want this know it all to be too deep in my head. I justed wanted to do the time and hopefully he released from this place.

The second session I went to, I noticed he also refused to speak, simply staring at me until I became uncomfortable. At this, he finally raised his voice.

"You don't have to say a word.... but if you don't sign something to me by the end of the hour, I'll keep you here for another one." He said, crossing his arms over his body and leaned back in his chair. I knew he was just doing his job, but I didn't trust him. Trusting anyone was very hard for me after the stunt that Galavan pulled.

I think about it everyday, how I could have stopped it. I might have prevented Jerome's death if I had been quicker on my feet. I wouldn't even be here right now if I had only taken a step.

I glanced up at the sound of a pen going on paper, and saw that while he was writing, he'd been watching my hand. I ceased my motions, knowing I accidentally just spelled out my thoughts in front of him.

He took a moment to space out the letters he'd written down, reading them back when he was done.

"You shouldn't blame yourself. If you'd tried to intervene it could've been you." He attempted to make me feel better about my situation, although it did nothing of the sorts.

'It should have been me..." my fingers scrambled away once more, but it was intentional this time.

"Why do you feel that way? Don't you think your life is important?" I could tell he was going through a rehearsed series of questions now, for he mustn't truly think my life is important. I was apart of the maniax, and therefore everyone in this damn city was required to hate me.

'It doesn't matter. I would still trade my life for his in a heartbeat.' I looked down and stared at my feet, my eyes watering up a little with each second passed.

He took a moment to read back the letters, spacing them into words before he contemplated what I had actually said.

"If you could help me understand... I just-" he pasued, searching for the right words as to not rile me up, or worse, wind me back down into not speaking again. "This boy was a murderer, capable of horrific acts... what made you so drawn to him?"

'I'm a murderer, too...'

He sighed, seeing my hand in perfect time, not even having to write it down.

"Your record shows that the only person you've ever killed was your uncle. You aren't really like him at all."

This joker had no idea what or who he was talking about. Jerome was not a killer. He was crazy, but not a killer. He was a brilliant mind that could have changed Gotham. He was abused his whole life, just the way I was, and yet he still was always able to hold a smile. He wasn't a bad person, he never was.... he just had a bad backstory, and apparently in this city, that's what makes a villain these days.

I tried my best to keep calm, to find a suitable answer for this babbling bafoon before he asked me again.

'You can't act like you know me.... or him. We are the same.' I let a tear escape me, but it didn't travel far before I swiped it away.

"Okay, that's fine. We can move on..." he skimmed over the makeshift list he'd written down on the side of his notes, heaving a breath before looking back up. "You obviously felt an immense attachment to this boy, how did losing him affect you?"

Even I could see he was cringing at the question. I wasn't sure he'd thought this through, but for some reason I was actually keen to answer.

'I can't speak.... whenever I was usually with him I could talk till days passed. Without him, I'm speechless. Everything in my body constantly aches, and my surroundings are so dull. Losing him caused me to lose the will to live... had I not been put here I might have....' I gripped my right hand with my left one, dropping it from spilling out any other information. Oversharing was something I couldn't quite control when I started fingerspelling again.

"You don't have to be ashamed to say it here... you might have killed yourself?" He asked, leaning forward so that I would meet his eyeline. His features were full of pity and sympathy. I felt pathetic. I was a force to be reckoned with, a crazed maniac who had caused havoc and destruction. I didn't need his sympathy.

When he noticed my hand was perfectly still, with not even a fidget to indicate I would answer, he sighed, trying to make me feel better.

"You don't have to be scared." He set down his notes, hoping to have a moment where he could at least break down the wall I was putting up.

'I'm not scared. I'm not scared of anything.... I am capable of much scarier things.' I spelled out slowly, wanting him to know how dangerous I truly was. If he didn't stop looking at me like I was a kicked puppy I was going to lose it.

"I don't believe that. I believe you were forced to go along with certain schemes that weren't your choice." He suggested. This loser clearly had his mind made up about me, and to this I had to roll my eyes and sigh.

'You can't see me for what I am, because you are not like me. J saw me for what I am, and now he's gone. That is my only issue." I spelled angrily, my face wasn't one that reflected my words though... it was a pained expression. I felt like crying, but I wouldn't do it again today...

He looked very focused, as if he were trying to concoct some sort of idea in his head as the gears turned within it.

"Most people in your situation are able to heal faster when they have closure. They do this by visiting a grave or memorial and conversing with their lost loved one. We have escorts for certain therapeutical treatments outside the establishment, perhaps it could be arranged for you to be taken to Jerome's final resting place." He spoke softly and carefully, trying his best to do his job without settimg me off again. I understood it was his living to try and help me, but I sure as hell was going to make it difficult... why should I make it easy?

'He has no resting place.' I dropped my head. Even though I hadn't actually been told this for a fact, I knew that it was true.

"Are you sure? I could contact the GCPD and ask about it." He kept on with this stupid idea, even though it wouldn't be possible if he tried.

'They couldn't care less where he ended up....they probably threw him in a dumpster for all I know." I replied, my finger's movements were not as sharp, and a bit muddled together.

Even thinking about the words I'd just spelled... imagining how the cops couldn't even care about him enough to ship him off to the morgue, put tears in my eyes. I didn't stop them this time... I needed to get it out.

"I'm very sorry... perhaps we could make you your own little memorial here. Just something so you can talk to him and perhaps even begin the healing process."

It took me a moment to realize what this actually entailed, but figuring that perhaps I could come to have possession over some fond objects of his, and maybe even a photograph made me quick to agree.

'Okay...'

Tags

@gabile18 @i-sneeze-to-appease @sarbear7999