#shock surprise hes still rabid

[phantomskeep]

The Early Bird Gets The Worm - Chapter 1

The Early Bird Gets The Worm

Chapter 1 -  9 Out 10 Doctors Prescribe Child Rearing for Emotionally Constipated Families

Written by @agent-sushi-fbi & myself uwu

Read it on AO3 here!

Masterpost | Chapter Two Was he still wearing traffic light colors? No. Was Bruce going senile as he got older? Yes, and he was gathering evidence of it every day.

Dick wondered once again why they were having so many issues between them as he swung to the next rooftop, landing almost gracefully amongst the leftover rain on the asphalt. Stumbling on his feet was embarrassing nonetheless and he grumbled to himself as he kicked a pebble across the roof, watching as it hit an old AC unit with a hollow clang. Honestly, he came to Gotham to help Bruce out of the goodness of his heart while Tim is out of town and how does the man respond? By treating him like he's still a little Robin meant to dutifully take orders without question!

“Fucking old man, treating me like I'm a kid,” Dick muttered under his breath, not caring who heard him nearby, he was alone on the roof anyway.

“This ‘fucking old man’ can still hear you,” Batman’s deadpan voice came over the line. Dick froze on the spot, shoulders tightening as he heard the quiet undertones of anger. Oops, comms were still on and open to the shared channel… “Either mute your comms or keep those thoughts to yourself, Nightwing.”

Dick pondered for a minute, putting his hand on his chin like he was really thinking on the idea before he responded. “Nope, I'll pass,” he told Batman cheekily, smirking to himself. He was an adult now. While Bruce may have taken him in and taught him all he knew at Dick's lowest point, it doesn't mean the man gets to treat him like a child anytime he comes by home Gotham.

He was his own grown man. Nightwing had his own city to protect now–he was even a well-established member of the hero community in his own right! He didn’t need some emo flying furry telling him what to do anymore. Covering his eyes from the light drizzle that had picked up again, he observed the area below him, staying alert for any sort of disturbance that may pop up and ignoring Bruce’s displeased grunts. It wouldn’t be good if Dick were to miss a crime after their little “spat” earlier, as Aflred would call it. A screaming match was a more accurate description if you asked anyone else, and he was not willing to let it open him up to more criticism from the “World’s Greatest Detective” later on when they were back in the Cave.

Stiffly, the black and blue clad vigilante stalked to the edge of the darkened rooftop, trying his best to not clench his fists like some angsty teenager. What was he even hoping to gain, coming back here? The man stood, pondering as he gazed down at the busy streets of his childhood home. A pat on the head, like the good little dog he was acting like? Bruce calls, so he comes running? Dick scoffed at himself, turning his head sharply. He aimed his grapple, firing it at the corner of a nearby building. With the grace born from years of practice, Nightwing danced between towering structures as he continued his Batman-approved patrol route.

“Nightwing, behave yourself over comms or you will go back to the Cave for the night.” Dick grit his teeth, jaw clenched tight as Bruce tried to basically ground him. He shook his head, preparing to land on the next rooftop, but stopping just shy to grab onto a gargoyle sitting on the edge of a lower office building. Leaning against the cold surface, Dick felt the sharp points of the creature’s horns digging into his back help to ground him in the moment. 

“Batman, you do not have a say over my actions or whether I am benched anymore,” Dick told him, evenly spacing out his breaths as he tried to keep the rage at bay. He felt like there was a ball of heat in his chest he was desperately trying to cool as he methodically rubbed his gloved fingers over the stone ridges of the statue's ugly face. 

“Nightwing–” Bruce started to grunt, so Dick turned off his comms as a response and took in a deep breath of the familiar, smoggy Gotham air. This city may not have been where he was born, and he may not live here anymore, but the man found peace flying through her night sky. This would always be his home. As ugly and villain-infested as it may be… This shithole was his shithole.

Ever since Jason passed, Dick knew things needed to change so he could preserve this feeling and keep this dysfunctional family intact. Tim helped a lot in the beginning, when Dick was too bitter to do more than practically tell a thirteen-year-old to handle a drunkard on his own. But, he's trying to make up for it now by helping on patrol and making them all participate in family dinners twice a month. It wasn't much, and he could admit it wasn't really working since he'd noticed Tim wearing sound proof headphones more often than not when Dick and Bruce were together. It broke his heart that another little brother of his felt like he needed to prepare himself for an inevitable screaming match from his family members. 

Dick was trying, he really was. But Bruce just made everything so hard. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of multiple trash cans falling over each other nearby. His face twisted in confusion, eyebrows scrunching together as his head whipped around to find the source of the noise. Body becoming a tightly coiled spring of focused intent, he silently crept closer to where he heard the cacophony. The noise became apparent in the way of a metal lid rolling out of the alley below and into the street like a quarter, spinning and spinning for a moment before falling flat. Dick cautiously peered over the edge of the roof, eyebrow raised at what he could imagine he'd find. A goon passed out drunk? A working girl kicking the nuts of a deadbeat harassing her? An internet famous Gotham-patented radioactive raccoon?

What he certainly did not expect was an unruly mop of black hair peeking out above the trash cans, only visible against the dark of night in contrast to the silver metal they clung to with tiny baby hands. He watched in disbelief as this child (so tiny and cute, he had to admit) stumbled to their feet, swaying as little as they reached for the contents of the trash. Dick felt sick just looking at the spill, but he felt worse knowing the child was doing this out of desperation. Tapping on his lenses, they zoomed in on the kid and he saw how small they were and how scrawny they looked. Alfred would faint at the sight of how skinny this child was and Dick would be right there with the old butler.

Making a quick decision, Dick hastily hopped onto a pipe that clung to the building he stood on and quietly slid down it like a fireman's pole. He didn't want to scare the small child who, at closer inspection now that he was on the ground, looked similarly disgusted at their options before them. The kid was still swaying, the movement picking up in speed before they plopped onto the asphalt, groaning. 

Dick rushed forward, panicking, but his sudden burst of speed startled the child. The tiny twig of a human scrambled back, a weakened wheeze of panic bursting from their lungs as they held out a small hand to ward off the vigilante.

“Hey, hey now,” Dick soothed as he crouched down to make himself seem smaller. “It’s okay, you’re okay…I’m not gonna hurt you.” The practiced “soothe the victim” voice was easy to fall into as domino-covered eyes worryingly took in the shaking child. He wanted to reassure this kid as much as possible, but he knew that he couldn't promise them anything. Making a promise to a child was important, he learned young that if you couldn't keep that promise the child would see it as a loss of trust.

“S-stay back!” The kid’s squeaky voice tugged at Dick’s heartstrings with how much terror it held. “Yo-you can’t t-take me!”

Dick slowly lowered himself to fully sit down on the filthy, trash-covered alley. He grimaced at the smell (was that sludge on his glove?) and he crossed his legs, letting his arms hang disarmingly on his knees. Keeping his body language loose and unassuming, Dick smiled goofily at the other. “My name’s Nightwing, I’m one of the heroes here in Gotham tonight. You’re safe now, no one’s going to take you while I'm here.”

Icy blue eyes peered out from behind a dirt-stained hand, reminding Dick of a different time, a different alley-found kid who was taken too soon. By Batman's stinky cowl would he let another one be lost to the horrors of this city as well. When the kid spoke, their voice was full of doubt. “How can I trust you? For all I know you could be some weirdo looking to kidnap me!”

A surprised laugh burst from Dick before he could contain himself, causing the filthy child to flinch away with a startled squeak. He sobered up quickly at that reaction however, leaning away from the kid to give the illusion Dick was no longer directly in their space, but still close enough to keep an eye on them. He's met children like this before, wary of adults or the world around them in general, only relying on themselves at an age where they can't do enough to keep their heads above water. Blinking rapidly at the thought to hold back his tears, Dick remembered when Jason first came to the manor. Even as distant as he was with his brother at the time, he saw how the pre-teen acted out of self preservation even months into Alfred's mother-henning.

This kid had the same fear written in the lines on his young face, as well as the same steel of determination in his eyes. Dick respected it, but he still was worried about this child who looked like they hadn't eaten a proper meal or slept in a bed in months. 

“I might be a weirdo to some people for sure,” Dick agreed casually. The kid blinked in surprise and he grinned a little in triumph, quickly smothering it with a serious expression. Exaggerating his actions, Dick twisted his head this way and that around the alley as though checking for anyone listening in, before he leaned a little bit forward with his hand blocking his mouth. The child shuffled forward a few inches, alternating between staring him down and checking the alley themselves with wide eyes. Dick resisted the urge to laugh again, focusing on trying to ease the kid into believing that he was safe.

“Between you and me? My friends think I'm a super big weirdo for putting peach jam in my pb & j's,” he told the kid, nodding his head sagely. All he got was a deadpan look in response, all of the sudden interest he got was lost from the kid before him.

“So you're not just a weirdo, but also super lame with no taste buds?” 

Wow, okay, so Dick was a little offended… or maybe he was impressed? The kid gave him a look that was reminiscent of Alfred or Jason when he tried to argue he could help in the kitchen. The “are you seriously this stupid to defend yourself like that” look. 

Yeah, maybe a little more offended than anything. Didn't mean the kid wasn't cute while doing it. 

Quick thinking made Dick grab at his uniform with striped fingers, gripping the fabric around his heart. “Ouch!” He wailed dramatically, flopping his legs forward as he used his toned core muscles to lean backwards, careful to not let more of the filthy alley touch him. “Ah! Truly a strong opponent, I cannot win!”

Quiet giggles echoed around the alley, causing Dick to grin in triumph. He titled his head to the side a bit to better see the small child. Their face was scrunched up in mirth, both hands covering their mouth in an attempt to better muffle the joyful sounds trying to escape. Encouraged by this, Dick resolved to continue to give the best performance of his life.

“I will simply never recover,” Dick moaned, making his body twitch dramatically. “This is how I die…the great Nightwing, struck down in a battle of wits by a toddler!” He gasped, reaching one hand up to the sky as he gave his big finale. “I can…see the light! It’s calling me…must…go…” He murmured quietly before giving a final spasm with an extremely convincing “blegh”, letting his arm drop to his chest and sticking his tongue out of his mouth.

As the giggles continued, they got closer. Peaking an eye open just a bit, Dick could see the kid toddling closer to the felled hero. “You’re silly,” they said, poking at Dick’s cheek hesitantly. “That’s not what death looks like.”

Dick could feel his heart shatter. This kid, no more than, what? Maybe four or five years old? This poor, tiny child was trying to correct Dick on what dying looked like. It made Bludhaven’s protector want to just scoop them up and wrap them up in a giant, fluffy blanket and protect them from the world.

“It’s a good thing I’m not actually dead then, huh?” Dick said with a grin, trying so hard to not let what he was feeling filter through. Bright smile for the tiny concerning child, bright smile.

The child cocked their head to the side like a curious puppy. “Well, duh,” the little thing scoffed, relaxing a bit at the horizontal hero. “I'd know it if you were actually dead.”

*****************

He really needed to get some meat on this kid’s bones, like immediately. Dick felt like he was carrying a small bag of potatoes while he grappled through the streets of downtown Gotham towards Wayne Enterprises to meet B for their patrol check in. Maybe if he showed the kid to Alfred, he could just keep him safe at the manor and he wouldn't worry about the tiny thing in his arms being so tiny anymore.

“Where are we going?” A squeaky voice shouted in his left ear. Was there a ringing bell nearby? 

Dick smirked, glancing quickly at the child before shooting his gun at the side of Wayne Enterprises, clicking the side button and rocketing them up the side of the skyscraper. He heard a soft gasp over the rush of wind before his world was filled with small, uncontrollable giggles and Dick tightened his hold.

“We gotta meet up with someone, little one!” He cheerfully shouted back as the duo landed at the top of the tower. With his feet squarely against solid concrete, Dick set the child down to face away from the large drop off the side of the building. He was worried the kid would either get scared, or want to try jumping off and he wasn't sure which was worse right now. A quick glance around told Dick that Bruce was still doing his own patrol. “Just stay away from the edge, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the little sass monster said as they shakily walked towards the center of the helipad. “I’m not dumb.”

“Uh huh,” Dick sassed back as he hovered over the kid. “You wanna tell me your name yet?”

Cold eyes narrowed as the child looked up at Dick. “No, you’re still a weirdo.”

Yikes, Dick thought. Whoever this kid's parents were deserved an award for raising such a menace to society. “Okay, okay,” he said airly. “I’ll figure it out one day, just you watch.”

“Oh, so now you’re a stalker, too?” The kid said as they flopped onto the concrete flooring. “Maybe I should’ve run away. Stranger danger and all that nonsense.” They flapped an itty-bitty hand dismissively.

“I thought we established that I wasn’t a stranger already?” Dick wasn’t pouting. He was an adult, and adults don’t pout at children winning in a battle of sass.

“No, we just established that you don’t know what it looks like when people die. Do you even pay attention to anything?”

Dick rolled his eyes, sauntering over to nudge his foot against the kid's thigh. “I paid enough attention to notice that you're good at avoiding questions. Why is that?”

“Nunya,” they told him. Dick felt the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. No, he would not act like Bruce.

“Nope, I'm not playing that one,” Dick told the kid, who pouted that they couldn't finish the joke. “Come on, I can't keep calling you ‘kid’ or ‘that tiny child lighter than a grape’ now can I?”

They squinted at Dick, crossing their arms awkwardly since they seemed to refuse moving from their starfish position on the ground. “Rude. You talk to every kid you meet like that?”

Dick smirked, “Just the ones who think they’re tall enough to talk back? Where do you reach on me again?” Dick mimed checking the kid's height against himself and stopped with it below his knees. Was it petty to make fun of the small child’s height? Yes, but he didn’t care. “Oh right, sorry but you're not tall enough to verbally attack this adult.”

“Whatever,” they muttered, turning away from Dick. But he noticed the kid kept him within their peripheral vision, just enough of an angle to pretend they couldn't see Dick even if his every movement was being tracked by blue eyes. It was just like how Jason acted, back when he was first introduced to life in the manor. Luckily, that meant that Dick had more than enough experience with snotty scared children to make sure this one kept feeling safe around him.

“So,” Dick said after a few moments of silence. “Like I said earlier, we’re gonna be meeting up with someone. But what I didn't mention was that it's Batman.”

“What kind of name is that?” The kid said, their spunk seemingly reviving itself in the few minutes where they didn’t speak. “Who wakes up one morning and decides to name their kid things like Nightwing and Batman?”

Dick spluttered. “It’s a superhero name, kid. It’s meant to not be normal.”

“You should’ve been named Jeff. Now Jeff is a good name.”

Dick paused, scrunched his nose a little in confusion before responding. “So, do you want me to call you Jeff since you like it so much?”

The kid scoffed, not fully paying attention and obviously still insulting him mentally. “Pffsh, no, call me Danny because my name isn't Jeff, stupid.”

Dick smiled like the cat who ate the canary. “Well, well, Danny is such a nice name,” he told Danny. Dick was enjoying the expression on his face when he realized that he messed up, the horror seeping into his features and a devastated tilt to his lips as he turned to Dick. “Thank you for telling me, now is Danny short for anything?”

Danny pouted and it was so cute Dick wanted to coo and squish his little cheeks. “No, just Danny, you weirdo.”

“No last name?” Dick prodded, poking at Danny’s thigh.

“You’re subtle.”

“And you’re going to answer!” Dick cheerfully said, walking around to stand at the front of the black-haired boy.

“You can’t make me do anything,” Danny glared up at Dick, arms still crossed. “You’re not my dad.”

Dick wasn't sure why that comment stung unlike the others, but he moved past it. He scoffed obnoxiously and mimicked Danny's pose, jutting his hip out in a move of pure sass. “Well I may not be but–”

“Nightwing.”

Dick froze with whatever bullshit he'd pull out of his ass dying on his lips. He saw Danny raise a questioning eyebrow at the scene, clearly interested in the drama, but Dick didn't focus on it. Instead, like always, he responded to Batman's voice. It didn't matter he wasn't Robin anymore and someone else held the title, it didn't matter he was all grown up and had his own name now. When Batman called, a Robin always whistled back, standing at attention like the “good little soldiers” they were. 

Sighing, he turned around and put his hands behind his back, feet spread apart as he nodded at Batman. Because this wasn't his father figure, the man who raised him despite the emotional intelligence of an ant. This was Batman, who didn't take disappointment or inadequacy from his sidekicks. No matter what happens, we'll always be little soldiers reporting for duty, won't we?

“Batman, no unusual activity for the night. There were the two robberies I reported on patrol, as well as stopping a street girl from being taken into an alley and shot. Oracle has the recordings from my suit already uploaded for review.” Simple, to the point, just the way Bruce liked it. All done.

“Hrn.” 

What? What did he forget?

“Hey! Why do you go around with your underwear outside your pants like that?” Danny interrupted.

Oh…right, he forgot about Danny for a minute there.

The silence across the rooftop was louder than any words shouted into the night sky could be. Dick tensed as he shifted, covering more of Danny from Batman's view as he watched the man's cowl wrinkle up. Internally he winced, wishing he had honestly thought this out better but at the time, he had only been focused on gaining Danny's trust. Once he had it, something in him wouldn't let the kid go and, frankly, he didn't want to. But in hindsight, this was definitely not one of his best ideas. He snorted lightly, thinking Jason would have made fun of him for being an idiot right now–like the time he tried to catch a runaway ice cream cart and slipped into a pile of cold sugar that spilled on the ground instead.

“Why do you have a civilian child here, Nightwing?” Batman practically growled, causing Dick to frown and tense his shoulders in a defensive response. He knew the man had been having problems since Jason's death. Tim had been trying his best to help Bruce out of a dark place, but sometimes he seemed to fall back into those old, angrier patterns on them. It was not appreciated, but he knew it took time to work through grief. It was small mercies the man wasn't sending people to the hospital or himself into an early grave on the daily anymore.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, during my patrol I noticed a disturbance in an alley and–”

“He met me! So, why are you looking at Nightwing like he's a bad guy, Batman? Aren't you two friends?” Danny popped up at his side all of a sudden. Dick startled, quickly shooting a glance at where the boy had been five feet away and he wondered at how he didn't hear so much as a squeak until Danny spoke. “You shouldn't be mean to your friends,” he nodded sagely at his own words and Dick held in a snort of amusement. “That's what she always used to tell me.”

Dick paused. Danny hadn't mentioned anyone he knew before now. Ignoring Batman's glowering, he tilted his head down to catch Danny's eyes. But the kid was gazing past them both, the bright blue dulling in the throes of some kind of possible memory. Telegraphing his movements slowly, Dick lightly touched the tips of his fingers to Danny's shoulder and whispered his name. “Danny? You okay in there, bud?”

It took a moment for the kid to shake his head like an old, wet dog, blinking slowly and gazing back at Dick. He nodded, glancing down at his tiny hands as though they held all of the answers to the universe’ most difficult questions. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“You spaced out there a little bit,” Dick carefully told him. He watched Danny’s eyebrow’s furrow and mentally debated pushing. He was curious if the child would open up to him a little despite the hulking bat furry standing behind him like a living shadow. Cautiously, he held his hand a little more firmly on Danny’s shoulder and asked him what he was wondering. “Danny, who is this ‘she’ you mentioned?”

“Uhh…” Danny stalled, titling his head and giving an awkward smile that was barely more than a tick of the lips and didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know?”

“Alright, kiddo.” Dick murmured, a bit disheartened hearing the response, but doing his best to not show it. He gave a sharp nod and turned his head to look at his mentor. “But, yeah, B he’s right. Shouldn’t you be nicer to me?”

“You’re endangering a child, Nightwing.” Batman growled, disapproval practically flowing off the man. It took years upon years for Dick to understand the different levels of Bruce’s inflections and what they meant, like learning a whole new language. But now? It was clear as day to him looking at the man. The big, bad bat was pissed and disappointed at his oldest protege’s actions. Dick tried to not let it hurt him (and show on his face) as much as it did.

But he also felt a flare of anger swell up in his chest. Indignant, Dick stepped forward, close enough to block Danny completely from Batman's sight and get in the Dark Knight’s face. “You want to talk about endangering children, B? You would know all about that, wouldn't you? Picking us up off the streets like party favors.” 

Dick shook his head, a scoff falling from his lips as his hands vibrated with the anger now burning his veins at the hypocrisy of the moment. A quick tug to his leg made him stumble though, and he almost fell when Danny barged past him. A cry on the tip of his tongue, Dick watched as the little tyke stomped over to Batman and crossed his tiny arms. 

“Hey! He may be a total weirdo, but Nightwing is really nice and he's been taking good care of me!” Danny pointed a finger at Batman and Dick realized with dawning horror and amusement that this child was lecturing B, for him. He felt his heart beat as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “So you stop bullying him right now!”

“Kid,” B started gruffly, reaching a hand to grab him, probably. But Danny smacked his gloved hand away and took a shaky step back. He stumbled over his feet closer to where a stunned Dick stood, gaping at the scene before him. 

“NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO TOUCH ME, I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY! HE'S NOT NICE!” Danny shouted at the top of his lungs, shaking arms firmly clung to either side of him. His body faced Batman, but his head was turned to a spot just over the man's shoulder. The kid started swaying side to side again, and Dick knew that tears were welling in Danny’s eyes even if he couldn’t see the boy’s face.

Dick scrambled forward, recognizing the signs from earlier. The vigilante caught the child in his arms and pulled out his grapple gun. “We will discuss this more later, at the Cave. But right now Danny is upset, so I'm going to take him to Agent A. For the rest of the night, you're on your own.”

He whispered comforting nonsense to the shaking, brooding child in his arms as he walked away and didn't look back. Not even when Danny heavily propped his chin on Dick's shoulder to keep an eye on Batman as they left. “What was all that about Danny? Who were you yelling at?”

Dick was sure Danny wasn’t talking to Bruce at that time, his head had been tilted too far to the left and he spoke as though he were talking about Bruce to someone else. But no one had been there. It made him a little concerned he might have something in his system and resolved to have Alfred examine him after they got some real food into Danny. 

Danny cut him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, not bothering to move his head’s position and smirked maliciously. If he didn't think everything about this kid was adorable, he'd probably be unnerved at the expression, paired with little baby fangs poking past his lips he hadn’t noticed earlier. Danny replied to him, but in a loud enough voice so that it would carry across the roof to where they left Bruce, no doubt standing guard as he watched them leave.

“I was talking to the ghosts that follow him, duh.”

[not-neverland06]

How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII

Series Masterlist

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I see a lot of comments talking about how you guys wished they would just communicate. They are communicating its just that neither of them know what they want. Summary: All you want is to just be clean. He offers to show you a nice little spot where you can finally scrape the grime off of you. What could go wrong?

“So,” you shifted your bag further up your arm. You were favoring the left today on account of the giant gap he had left in your right bicep. You were still pretty pissed off about that. “Do you ever, you know, bathe?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, he seemed caught off guard by the question. “Bathe?” He repeated, face raised in surprise.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, “Yeah, bathe. I’ve been out here over a week. I’ve got about twenty layers of blood and sand stuck in every crevice.” Your skin crawled thinking about the different types of bodily fluid you’d been sprayed with since coming out of the cryo pod. 

There was a lot of blood, of course, but Hollywood doesn’t show everything that gets excreted in death. You were itching for a good shower. You know that’s out of the question, but there’s got to be something. 

He laughed and ripped off a piece of jerky. He offered you some, grinning when you shook your head. “Buckle up, sweetheart, you’re in for a rude awakening. You can always use the water, but that’s a waste of Radaway if you ask me.” You should have known. It’s not like anyone you’d encountered seemed particularly gung ho about personal hygiene, but you had hoped there would be something. 

You reached down, digging your nails into your arm and scratching off flakes of blood and who knows what else. You shouldn’t have bothered, though, it only made the rest of you feel a hundred times worse. You looked crazy, scratching at yourself like a dog but you couldn’t help it. 

“Alright, damn, I’ll give you some of my Radaway, you look half rabid.”

You stopped with your scratching and stared at him in shock. “You’ll give me some of your Radaway?”

He rolled his eyes, stopping only when he noticed you’d quit walking. “Is that not what I said?”

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “You’re not exactly known for your generosity. What’s the catch?”

He frowned and clutched at his chest like you’d actually done damage, “Now, that hurts darling. I’m just trying to help you out.” He turned around, walking to the right now, further towards greenery and away from the desert. “Plus, it’ll get rid of that fucking smell.”

You kept your mouth shut but he was one to talk. He hadn’t exactly tasted wonderful when he’d kissed you. Nor did he smell amazing. Still, he had made your heart race and it wasn’t from pure terror for once. Though, any positive feelings he’d caused within you had been negated the second he dropped you to the dirt like a used up toy. 

You knew better than to try and bring it up to him, but it had stung. Attacked that vulnerable part of you that made you want to put up walls so high even the sun couldn’t get through. 

With no other choice you sped up and caught up to him. Your hip was still bothering you, but it wasn’t dragging behind you as much as it was a few days ago. The only thing really bugging you now was your throbbing arm. He’d assured you that it couldn’t rot, he’d dealt with that, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. 

“Through here is a lake you can use.” He pointed towards the area where the trees started to thin out. 

You looked at him skeptically, “You’re really letting me do this?”

He scoffed and glared at you, “The fuck did I tell you?” You don’t know if he’s talking about his new rule to stop questioning him or about giving you the Radaway, but you keep your mouth shut anyway. He hasn’t been as much of a dick today and you’d rather keep it that way. 

“Here,” he motions through the trees and you stumble into an abandoned neighborhood. It’s been submerged in water, you can spot some old apartment buildings peeking up through the top. 

Briefly, you wonder if you’ve ever passed your old home and just never realized it. You dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes, not willing to let your mind linger on thoughts like that today. 

You slowly make your way to the water, still not entirely trusting of his intentions. He’s made it clear he’s keeping you around for the long haul, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped tormenting you. “You’re really gonna let me use your Radaway?” You call over your shoulder. 

He sighs and leans against the trunk of a tree. “Get your ass in the water, I won’t wait around all day. 

You’re not dumb enough to fully submerge yourself in radiated water. You just rip a piece of your shirt off and dunk it into the startlingly blue lake. You use it to scrub yourself down, rubbing your arms until they’re raw and feel clean enough. 

You shuffle closer to the water, trying to bend over enough to scrub your face a bit. But when you gaze down into the water you find something gazing back up at you. You scream, scrambling back just as that thing leaps out of the water and towards you. 

Something pink and wet slams into your chest and knocks the air out of your lungs. You grope blindly in the mud for your gun as it opens its mouth. Horror and disgust fill you when you see what’s in its mouth, human fingers dangle like disgusting uvulas. It darts forward, jaw posed to clamp around your whole face. 

A loud bang echoes through the lake. The thing goes flying back and causes ripples to drift across the surface of the water. You clutch your chest, trying to get your breath back and scoot closer to get a better look at whatever attacked you. It’s the size of your torso and looks startling like some deformed axolotl. He’s left a large bullet hole in the middle of it’s head deformed head.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, shakily getting to your feet and groaning when you realize whatever you’d manage to clean off had been replaced by a thick layer of mud. 

You turn around, hoping for some sort of explanation from him, but he’s just bent over laughing, gun still smoking. You grab your bag out of the muck with a huff and glare at him. “Really?”

He straightens up, still grinning and shakes his head. “You should have seen your face, you were petrified.”

”Well, I’m glad someone enjoyed that.” You glare down at the corpse, eyes wide with horror, “It’s got fucking fingers in it’s throat. Human fingers!” He saunters over to you, entirely too pleased with himself. He grabs his inhaler out of his bag and loads it with Radaway. He tosses it over to you and you catch it with your good arm. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” You press down and take in a deep breath, ignoring how bitter the juice tastes. 

“Never trust anything, rule number one of the Wastelands darling. Can’t even trust the water.” There was a loud roar off towards the middle of the lake and he nodded his head back towards the tree line. “Come on, that one was just a baby Gulper. Momma’s gonna be by soon and I can’t imagine she’ll be real happy.” He walks off without you and you’re stuck staring at the dead mutant. 

“That was a fucking baby?” He laughs at you again and when you catch up with him, you can't help but laugh a little yourself. You probably looked ridiculous, wrestling in the mud with what, apparently, was only an infant. 

He grins at you, “You got a lot to learn.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

He’s kneeled down beside you, fingers prodding at the reddened area around your wound. It feels a bit better now, more like touching a fresh bruise rather than raw nerves. He poured some water from his canteen over the area and retied the bandage. He stood up and moved away from you while you dug around in your bag for another ration bar. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You’ve got the bar positioned between your knees, and you’re trying, hopelessly, to open it up with one hand. Your fingers, now dusted with dried mud, slip uselessly against the packaging. 

He looks up at you and lets out a loud sigh. “Give it here.”

”I’ve got it-”

“Give. It. Here.” You huff but toss the bar over to him. He rips it open in one smooth move and throws it back to you. You catch it with your good hand and take a large chunk out of it. It feels like rubber and tastes oddly like dried out meatloaf. You’re not exactly sure what flavor it’s supposed to be replicating, but you figure it’s so old it doesn’t really matter as long as it fills you up. 

He pours some water from his canteen onto a ripped piece of cloth and tosses it at you. You’re unprepared, bar in hand and midchew, it slaps against your face and you scowl under the fabric. “Really?” You mutter, mouth half full. You yank it off your face and give him a questioning look. 

“Just clean yourself up.” 

You drag it across your face and arms, trying to get off as much residual mud as you can. Your clothes are a stained, lost cause, but this will do for now. Not like you’re going to get much better without going up against some mutant monster. 

“You’re being nice today?” It comes out like a question more than anything. Probably because you’re having trouble trusting him, especially after the Gulper incident. You wished you could say you can’t believe he would do something like that, but you’re pretty sure he’d been hoping the mom would get you, not the baby. 

He shrugged and leaned back against a fallen log. “Feelin’ chivalrous.”

You hummed but didn’t push. You forced down another lump of your ration and reached for your water. “Where are we heading anyway? Been walking for a long time but we haven’t seem to have gotten anywhere.”

“There’s a compound I took a bounty for. We’re on our way to deliver it.”

You tilted your head as far back as you could, tongue out and hoping to catch the remaining drops of your water. “Shit,” you tossed the canteen back in your bag, already knowing it was hopeless. 

“Ah, hell,” you glanced up and saw Cooper rifling through his supply box. 

“How are you on Radaway?”

He sighed and chucked the box back into his bag. “Got two vials left.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, a pensive expression on his face. 

You sighed and rubbed idly at some mud left on your fingers. “You’re gonna need more soon.”

He cut you off with a sharp laugh. “Faster than soon, this is the diluted shit.” He rubbed at his chest and you wondered if he was already starting to feel the effects of being so low on the medicine. You can’t believe he gave you a vial of his own with so few left. 

Bastard must’ve really wanted to see you get jumped by a gulper. Your face twisted up in distaste and any twinge of sympathy you’d felt for him dissapeared. You wished he would cough so hard he’d choke on his tongue, at least then you wouldn’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore. 

He looked over at you and then your bag. “Got any of that purified water left?” You shook your head, crumpling the wrapper of your bar up and tossing it somewhere behind you, 

“Just ran out, not sure where I’m gonna find more.”

He chuckled and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I do,” you stood up and grabbed your own bag, following behind him. 

Loud laughter and rowdy conversation drifts into the night air. You sit perched behind a large boulder, staring into the building across from you. It’s an old supermarket, refurbished to fit the Wastelanders' needs. “They’ll have what we need?”

He doesn’t look at you, his sight is dead set on the men milling about in front of you. They’re clearly guards, switching positions every couple of minutes and loaded to the teeth with weapons. Cooper silently tracks them, eyes darting between them as they switch positions yet again. 

“Yep,” he lifts up into a squat and watches as one of the men turns his back to lace up his boot. “Now!” He grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and drags you along as he weaves between the guards. He throws you in front of him, practically tossing you inside the store. 

You hold back your gasp of shock and duck behind a waist-high shelf. There are only seven or eight men walking around inside. They’ve got a fire burning in the middle of the store, the empty shelves pushed back against the walls. Behind them is about the largest pile of supplies you’ve seen since being up here. They could give Ma June a run for her money. 

You peek your head over the shelf and try to get a look at just how many weapons they have. You hear the familiar sound of spurs walking behind you and twist immediately to see Cooper walking calmly towards the group with his hands raised in surrender. He catches your eye and winks before he fully addresses them. 

“Gentlemen!” You sigh and sink back against the shelf, an irritated look on your face. The shelf screeched forward slightly and you scrambled off it, you caught Cooper twitch a little in irritation but he didn’t say anything. He’s been fully noticed at this point, the others all glaring at him with their guns raised. 

He had a full view of all eight men from his perspective. What he couldn’t see, which you could, was a ninth man sneaking up behind him with a knife. He had it poised, aiming to strike right through the back of Cooper’s neck. 

Without thinking too much on it, you leapt out of your hiding spot and used your good arm to point your gun in the man’s face. He came to a stop almost cartoonishly, eyes wide and the knife in his hands trembling when you popped out. 

Cooper barely gave you a glance out of the side of his eye and you figured he knew all about the ninth man. He must have been testing you, see if you really had his back. “Hey!”

“Who the fuck is she!”

“What are you doing here?”

You ignored the sounds of their voices, you kept the gun trained on the boy and motioned him towards the left of the room. He followed, letting you guide him backwards until he was scrambling to hide behind his friends. It’s then that you finally got a good look at just how many guns were trained on you. 

One of them pumped their shotgun and you pulled back the hammer of your gun. Cooper’s guns were still tucked away in their holster, it was just you and however much firepower they could cram between ten pairs of hands. 

“Now, I suggest that you gentlemen put those guns down or my friend here is gonna get a little too friendly with her trigger.”

One of them scoffed, gesturing with the barrel of their pistol towards your right arm hanging limply by your side. “She got a bad arm and a shaking hand.”

“Maybe,” you call out, “but I got a working finger. I only need one of ‘em to kill you.”

Before he can respond there’s another one stepping forward. “She can get real friendly with me.” He’s got a lecherous grin on his face and a look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You sigh, sick of the men up here being so predictable, and turn your gun on him. His eyes widen, like he hadn’t seen you pointing it at his friends, and you pull the trigger. 

Your aim is a little off and the recoil is harder to handle with only one hand available to you, but you’ve got a sawed off shotgun in your hand, don’t have to have a great aim to kill a man with that. His twitching body has barely hit the ground before you’re diving to the right and ducking behind a shelving unit. 

Cooper goes to the left, eyes wide in the same astonishment as those men. Bullets started flying the second their friend was on the ground. They were shouting all sorts of insults and threats at you but it was hard to make out over all the shooting.

“You shot him!” Cooper shouted over the hail fire of bullets.

You rolled your eyes and did your best to reload the gun with your wobbly hand. “He pissed me off,” you shouted back at him. You leveled the gun over the top of the shelves and fired blindly. There was a loud yelp and then another Bitch shouted at you, so you must have hit something. 

“You know, I was trying to handle this civilly,” Cooper jumped to his knees and turned around quickly. He fired off a quick succession of shots, four bodies dropped as he did. The rate of gunfire slowed a bit as more men fell. He ducked down and ran across the room, throwing himself down next to you. He tossed his guns at you and tugged yours out of your hand. “Reload me,” you nodded and tugged some bullets out of his bandolier while he used your gun to shoot at them. 

“I’m sure you handling it civilly would have ended the exact same fucking way.”

He grinned and sat back next to you, “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe. Maybe not, doesn’t matter now.” You handed him his reloaded guns and he dropped yours in your lap. “Only a few left, use the shelves as cover and circle around behind ‘em.” He didn’t stay to make sure you understood his plan, he immediately set off, drawing the fire away from you and making a run for it. 

“Shit,” you hissed, struggling to your feet and following his instructions. With only a few of them left it should have been quick work to get rid of the last few stragglers, but the guards from outside had heard the scuffle and were rushing in. Cooper shot most of them but one got close enough to snatch his gun from his hands and throw it to the floor. 

Cooper struggled against the man, his towering form easily overpowering Cooper. Though, your friend didn’t seem particularly worried, if anything it looked like he was letting the man live to draw out the fight, like he was enjoying it. 

You were going to just leave him to it when you saw the same bastard from before with the knife sneaking up behind him again. You rush forward, scooping up Cooper’s gun as you go and shove the man backwards. 

He grunts at the impact but he refused to be deterred. He charges at you, eyes red with rage and blackened mouth frothing like a rabid dog. You try and keep your guard up but you’ve got a gimp leg and a useless arm, it’s not a fight you’re going to win. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you into him. You grunt, breathing out slowly as you feel his knife slide into your gut. You glance down at the rusted blade and shove your gun under his chin. His eyes widen when you draw the hammer back but you don’t flinch when you pull the trigger, not even when chunks of skull and hair start raining down on you. 

Cooper must have finally noticed the tussle happening behind him because he draws his second gun out from under his coat and ends his little fight with the last of them. You must be in shock, you still haven’t fully experienced the pain that you should. 

There’s a knife sunk past the handle slammed into your gut, you should be feeling something shouldn’t you? You’re sure it’s the adrenaline still pumping through you. Your body is warm from how fast your blood is pumping, your ears ringing from all the gunshots and head spinning from the amount of blood steadily leaking out of the wound. 

“Hey,” you turn around to face him and his eyes widen ever so slightly. You lose your footing and he darts forward, quick arms grab you and draw you into his chest. You clutch onto the sleeve of his jacket, letting all of your weight rest on him while you try and get your panicked breathing under control. 

You’ve had worse injuries than this. As hard as it is to believe, in your time up here, you’ve survived a lot worse than some measly stab wound. 

So why does this feel so fucking bad?

“Oh,” you moan in pain, nearly doubling over. A feeling like a million exposed nerves being set on fire stops you from falling to the floor, instead you push off Cooper and struggle to your feet. 

“Alright, come on,” he grabs your arm again and you have the ridiculous urge to just shove him off you. Your head is swimming,  you feel like you could float away. You look down at the knife again and finally realize just how large it is. One of those hunting ones that was about the width of your hand curled into a fist. 

Well, fuck.

“Hey,” he snaps when you stumble away from him again. “Sit your stubborn ass down, you need help.” He yanks on the straps of your shirt, holding you up and dragging you to a chair, you don’t have much choice as he forces you to sit. Though, the motion causes a wave of excruciating pain to flare through you. 

He kneels in front of you and rips your shirt open, you’re in too much pain to complain about it right now. He hums low in the back of his throat as he takes in the wound. With no warning whatsoever he grabs the knife by the handle and yanks it out like he’s ripping off a fucking bandaid. 

You nearly scream, lurching forward and shoving him away from you. The sudden shock of pain has left you half blind and panting like an animal. “What the fuck was that?” You force out through gritted teeth. He plants a hand on your shoulder and presses you firmly against the back of the chair. 

“Need to get you a Stimpak.” He takes your hand in his and presses it against the wound. Where blood was once oozing, it’s now gushing. You hadn’t realized just how much keeping the knife in had kept the blood at bay. With how rapidly it’s leaving you now you’re afraid. 

You’re afraid that you might not be able to make it back from the edge with just a Stimpak. You can already feel your fingers going cold, pretty soon you won’t be able to flex them and then you’d lose feeling in your arms too. 

“Hey,” he uses the grip he has on your hand to press down on the wound. You groan but he keeps the pressure steady. His eyes bore into your dazed ones, some odd expression in them. “You don’t get to give up. Keep pressure on this, understand me?” Your head flops forward in a lazy nod. 

He could have been gone for a minute or an hour, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Your head is foggy, coherent thoughts replaced by loopy ones. You’re struggling to remember where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing. 

Just as your hand slips from the wound, he comes back. He grabs your hand and places it back, holding it there with his own. You appreciate the way he warms your fingers back up, but the rest of you is freezing too. Maybe he’d share his jacket. 

The thought of him sharing anything makes you laugh and he gives you a frustrated look. “Don’t go losing it on me. Not yet at least.”

You lean forward, face nearly pressed against his and grin. “You know, I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

He scoffed, opening the Stimpak with one hand and preparing the injector. “Yeah, for what?”

“Saving your life, dick.”

You’re caught off guard when he slams the needle into your stomach, your lips part with a silent gasp and you wince at the cool rush of medicine. He grins at you, “Well, thank you for being the only dumbass to get herself stabbed in a gun fight.”

The medicine works fast, you learned that from when he’d shot you. You can already start to feel the pulse of blood slowing and your head clearing up slightly. “Asshole,” you hiss, leaning away from him. But his eyes stay trained on you, on both of your blood covered hands and where they still rest, linked together, on your stomach. 

You find yourself taking advantage of his distraction to really look at him. It bothers you, how after everything, his eyes are still so pretty. It’s the first thing that drew your attention when you were younger. Those eyes of his had you swooning from the first time you saw him on the big screen. 

He catches you but you can’t find it in yourself to care. There’s something odd in the air, a lingering tension from the kiss you’d never discussed. From the silent partnership you’d never voiced. You’d nearly gotten yourself killed for him tonight, the thought finally seemed to be dawning on him. 

His eyes drop to your lips and he leans in. He doesn’t get very far, lips just barely brushing yours before you’re jerking back in surprise. You’re bleeding out in his hands and he kisses you? Your hand is up and cracking across his cheek before you can think about it. 

His head whips to the side with a satisfying crack. He lets out a breathy chuckle, using his free hand to soothe the area you’d hit. He stretches the tension out of his jaw and shakes his head before he looks at you again. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you. You definitely shouldn’t be further entertaining his ideas that he holds any sort of possession for you, but you’d just realized what that look in his eyes had been earlier. He had been worried about you. 

Cooper has always been the one who protected you. Not the other way around. And as twisted as he’d become, it still relatively remained the same dynamic today. You’d caught him off guard earlier, putting yourself in danger like that for him. And he had been worried about you. 

You grab him by the collar of his jacket and drag him forward before he can decide what to do with the fact that you slapped him. Your lips meet again and he hovers over you on your chair. The hand on your stomach pushes harder against you, deepening the pressure and making you groan into his mouth. 

He doesn’t waste time, deepening the kiss and letting his other bloodied hand drift into your hair. His fingers curl around the strands and he yanks your neck back, manipulating you how he wants and bending you to his desires. You melt into it, into the complete control you allow him to momentarily wield over you. 

You let your mind go blank and just focus on him. You can pretend, for now, that you’re in his old house. You’re coming back after a date at one of those fancy restaurants that he hates, but he takes you there anyway so you can have an excuse to dress up. 

He’ll whisper I love you and drag you to the couch. You’ll start there, his kisses traveling lower until he’s dragging you back to his bedroom. You’ll feel valued, cherished, loved. Cooper will take care of you. 

He parts slowly from you, still keeping a firm grip on your hair. It takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open again. You’re sure you look like a mess, staring up at him with glossy eyes and swollen lips, completely drenched in your own blood. 

“Don’t think about him when I’m the one kissing you, darling.” Your eyes widen and he lets you go. He shoves back from you and paces towards his bag. Any warmth in his eyes, any care, was gone. 

You want to say something to drag him back but the moment has passed. It’s not like he was wrong, you were pretending he was someone completely different to make yourself feel better. 

But you couldn’t make yourself feel guilty when you remembered half the reason you needed the comfort was because of who he was now. He comes back with a needle and thread. He lets the needle hover over the men’s fire for a moment before he approaches you with it. “Stimpak will only do so much, need to sew you up.”

You nodded and looked away as he knelt down and pressed the needle into your skin. You barely felt it,  could barely pay attention to him when your thoughts were on what it was like before. What he was like before. Sometimes it makes you sick to your stomach to look at him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[inamagicalhallucination]

@karmicpunishment

au where atsushi never joins the ada and works at idk some cafe or some shit

anyway theres a big grocery store near his tiny apartment and it always has the best deals and the best sales but not that many ppl around him go there much to atsushi's shock

but atsushi always goes there to shop - and at first he thinks maybe he shouldnt be here becuz the workers there always look surprised to see him

but then they dont say anything to him and the other costumers are rlly nice so he doesn't think too much of it

how is he, new to yokohama, supposed to know taht this grocery store is usually only frequented by the more scary and strange ppl (ada and pm)

how is he supposed to know that the cute scary looking vampire guy who gives him tea recommendations and stares at him before pointing at things that go well with tea and leaving when atsushi thanks him but always giving him recommendations when he sees him again and occasionally going out of his way to buy something atsushi's eyes lingered on but he didn't get cuz of prices is actually the rabid dog of the mafia

how is he supposed to know that the bandaged guy who only ever buys crabs and looks surprised but listens when atsushi offers to help him buy things thatll go good with them (after all atsushi knows how hard it is to try new food and how overwhelming it is to go from sneaking food from the kitchens to buying whatever he wants) is a ex mafioso current detective

and that the slightly scary but ultimately nice guy with the long blond hair and glasses who took one look at atsushi's cart and immediately wrote down a better, but still cheap, dietary plan is the bandage guys partner

and the guy with the hat and long red hair who helped atsushi carry his stuff to his apartment after atsushi complimented his hat is actually a mafia executive

and the long haired pretty woman who atsushi runs into while she's buying something for her brother is actually scary cute vampire guys sister and an assassin

and the blonde lady who asked for atsushi's help on choosing a snack for her boss is also in the mafia

and the short guy who buys too many snacks and told atsushi his taste in candy was low level and he should buy this too while also stealing the last packet of a brand atsushi wanted to try from his cart was the world's greatest detective (ok actually he knew he was a detective becuz of how he dressed but still)

and the old guy who comes to buy cat stuff and sadly confided in atsushi how he had trouble with a stray he had found and listened carefully to atsushi's advise on how to deal with stray cats, and patted atsushi's had in a way that made atsushi's long forgotten childhood wish of having parents briefly resurface was actually the boss of the ada

and so on

meanwhile everyone else who knows about the store is flabbergasted that some kid just goes in and out with zero fucks and is casually besties w/ everyone there

and then the guild come looking for atsushi heh

[thearkman360]

How Batman: Caped Crusader wasted Firebug

(MAJOR SPOILERS for Batman: Caped Crusader & Batman #318)

Hoo-boy, this is gonna be a long one...

When I heard that Firebug was going to be used in Batman: Caped Crusader I didn't pay it any mind outside of "Oh, using an obscure Batman villain that's like Firefly who isn't Firefly" and when I watched the episode with Firebug I found him to be a funny little goober villain played by Tom Kenny, that might as well have been Firefly, and nothing more. I was a bit shocked by his death since it was very sudden but other than that I didn't care.

After this I decided to look up Firebug and discovered that he has this whole backstory and motive not used in the show. In the comics, Firebug is a veteran named Joey Rigger that targets and burns down apartment buildings in Gotham City not out of rabid pyromania but out of a sympathetic cause; the buildings are deathtraps! (well at least the first two, the third was just bad luck)

His baby sister was killed after ingesting lead paint chips from the walls of the apartment the Rigger family lived in, his father was killed after falling through some stairs and breaking his neck in a different building they moved into after Rigger's sister died, and his mother had a heart attack when the elevator she was in got stuck.

Joey was serving the military at the time when all of this happened, leaving him with a strong sense of guilt. After coming back home, now with demolitions expertise, he decided to ensure that nobody would ever be harmed by the apartment buildings again and that's why he burns them down as Firebug. His plan is to just destroy the buildings that killed his family and then go back to normal. He even sends anonymous tips to the police so that people can evacuate in time, though he first encountered Batman when he was saving people that were still stuck in the building. Not saying his actions are morally correct, the third building was literally just a bad elevator, but you can't really blame him.

Eventually, Batman foils Firebug from destroying the skyscraper that killed his mother and Firebug tries to suicide bomb himself, Batman, and the skyscraper but jumps at Batman, who dodges, and Firebug falls out of the skyscraper and explodes.

Firebug is a really interesting and sympathetic character. In a way he's a dark parallel to Batman; their families were killed by a part of Gotham City, they have expert training in their field, and put on a silly animal costume and try to enact vengeance on the part of Gotham that killed their families.

In Caped Crusader, he's Firefly with a name change. They have Flass and Bullock mistakenly call him "Firefly", he's a deranged pyromaniac, and he has nothing more than that. Why?! Why not just have him be Firefly? Firebug has had two successors, Harlan Combs (a suburban father that murdered his kid's babysitter) and the third Firebug was some asshole that bought Joe Rigger's shit from an auction.

In the Caped Crusader episode "The Night of the Hunters", Firebug targets the slums of Gotham and tries to burn them down. Why not incorporate his backstory and have these slums be where his family died? In the comics, Joey Rigger was depicted as African-American in his first appearance and then white from then on. I'm surprised they didn't have that be part of the plot. Joey's neighborhood was a slum overlooked due to its African-American population and that resulted in poor living conditions that killed his family. But nah, they just had him be bootleg Firefly.

TV show screenshot: Batman: Caped Crusader

Comic screenshot: Batman #318

[agentmarvel]

center image by @/ave661

PART III

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 3,008

cw: simon simps, self-conscious!reader, implied sexual content (thoughts, not actions)

♡

Simon watches from the arched doorway that separates the foyer from his study. The movers glide across the marble floor with precision, weightlessly and without making a sound. They appear and disappear with no rhyme or reason, but the gravity of their presence is felt. It’s almost phantasmagoric. And how fitting it is that he not be the only specter in a home already so full of ghosts.

But like true eidola, he isn’t looking at them - no, no, he’s looking through. In the sea of boxes and dollies, he’s looking at you. You flit about between the manes, trying your hardest to communicate with them. You ask how you can help, what you can do, what they need, and it all goes unanswered. A residual haunting of sorts, milling about like they don’t even know you’re there, keeping strictly to the task at hand. He’d toss you a planchette, but it won’t do any good. The movers are under unflinching orders - Mrs. Riley is not to lift a finger to move her things into her new home.

The frustration is written all over your face. Your brows are furrowed, arms folded across your chest, pretty mouth set into a discontented frown. He sees you let out a sulky huff, almost petulant in nature. Quietly, he chuckles.

He understands that you’re not happy with the situation. Frankly, he can’t imagine what a whirlwind the last few months has been for you. Finding out that your father is not, in fact, an accountant, but rather one of the world’s largest arms dealers is a nasty enough shock on its own; but having a surprise marriage to an absolute stranger sprung on you adds another, more complicated layer. He doesn’t fault your displeasure in the slightest. Maybe you’ll soften up to the changes over time.

Still, your lack of beguile does nothing to temper his cruel amusement. It’s cute, the way you glare at the passers-by who won’t acknowledge you; hell, he half expected you to stick your tongue out at one of them by now. And the way you huff and roll your eyes? You’re like a child on the receiving end of a scalding scolding, temper ticking like a timebomb, and it’s absolutely adorable.

Your eyes lock with his across the room, and Simon gives you a nod of acknowledgement, well aware that you likely aren’t in the mood to chat just yet. At that, your already perturbed expression sours further. He sees a muscle in your jaw tick tighter. The tips of your fingers curl into your palm firmly. Your clenched fists remain at your sides as you storm towards him unflinchingly. The movers part accordingly.

“I want a divorce,” you announce militantly, planting yourself in front of him with a steely stare.

Simon can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he says, “Not an option, love.”

“Why not? It’s an option for everyone else.”

You’re remarkably even-tempered in confrontation, he’ll give you that. Even if the edges of your facade crack beneath the weight of your voice.

“Not for us.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t give me that shit! You’ve fulfilled whatever fucking weird obligation this is, and I’d like to get back to my own life.”

Despite the snarling, teeth bared like a rabid dog ready to rip him to pieces, you must not have inherited your father’s penchant for petulance. You’ve yet to stamp your foot, throw yourself on the cold floor, or start screaming bloody murder until you get your way. You’ve yet to even shed a tear, despite the waves of obvious fury coursing through you. He can see the watery waves forming in your lash line, but you’re trying your damnedest not to show any signs of weakness. Simon respects that.

When you speak again, you’re quieter, calmer. The heave of your chest subsides, a storm of rage quelled with honey instead of vinegar.

“Look, I don’t know what sort of dirt my dad has on you to force you into this, but I promise I can keep him quiet, okay? I’ll take all the blame for it; I’ll tell him you fought tooth and nail against it. I’ll - “

“He didn’t force me,” Simon responds straight away. It’s appalling, the thought that you would just assume this was entirely involuntary, like you were somehow unworthy or undeserving. He figured that your father would’ve at least told you that he chose you.

A look of bewilderment crosses your sweet face just briefly.

“What?”

“Look at me, love; you really think anyone’s going to force me to do anythin’ I don’t wanna?”

You shrink back a hair, shoulders falling from their tense, raised position.

“No, I-I suppose not…” You blink, suddenly avoidant of looking him in the eye. Anxious and notably bothered, you wrap your arms around yourself. Simon swears he can see the pieces of the puzzle slotting together behind your eyes. Gently, he tugs at the sleeve of your cardigan, jerking his head down the hall as he turns on his heel.

“C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room?” You sound surprised.

“What, you thought I’d make you share my bed? M’not a monster, sweetheart. You’re welcome to crawl in with me any time you like, but I’m sure you’d prefer your own space for now, yeah?”

Simon swears he can feel the heat radiating off your face from behind him. You stutter out a response he doesn’t quite catch, but the way your words catch has him biting the inside of his cheek to disguise his levity. Still, a lopsided little smirk sneaks through.

You tag along at his heel, following him silently until he guides you up a flight of stairs and stops outside a closed door. He can feel your eyes burning a hole in the side of his skull. The tips of his fingers close around the knob, metal not uttering even a hint of displeasure under his grip, and he pushes the door open before stepping aside. Gesturing you forward, he waits until you’ve crossed the threshold to accompany you.

It’s one of his favorite rooms, he’ll admit. What once sat as an unused auxiliary office for the boys has been gutted, morphed into a dream. The walls went from boring beige to a deep, rich green. High ceilings were scraped of their texture and plated with antique bronze tiles, the vague tinge of oxidation complementing the hardware fixed to every piece of furniture. An espresso stained dresser matches the vanity, the latter of which has an ornate mirror affixed - one Simon prays you’ll use to learn to worship yourself the same way he intends to when you’re ready to allow him. Headboard secured to the wall with the utmost caution, a king-sized mattress sits atop a sturdy sable frame, its four ornately-carved posts hosting a silken mesh canopy. The way it hangs reminds him of the house robe he purchased for you, the very one hanging inside the closet right now. He won’t tell you it’s there, though; he’ll leave it for you to find.

The weeks worth of research and hard work that went into making the room perfect for you were well-spent, based on the look of absolute wonderment on your face.

God, you’re fucking precious. Simon wants to spit out the words on the tip of his tongue and drink down your speechlessness. You’re absolutely fucking darling in the way you take in every inch of the space, awestruck and silently appreciating his efforts as your eyes rove the intricate crown molding, fingers skating across the black satin drapes that match your sheets, sweet mouth falling open in a gasp as you find the first of many surprises he’s left for you - a large vase filled with bat orchids and black baccara roses.

“Thank you, Mr. Riley,” you say softly, a little wobble in your voice. You’re not teary-eyed, but certainly overwhelmed with an emotion he can’t identify on sound alone.

“Just Simon, love.” He hopes the correction will prompt you to repeat it. He wants to know what it sounds like when you say his name.

Instead, you offer a soft, bittersweet smile, nodding.

“Bathroom’s right through that door there.” He gestures towards the stunning en suite that affords you sufficient privacy, far more than you’d receive if you were to share his. 

Clearly that aspect was not thought through entirely; the mental image of you joining him for a shower, dripping wet in more ways than one, flashes behind his eyes. Your hair clinging to your face, pillars of steam shifting and swirling with your every forced exhale, the way your pleas and whimpers would echo through the cavernous space - it’s enough to make him start to chub up in his slacks.

He shakes his head a little and clears his throat.

“Dinner’ll be ready at 6:00 sharp. Got some work things to handle before then, so you’ll have some time to yourself. Rest, unpack, do whatever you want; we’ll go over the rules after dinner, and I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

“Rules?” That caught your attention.

“Yeah.” You prod him with a questioning look, but he doesn’t bend. He doesn’t elaborate, reiterating that he’ll answer any questions you have after dinner. When you don’t press him further, he explains that his office is just down the stairs. If you need him, come get him. Doesn’t matter what for, whether it’s something as simple as asking a question or help with moving a heavy box. Otherwise, the dining room is just off the foyer, and he’ll meet you there in a few hours.

He turns to leave, but your soft voice asking him to wait a moment draws him back.

“What is it, dove?”

You’re silent, but you look like you want to say something, teeth worrying your lower lip as you wring your hands. He cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing with a look of implore. You sigh.

“I… I’m sorry, Simon, about earlier. This is a lot, and I’m still trying to make sense of all of it. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

He waves you off, shaking his head. 

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he answers. “Lot to process, take the time to sort it out, yeah?”

You nod, a little sheepish, and he slips out the door, broad shoulders hiding the fact that he’s palming himself as he walks away.

♡

He’s just finishing his meticulous plating of dinner when you come around the corner. It’s 5:59, the clock ticking over to exactly 6:00 the moment he places the second plate on the table top.

Your tired eyes find his mid-yawn and stretch, and Simon is reduced to a puddle of a man as he takes you in.

An oversized sleep shirt hangs off one of your shoulders - one big enough to be his - obscuring your comely curves in a way that ought to be outlawed. Your tiny shorts barely peek out beneath the hem, the width of your delectable thighs concealing more fabric than exposed. He imagines your socks were pulled up past your knees when you put them on, but they’ve managed to slouch just below, an egregious error of gravity that he’d gladly get on his own knees to correct.

It’s nauseating, the way his granite form crumbles at your feet. Bones of iron melt pliable and his alkaline blood turns to liquid magma. His mouth runs dry like the Sahara, begging for a taste of you to quench the savage thirst. 

Simon is not a soft man, and yet, you’ve created a crater in his chest the size of your palm. Touch him; your fingers will slot just so in the impression. Dig a little deeper, and you’ll find a hollow cavity. The heart that couldn’t flourish there sprouted roots, planting itself in your hands. He barely knows you, but every fiber of his being reaches for you, like vines of ivy climbing towards the sun. He’s content to allow it as long as your warmth stays near.

“What’s all this?” you ask softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Cacio e pepe, chicken instead of pasta, with a nice pecorino romano risotto,” he replies coolly, gesturing to the empty seat in front of you. “Your mum told me you love Italian, so I thought it’d be a nice welcome meal.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Simon; thank you.” Your voice wobbles a little, thick with emotion. Hesitance takes hold of your hands as they wrap around the back of the chair. The muscles in your forearms twitch. Simon can see your gears turning, a battling raging on behind your eyes.

Patiently, he watches, waiting to see which side will win. Hell, he’d like to know who’s fighting to begin with.

“Oh, I-I should really go change,” you finally whisper, doubt clouding your downcast eyes. “I’m not dressed appropriately. You made such a nice dinner, and I look - ”

“Nothin’ wrong with what you’re wearing now.” It’s a challenge, daring you to argue. His expression is titanium.

With a frantic, trembling hand, you wipe a stray tear off your cheek. You look like you’re on the verge of a break, cracking under a pressure that Simon isn’t applying. He shifts around the edge of the table, moving in behind you like a mirage in the blink of an eye. His fingers curl around yours, gently prying your hands from the chair. A shudder runs through your body. The hiccup that follows gives you away. It’s a sob. And he’ll be damned if he isn’t the kintsugi to the fractures in your psyche.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, squeezing your hands. You shake your head, sniffling. “C’mon, sweetheart, look at me, yeah? Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

You make a half-turn, and Simon’s quick to release your far hand, instead settling his palm against your back to rub little circles.

“Atta girl; good job…” Soothing. Calm. “Just breathe, alright? Everything’s okay.”

That’s not what he wants to say. He wants to say that you’re safe, that he’ll fix your fragile pieces and make you whole again, that he’ll cut the tongue out of anyone who ever tries to make his wife feel inferior again. But he can’t say any of that right now, so he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, pulling a hand free to swipe at your cheeks with the back of it. “I promise I’m not always like this. I’m just tired; I wasn’t thinking about my clothes, I - “

“Stop.” Firm. Gentle. “I don’t care what you wear. If you’re comfortable, you don’t need to change. Dinner together ain’t a big formal event. You haven’t eaten all day, so let’s eat before the food gets cold, yeah?”

You stare at him for a moment, face blank and eyes vacant. Unshed tears are blinked back.

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.”

But you don’t move. You don’t shy away from the way his fingertips graze your spine in spirals. You don’t look away from him, eyes locked on molten honey. His tongue twitches behind his teeth, a vicious need to devour settling into his jaw.

God, he wants to eat you alive, swallow you whole. A bright-eyed little rabbit caught in the maw of an anaconda. You’d taste so sweet, wouldn’t you? The mess between your thighs would match the shimmery streaks on your cheeks, and Simon would do nothing but make it worse. He’d not rest until you’re dripping against his open mouth, face slick with your arousal, legs shaking as they frame his head. You’d have to beg him to stop, too overwhelmed to speak properly, throat screamed raw and gripping the sheets with enough force to tear. That’s the only time he ever wants to see you cry.

Gently, Simon guides your hands from the back of the chair. He pulls it out for you to sit, and you do so unceremoniously with a whispered gratitude.

He settles across the table, unhesitant to dig into his plate. It’s better this way; keeps his mouth occupied so he doesn’t continue to salivate over his darling little wife. You take your first bite shortly after and make a noise that does nothing for his growing erection.

“Simon, this is really fucking good.” Your hand covers your mouth as you speak. It’s hushed and meek, but your sincerity is written in the delicately creasing threads at the corners of your eyes.

“Thank you,” he answers, amused. “Good to know someone appreciates my hard work.”

“You made this yourself?” You sound surprised, and Simon chuckles.

“That I did. Quite enjoy cooking for special occasions.”

“Is this a special occasion?”

He nods.

“��Course it is.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression present. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. When your eyes meet his, though, you break contact immediately, looking back down at your plate to spear another bite with that same soft grin.

“Color me surprised,” you murmur. “I thought for sure you’d have a chef.”

Simon hums.

“Bold assumption.”

“Oh, come on! Look at your house! Is that so unreasonable?” You titter, faux exasperation lacing your tone.

“Our house,” he corrects. “And we do have a chef. I gave him the night off.”

You fall silent at that, face morphing into something unreadable, no discernable direction of affect. It worries Simon just briefly, like he’s said the wrong thing. But he’s not wrong, not really. Everything of his is yours now, too - his home, his money, his empire, his heart. It’s all yours. Truthfully, there’s nothing in this world that he wouldn’t give to you. He’s your husband now; that sort of apathy would be a dereliction of his duties.

“Our house,” you parrot, mulling over the taste. That saccharine little simper returns, and you draw your lower lip between your teeth, trying to hide a degree of mirth.

Maybe you’ll come around to all of this sooner than he thought.

Maybe you’ll fall just as hard just as fast.

part iv

[cambion-companion]

"Hold Monster"

Based on this amazing post and artwork. I couldn't help but write something for our beloved INT 8 Tav from 1st POV since that's what I feel most comfortable writing.

Raphael x reader!Tav | Tav thinks the hold monster spell works in a very different way

You certainly hadn't intended to trip and fall into the portal, landing face-first on the polished marble floor of Raphael's entryway.

Your presence had been noticed immediately by Raphael who, upon recognizing you, wore a rather aggrieved expression. He set down his quill carefully and rose to full towering height, a slight twist of bemusement curling his lips. "Here I assumed you could go an hour without indulging in foolishness." He strode toward you and gripped you by the scruff like a wayward kitten. "You just caused me to lose a bet with Korilla."

"I really don't know how this happened!" You protested against his grasp as he dragged you back towards the portal. "I would've knocked if you had a door!"

Raphael released you with a slight push, his wings flexing as he glowered down at you. "Innocent or not, a trespass will be received as such."

"Ah! Raphael, it was an accident!" You began to panic as his eyes glowed a bright gold and flames began to dance upon the tips of his fingers. "Oh, not again." You groaned, wracking your brains for something to counter his retribution."

You withdrew a small amount of silver from your pocket and shrieked. "I cast hold monster!!" Then charged at the cambion head-on.

So surprised was he by your yell and sudden movement, Raphael couldn't react in time before you leapt upon him. You wrapped your arms and legs around his torso and hips, clinging to him like a rabid spider monkey.

The force with which you jumped him caught both of you off guard and Raphael toppled to the floor, his wings failing to catch his weight in time. You felt his grip pierce your sides as he stared up at you in utter shock for a moment. The spell had worked, it seemed.

You panted. "I don't want my bottom singed again like last time. That wasn't very nice."

Raphael grimaced, his face sharpening again as his surprise subsided. Emotions warred across his features. "You are a most confounding creature. If I believed you at all capable of rational thought, you'd be a pile of ash this very moment. Now...get off."

"Sorry, I can't." You shook your head sorrowfully. "The spell lasts a minute."

Raphael growled low in his throat, his wings stretching as he slowly got to his feet. You still clung to him, holding him tightly as you could.

With great care and powerful restraint, Raphael removed you from his person limb by limb.

"Wow, you're strong." You said with awe, panting a little from the exertion. Seeing the look on his face you backed slowly towards the portal. "Okay, I can see you're busy. I'll be going now."

"I should think so." Sparks of hellfire danced between Raphael's fingertips as he looked at you, his expression much like one who is considering how best to skin a deer.

Once you'd disappeared back to the material plane, Raphael grunted and looked around his immaculate manor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the infernal air. "For the crown."

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Random Thoughts: Klaus Mikaelson

Voice of the Wolf

Klaus’ wolf is just as obsessed with his mate as he is

A werewolf has a voice in their head once they trigger the gene and it speaks to them. All wolves have this, though few talk about it to anyone other than other wolves since the voices can be…hostile at best…vicious and violent at worst

The voice in Klaus’ head was cut off from him when his mother cursed him and though he had only had that voice in his head for about a month from the time he turned and killed someone until his mother cursed him that next full moon, he truly had missed it. The voice, though terrifying at first, really helped him embrace who and what he was when no one else ever had.

Once he had broken his curse Klaus once again had the ability to find his mate as a wolf and when he did that voice in his head howled so loud it gave him a headache (though brief it may have been) and it was rabid for you

Every once in a while it scared him with how desperate the beast was for you but Klaus knew even as a wolf he would never harm you. When he followed you those first few days after finding you his wolf insisted Klaus just take you and lock you in his home, that he was the only person you would ever need and while there was something very appealing about that idea he knew he could never do that to you.

His wolf was talking nearly every time Klaus was in your presence and while the Hybrid tried to ignore it most of the time and even got it to shut up on occasion, eventually he had to come clean about it as it sometimes became a distraction to him and he didn’t want you thinking he wasn’t listening to you or was uninterested. You were actually understanding about it and even seemingly curious which Klaus enjoyed, he loved that you embraced something about him that no one else ever had

Unfortunately his wolf was often overly sexual and detail oriented which ended with the Hybrid hiding an erection every time the beast went into detail about how perfect your breasts are and how desperate he is to suck on them, or how tight your pussy must be and how much you would love that wolf tongue tasting you deeper than anyone else ever had

Klaus was surprised when you agreed to be there when he shifted one night, while Klaus was conscious and could control himself during his change the wolf is at the forefront of his mind and is more in charge like how it is for every wolf, Klaus may have perks but his wolf is still a wolf.

You didn’t like watching him change, hating the sound of your loves bones breaking and reshaping, not enjoying him in pain but you sucked it up and held his head to your chest, brushing through his hair as it happened and were eventually left with a large hound shoving his snout in your breasts

You allowed him to snuggle you for quite some time before he ran around, letting off some steam and killing people. You awoke later that night to the large black wolf hopping into your bed and pressing his body to yours. At one point when he shoved his nose between your legs you smacked his snout, shocking him when you didn’t even flinch as he growled at you, going so far as to ‘grr’ right back at him

The beast in Klaus’ mind was just as desperate and needy for you as he is and you loved it, every second of it as it was also just as much of a Puppy as your thousand year old boyfriend was

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

Random Thoughts

[nkn0va]

Request for Chie, Yukiko, Rise, and Naoto where they have a best friends to lovers relationship with their S/O. I'm talking about Yu and Yosuke levels of friendship. Please and thank you.

Ouch...almost two months...murdered motivation sucks...

-Chie first met you back in middle school. Your mutual love of martial arts movies led you to becoming fast friends, even though she was much more... enthusiastic than you were. You really just liked watch people fighting but Chie took it to the extreme.

-Not that you minded by any means of course, you looked up and admired her passion and drive. When you two met Yukiko as you entered high school you quickly became the glue holding the three of you together.

-It wasn't long before Yukiko started shipping the two of you together. Your dynamic just really struck a chord with her, she couldn't really describe it. As the Investigation team is formed and more people join, they start sharing the same sentiment.

-It never really occurred to Chie, mostly because she's not exactly a wise sage, but it certainly at least crossed your mind once or twice. Being around her just felt so...natural. It sort of felt like you were already romantically involved.

-It's after your close encounter with death when you caught the true culprit of the murders that you realized you had to do something or nothing would happen. It got you thinking on your own mortality and the realization that if you wanted to see change in your short life, you needed to make it happen yourself.

-As soon as you did work up the courage to confess your real feelings, Chie immediately breathes a sigh of relief, both at the fact that you felt the same she did and that she didn't need to take initiative herself anymore.

-Truthfully, not much changes People were teasing you about being in a relationship already for a reason. But there is that extra bit of tension when you're together. But it's the good kind.

-Your parents moved to Inaba when you were a child, and naturally you had to go along with them. While you were waiting for furniture to be moved into the new place you all went exploring and ended up at the Amagi Inn everyone was seemingly talking about.

-While you're looking around for things to do, you meet a girl your age who you learn is the daughter of the owners and you become friends pretty quickly.

-You're the first to find out and worry when Yukiko goes missing during your second year of high school. Once you figure out that Chie, Yosuke, and the new transfer student have found out where she is and they're planning to save her, you quickly assert yourself into the group, no room for negotiation.

-You lowkey lead the charge, leadership from Yu be damned. You're not letting anything happen to Yukiko as long as you still draw breath.

-Once you confront Yukiko's Shadow you go pretty much into overdrive. If her Shadow wasn't as strong as it was you would've thrown hands with it personally, even if you were weak to Fire skills after awakening your Persona.

-You barely manage to slip by and get Yukiko out safely after she's able to accept her Shadow. Something's still bothering you, though. The way her Shadow called you her prince, coming to save her.

-Upon questioning her, she suddenly gets rather nervous, but eventually confesses that she'd had feeling for you for some time now. You were able to act normal around her, supporting her no matter what.

-And you'd still stick by her no matter what. But this time, as her S/O.

-You were shopping one day in Junes when a girl your age quickly approached you, asking you to help her hide. Not really knowing what else to do when put in such a situation out of nowhere, you complied.

-After the surprisingly large crowd that came out of nowhere left, she breathed a sigh of relief and introduced herself as THE Risette, having no choice now. To her surprise though, you weren't a rabid fan. Yeah you'd heard of her, but had no interest in her status.

-Needless to say this came as quite a shock to her, but it also came with a huge opportunity. the opportunity to make a real, genuine friend without needing to worry about it going south because of her fame.

-So that's exactly what she did. You were keeping out of public eye as much as possible so people didn't catch on to your repeated plots in hiding her whenever the two of you went out, doing normal teenager things and growing closer.

-The feeling of security, of being able to be a normal person around you was something Rise didn't want to lose. Someone she could actually be Rise with, not Risette.

-The moment she knew she wanted you as an S/O, she made that clear immediately. And of course you couldn't say no to such an infectiously energetic, upbeat lady.

-Your dad was in the Inaba police force, he had been for quite a while. You accompanied him to the station one day, and for a change, actually found someone your age.

-An androgynous young man, claiming to be a student detective brought on to help solve the recent murder cases. You ask if you can help any, you did at least pick up a couple things from your old man. He said he'd get back to you if he ever needed anything and thanked you for the offer.

-It's not long before this new acquaintance, Naoto, does in fact get back to you. You two go out somewhere to eat and discuss/speculate about the case. Naoto however quickly became drawn to you, somehow, and the you ended up hanging out more casually, slowly but surely.

-Naoto in a twist of fate, however, ended up going missing as well like a few other people have. You were worrying for days about whether or not everything was alright, worried another body would be added to the count.

-Miraculously, and much to your relief, he ends up safe and sound, though saying there was a big secret to reveal. Naoto was actually...a woman.

-After listening to his- er... her reasoning for the disguise, you completely understand why it was done, much to her relief. You don't judge her for it.

-Once the secret's out, she opens up much more than before, and soon it's not long before a different kind of feeling between you two starts to develop. Surprisingly, she's the one to confess first. After confronting her Shadow, she realized she needed to be true to herself more, thought you don't need to know about the whole world inside the TV deal.

-She's inexperienced, but she's trying. It takes her a while to accept the fact you appreciated her for her, but the idea of calling you her S/O definitely wasn't one she was against.

[mrschristensen]

Kinktober Day 21 (10/21): Somnophilia starring Sam Monroe

Kinktober Masterlist

WARNINGS: smut (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK), female s/o, soft (ish) dom Sam/sub s/p, somnophilia, ass fucking (though no actual penetration), humping, pet names/name calling (baby), lmk if I missed any!

synopsis: In the middle of the night, it's just too damn hard to go to bed when Sam has some... unfinished business.

WC: 545 words

"Shit..." Sam curses under his breath, trying to be as quiet as he can. He can't even remember how he got into this situaton; oh wait, now he does.

It was a long, long day at school for the both of them. His lovely girlfriend is typically the one that's better at school, but she always helped him if he needed it, so his grades were definitely a bit better. However, both of them felt like absolute shit today, so naturally, they were gloomy for basically the entirety of the school day.

It comforted them to ironically be in all the same classes together, but it was nonetheless very draining, physically and mentally. So she hunkered down and went to bed pretty early, surprising because they usually weren't asleep until around 10 at the least.

So of course, he was left to his own vices since he was completely restless, no matter how hard he tried to sleep. And, go figure, his cock was raging with pent up emotions and hormones, pre seeping through his boxers a bit. It was frustrating, really. Since she was clearly so tired, he'd feel really bad if he woke her up. He knew that normally they'd have sex at least once on the daily (since they were so madly in love with each other), but it wouldn't make him feel any less guilty.

He tried his hand for a bit, but it was never the same, like always. He needed her, even if it wasn't really her because she was fast asleep. But he didn't think she'd mind; if she did, well... He just wouldn't do it again in the future. It was that simple, right?

So now he had his painfully hard dick between her ass cheeks, thrusting up and down through the hole he made to give him some friction. He treaded with caution and moved slowly, however, afraid she might stir while he continued his what he viewed as embarrassing acts. What the hell was he thinking, fucking her in her sleep?!

But he couldn't deny, it was pretty hot. No, scratch that; it was really hot. It was definitely getting him going, because he picked up the pace ever so slightly, and felt his orgasm building up.

"Yes, yes, yes-" he pants quietly, and he hears her let out a noise in her sleep, making him stop immediately. She shifts a bit, then seems to be still asleep, so he continues, getting him right on the edge again. He was pretty much humping her at this point, like a rabid dog in heat.

He was way too caught up in the moment, just nearing his orgasm, when-

"Sam?!-"

He couldn't stop, it was way too late; he let out a half groan, half whimper, his hot ropes of seed shooting out onto her ass. He could hear her breath hitch and hips jolt slightly at the contact, his eyes widening in shock as he came down from his high and realized what happened.

"Shit, baby, I'm so sorry," he breathed out, quickly getting off of her and hastily tucking himself back into his boxers. "I'll go get something to clean you up, I swear-"

"No, it's okay," she cuts him off, smiling just a bit. "I mean... you can get a cloth or somethin' yeah, but... That was kinda hot."

[bundoesnotcompete]

A nice slice of fluff. Reader is kept GN. Reader is to be married to Robin and is a fellow singer, the fanbases react. Less than 1000 words, mostly just a dust bunny of a story.

LEAKS OF ROBIN'S LATEST ALBUM SHOW GUEST SINGER

The release of Robin's latest album is just around the corner! Recent leaks have shown that a special guest is said to appear on it. Just who is this mystery being? Well, its none other than….

FANS TAKE TO SOCIAL MEDIA TO EXPRESS ANGER AT ROBIN'S LATEST ALBUM

Fans of Robin have taken to social media to express their anger at leaks detailing the surprise guest on her newest album. Singer….

You continued to scroll through social media absentmindedly as you laid on the plush couch. People were taking your appearence on Robin's latest album rather well. You had those that were angry but the majority seemed to be excited.

You were known to sing more, how do you put it, preverse songs. Though your latest album was more romantic and loving, your fans were still more unsure about your music shift and guest appearance. You latest album was the best selling one you've had. Though, some of Robin's more rabid fans were losing their mind at having you sing with their idol.

“I've brought snacks.“ Your lover's voice came from the door as she entered. You got up and headed to the kitchen where she was setting snacks on the island counter. You leaned on the counter as she took fruits and cakes out of the bags.

“Wow, you got quite a bit there. I thought you had gone to get stuff for dinner. Instead you came with cake. You must love me too much.“ You teased her. Robin smiled and laughed lightly.

“I got everything else, I just happened to be a little hungry.“ You walked around her and grabbed the other bags and began to put away their contents. You opened the fridge as you began to speak again.

“You know just what i like too, don't you Pretty Dove? All the good stuff.“ You shut the fridge and set the empty bags aside. Robin still faced away from you Anna was focused on setting the island counter right. You wrapped your arms around her waist and hugged her. “I will cook tonight. Are you ready for tomorrow?“

She hummed and smiled. You knew she had been nervous for tomorrow. Between the album debut and your announcement of marriage, she was a bit worried yet excited.

“I think everyone will love our hard work.“ You let go of her when she gently tapped your arm. “I'll help make dinner.“

Dinner was quickly made and consumed. You both decided to go to bed early that night to prepare for the big day tommorow.

FANS ARE RAVING ABOUT ROBIN'S LATEST ALBUM

Robin's latest album has finally dropped and it has fans crying.

“Its so romantic. I wish i had someone to live me like these songs.“ One user wrote on social media this morning.

“I was super worried at first but now im like super happy. I was blown out the water by their voices.“ Another wrote….

ROBIN ANNOUNCES MARRIAGE TO FELLOW SINGER

After the debut of her latest album ���Love Across the Cosmos”, Robin has announced that she will be marrying….

ENTERTAINMENT WORLD SHOCKED AT ROBIN'S LATEST ANNOUNCEMENT

Sunday was giving you a strained smile. You knew he was not too fond of you ever since you were children. Declaring that you would marry his sister had angered him as a kid and you two just never have gotten along since. Jokes on him, you were getting to marry her. You were nervous to see your soon to be wife in her dress.

“Calm down, your pacing is going to wear a hole into the floor.“ Sunday stated from his seat in your room. You were about to walk out soon to stand and wait for the love of your life.

“Shut up bird boy. What if something goes wrong. What if she doesn't like how i look? What will everyone else think?“ Your anxiety was worsening. Sunday sighed. He stood up and walked to where you were pacing.

Grabbing your shoulders he spoke, “Listen, I tolerate you because my sister loves you so I am going to only tell you this once. No one is going to say anything wrong and nothing will go wrong. You look fine. She will love your outfit.“ The bell rang outside and Sunday shoved you toward the door. “Now, you've practiced this so everything will be fine. I have made sure of it.“ You nodded to him and walked out.

The next minutes passed by in a blur as you waited for Robin. It was worth it when she did, you breath was taken away by her beauty. You held in tears as she approached. Her smile was obvious as she got closer. She came to a stop beside you and you turned to face her.

As she stood in front of you, you thought of everything you two had been together. From childhood friends to popular singers to now. You both were about to say your vows and make it an offical. The words has come easily to you and only she had to say them back. A distant, childish part of you couldn't wait to rub it in Sunday's face that you got to marry her.

“You may now kiss the bride.“ A single kiss and cheers erupted with the crowd. Robin broke away from you and smiled. She had tears in her eyes.

“I'm so happy I got see you like this.“ She giggled. “Let's go, we've got a cake to cut and a celebration to have.“ She took your hand in hers and you both left to celebrate the days ahead.

OFFICAL PHOTOS FROM ROBIN'S WEDDING RELEASED. CLICK HERE TO SEE MORE

[ddejavvu]

idk if you’re still doing fairy!reader stuff but if you are: fairy!reader bringing a raccoon into the trailer (a la Linda Belcher) and Eddie’s just like “ok I love you and he’s adorable but prince jeremy marshmallows should probably go back outside”

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

Eddie's not often speechless when he walks through the door of his trailer, he's usually the one inducing the shock in others. But today it's you that's disrupted the balance of the Munson household, by introducing its newest, furriest member.

He wishes you're sitting on his couch with a dog. He wishes you'd led a stray cat in from the rain. But the animal you're sitting with is grey and black, with stripes of white here and there along its dirty fur. It's chubby, it's tail is draped over the edge of the couch, and it's a fucking raccoon.

You grin up at Eddie, because of course you don't see anything wrong with it. Before he'd swooped you up and made you a bed out of his underwear drawer you'd probably ridden a nearby deer to some sort of fairy farmer's market to stock up on glitter for the week. There's no reason for you to think of raccoons as humans do, so you're a little but confused by Eddie's full stop in the doorway.

"Hi, Eddie," You gush, "This is Jeremy!"

"Jeremy," He muses, watching the raccoon chitter and crawl towards your lap to reach the bag of marshmallows you've raided from the pantry, "You- uh, he likes marshmallows?"

"That's his last name," You hand the raccoon his treat, looking up at Eddie like you're viewing him matter-of-factly over the thick lenses of glasses, "Jeremy Marshmallows."

"Jeremy Marshmallows," He repeats, a little more relaxed as he leans into the doorframe. The animal doesn't seem rabid, just hungry, and he's more interested in munching on the treat between his paws than lunging for Eddie's ankles.

"Well, Mr. Marshmallows," Eddie clears his throat after the racoon's finished his treat, "Uh, hate to be a bad host, but you've gotta head out."

"But he's my friend," You frown, your brows scrunched, "I thought he could live here with us."

"No honey," He tries not to sound patronizing, but it really is a basic concept you need to learn, "You can live here because you don't have fleas. And I can leave you alone without worrying you'll chew through the wall. Raccoons aren't the same."

"But he's my friend," You reiterate, like maybe Eddie just didn't hear you the first time, "And I want him to stay."

"He can stay in the neighborhood," He compromises, watching Jeremy pick another marshmallow from the bag, "But he can't come into the trailer anymore. We'll make him a home, 'kay? Wayne can bring home some scrap wood from work, and I'll make him a real nice little bed. But he has to stay outside."

"He might get cold," You worry, and Eddie holds out a hand, asking for one of the marshmallows. You hand it to him, but he doesn't eat it, as you expect, he holds it up for Jeremy to see.

"He won't get cold, we'll give him a blanket," Eddie promises, "Here, dude. Come on, I know you want this, I'm gonna toss it outside for you. Okay?"

As soon as the animal locks its eyes onto the treat, Eddie chucks it out the door. He hasn't calculated that Jeremy will have to scramble over his feet to exit the trailer, so he does a little jump-and-squeal combo that he's not exactly proud of, but when the raccoon is safely outside, he shuts the door.

"Okay," He huffs, heart rate safely lowered now, "Uh- he didn't shit in here, did he?"

"No," You scowl, "He's not a pig. I hope he's okay."

You flutter beside Eddie's head to peer out the door, and Jeremy has planted himself in the grass just outside the trailer door. He's nibbling on the marshmallow Eddie had thrown, but the man suspects he'll be bored of waiting for more within the hour. That or he'll gnaw through the floor and Wayne will get a surprise in the shower tomorrow.

"He'll be alright, sweetheart," Eddie angles his shoulder towards you, happy when you take the invitation to flutter onto it and sit against his neck, "He's lived out there his whole life; he'll survive. And when we make him his bed, we'll put lots of marshmallows in there for him, okay?"

"Okay," You sigh, leaning your head against his cheek. He nestles into you the best he can without toppling you over, and turns to look over the half-empty bag of marshmallows you'd been feasting on.

"Well, I think we're doing pizza tonight," Eddie muses, "Wayne took the last of the lasagna to work, and those were gonna be dinner."

[dusty-siltstrider]

Alright I'm gonna ruffle some feathers I think but idk I gotta say something.

For this moment and this moment only I'm going to set aside the rabid Viktor fan that I am and speak as a slightly less rabid Vi fan. She's a very close second and I relate to her the most out of the cast. Love her. So on and so forth. At this point the marketing is frustrating me less as a Viktor fan and more as a Vi fan.

When the Annecy people talked about a goth Vi fighting in the pits piss-drunk mad seeing crazy things I was ECSTATIC. Like holy shit that's such a major turn in her personality! Really fills out that whole "what does Vi do when she has no one left to protect" thing! Wow! Not to mention she's gonna be hot but that's a given. What a shocking thing to see when November comes around aaaand there she is in the trailer okay. Along with what is presumably her act 3 timeskip design judging by the longer hair. Element of surprise gone. Cool.

So where the Viktor part of me gets to waste hours yapping about where he's gonna be in season 2, what his arc will be, what he's gonna look like, what's gonna cause divorce era... feel like we're running out of room for speculation for the main 3. Room for imagination, if you will.

Like WE'VE BEEN KNEW ABOUT PIT FIGHTER VI. This isn't a surprise sneak peek anymore, everyone's either seen her in the trailer or at least heard about the Annecy stuff. Personally I no longer have the same level of insane jittery excitement to see how that arc goes in s2 anymore. Her new design is no longer a surprise and they're going to show even more tomorrow lol. I have little room to ponder "huh wonder what VI's gonna be up to." Pit fighter arc gets started and instead of my jaw dropping going "oh my god Vi honey you really are broken aren't you noooo" it's just... yeah that thing I saw during a Netflix event. Damn. Looks cool still but it's not a shock.

This massive point in both the plot and Vi's arc has become a marketing hype machine. Which dampens, you know, the whole "telling a story" thing.

What do I have to speculate about? Cait's whole iron-fist arc is fairly obvious via marketing, Vi's three-act structure has been pretty clearly laid out, they even spoiled Noxus/Ambessa turning on Piltover. Yeah, think we saw it coming, sure, but I kind of like being able to speculate on stories I enjoy. At least Jinx's revolutionary thing is pretty up in the air (which I still believe is a misdirect but I digress).

Please don't get me wrong, I really like her design and I'm still very excited to see where it goes! Obviously there's still plenty of details in between to fill out and yes I'm being slightly dramatic and yes my salt towards yet again no Viktor may be contributing to this frustration and YES pit fighter Vi is sick and the clip will be cool as fuck no matter what. But I'm honestly a little surprised everyone's so thrilled about this. I'm (likely) not watching it solely to preserve at least some element of surprise because I'm so excited for Vi next season and it sucks that they're just giving this all out in marketing.

Assuming this is the Annecy clip, that's just kinda lazy to reuse btw. But whatever this is lengthy and poorly worded enough.

Anyway bringing back the Viktor fan that I am yes I'm bitter yes I miss him yes I will not stop insisting that throwing in a few voice lines is not only perfectly reasonable as a teaser but would be more effective marketing wise than burning out the Cait/Vi/Jinx stuff bc deadass what else can they show us at this point okay thank you goodnight

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

A random guy kidnapped skeleton to escape the police and handcuffed themselves to him. Now they're running through the city, trying to escape. Who complies? Who is not?

Undertale Sans - Chillest kidnapped person ever lol. He's following the guy around, not giving a care in the world, and even asked for a burger midroad because he's hungry. Little did the guy know he didn't ask that in front of Grillby's for nothing. As the two of them sit at the bar, Sans casually says to Grillby that he's getting kidnapped right now and to call Undyne. The guy is so in shock they can't say a word. They're getting arrested not five minutes later, looking so betrayed. Yeah, sorry, he's not that nice. He was trying to gain your trust for this moment lol.

Undertale Papyrus - He's anxious, and late for work, and he hates being late. He's playing along for a little while, before asking the guy if they please can part ways now, promising he won't tell the police or anything. The guy says no. Papyrus sighs. Welp. He tried. He turns around and starts to walk in the other direction, dragging the poor guy around. The man is not happy and threatening him but, uh, it's not like he can't do anything. Papyrus is way stronger and since he's annoyed the man keeps slowing him, he ends up picking him up like a child and carrying him to the police station lol. The man is crying and begging in the end. Undyne is so confused when Papyrus comes to see her and asks if she can unkidnapped him because he's late for work.

Underswap Sans - He plays along, waiting for the guy to bring him back to his hiding place with all his partners in crime. He then discreetly activates his police GPS alert and sends a signal to his colleague lol. The bad guys are for sure surprised when the police show up out of nowhere. Oh no, how did they find them? Truly a mystery for sure. Maybe don't kidnap a cop accidentally next time.

Underswap Papyrus - He's so anxious and doesn't know what to do. He's slowly panicking as they're getting farther away from home. Please... He just wants to go home. He won't tell anyone. His begging is more and more desperate until he can't take it anymore and... passes out lol. Good luck dragging a huge unconscious skeleton around now. Honey doesn't do well with stress. The guy is arrested not five minutes later as people reported him dragging a corpse lol.

Underfell Sans - He's like a rabid dog, biting the handcuffs to get free and struggling as you're dragging him along. That's five times he tried to attack you now and you stopped in a pet store to buy a muzzle for him. He is pissed off, growling angrily and you better run really fast when he's going to free himself because you're so dead.

Underfell Papyrus - Uh. You realize how much of a bad idea it was when, at the moment you wanted to drag him away to escape the police, Edge suddenly kicks your knees at full force and pins you on the floor. You're actually pretty lucky there are still police officers around. If it was only the two of you, you feel like he wouldn't have hesitated one second to end you.

Horrortale Sans - He's so confused about what's going on, and he's following you. He forgets every ten minutes or so who you are or what you want, so he assumes it's normal he's handcuffed to you and follows you. By the time he realizes something might be wrong, you're dragging him into his own farm saying that you are going to hide there for the night and he's even more confused because it's his home??? He's tired of your bullshit and drags you towards the house. If he has to sleep there, it will be in his bed. Willow is shocked to see him here, screaming everyone saw him get kidnapped. Oak turns towards the guy. Oh yeah, he forgot about that! Anyway. He's tired. Time to sleep.

Horrortale Papyrus - He plays along at first because he is nice and feels bad for you, but man, he's OLD and TIRED after a few hours of walking. He will ask several times if you two can take a break, if you say no, he sits anyway on the nearest bench and good luck to get him to move again. He won't. He's not some dog you can walk around, he has played long enough already. Let him go or he won't move. Willow is very patient. You won't have any choice but to to accept his offer or you will stay three days on this bench.

Swapfell Sans - He plays with you. He accepts to come, but randomly during the day, he will try to kill you. Survive and he keeps walking. Die and... Well, you're dead so... Two can play the game you know. Next time you'll learn not to underestimate tiny people you idiot.

Swapfell Papyrus - You know how some children pretend to be dead in shops when they're throwing a temper tantrum? That's Rus right now. He lets you drag you wherever you want. Though you have to carry him too because he's not gonna make any effort to make your job easy. He's limp on the floor, smiling at you, not moving. You give up on him after an hour as it's starting to draw attention to you. Worst hostage ever.

Fellswap Gold Sans - You don't have time to handcuff him. As soon as he sees you get close, he slams you into the nearest wall several times and he lets you agonize on the floor, several bones broken. Don't touch him with your filthy human hands, ew.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's having a panic attack, and since he can't hug his S/O or his brother... He's hugging his kidnapper, hanging on his back like a koala. His hands are blocking your eyes and you have no idea where you're going. You walk into a tree and knocks yourself out. Coffee is even more panicked now, thinking he killed you. He runs home, carrying you, and cries to Wine that he accidentally hurt his kidnapper. When you wake up, naked in an unknown room, all you can see is Wine smiling coldly at you. You're so dead.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Whumpee Lashes Out Against Captors

Warnings: broken nose & ribs, blood, living weapon turning against captors

Another short scene from my in-prpgress fantasy trilogy! This takes place when Shadow is still in captivity. Sebastian is the leader in charge of keeping her contained.

"Has the monster been well-behaved today?" The guard sneered condescendingly.

Shadow stood tall in front of the soldier, and instantly made up her mind that she especially disliked this one. And she was in no mood for patience today.

She knew she’d definitely regret it later, but she couldn't take another second of the cocky man's attitude. He needed to be taught a lesson about respecting the power she had, even in captivity.

With a malicious smirk, she suddenly stepped forward and slammed her heel down hard on his right foot, and she heard the satisfying sound of bones crunching, which was music to her ears. The man barely had time to let out a half-scream of agony before she brought her head forward to smash square into the center of his face next.

The man stumbled back, clutching his broken nose and cursing loudly, in obvious, intense pain.

Shadow grimaced and braced herself expectantly for the shock collar around her neck to come to life and punish her for lashing out... but the electric shock never came.

She cautiously glanced to the side where Sebastian stood perfectly still, appraising her with an amused look. He made no move to activate her collar, to Shadow's great surprise.

Her attention snapped back in front of her as the cocky guard whipped out his electric baton and brandished it angrily at her.

"You rabid animal! You'll pay for that!" He yelled angrily, and swung it at the side of her head.

Shadow stepped back defensively, baring her fangs with a displeased hiss as she prepared for a fight.

But then, someone grabbed the injured guard's wrist with a firm, unyielding grip, stopping the baton in its tracks.

"That's enough, Jax. You had it coming this time." Sebastian's voice was firm and authoritative as the man pointedly yanked his hand back with a scoff, replacing his baton in its proper spot on his belt.

"You can't be ser--"

"--I am," Sebastian cut him off sharply. "You shouldn't have tried to pick a fight with her in the first place. And you know better than to lay a hand on her without my permission."

"But she attacked fir--" Jax tried to protest, shocked, but Sebastian raised a hand to silence him, turning to another guard.

"Take him to the medical wing to get patched up," he ordered sternly. Another guard nodded and moved over to Jax, who was glaring daggers at Shadow, one hand still clutching his bloodied, broken nose. The guard helped him limp his way out, leaving a few small spots of blood on the marbled floor.

"...And find someone to clean this mess up while you're at it," Sebastian added, and turned back to Shadow, all traces of amusement long gone.

"I'll let this one slide, beast, but do it again, and you'll find out quickly that I take such offenses to my men very seriously." He tapped the controller on his belt in silent reminder to her of who held the power in the room.

"Noted," Shadow muttered under her breath, and reluctantly let the two remaining guards at her sides shepherd her into her cell, where she sank against the back wall, coming to sit on the cold concrete like usual. She was still puzzled that Sebastian had come to her defense, considering how much he seemed to hate her.

Must have been in a gracious mood, she reasoned, and let herself slowly drift off into a light sleep.

Masterlist #2

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[miragemirrors]

First we must study how colonization works to decivilize the colonizer, to brutalize him in the true sense of the word, to degrade him, to awaken him to buried instincts, to covetousness, violence, race hatred, and moral relativism; and we must show that each time a head is cut off or an eye put out in Vietnam and in France they accept the fact, each time a little girl is raped and in France they accept the fact, each time a Madagascan is tortured and in France they accept the fact, civilization acquires another dead weight, a universal regression takes place, a gangrene sets in, a center of infection begins to spread; and that at the end of all these treaties that have been violated, all these lies that have been propagated, all these punitive expeditions that have been tolerated, all these prisoners who have been tied up and "interrogated, all these patriots who have been tortured, at the end of all the racial pride that has been encouraged, all the boastfulness that has been displayed, a poison has been instilled into the veins of Europe and, slowly but surely, the continent proceeds toward savagery. And then one fine day the bourgeoisie is awakened by a terrific reverse shock: the gestapos are busy, the prisons fill up, the torturers around the racks invent, refine, discuss. People are surprised, they become indignant. They say: "How strange! But never mind-it's Nazism, it will. pass!" And they wait, and they hope; and they hide the truth from themselves, that it is barbarism, but the supreme barbarism, the crowning barbarism that sums up all the daily barbarisms; that it is Nazism, yes, but that before they were its victims, they were its accomplices; that they tolerated that Nazism before it was inflicted on them, that they absolved it, shut their eyes to it, legitimized it, because, until then, it had been applied only to non-European peoples; that they have cultivated that Nazism, that they are responsible for it, and that before engulfing the whole of Western, Christian civilization in its reddened waters, it oozes, seeps, and trickles from every crack. Yes, it would be worthwhile to study clinically, in detail, the steps taken by Hitler and Hitlerism and to reveal to the very distinguished, very humanistic, very Christian bourgeois of the twentieth century that without his being aware of it, he has a Hitler inside him, that Hitler inhabits him, that Hitler is his demon, that if he rails against him, he is being inconsistent and that, at bottom, what he cannot forgive Hitler for is not crime in itself, the crime against man, it is not the humiliation of man as such, it is the crime against the white man, the humiliation of the white man, and the fact that he applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the coolies of India, and the blacks of Africa. And that is the great thing I hold against pseudo-humanism: that for too long it has diminished the rights of man, that its concept of those rights has been - and still is - narrow and fragmentary, incomplete and biased and, all things considered, sordidly racist.

"Discourse on Colonialism", Aimé Césaire (1955), translated by Joan Pinkham (1972)

apply this as you will as the rabid fashisation of american libs even the smol beans on this godforsaken "queerest place on the internet"

[nova--spark]

What’s Anthea’s relationship with the members of Team Prime?

This one will be interesting oh lord.

I will keep it to Team Prime Core, meaning just OP, Ratchet, Bee, Ratchet, Arcee and Bulkhead. If y'all wanna hear about Secondary Team Prime ,lemme know.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Optimus Prime is someone Anthea was...reluctant to meet, when Plasma first made it known to the Autobots about her condition and existence.

She was intimidated to say the least, to meet who Plasma had described as essentially, a walking and living demigod among his kind.

It would come as a shock to her that he was...gentle, with her. Acting remorseful, for what his people's war had robbed her of and turned her into, and offered his sincerest apologies and assured that her protection would be a priority.

Knowing that he wasn't some high and mighty leader...eased her to him, and she came to see Optimus as a familial figure of sorts. A wise mentor, who would protect her.

If he has a moment to spare, and isn't a bother, Thea will ask him stories from his days as Orion, curious about the stars beyond just Earth.

He once stated her survival as having been thanks to the Will of Primus. She's not entirely sure but...maybe he's right.

Ratchet was the second Autobot she was close with, if only because he took over her medical care, to the best of his abilities, pertaining to her Energon-Blood combo, and her Cybertronian prosthetics.

Having bad memories of doctors from her early recovery days, Ratchet's grumpy nature took time to get used to but...she appreciated it in time. At least once a month, she checks in with him to recalibrate her legs, update on how the Energon flows in her body, and more often than not, mid check up, the two are snarking back at one another.

An odd friendship but one they're both quite comfortable with.

Admittedly though, Ratchet is sometimes reminded of what happened to Raf when he was inflicted with Dark Energon and...he feels a sense of duty, to ensure Anthea's well-being in this bizarre state of existence she now has.

Bumblebee is ,in official capacity, meant to bring Anthea to base and guard her, should Plasma fall in battle, be hurt, or otherwise incapable.

Unofficially, Anthea considers the rambunctious scout a friend, and one she can connect to. Like a brother who you rope into your shenanigans.

Both lost a part of themselves in the war, and are in a manner, still readjusting to the world in a sense, Anthea's change still fresh and healing, Bee's older but still present.

If Plasmaclaw is occupied on a mission on Team Prime's behalf, she often asks Bee if they can maybe got out on a ride for a bit, if only to take her mind off things. It took her a little while to decipher his binary speech, but she can understand him a decent amount, though nowhere near perfect as Raf does.

Arcee and Anthea have a mutual respect of one another, as Arcee has loved and lost, fought and been hardened by it.

Anthea lost part of herself, and yet still returned to where her life was torn apart, and reforged herself into something entirely new.

Thea has also joked that out of the two biker Autobots, Arcee definitely has Plasma beat. A fact which Plasma took quite a bit of offense to.

Both girls have spoken with each other often in moments where both needed an ear to vent to.

Bulkhead was quite surprised in learning about what Anthea had been through, I mean sure, he'd met Miko who was wilder than a rabid scraplet, but Thea was a different story, having been one to hone that wild streak into a way to rebuild her life.

Hearing that Bulk had been a laborer, Anthea respects him,as her own mother labored at a factory when Thea was just a baby to make her life worth it. And she was impressed in how the once Wrecker could carry out battle ,and use his skills to both build and break.

It was like a brother and sister, who just...would be there when the other needed them. And that was ok between them.