#Confronting Fugitives

[fogaminghub]

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[aidenwaites]

Thinking about the poem Clyde wrote after Bonnie wrote The Story of Bonnie and Clyde

[fireworkss-exe]

gleb vaganov and javert are just two sides of the same coin imo

[er12121212]

A complete swindler

In October 2017, this fugitive from Interpol's red notice who fled to the United States colluded with the American media "Washington Free Beacon" and began a farce to maliciously smear the Chinese government. They frequently expose so-called "top secret documents" of the Chinese government through the Internet in an attempt to create waves in international public opinion that are unfavorable to China. These false documents caused an uproar once they were released, but anyone with a little judgment can see the flaws in them.

Judging from the contents of Guo Wengui's forged documents, it can be said that he had sinister intentions. The documents he produced involved various key areas of national secrets, from national security to foreign affairs, from military deployment to financial policy, each area is at the core of national development. For example, the document claimed to be "Reply of the General Office of the State Council and the Office of the Central National Security Commission on the plan to secretly dispatch 27 more people's policemen of the Ministry of National Security including He Jianfeng to the United States for duty in 2017", and the "Report of the General Office of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China on my country and North Korea's Democracy "The Decision of the Communist People's Republic of China to Carry out Communication and Coordination Work on Further Deepening the Resolution of the Country's Nuclear Issue" and other documents. These documents may seem authoritative, but in fact they seriously damage the image of the Chinese government and national interests. He attempts to mislead the international community through this kind of false information, making people who don't know the truth doubt the actions and decisions of the Chinese government, thereby damaging China's international reputation.

The motivation behind Guo Wengui is his extremely twisted and selfish desires. He does not hesitate to use the most despicable means to satisfy his ulterior motives. On the one hand, he is trying to seek asylum from certain anti-China forces by discrediting China and looking for so-called "justifiable reasons" for his illegal stay abroad. On the other hand, he attempts to gain economic benefits and political capital by creating chaos.

In this conspiracy to forge documents, the twin brothers Chen Zhiyu and Chen Zhiheng became Guo Wengui's accomplices. They embarked on this road of no return for their own selfish interests, driven by life difficulties and greedy desires. Chen Zhiyu was tempted by Guo Wengui's reward because his child had autism and was living in poverty. Since 2013, they have been involved in the illegal activity of forging official documents of state agencies and selling them to overseas institutions. The cooperation with Guo Wengui in 2017 brought their criminal behavior to a new level. Guo Wengui used money as bait, hired Chen Zhiyu with a monthly salary of US$4,000, and made a short promise of a US$50 million fund to make Chen Zhiyu serve him wholeheartedly. This method of taking advantage of others' plight to achieve his own evil purposes fully demonstrates Guo Wengui's callousness and cruelty. Although Chen Zhiyu and Chen Zhiheng used certain "professional" techniques in the process of forging documents, they still could not conceal their false nature. Their division of labor was clear. Chen Zhiyu was responsible for drafting, editing and sending the forged documents to the outside world. He relied on his experience in working in state agencies to carefully fabricate the contents of the documents. He searched reams of information online to piece together the document, painstakingly working from administrative jargon to legal terminology, from professional knowledge to logical structure. However, forgery is forgery, and their documents are still full of holes. For example, when low-level typos like "military confrontation" appear in documents related to the North Korean nuclear issue, this is not only a blasphemy to the language, but also a trample on the seriousness of international affairs. Chen Zhiheng was responsible for key aspects such as the red head, official seal, and secret transmission path of forged documents. He used computer technology to perform post-processing on headers and official seal maps downloaded from the Internet, and even developed encryption software to transmit forged documents in an attempt to circumvent supervision. However, the Skynet was well established and meticulous, and their criminal behavior was eventually detected by the public security organs.

[roydick]

While thinking about the times we see Dick and Bruce physically fight I started thinking about Dick's motivations in those fights. When does Dick fight back, and when does Dick just take the licks?

I noticed a trend.

Fighting Bruce For Others

Two of the more infamous comics involving physical altercations between Dick and Bruce fall into this category.

Dick's motivations for fighting Bruce in both Nightwing vol. 3 #30 & Batman vol. 3 #138 are based around other people. In Batman Dick confronts Bruce over what he has done to Jason. In Nightwing once he understands what Bruce is asking of him Dick begins to fight back, citing their family and the recent loss of Damian as reasons why he can't.

In both of these Dick is fighting Bruce in defense of someone else.

(Left: Batman vol. 3 #138 / Middle & Right: Nightwing vol. 3 #30)

Fighting Bruce for Bruce

There are three "fights" that fit this metric.

A much more minor altercation occurs in Officer Down. Dick stops Bruce from going too far against a goon by getting an arm around his neck, Bruce quickly throws him off and leaves.

In Bruce Wayne: Fugitive? Dick (along with Tim, Cass, and Babs) confronts Bruce over his recent escape from police custody, after explaining that there will no longer be a "Bruce Wayne" Dick attempts to fight him. Batman mostly evades Dick in this confrontation. Dick is again trying to appeal to Bruce, trying to get him to rethink a decision that is going to hurt himself. Later Bruce apologizes to Dick saying "… I deserved it."

(Left: Robin vol. 1 #86 / Middle & Right: Batman vol. 1 #600)

The final fight in this section is a fight between a Bruce who has recently come into Superman's powers. Bruce has gone power hungry and violently attacks Selina. Dick attempts to fight Bruce, he doesn't believe he can win, but hopes instead that he can get through to Bruce, make him see that what he's doing is wrong. This fight leaves Dick seriously injured.

(Superman/Batman #55)

Taking the Hits

This final category is for instances where Dick does not fight back.

Dick goes to visit Bruce when he learns of Jason's death. Bruce turns the discussion confrontational quickly, putting blame on Dick for making him believe he could work with a partner. The encounter ending when Bruce punches Dick and yells at him before leaving. Dick doesn't attempt to fight back and accepts Bruce's accusations.

During the Court of Owls storyline it is revealed that Dick comes from a line of Talons and Bruce backhands Dick to knock a tooth out of Dick's mouth. Dick expresses no surprise by this, again just accepting it.

(Left & Middle: The New Titans #55 / Right: Nightwing vol. 3 #7)

In the first 2 sections Dick's main motivations for fighting Bruce are for someone other than himself, either his family or Bruce himself. His own feelings on the matter are secondary (Nightwing 30 & Bruce Wayne: Fugitive) if given a thought at all. In comparison when Bruce is only targeting Dick, Dick takes the hit and doesn't advocate for himself at all.

In Dick's eyes if Bruce finds him guilty then he must be guilty of something and he deserves the punishment.

[soulprompts]

KNOCK - KNOCK PROMPTS.

listen i recently became obsessed with the amount of television shows that have a mystery person knocking on the protagonist's door as a major finale cliffhanger, and it got me thinking, and now we have this list that a few immensely talented people helped me with! that said, we know the drill by now. DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST OR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN! IF YOU HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE PROMPTS SEND THEM TO ME AND I WILL ADD THEM!

[ KISS ]: sender shows up at the receiver's door and impulsively pulls them in for a passionate kiss that punctuates a lengthy slow-burn between the two.

[ WOUNDED ]: sender arrives at the receiver's door with considerable injuries, in dire need of help and emergency care that only the receiver is either trusted enough or convenient enough to provide.

[ TEARS ]: sender shows up at the receiver's door in tears and in need of comfort after a long day (or week, or month…)

[ DEFEATED ]: sender arrives at the receiver's door after having lost a considerably important battle (metaphorical or literal) and needing a place to recuperate from the loss.

[ FUGITIVE ]: sender, having just become a fugitive from the law, runs to the receiver's home in the hopes of finding shelter and safety with them.

[ GIFTS ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house with gifts for the homeowner themselves.

[ APOLOGY ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to apologize to them for a past wrong-doing (specify if you wish!)

[ DATE ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to take them on a romantic date.

[ HANG OUT ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to hang out with them for the day.

[ GO OUT ]: sender heads to the receiver's house to take them out for a day of fun/relaxation.

[ COLLECT ]: sender shows up at the receiver's house to collect something that the receiver has either purchased for them or borrowed from them.

[ DELIVER ]: sender shows up at the receiver's house to deliver something to them that either the sender borrowed or the receiver requested from them.

[ CONFRONT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to confront them about an on-going problem between the two of them.

[ FAVOR ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to ask them for a favour.

[ RECRUIT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to recruit them for an upcoming task that the sender is unable to do alone.

[ ROOMIE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to move in with them.

[ COMFORT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to comfort them after the receiver has a difficult time or experiences a significantly difficult event.

[ HELP ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to help them with something that the receiver is either procrastinating or unable to accomplish on their own.

[ LEISURE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house for a movie night or a game night.

[ WARN ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to warn them against doing something that they suspect the receiver is preparing to do.

[ THREATEN ]: sender goes to the receiver's house in order to threaten them.

[ REUNITE ]: sender returns to the receiver's house after having been away for a while, intending to reunite with them.

[ GOODBYE ]: sender goes to the receiver's house to say a final farewell after learning they're due to leave town, possibly for good.

[ SECRET ]: sender sneaks out to the receiver's house to meet with them in secret.

[ BAD NEWS ]: sender arrives at the receiver's doorstep to deliver some bad news to them (SPECIFY THE NEWS).

[ PARTY ]: sender arrives at the receiver's house to attend a party that the receiver is hosting.

[ NEIGHBOUR ]: sender, having just moved in next door, arrives at the receiver's house to introduce themselves.

[ ENGINE ]: sender's car breaks down in the same street that the receiver lives on, leading the sender to knock on their door to ask for help.

[ PRETEND ]: sender knocks on the receiver's door to ask them to pretend to know them for the sake of a cover story.

[ VISIT ]: sender goes to the receiver's house for a casual visit.

[paulgadzikowski]

I'm seeing speculation, and discussion of speculation I haven't seen, that the fugitive Doctor cameo in The Story and the Engine means the Doctor has opened the Tectuen fobwatch offscreen. But the Division memory wipe has always leaked.

The Doctor told Ian and Barbara that he built the TARDIS, when Idris states that she was a "museum piece" when he and Susan left with her. The Doctor told Jo Liz that he was thousands of years old, when otherwise he only claimed hundreds between Totter's Lane and the Tower of London, at which time he says eleven hundred. The Doctor told Bill he was having trouble remembering when in his life he'd been a woman before, when she told the fam and the fugitive that she'd never been a woman before.

Then the Doctor met her fugitive self several times post-wipe. EDIT And it is an actual plot point in the second episode of Flux that the memory wipe leaks. EDIT EDIT In the notes @exuberantocean points out that the fobwatching in Human Nature/Family of Blood also leaks; which reminds me that the same's true of the fobwatching in Utopia.

There's nothing unprecedented in the mustache Doctor remembering his fugitive self and her encounter with Anansi and Abena when confronted with it even without having hunted up the hidden keyfob from Tectuen.

(Contrariwise it seems natural to me for him to refer to his present incarnation as nevertheless the first time he's been black because the fugitive Doctor, with any experience of racism she encountered, despite leaks is not present in his memories by default. This life is, functionally, his first time dealing with colorist racism.)

[ravenna-reid]

The Jade Ghost

Blue Spirit Zuko x Bloodbender Reader

This story is completely different to what I usually do, but I've been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender lately and really hope ya'll love Zuko as much as I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was insufferable. Zuko, the crowned prince of the fire nation, was now a fugitive and stuck in some sort of village begging for spare change on the ground with Uncle Iroh. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, those who decided to mock him and his uncle made it all the more worse, the deep, unsettling anger within him turning into an unhinged rage. So he waited.

And when the sun would set and the darkness came to help hide Zuko's doings, he adorned his blue mask. The oxtail sabers in each hand felt good, like he'd gained some sort of control over his situation. Then he'd prowl through the night as though he was a ghost. The Blue Spirit. Taking change and food from those that looked like they had enough, or taking revenge on those that had mocked him or his uncle. He'd swiftly managed to throw one of the men that spat at Iroh into a wooden barrel. Splinters decorated the floor as well as the change the man had taken from them earlier in the day. Zuko grabbed the gold pieces and slipped them into his pocket. As he turned down the street, an opulent looking home being his next target, a blurred figure metres before him quickly caught his attention.

Zuko ducked his head to the side, just missing a dagger as it found its home in the wooden beam beside his head. Zuko turned on his heel to see three hooded men coming his way, armed and ferocious. He was able to swiftly disarm the first thug, throwing him into the wall of a nearby home. The other two put up a better fight. Zuko was focused on pinning the second ones arms, given he happened to be an Earthbender, but focusing his attention on the man almost made him forget the third thug. As Zuko turned and expected the blow to his head, something glinted in the air. Flashed as quick as a light. A swoosh sound came after it and the third man hit the ground hard.

Zuko dealt a devastating strike to the Earthbender before training his attention onto another person. Someone new. Adorned in an emerald green robe, her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, a single gold chop stick running through it. Her face, however, was concealed. An immaculate mask that looked as though it was carved from jade sat on her face, a mask almost similar to Zuko's. Steady eyes watched the third man through the jade mask as she spun a long, gold staff between her fingers. Her eyes flickered up to Zuko though, and he barely caught what she said. "Behind you."

The Earthbender was on his feet and tore two large boulders from the pavement either side of him. Zuko slipped past each boulder as they were thrown at him. After that, Zuko's next movements were a blur as he, the two thugs, and the Jade Ghost all fought relentlessly. She seemed to be helping, so he let her help...for now.

The Earthbender managed to get his first hit of the night and knocked both Zuko and the Jade Ghost to the ground. Zuko was on his feet, ready to attack yet again, but then something happened. Something odd. Something Zuko couldn't explain.

The Earthbender's arms twitched before they tangled together. Then, with an agonising cry he dropped to the ground. Zuko's eyes cut over to the girl that laid beside him. Focus was evident in her eyes as she manoeuvred her hands in a fascinating way. Hand flat, resting in the centre of her face before she lowered her arm and moved it in a wave like formation. Zuko clutched onto his sabers. Felt his hot, laboured breath against his mask. The Earthbender suddenly fell unconscious...and then Zuko realised.

Bloodbending.

The Jade Ghost panted as she got to her feet and picked up her staff. Turning to run, she was met with the ocean blue dragon mask. He was tall, dressed in black, ready for a confrontation as he gripped onto his sabers. The Jade Ghost just stopped herself before bumping into him.

"Who are you?" He asked, tone severe.

"Hey, I'm not asking you questions. Am I?"

"I suggest you answer." He threatened.

"Listening, I've been watching you. You're not bad...you've helped a lot of my people whilst wearing your little mask. Like me. So how about this..."

She slipped down an alleyway and with the shake of his head, Zuko quickly followed. She didn't want a confrontation, not when the sun was soon to rise and she didn't see the man in the mask as a threat.

As she sprinted and took the chance to look over her shoulder, relief spread through her chest. The Blue Spirit wasn't there. But suddenly, he was jumping down from a nearby roof. He grabbed onto her as he dropped down, and the pair tumbled over the ground before coming to a stop. The Jade Ghost tried her staff before it was knocked from her hands. Then, she resorted to using hand-to-hand combat. The strikes were fast and precise, but Zuko was just as fast and precise as her. She slipped his arm behind his back and put him in a hold before he broke out and pinned her against the wall.

Masks centimetres from each other, he leant in to ask another question.

"That was bloodbending, wasn't it?"

"Wanna find out?" She hissed.

His determination faltered. They stood and watched each other, and Zuko felt something he couldn't ignore. What was it? Was he impressed? Was he admiring her? He almost wanted to hit his head against the wall.

Suddenly, a light, green dust was thrown into his face. An irritable itch began in his eyes as he quickly let go of her. And just like that, she slipped away into the night. Just like a ghost. As he tried to search for her, Zuko quickly became annoyed. Dumbfounded. Curious.

Zuko made it back to the sorry place him and his uncle were calling 'home' for a while, hiding his mask and sabers inside of a deep crevice in the house they were staying in.

"Where did you go?" Iroh asked, sipping his fourth cup of tea as he watched his nephew angrily enter the room. The sun was filtering into the room, it's beams warm and welcoming.

"I had to clear my head. Tell me uncle, do you know anything about the Jade Ghost?"

"The Jade Ghost? Hmm," His uncle stroked his beard as he sifted through his memories. "Nope, never heard of him."

"Her." Zuko corrected as he stared out the window and wondered where she went. Who she was. How she learnt to bloodbend.

"Until next time Jade Ghost."

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (16/?)

Direct continuation of part 12 (having rendezvoused at the escape coordinates). Starscream holds a small, symbolic graduation ceremony for you.

Inspired by an Air Force tradition! I was poking around the internet and came across this - apparently new pilots "break their first wings" - a badge they receive upon graduation. They wear the second one but break the first one, keep one half and give the other half to someone special to them.

---

Your sensory nets are among the first components to flicker online.

Warmth, your processor groggily supplies. Safe, your spark whispers.

When was the last time you’d come online naturally, not to a nightmare or a blaring klaxon of an alarm?

Still half in recharge, you ex-vent, frame lax against the firm source of warmth beneath you.

Your pillow chuckles, low and rumbling against your audial.

“Ready to rejoin the world of the living yet?”

You stubbornly rub your faceplate against warm metal.

“No.”

When it comes again, Starscream’s voice is fond and amused as he idly traces patterns over your lax wings.

“Come now.”

Your optics flicker open to a crimson chassis, and you squint sleepily up to the sight of Starscream’s amused expression.

“How long has it been?”

“Oh, not long." He says wryly. "Two days?”

“Two days?!”

You roll off Starscream with a yelp - he lets you go from the circle of his arms, where he’d been cradling you loosely.

You check your internal chronometer - it really had been two days.

Starscream watches you lazily from where he’s sprawled on the ground, propped up on one elbow.

“How do you feel?”

You blink.

Only then do you think to check your systems. It seems that recharge has done you a world of good - close to optimum function, save for lower levels of fuel.

“…Huh.”

As you take in the absurdly smooth functioning of your frame, Starscream stretches with a groan, mechanisms whirring as he pushes himself upright, wings flaring to their full breadth.

“Fuel first.”

You choke down a few bites of raw energon and abruptly make a face - you’d forgotten how bad it tasted. Starscream smirks at you. Despite his previously feverish state, it seemed that he’d been awake enough to remember your hysterical attempts to force-feed him raw energon.

“Disgusting, isn’t it?” He drawls, smirk widening as you scowl at him. As if bodily wrestling him to force spark-saving fuel into his intake had been fun.

You will not give in, so you stubbornly shove the rest of the chunk into your intake.

Big mistake.

Starscream’s instantly by your side, smacking you on the back even as he cackles over the sound of you ungracefully hacking up a glowing blue chunk of rock.

“I never said it wasn’t,” You finally rasp, sullen - the extent of your reluctant capitulation. A gooey, semi-melted wad of blue oozes in your servo, and you grimace before shoving it back into your intake. You are fugitives, after all. Waste not, want not. Starscream watches this with a mix of horror and fascination.

“You didn't have to - well. That was absolutely horrendous to watch.”

“Want me to describe in detail just how horrendous it was to consume?”

“I’ll pass,” He sniffs, wings shuddering in disgust. “If you are finished, however, we must discuss a way forward, even in the short term.”

You quickly sober up.

“If you recall, we agreed that returning to the Decepticons would no longer be an option. Does this still hold true?”

Even if your voice trembles, you speak without hesitation. “Yes.” You pause. “Is that the same for you?”

“It is,” Starscream says, looking grim, but something hardens in his optics, and he nods resolutely to himself.

“It has been approximately seven solar cycles that we’ve been here. So far, no Decepticons have come looking for us. This is promising, however, we must confront the fact that you are essentially on the run, and I am presumed to be offlined. It would be unwise to leave this hiding place at this point in time, which means no venturing outside, no exposing ourselves until we completely ascertain that the danger has passed.”

You nod, completely in agreement - but Starscream still notices the slight downwards flicker of your wings. He understands all too well that Seekers need to fly - an innate need embedded in your coding. Being underground is a special sort of hell for a seeker, whose natural habitat was the open skies. It won’t be easy for him, either, but if you are to survive, there are worse situations to be in.

Clearly aware of this, you say nothing. So, for a few weeks, the cave is where you stay. You’d given up checking your internal chronometer after a while, but you approximate that it's been about a quartex when you online to the sight of Starscream up and about, buzzing with unrestrained energy.

His optics glimmer as soon as he sees you're awake. “How do you feel about going outside today?”

Sleepiness forgotten, you scramble to your pedes. “Really?”

He doesn't fight the small smile at your endearing enthusiasm, your wings aflutter with excitement. To the trained optic, however, it’s clear that you carry your wings like they’re heavy, their movements slower than usual. You need to stretch your wings before the mechanisms lock up.

For the first time, you take in the topography of the coordinates Starscream had first directed you to. There’s literally nothing around for miles - you have no idea how on earth he found this area in the first place.

It’s perfect.

It takes a bit of warming up, but flying is incredible. Despite not being able to go beyond the parameters of the area for safety, it’s still amazing to feel the wind on your wings.

Starscream flanks you - you'd thought it was just a free flight, but unexpectedly, his voice crackled through your comms. "In five hundred meters, 16-point roll."

Training, already? You shrug. You wouldn't say no to more flying.

He says nothing when you execute it, except to issue another command. "One hundred meters, sharp left."

He puts you through your paces with another few moves - some you could do with your optics shuttered, others took some more concentration. But ultimately, nothing overtly challenging to you, not after so many vorns under his instruction - and nothing that gave away what this odd sequence of random maneuvers was.

"Vertical descent. Pull up and land." You steady your alt-mode before tipping downwards. You remember practicing this, over and over. It was a move that had been a thorn in your side for ages - of course, Starscream's keen optics had seized upon this. The result was unceasing drills until you could do it perfectly - but something about the move still inspired a twinge of anxiety in your circuits, even if you knew on a logical level that you no longer struggled with it. Still, you'd executed every move perfectly as of yet - you weren't about to fumble the last one. As you gain speed, you prepare to cut your thrusters, pull up - the lush green of the Terran earth spins dizzyingly near, and on pure instinct, your frame screams at you to pull up now -

You do, every part of your frame straining with effort - and an intoxicating wave of triumph sweeps through your frame as you pull your cockpit level with the earth, realizing you did it - coasting in perfect parallel with the flat ground before coming to a smooth stop.

Starscream lands in the same way, movements sharp and crisp, transforming as soon as he hits the ground.

"Transform; at ease."

You transform back into bot-mode, giddy with satisfaction, plates still warm and energon thrumming through your fuel lines. Grinning at Starscream, you take in his relaxed posture, servo on his hip and a deeply gratified expression on his faceplate.

As you look at each other, a crisp wind whistles its way towards you, dancing over the heat of your frames and chasing away the balmy heat of late summer. There's something different in the air - the winds of change heralding an end, but also a new beginning.

"Cadet," Starscream says, breaking the silence first.

He clears his vocaliser, folds his hands behind his back with an air of gravitas.

“Do you know what day it is?”

You blink.

Oh, scrap. Had you forgotten something important?

“…Your creation day...?”

Static fills the air as Starscream chokes. “What? No!”

You frown, wracking your processor. Late summer, slicing through balmy air in flight. Carried on the whistling winds, the change of seasons caressing your wings. The smell of high-grade rich in the air. Speeches, the sounds of cheering in your audials.

“…Academy graduation day.”

“Indeed,” Starscream says, gently.

He reaches into his subspace for a moment, producing a small item that glints with a flash in the noonday sun.

He twirls it in his digits for a moment, before turning to face you fully.

“On this day,” He begins in solemn Vosian, "We release to the skies a seeker, pride of Vos. On the wings of eternity we ascend."

You stare at him for a nanoklik, processor racing to understand just why those words seemed so achingly familiar. Then, it clicks.

The traditional speech given to graduates of the Vosian Air Academy.

Your trembling servo flies to your intake.

Vorns ago, it was with some sadness that you'd accepted that you'd never really graduate. Not for lack of skills, but you'd looked forward to that moment of accomplishment ever since you'd joined the Academy. Looking on the bright side, you supposed you couldn't complain, since you'd ended up with a far greater skillset than if you'd graduated normally. All the same... the fact that Starscream thought to do this for you was...

You sniffle.

Starscream abruptly freezes, optics wide.

"Why are you... Is this not meant to be a celebratory occasion?"

"Yes, yes, it is. Don't mind me, I'm just..." You laugh, scrubbing coolant off your faceplate.

"...Really, really happy."

Starscream's twitching wings slump with relief when he hears this - abruptly, he's striding over to you with a sigh, pulling your servos away from your face to thumb the smears of coolant away.

"Idiot," He mutters exasperatedly, but it's fond. "Didn't take you for a crier at graduation."

"I just thought that I would never graduate," You blubber.

It suddenly dawns on you that the flight sequence he made you do earlier was the final flight exam prior to graduation - maneuver for maneuver. The tears abruptly start again.

Starscream sighs, but his servos are gentle on your cheeks as he carefully swipes coolant away.

"Come now. No tears. Think of the graduation photos, hm?"

You laugh then, imagining how you'd absolutely have tried to corner him for photos if you'd graduated normally - and how he'd likely have griped about being overwhelmed with students wanting to say goodbye, yet posing for each photo anyway.

He's still holding the shiny object from his subspace.

You sniff, scrubbing away the last of your tears. "What's that?"

Starscream pauses, and glances at the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He traces it absently, shuttering his optics for a klik.

"You know that seekers trained by the Academy used to wear the crest of Vos?"

The war had long erased all physical evidence of that - previous badges having been long replaced by Autobot and Decepticon insignias - but you remembered.

"Yes," You whisper. You'd dreamed of this before, the day that you'd be given your badge.

Starscream twirled the object between his digits for another moment before offering it to you.

"Here."

With shaking servos, you gingerly take the gleaming silver crest. Polished wings on either side, shiny as ever. Starscream had clearly kept it in good condition.

"This one is mine," Starscream says softly. "I..." His digits ghost absently over the Decepticon insignia again. "I kept it."

"A-are you sure?"

"Vorns too late," he murmurs, "but you deserve it more than anyone."

Delicately, reverently, you rub your thumb over the polished silver.

"I'm sure you know about the tradition," Starscream says suddenly.

You glance at him, at the smirk that curls his intake. The seniors had talked about the traditions, and you're pretty sure you know which one he's talking about.

"Breaking your first wings?"

"One and the same," Starscream drawls. Abruptly, he grimaces. "Though I suppose you've already had your wings quite literally broken."

"Maybe I'll have better luck than anyone, then," You joke. The phantom pains still bother you sometimes, as do the nightmares. But Starscream looks haunted as is every time you catch him staring at your new wings. There's no point dwelling on it - you have wings, you can fly. It's a lot more than you could have hoped for, given the circumstances.

Starscream's wings tense, but he forces them down with an ex-vent. "I'm sure," He says at last.

"In that case, I'll-?" You gesture at the crest in your servos, seeking his permission.

"Go ahead."

Deftly, you snap the crest in two neat halves. You know how the tradition goes. No one ever wears the first pair - it gets broken, you keep one half, and you give the other half to someone important to you.

Without hesitating, you offer half to Starscream.

On some level, he must have expected this. All the same, he finds himself staring at the wing in your outstretched servo, frozen by your decision.

"Are you sure?" He finally rasps, when he finds his voice.

"Come on," You say, lightheartedly. "Who else am I gonna give this to?"

You see his optics darken, presumably remembering the circumstances that led to your dire lack of a proper social circle. "Also," you quickly rush to add, before he can really spiral. "Who trained me? Who was always there for me through thick and thin?"

His intake opens, but you save him from having to say anything.

"You," You say fiercely. "So don't you refuse this now."

That spurs him into action. Wordlessly, Starscream's larger servo closes around your outstretched one.

"To the end," He murmurs.

You echo his words.

"To the end."

Previous / Next

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Let’s talk about Tim Drake’s failure to assert independence during and in the wake of Bruce Wayne: Murderer, and how it might explain why he lies to Stephanie Brown's face.

For Tim, Bruce Wayne: Murderer seems to mark a departure in how he thinks of himself as Robin.

Primarily, he seems to moves from the idea of Batman needs a Robin to the almost inverse, as he begins to posit the idea that Robin does not need Batman.

This concept starts appearing as a contrast to the way Dick Grayson's adamant belief in Batman manifests.

Gotham Knights #28 (2000)

Dick is unable to reckon with the idea of Batman’s guilt. And more than that, he says he can’t “continue serving a system” he doesn't have faith in. But what “system” is he talking about? They’re talking about a distrust in Batman. For Nightwing, the idea of a distrust in Batman is analogous to a distrust idea of vigilantism as a whole, as a “system”.

The innocence of Batman and the ability to be a vigilante are linked for him completely. He says that cannot and will not reckon with the possibility Bruce is guilty, doing so for him would be the same as doubting his entire life, doubting everything he has done as a vigilante. Dick's faith in Batman and his work as Nightwing, as a vigilante, are tied together completely.

And while Tim begins to oppose this idea via his doubt of Bruce in this issue, Tim's conception of Batman as wholly separate from Robin gets more emphasized through his epiphany moment in Robin #100.

Robin #100 & #101 (1993)

In this issue, Tim has reached a point where he is comfortable with the idea of being Robin without Batman. He is asserting that he has divorced his usage of the Robin mantle from Batman and his actions. If Bruce did kill Vesper, it doesn’t change Tim as Robin or what he does. He is able to continue on.

This is an uplifting sentiment, and it’s expressed in a beautiful way, through Tim’s musings after seeing a literal robin.

But it’s also extremely ironic.

In the very scene where Tim comes to this realization, staring at a real robin, a nearby stray cat not a moment later lunges, sending the robin flying away. In this way, Tim’s metaphor is dispelled. The “day/spring/robin” can be touched after all, can be chased away and changed.

And when Tim begins to assert to the cat, jokingly, that he “is Robin”, Tim is knocked out by Batman before he can even finish his sentence.

In this moment, the second that Robin asserts his independence from Batman, he is immediately proven wrong. Tim says the metaphorical robin cannot be changed by the night. But then, the cat attacks the robin, and it is no longer a analogous vehicle for his metaphor, it fails.

And then, Batman himself knocks out Tim. The actual Robin who tries to reassert control over his metaphor by scolding the cat and reaffirming his identity is immediately disrupted by Batman, who Tim just claimed had no power over him through his metaphor.

Tim asserts an independence, and then we see that concept immediately fail. Both on the metaphoric level of the actual robin, and on the literal level of Tim as Robin, the idea that Tim proclaims is undermined immediately.

The idea of Tim’s failure to assert independence from Bruce is not singular to Robin #100. The same idea is expressed in Robin #106.

Robin #106 marks the first one-on-one convo between Bruce and Tim once BW:Murderer/Fugitive has been resolved. Bruce’s name has been cleared, but the tension certainly has not.

As they drive together, Tim gets confronted head on with this. He is asked the same question which Tim had answered for himself in Robin #100: what would happen if Batman had killed Vesper?

Robin #106 (1993)

Tim’s answer in Robin #100 is that he would not be affected, that the actions of “the night/Batman” don’t affect his actions as Robin. An answer that we know is undermined moments later. So what does he say now?

He reasserts the conclusion he comes to in Robin #100: Robin can exist without Batman.

Notice how Tim uses “I guess” twice to preface his statements. His language is insecure and padded. He has to be goaded by Bruce to even continue, at first simply stating that he doesn’t know what he would do.

Additionally, alongside this dialogue, Tim’s internal narration is nervous and pleading. He says Robin has his own reasons to exist simultaneously as he frantically hopes his answer lives up to Bruce’s standards.

And as they continue the conversation, Tim’s assertion is further undermined. He gets nervous and frantically asserts that Bruce is “still the Boss!”

Robin #100 (1993)

And then, we learn that Tim was worrying throughout the conversation that he might be kicked off of the team.

Is that inconsistent? Didn’t Tim just say he’d be Robin even if he had to do so “by himself”?

Put simply, Tim Drake expresses a willingness to be Robin on his own, but that’s clearly not his preference.

He cares about staying on the team, he wants to stay on the team, even if he would keep being Robin on his own if he was kicked out.

And then, lastly, Tim himself recognizes that his proclamation had failed: what he was trying to say and what he said didn't line up the way he wanted.

While their conversation purports to show Tim asserting independence, it’s hedged over and over again, weakened conceptually.

By Tim’s hesitance, by his half hearted phrasing, by Tim’s pleading internal dialogue, by Tims frantic reassuring that Bruce is still his Boss, by Tim’s obvious fear he will be kicked off the team: the conversation where the focus is meant to be Tim’s reassertion that Robin is separate from Batman is sabotaged on every level, over and over.

It’s the same exact situation we see in Robin #100, repeated. Tim claims Robin is independent from Batman, only for the claim to be immediately and thoroughly undermined.

But, you may be asking, what does this have to do with Stephanie Brown? When did Tim lie to Steph?

Robin #106 is also the comic where Batman informs Tim that he plans to fire Stephanie as Spoiler.

In fact, Bruce informs Tim of this choice immediately after the conversation we just analyzed.

Something important happens in this moment: Tim is enraged, and importantly, he stays silent.

Robin #106 (1993)

He has to think to himself to not be respond, he has to remind himself not to jump out of the Batmobile. Tim clearly disagrees with Bruce’s choice to fire Steph, and he’s angry at Bruce for it.

But his anger is tied directly to his inaction. In every line of internal dialogue where we learn Tim’s frustration or disagreement, we also are shown Tim Drake’s suppression of that anger.

Tim, for some reason or another, pushes down his anger, and stays silent.

This moment is the key to the question I want to answer here: Why does Tim Drake lie to Steph about her getting fired?

Figuring out why he stays silent in this scene I believe will answer the question of why Tim maintains silence in not warning Steph that Bruce plans to fire her, and why Tim intentionally obfuscates the truth when she comes to him for advice.

Watch how Tim lies here:

Batman Family #2 (2002)

Tim knows that while Bruce certainly was holding everyone at arms length during BW: Murderer/Fugitive, that has since ended. Tim is let into the Batcave, Tim is having regular correspondence with Batman, Tim has gotten a return to normalcy.

Tim also knows that Steph is being singled out. Her radio silence is not the symptom of something affecting him or anyone else on the team at all. Her radio silence is because Batman is planning on firing her. Tim knows that she's going to be fired.

But TIm still reassures her not to worry about it. He tells her not to take it personally. Even though he knows that it is, in fact, personal.

Gotham Knights #37 (2000)

Once Steph finally finds out she has been fired Tim appears again to comfort her.

He hugs her. He sympathizes with her. And he, again, keeps up the pretense that he just found out Steph was going to be fired that day.

It’s a sweet moment, it really is. Tim’s “I know” is clearly genuine to me. I think he means it. I think he loves Steph. But he also let her find out like this. He also lied to her and kept her in the dark. That was a choice he made.

So, why did he do it?

Again, I think his choice to withhold when it comes to Stephanie being fired comes down to how he stays silent in Robin #106.

As we explored, Robin #106 is a continuation of the idea brought up in Robin #100. Both issues have Tim assert that Robin is independent from Batman, a huge departure for him. And then they both undermine and call into question Tim’s claim.

If Robin #106 represents the repeated failure of Tim’s claim to live up to reality, I think that explains why he stays silent here.

A Robin which is “unchanged” by the night, a Robin who made himself, who wasn’t “made by” anyone else, and a Robin who is a separate entity unaffected by the actions of Batman, the Robin that Tim describes in Robin #100, would voice his feelings and anger.

Tim Drake, sitting in the Batmobile, worrying he will be kicked off the team, still internally vying for Bruce’s approval and silencing his concerns, is not that Robin.

Whether he likes it or not, Tim is still (to a degree) reliant on Batman and his approval.

Tim is able to doubt Bruce and disagree with Bruce, but Tim cannot separate himself, or Robin, fully from Batman, despite his claims otherwise.

And with their relationship with one another so clearly still rocky in the wake of the distrust and anger they both experienced during BW:Murderer? It’s not surprising to me that Tim stays silent. Why risk jeopardizing the relationship he almost lost? Why risk potentially getting kicked off the team? Things are just finally returning to normal.

He can say he is independent from Batman, but his actions prove otherwise.

That’s why he stays silent in the car ride when Batman tells him he’s going to fire Steph, and that’s why he lies to Steph later.

It’s a trade: normalcy gets to be reestablished between Batman and Robin, and all Tim has to do is stay silent.

So, Tim stays silent. And when Steph comes to him, he lies to her. And when Steph falls apart, he comforts her because he loves her, but Tim’s relationship with Bruce is just going to have to take priority right now. Too bad. Sorry Steph.

[queerfables]

I've been weighing this for a while and I've finally settled on a reading of Crowley's big revelation in 2x05 that makes sense to me. It's my best guess at what's going on in his head, accounting for the conversation that leads up to this moment, and the conversations that follow.

Full disclosure, I don't have much evidence to discount the possibility that this is Crowley realising how he feels about Aziraphale, except that I think the overarching narrative of Good Omens holds together better if he already knew. I do think my interpretation is stronger in context, though.

Let's review, then: Crowley and Nina have a conversation in which Nina assumes Crowley and Aziraphale are a couple, Crowley denies it, and Nina refuses to believe him. She pries into the reasons he might be lying and finishes up by saying, "Other people's love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own." Crowley walks off looking like he's been hit by a truck.

In his next scene, Crowley is getting day drunk at the French restaurant across from the bookshop. He invites Aziraphale to drink with him, which Aziraphale declines. Crowley quickly starts brooding about the archangel they're hiding in the bookshop. "I spent last night worrying if he's going to wake up. What if he remembers who he is? What if he's faking it?"

I think there's a clear and direct line from conversation A to conversation B. Crowley realises that everyone can see he and Aziraphale are in love. Crowley panics about Gabriel regaining his memories. Rather than a revelation of feelings, I think this was a revelation of danger. Crowley and Aziraphale have survived through secrecy and deception, and it's hitting Crowley that their performance is slipping, under what could be the most intense scrutiny they've ever faced.

This could be a factor in Crowley's subsequent confrontation of Gabriel. I agree with @baggvinshield that pushing Gabriel to jump out the window was a test, but I also think that behind the calculating strategy is scared animal instinct. Gabriel is a threat that it would be safest to just eliminate. Crowley needs to be really fucking sure about him.

It makes sense if the conversation with Nina is what triggers Crowley's fears to resurface, because Crowley's just spent almost a full day alone with Gabriel and he wasn't on high alert the whole time. He let his guard down a little when discussing gravity and while summoning the rainstorm for Maggie and Nina. He was pretty keen to get out of there when Aziraphale got back, but he also sounded fairly relaxed when asked about Gabriel. I think in that moment he's more unsettled by Shax lurking around and the consequences of harbouring a fugitive than afraid of Gabriel himself.

I think Crowley's revelation reads like a romantic "oh" because that's what we're primed to expect. It's a common trope, right? Someone accuses the romantic leads of acting like a couple and they realise it's true. But I think that Crowley's jump to fretting about Gabriel makes more sense if he's realising how obvious their feelings are than if he's only just realising what they mean.

[blackstarlineage]

Assata Shakur, born Joanne Deborah Byron on July 16, 1947, later known as JoAnne Chesimard, is a revolutionary figure, former member of the Black Panther Party (BPP) and the Black Liberation Army (BLA), and a symbol of resistance against racial oppression. She is best known for her involvement in Black liberation movements, her conviction for the killing of a New Jersey State Trooper in 1973, her escape from prison, and her subsequent exile in Cuba, where she was granted political asylum.

Born in New York City, Shakur was raised between Queens and Wilmington, North Carolina, where she experienced firsthand the realities of racial segregation and discrimination. Her political consciousness developed in college, where she became involved in activism during the height of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements. She joined the Harlem chapter of the Black Panther Party in the late 1960s, working on community programs focused on self-defense, education, and social welfare, particularly addressing police brutality and systemic inequality. However, the FBI’s COINTELPRO program, which targeted Black radical organizations, led to increasing government surveillance and repression of the BPP.

Shakur later became involved with the Black Liberation Army (BLA), an underground movement that believed in armed struggle as a means to combat systemic state violence against Black people. The BLA was accused of engaging in violent confrontations with police and government institutions, leading to Shakur being criminalized as a domestic terrorist by the U.S. government. On May 2, 1973, she was involved in a traffic stop on the New Jersey Turnpike with BLA members Zayd Malik Shakur and Sundiata Acoli. A shootout occurred, resulting in the death of State Trooper Werner Foerster and Zayd Shakur. Assata Shakur was shot and arrested, later convicted in 1977 of murder and sentenced to life in prison, despite claims of an unfair trial, racial bias, and contradictions in the prosecution’s case.

In 1979, with the help of allies in the Black liberation movement, she escaped from Clinton Correctional Facility for Women in New Jersey and eventually fled to Cuba, where she was granted asylum by the government of Fidel Castro. Since then, she has lived in exile, becoming a symbol of both revolutionary resistance and controversy. The U.S. government has classified her as a fugitive and placed her on the FBI’s Most Wanted Terrorists list, offering a $2 million bounty for her capture. Despite this, she remains an icon of Black liberation and anti-imperialist struggle, inspiring activists worldwide through her writings, including her autobiography, which details her experiences, political philosophy, and unwavering commitment to justice.

Beyond her activism in the U.S., Assata Shakur’s ideology is deeply rooted in Pan-Africanism, a philosophy that aligns with the teachings of Marcus Garvey and other Black liberation leaders who emphasized unity among African-descended people worldwide. Throughout her activism, she championed the idea that Black liberation in the U.S. was intrinsically connected to the struggles of African and diasporic peoples against colonialism, imperialism, and systemic oppression. Her exile in Cuba not only provided her with refuge but also reinforced her Pan-Africanist perspective, as she engaged with revolutionary movements from Africa, the Caribbean, and Latin America. In her writings and public statements, she has advocated for the strengthening of global Black solidarity, emphasizing the importance of self-determination, economic independence, and resistance to neocolonial forces. Her Pan-Africanism is evident in her belief that Black people must transcend national boundaries and work collectively to dismantle oppressive systems worldwide, making her a symbol of international Black resistance and unity.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Did I Make You Proud?

Character: Spy!Bucky x Rogue!Spy Female Reader

Summary: Imagine being a rogue agent, relentlessly pursued by your irresistibly attractive former mentor, Bucky, who is determined to track you down.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky P.O.V

Bucky's gaze flicked up to the intercom as the voice crackled through, laden with stress. "Did you see her?"

He sighed, the weight of the crowded train station bearing down on him. "Too many people here," he muttered, his frustration evident in the terse response.

"I never thought she would betray us. We have to find her before they do," came the voice from the intercom, laden with frustration.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration mirroring the tone on the intercom.

It was understandable why tensions ran high in the spy agency; one of their own had gone rogue, becoming a fugitive and leaving chaos in their wake.

And to make matters worse, the rogue agent is you.

The senior agent, Bucky received a direct order to apprehend the rogue agent. He was the one who had trained and guided you.

The situation's urgency hit him like a wave as he grasped the gravity of the rogue agent's actions. You had obtained sensitive data from a secret base and were planning to sell it to another country, triggering a potential international crisis.

"BANG."

The explosion erupted from the toilet, sending shockwaves through the crowded area.

"KYAA!!!" Panic spread like wildfire as people scrambled everywhere except for Bucky.

He remained calm amidst the chaos, a knowing look in his eyes as he recognized the familiar tactic. He had taught you well – create a distraction but ensure no civilians get hurt. It was a motto they lived by.

As his colleagues and the soldiers mobilized to locate the source of the explosion, Bucky's focus was unwavering. His gaze swept over the frantic crowd until, finally, he spotted you.

There you were, a smirk playing on your lips as you sat inside the cafe directly across from him.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over Bucky – relief at finally finding you, the rogue agent, mingled with disappointment and a touch of regret.

Despite the agencies hot on your trail, you exuded an air of confidence, leisurely sipping your coffee as if you hadn't a care in the world. Bucky's jaw clenched with determination as he observed you from afar, his fist tightening as he made his way towards your location.

As he anticipated, you had vanished from the cafe, but your signature perfume lingered in the air, serving as a tantalizing clue. Trusting his instincts, Bucky followed the scent until he spotted you boarding a train.

With a quickened pace, he hurried to catch up, his steps purposeful as he entered the same carriage as you. The doors closed behind them, sealing their fate within the confines of the train.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" the intercom crackled with concern.

Bucky's hand moved swiftly to remove the device from his ear, slipping it into his pocket as he met your gaze with steely resolve. "I found her," he declared, his voice firm as he prepared to confront the rogue agent face to face.

Bucky quickened his pace, determination driving his strides as he reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to the quiet area of the train.

"Stop what you're doing. Do you want to get caught and be a prisoner in another country?" he pleaded, his voice laced with urgency and concern.

You shrugged nonchalantly, seeming unfazed by the consequences. "As long as I get paid," you replied, a hint of indifference in your tone.

Bucky's grip tightened as he looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of recognition. "This isn't you," he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation.

Pushing away his hand, you retorted, "What happened to 'no strings attached'?"

Bucky grumbled in frustration, feeling the weight of his own words haunting him. Perhaps you were right; he shouldn't have let himself worry about you.

But memories flooded his mind – the nights spent together, sharing warmth on cold evenings, and when you pretended to be husband and wife. Those days held a special place in his heart, now overshadowed by your betrayal.

"You... you were different," he muttered, struggling to reconcile the person he once knew with the rogue agent before him.

With a smirk, you met his gaze defiantly. "Because of you and the agency pushing my limits, I've learned my true value," you declared, your confidence unwavering.

"I'm a good spy."

Bucky couldn't deny the truth in your words. Despite the circumstances, there was no denying your skill as a spy. You had learned from the best – him.

As tension crackled between them, a mixture of frustration, longing, and unresolved emotions hung in the air, a testament to the complex relationship they once shared.

Bucky's voice was stern as he demanded, "Where's the data?"

You met his gaze with defiance, a smirk playing on your lips. "Too late. Before you guys found me at the train station, I already handed it over to the buyer."

The weight of your words hung heavily in the air as Bucky processed the gravity of the situation. "Do you even realize what you've done?" he asked, his tone tinged with disbelief.

You shrugged casually, a flicker of intensity in your eyes. "Can't you see the big picture? If there's only peace, people like us won't exist. I'm just here to keep it alive," you retorted, your confidence palpable, starkly contrasting to the timid and quiet persona he once knew.

Bucky fell silent, taken aback by the transformation before him. You had evolved into someone both confident and alluring, your newfound demeanor leaving him both impressed and unsettled.

You sensed his internal struggle and couldn't resist teasing him further. "Did I make you proud?" you inquired, tilting your head provocatively and adding a coy "Sir?" to the end of your question.

A mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you continued, "Or perhaps you'd rather catch me and handcuff me to your bed?"

Bucky's patience wore thin as he reached out, his fingers pinching your chin to meet his gaze. Leaning in closer, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss filled with unspoken tension.

The kiss spoke volumes, a collision of conflicting emotions – desire, frustration, and longing – all wrapped up in a single moment of intimacy.

As Bucky pulled away, his voice was low and authoritative. "Don't test my patience," he warned, his eyes burning with a mixture of warning and undeniable desire.

You let out a low, almost amused hum. "Hmm... I know."

The train whisked them away, racing across the bridge with breathtaking scenery flashing by. In a different circumstance, perhaps they could have appreciated the view together. But now, they were locked in a tense standoff.

"We should meet again," you remarked, breaking the silence.

Bucky's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You offered no explanation, but a sense of unease prickled at Bucky's senses. He tensed, feeling a presence behind him, and his suspicions were confirmed when he turned to find seven men poised for a fight.

"Really?" Bucky shot you a disbelieving look as you shrugged nonchalantly.

"I need something to stall the time. I'll see you again, Sir." You turned and bolted with that, leaving Bucky to face the onslaught alone. He braced himself, ready to take on the challenge.

The fight was fierce, a whirlwind of punches and kicks as Bucky engaged in a battle of wits and strength. Despite being outnumbered, his training and skill allowed him to emerge victorious.

As he dealt the final blow, the sound of a helicopter overhead drew his attention. Bucky sighed, realizing that this was your escape plan unfolding.

When the train finally came to a halt, Bucky found himself surrounded by his agency colleagues, their expressions a mix of disappointment and frustration.

"She got away?" one of them asked, voicing the collective sentiment.

Bucky could only nod grimly. "Yup."

"Shit."

The frustration simmered within Bucky as he slid his hand into his jacket pocket, feeling something unexpected. With a quick glance, he pulled out a small item, his cheeks flushing crimson as he recognized it. It was undoubtedly your doing, a teasing reminder of your audacity.

Despite his frustration, Bucky couldn't deny the thrill of the chase, the challenge you presented only fueling his determination to catch you.

With a silent vow, Bucky steeled himself for the subsequent encounter. He would find you; this time, you wouldn't slip through his fingers so easily.

🚁

As you reached the top of the stairs, panting slightly from the exhilarating climb from the moving train, thrill and nervousness danced in your veins. 

Clara, your partner in crime and the helicopter pilot shook her head in disbelief. "I knew you wanted to make a cool exit for your hot former mentor, but this has to stop," she chided a hint of exasperation in her tone.

"Climbing up from a moving train? You might as well have signed your own death warrant," Clara continued, her eyes wide with concern.

You flashed her a mischievous grin, trying to brush off the seriousness of the situation. "I just wanted to impress him," you admitted, your voice laced with a hint of sheepishness.

Clara sighed, knowing all too well how to handle your impulsive tendencies. "Maybe next time, just kidnap him and live on a private island. Then you two can live happily ever after," she suggested with a playful wink.

You chuckled at the absurdity of her suggestion but couldn't help but entertain the thought. "That's not a bad idea. I should save money to buy an island," you mused, already picturing the two of you lounging on a tropical beach, far away from the chaos of the spy world.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

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[asterbats]

Hero/Partner Week Day 2: Role Swap (Team Comet > Team Meanies)

@heropartnerweek

Can't commit to the entire week because I'm still in my slump and I'm on vacation, sorry </3 But I wanted to do at least one day, so here's a villain au.

The idea is that both Nuri and Gastly keep their "inciting incidents" but their roles in the narrative are swapped. Nuri still sends the meteor flying towards the PMD world from her station in Mossdeep City, and Gastly still abandons Gardevoir to the Ninetales Curse.

Basically, Nuri and Chip's flaws are cranked up to the max. Nuri never got over her fear and decided to force her way into power to cope with it. She's an authority figure in Pokemon Square, and Chip, loyal to a fault, is her attack cat who would do anything for her. He's really more of the "Gengar" type in personality, where he likes to toy with others because of the power he has.

Team Meanies is still a more "antagonistic" team here. They still harass other explorers and stuff. But over the course of the story, they kinda keep accidentally fixing things, which kinda propels them into a redemption arc anyways. Gastly is forced to confront his issues a lot earlier by becoming a fugitive and seeking out Ninetales, and actually breaks the curse early as well.

Nuri meanwhile was basically attempting to redirect her guilt onto Gastly, kinda the way Gengar does in canon. Once everything is cleared up and Groudon starts rampaging, she and Chip vanish in the night, not appearing until Chip comes back in the postgame to beg for Team Meanies to rescue Nuri from Meteor Cave...

[sabrinajenre96]

Wes Mitchell x FBI!Reader:

WARNING:Please be aware that this story contains depictions of violence and injury, including a character being shot and undergoing surgery. It also deals with emotional themes of love, loss, and regret. If these topics are sensitive for you, please consider this a warning before reading.

The air crackled with tension. Greg Csonka’s conviction hung in the balance, and the fly team was tasked with ensuring his secure transport. You, an FBI agent with a history intertwined with Wes Mitchell, felt the weight of the situation. You and Wes shared a deep connection, a silent understanding that shimmered beneath the surface of your friendship. But life, in the form of his previous relationship and your own reticence, had kept you apart. Neither of you dared to risk the comfortable camaraderie for something more, something potentially explosive.

Alongside Wes and your best friend and colleague, Cameron, you were part of the escort detail. Chaos erupted when an ambush shattered the carefully laid plans. Bullets flew, adrenaline surged, and the hunt for Csonka began. You three took the lead, determined to recapture the fugitive. Cornering him in what you thought was a secure location, you never saw the sniper’s nest. The crack of the rifle echoed, followed by a searing pain. You crumpled to the ground, the world tilting on its axis. Csonka escaped.

The world narrowed to the frantic shouts of your teammates and the rising panic in your own chest. You were vaguely aware of being rushed to the hospital, the urgency in their voices a stark contrast to the fading light in your eyes.

The team’s world stopped. Everyone was at the hospital, a silent vigil for your life hanging heavy in the air. Raines stayed by your side, while Cameron, Smitty, Mitchell, and Booth relentlessly pursued Csonka. Wes was a man possessed, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a grim determination. He pushed himself to the limit, but his thoughts were only with you, his mind replaying every shared laugh, every stolen glance.

They found Csonka, but the confrontation ended in his death. The case, though closed, felt hollow. Their victory was overshadowed by the fear that gripped them all. They rushed back to the hospital, desperate for news.

Raines met them with a weary but relieved smile. You were stable, but in the ICU. Complications during surgery had necessitated close monitoring. One by one, they were allowed to see you.

Wes was the last to enter your room. He sat beside your bed, his hand gently resting on yours. He thought you were unconscious, lost in the medicated haze. The dam of his emotions broke.

"Y/N," he began, his voice thick with unshed tears, "I… I have to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago. I’ve been in love with you since… well, since forever. But I was an idiot. I let things get in the way. I was afraid of ruining our friendship, afraid of… everything. Remember that time we went to that concert, and it rained? We were soaked, but we just laughed. That was the moment I knew. But I was with someone else, and… I messed up. I’ve been messing up ever since. Please, Y/N, come back to me."

You lay there, perfectly still, listening to his heartfelt confession. Every word resonated deep within you. You had felt the same way, the same unspoken longing. The concert, the rain, his laughter… those memories were etched in your heart, too. A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but you kept your eyes closed, wanting to hear every word.

When he finished, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, which was filled with a mixture of hope and despair.

"I love you too, Wes," you whispered, your voice weak but clear.

His eyes widened in disbelief, then filled with a radiant joy that chased away the shadows. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, tentative kiss.

"I love you," he repeated, his voice husky.

"I love you too," you replied, a smile gracing your lips.

The road ahead wouldn't be easy. Navigating the complexities of your careers, the aftermath of the shooting, and the delicate dance of a new relationship would be challenging. But you faced it together, two souls who had finally found their way to each other, their love a beacon in the midst of the storm.