#radioactive craze

[small-brain-witch-bitch]

So Alastor lived during that radioactive craze, didn't he?

Do you think he would've been skeptical about this new trend or do you think he'd be like "Radioactive toothpaste?! Neat! That has the word radio in it!"

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny wakes up in a cage in the Batcave as a human and thinks to himself “well that’s not a good sign.”

Big bad bat encountered him in the caves near the Batcave by finding him half dunked in the Lazarus pits under Gotham during a routine check. He put the boy in a cage as a precaution, but was otherwise planning on investigating then returning him to his rightful place.

Danny does not know that.

He proceeds to search his pockets (phase his hand into his body disguised as reaching into his pockets) and pulls out a tool kit, systematically disassembles, exits, then reassembles the cage.

And walks out.

Now the bats are hunting the streets for this engineering escape artist while Danny is just hanging out at a newsstand reading up on the universe Clockwork had sent him to check out.

"Woah! What happened here?" Duke gasps from the staircase. He is wearing his school uniform, but upon checking his backpack, he realizes his chemistry textbook is missing, likely somewhere in the Batcave after his latest monitor duty.

He had been multitasking by shooting out questions to the rest of the bats as they patrolled. Due to an injured wrist, Duke had been benched from his regular day shift (Jason offered to cover for him), and watching screens had been the only way Bruce had been willing to let him participate.

That quickly became boring, however, since Oracle was much faster than he was, and Duke had a tough time focusing on screens. He's never been one to enjoy too much screen time - he didn't have the attention span for it.

This meant that Duke had not been in the cave for the past three nights, after he struck a deal with Bruce to let him catch up on some much-needed rest instead, provided he could continue his civilian work during the day.

Imagine his surprise to find the Batcave in disarray, with almost everything taken apart, piece by piece, including the Batcomputer and the dinosaur. Bruce, Damian, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Cass were currently attempting to gather the pieces and reassemble everything, which seemed hard given all the little pieces that had shattered about.

"Some kid with a screwdriver," Jason grunted, holding up various nails towards the light. In front of the anti-hero were five distinct piles of nails and bolts, each separated by type and size, which he carefully sorted from a large bucket.

"What?"

Tim looked up from a mountain of wires, some of which were dropped over his shoulders, around his head, and a few were entangled with his leg, as he tried to untangle everything. He looked as crazed as he did the year he decided he was going to put up all the Christmas lights by himself, only to realize how large Wayne Manor really was. "Two nights ago, we found a civilian unconscious in cave sector T-Y13. He was practically radioactive with Lazarus pits water, so Bruce had the bright idea to put him in a cage as a precaution. The civillain woke up while Bruce was away so he couldn't explain that he was not kidnapped, realized he was in a cage, and deassimbled it with a tool set he pulled from his ass-"

"Tim. Laugauge" Dick scolds, leanign over metal tubes to cover Damian's ears. The twelve-year-old huffs, but doesn't shake off Dick's hands as he stares at a different buckets of lightbults, sorting them like Jason was doing to the nails.

It was a little darker than what Duke was used to.

"-And then, he decided to reassemble the cage once he was out." Tim continued as if he weren't interrupted, nodding his head to the only part of the cave that looked normal. The contamination unit seemed to shine in the untouched spotlights. "Then the civilian had the bright idea to take apart everything in the cave. He systematically disassembled everything and mixed up the pieces. The only things he left alone were the railings!"

"It's pretty impressive," Bruce praises. He was checking over technology boards with a critical eye. A headlight strapped to his forehead shines brightly on the pieces as he smiles. "I wonder where he is now."

"If he has any brains, he's probably applying for a position with a pit crew in NASCAR," Cass laughs, picking up different boards of metal. "He took the whole place apart in less than twenty minutes."

"He even got the Batpens" Dick sighs. "Why was he so passive-aggressive about pulling out the pen's springs?"

"If I woke up in a cage, after unfair imprisonment, I would also cause my captors as much grief as possible," Damain comments casually. "We are lucky he decided to leave nothing harmful behind."

"He just took everything else!" Steph's voice calls out from a dark patch of the cave. Duke knows it's in the direction of the showers and the changing room. "Does anyone see any shower heads over there? The kid took them off every shower!

"I have one!" Cass calls back, holding up an item in her hand. "Are any pipes missing? There are five long metal cylinders that I can't figure out what they are for."

"No, he left the pipes along, but I think he took the mirrors and the door."

"Which door?" Bruce yells back. There is a moment of silence before Steph replies.

"All of them! "

"Of course. That's what these ones are for." Jason says in an Ah-ha voice, holding up a few black bolts. "They're the ones from the shower heads!"

Duke stares, then sighs. He lets his backpack slide off his shoulders, landing on the stairs with a thump. Looks like he's calling in sick to school again.

Rolling up his sleeves, he moves over to Cass and helps her lift the long cylinders she had mentioned. "Do we know anything about this civilian?"

"Before he took the Batcomputer apart, we were able to get that he wasn't in any of the local government records. He isn't from Gotham or this state." Bruce says while carefully placing pieces back on a large computer board with a pair of tweezers. "My guess, he's not going to be in any system, either."

"Why?"

Bruce looks up, his eyes shining. "His DNA matched eighty-five percent with Themyscira's genetic make-up. No proof of cloning either. We may just have a genius male Themysciran on our hands."

Duke didn't like how excited Bruce sounded when he made that statement. He opens his mouth to snap, "You can't adopt him, Bruce!"

It's validating that his voice wasn't the only one that said it, but that it echoed by literally everyone else in the cave. Bruce purses his lips but doesn't agree or disagree with the accusation as he turns back to his computer board.

Duke hears him mutter under his breath, but he's too far away to figure out what he said.

"How long do you think this will take us to put back together?" He asks Cass as they compare metal pieces- he's holding a triangle-looking thing that he can't figure out where it came from.

She kicks aside a circular metal slate, raising a brow at him, then nodding her head toward the left side of the cave. Duke turns to look in the direction of the third Robin, who was wiggling around.

"What are you!?" Tim screams at a blue wire, shaking it like he was strangling someone's neck. Somehow, in the time Duke looked away from him, Tim had his right arm tied to his left knee, with a red wire thread running through his shirt, and his right leg was no longer visible because the rest of the wire pile had consumed it.

"Oh, so it's going to be a few hours," Duke sighs as Cass nods sadly.

"Does anyone have any eyes on the light switches?" Dick yells out. "Damian and I almost have all the pieces to turn the lights back on."

"Oh gods -He took the lockers!" Steph screams in angst. "I had a snack stash in there!"

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 6

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 4.5k words

Chapter Warnings: language, fluff, smut implied

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

The Men of Letters bunker was full of many wondrous and wacky things. From weapons to ancient texts, to objects that looked like they’d been pulled right out of a sci-fi movie. 

Some were dangerous, plenty were extremely so, and others, Dean wouldn’t touch even if he was wearing a lead-lined radioactive safety suit. Screw ten-feet poles. 

Sam would say the same about the vast collection of handwritten reports and records the place had, too, but he would be wrong. Dean did, in fact, read on occasion. And it wasn’t just in times of researching for cases or when he had the mark. 

Sometimes he simply got bored.

It’s how he’d stumbled on one particular document regarding mated pairs from another world and learned that not all of Chuck’s creations had heats, ruts and knots like they assumed. Although he should’ve known that without reading it in a file. He always knew there was something funny about the doppelgangers in the Fiat besides the other Sammy’s man-bun. 

Douchebuggery aside, somewhere in God’s vast universe, there were humans who weren’t categorised by secondary gender and thus alpha males who didn’t have bulbous muscles at the base of their dicks. 

Yup. There was at least one Dean Winchester whose junk was the same width the whole way along, except for the tip. That perv Sinclair, who’d written on the subject the most, had actually drawn a picture of one. Not his, per se, but some random guy’s. Dean hoped.

There were also no marks or claims. No soulmate’s even. Just straight up male and female pairs, shacking up together, sometimes casual, but when serious, showing off their unions with rings and a piece of paper. 

This world and its marriage thing sounded so much simpler in some ways. No marking meant no biting, and no knotting meant you could fuck off once you were done. That had to be convenient for one-night stands. 

Who’d complain about that?

But this society had another thing Dean remembered, and it was something that seemed to fit what the past two weeks had been like for him and you.

The honey-days period. 

At least, that sounded about right. He wasn’t about to reread the file again because the dick pick had scarred him for life.

Whatever the name was, after meeting four weeks prior, that was the stage he was at in his relationship with you, minus the swanky hotel and room service. 

Every moment you had been together had been spent well, together. And Dean hadn’t had enough. 

Was he whipped? Maybe. Obsessed? If that label satisfied Sammy, then sure. But as he looked down at you, lying satiated on top of him, he didn’t care, because the word that came to mind for him was happy. And the happiest he’d been in his life to date that he could recall.

He’d slept like a baby last night, and your wake-up call earlier had been awesome. Exactly what he needed after another long hunt away. 

His arms wrapped tighter around you, basking in the afterglow of your latest romp in the sheets. Not that they were anywhere nearby. One half had ended up tangled in his ankles, while the other was on the floor. 

He nuzzled his chin into your hair. The smell of cinnamon, a touch of apple and a nip of whisky from his lips, reminded him of his favourite dessert, and his mouth twitched. Those movies had gotten it right. If only his stomach wasn’t rumbling beneath you like a crazed animal, he might have gone in for a second helping.

He was starving. Wasting away to nothing and needing to do something about it real soon.

“What do you say I make us a big breakfast once we’ve cleaned up?” he asked. It wouldn’t be as fancy as room service, but he’d put in the extra effort for you. He knew how to whip up pancakes, bacon and eggs and would even add some fruit in it for you if it’s what you wanted. 

But who was he kidding? What he had in mind wasn’t for your benefit at all.

Still, he hoped you’d agree to it. While not heavy, your hips were pressing into his bladder, and taking a leak was fast becoming the top thing to do on his imaginary list.

“I think you mean lunch,” you mumbled.

Dean strained his neck to look at the alarm clock on his bedside. Fuck. It was close to twelve. No wonder he was feeling pangs from both organs. Normally, he’d be up and about by now. “I haven’t slept this late in a long time,” he said.

“Last I recall, you weren’t sleeping.” You chuckled and raised your head up to meet his eyes. The cool morning air rushed straight to his nipples, nipping at them, and yours, sending signals to his still deflating knot. 

Damn bunker was always cold. 

There must’ve been a few drops left of his release because he definitely felt a pulse at the root of his shaft and you quirked your brow.

“I just spent three days without you, sweetheart.” He shrugged. 

He’d missed you every second of them, too. Though, unlike the case in New Mexico, his insecurities had become more lax. 

You now had an anti-possession tattoo, and you knew how to shoot a pistol and shotgun, sort of. 

The revolver he kept under the war room table was a start. It was loaded, cocked and ready to use, which yes, he was well aware went against every piece of gun training his father and Bobby had ever taught him, but precaution was key. He needed to protect you, even when he wasn’t there to do so. 

“You just got home,” you said, finding a sudden interest in his own ink. “And you’ve been working a lot. How about you let me make something for you?” 

His fingers brushed through your hair, tucking the strands behind your ear that had fallen down. “Last I recall,” he said smugly, “you were working, too.”

“What? Reading text books. You and Sam had it all figured out.” 

You pushed away from the mattress and crawled back to sit upright. But his hands found your hips, and he stopped you from moving any further. He didn’t like your tone or the way you frowned. 

“We didn’t know we had to light it up,” he said, hoping praise was what you needed to hear. 

It was the truth, and he and Sam had been grateful. They could’ve spent longer away from home if you hadn’t found the solution. The damn thing, that still had no name, had similarities with vamps, but it still wouldn’t stay put, even after a machete to the neck and the rounds of lead and silver they blasted into its torso.

But you scoffed. “How often do you guys burn things?” 

Without hesitation, he opened his mouth to speak. Only you had him stumped. His brain had no words to counter with. 

They burned shit all the time, vengeful spirit or not. If they were ever in need of disposing of a body real quick, it was digging a hole and lighting her up, or finding a wood chipper. And it wasn’t like he had one floating around in Baby’s trunk. 

That answer wouldn’t help him or you, though, and there was more to this than you being upset about the method they’d used to get the job done.

He saw the pout, the subtle nod that you’d made your point, and the way your fingers continued to trace the lines of the pentagram on his chest. Any idiot could tell that something was wrong. He just needed to know what. 

You were his mate after all, with or without his claim, and his current bodily function issues aside, it was his duty to look out for your welfare, both emotional and physical. Yet, he was hesitant to open up whatever rabbit hole he was about to. 

Luckily, his inner Sammy was having a conniption. ‘Talk to her,’ it said. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions like you always do.’ 

And for once, rather than saying something stupid, he listened. “Is everything okay?” 

“I just—” You bit your lip. 

His stomach had decided it was the perfect time to gurgle in protest. 

“You know what, nevermind.” You patted him gently. “We should clean up. You haven’t eaten yet.” And you swung your leg off of him and moved to the edge of the bed.

Fuck. Guilt crept in on him. Something was bothering you, but things were getting desperate for his stomach and his plumbing, and the last thing he wanted to do was wet the bed, so ultimately, his own predicament won out. 

He sat up, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you down onto your back, catching you by surprise. Your squeal of delight telling him distraction was key.

Dean captured your lips with his, placing all of his feelings into it to soothe whatever was troubling you. Promising himself that he would work on fixing things as soon as the horde rumbling in his insides had ebbed. 

Sam had been busy himself that morning.

So far, he’d searched the web for anything resembling a case, and found nothing. He’d also gone for a run, taken a shower, and was finishing up in the bathroom when he received the text.

Where are you? It read.

He didn’t think much of the message. Why would he? 

It wasn’t unusual for Dean to use his phone rather than look for him. The bunker was large, after all. Three levels, multiple halls and passageways, and those were just the areas they’d discovered. Who knew how expansive a place could be when it had a giant telescope and a shooting range amongst other rooms?

While he found some interest in that stuff, Sam still prioritised cataloguing the library. Something he hoped to get you on board with, because Dean never helped him, and you had some experience with your former job.

He sighed as he picked up his phone to type out his response - My room. At least he would be when his brother arrived at his bedroom door. It wasn’t far away and Dean liked to go slow on rest days. Especially now with you around.

Unfortunately for Sam, however, he had misunderstood Dean’s intentions, and dawdling by account was the last thing he should’ve done. 

He took his time, putting his boots on, getting the socks into position so that the seams didn’t annoy his toes in the corners. He threw his dirty clothes in the hamper, making sure each piece was turned the right way out and separated. Finally, he returned his damp towel to the metal rung he kept it on, folding it just so that the edges lined up, and stepped out into the corridor with a wave of steam close behind him. 

Swivelling on his feet, he strolled back towards his room, continuing with his leisurely pace. 

He had not a care in the world.

That was until he rounded the curve and found himself in front of his brother, carrying you over his shoulder, and he did a double take.

“Sammy?” 

“Dude! What the hell.”

Unlike Dean, you had some shame and scrambled to make sure the sheet you’d been wrapped in covered your body, though you had done a fair job of that before Sam had run into you both, and he appreciated it.

He liked you. You seemed kind and sweet. Too good for Dean if he was honest, but he respected the soulmate thing and knew that for whatever reason, even if it was unknown, you already had a profound bond.

With Dean, however, he’d rather not have shared as much as what he was seeing. It was bad enough he’d heard things the past two weeks since returning from New Mexico, but this? “Please tell me you’re wearing something.” He sighed.

“Why’d you think I sent that message for?” Dean grinned, and Sam shook his head. 

“Because you were looking for me?”

“No.” His voice was higher than usual. “I wanted to know where you were. There’s a difference.”

Fucking hell. He may have been awake for a good six hours now, but it was still far too early for semantics, especially with Dean. “Well, here I am,” Sam said, his arms and chest jerking forward in frustration. 

“This ain’t your room.”

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. Why did he bother? It was days like these he wished he’d stayed at Stanford. Or left Dean alone to succumb to that djinn in Illinois. Either way, he would’ve saved himself some crap. “I was headed there!”

“Well, keep heading there. I gotta take a leak,” Dean said as he sped past. Your hands reached down, doing their best to cover the parts of him Sam didn’t want to see. 

“Sorry,” you mouthed, and he shook his head in return.

He knew he liked you. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to handle his brother with you around. Especially if what he’d just witnessed was about to become a regular occurrence.

Dean jiggled, flushed and flipped the lid. He was a courteous guy. And just maybe, had learnt his lesson a long time ago while living at Lisa’s. 

You were already in the shower waiting for him when he padded across the tiled floor to wash his hands.

You’d been quiet ever since he’d mentioned their recent case in Iowa. Quieter still when he’d made a joke about Sammy, having the personality of the Mountain despite being younger after he’d lied about where he was, and Dean was growing concerned. You normally laughed along with him about this stuff, and sure, it had been only four weeks of knowing you, but this was different to how you usually were around him.

Were you really upset that they’d ganked the last d-bag by lighting ‘em up in flames? Had you wanted to help more on the case? Did you want to, Chuck forbid, hunt with them?

Over his dead body. 

There was no way you’d ever take up that life. The guns and tattoo were only there as a precaution, nothing more, so he hoped there was another explanation.

But what else?

Your heat was due soon. 

Maybe this change in mood was a sign it was starting? 

‘You ain’t asking that,' he chuckled silently to himself. He didn’t have a death wish. Though he was screwed if this was going to become daily life for him.

He pushed those thoughts to the side. He was being a douchebag just thinking of them, and that wasn’t him. 

That belonged with man-bun Sammy and the version of him that wore dress shirts without a suit and tie. The guy was one good looking fella, he’d give him that, but Dean didn’t need a fancy-ass shirt to pull off the same amount of charm with you, or anyone else. He was like Swayze. Better with age.

He glanced over the reflection of his torso in the mirror, catching your silhouette behind the glass screen sitting just above his shoulder.

The room was quiet besides the shower and splashing noises made as you washed. There was no sound of tears or smell of them, and he took that as a good sign. Great, when you smiled warmly at him as he entered the cubicle with you.

“Better?” You squinted through the stream.

“I am now,” he said as he stepped closer to steal the warm water from you, earning himself a wet slap and you a cheeky grin.

His hardened chest pressed against your soft one, leaving barely any room for the spray to flow. 

There was something sexy about slippery skin. There was something sexy about your skin. Who was he kidding?

Still feeling playful, Dean’s hand moved to perch on your hip. He leaned in as if he were about to plant a kiss on your lips, but swooped behind you last second, reaching for his body wash on the inbuilt shelf. 

That earned him a firmer smack. One he revelled in. Violence was never the answer. He’d made that clear when he screwed with Dick. It told him his shenanigans were working, though. 

That, and you hit like a girl.

He caught your arm and poured a generous amount of soap into your palm, proceeding to use your hand to wash himself. 

“I need to teach you how to throw a punch,” he said as he draped your fingers around his neck first, then down over both shoulders and pectorals. All guided by him, and his even bigger grin.

“Why? I’m not a hunter.” You scoffed.

You weren’t interested in being one, either, by the sounds of it, thank fuck. 

Your hand pulled against his movements. “You thought I wanted to be?”

How did you do that? “I was worried you might.”

“What made you think that?” 

Now that he was being asked, he didn’t have the answer. “I, ah… I dunno. Something’s bothering you ‘bout the last hunt.”

You took a step back and hit the wall with a soft slap, looking at him as if he’d just told you werewolves weren’t real, even though you very much knew they were. He’d ganked one in between the witches and their most recent case. 

“So you thought I wanted to join you? It…” You shook your head. “I thought you were hungry?” 

You would be wrong. He had lost his stomach minutes ago and now had Famine banging around in there instead. But he didn’t tell you that. You’d think he was crazier than you already did if he started bringing up the apocalypse. That was a discussion for another time when he brought up their not so straightforward relationships with God and the King of Hell.

“I am.” He laced his fingers between yours and pulled you back to the centre of the shower, watching as the spray hit your shoulders. “But it can wait. There’s something you’re not telling me here, and I need you to tell me.”

Your head lowered, drawing him down, too. 

Bad move. The water now ran over your breasts to your pert nipples, the curves creating tiny waterfalls that captivated his attention with the way droplets pooled at the edges. He had to swallow hard.

“I want to make you breakfast,” you said.

Uh… The statement would’ve made him revert back to eye level, but when you bounced on the heels of your feet, it didn’t help his resolve. The words, though. What? “You wanna cook?” You cooked all the time.

“No.” You shot back up. “Well, yeah. That came out wrong… I want to…help more…around the bunker. You know, earn my keep.”

Earn your keep.

Do more?

“You do plenty around here.” You’d been cooking for them almost every meal since you’d moved in. Organised the kitchen and kept on top of the use by dates in the fridge. He hadn’t drunk off-milk or been in the laundry room in over a month. Maybe even two for the latter. But he wasn’t about to admit that.

“No, I don’t.” You shook your head. “Not enough. I know hunting doesn’t exactly pay the bills, but you and Sam go out there and save people, and here I am, making the occasional meal for you guys when you get home.”

Your hand came up to his stomach and smoothed over the creases that highlighted where his muscles lay beneath. “I wanna help more,” you said. “Dick took all my—” 

Dean smirked at your usage of your ex’s nickname. That was his ‘endearment,’ not yours. 

“Don’t do that.” You swatted him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it. I felt you smile.”

You did? Well, that was new. But he didn’t question you. He had no heart to. Your mind was on a one-way ticket to that spark he knew. 

“…Ritchie took everything I have, and now I don’t have a job to help pay my way.” You reached for the soap and squeezed out another dollop onto your palm and started running it over his body once more. “I can’t even help you with your cases. I just…don’t want you to think I’m mooching off of you guys.”

So that’s what was wrong.

Dean had forgotten all about that dickbag bleeding you dry. Too happy and lost in the life he’d been building with you to realise that your baggage was still weighing you down.

“It ain’t mooching if there’s nothing to mooch, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist while his hand came up to cradle your head. 

“But I’m used to working. Contributing. And I’m going stir crazy not doing that.”

Dean sighed. There was that guilt again, only now he had cause for it. He and Sam always had each other, but they were leaving you here for days at a time, with no transport, no respite, no purpose, while only his phone calls kept you company. 

It’s no wonder you were struggling.

This place must’ve felt like a prison to you, compared to the life you’d had, even with that abusive fucktard. It was still cold in the warmer months. Creepy, as you’d complained about when they were in New Mexico, and you had no nest here, or space to call your own so you could make one. 

Dean could relate to all of that if he was honest, minus the nesting thing. There’d been times in his life when he felt frustrated because he couldn’t do jack. A broken leg. Heart problems because of some crazy-ass ghost. Sammy in hell. Okay, that was a little out of the present perspective… All in all, though, he didn’t know what to do to help you.

That was until you said, “How about you let me make you breakfast?” with a smile, and while he was perplexed once again by how the fuck you’d done that, he kissed you on your forehead, and smiled against your skin in return.

“We’ll do it together,” he whispered. And then grabbed your hand and moved it to wash his ass cheek.

Dean fumbled through the contents of the fridge. His fingers and ears were now at risk of frostbite on account of how long he’d been searching in there for. "Where’d you say it was?” 

“Top shelf,” you said over the sizzling of bacon in the pan. 

He’d looked there already and there was no fucking butter. 

He raised his head and pushed past the milk, juice and whatever the hell vegetable Sam had blended into liquid this time. If smoothies weren’t meant to be green, they probably weren’t meant to be brown either. 

Yes, it could’ve been melted chocolate…

But it wasn’t. 

Cocoa, or anything else associated with its candy form, did not smell like the contents of his stomach after cheap whiskey. Nor did it have lumps. Or take on that specific colour.

Gross.

And no closer to finding the damn butter.

He shut the fridge with a sigh louder than the metal doors creaking and went to the pantry. Oil would have to do. Surely they had some of that lying round the bunker. The kind he used for Baby’s engine was a no go, obviously, but he wouldn’t say no to blessed pancakes if he got desperate enough to take the holy stuff from her trunk. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked as he scoured the open shelving.

“Wasn’t any.” There was, however, canola or olive oil, and he picked them up and turned around to show them to you. “Which—”

Your hands were already on your hips. 

You scrunched your nose and channelled your inner Samantha before spinning on your heels, searching for the ingredient yourself.

It was no surprise you found it straight away, but in his defence, Dean hadn’t expected it to be in the container Jody had ‘leant’ them a few months ago. The last time he’d seen the thing, there was gravy inside that was definitely gravy and not something he questioned as chocolate.

“Where’d you find that?”

“In the fridge. Top shelf.” You deadpanned.

“Smart ass.” He grinned, but pulled you close anyway when he stepped up next to you. “I didn’t know you’d put it in that.” 

His chin dipped down to your shoulder and nuzzled his initials hidden beneath the fabric. The hiss you made between your teeth brought a smirk to his lips and a familiar pang to his own body. 

“It keeps better. Though I had to clean it out first. I dunno what was in there, but it wasn’t edible.”

He moved to your mating gland and chuckled into your skin, peppering kisses over the sensitive flesh. “And you thought you weren’t helping ‘round here.”

“Cleaning out Tupperware with a living ecosystem growing inside of it does not make up for a nine to five,” you stated.

Though he heard you, his mind focused on the change in your pulse that had taken on a life of its own. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was pulling his into a similar rhythm.

Your skin was hot to touch, warming the surrounding air, and everything started to make sense. “How much longer till your heat, ‘mega?” (And here he swore he wouldn’t be a douchebag.)

Your “Hmm?” was distant, and he grazed his front teeth over your neck, drawing away to find lust filled eyes turning to meet him. 

“Do I need to stop takin’ the suppressants?” His brows wagged, hopeful and just as driven as you had been lost in his attentions. 

“It might be a good idea,” you said, patting his cheek. “Probably best to think about your poor brother too…shit.” Your focus returned to the bacon that was fast becoming a little too crispy even for him. When it spat back at you, you flinched. “Well, excuse me for not letting you burn,” you directed to the pan.

He rubbed a placating hand over your rear, then got to work whipping up a batch of pancakes. It was now past noon and while he may have been hungry before, he was close to eating the raw ingredients he churned the spoon through.

‘Sammy?’ his mind repeated. He’d rather not. But Dean recognised you had a point after this morning.

If things were reversed, there’s no way he’d be sticking around during your first heat. It was surprising Sam hadn’t lost his cool with him earlier, and he wondered if he should send his brother on a fake milk run. All he needed to do was find a suspicious enough murder a few states over. Maybe get Donna or Jody involved and… 

Dean looked down at the butter in the container. Another wider grin spread across his face.

“What?” you asked. Not moving an inch.

“How many days do you think we got?”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Ahhhhh - any guesses what's happening next?

I started to gain a rather large interest in the concept of nesting as I worked through this story, and the first little signs of it are coming up next chapter (it's in the preview below). As someone who's made a career in retail, it was only natural that my sales brain came up with stores having nesting departments, and it will feature again if you catch my drift.

I won't give too much away, but I'm on the edge of my own seat waiting to give you guys the next chapter to the point I’m considering uploading it earlier! Are you guys ready for him to claim her?

Until then ❤️

Chapter 7: Honeydayimg 04/04

“Are you sure we need all this stuff?” he asked as you passed another couple with only half the things you had.

“This coming from the guy who had two slices of pie on top of his burger at lunch?” 

Point taken, he supposed, but you’d eaten just as much. You’d had more than him, come to think of it. Lunch, breakfast, the night before. So when you patted his stomach, and he looked down at you grinning at him, he couldn’t help but return a knowing smile.

“You’ll thank me later,” you said.

He knew he would. In more ways than one. 

Still on your way to the front, you passed the nesting department located opposite the cash registers. Of course, it was just another convenient ploy to gain some extra impulse buys from naïve omegas who hadn’t realised they needed that new blanket or another stuffy until they saw the giant pile of fluff.

To Dean’s distaste, you were also won over by the gimmick and he was pulled along for the ride. 

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

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@hobby27 @aylacavebear

If you'd like to be tagged in this series or any of my other works, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

[kaynes-missing-socks]

The early 1930s were the tail end of the radium craze, a period of time where radium was seen as a cure-all drug and put in everything. Maybe Arthur is Like That because he's hopped up on radium supplements and insanely radioactive.

[lexicorp]

*plays God's Plan by Mother Mother-*

[edit: they have a Playlist now]

Sunstorm has been lingering in my brain aaannnd now theyve escaped containment sjfnskvnd

bit of lore rant under cut

So as relative standard, Sunstorm is a clone of Starscream made by Shockwave. They were presented to TC and Warp as a replacement for Star (Starscream gets rekt and peeps think he's ded for a while), made to be the idealized, perfect weapon. Shockwave had created them really as his beta test for his project of cultivating the next evolution of Cybertronians. He viewed Sunny as a partial success, given that their radioactive spark became an apparent problem quite quickly. Shockwave was still satisfied with their skill, resilience, and behavioral programming. Even when they would occasionally spout some questionable nonsense about Primus when their radiation got a bit high, it was irrelevant and an easily solved problem to Shockwave. Plus, the ridiculous energy output Sunstorm was capable of was a valuable resource to be used as a source of power for the citadel. Saved on quite a bit of energon that way lol. Speaking of energon, they rlly had to be careful when fueling of making sure their radiation was a safe level before hand so they didnt combust lol. If they're optics are red, then that's an easy indicator that they chillin.

Sunstorm very often will "translate" Shockwave to people. Insisting that Shockwave cares in his own way, and that he has the best intentions. Shockwave did kinda programmed em to be specifically loyal to him tho-- Sunstorm very much does not understand why Shockwave is imprisoned later.

They also be plagued by visions from the gods due to their heightened energy signature. Primus and Unicron sound the same to them. Unicron of course took advantage of that and starts rlly getting in their brain and manipulating em hard. I'm sure you can guess what for-

After Shockwave's imprisonment, Sunstorm starts having more trouble keeping their energy levels stable, since the citadel was decommissioned, and the others dont really know the specifics about their condition/how to handle it. Unicron's influence gets worse, and Sunstorm goes to visit Shockwave for advice. Although they aren't in their right mind anymore, so when Shockwave tries to guide them on how to expell their energy safely, they freak out that he doesn't understand. In their frenzy they almost melt Shockwave thru the bars as they're in more of a daze guided by Unicron bein like /dewit/ lol

But guards step in. They try to apprehend Sunstorm buuut they cant touch em. Sunny leaves adn there is a whole arc of that theoretical last season round them and how peeps will end up taking down unicron and Sunstorm gets a good ending.

they have a lot of issues sjnijsndv

But I think theyd still visit Shockwave later, be decent friends with Soundwave, and Thundercracker. They'd retain an aversion to Optimus, really not being a fan, much to OP's dismay smh. One quirk of theirs to Starscream that makes him find a bit of a point of conversation to start on. Star would def warm up to em /after/ all that crazed shit (Probs would even get a bit protective tbh).

[haveyouplayedthisttrpg]

Have you played CREEKS AND CRAWDADS ?

By M. Martin Costa

Nuclear war had erased all human life from the face of the earth. Only the cunning, lucky, or well prepared had survived the initial bombs. They all died shortly thereafter. There were no mutants, no crazed war vets returning home, no cryogenic. sleepers trying to change civilization. Not even the vultures to pick their bones. Consider then the plight of Cambaris, the common crawdad. For in the radioactive hell that followed the war it found itself evolving towards intelligence. Well, part of the way. No matter how smart a crawdad gets, it’s still pretty stupid. Nonetheless, despite their basic stupidity, they set forth to rebuild a shattered world, to relight the torch of civilization, to get hungry, find lunch, and forget about everything else.

[mkredlac]

Old MCU Hulk: Bruce Banner that is suicidal and can't even kill himself when he tries, he goes off the grid to avoid attention but still lives to help the sick, he has a crazed radioactive Rage Monster inside him that just go SMASH and is a danger to everyone and everything he lives

New MCU Hulk: New age annoying therapy guru, MCU equivalent of BeetleJuice 2's Rory, absolutely zero tension with the character, Iron Man dies and he doesn't smash - he just drinks pina coladas with Green Babe Hulk

[stalkerofstuff]

Radioactive isotopes are the ultimate forbidden spice and I craze the spiciest of curries

@batkid-from-another-mother

Why are you considering a chemical element a spice,

And if that last part means eating them I would most likely not recommend it.

[hypermaddj]

Oc-tober 2023 day 2: new OC "Alright, people let's do this one last time!"

I watched Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse recently and since I missed the Spidersona craze with Into the Spiderverse so what better way than to make one now for OC-tober! Introducing Sonya Collins a university student, part-time barista, and full-time friendly neighborhood spider woman, Arachnea. She was bitten by a radioactive peacock spider. Unfortunately, the mutation went a bit haywire resulting in her developing the trademark four eyes of a peacock spider. While it makes her eyesight exceptional it does mean she walks around with a beanie all the time to hide her extra pair of eyes.

[3xm-draconic]

The Jester and The Courier: a wild wasteland love.

Chapter 2: Radioactive.

Myrtle got on her ranger gear, say for gear helmet and went down stairs. In the spare room handcuffed to the radiator was the crazy little red head dude, just…giggling to himself… 

“Any idea if the psycho is still in his system?” Gannon turned to Joshua, “no idea, psycho isn’t supposed to last that long…then again he might just be insane like Raul said” Joshua replied.

Myrtle approached the man and knelt down so she was eye-level with him, the man’s crazed grin fell from his face as soon as he saw her’s. It was no doubt due to the horrific scar across her left eye which was now completely cybernetic, that would scare the willies out of anybody.

…but…then he smiled again…

“You are something Cicero has never hallucinated before…a half-metal woman!” he gleefully giggled, “hmm, dilated pupils, erratic speech patterns, hallucinations…he may have severe mental trauma” she turned to the others “I think taking him to doc Usanagi for therapy might do him some good”.

“Where is Cicero? Why is he chained?...WHERE IS HIS JESTER’S CLOTHES!?” he squeaked and began to panic “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO POOR CICERO!?”, “ehey, ehey shhh, it’s ok buddy we didn’t do anything to you, we want to help you ok?” Myrtle hushed him “can you tell me what happened? Do you remember how you ended up naked and falling out of the sky?”

The red head…this Cicero guy…just looked at her weirdly and screamed “WHAT!?”, a water bottle was then flung at them “CAN HE STOP FUCKING SCREECHING!? I’am hungover and I’d like some peace and quiet!” Cass bellowed.

Myrtle turned to Ulysses “can you bring me some food and a bottle of water?”, “what for?”, “our friend here is so skinny he looks like he hasn't eaten a proper meal in weeks and I think the best way to get through to him is with kindness, not an interrogation” Myrtle replied.

Ulysses nodded and went into the kitchen to grab a plate of whatever Lily was making, “guys can I be alone with him?” Myrtle turned to Gannon and Graham, they nodded and left to go eat.

“so…Cicero, where are you from?”, the man hesitated “Cicero was from the Empire but he moved to Skyrim to be closer to his family”, “Empire? Sky-rim?” Myrtle pondered “I don’t know these places…they certainly ain't close to the Mojave or California” she mumbled. “Mo-ha-vee?...Cal-ee-forn-ya?...What are you talking about? What are those places?” Cicero wondered, “It’s where you are now bud, you are in Nevada, Southwestern Commonwealth of America, the Mojave desert, west of the NCR?” Myrtle pause “any of this dinging any bells up there?”

He stared at her blankly “no…but if Cicero is in a desert is it close to Hammerfell…the Alik’r?...or is it in Elsweyr?”, Myrtle blinked “no…you got me even more confused now”.

“What direction is this Sky-rim?”, “oh it is very, very far north” Cicero replied as he carefully observed the strange metal woman, her greenish-blue eye and metallic yellowish green one never wavering from his amber gaze, “north hmm? How far north? Like Uta or…?” she pondered, “U-ta?” Cicero wondered “Cicero has no idea about any of these places you say!” he snapped, he was getting agitated.

Myrtle sighed “look I’am sorry, I don’t mean to anger you I’am trying to help you find your way home” Myrtle said softly, Cicero calmed down a little as her words sounded ginuwine “ok…ok” he sighed.

Ulysses arrived with food: a plate of potato-bread toast, sunny side-up gecko eggs, brahmin sausages and cactus fruit jam.

She took the plate from him and sat it next to Cicero, “ok, I’am going to uncuff you and give you a fork…please…don’t stab me with it” she kindly asked him, Cicero had to hold back a pout…he wanted to stab someone…badly…

She got close enough to where Cicero could have easily jabbed it into her neck…but he needed to know more about just where in the void he was…and killing the only person wanting to help him would be like stabbing himself in the foot.

Cicero eyed the food on the plate…it…was weird…

“What is this?” he pondered as he poked at the strange eggs, “gecko eggs…have you never eaten one before?” Myrtle turned to him, Cicero cocked his head in confusion “nope…” he shrugged, “well their good eaten I say, I’ve had them plenty of times in my life” she shrugged and grinned “nothing is better in the morning like a cup of coffee and a plate of gecko eggs”.

“What's this coff-ee you speak of?” Cicero pondered, “it’s drink, it helps ya wake up in the morning, would you like a cup?”, Cicero thought about it for a moment “well when in the Empire do as the Impirals do” the thought to himself “yes, thank you” he nodded.

Myrtle left to get him some while Ulysses watched him, “so…Cicero…your name” Ulysses’s deep raspy voice rumbled “it sounds very…Legionary…” he mumbled.

Cicero eyed the strange man with a metal mouth “Cicero’s name is a perfectly normal Impiral’s name…what does it have to do with the military?”, “so your military is in league with Caesar?...oh dear…Myrtle was begging to like you…” he sighed.

That got Cicero on edge, what did he mean by that?...

“who…Who is this Ceasar you speak of?” he pondered, Ulysses cocked his head “don’t play dumb, he’s the leader…” he gave a small laugh “former…leader of the Legion”, Cicero looked even more confused.

“So…in this world there is no Tiber Septim?...no Empire?” Cicero’s head started to spin, if his very NATION didn’t exist here…then that would mean…

Myrtle came back with a cup of coffee “I made it with some brahmin milk and sweetened it with a little ant nectar, you look like somebody who wouldn’t like just straight black coffee…” Myrtle opened the door to see an alarming sight…

Ulysses knocked out and Cicero attempting to break out of his remaining handcuff using the fork but doing so badly that he was only hurting himself in the process.

“CHRIST ALMIGHTY!” Myrtle screamed as she set down the coffee on a dresser and ran over to Cicero, she smacked the fork out of his hand and restrained him “STOP, Stop, stop…what’s wrong?” she gazed into his panicked wild eyes, he was like a frightened animal.

Cicero headbutted her…but that only ended in him hurting himself…“don’t do that please…my skull is pure titanium and I doubt your old flesh and bone one can do much damage…now calm down before I make you calm down”.

“You won't take my soul daedra!” Cicero snarled at her and attempted to bite her, he managed to sink his teeth into her shoulder but then he felt a sharp pinch in his neck…then…he started to feel…relaxed.

“Ok, I’am gonna cuff you back to the radiator while you calm down ok buddy?” Myrtle said as she gently laid him back against the wall, thank GOD she had a needle of calm-x on her.

She checked on Ulysses who was waking up, “Hey S.Grant you ok pal?”, Ulysses groaned “little fucker…headbutted me…hard…ow”, Myrtle gave him a small pouch of healing powder “here go take a nap on the couch and heal up”.

“What of Crazy-Ass?” he grumbled, “calm-x, was gonna use it on myself to ease my jitters of hoover dam…but I think in the moment it was needed more on him” she sighed, “Myrt?” Ulysses looked at her with concern, “don’t” she glared at him “don’t worry about me and DON’T bring it up with the others…got it?”

He sighed  and they left the room.

[union-combine]

Greetings citizens of the Union and beings from beyond! Welcome to Union News Central, I'm your host Bluglakkag Flublabbak. Hello! This is the recent news! ::3

In the news today, the new craze spreading across the Union, the little amoeba pets that've been affectionately named Adoroebae! If you don't have one, you probably know someone who does, so here's the scoop!

The cute little critters were discovered on Feforyana, also known as Vesrun Prime. And since their discovery, they've spread throughout the Union. Why? Because they make great pets, of course!

Though amoeba's usually aren't too smart, the nucleus of an Adoreoba is particularly large and complex. That allows them some basic pattern recognition, the ability to bond, and show affection! Best of all? Adoroebae are very low maintenance! They're omnivorous but can't digest chitin so they don't good feeding them mushrooms or some insects, and they only undergo mitosis when they're particularly large and well fed.

So, if you don't want a litter of Adoroebae, don't overfeed your pet!

Fun fact! Though they're naturally green, you can safely and harmlessly pierce the cell membrane with a needle and inject food colouring to make them any colour! This doesn't harm them at all, and they don't even notice the change.

We go now to the citizen who discovered the first Adoroeba, Galdrig den Aramik!

"Uh, we live?"

Yes, Galdrig, welcome! So, how did you discover these cute little amoebae?

"Ah! Thanks, Bluglakkag! Well, I was just gatherin' spores from the ruins, to diversify the shroom crops on my family's farm, y'know? When I saw one them squeezin' through cracks in the concrete! It popped right out and then jumped on a Radrat! I was like nuh way!"

Oh my! What an entrance!

"Ya-huh! I saw it weren't interested in the shrooms so I figured it'd be good to keep back at the farm, stick it in the basement, cut down on usin' pesticides, and what do you know, the farm's been greener since. That could be the radioactive barrels... still gotta clean those up. Anyhoo! Word got out and next thing you know, every farmer's got some. And I guess other people started keepin' them cause they're cute?"

That makes you a trend setter, Galdrig! Thank you so much for joining us and sharing your story!

"That's quite alright, little friend."

And that brings this story to a close. I'll be keeping one of these cuties, and if you want one too, an interlink site called Adopt-An-Adoreoba has been set up to give Adoroebae to loving families!

Oh, one of them got on the camera! ::3 Cheeky little cutie! Come down from there!

Ah... This is Bluglakkag Flublabbak saying thanks for tuning in to our signal here at UNC. Be sure to bookmark our wavelength for future updates.

Solace in the Union.

[sassenashsworld]

What if I turn into a crazed killer...

Nora makes a low growl as she clenches her teeth and rubs her temples. She's getting more and more worn out as the days pass. Her patience has run out. Each new settlement she establishes is swiftly pillaged by hostile forces. Every soul she has ever tried to influence has walked off from her. The more she tries to help her son, the more she feels alone, and the more she discovers what monster he is.

Her exhaustion is obvious.

“I believe you've tried this strategy before, and it went poorly... for me.”

She cast a swift glance at her friend. She was sure she hadn’t spoken aloud.

“I am sorry.”

Nick can't tell if she regrets what she said or what he's referring to. Both are equally likely. Keep word count as low as possible. To be interpreted by others.

“You've done a fair bit of good in this world, even if it may not seem like much at the moment. The notion that we're changing the Commonwealth faith, one individual at a time, ain't no small matter 'cause there'll always be folks out there yearning for our help.”

“Too small steps at a time.”

She sighs heavily, her eyes fixed on the dull and lifeless horizon. A supportive hand is placed on her shoulder by her friend.

“Rome was not built in a day.”

“However, she burned in one night.”

He can’t stand it when she behaves in such a way. She is far too sharp and argumentative for her own good.

He tries again, this time more gently.

“You changed my life.”

After what seems like many heartbeats, the radioactive irises fly back to him for another glance. She reciprocated his smile slowly by lifting the corner of her lips, though it didn't seems to reach her eyes.

“You make mine much more bearable.”

He leans back and puffs on his cigarette.

“We’ll settle for it.”

[mizuthe-cat]

i wanna hear your facts silly man /nf

well uh

be warned for gore under the cut

after the hiroshima bombing people who looked directly at the bomb had their eyes melted out if their sockets

the skin of chernobyl liquidators turned black and papery due to radiation exposure

if you get skinned you might not die of blood loss and instead hypothermia

at hiroshima if you tried to grab onto someone their skin had the chance of coming off in a slimy glove-like sheet

radiation poisoning is like going through all the stages of decay while still alive and no painkillers can dull the pain as your organs liquify and shut down

the american government injected terminally ill people with radioactive materials to see the effects without their knowledge

during the radium craze the radium girls ingested radium because of their employers demand for efficiency (they kept using brushes even after the lip dip technique was banned) and most of it deposited in their jaws which caused radium to build up there and put holes in their skulls and radon in their breath

there's probably more but these were on the brain right now

[cherry-soda-art]

The element radium was discovered in 1898 by scientist couple Marie Sklodowska-Curie and Pierre Curie. The discovery was groundbreaking in the fields of chemistry and radioactivity.

Radium mainly stayed in the laboratory until a few years later when the world would be swept with a radium craze. Characterized by its bright glow, people viewed this element as the beginning of a new era and companies took full advantage. There were radium cosmetics, radium knickknacks, even radium laden drinking water. Though, many of these products were hoaxes, if you had the money, you could be sipping on radioactive water. They believed that radium had many health benefits. Mainly, that it would reinvigorate your body. One man believed in it so much he not only drank it every day, but her also gave it to his horse. But one of its most famous uses was to paint numbers on watch faces.

In 1917, The Radium Luminous Materials Corporation opened its first watch factory in New Jersey. To paint these dials, they hired young women- whose soft hands were believed the only ones delicate enough to perform such a task. Besides gentle hands, to paint the numbers, you needed a solid tip on the brush. But, paint tends to dull the tip. So, to fight that, they were instructed to reform the tip with their lips and saliva. Into the paint. Onto the watch. Back into the mouth.

At first, everything seemed fine. The workers- mostly in their teens and early 20s- loved being able to work with radium. The glow was pretty and they enjoyed painting their faces with it and going into dark rooms to see their faces glow. It was said you could always tell of someone worked at one of the factories, because their hair would glow at night. One girl even snuck a small amount back home to use it to use with her makeup for a dance. But their fun wouldn’t last.

The girls began to feel ill. Their joints ached, they were fatigued, and they began to get very sick. One girl began to develop sores in her mouth. At first, they weren’t sure what was causing these symptoms. After all, their bosses assured them the radium paint was completely safe. Bosses who, conveniently, were never around.

In 1922, Mollie Maggia began to experience the same symptoms as her coworkers. But one morning, she awoke to a sharp pain in her jaw. Concerned, her family called for their doctor. When he examined her, her jaw broke off from necrosis. Her doctor suggested this could’ve been caused by the radium she had been so often in contact with. A few months later, after agonizing pain, Maggie passed. Her family tried to raise awareness, but the company decided to spread the rumor that Maggie had died of syphilis. Her family insisted that wasn’t true, but, ultimately, what could they as a working class family do?

Maggie was the first victim but she’d be far from the last. Over fifty would die in the following years. In 1927, five workers from the original New Jersey plant would sue the company. They alleged that the radium they were encouraged to ingest was what caused their grievously poor health and the deaths of other workers. In 1928, the courts appealed in the workers’ favor and the lip-pointing technique was discontinued. Workers were also now given protective gear. But, this would be a hollow victory. Radium still wasn’t banned- far from it- and the reputation of women like Maggie Maggia were ruined because of the company’s irresponsibility and unwillingness to admit blame. They were still dying. There was nothing that could be done for them. They could only now take comfort in the fact that hopefully other workers wouldn’t face the same fate. It wasn’t until many years later that radium was banned.

Years later, their bodies were tested and high amounts of radiation were found. The bodies also had a strange quality- they flowed like the watches they painted.

[a-tale-never-told]

Not just messes up the human body, but it also renders the surrounding area unhabitable for humanity for literally thousands of years. If you are wondering why Hiroshima and Nagasaki are still habitable its because the bombs were detonated in the air. This meant no material got contaminated by radiation so after a few months the cities become safe. However should ANYTHING get dosed in radiation it remains radioactive for, and we are not joking, thousands if not millions of years.

......

Let's just go home, after all, Dad is probably going to ask where I am. so let's go *gets in the car* Slam! *Starts the engine*

Wrom! Wrom! Wrooom!

"*Hajime starts to drive on as the moon begins to rise over Kyoto, signing the start of the evening and the end of the first week of the group's efforts"*

....

Future Hajime: So that was the first week of Twilight syndrome. We made a bit of progress. We got two new members in the form of Mikan and Ibuki, I went to the library and got some books that would help in investigating the Kuzuryus and what they are about, and I managed to learn a lot about this "new world" these anons keep talking about. On the other hand, the Stasi agent knows who I am, and I met two strange people in the form of a crazed luck boy and a Yakuza. Who would've known that this wasn't even the worst part of the two weeks?

Future Hajime: Because now, it started to get worse. A lot worse...

TIME OF DAYS UNTILL TWILIGHT SYNDROME: 1 WEEK AND 10 DAYS

DAYS: 8.

[mamoduringdusk]

Since Spider-Verse recently released in digital, Here's a Spider-Sona I made during the films run and all the craze. Meet Spider-Hood, A once common street thief who after being bitten by a radioactive spider now steals from the rich, and then the richer, and then gives all that money back to the lower class of Manhattan.