#How to build a survival kit

[snekdood]

this is so true 😩 absolutely 0 survival skills

"if we make america worse and more of a dictatorship that will be even harder to unravel and make it the way we want the country to be, maybe then everyone will join our Glorious Revolution!" bb girl you cant even be in the same room with someone who thinks you should vote, how in tf do you think you're gonna unite people to fight in The Revolution with you? it's gonna be you and your 5 friends, i hate to break it to you.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

A/N: I wanted to try out making Bob more sassy like he got in the movie. Lmk what you think 

Summary: You left for a mission without warning and end up hurt. You try to hide your pain but Bob notices you're hurt quickly, it shouldn't be a surprise since he notices everything about you.

Warnings: Bob is more sassy than what I usually write, reader is hurt and talks about thinking they wouldn't survive the mission.

You were doing a fantastic job pretending nothing was wrong. To anyone else, you looked the same as always. Same steady walk, same calm expression, a fake little smile to show that you weren't screaming in pain on the inside. You even made it all the way through the side entrance, past the elevator, and into the kitchen with a granola bar halfway to your mouth before a voice behind you called your bluff.

“Really?” Bob said, from across the room. “That’s the limp we’re going with?”

You froze mid-bite. “What?”

He was leaning against the counter with a glass of water in one hand and the most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen on his face. “You heard me,” he said, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. “You disappear for eleven hours, you come back looking like you got thrown through a brick wall, and you think you can just waltz in here like nothing’s wrong?”

“I didn’t get thrown through a wall,” you muttered.

“Okay, so what was it? Off a roof? Into a dumpster? Side of a building? Plate of glass?... Your dignity?”

You scowled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bob raised a brow and made a face that clearly said, Tough shit.

“You think I don’t notice you wincing every time you breathe in too deep? You’re holding your arm like it’s about to fall off, and don’t even get me started on the very fresh bruise I saw peeking under your shirt right now.” You glanced down, realizing too late your hoodie had ridden up. “It’s fine.” You mumble as you adjusted your hoodie.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re really bad at lying, at least to me.” he said, already walking toward the cabinet where he kept the first-aid kit. “Sit your ass down before I have to carry you.”

“I don’t need—”

“If you say ‘I don’t need help,’ I swear to God I will smack you with the ice pack.”

You blinked at him, stunned into silence, before finally sinking down into a chair with a long sigh. Bob dropped the kit on the table and gave you a look half fond, half are you kidding me right now? as he pulled out antiseptic wipes and gauze. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered, crouching in front of you to inspect the bruise. “Because if anyone else tried to sneak in here all beat to hell like this, I’d’ve locked them in the med bay for a week out of spite.” You let out a low laugh. “So this is what I get for being your favorite.”

Bob glanced up at you with a smirk and slightly softened eyes. “Damn right. You get my full, undivided, judgmental care.” He was gentle with his hands, even while cursing you under his breath. He cleaned the cut along your ribs like he was handling something delicate, but that didn’t stop the commentary.

“Didn’t tell anyone how the mission was going, you never checked in. Classic move truly. Texted me some vague shitty update about being ‘fine’ which, for the record, you are not.” He mumbled as he wrapped the gaze around you. You hung your head low knowing how upset you made him, you tried to explain yourself, “It's your day off. I thought you were off duty.”

“I’m never off duty when it comes to you,” he said, too fast, too easily, too sternly to not mean anything then looked away like he didn’t just casually throw complex feelings at your feet. The words hit harder than they should’ve, but you didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. Not when he was already kneeling there, patching you up, cracking jokes to hide the tight worry in his eyes. Once he finished bandaging your side, he stood and set the ice pack against your shoulder.

“You’re lucky I’m not dragging you to the infirmary.”

“You’re lucky I’m letting you sass me.” Bob leaned in slightly, his voice low but teasing. “You say that like I wouldn’t do that either way.” You snorted. “You're unbelievable.” He just grinned. “That’s what you get for coming back half-dead and thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

And even though he kept joking, even though he was smirking like it was all in good fun—you saw it. The little flicker of worry he hadn’t quite managed to hide. The way his eyes kept scanning you like he was making sure you were still here.

“Seriously,” he said more softly now. “Next time? Just tell me. Let me have your back.” You nodded, guilt and gratitude mixing in your chest. “Okay.” Bob didn’t push the moment. He just pulled out a fresh ice pack, handed it to you, and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch.

“Good,” he said, tossing it over your lap. “Now sit there and pretend to rest while I make you tea, and don’t even think about getting up. I’ll duct tape you to that chair if I have to.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re oddly threatening for a guy who just tucked me in.” Bob shrugged, heading for the stove. “Yeah, well. I multitask.”

And he was good at multitasking. He worried while he teased. Scolded and comforted. And lucky for you, Bob Reynolds never let a bruise, or a lie go untreated.

Especially when it came to you.

Later, after the tea’s gone cold and the TV hums in the background playing some half-watched documentary, Bob is still there. You’re curled up on the couch under the blanket he gave you, eyes heavy but refusing to close all the way. The soreness in your ribs makes every shift uncomfortable, and your shoulder still throbs in dull pulses. But worse than that is the restlessness the leftover adrenaline and quiet shame twisting in your chest.

Bob doesn’t say much. He just settles into the armchair across from you, long legs stretched out, a second mug of tea forgotten on the table. “Go to sleep,” he says softly, noticing your eyes flick open again. “I’m trying,” you mumble. “Yeah? You’re failing pretty hard.” You glare halfheartedly. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

“That’s because you are being watched. Get over it.” You huff a laugh, and he smiles–just barely. “Why are you still here?” you ask, voice hushed. Bob shrugs, like it should be obvious. “You don’t sleep well after missions. Especially when they go sideways.” You blink at him. “You… know it went sideways?” He gives you a look like you just asked if the sky was blue. “I know everything.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He shifts, elbows on his knees, voice quiet but certain. “You came back stiff, wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. You hovered like you’re trying not to take up any space. And when you’re really rattled? You fake being sleepy but you don’t actually sleep. You just lie there and stew.”

You stare at him for a moment, and something inside your chest softens, it finally gives. You didn’t think anyone noticed those things hell, you didn’t notice most of that. Bob notices everything. And now he’s watching you the way he always does gently, patiently, like he’s not in a rush for you to admit anything, just waiting for when you’re ready. 

It’s sometime after midnight when the words finally come. The room is dark except for the flicker of the TV and the harsh lights that come through the windows when cars drive by. Bob’s head is tipped back against the chair, eyes closed—but he’s not asleep. You know he’s not. You can always tell.

“…I thought I was going to die out there,” you say, voice barely audible. His eyes snap open instantly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just waits completely still as if he's holding his breath waiting for you to speak again. “There was this moment where I just…I froze. For the first time in a long time. And it was over something so stupid. It was a small thing. A tripwire. I should’ve seen it. I’ve seen a thousand of them. But I didn’t. And I thought, ‘shit this is really it.’”

The words tumble out, cracked and raw. “And I couldn’t stop thinking how no one would know. Not for a few of hours at least. I didn’t even tell anyone I was leaving. I just... left. And then I was alone. And terrified. And pissed at myself for even being scared.”

Bob doesn’t interrupt. He just listens.

“I got out. I mean obviously I did. But—” You exhale shakily. “I didn’t know who I’d be when I got back. Or if I even deserved to come back here.” There’s a pause. You’re not crying, but your throat burns like you could. Bob finally leans forward, elbows on his knees again, voice low and steady. “You came back.”

You nod, eyes down. “And for the record,” he adds, “you always deserve to come back.” You shake your head, a bitter laugh in your throat. “You don’t get it.” He leans in, voice sharper now, but not unkind. “No you don’t get it. I do get it. I know exactly what it feels like to walk away from something and wonder if you earned the right to survive it.”

You look up, startled.

He holds your gaze. “You think I haven’t screwed up? You think I haven’t made a call I regret, or gotten someone hurt, or came back from a mission thinking I should’ve stayed behind?” Bob reaches forward and takes your hand steady, warm, grounding. “I’m not gonna let you sit here and punish yourself for surviving. You didn’t fail. You made it out. You survived. And if you’d just told me what you were planning in the first place, I would’ve been there.”

Your eyes sting, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. He squeezes your hand. “You’re allowed to mess up. You’re allowed to get scared; hell, you should feel that at times. But don’t shut me out. I notice when you disappear on me. And that matters. You matter, especially to me.”

You close your eyes, trying to breathe through the tight ache in your chest.

When you open them again, Bob is still looking at you, looking at you as if you were soft, strong, unshakable.

He doesn’t let go.

And you don’t want him to.

I making a taglist lmk if youd like to be added to Bob's :)

taglist: @itsjustisa

[withluvkay]

Your Life’s Not Boring—You’re Just on Your Phone Too Much

If you’ve been feeling glued to your phone—especially apps like TikTok and Instagram—you’re not alone. So many of us are stuck in this loop, and it can seriously mess with our energy, motivation, and overall health.

One thing I’ve struggled most with lately is comparison. Feeling like what I do just isn’t... enough. If you’ve felt that too, this post is for us both. A little reminder that:

✨ You are enough, just as you are. ✨ You’ve survived every hard day, and your inner child and I are so proud of you. Don't ever forget how far you've come as a person! If all you did was make your bed and hydrate today, that's a win worth celebrating. You're doing just fine, and you'll do all that you wish to on your own divine timing.

And yes, your life isn’t boring. You might just be too distracted to see how beautiful it really is. So instead of escaping it, let’s try to romanticize it!

10 Ways to Romanticize Your Life & Be More Present

Wake up a little earlier. It doesn’t have to be 5 AM (unless that’s your thing). Even an hour earlier can give you quiet time to get things done without distractions.

Take an "everything shower." These are pretty meditative for me in a way. I like to imagine the water washing off all my stress and stagnant energy I may have accumulated throughout the day. Like a reset button!

Make a breakfast you’d actually get out of bed early for. Pancakes? Fruit? Whatever makes your inner child happy.

Play jazz or soft instrumentals while doing everyday activities. Instant cozy vibes.

Read outside. Sitting on your porch or even by a window gives you that vitamin D and a fresh perspective.

Find a screen-less hobby you enjoy. Try crochet, painting, poetry, LEGO kits, pottery, etc. Block-building kits are my fave—they’re so fun and satisfying. Just remember to take breaks and stretch!

Re-watch something comforting or start something new. That show you keep skipping past might become your next obsession.

Connect. If you’ve been stuck in your room all day, talk to someone. Call a friend, hug your pet, or chat with family. A quick convo with my mom always boosts my mood!

Learn something new! When was the last time you went out of your way to explore something you didn’t already know? (and nope, school doesn’t count.) Take a moment to find a subject you’ve never looked into or dive deeper into one you already know a little about. Pick up on a new language, study an unfamiliar culture, or even try learning a random skill just for fun. Expanding your mind keeps life feeling fresh and exciting.

Travel (if you can). I can't stress this one enough!! Even just getting out of town for a single 24 hours can give you a whole new perspective. A change of scenery does wonders, especially when life feels repetitive. It doesn't have to be far, either. You can travel to the next city over and explore what it's like there!

Remember: Social media is NOT real life. That influencer who’s always partying in Miami with a closet full of designer bags? You’re seeing their highlight reel, not the full picture. Some even goes as far as faking luxury lifestyles for the views. Don’t compare your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s curated feed. At the end of the day, it's all for the aesthetics/entertainment.

Be gentle with yourself. You're doing better than you think, angel. xo, Kay 🪽

[villainbait]

Exclusive Favors

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.

[clemmmmmmmmmmmmmm]

“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.”

Bat boys x reader:Giving birth unexpectedly!

This is a filler headcannon. I will post works next week hopefully.This is inspired by the way i had my son;In our car in a campsite😭😭.wrote this while my partner and son are asleep (Finally.)💛Enjoy!!

Bruce Wayne –

Gives birth in the Batcave during a lockdown

• Bruce has contingency plans for everything. Protocols. Staff. Medical equipment. Even a direct line to the best OB-GYN in Gotham, complete with a private hospital suite prepped and waiting.

• So when you go into labor two weeks early during a surprise cave lockdown triggered by a bio-threat alert, Bruce realizes just how little plans mean in the face of reality.

• “Of all the days to trip the emergency security seal…” he mutters while trying to override the system that locked down the Batcave.

• You’re pacing in the command center, gripping his arm mid-contraction, and Bruce—THE Batman—is rattled. Not visibly. But his jaw is tighter than steel, and his voice keeps lowering into that clipped, deadly tone.

• “The ventilation systems are sealed. Medical wing is sterile. We’ll stay here.”

• He clears the armory’s examination table, then covers it with sanitized cloth from the medkit. Everything becomes clinical—measured.

• But then you cry out in pain and fear, and that cold steel in his voice breaks just slightly. “I’m here. You’re safe. I promise you—you’re safe.”

• He’s no doctor, but his hands are steady. He follows the steps like a soldier disarming a bomb, all while keeping your eyes locked with his.

• When the baby finally comes, Bruce catches them with reverence and holds them for a moment before laying them on your chest. “Hello,” he whispers, as if stunned. “You’re early. Just like your father.”

• Once the lockdown ends, Alfred is the first to arrive. He says nothing when he sees the scene—just places a blanket over your shoulders and smiles at Bruce. “Master Wayne, it appears your most impressive legacy has just begun.”

⸻

Jason Todd –

Gives birth in a remote mountain cabin during a snowstorm

• You and Jason were supposed to be taking a quiet getaway in the mountains—no crime, no city noise, just peace.

• But a snowstorm traps you both in the cabin, and you go into labor with no service, no landline, and no neighbors for miles.

• Jason tries to stay calm, but his hands keep flexing like he wants to punch the storm into submission. “You’d think after all the crap I’ve survived, I’d get one weekend off,” he growls while boiling water on the stove and digging out the first aid kit.

• The fireplace crackles as he builds a makeshift birthing space with every warm blanket he can find. He holds you through the worst of the contractions, whispering calming reassurances that are so unlike the man most people know.

• “You’re not alone. Not for a second. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”

• You scream through it. Cry. Curse. And Jason stays right there, steady and strong, letting you dig your nails into him without complaint.

• When the baby comes, he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until you reach up and brush his cheek.

• “They’re perfect,” you whisper.

• Jason looks down at the tiny, red-faced bundle and chuckles—half disbelief, half raw emotion. “You know… I’ve cheated death, escaped hell….but this is the scariest, most incredible thing I’ve ever done.”

• The storm finally ends the next morning. Jason steps out onto the porch with the baby swaddled to his chest, looking out over the snowy mountains and whispering, “No better place to start over.”

⸻

Tim Drake –

Gives birth in the WayneTech server room during a tech emergency

• Tim was showing you around the newly renovated WayneTech R&D floor when the unthinkable happens: a massive tech breach hits the servers, and your water breaks at the same time.

• Alarms are going off. The elevators are frozen. And you’re gripping a rack of prototype tech while Tim stares at you in utter disbelief.

• “I—uh—okay. Okay. Baby. Yes. Not now, but yes.”

• He immediately drops into triage mode. He reroutes power, uses an emergency system override to lock down the room for privacy, and hacks a medbot to assist.

• You’re lying on a pile of foam floor tiles, breathing through a contraction while surrounded by glowing server lights and the hum of computers.

• “So…this isn’t exactly the sterile birth plan,” you groan.

• “Statistically speaking, no,” he deadpans, then flashes a smile. “But the lighting’s dramatic.”

• He talks you through each contraction, quoting snippets from baby books and software manuals alike, as if he’s compiling his own parenthood operating system in real-time.

• “You’re doing amazing. I don’t know how you’re handling this with only 20% battery and no Wi-Fi.”

• You scream again. “Timothy!”

• “Right, shutting up.”

• When the baby finally arrives, he goes silent. Truly silent. No jokes. Just wide-eyed, overwhelmed wonder.

• “They’re… ours,” he whispers, staring down at this impossibly tiny human like they’re a miracle.

He wraps you both in his jacket and sits on the server room floor with the baby in his arms.

Dick Grayson –

Gives birth in a subway car

• Dick had planned everything. He mapped out the fastest hospital routes, kept emergency bags packed, and even memorized breathing techniques like he was preparing for an Olympic sport.

• But fate has a flair for drama, and on a completely normal afternoon ride through the Blüdhaven subway, your water breaks in the middle of a crowded train.

• At first, you thought it was just a Braxton-Hicks contraction. Dick was even joking about the train delays. Then you grabbed his arm and said, “Dick… I think it’s happening.”

• All the blood drains from his face. “Happening like… happening happening?”

• He immediately takes charge with a surprising level of calm—because behind the charming, goofy exterior, Dick Grayson is a born leader.

• “Alright everyone, I’m going to need some space. My partner is about to give birth. Please—back up and someone call emergency services.”

• Someone tries to film, and Dick glares. “Unless you want a lawsuit and a shattered phone, put it down.” The phone disappears instantly.

• He helps you lie down on a bench in the mostly-cleared car, cushions your head with his jacket, and holds your hand like a lifeline. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

• Between contractions, you keep asking if the train is moving. It isn’t. Power outage. Of course.

• “You had to propose to me on a rooftop, and now our baby’s coming in a subway,” you groan.

• “What can I say? We’re just a very public transit family.”

• You scream at him to stop making jokes. He doesn’t. It’s the only thing keeping him sane too.

• When the baby is finally born, the train lights flicker back on—almost poetic. Dick holds them like the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

• “Hey, little one. Welcome to Blüdhaven Underground.”

• When help finally arrives, you’re both surrounded by a circle of subway strangers who are all a little teary-eyed.

• Dick doesn’t let go of either of you for hours. “I’ve done a lot of things in tights and under pressure… but nothing as incredible as this.”

⸻

Damian Wayne aged!up

Gives birth in an art gallery during his solo exhibition

• Damian, now 26, has traded the Robin mantle for a quieter life—he’s a respected artist known for surrealist pieces that blend traditional Middle Eastern motifs with Gotham’s harsh modernity.

• You’re 8 and 1/2 months pregnant when he unveils his latest collection in a sleek, intimate art gallery downtown. The night is supposed to be a celebration of his evolution as a person and creator.

• But the gallery is warm, and crowded, and you’ve been on your feet all night admiring his pieces with other guests. That’s when you feel the sharp, unmistakable pain of labor.

• “Damian,” you whisper, grabbing his hand. He thinks you’re just tired until you add, “It’s happening. Now.”

• His whole face changes. Not panic—just immediate, tactical focus. “We need to leave. Now.”

• But the contractions are fast and furious. You’re not making it to the hospital. A horrified gallery intern runs to grab supplies, while Damian helps you to the quietest room—a stark, white-walled exhibit space filled with his paintings.

• Ironically, the piece behind you is called Rebirth.

• Damian sheds his jacket and lays it beneath you. He calls Talia first—yes, his mother. Say what you will, she knows how to keep her cool in chaos.

• “She’ll be fine,” Talia says over the phone. “Trust her. Trust yourself.”

• He gently presses his forehead to yours between contractions, speaking to you in soft Arabic—his most vulnerable, instinctual language. “You are strength. You are life.”

• He coaches you through the birth with focused determination and awe. When the baby arrives, it’s quiet for a moment… then a cry. He exhales shakily.

• The first thing he does is lay the baby on your chest, whispering reverently, “My finest creation.”

• Someone tries to enter the room, and Damian growls, “You will not disturb them.” The door shuts. Fast.

• Later, he paints a piece inspired by that night—an abstract image of you and the baby, surrounded by the negative space of a blank canvas. He titles it Origin.

• “I thought my art was complete,” he says quietly, holding your hand. “But nothing I ever make will compare to the life we just brought into this world.”

[yourlocallgothamite]

[Conversations that Y/N, the batfamily doctor, has with Jason when stiching him up]:

⸻

Jason: Okay, let me get this straight: you’re a doctor who fixes people, but you don’t fix my terrible decisions? Not cool, Doc.”

Y/N: Jason, last time I checked, ‘terrible decisions’ isn’t a medical condition. You want me to operate on your common sense? Sorry, I’m fresh out of anesthesia for that.

Jason: That’s harsh. I thought you were supposed to care about my wellbeing.

Y/N: I do care. That’s why I carry a trauma kit — for when you inevitably fall off a building trying to ‘look cool.’ Spoiler alert: You don’t look cool.

Jason: Hey, cool is subjective.

Y/N: [eye-roll] Yeah, okay.

⸻

Jason: Why do you play that sad playlist every time I’m around? Trying to make me cry?

Y/N: No, I’m testing your emotional range. So far, you’re failing spectacularly.

Jason: Well, I’m trying to survive in Gotham, not a poetry slam.

Y/N: You act like Gotham made you this way. I think you were born brooding.

Jason: Brooding’s an art form. It takes practice. And lots of scowling.

Y/N: Your scowl could crack glass. I’m just waiting for the day you shatter something useful.

Jason: Like your heart?

Y/N: Please don’t. That would require an operation, and I’m already booked for the next three months.”

⸻

Jason: You know, I really don’t get how you stay so calm around me.

Y/N: Because I'm a trained professional, and you're mildly entertaining.

Jason: Mildly? That’s the best you’ve got?

Y/N: Compared to your family? Yes.

Jason: That’s harsh. I’m basically the most charming.

Y/N: Sure, if ‘charming’ means ‘accident-prone and emotionally unavailable.'

Jason: I’ll take that as a compliment.

[demilypyro]

Honestly I never liked Starline much. As far as IDW's original characters went, he was my least favorite. For a long time, he was just Eggman's overeager sidekick, and I didn't really see what he was supposed to add. But supposedly, Surge and Kit were planned characters right from the very start of the comic's run. And if that's true, it reframes Starline's character a lot.

If the goal all along was to eventually introduce Surge and Kit into the plot, then it makes sense they needed to introduce a new character to create them. Because a lot of the drama of their characters comes from their trauma. They were kidnapped, tortured and brainwashed, and who they were before that is unknown. The only person who knows their pasts is Starline. And in the very same issue that fully introduces Surge and Kit into the series, issue 50, Starline gets summarily killed off. It's been 24 issues since, and there's been no sign of him. The only person who knows their pasts is gone.

Through this lens, the utility of Starline's character becomes very clear. They wanted to introduce Surge and Kit, but needed to build towards them. They had to justify their existence in the narrative with the proper drama. Erasing their past was one way to do this, but this necessitates another character entirely. Someone needed to create them, and that person would need to go away. It couldn't be Eggman, since Eggman will always survive and return eventually. But an entirely original character could freely be killed off. Still, his influence could continue to haunt Surge and Kit.

Starline's arc was one of lost faith. He began by idolizing Eggman and wanting to please him. But then he was shocked by Eggman's seeming unwillingness to just... win. Eggman didn't want to kill Sonic before proving his full superiority by beating him fairly, and Starline eventually lost his admiration for the man. This was established quite early, as early as issue 14, so we can tell these seeds were planted with his future arc in mind.

Rather than helping Eggman, it became Starline's goal to surpass Eggman, by breaking the narrative stalemate between the heroes and villains. Endless stories like that of Sonic require that the hero always win, but the villain always survive and return. He wanted to break that status quo, what he called The Sonic Cycle. What he didn't realize was how expendable he is as a character.

As a character stuck inside the narrative, he could see the cycle, but he didn't see why it existed: editorial oversight. The powers that be would never allow Sonic or Eggman to die. He never had the narrative importance to accomplish this. He was only ever a means to an end, a narrative tool to introduce Surge and Kit. That would be his only lasting legacy. And there's tragedy in that. But he was also downright awful, so I can't say I feel sorry for him.

In the end, he was another victim of The Sonic Cycle, outlived by his creations, who have far more narrative potential. Get dunked on.

[cliosunshine]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐯𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭 🐾

or how the first time your boyfriend meets your cat doesn't go as planned (he survives don't worry)

Jason Todd x gn!reader

Warnings: none, reader is a doctor and Norbert is a chunky boi

After successfully taking down another trafficking ring, Jason was ready to head back home.

As he helped the last person out of their restraints, shots got fired from behind him, causing him to promptly duck by the nearest car. He went to take his guns into his hands, but quickly realized he must've threw them earlier when approaching the little girls kept in the warehouse, trying to appear as little intimitanding as possible.

"Shit," he muttered, searching for a way out. Without thinking, he grabbed the body of one of the men he had shot and used it as his shield until he got to the other side of the street, where he could see one of the men's rifles.

Quickly discarding of the corpse, he took the weapon into his hands, muscle memory kicking in as he fired at the sniper perched by the window of an abandoned building.

Retrieving his guns, he managed to run a few blocks towards his bike before more shots were being fired at him, certainly from Black Mask's goons.

As he fired back, one of the bullets from the aggressors pierced throught his left thigh, making him grunt in pain.

The adrenaline in his body was too high for him to fully comprehend the situation. Ultimately he managed to kill some of the goons before storming off on his bike.

While skimming trought the desolated streets of Gotham, Jason knew he needed medical attention asap, but his apartment was too far away and in no way in hell was he going to the manor, so he opted for the only other option he had.

Your place.

Now, you and him had been dating for quite some time, but he had never been to your apartment before. It was mainly to keep you out of harm's way, were someone to see a vigilante coming every night to your window and associating you with him.

The other reason was your cat, Norbert.

He had seen pictures and videos of him, but had been warned by every single one of your friends and apparently Dick as well, that he despised men.

Dick had learned it the hard way when he was passing throught your neighbourhood and saw you desperately trying to coax Norbert back into you apartment, since he somehow got himself on the fire escape and had no intention of budging.

Imagine your horror upon seeing Nighwing picking up your cat and trying to pet him and coo at him.

"Aw, what a cutie, what's his name-"

"Nighwing, no!-"

But it was too late: your cat had already scratched the man's cheek. Dick screamed as he let the cat go and almost tumbled over the fire escape. Now everytime somebody brought Norbert up in conversation, you could alway hear him cussing out your cat under his breath.

But Jason's mind was too far gone to fully underatnd what was happening, all he was thinking of was to get to shelter, to find a way not to bleed to death in the middle of the road, so up your building's fire escape he went.

He had made it to your window and knocked on it lighlty, knowing you'd be up reading a book before going to bed.

As if on cue, you arrived jogging with a toothbrush in your mouth, hastily sliding up your window upon seeing your boyfriend's doubled over figure.

"Oh my God, love, are you okay?" You hadn't spotted the gunshot yet, too preoccupied to bring his massive frame into your home.

"Hey, sweetheart," He said, taking his helmet off. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, a groan leaving his lips as he tried his best not to put his weight on the injured leg, "Sorry if this is the way I visit your place for the first time."

You gave him a worried look as you assessed the wound before running to the bathroom, getting rid of your toothbrush and pulling out the first aid kit. You thanked every entity in this universe for making you choose to go to medical school as you quickly returned to the living room, where you found Jason slumped against your coffee table.

You quickly began working on his leg, giving him a gauze to bite into.

"Tahnh yuh babh"

You tried to suppress a chuckle as you finished wrapping up his leg and gave him a glass of water and osme painkillers. You kissed his cheek, "No problem, love, I'm literally doing my job"

Jason gave you a lopsided grin both from pure exhaustion and sleepiness, and he felt his eyes begin to droop.

You shook him lightly, afraid to injure him further but definitely not wanting him to worsen his conditions.

"Hey, baby, you need to stay awake for me for a bit, yeah?"

"Mh-I knoww...I just-"

"Meow."

You stared at your boyfriedn with an horrified expression, eyes wide as your fingers grazed his bandages.

Jason seemed to have lost every single ounce of sleep in his body, matching your expression.

"Meow."

Uh oh.

"Don't move," you pleaded with him, taking his hands in yours, "I'll bring him here, just- holy cow!"

Just as you begun to turn, you spotted Norbert, your cat, in all his chunky orange glory, staring the two of you down - or better, zeroing in his amber eye on Jason, who for the first time that night, felt true fear.

"What do I do?" he whispered to you as he held eye contact with your cat, both of his hands tensing up under your grip.

You sighed, standing up, "Just stay there," then you went over Norbert and picked him up.

The feline instantly melted in your hold, purring slightly and nuzzling into you, but you could tell he wasn't fully calming down. He was still looking at Jason and his tail was swaying from side to side.

You just hoped you wouldn't have to stich Jason up again tonight.

You made your way over, taking small steps towards your boyfriend, who was still laying on the ground with a cautious look on his face.

"I made him smell some of your clothes the last few months," you started to explain, "and he even cuddled up to me in bed while i was wearing your hoodie, you know, the black Metallica one..." you took a few more steps, now directly in front of him.

You kneeled down, your arms tightening slightly around Norbert, "I really hope that did the trick,"

The cat sensed your nervousness and thinking it was due to Jason presence, hissed at him, swatting a clawed paw in his direction.

You closed your eyes, taking a big breath and trying to calm your nerves. This was a big deal for you and you cared bout both of them just as deeply, so you really hoped Norbert learned to accept Jason.

"Outstretch one of you hands towards him," you instructed Jason, "let him sniff you."

You loosened your grip on your cat and he jumped out of your arms, cautiosly making his way to Jason's hand. He let a low grumble as a warning, but upon sniffing his hand, he took a few momwnts to assess the situation. Nornert looked at you and you muttered a good boy to him, stroking his back in praise. He meowed and turned back to Jason, looking at him and then, and only then, he softly bumped his head on his hand, his fluffy tail up as Jason run his hand over his back. You both let out a relieved breath in unison, your shoulders visibly relaxing.

You watched the scene in awe, you eyes starting to well up with tears.

Jason sensed the mood switch and turned his head towards you. He was still smiling for not being smacked or bitten by your cat yet, so he scooted over, daring to do the impossible: hugging you in front of Norbert.

He had heard the stories: your guy friends and most importantly your ex boyfriend had tried to do so and had eneded up being chased around the house by a raging murderous orange ball of fur. They lived to tell the tale, but had since refused to step foot into your home ever again.

He hoped it would go differently for him.

Taking a leap of faith, he swung his arm around your shoulders, you thighs barely touching as his other hand cradled your chin.

"Hey," he looked into your eyes with worry, "you okay?"

You nodded with wide eyes, your left hand cupping his cheek with a relieved smile.

"Yeah, I'm happy he didn't attack you, it's all," you said but then your expression faltered as you heard another meow and saw Norbert staring menacingly at Jason's hand on your chin, then at Jason and then at the hand again.

He quickly dropped his hand and chuckled in apology, but you decided to see just how far you could push your luck and decided to pick Norbert up and place him onto your lap so he'd be between you two.

He unsurprisingly loafed up on you immediately and rested his chin on your right knree, staring up at the two of you.

"Try again, love," you said to Jason, who didn't need to be told twice as he eagerly tilted you chin up and leaned down for a searing kiss, his lips moulding against your own. You melted at the way his slightly chapped lips seemed to slot perfectly against yours, sighing in contemptment as your fingers twiddled witht the damp strands of hair that were stuck to his nape. You slightly tugged them and that earned you a mewl from Jason, the sound vibrating in your own mouth and making you smile in satisfaction.

Eventually pulling away to catch your breath, Jason chased your lips again but you playfully swatted his chest chuckling, "Don't push your luck, Jay. Norbert's patience runs out very quickly," you whispered as you looked down, petting the cat on your lap, "Aren't you a good boy, uh? Letting me kiss my boyfriend without drawing blood,"

Jason let out a whine, glaring at the cat and then making puppy eyes at you, "Wasn't I your good boy?"

"Jason, oh my god-"

[callahanisms]

all you need is more radaway

save a horse. ride a cowboy. ;)

anyways i really loved the tv show and i love the game. and ghouls are just chef's kiss. or maybe that's because i love monsters. sad that i finished it so quickly. :(

perhaps i can put what i learned in my western class to good use lol

character: cooper howard aka. the ghoul

it's never easy surviving the wasteland. you don't know how you managed to survive for this long. perhaps because you seemed to have been blessed with incredible luck.

and building up endurance, of course.

you felt little to no side effects from the radiation of the food you were eating. which just meant you had a lot of radaway and rad-x stocked up.

to make ends meet, though, you had to start hunting. scavenging and scrapping by wasn't enough. you needed the extra caps.

thus your rivalry with another bounty hunter was born.

"well, well. aren't you far from home, sweetheart?"

you were used to comments about your outfit. a vault suit. yes, you came from one. you had been exiled after your father was revealed to be managing the experiment behind it. the child pays for the sins of the father always.

"you're not the first and you won't be the last." you pull the head off the body as clean as possible.

"now i don't know if you should do that."

"and why not?"

a bullet flies past you and burrows itself into the ground. you finally look up. a cowboy hat. the face of a ghoul. his gun pointing right at you.

but you weren't afraid.

"because he's my target." he pulls out a piece of paper. "and he's mine."

"seems unfair if i did all the work. and you just collect his head and the prize." you pull out the same piece of paper. yours is a little more worn out though. and covered in dried blood.

"that's the way of the wasteland sweetheart."

"if you believe so."

your hands were fast. two bullets lodged into his right left and when he looks up, you're gone.

of course, you learned from the best: western holotapes. you really liked them when you were growing up. claimed to want to be a lone hero.

in some ways, you were. the wasteland was just a new version of the wild west, wasn't it?

"spaghetti? like...the pasta?"

more like spaghetti western. he knew that, of course. but no one in the wasteland knew what a spaghetti western was. they were remnants of a past long gone and one only accessible by holotapes in the vaults.

"that's their name." the person says. "why? you have business with them?"

"perhaps." the ghoul was looking to return a favor.

"don't even try. they're far more formidable than you think."

"we'll see about that."

your rivalry was an exchange of bullets, more often than not. thankfully, you always stocked up on bloodbags and could make a stimpack from your heavy (but useful) travel chemistry kit. you were smart like that.

surprisingly, it became something to look forward. mostly because the ghoul preferred if he tried killing you, so he managed to get you out of a tough situation by killing the other people trying to kill you.

and you returned the favor. there was something satisfying about lodging a bullet into him again.

unfortunately, this left you two stuck on a job once. captured by raiders. you had been knocked out with a drug. and he had collapsed from...something.

"fuck." you mutter, pulling at the ropes binding you. your luck had run out for the day it seems, because your arms were tied to the ghoul's around this godforsaken pole. the metal was also uncomfortably rubbing up against your skin.

"you got a knife or anything sharp?" he looks over at you. it's rare to see him without his cowboy hat. his head was rather smooth.

you chuckle a little.

"something funny?" the ghoul asks.

"nothing. you're just...shaped like an egg."

"very funny."

"let me guess. your answer is no?"

"i don't have a knife up my sleeve, sadly. think they took it."

"shame." the ghoul shimmies something out of his own sleeve. he flicks the blade out and begins sawing at the rope. "watch your fingers."

you keep your fingers tucked in. eventually, the rope on your wrists comes undone and one arm soon after. the rest comes off and you rub your skin. "fuck these guys. always hated raiders."

"well, we both got sold out. we need to find that thing now. or else we'll be dead by sunrise." he tugs on the door of the jail cell and clicks his tongue.

"i don't have sharp objects. but i do have these." you pull out the bobby pin taped on the inside of your sleeve, alongside a mini screwdriver.

the lock wasn't very complicated, so you picked it with ease.

as you both are grabbing your equipment, you hear footsteps up above. light ones and heavier ones. and the sound of a muffled, altered, robotic voice.

the brotherhood of steel was worse than raiders, honestly.

"you go left, i go right. how does that sound?"

"i don't usually like taking orders from my rivals." he reloads his gun. "but for you? sure."

the event left the both of you soaked in the blood of your enemies. on the other hand, you guys left with plenty of loot and an idea of where your target was: dead. at the bottom of a lake.

it was a journey to get there, wherein you learned the details of each other's lives. you didn't think he was paying much attention to your sentences. after all, you came from a vault.

and yet, you saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

he seemed less keen on sharing details about his life, aside from his former name. cooper howard.

undeniably, as a fan of westerns, you recognized his names. from the holotapes.

"they had those?" cooper shakes his head, taking sips of water. "no way."

"yes way! it's where i learned to shoot."

"from watching my movies?"

"yes!"

"that is...a pleasant surprise." cooper leans back.

"that also makes you over 200 years old."

"that it does. something wrong with that?"

"no. the wasteland changes people." you maintain your attention to your suit, sewing a tear up. "just...you're looking for something, aren't you? everyone's always looking for something up here."

"are you looking for something?" his voice hardens and he sits up straight.

"i was. and then i found it. and i stopped." you tie the thread to seal the stitch and then tear the thread with your teeth. "i hope you find what you're looking for though."

"well, that's awfully kind of you, sweetheart."

"i have a name, you know."

"what is it?"

"(y/n)."

getting personal in the wasteland was something cooper wasn't adamant about. but the circumstances seems to call for it.

"guess we're even now."

the body of water was daunting. it was murky and dark. you pursed your lips and dumped your bag. "well. guess we have no choice."

cooper looks over at you then quickly turns around when he sees what you're doing: taking off your suit and going down to your underwear. "what are you doing?"

"i'm going to go get that head. that's how we get paid, right? easy three thousand caps. 15 hundred split evenly." you stretch.

"i think you might die."

"i'll be fine. i've done it before." Aquaperson perk.

"i can also swim, you know."

"i'll be fine cooper." you pop a rad-x pill just in case. "be back in a bit."

you dive like a swan, making minimal splash into the water. your form disappears beneath the darkness.

you're gone beneath the water for over an hour. cooper's heart was beating against his rib cage. you should be out by now. it should not be that hard. did something get you? things lurked beneath the murky waters always.

"fuck!"

he drops his equipment and begins stripping down, until he is just in his pants. he would need to dive after you. if you were dead, then so be it. it was fun while it lasted.

suddenly, you emerge. you take in the oxygen of the surface and hold the head up high. "got 'em." you swim over to the shore and walk out of the water.

there was something about how...wet you were that got him feeling hot and bothered.

"something happen down there?"

"couple of mirelurks. no big deal. which reminds me." you set the head on the ground and go back into the water. within minutes, you're pulling out the bodies of the mirelurks you had killed. "dinner."

while cutting the mirelurks open, you observe the way he walks around you. his muscles bulging a little as he cuts a mirelurk open and takes the meat. he was kind of...attractive?

"were you going to come after me?" he stops cutting hearing your question. "in the water, i mean."

"so what if i did?" cooper averts his eyes.

"that's sweet of you. i didn't know you had a soft spot for me."

"i don't."

"sure." you can tell he was lying through his teeth.

dinner was a nice, cozy meal. it was delicious. a nice surprise considering the nature of the wasteland.

cooper notices the way you're looking at him. and he looks at you the same way.

though how does this work exactly?

"do you want to..." you try to find a decent way to say this. fuck is a good term. but it felt a little vulgar in the moment.

cooper already knows what you're asking. "absolutely. if you can handle it." he smirks.

it's so cute when he smirks.

you glance over at your bag, looking at your stash of radaway. you had plenty. plus your stash of rad-x too.

"i absolutely can."

[asiatic-apple]

If requests are open, maybe some fluff with a fem reader with caleb please? go any way you please, and ty

Thanks for the req, nonnie! I was so excited to make my own choice for this one. Prompt #17 reminded me of when he notices a small cut on MC’s hand by stalking her Moment posts lolll—so I wanted to write something comical in the same vein. Hope you enjoy!

Last chance to send a request!

Playing doctor

Caleb x female reader

Prompt: carefully bandaging the other’s wounds, even if it’s just a tiny cut

Content: a little bit suggestive…especially at the end, caleb is such a mother hen, possessive!caleb

You’re sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, your back against the couch, surrounded by the chaos of tiny plastic parts and instruction booklets. Caleb’s plane model kit has taken over the entire area in front of the coffee table.

The glossy box it came in promised “historically accurate parts and museum-quality realism.” What it didn’t mention was that building it would feel like doing surgery with tweezers and a prayer.

While you carefully sort dozens—or maybe hundreds—of parts into organized piles, Caleb lounges beside you on the carpet, elbows propped on the table.

Excitement radiates off him like heat. He’s been infodumping about fighter jets for the past thirty minutes straight. And honestly, you’re enjoying it. His voice pitches higher when he’s animated, and his hand gestures get wilder the longer he explains the mechanics of wing flaps and thrust ratios.

He’s so adorable that your teeth ache. Something else, much lower in your body, aches too. But you try to ignore it for now. You’re barely looking down at the pieces in your hands anymore, too enamored by how passionate he is.

“And the thing about the intake valves,” Caleb says, flipping the instruction manual around to point out a diagram like it’s a national treasure, “is that most people don’t realize the way they rerouted airflow in this design actually boosted acceleration by–”

He gasps, loud and sharp, his face stricken in horror.

You glance down at the model parts in your hands, panic spiking. Surely you didn’t break something. There was no snapping sound, no loose plastic. Everything looks intact.

“What? What did I do?” you ask quickly, heart in your throat.

His large hands gently engulf yours, forcing you to drop the parts onto the floor as he peers down at your fingers with the intensity of a man defusing a bomb.

“Pip-squeak,” he scolds softly, brows drawn. “I told you to be careful.”

“Huh? I was being careful. I didn’t break–"

“The wingtips are sharp.” His voice is low and reminiscent of when he’s reprimanding his subordinates at the Fleet. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

You frown, examining your hand. There’s no blood. No scratch. Nothing.

But then he presses lightly on the pad of your pointer finger, and a faint sting blooms. One single drop of blood beads up at the tip like it had to fight hard to exist. You’re not even sure how he noticed something so miniscule before you registered the cut.

Caleb inhales like you’ve been shot.

You scoff. “You’re kidding, right?”

He is not.

Before you can protest, he drags you down the hall, mumbling about risk of infection and tissue trauma like you’ve barely survived a Wanderer ambush.

You don’t resist him tugging you toward the bathroom. Not because you agree with him, but because you’ve learned there’s no reasoning with him when you’re hurt. Even slightly hurt.

But growing up with him made you stubborn. And you like to push his buttons.

“Caleb,” you whine dramatically, “it’s literally a paper cut. I’ll be fine.”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ in that insufferably cute way of his. “It’s plastic. Which makes it worse than a paper cut.”

You snort as he pulls out the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet like a man preparing for battlefield surgery. With the help of his Evol, you’re deposited on top of the bathroom counter while he digs through antiseptics and gauze with military precision.

“Uh huh, and is that your professional diagnosis?” you tease.

“It is,” he counters, holding up the antiseptic like it’s holy water. “You’re bleeding. And I’m not risking it getting infected. Not on my watch.”

You bite your tongue instead of pointing out how annoying or stifling his overprotectiveness can be sometimes. Mirth flickers in your eyes while you watch him gently dab a cotton round with antiseptic before hovering it over your finger.

“Sorry, pips. This might sting.”

You grin and hiss dramatically as soon as it touches your skin. “Oh god…the pain!”

He hums sympathetically, his lips twitching with a smile. “Shh, I know. It’s okay. Doctor Caleb’s here.”

He is such an ass sometimes. But you snicker anyway. “You know you’re insane, right?” you mutter, sticking your tongue out at the overbearing doctor.

He wraps your finger with one of the ridiculous smiley-face band-aids he likes to keep around for “emergencies.”

“Yeah. Insanely in love with you,” he retorts, kissing your bandaged finger with a proud little grin.

God, he’s insufferable. And you stupidly love him anyway.

You jump down from the counter and let him take your good hand before leading him back toward the living room.

“Come on, Doctor Caleb,” you deadpan. “Your patient still has a jet to build with you.”

“As long as you promise to let me handle the sharp parts,” he mutters, shooting the scattered pieces a distrustful look when you enter the living room again.

“No promises.”

He sighs heavily. “Then I’m saving the kit for later and wrapping both your hands in gauze.”

To prove his point, he grips both your wrists, locking them against his chest while you laugh and try to escape. He tugs you closer, the look in his eyes becoming a bit darker once you’re close enough for his lips to brush your temple.

“You should listen to your doctor.” His voice is lower, a delicious-sounding threat edged in his words. “I’m the only one who knows what he’s talkin’ about,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, confused for half a second—until you remember Zayne. The actual licensed doctor who’s patched you up on more than one occasion. Who Caleb wishes you didn’t have to see anymore.

You smirk, deciding to play along. “But Doctor Caleb forgot something important,” you whisper, running your bandaged finger down his chest. “You didn’t prescribe any medicine for the pain.”

His brows arch, curiosity and heat mixing in his gaze.

You lean in just a little closer, your voice dropping to a teasing purr. “And I was such a good little trooper, helping you with your model kit all afternoon. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

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dividers by @/sister-lucifer

[literaryvein-reblogs]

When your Character Needs Outdoor Survival Skills

Knowledge of outdoor survival techniques can improve your chances of making it through a life-or-death situation. Examples include knowing how to make a shelter, forage for edible plants, find water, and build a fire.

Consider these essential survival skills to improve your chances of success in the wilderness:

Build a fire. Use dry leaves, pine needles, or small pieces of wood to start a fire that can enable you to cook a meal, stay warm, or ward off wild animals from your shelter site. Use waterproof matches or a firestarter to spark tinder and kindling.

Craft a short-term survival shelter. Depending on the climate, weather, terrain, and available resources, you might want to construct a temporary refuge to shield you from the elements until you encounter your rescuers. You should insulate your shelter to help you retain valuable body heat in cold weather or provide sun protection to minimize your dehydration in a hot, arid climate.

Establish a hierarchy of priorities. A stranded hiker or someone forced into a survival scenario should work diligently to address the “rule of threes”: The average human can survive three hours without shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. These timelines are somewhat subjective to the individual and the climate, yet the rule of threes can provide a template to guide actions in the field.

Find a clean water source. A human can survive only about three days without water, so finding and collecting drinking water should be one of your priorities in a survival scenario. Use a water filter, iodine tablets, or a fire to boil the water. However you choose to purify water, it’s imperative to do it in adequate amounts to meet your hydration needs.

Locate a food source. Gather surplus supplies when possible and diversify your diet as much as you can to provide your body with essential protein, fats, vitamins, and minerals. Forage for edible flowers, roots, and mushrooms; use natural materials to build snares for small game; or craft fishing tools to catch fish.

Practice excellent hygiene. Bacteria, parasites, and pathogens can enter the body through food and open wounds. Practicing cleanliness and good hygiene will reduce your chance of succumbing to an illness. Remaining healthy is crucial since even a few days of bed rest could reduce your chances of survival and quickly deplete your resources.

Stay calm and assess the situation. The most important survival tool you have at your disposal is your mind. When you find yourself in a life-or-death survival situation, the amygdala of the human brain will pump the body full of stress hormones to trigger a fight-or-flight response. Counter your instincts by taking a moment to collect your thoughts—this will help you eliminate unnecessary risks and minimize your energy expenditure until you have a solid plan in place. Remaining calm is a must since avoidable mistakes can be lethal, especially in the wilderness.

Signal nearby search and rescue teams. Use visual and auditory signals like mirrors, whistles, and smoke to attract the attention of rescuers and notify them of your location for evacuation. Keep a solar battery charger for your cell phone in your survival kit to keep you connected—especially if traveling alone.

Test your bushcraft skills before you need them. You might already know how to navigate by the North Star or tie a bowline knot, but you should run a preparedness drill to test your skills in realistic scenarios. Knowledge is essential, but practice can help you determine your strengths and weaknesses so that you can ultimately improve.

Use everything at your disposal. A survivor must pack light and move quickly, making it necessary to collect water and food while on the go and carry multipurpose items worth their weight in utility. For example, a stranded backpacker might not have a manufactured first aid kit or bug-out bag from which they can draw any necessary tools or materials to survive comfortably. Instances like these require ingenuity and good problem-solving skills. For example, a plastic bag, a length of paracord, and a supply of duct tape could become the primary elements of a shelter that shields you from the wind and rain.

To test yourself, practice hard skills under circumstances that reflect the challenges you might face in the field.

Mental conditioning, a positive attitude, and creative problem-solving skills also make an impact.

Consistent practice and improvement will boost your confidence so that you can remain resilient in the face of adversity.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[official-cvntified-gay]

wrong questions

pairing: natalie rushman x new journalist reader

genre: fluffity fluff

wc: 1k+

note: her as natalie was so hmdkudkydtj, i've been awake for 24 hours so here's this. also how is this my first time writing for natasha?!?

You’ve been rejected before.

But not like this.

“Mr. Stark is unfortunately unavailable for interviews,” Natalie Rushman says, again, without even glancing up from her tablet.

You grip your notebook tighter. “It doesn’t even have to be a formal sit-down. Just a quote. A soundbite. One sentence about his clean energy initiative. I’ll take a syllable at this point.” desperate for something to kickstart your career.

Her red hair is pulled back into a perfect twist. Her blouse is tailored, her heels are weaponized, and her voice is smooth as the floor she’s making you walk in circles on.

Natalie finally looks up—green eyes locking with yours, faint amusement in her smile.

“Persistent.”

“Determined,” you correct.

“Stubborn,” she counters, then tilts her head. “Cute.”

Your heart stutters. You pretend it doesn’t.

“I’m trying to be professional,” you mutter.

“And failing,” she says, stepping closer. “But in a very charming way.”

You open your mouth to respond—maybe to protest, maybe to flirt back—but she’s already turned away, back to the tablet.

“Try again tomorrow,” she adds over her shoulder. “If you survive the security screening.”

Taking that as a challenge. You bribe the front desk with coffee. You sneak past Happy. You even get close enough to see Tony Stark’s reflection in a hallway mirror before a hand grabs your elbow.

“Someone’s going to think you’re spying,” Natalie says.

You try to look confident, despite being caught red-handed. “I’m not a spy.”

“Good,” she says, circling you. “You’d be terrible at it. Too honest.”

You frown. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“It’s a compliment.” Her voice drops a little. “People like you don’t lie well. That’s rare around here.”

You’re about to ask what she lies about—but her phone buzzes, and just like that, she’s gone again.

The next time, you come with a new plan: don’t ask about Tony. Ask about her.

“Why’d you choose PR?”

Natalie pauses. “What makes you think I did?”

“I’ve seen the way you run this place. You’re not here for press kits.”

Her lips twitch. “What am I here for?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

She leans forward on her desk, chin resting on one hand, and studies you like she’s deciding whether to swat you away or let you in.

“Maybe you’re finally asking the right questions,” she murmurs.

A few days later

You don’t even pretend it’s about Tony anymore.

Natalie meets you outside the building this time, already holding your coffee order. You never told her what it was.

“I could get used to this,” you say, taking it.

“The coffee?”

“You.”

She raises an eyebrow, but there’s a flush to her cheeks this time. “Careful. Flattery gets you interrogated.”

“Not dinner?”

“Depends on your answers.”

A few days again

It’s late. Everyone else is gone. Somehow, you’re still in Stark Tower. Somehow, you’re in Natalie Rushman’s office.

Somehow, you’re sitting beside her, barely breathing.

“You never cared about Stark,” she says.

You shake your head. “Not after the first day.”

“Why keep coming back?”

You don’t answer.

She reaches out, brushes her fingers against your jaw. “You’re not afraid of me.”

“I probably should be.”

“You probably should.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then you whisper, “But I don’t think you’re who you say you are.”

She laughs softly. Not denying it.

“You’re smart,” she says. “Dangerous.”

You blink. “Dangerous?”

“For someone who asks the right questions.”

Then she leans in—and this time, when she kisses you, there’s no more pretending it’s part of the game.

Later, when you’re lying on her couch, heart racing, her voice floats softly:

“You wanted a quote from Tony Stark,” she murmurs. “But you got something better.”

“Yeah?”

You smile.

“I got the story no one else did.”

Natalie smiles back.

“You got me—and that’s classified.”

[redamoureux]

Can i request some tf2 headcanons of some of the mercenary boys (it can be anyone i dont mind and i honestly have a hard time pick also i dont know if you have a character limit)developing a crush on someone from the enemy team(reader), who found the respective merc injured in a corner, and instead of finishing them off they hand the merc a nearby health kit and just tell them to be safe before running away. Hopefully that's something you'll do and thanks for letting me request! I really like your writing style and your little art doodles are always a pleasure to see!! Thanks again byebye hope you have a good day!

╰﹒ARE YOU FALLING IN LOVE?

General Red/Blu Engineer, Sniper, Spy headcanons/short

• genre: romantic

• a/n: Hey! Sorry for the super late answer- this was just kinda stuck in my draft so sorry for that! ( >_<) Also, glad to hear you enjoy my doodles :) also i like your idea, it actually reminds me alot of how i potray my verison of reader so that may have made me a little carried away while writing this- And yeah, i apologize if my rules aren't very clear, the character limits are around 3-4!

Engineer

Dang nabbit!

That stupid snake spy was up to it again. Sapping his buildings and hiding like a coward. A few fragments of the broken sentry manage to crash on his leg when he tried to fix it but it suddenly exploded likely due to misconception in the system.

Engineer groaned as he try to remove the metal off him which only resulted more pain to his crushed leg. Earlier on, the spy was able to land a few shots which he was able to barely survive from by pretending to be dead.

He was seriously going to get back at him at the next round. He vowed and began forming some sinistrous plans mentally as he still tried getting back up again.

As he looked around the surroundings, his eyes snapped to the health kit nearby. He knew it's hopeless at this point, but he tried just once again to reach it.

Suddenly, the sounds of distant shouting caught his attention. He looked at the corner where the noise was coming from and froze, hearing footsteps and a shadow coming closer to where he is.

Engineer could only stare, taking out his pistol and ready to give his best.

He was about to shoot when he sees your head peeking out the corner and the two of you lock eyes.

You gasped faintly, retreating back your head again, making engineer drop his gun down a little. For a while he only observes, expecting you to pop out again and this time with a weapon.

To his surprise however, you only slowly came closer with your medi-gun and stood infront of him, this made him distracted and you looked to the side seeing the health kit. He also look at the direction you were looking and then you two look back at each other.

You walked towards the kit and picked it up and came close to him as he watches closely, loosely letting the pistol down. You kneel down beside him and handed him the health kit, to which he can only gawk at for a moment before accepting it. You then peer at the metal scrap crushing his leg and motion to him to push it off while you try to lift it up.

At last, with some struggle, you succesfully were able to remove the scrap off.

He thanked you, feeling certainly grateful for your aid. You only smiled and nodded making engineer blush. Then you stood back up, picking your medi gun and gave him a final glance and a wave on your way back to outside.

He can only gaze at your frame leaving, still blushing and thinking about what just happened even while fixing himself up.

Sniper

Ah, piss.

Sniper was so close on pulling the trigger on a enemy's head when he just had to be shot a few times near his chest and shoulder by another sniper.

Now he's currently sitting on the floor, unable to really move due to his wounds. The medic is obviously too busy and far from his spot so all he could do for now is keeping his guards up while trying to ease the pain with some bandages he had.

As he's paying close attention to the ongoing battle, His eyes landed on you emerging from behind a rock, healing your team's scout with your medigun while charging forward.

Now his interest shifted from the enemy's fighting to just paying attention to you instead. He'd seen you time to time through the scope but usually you'd stay behind as extra help. He wasn't sure why sometimes when he aims for you, he'd hesitated. It's almost somewhat wrong.

His thoughts were interrupted by the stinging pain in his shoulder as he groan and lean closer to the wooden window. Suddenly your team soldier's shout rang aloud alerting about his presence.

Sniper panicked as he push himself far away from the wooden window, hearing fast footsteps rapidly approaching his spot. He took his kukri and prepare himself to fight.

Shortly to his surprise though, only you were the one who came. He was really close to attacking─ yet there it is again. The odd hesitating feeling. While being confused with his own choices, you took the medkit you found just outside and offered it to him. While you only smile, sniper is left dumbfound. By the fact that you're not trying to kill him here and there, but also because he did not notice there was even a health kit literally sitting feets away from him.

As he took the kit from you to heal himself, you also proceed to use your medigun to slightly fasten his healing process before you hear your name being called. You call back to them, confirming that you're okay. You gave him a wave and a warm smile before you quickly ran out to your team.

Sniper only sat down there at one of the crate boxes as he proceed the aimless thoughts in his mind about this encounter with you. Well, atleast now it seems like he knows the reason why he's so hesitant to hurt you.

Spy

Oh it's just perfect.

Spy sighs deeply in annoyance as he sat down in a corner with his burnt leg, arm and wounded stomach. His broken Invisibility watch in his hand as his attempts on turning it back on didn't work as it only let out a few sharp electric sparkings.

Great. His invis watch is broken and he is still in the enemy's section with the high possibility that anyone could easily figure out where he is. He feels oddly dreadful about this whole situation as he imagined the worst scenario that could happen in his mind.

It was all oddly quiet at first before he heard a few distinct voices and footsteps passing by. He tries to focus more on where the steps are heading to so he could escape before they caught him first.

He feels rather confused and irritated by the random noises and constant back and forth steps, combined with the pain he's feeling makes him want to just scream but he holds back. He takes deep breath and stood up and accidently hitting his wounded arm which he let out a yelp before he shuts himself up.

It was too late though. He heard some yelling and a brief talk before he hears footsteps once again. He tries to get away but it seems like he was not fast enough as by then, you appeared by the entrance.

You two stared at each other for a moment before he took out his revolver and aim it at you, but you quickly shot it away with your syringe gun.

Spy only looked at his hand then at you in shock. And he realizes that he's basically helpless at the hands of the enemy now.

So close to accepting this defeat, he stumble back and sat down with a tired and dejected look, closing his eyes.

Instead of a quick shot in the head, he felt something being dropped on his lap and a sudden soothing sensation enveloping his body. Confused, spy opens his eyes to see you standing infront of him, using your medigun on him and a healthkit on his lap. He's left baffled by this and was about to ask just what you were doing but you only shush him by nodding softly.

So the two of you only settled in silent as your medigun continue to help speeding up the process. He decided to take out another cigarette, placing it in his mouth and was about to light it up, but he wasn't able to find his lighter anywhere. Just then a lighter reached near his face and lighten the cigarette up for him. Your face was close to his, with the flame illuminating the small details on your face as he stares at you with wide eyes.

Even when you pulled away, spy was still stuck in daze for a moment before he blushes in embarrassment at the gesture. Thankfully you weren't able to see his face with that mask.

He cleared his throat and thanked you in an almost sheepish manner and you smiled in return, giving him a thumbs up. Then you used your syringe gun and shoot at one of the empty bottle laying around before you wink and walked out hurridly.

REBLOGS/ FEEDBACK/ COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED!

@redamoureux

[meathunt]

Alien yan idea

This story has been brought to you all by inspo from Chaos's Arkuma oc and also the though of "Human spacecrafts are the equivalent of a cardboard box to aliens" Hope yall enjoy! ---

Your fist slammed against the control panel.

The escape pod that you were shoved in was malfunctioning, you bet that your luck is so great that the madman that decided that blowing up the main ship was their God given task was throughout enough that they most likely messed with the pods to ensure they took everyone down with them.

You were fortunate enough that when your boss decided to drag you into the pod he gave you a very generous emergency package, med kit, tools and both food and water rations that would suffice for months if you measured yourself.

The first weeks you were hopeful that you would receive some response to the distress signal you were sending, but as the time passed you hope slowly diminished. And when the alerts of malfunctions started to pop up you felt even more hopeless. You didn’t want to give up, for the people that were waiting for you, and for the people that helped you get out of the station you will survive. ---

Oyrehn was overlooking the work of his crew, checking up on the borders of their territory, and as one of the most renown captains of his organization he took pride on doing a flawless job.

That being said it still was mind numbing work, after all this part of the territory was most times completely unremarkable at best, it was a space dumpster if you will, filled mostly with space debris and the occasional smartass that thought could use it as a secret road only to end up needing help to get out of the occasional meteor rain.

So when he noticed an out of place shinny object he took the initiative on looking deeper into it. Setting the computer to analyze it, the results that the computer gave him took him by surprise.

A human? So far out on here?

Humans were a bit of a hot topic around the network, they were a new found species still a bit archaic in terms of technology, but their biology was the most interesting of all. No claws or fangs, no external carapace or protection, just squishy soft creatures that don't grow taller than most their hips. Their survival has been credited to their ingenuity and mostly straight up luck and chance.

Things that make them very interesting creatures, and in some cases sought out creatures. As they have been rumored to be living lucky charms.

He is one of the ton of interested aliens in humans, but not exactly because he believes in those rumors, but because he is enamored with how soft you all look, warm blooded beings that are moved by curiosity and motivation, how is he supposed to not gush over you all?

But the thing is that, you are in no level to be able to explore space safely, much less survive or thrive in this environment.

With that thought in mind he gave the order to catch and bring your ship aboard, and that he will deal with the issue at hand. ---

You felt the pod shake before being able to register that you were moving, indicating that something was very wrong.

The sudden movement waking you fully, you were going to check the system to see what the fuck went wrong now when you saw it.

A behemoth of a space ship that was slowly getting closer. You wanted to believe that somehow this was a rescue crew that came for you.

But you couldn’t trick yourself, you knew the team had nothing of this magnitude and the closer you got you could notice just how big it really was. No human could build something like that without it being public knowledge.

As you felt your ship touch ground and noise outside of the pod filled your ears your only thought was how did you end up here?

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Could I please request Harley Sawyer x reader who has their periods (heavy flow and painful cramps to the MAX to the point the can't even stand cause I'm literally doing the itadori pose on the floor bawling my eyes out.) ily and ur writing so much! Sending love🫶

Harley Sawyer x You – Dealing with Extreme Period Pain

Harley isn’t good with emotions, but pain? Pain he understands. And when it’s your pain? Yeah—he’s not about to just stand by and do nothing.

🖤 His Initial Reaction 🖤

The first time he sees you curled up, barely able to move, face twisted in pain?

He assumes it’s something serious. Something he needs to fix.

"What the hell’s wrong?" His voice is sharp, but his eyes are scanning you for injuries.

When you mumble out “It’s just my period”, he just stares for a second—processing.

He’s quiet, unreadable. Then:

"…That’s it?"

Not dismissing your pain—just shocked that something so common can knock you out like this.

🖤 Once He Gets It 🖤

Harley doesn’t pity. He solves. If this is something that happens monthly, he’s making sure you’re prepared.

Painkillers? Done. He stocks them up like he’s building a survival kit.

Hot water bottles? Heating pads? You didn’t even ask, but he’s already handed one to you without a word.

Carrying you if needed? He doesn’t hesitate. You’re too weak to stand? Fine. He picks you up like it’s nothing.

"Not dealing with you collapsing. Just shut up and hold on."

Silent but deadly levels of care. He won’t say "Are you okay?" ten times, but he notices everything.

Grimaces when you shift wrong? He’s already adjusting your pillows.

Winces when you try to sit up? His hand is already at your back, steadying you.

Can’t eat? He figures out something light and easy for you—won’t admit he looked it up.

🖤 Protective Mode: Activated 🖤

Someone tries to make a snide comment about you being “dramatic” about it?

Harley’s death glare alone could kill.

"Say that again. No—go ahead." Voice calm, but dangerous.

If he can remove stressors, he will.

You got work? Not anymore—you’re “suddenly unavailable.” Don’t ask how.

Need silence? He makes sure no one disturbs you.

If you’re too stubborn to rest, his patience snaps:

“You wanna be miserable? Fine. But you’re not doing it on my watch. Lie the hell down.”

🖤 The Quiet Affection 🖤

He’s not the type for soft words, but he is the type to sit there, quietly, until you fall asleep.

His hand? Might not hold yours, but it’ll rest on your leg or back, a grounding touch.

His voice? A low, steady hum if you need background noise. Maybe reading something aloud, pretending it’s for himself.

And when it’s finally over—when the worst of it passes?

He just exhales, looks at you, and mutters,

"’Bout damn time."

But there’s relief in his tone. Like he felt every hour of your suffering with you.

💀 If You Ever Make a Joke About It 💀

"Ugh, I think my uterus is trying to kill me."

Harley, completely serious:

"You need it removed?"

"…What."

"If it’s trying to kill you, get rid of it."

"That’s—That’s not how it works, Harley."

Grunts. But you know he was actually considering it.

Harley might not be gentle, but when it comes to you? He makes damn sure you’re taken care of.