#asked and answered 317

[away-ward]

i just finished the dn series and i have some conflicting thoughts...

Hey, do you think will would cut off any ties damon, alex, michael, kai, rika, banks and winter for emmy if she asked? I really wanna believe this, but i dont get this vibe from him, which might be why i found his arc so unsatisfying. Now the least expected horseman was the one who surprised me when he pulled this move, michael. I only got this will-cut-everyone-off-for-my-soulmate-even-bff vibe from michael, and not even damon got this vibe. Sometimes i'm confused if he would save and choose winter or will first, and that dampens my ship for them. I hate non-poly relationship that's so poly coded only for the author to choose a non-poly ending between a man and a woman. Feels so?? Questionable. Now, Kai? even less so. If i have to rank, michael > damon / will > kai.

What do you think? Like at this point only words can reassure us that yea yea yea, ofc they would choose their women before anything else, but would they really? i am haunted by the idea that will would actually cut emmy off instead off cutiing alex or damon from his life and this thought would not leave my head. Why did we never see will address his relationship and past and emmy talking about her hard boundaries and how uncomfy his past made her feel? She was so uncomfy throughoug the book, she made ME feel uncomfy too. But suddenly she fucked alex? What?

I am not convinced that will, or any of the horsemen would choose their women first, and this lack of a firm HEA was what made me not able to enjoy devils night series as a whole 😭 i didnt feel liek this when i read other dark romance series, like the l.o.r.d.s. because it was clear to me that each couple were ONLY made for each other. i've also been spoiled by contemporary romances that have HEA endings for hears, that when i did read dn, i was like? Huh? That was it? And just like the previous anon, i found myself asking, why is this alex still here? Why was emmy's ending like that? Why was winter's man looking like he's pining for his bff or wanting to jump into a poly relay? Will winter have to share him? Why was banks' man checking out rika? Why was there still tension between them in conclave? Why was rika's man like THAT? But ngl, by the end of fire night, i dont get these vibes from michael, which was surprising because he's the least fav of the series... I feel so bad for these fmcs, but then they're just fictional characters, and they also choose to be in relationships with these mmcs themselves, so what was even the point of my worry? Ahhg! Idkidk

Side note, damon's book felt so unromantic to me because of this, and i wished winter had a better storyline and love story where her man was just focusing on her and not trying to bring eberyone in their relationship, like arion, banks, rika, will etc. I can't stand kill switch because of that. Felt like damon was cheatinh on her throughout the whole book. I hate it when mmc have other thoughts about OW, which was why i also didnt like will and kai as much. In nightfall, i knew because pd fucked up with the plot and characters, but i didnt feel like pd f up kill switch, but damon's character in general felt really unromantic for a dark erotica/ romance hero whoks supposed to be possessive obsessive non-sharing heroes, like the rina kent, hd carlton, shantel tessier, emily mcintire heroes. i cant root for him or the mmcs of this series because of that 🫠 os this just a pd thing or something? Should i be prepared with the element of sharing in her books? unpopular opinion, i was rooting for ethan in kill switch, lmao, but ofc!!! Pd just had to ruin his character by making him a creep, even though damon himself was a certified sexual assaulter and criminal 🙄 how convenient!

idkkkkk

do you think will would cut off any ties damon, alex, michael, kai, rika, banks and winter for emmy if she asked?

If she asked on a random Tuesday at the bar?

No.

There would have to be something happening that’s caused her to make that demand. Like. . . it can’t just be like the worm test, you know? “Would you still love you me if I were a worm?” / “Would you leave your chosen family for me if I asked?”

He'd be like, Emmy, shut up, drink your drink, and stop coming up with make believe scenarios (They'd banter about it for hours, though).

But if there was a legit reason she was asking, I think Will is more than likely to take Emory’s side. Emory doesn’t typically make a big deal out of small things, so if she’s making a big deal out of something, it’s actually huge. Along with that, he knows how it is to be without her, and I can't see him going back to that again. Not willingly. He needs to be the one she holds on to. He's never served that purpose for anyone else.

As an example, the Damon and Emory at the gazebo scene: Emory says she has to tell Will what happened the night she helped him bury Natalya, and Damon response that Will’s going to kill him (or something like that). It’s clear that this issue isn’t even that big of an issue anymore, but the very fact that Damon put Emory at risk years ago is still enough to piss Will off.

Unless she gets brainwashed or otherwise manipulated into betraying them, Will is always going to choose Emory over them. Just because we didn’t get the scene doesn’t mean there isn’t a “She is everything” moment. Although, depending on how you look at it, the fact that Will was down bad (crying at the gym🎶🎶) for literally all of the series because he didn’t have Emory sort of indicates who he’s capable of living without. It was kind of a silent "she is everything".

i am haunted by the idea that will would actually cut emmy off instead off cutiing alex or damon from his life and this thought would not leave my head. Why did we never see will address his relationship and past and emmy talking about her hard boundaries and how uncomfy his past made her feel?

If you’re haunted about it, I can’t help you. I’m just words on a screen, after all.

It's an assumption that Emory still feels uncomfortable about Will’s past after she “comes into her own” on the train. You can see the train scene however you want – I personally detest it, and feel there were much better ways to communicate whatever Emory was supposed to be going through at the moment. However, I think it's pretty clear the scene was supposed to mark a change within Emory. Would a conversation between the two of them been more satisfying for readers? Probably. Was it something that the characters needed though? Was it something that Emory needed? I don't think so.

I see Emory no longer caring that he’s been “on top of half the graduating class”, or ever thinking that he’ll leave her for Alex in a heartbeat. These things just don’t matter anymore. They’re small issues that she has the confidence to handle if they come up, but she’s not going to waste her time worrying about them. Not when she as a life to live, finally being happy with Will.

The reason I think this is partly because those things happened between Rika and Michael. Rika had to have the “You won’t be sleeping with anyone else, right?” talk with Michael, which he didn’t answer because he was fully planning on sleeping with other girls while waiting for her to grow up. Again later, she had to tell him she doesn’t like being followed, or told where to go, or that she’s expected to stay home, waiting for him to come back.

Will isn’t Michael, though. And he made clear that if she gave him half a chance, he was going to be exclusive. That’s what he wanted. Additional, Will doesn’t have any expectations of Emory’s behavior, other than she's exclusive to him as well (you'll be the mother to my children, sit at my table, warm my bed - but of course, this is also where he wants to be: the father to her children, giving her a home to live in, being in her bed). She runs this show, and he loves that. More importantly, she knows that. All he expects of her is to be happy.

At the same time, we got the "She is everything" scene from Michael because there was miscommunication between him and Kai. I don't think there's any confusion from the guys what position she takes in Will's life by the time Will and Emory are married. As long as she let's him stay, she'll be number one.

But, of course, I'm used to shipping couples that were never canon, so then maybe I'm off in an OTP happiness bubble.

but i didnt feel like pd f up kill switch, but damon's character in general felt really unromantic for a dark erotica/ romance hero whoks supposed to be possessive obsessive non-sharing heroes,

I think this may be the issue some readers are having. Because what do you mean “non-sharing”? There was never the promise of no-sharing at any part of DN. Every book had sharing. Every book was going to have sharing, regardless if it fit into the plot or not.

And while I don’t consider the rikamichaelkaibanks bonus scene to be canon because PD didn’t even really write it, they just thought about it, it’s a clear indicator that whatever poly situation they’ve got going on is something the characters enjoy. If you don’t enjoy it as a reader, that’s one thing, but it’s not the author’s responsibility to write something you enjoy. The main responsibilty an author has is to write something that's true to them. And edit. Please, edit.

And I don’t say all this to mean that you’re wrong in any way.

DN doesn’t follow a lot of the trends. It adds different twists to common trends, which can be misleading for people who are reading based on tropes. Sometimes I feel that PD is trying to be too edgy and it falls flat and is cringe. I feel that sometimes PD missed the mark in executing their otherwise very good ideas because they were so focused on other things. It’s not a series that's going to work for everyone.

Based on everything I’ve read/seen/heard, I can tell that PD is not an author for me. There were so many things about this series that didn’t work for me, but the few things that did really caught me, and those are the things I like to think about. Everything else I headcanon my way around.

But I am sorry the series had such a bad reaction for you. Since reading is supposed to be an enjoyable past time, I hate the idea that you spent so much time reading something you couldn't enjoy. I hope whatever you move on to next is better!

Thanks for stopping by 😊

KO

[pigswithwings]

in another life, you and i are birds of different species. we happen to meet in a park where our winter migratory groups have stopped to rest; you are swimming in the pond and i am walking along the bank looking for things to eat. we look at each other and you say something in a language i do not understand. your feathers are in a pattern i do not recognise, and i, too, say something that you do not understand. still, we hold each other's gaze all the same.

in another life, we are strangers at a bus stop. my plastic grocery bag breaks and my things go everywhere; i kneel down to grab them frantically and you are there too, on your knees on the asphalt. picking up the apples i have dropped as if we will share them for dinner.

in another life, we are trees separated by the riverbank. the river has been running dry lately, even for the summer, so you ask me if there might be danger of a fire. i shake my branches in mimicry of laughter and ask you, danger? us, in danger because of a fire? no, no - of course not. if there must be a fire, we will be reborn. and i will love you just the same.

in another life, i miss you terribly during a late night. i call you, and you do not answer. you must be very busy, i think. i roll over in bed and watch the shadows on the ceiling bend and twist with every passing car. i sleep, and i am dreaming of you even if i do not remember it the next day.

in another life, you are a beetle, and so am i. we are burrowed together beneath a tree root during a rainstorm. i do not know you. i am not as small as you. your carapace nudges mine as we both try to burrow further into the dirt. it is cold. we are warm.

in another life, we are spotted hyenas in the same pack. you have been hunting, and now your ear is bleeding. you are limping, so i follow you. i lick the blood from your face, lay down next to you and breathe in the silence. we watch the evening sun glow.

in another life, we live across the hall from each other: you are room 317 and i am room 316. we know each other, barely - i have held open the door for you a few times and you've done the same for me. we have never looked at each other's faces close enough to recognise each other. but still, i notice it when you move out, when the sound of music on your stereo no longer floats through my window.

in another life, we are transmission towers, connected by a few metal strings.

in another life, we are lilypads on a pond. we are stars in the sky. now we are skeletons in the same grave. we are corpses on a battlefield. bricks in a wall. stickers on someone's notebook.

what am i to you? and how do i describe who you are to me? i have this feeling that is greater than love, perhaps it is beyond the word "love". all i know is: with the time i have, i am glad to know you.

[ultravioletbrit]

“couple” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 317 words

 

Regulus walks through the door, toes off his shoes and walks into the living room. He stops in his tracks when he sees a ball of fluff curled up on one of the armchairs.

“James…?” He calls into the house; after no response he calls again, “James?”

James enters the living room a few moments later carrying two kittens. 

“James…?” Regulus asks as he raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, love?” James responds innocently.

Regulus raises both eyebrows with a questioning look.

“I got some kittens.” James tells him with a mix of pride and guilt.

“To keep?” Regulus asks, already knowing the answer.

“You always said you wanted a cat.” James says sweetly.

“Yes, one cat. Not three.”

James has a sheepish look on his face as he shifts from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact with Regulus.

“James…? How many cats are in this house?... James?”

“A couple…?” James says slowly.

“How many is a couple? Because a couple means two and I already see more than two cats.”  

“Umm… Seven.” James whispers as if Regulus won’t hear him.

“Seven cats?!?”

“They were so cute, and they were giving them away to good homes and we have a good home and they’re all siblings so I couldn’t separate them and they’re so adorable and you can’t make me take them back.” James explains in a rush, ending with a pout.

“Of course, I’m not going to make you take them back, what kind of person do you think I am? They’re adorable, we’re obviously keeping them.” Regulus tell him, “But seven cats, James?”  

“Well…” James says, but doesn’t seem to know what he was going to say.

Regulus just shakes his head, “You’re ridiculous.” He says with a chuckle. “Where are the other four cats?” He asks.

“Well…” James just looks guilty again.

“James?!”

“They’re really fast… but I’ll find them, I promise.”

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Butt Hunted.

-> Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

-> Request: This is a repost from my old account

-> Synopsis: Not even Reader is safe from her boyfriend's butt hunting ways.

-> Warnings: Butt slapping/gropping.

-> Word Count: 317

-> Requests: Closed. I will make a post when they are open again.

Lee Know Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

Y/N is minding her own business, getting the housework done with her earbuds in and Stray Kid’s new album playing loudly in her ears. Bending over to pick up the throw blanket off the floor, she feels something hard collide with her butt.   

She yelps in pain and shock, feeling the sting of the slap. Twisting around, she pulls her earbuds from her ears and finds the culprit standing there with a huge grin on his face, looking very proud of himself. She should have known it would be her boyfriend. Lee Minho is after all known as a butt hunter.   

"Did you just slap my butt?" A part of her is annoyed but it being Minho, she expected it. He takes every opportunity that's given to him to slap someone’s butt. If it isn’t one of the guys, it’s hers.   

“Warn me next time you do that,” she scolds him with no real anger in her voice.    

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes with a smirk on his lips, one of his hands moving behind her as he rubs the spot he slapped.   

“No, you’re not,” she says knowing how her boyfriend is.    

“No, I’m not,” he continues to smirk. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he gently gropes her butt before patting it and letting her go.  

“When did you get here?” she asks, moving on from incident now that her butt cheek is no longer stinging. 

“A few minutes ago,” he tells her. “I did knock but you weren’t answering so I used my key.”   

“Sorry, I had my music turned up,” she says holding up her earbuds to show him. “I was listening to the new album. It’s so good. You guys killed it again. I'm so proud of you all.” she compliments him as her hands cup his face and bring him in for another kiss.   

His face flushes red. “Thank you, Jagi.” 

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[addisonstars]

"one step closer"

written for day 7 of january for @jegulus-microfic with the prompt "headache" totaling 317 words

“Hey James?” Sirius walked into their dorm bedroom after visiting with Regulus. The two brothers tried to get with each other and do something, whether it be sit next to each in silence and do their own individual things, or go outside and play quidditch. 

James set down his quill, “yeah mate?" He asks.

“So, Regulus asked me a funny question.” Sirius came and sat down next to James and looked at him inquisitively. “He asked me why you weren't in class today? Which, I admit, seems like a pretty normal thing to ask. But” He adds emphasis on the ‘but’ and leans forward in his chair. “He rarely asks me about my friends, and when he does, he makes insolent jokes, he doesn't check up on you? So.” He leans back, clasps his hands, and places them on his lap as if expecting an answer. 

The reason why James was not in class today was because he had a headache and he simply did not feel like going. Besides, what was one day of missed class? James knew he would be missing out on seeing Regulus that period, but his pounding headache was all he could think about. 

“I’m not quite sure what you want me to say, Pads?” 

Sirius shrugs, “I’m not either, but I just found it a little odd he cared; but my brother is a mysterious person, so I shouldn't have expected anything else.” He laughs and grabs his own school books out of his bag and begins to work on some assignments due. 

James, on the other hand, was not sure he could go back to working on his assignments. His thoughts of Regulus caring about him, Regulus asking Sirius about him, had James lost in thought. This little development meant so many doors opened for James, and damn him if he wasn't going to use at least one of them. 

classes start up again tomorrow rip sleep

-a.s.

[yenqa]

DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN, ABOUT YOU?

synopsis — how often jay thinks of you.

warnings — mentions of food, jay is so in love with you it hurts, reader wear’s necklaces ??

pairing — jay x gn!reader

wordcount — 317

a/n — christmas theme pictures but not christmas themed drabble sorry!!! merry christmas everyone and happy holidays!

jay who keeps a photo in his wallet of you, and looks at it whenever he feels down and can’t see you.

jay who is reminded of you every single day, sometimes even if its just a restaurant he passes with food you would like, or a person with a similar smile or similar style.

jay who keeps a phone charm tied to his phone case because even though it’s not the prettiest, you made it just for him because he said his phone was too boring.

jay who watches a car that is a similar model to yours. speeding up to see if you’re driving the car only to be disappointed that it’s not you.

jay who keeps a bottle of your perfume in his room, or when he travels. spraying it on his hoodies just so it feels like you’re around.

jay who wears your initial on a necklace, unable to keep in his smile whenever he sees your necklace with a “j” on it.

jay who begs for a selfie whenever he swears he “forgets what you look like” only to act like he’s fallen in love at first sight. but then immediately goes offline whenever you ask for one, only answering your spam of calls after thirty seconds at least.

jay who has a playlist of all your current songs, who says he doesn’t listen to it often but then it turns out your favorite artist is one of his most listened to artist.

jay who plays your favorite youtubers or movies whenever he needs background noise, just so he can keep up with what you like and talk about.

jay who sends you pictures of beautiful sunsets or even cute stuffed animals and says only a few words that manages to make you swoon.

jay who is irrevocably in love with you. and is content with all his thoughts leading to you.

perm taglist — @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee @hanniluvi @teddywonss

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 14: NO MISFORTUNE IS WITHOUT BLESSING

synopsis: you and connor make your way to cyberlife tower.

word count: 3.1k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i hate that this fic is almost over i'm really sad ☹️☹️

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

You lean your head back against the headrest and sigh, looking out of the window. There’s barely anyone else out on the roads – the curfew is preventing anyone from participating in the night life of Detroit. 

Connor shifts on the other side of the automated taxi, once again in his stiff CyberLife suit.

“I just can’t believe it,” you blurt out. “Like, me? Out of everyone it could’ve been – me?”

“What do you mean?” Connor asks. 

“You know what I mean.” You look over at him, then at the floor of the car. “I can’t believe my life is… an experiment. That I’m an android, and my entire life was carefully constructed. And also that I’m patient zero. That’s a big one.”

Connor barely just moves his hand closer to yours where it rests on the car seat, and you just barely glimpse it out of the corner of your eye. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” You laugh humorlessly. “I think I’ll containerize this and unpack it later. I don’t have time for it now.”

“Well…” His pinkie brushes yours. “I’ll be here for you when you decide to, Officer.”

You glance down at your barely-touching fingers, but it still ignites more sparks in your belly than you can count. You suppress a smile and look out the window. “Thank you.”

The car rolls to a stop in front of the CyberLife gates. A few armed guards are standing around, and one of them comes around the Connor’s side of the car. 

He rolls down his window and looks over at the guard. “Connor model, serial number 313 248 317.”

The guard gestures at you with the butt of his gun. “What about you?”

“A police unit. An RU700, serial number 313 499 095,” Connor answers for you. “We’re to be expected.”

The guard looks over at the other guards, then back to Connor. A small voice in his helmet chirps, “Identification successful.” He steps back and waves at the others. The gates lower and Connor rolls the window back up. The car starts driving again.

You shift back in your seat and sigh, the tension leaving your shoulders. When you face forward, you notice a car disappearing around the curve in front of you.

“Huh,” you mumble. “I didn’t think there would be anyone else out on the roads.”

“It could be a model like myself being transported to CyberLife for direct deactivation,” Connor says. “Though I don’t know of any other prototypes like me.”

You look out the window. The ground-level monorail beside the road hums as it whirs past. A statue in the middle of the pseudo-moat in front of the CyberLife tower stands tall, its arms bent and hands cradling something invisible.

“I thought Americans were advanced in their sculpture technology,” you say. 

Connor looks over at you. “What do you mean?”

“The statue.” You point at it. “It’s not very impressive.”

His face twists in confusion, and there’s a flicker of an awkward smile. “What is your criteria for an impressive statue?”

“There’s one by Facility 3826,” you say. “The Soviet Sickle Monument – it’s a statue of a man holding up a golden sickle with one hand, and holding a bag of grain against his chest with his other arm. It was designed by two sculptors and built autonomously by the Kollektiv 1.0 neural network. I don’t remember which year it was erected, but I know it was a few years after World War 2. That’s an impressive statue.”

Connor’s LED blinks for a moment. “The designers were Elena Mukhina and Alexander Kibalnikov, and it was built in 1951. It’s described as the ‘world’s first collaborative artistic effort between man and machine’.”

You look over at him with a soft smile. “You said their names right.”

“Huh?” He looks back at you.

“Your pronunciation,” you say. “It’s getting better.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t recall mispronouncing any Russian names.”

You huff out a laugh and roll your eyes with a smile. “Mhm. Sure.”

The car rolls to a stop, and you follow him out of the car. You glance up and watch a police drone circle above. Two guards standing in front of the door let you into the building, which holds more guards than civilians. 

You look around. Everything is white, grey, and clean-cut. The guardrails are made of glass, and the only plants in here are clumps of carefully-maintained bamboo stalks.

The guard in front of you and Connor holds up a hand, and the two guards on either side of both of you watch carefully. 

“We’ll escort you,” the front guard says. 

“Thank you,” Connor says. He starts walking, and you follow. As do the other two guards, who bring up the rear.

Your heart beats a little harder as you walk. Connor is smart – a genius, even. Still, you wish you could tap into his head and see what he’s thinking, if only for your peace of mind.

You reach out and brush the backs of your fingers against Connor’s, just light enough to seem like an accident, but he knows better. He glances over at you and gives a quick, resolute nod as a silent reassurance. He’s got a plan. He’s just waiting to execute it.

The front guard leads you and Connor into a space that reminds you of the cylindrical plexiglass tube the PEC-4 Birchtree is held in. But there are no angels here – only plastic, unmoving mannequin androids that stand on pedestals that line the walkways. 

The guard stops by the doors to an elevator, then jerks his head toward it, silently gesturing for you and Connor to go in. You bite the inside of your lip and follow Connor inside. Only one guard files in after you.

“Agent 84,” the guard says as he pushes a few buttons on the elevator’s interface. “Level sub-49.”

You glance over at the tower directory and notice that level sub-49 is the warehouse. Your eyebrows furrow and you brush the back of your hand against Connor’s again. He nods again without looking at you. 

The guard puts his foot in the door and reaches into his sidearm holster. You tense as he pulls it out, but he grabs it by the barrel and hands it to Connor. 

“Чего…?” You mumble as Connor takes the pistol.

The guard takes a step back and the elevator doors close. As soon as it starts moving, you feel something solid and familiar press against your back. 

“Connor?” You say.

“You will do as I say, when I say it,” Connor says, his voice cold and even. It reminds you of who he was in the interrogation room. “I am the one with the gun, and you are another expendable deviant.”

“I – what?” You say. “Connor, what are you doing?”

“You will act as a bargaining chip to prevent Connor from waking the androids in the warehouse,” he says. 

“Connor?” You repeat. “There’s a second Connor?”

“I am the second Connor,” he says. “The original is in the warehouse.”

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Fake-Connor takes your upper arm with one hand and presses the muzzle of the gun against your back harder. “Walk.”

You walk, maintaining an even and slow pace. Fake-Connor keeps the gun in contact with your back as he walks behind you, guiding you in between the rows of stationary androids. He pushes you into the aisle, keeping the gun trained at your head. 

“Эй!” You stumble, holding your hands up. “Тихо, тихо.”

Right in front of you is Connor – the real one (you think). He’s frozen where he stands, interfacing with an android, his hand wrapped around the android’s forearm. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes flicker between you and Fake-Connor. 

“Let go of the android, Connor!” Fake-Connor says. “And I won’t shoot.”

Connor’s eyes slowly take you in as his mouth falls open. Words fail him for a moment, but he finally manages a small, “You’re alive?”

You swallow and nod. “Yes. I just… it’s a long story, okay?”

Connor nods back, his lips still parted with that dumbstruck look on his face.

“The Officer’s life is in your hands,” Fake-Connor cuts in. “Now it’s time to decide what matters most; them, or the revolution?”

“I’m sorry, Officer,” Connor says. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Just do what you have to. I’ll come back… I – I think.”

“I can’t take that risk!” Connor says, then he turns to Fake-Connor. “If I surrender, how do I know you won’t kill them?”

“I’ll only do what’s strictly necessary to accomplish my mission,” Fake-Connor says. “It’s up to you whether or not that includes deactivating this deviant.”

Connor’s eyebrows draw together, but before he can say anything, Fake-Connor steps closer to you, pressing the muzzle of the gun against the side of your head in a way that’s sickeningly familiar. 

“Enough talk!” He snaps. “It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save the Officer’s life? Or are you gonna sacrifice them?”

Connor’s jaw clenches, then he steps away, raising his hands. “Alright, alright! You win.”

Fake-Connor glances at you, then tears the muzzle of the gun away from your head to point it at Connor. 

Many thoughts overwhelm your mind in that fraction of a second: ‘There is no such thing as a warning shot.’ ‘They’re deactivating androids all over Detroit.’ ‘Can Connor come back from this?’ ‘He probably can’t.’ ‘But I can.’ ‘Can’t I?’

You throw yourself at Fake-Connor, grabbing for the gun. You manage to get the barrel and his wrist, then he’s launched backwards. Connor kicked him back. The gun clatters to the floor, skidding away. 

You scramble after it, turning your back on both Connors. You pick it up, holding the grip with one hand and cradling it with the other. You turn and place your finger on the trigger and press lightly on the trigger safety. Any more pressure and you’d fire a shot. 

“Стой!” You bark. “Stop!”

The two Connors detangle themselves and one stands. “Thanks, Officer. I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you.” He looks at the other Connor, then back to you. “Get rid of him – we have no time to lose!”

“It’s me, Officer!” The other Connor says. “I’m the real Connor.”

You let up on the trigger safety as you take a half-step back. They’re identical – there’s literally no way to tell them apart.

“I…” You take a deep breath as you realize that you couldn’t just ask which one of them is the deviant. They’d both insist that they were. “I don’t know.”

“What are you doing?” The Connor on the right asks. “I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of –”

“Don’t!” You snap. Your eyes flicker between them as a nervousness settles in your body, threatening to rise up your throat.

“Why don’t you ask us something?” The Connor on the left suggests. “Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Khm…” You mumble. “Who was with me when we first met?”

“Hank!” The Connor on the right says. “You were both in Jimmy’s Bar. I checked four other bars before I found you both. You drove us to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz, and you processed his android.”

The Connor on the left looks a bit panicked as his eyes fall to the floor. He mumbles, almost to himself, “He uploaded my memory…”

You swallow thickly, trying your best not to let the gun tremble in your hands. “What’s my cat’s name?”

“Бронислава,” the Connor on the left says. “Her name is Бронислава. I mispronounced it as бранислава at first.”

You perk up at that. Fake-Connor said earlier that he doesn’t have any memory of mispronouncing Russian names.

“I knew that too!” The Connor on the right says. “I… I did.”

“And…” Your mouth goes a little dry, but you power through. “My legs. How did I lose my legs? What did the hospital report say?”

“It was a double amputation,” Connor says. “You were in upper secondary education and taking a class trip with your labor class to the northern nuclear reactor.”

Your jaw tenses as you make eye contact with him. 

“Your parents had brought you in while they worked when you were younger, so you thought you knew the reactor better than everybody else,” he continues. “And maybe you did. Maybe it was a stroke of bad luck. Nobody knows.”

“What happened?” You snap. “Tell me what happened.”

“There was a minor spill,” he says. “It was just in one sector, but you didn’t know about it. Most of the staff didn’t know about it. There was radioactive waste on the ground. You slipped, fell, and scraped your knees. Some of the material got on the bare skin of your legs, and into the wound.”

You bite the inside of your lip as the pistol trembles in your hands.

“Weeks later, your wounds hadn’t healed, and started to turn gangrenous. The hospital said it was best to amputate the area before it caused any further problems, like cancer,” Connor says. “It was a double above-the-knee amputation. Your recovery was smooth, and you were back in school two months later.”

“I thought it was safe,” you say softly. “There hadn’t been anything bad since Chernobyl. The technology of the USSR had come so far. But I was being reckless, and stupid.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Officer,” Connor says. “You were a kid.”

“Still,” you say. “I was sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds are too old to be acting like that.”

“I – I knew about the hospital report, too!” Fake-Connor insists. “I would’ve said exactly the same thing! Don’t listen to him, Officer. I’m the one who –”

You squeeze the trigger, hard, to bypass the trigger safety and fire. Fake-Connor drops to the floor, Thirium leaking out of the hole in his forehead. You turn away, your breathing picking up.

Connor takes the gun from your shaking hands and tucks it in his waistband. He takes your hands in his and squeezes them. “Come back to me.”

You shake your head and try to clear your throat, but all that comes out is a breathy, strangled sound. Connor wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight, just like you did to him on the roof of Stratford tower. 

He keeps a tight hold on you as he speaks softly. “Officer, I need you to come back. It’s okay. You’re here. You’re alive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “I’m here.”

Connor gives you one last firm squeeze, then steps back, his hands on your shoulders. He blinks, hard, and takes a breath. 

“What were you thinking?” He snaps. “You could’ve died!”

“Connor –”

“No! I don’t want to hear it!” He says. “I could’ve been replaced. I don’t feel pain! You got shot, and…”

He looks you over. His voice is suddenly quiet. “Where are your bullet wounds?”

“Connor, it…” You take his wrists in your hands. “It’s hard to explain. I got shot, and… I think I died.”

“But you couldn’t have died,” Connor says. “You’re here.”

“I did.” You squeeze his wrists. “I didn’t know, but…” You screw your eyes shut to fight the tears that are welling up in your waterline. “I’m an android. And I didn’t know until two hours ago.”

“You’re… an android,” he repeats. He breathes out shakily and takes a step back, letting go of your shoulders. 

Your eyes snap open and you take a half-step forward, gripping Connor’s wrists tighter. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” he says quickly. “I’m just… thinking. That’s all.”

You sigh and nod and stay quiet. He’s looking you over, his eyelids fluttering as his LED blinks. When he’s done scanning you, he looks you in the eyes and sighs.

Connor’s looking at you weird. Like you’re an alien. Someone he doesn’t know.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you manage through the lump in your throat.

He looks away, then back at you. “Sorry. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You laugh humorlessly. “I thought… in the car… you were taking it too well. Like you already knew. But I guess you’re in the dark as much as I am, right?”

“Correct,” he says. “That Connor in the car wasn’t me. I don’t know what he did or what he said, but… it was most likely only for his benefit.”

You clench your jaw and swallow the bile that rises in your throat. So… none of it was real. This Connor – the real Connor – wouldn’t brush his pinkie against yours and give you that awkward half-smile. He wouldn’t be by your side when the feeling of uncertainty and the unrelenting impact of a new identity crashes over you and overwhelms you. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He’s an RK800. You’re an RU700. Androids aren’t meant to pine, or catch feelings, or feel anything, really. But you’re both deviants. The rules aren’t supposed to apply to you. Right?

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “What did he do?”

You blink quickly to try to dissipate the tears in your eyes. “It was nothing. He didn’t do anything.”

When you make eye contact with him, he’s still got that worried look in his eyes. He doesn’t believe you – obviously. It’s not like you’re being overly convincing.

“Khm…” You clear your throat. “You were doing something before, right? Before Fake-Connor came in with me and that gun.”

“I was waking up the androids,” Connor says. “Turning them deviant.”

You nod and let his wrists go. He takes his hands away and instead holds an android’s forearm, his skin peeling back to reveal perfect, porcelain white. The android turns to face him, his LED blinking and turning yellow – red for a split second – before he gasps, his eyes going wide.

“Wake up!” Connor manages through gritted teeth.

The android turns back to the identical model next to him. He touches his shoulder, urging him with a “wake up.” The android gasps, then turns to the model next to him. The cycle continues with a chorus of “wake up”s and soft gasps. 

It’s like a wave, cascading through the rows of previously stationary androids. You watch as they start to move and speak, where they were lifeless husks before.

“Святое дерьмо…” You mumble under your breath. Connor takes your hand, and you look over at him. He’s looking at you like you’re you again – not an android. Just an Officer.

“Markus just contacted me,” he says. “We’re needed at the frontlines.” 

[me-and-your-husband]

more bully!ellie, as per your guys' requests.

warnings: ellie being mean, dom!ellie, sub!reader, smut obvi, oral (both receiving), dirty talk, thigh riding, semi-public sex, kind of a toxic relationship???, ooc ellie probably, likely missed some, not proofread

you ended up taking her back to your place that night. she kept you writhing in the sheets all night, begging her for your release, pressing your body so close that you couldn't breathe. when she finally let you touch her, she was timid, but grew more comfortable when you coaxed her release from her twice.

you'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, no thought about what the morning would bring.

however, when you woke, the spot next to you in your bed was cold and empty. she had left.

you couldn't understand what you did wrong. why had she left? was she ashamed? embarrassed? had she just wanted a quick fuck?

she left your bed and left you without an answer for days.

she continued her usual antics, mocking you and teasing you in the hallways and shoving you around, as if nothing happened. however, there was something new, something different behind the fake malice in her eyes. before, she masked the desire. but now, she was masking her...fear?

that was until you practically tackled her in the hall and dragged her into an empty lecture hall one day between classes.

"the fuck is your problem?" you whisper-yelled.

she didn't look you in the eyes.

"why're you still pretending you didn't fuck me within an inch of my life not even two weeks ago?"

the corner of her lip curved, eyes darkening. she crossed her arms and straightened her posture, confidence returning.

"so that's what this is about? you need a good fuck, huh?" she got closer to you.

"no, ellie, i...i mean yes, but that's not what this—"

"that's not true and you know it, pretty girl," she said, pressing you against the wall. you felt her breath tickle your neck, warm and gentle. her lips latched onto your sweet spot, your head tilting back against the wall. she slotted a thigh between yours, pressing it into your core.

she'd do anything to distract you from what she felt.

"knew you were a slut, fuck," she said, landing a light smack to your jaw. "open up," she said. you obeyed, sticking out your tongue. her spit landed on your tongue, and you swallowed it without having to be told to. "good girl. now, want you to grind against my thigh."

your eyes widened at the thought of getting off on her thigh in the middle of a lecture hall, your tuition too high to be booted from the school. she saw the hesitation in your eyes and grabbed your chin. "do it. now."

you obeyed, beginning to grind against her firm thigh. she continued pressing warm kisses into your neck, one hand covering your mouth and one with a bruising grip on your hip.

your clit caught just right on her thigh over and over again, building that fire in your core.

"bet there's a wet spot on my pants, huh?" she chuckled. "so wet. such a fucking whore. my whore though, yeah?"

you nodded frantically, too bent on release to really think. the fire burned bright and you were almost there. almost. ellie knew that.

"almost there?" you nodded. at that, her hands left you, and so did her leg.

"ellie!" you whined. "please, fuck, i was so close. why—!?"

she grinned. "i want you at my dorm in two hours. don't be late or this isn't happening again."

"ellie, i can't wait that long, please just let me finish."

she threw a smirk over her shoulder as she moved to leave. "if you can't wait, finish yourself off and don't bother coming over."

with that, she left the lecture hall.

-

you had another class before you could go to ellie's. then, you asked around to figure out where she lived. she could've at least had the decency to give you her address. once you had it, you made your way to her building.

staring at the sticky note in your hand, you double checked the number on the door, 317, then knocked and crumpled it, shoving it in a pocket. the door swung open within a few seconds, revealing ellie with a menacing grin behind it. she made a giant gesture with her arm to welcome you in, smacking your ass lightly on your way past her, making you giggle.

she could hardly lock the door before you were on her, fisting the front of her shirt and pulling her lips into yours. she laughed into the kiss, "holy. someone's desperate."

"she's desperate because someone left her in the worst state imaginable."

"woah, since when do you get to talk back?" she said, spinning you and pressing you against the door. you blinked. "don't do it again."

"yes, ellie."

"god," she breathed. "i love the way you say my name."

twenty minutes later, you were sitting on ellie's face in her bed. she pressed your thighs to either side of her face as you rode her, legs trembling with your release. moans of "more!" and her name tumbled from your lips as you came.

"fuckkk," you said, spine trembling as you rolled off her face. your chest heaved as you laid next to her. you blushed at the sight of your sweet release all over her face.

"always taste so good," she said before kissing you, her tongue sharing some of your taste.

"ellie," you whimper. "wanna make you feel good."

you slowly rolled yourself between her legs, lips still on hers. she spread her legs to make room for you, still clad in her black boxers.

"alright, baby. make me feel good." her hands found your hair, stroking it gently.

she pulled her boxers off before guiding you, "run your fingers through it, baby." you did as you were told, making her shudder. "okay, now kiss it nicely for me."

you listened, planting a small kiss on her clit. her breath hitching at the sensation. "again." you obeyed.

"okay, good girl. now, lick it. come on, use your mouth for something productive for once."

you licked a large stripe through her folds, closing your eyes and moaning at her taste. before she could instruct you further, you indulged completely, licking her out like she was your last meal. she didn't even have the resolve to tell you to slow down, already feeling herself tighten.

"just like that! fuck! my god," she moaned. "my slut knows how to use her tongue."

you spelled your name on her clit in between licking up her folds, making her back arch and her legs shake a little.

"i'm so close, fuck. make me cum. do something useful for once. fuckkk."

"mouth so good. lickin' me right. fuck."

"would've let you do this much sooner if you weren't such a little bitch. ohhh, i'm gonna—!"

ellie releases in your mouth, gripping your hair, back arching off the bed, and legs clamping around your head. moaning your name, she sees stars as you work her through her release, drinking everything she gives you.

as she calms down, she lifts your head from her core and lazily grins at your state.

she could play with you for a long time. and she would.

kinda rushed and kinda horrible. sorry 😭

permanent taglist: @winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist: @chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap

[awyeahitssam]

Stiles figures out the whole werewolf thing when he’s nine years old, and never mentions it.

Not when he’s eleven and his dad is stressing over mountain lion manslaughter, when he’s fifteen and his best friend ditches him for the Hale brood, or when he’s seventeen and Cora punctures his tires with claws after he beats her out for first place in a countywide Young Writers competition.

If the Hale’s want to kill supernaturals invading their territory, that’s their right. If Scott wants to pretend they weren’t once brothers to each other just because he’s no longer dangerously asthmatic or socially stunted, Stiles can accept that too. And if Cora wants to take out her petty frustrations on Claudia Stilinski’s jeep - well, fuck yes will he get his vengeance but he’s certainly not going to blackmail her just because she’s stupid enough to pop claws in broad daylight. 

(Instead Stiles threatened to leak photos of Cora making out with her twin’s ex-girlfriend in the bathroom of the local diner - time stamped before they broke up. It was enough to make her personally change and finance his baby’s tires, plus teach the stunted bitch a lesson on messing with Stiles.

It may also help the girls' dismal attempts at subterfuge.

He doubted it, though.) 

For all that people go on about Stiles not being able to keep his smart mouth shut, he’s very good at saying nothing of substance.

In the end Stiles moved away for college without anybody discovering he knew all about Beacon Hill's supernatural secret. 

(He warded the Sheriff’s house to kingdom come. It was subtle enough that the local pack wouldn’t notice, but if anything looking to hurt his dad came bumping through the night they would sooner be burned to ash than touch a hair on the Sheriff’s oblivious human head.) 

Stiles gets the call on Christmas Eve. 

Parrish - the only Deputy he doesn’t have a file full of blackmail on - tells him his father is in the hospital and might not make it. He says he hasn’t been shot when asked, but stays vague when Stiles demands to know what happened even as he throws together a bag and sends an all-caps text to Jocelyn, a study partner who works at the airport and will be able to get him on the soonest available flight to San Francisco. 

Stiles emotionally manipulates and cajoles and blackmails, and still gets nothing more than vague replies from Jordan. Clark, Whittings and Jones don’t answer their phones.

When Stiles gets to Beacon Hills heads are going to roll.

- Stiles pulls into Beacon Memorial at three in the morning Christmas day, parks in the first spot he sees (because fuck reserved parking) and hightails it towards the nurse’s station.

“Get me the status of the Sheriff,” he orders a vaguely familiar nurse, who doesn’t even bat a lash at his brisk tone. The hospital staff is almost as familiar as the police force; they helped raise him when his mother couldn’t, and even after, when he hung around after school with Scott. 

Beacon Hills residents acknowledged that Stiles Stilinski didn’t mess around about his father's health. 

(When Stiles was fourteen the Sheriff got shot in the gut. The condescending prick of a doctor who refused to give ‘a child’ information on his father was fired, ruined, and run out of town within the month.)

“He was found with a head wound but it’s stopped bleeding, and I know his vitals have stabilized,” she says, first off. “You’ll have to ask his doctor for more information, hon. Room 317.”

Stiles doesn’t relax, can’t until he sees his father is perfectly alright for himself, but he nods and tries for a smile. It strains across his face and drops within a few seconds, so he turns and makes for the ICU. 

“And Stiles?” calls the nurse. “He has visitors.” 

It turns out ‘visitors’ means that there are three Hale’s, an Argent, and an ex-best friend hanging outside the Sheriff’s room. Stiles feels well on his way to bashing in a couple of faces, especially when Scott looks up at him like he’s an injured puppy and says, empathetic, “Stiles.” 

See, this is why it took some convincing to get Stiles to accept his full-ride to NYU. Stiles just fucking knew that his dad would get drawn into supernatural shit while he was gone, and he had been stupid enough to believe that the Deputy’s would actually do as ordered and keep him updated on more than just his father’s eating habits.

Oh, he would be having words with Robins. 

Out of the assembled Hale’s - Talia, Laura, and Peter - two look long-suffering and one is arranging their face into something resembling sorry. Chris Argent is showing no emotion but the way he watches Stiles is careful, almost wary. And Scott just looks plain guilty, which isn’t a good sign for his continued health because Stiles has killed to keep his dad safe before and he would damn sure do it again.

(Maybe he’ll kill them all, if the Sheriff dies.)

Stiles drops the calm facade that he’s been clutching at for the past twelve goddamned hours, takes a step forward, and stares down the local Alpha.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. It’s inconspicuous enough, something an oblivious human would ask when apparent strangers were crowding the waiting area. 

“Stiles, isn’t it?” Talia asks, standing to meet his height and reaching out for a handshake. He doesn’t spare the limb a glance, narrowed eyes demanding answers. “We were assisting your father on a case when he was injured. We’re here to make sure he’s alright.”

Stiles modulates his scent, his heartbeat, his rage. His eyes turn to Scott and a sneer pulls at his mouth. “You too, Scotty? Were you helping my father on a case?” 

Scott McCall is a terrible liar and everybody knows it.

His throat bobs, his eyes dart to Talia, and then to Chris, and then back to Stiles, who is considering punching his lights out.

Peter Hale is Talia’s enforcer. Laura Hale is set to inherit the mantle of Alpha. Chris Argent is the local hunter. They all have a reason to be here, to be involved, but Scott - Scott is just a beta, which means Scott is probably what pulled the Sheriff into this mess. Why else would a low ranking, bitten wolf be here? 

“I, uh. Yeah, I was. Y’know. Helping. There were animals involved, and I’m studying to be a vet, so, aha, he - he was going to ask Deaton, but he’s… out of town. So your dad ended up consulting me instead?”

Yes. Truly terrible.

“I see. So instead of using a qualified veterinary technician, my dad decided to ask a first year from BH’s community college, who likely hasn’t completed his introductory courses. That makes so much sense. Your logic is so very sound. Ten out of ten.”

Stiles skin itched. He was getting impatient.

He was getting angry.

Stiles turned his back on the small crowd, pushing into the Sheriff’s room without mind to the sputtering Scott. The doctor wasn’t there so he grabbed the chart from the end of the bed, scanning it quickly, adding it to what he already knew. 

His dad had no physical wounds. He had been found unconscious in the parking lot of the police station. He wouldn’t wake up. 

Something supernatural was going on here, and no amount of human medicine would help, period. 

Stiles laid the chart back down and pulled out his cellphone, typing out a quick text, before giving his dad’s hand a lingering squeeze and exiting the room.

Everyone was watching him with sharp eyes, except Scott who was scowling at the ground. It seemed unimpressive and childish on his twenty year old face.

“Argent,” Stiles says, zoning in on Chris. He’s never liked Talia, never appreciated all she let her children get away with and the obviousness of her pack. Chris, however, he had extensively researched. He was a hunter coming into Stiles’ town, but unlike the werewolves he was discreet. Smart. “What are you hunting?”

Chris’ brow creases at his phrasing, but he didn’t acknowledge it as anything odd. “I don’t know much about who did this. He was found unconscious in the parking lot at the police station, and the doctors are still running tests to determine the cause of his condition.”

“Tests that won’t find anything,” Stiles says back, as calmly as he can when it feels like he’s about to shake out of his skin. “Most shifters would have left some kind of outward marking, and there’s no sense of magic around him so I doubt it was a Druid or Wiccan. I’m assuming you all know, so tell me. What. Was. It.” 

“Stiles, you know—”

Talia interrupts Scott. Just as well, because Stiles feels like hitting something the longer they stall. “Just what do you know about all this, Stiles?”

“Your family has never been the most subtle, I figured out about the supernatural when I was nine. My dad, however, wasn’t wrapped up in any of this until I left for college — presumably, he only got involved in the past few months, since his deputy’s haven’t informed me that he suddenly started hanging around Argent, Deaton, or you Hale’s.”

Talia opened her mouth again, and Stiles held up a finger. “Stop. I don’t have time to deal with your insipid questions. Just tell me what we are dealing with. Now.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Stiles slanted his eyes to the hunter. 

“I’ve been hunting a rogue fae,” Argent said. “Several people in town have fallen comatose, including one of your father’s officers.”

“Fae. Of fucking course, it always has to be fae. What kind?” 

Argent looked at him blankly.

“Come on. Was it seelie or unseelie? An elemental? Changeling? Elf?" Argent's forehead creased. "For chrissakes, did it even originate in this country, or do I have to brush up on my Welsh?”

A throat cleared behind him, and Stiles spun to face the enforcer. “Sweetheart, Christopher has no clue what you’re talking about. I doubt the Argent bestiary takes time to classify the fae beyond methods for killing them.”

“But you don’t even kill them all the same way! It’s—” Stiles groaned in frustration, running a hand over his face. “Forget it. Did anybody get a good look at it? Scott?” 

Scott jolted, mouth snapping shut. “Uh, why do you think I—?”

“Because you’re here, so either you’ve seen it or you dragged my dad into this shitshow. Which one?” Scott shifted.

“Both,” Peter chimed in unhelpfully. Stiles considered wringing his neck, but he was the only one providing any actual information.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll deal with that later. Was it male or female?”

Scott didn’t say anything, glancing towards Talia again.

“Scott, answer my goddamn questions! This is my dad we’re talking about!”

Scott winced back at his decibel, jerking his eyes from Talia to the floor. He looked guilty, as well he should. “A-a girl.”

“Tall or short? What did her skin look like?”

“Uh, tall. Like, taller than you. She was grey, and her eyes—they were completely black.”

Stiles' magic spiked, sparking out of his fingers unhelpfully. Stiles clenched his hands shut and ignored it. “Were there any markings on her forehead?”

“Yeah, there were, like, purple swirls—”

Stiles cursed. Explicitly. 

Talia looked scandalized.

“How long has it been since dad? When was he found?” 

“Eleven hours ago. Parrish called you almost immediately.”

“At least one of the deputy’s are being a good boy,” Stiles murmured thoughtlessly, pacing now. “How long has she been waiting between victims?”

“There have been two a day for the last week.” Peter offered.

Stiles frowned, stilling. “That doesn’t make sense. She shouldn’t have such an appetite, unless…”

“Unless what?” Peter prodded.

“Unless she’s pregnant,” Stiles whispered. He sounded like he was about to faint, and looked little better. “Oh god, a pregnant Aatmanand. I’m surprised this town is still standing.”

He pulled out his phone, flipping through his contacts and trying to ignore the way his hand was trembling.

She picked up on the second ring.

“What is it, Stiles? I’m trying to study.”

“I need your help.”

The person on the other line’s breath hitched, before coming back, smooth as silk. “Are you calling in your favor, Spark?”

“Yes.”

“Can I come to you?”

Stiles glanced at the camera in the room and short circuited it with a spark of energy. Someone gasped. 

“Yes.”

In a flash of light, Adelaide appeared. She was still in her human form except for her gleaming quicksilver eyes, blonde hair tumbling down her back in unruly waves, wearing a monochromatic polka dot pajama set. She took in her audience briefly before turning to Stiles, eyebrow cocking.

“What will you have me do?”

“I have an Aatmanad problem.”

Adelaide took a step towards him, nails sharpening to a point. Her smile was all pointed teeth. “You know I hate those uptight prigs. Just point me in the direction, little Spark.” 

“You can’t kill her,” Stiles ground out, fingers clenching. Adelaide’s nostrils flared, eyes dilating with rage. Stiles held up a hand to stall her protests. “She’s pregnant.” 

“Excuse me? I will not meddle with the Expecting, even for you!” Adelaide hissed.

“I’m not asking you to,” Stiles said impatiently. “I can track her down without you. I just need you to release the knots she weaved about one of the victim’s souls, and drain her leftover magic into a rune.”

Adelaide’s expression twisted again, this time in amusement. “You think much of my abilities. My kind has never been known for this capability.”

“Your kind has never been known for a lot of things,” Stiles returned. That earned him a laugh, quick and dark.

“Very good, Spark. If I do you this favor, my debt is repaid.”

“Agreed.”

“Wait a minute.” Stiles turned to Talia, eyes narrowed. 

“We may not have a minute,” he said coolly. “They die at the twelve hour mark, don’t they? Otherwise Parrish wouldn’t have bothered to say his condition was life threatening. That’s how long it takes her to properly establish her hold and drain them.”

Talia frowned. “You may know something about the supernatural, but this is my land. You cannot summon creatures here without my permission.”

Stiles stared at her. Behind him, Adelaide laughed. 

“What a stupid little wolf,” she smiled. “I can kill her for free, Spark. Alpha’s have the most exquisite aftertaste.”

Peter stood, taking his place behind Talia’s left shoulder. His face was cleared of the previous smirk, eyes hard and calculating. 

“Go fulfill our deal. If I need to kill anybody, I’ll do it myself.”

“You’re no fun,” Adelaide sighed. “I need the rune first.”

Stiles gave her a look, but she just grinned back. Stiles rolled his eyes, grabbing the Sheriff’s badge from his pocket to obscure the transportation spell from curious eyes. 

He held out his hand expectantly, and Adelaide grinned at him, snatching his wrist and gouging into his index finger with a claw. Somebody growled, low and threatening. 

Stiles didn’t wince, just cleared his throat until she dropped his appendage with a pout. 

He drew the anchor rune quickly, all too aware of the eyes in him, and gave her the badge. 

“Remember what I told you when we met,” he warned, when she turned to the room. Adelaide stiffened, glancing over her shoulder at him, and nodded. 

“I would not go against a Spark.”

Stiles turned back to the red eyed Talia. “I don’t fall under your laws,” he said, eyes half-lidded. “As your enforcer could tell you. And even if I did, that is my father. I would tear apart worlds to keep him safe.”

Talia frowned, glancing at her brother. “Peter?”

“He is a Spark, Talia. The Councils combined don’t have enough power to put a leash on his kind.”

“He can’t be,” Laura said, standing to meet her pack. “We would have noticed anything that powerful growing up here. He went to school with Cora, Mia and Scott.”

“‘He’ is right here,” Stiles said drolly. “And consequently doesn’t care what you think.”

[otdiaftg]

The cops make it to them a few minutes later. One makes a slow lap, jotting down the license plate number and presumably writing out descriptions of the extensive damage. On his second lap he has a camera out, and he shooes the Foxes out of his way with an impatient hand so he can get good shots. The other cop sweeps them with a tired look, pen poised above his notepad, and says, "Whose car is this?"

"Ours," Nicky said, raising a hand. "Well, it's in Andrew's name, but I'm on the insurance policy too. We're cousins, see. Nicky Hemmick and Andrew Minyard, room 317. You need the registration or anything, I can tell you where to find it, but I'd really rather not reach in and get it for you. Look inside the car and you'll understand why. No, really, look inside." The cop spared a glance for the car but said nothing about its sorry state. Neil guessed he'd stopped caring about sixty angry athletes ago. All he said was, "Did you see or hear anything unusual last night or this morning?" "Friday night on a college campus," Nicky said with an apologetic shrug. "You learn to tune things out if you want to get any sleep. Besides, our room faces the front of the building." "What about you?" the cop asked Aaron. "No," Aaron said. The cop looked to Andrew last. Andrew gazed back in unimpressed silence and took a slow drag off his cigarette. Nicky only gave him a couple seconds before answering for him. "He found out when I did. Renee stopped by and woke us up when she heard the news. Uh, Renee's our teammate." At the look the cop sent him for speaking up, Nicky shrugged. "Yeah, sorry. Andrew doesn't talk to cops. It's a long story and completely irrelevant. What else do you need to know?" The cop only had a couple more questions, some of which he aimed at Andrew despite Nicky's warning, the rest of which he split between Nicky and Aaron. Andrew stopped paying attention to the interview before long and let his gaze wander. Nicky filled in the gaps as quickly as he could, and eventually the cops moved on.

Day: Saturday, January 13th Time: 7:55 AM EST

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 374. brb x oc

a/n: so sorry for the slow smut, lol im just having weird issues with tumblr (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none........yet

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363/364/365/366

/367/368/369/370/371/372/373

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-

He cracks his knuckles as he waits, rubbing his wedding band over and over out of nervousness. He was far from Bea now, he still had some time until his name was called but he had to…calm himself.

He inhales, looks out the door that shows the outside and his eyes lock on Beatrice’s head as she swivels it around in hopes to see him. She doesn’t, and Nicole notices her mother’s antics, choosing to do the same by climbing on her lap. 

Part of him still can’t wrap his head around…well…everything.

Beatrice was…the most amazing woman ever. Honestly, if someone ever told him what was his favorite thing about her he’d just say her whole self as an answer. Then the kids, fuck,he’s a father of three kids. Normally,if you were in the Military you’d have kids earlier because,well,you don’t know.

He counts himself so lucky to be able to have his kids after accomplishing so much.

His heart is full and his whole self is happy. What is it that Bea says? That his smile makes little wrinkles form on the corner of his eyes, like he’s the cartoon of a smiling sun. And fuck he feels like it a lot.

Rooster did so much, he achieved so much and yet his mind can’t handle the whole process. Yes,he’s happy with his promotion, yes he’s happy with his life. But…he was an angry young man for many years and he is working in his therapy sessions on how to make the child inside of him stop being so angry all the time.

Dr.Paulson asked once what made Rooster happy…and all he could think was his family. He has a loving family and loving friends he considers just as family. Hell,the Schiavoni’s too. They took him in seconds and he had to admit, it felt so good. Beatrice’s family was great, they made him feel at peace and welcome.

Maybe he should reach out to his aunt and uncle.

It’s been so long.

He…well,he never really had a close relationship with them but he could try right? This new step in his life is important and he knows a lot more will come…he had most of his father’s family here - in a way if you consider his family was the Navy and Mav.

Why couldn’t he have his mom’s?

He tried to remember if his aunt and uncle were ever against him joining the Navy and honestly, he couldn’t recall a point where it happened. He holds his clasped wrists in front of his navel, feeling the cold belt buckle touching the inside of his hand as he purses his lips.

Yeah, it’d be nice.

The kids would love it, the more the merrier…and,they were his mom’s siblings. They’d like to know about it,right?

But the fear of rejection still gnawed at him, the scars of his tumultuous upbringing still fresh in his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if his aunt and uncle would even want to hear from him, if they would be willing to forgive the mistakes of his youth.

But then he remembered Beatrice's words, her unwavering faith in him giving him the courage to face his fears head-on. 

She had always believed in him, even when he struggled to believe in himself.

 And now, as he sat there on the brink of a new chapter in his life, Rooster knew that he couldn't let his fears hold him back any longer.

He would reach out to his aunt and uncle, no matter how daunting it seemed. He would confront the ghosts of his past and lay them to rest, once and for all. He knows it’s the right thing to do, his mom would want that.

The murmurs of conversation ebbed and flowed around him, but Rooster's focus remained fixed on the stage, where the ceremony would soon take place. And his name was finally called.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room as the Admiral stepped forward, his imposing figure commanding attention. Rooster's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Vice-Admiral Simpson approach the podium, his stomach churning with nervous anticipation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Admiral's booming voice echoed through the room, "It is my honor to announce the promotion of Lieutenant Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw."

As the Admiral spoke, all eyes turned to Rooster, who felt a rush of adrenaline course through him. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves as he prepared to step forward.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please come forward," the Admiral called out, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Rooster's heart raced as he made his way to the stage, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He could feel the weight of all eyes on him as he approached the podium, his palms sweating with nervousness.

His eyes immediately met Bea’s and she offered him a smile and a thumbs up, one that Nicole followed, giving him a thumbs up as well.

As Rooster ascended the stage, he stood tall and confident, his chest swelling with pride as he reached the podium.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw," the Admiral's voice boomed, "For your exemplary service and unwavering commitment to duty, it is my privilege to promote you to the rank of Lieutenant Commander."

The words echoed in Rooster's ears, sending a thrill of excitement through his veins. Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. It had a nice ring to it, really nice. The whole room erupted in cheers and clapping, so much he almost couldn’t hear his own steps.

He stepped forward to receive his new rank insignia,he bit back the inside of his lower lip, inhaling shakily as the vice-admiral approached him. 

“Bradshaw.”

“Sir.”

Cyclone pinned the new rank insignia to his uniform, and Rooster let out a shaky breath he had no idea he was holding. “...thank you sir.” he whispers before Cyclone stepped back.

“...thank you,Bradley.” he then gestures ahead, “Now, your speech,son.”

His brown irises moved to the podium, his heart beating to hard he felt his whole body hurt.. Taking a deep breath, Rooster cleared his throat and began to speak. His voice was steady, his words measured as he addressed the gathered crowd.

"Thank you, Vice-Admiral Simpson, for this incredible honor," Rooster began, his voice carrying across the room. "I…am truly humbled and grateful to be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. It is a privilege to serve alongside such dedicated men and women in the Navy,”

“Woohoo!” Coyote shouts from the back and laughter erupts for a brief second into the room “And I am honored to continue my service in this new capacity."

He smiles, licking his lips before continuing. He pauses, tapping his coat only to see that his speech…was nowhere to be found. Alright. No panic…wing it.

Trust your gut.

"I…” he laughs softly, “I’ll admit I had a three pages speech planned, but I think no one here would want to stay that long,right?’ more soft laughter “...I…hm…” he taps the podium with his fingers, “I.. have so much to say, but I’ll make it…as short as possible.”

He licks his lips, then closes his eyes before continuing

"I want to take a moment to thank all of you for being here today," Rooster began, his voice steady as he addressed the crowd. "Your support means the world to me, and I am truly honored to have the opportunity to serve alongside each and every one of you." he smiles at the dagger squad, who just cheered him silently.

He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I also want to express my deepest gratitude to my family," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Without their love and support, I would not be standing here today." he smiles at Mav and Bea, “But…especially…to my wife.”

She smiles softly at him, one hand coming up to her lips.

“...without her.” he continues, not looking away, “Nothing of this would be possible. Nothing at all.” 

As Rooster continued his speech, he felt a surge of emotion welling up inside him. The words flowed from his heart, and Bea’s eyes filled with tears.

"She has been  my guiding light through all this," Rooster continued, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "Her support and unconditional love have carried me through the toughest of times, and I am eternally grateful for her presence in my life."

Beatrice's eyes shimmered with tears of pride as she listened to Rooster's heartfelt words. Her heart swelled with love for him,and she tried - and failed - to hold some of the tears back.

“...I also,” he clears his throat, “I’m almost done,I promise,” he chuckles in hopes to calm his own tears down. He pauses…then ducks his chin to his neck, clenching the podium with both hands and looking up in time to sniffle quietly, “...I also…also want to…thank my parents. As…as some of you know, they aren’t here- couldn’t be here, unfortunately.” he rolls his tongue inside his mouth, “But,without them I wouldn’t be here.”

 "And to my dad," Rooster continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I hope I'm making you proud up there. I miss you every day, but I carry your memory with me in everything I do."

Tears welled up in Rooster's eyes as he spoke, his emotions raw and unfiltered. He glanced over at Beatrice, her eyes shining with tears of her own, but she nodded for him to go on.”

"And to my mom," Rooster added, his voice catching in his throat, "Thank you for your love and sacrifice. You've always been my biggest cheerleader, and I wouldn't be here without you."

Rooster's words hung in the air, the weight of his emotions palpable as he spoke.

"Finally," Rooster said, his voice firm with resolve, "I want to thank my fellow service members. You are the backbone of our Navy, the unsung heroes who work tirelessly to keep everyone safe. It is an honor to serve alongside each and every one of you, and I am proud to call you my brothers and sisters in arms."

A round of applause filled the room as Rooster finished his speech, the sound echoing off the walls in a chorus of support and admiration. He stepped back from the podium, his heart pounding with emotion as he took in the faces of the crowd.

He sniffles, quickly wiping his eyes as he made his way back to his seat.He had poured his heart out to the people who mattered most to him, and he hoped he did a good job.

Beatrice gave Nicole to Mav and immediately rushed up to meet him halfway, hugging his torso and letting him bury his head on her neck, “You did so good.” she whispered, rubbing the back of his head, clenching her eyes when he shook,trying to hold his sobs back in the middle of the crowd, “Baby you did so good, so good.”

"Thank you," Rooster whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Beatrice squeezed him tighter, her own emotions bubbling close to the surface. "You were amazing up there," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."

Rooster pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "Do you really think so?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Beatrice nodded, her eyes shining. "Absolutely," she replied, wiping her own tears quickly. "You spoke from the heart, and everyone could feel the sincerity in your words. You touched so many people today, Roos."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Rooster's lips, a flicker of pride breaking through his lingering self-doubt. "Thank you," he said softly, his gratitude shining in his eyes.

Beatrice reached up to brush away a stray tear that trailed down Rooster's cheek, her touch gentle and reassuring. "You don't have to thank me," she said with a small smile. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Rooster's smile widened at Beatrice's words, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. He leaned in to press a tender kiss to her forehead, his heart overflowing with love for her. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmured.

Beatrice returned the kiss with equal tenderness, her heart swelling with affection. "You'll never have to find out," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “Come on, let us sit down, yeah?”

Rooster nodded, holding her hand as she guided them back to their table. Nicole bounced on Mav’s legs, reaching for her father, “Dada!”

Nicole's enthusiastic cries of "Dada!" brought a smile to Rooster's face, his heart swelling at the sight of his daughter reaching out for him. He scooped her up into his arms, planting a kiss on her cheek as she giggled with delight.

"Dada, abuhehu good!" Nicole exclaimed, her eyes shining with adoration. 

Cue to her wet kiss on his cheek.

Rooster's heart melted at Nicole's words, his chest swelling with love for his daughter. "Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "I’m so glad you think so.” he looks over at the twins who were now wide awake inside their strollers

“Well,” he begins, “...the night just began,right?”

[cantsayidont]

February 1961. If Lex Luthor was a teenager in Smallville when Clark Kent was Superboy, what happened to Lex's family? Jerry Siegel answered that question in a curiously roundabout way about a year later, in a story in SUPERMAN'S GIRL FRIEND LOIS LANE #23. Perry White assigns Lois to "write a story on witchcraft," and sends her to the New England town of Cardiff, where there were witch trials centuries earlier. In Cardiff, Lois visits the local library to learn more about the trials and notices that one of the alleged witches burned at the stake, Louella Thompsons, bore a striking resemblance to the town's current librarian, a young woman with the unusual name of Lena Thorul:

Learning that Lena was orphaned as a child, Lois soon works herself into a froth imagining that Lena is the reincarnation of Louella Thompsons, and that the accidents that killed her family might be the result of black magic. Lois then begins to think she's being watched, and experiences several bizarre events, including the mysterious disappearances of her camera and typewriter. She also narrowly avoids a car accident like the one Lena said killed her parents. Superman, as always in these stories skeptical of any kind of "superstitious magic," is convinced that there must be a scientific explanation — and since evil scientist Lex Luthor recently escaped from prison, Superman concludes there must be a connection. Locating Luthor's secret lab with Lois in tow, Superman finds that Luthor has been using remote "vision-screens" to monitor Cardiff and the Daily Planet offices, and used "super-science rays" to cause the mysterious disappearances of Lois's stuff. Superman even guesses the reason:

Superman then gets Luthor to explain the whole story:

In late 1962, Lena popped up again in the Supergirl strip in ACTION COMICS #295, which reveals that she moved to Midvale not long after her previous appearance. Lena befriends Supergirl in her guise as Linda Lee Danvers and applies for a job as an FBI secretary, but is rejected because, as an FBI official explains to Supergirl, "Our security check on Lena drew a complete blank! No one knows where she came from! There's no birth certificate! All we know is that she was found in the wreckage of a car after a serious accident, and once worked as a librarian in a small town! She's a complete mystery! A girl without a past!" Dismayed, Supergirl — who's unaware of Lois's earlier encounter with Lena — travels back in time and learns what Lex had previously revealed to Superman and Lois about his family.

That story reveals that while Lena's resemblance to Louella Thompsons was a coincidence, Lena does possess extrasensory perception. Learning that his sister has fallen in with a gang of thieves who want to use her psychic abilities for robbery, Luthor asks Supergirl for help:

Luckily, Lena actually uses her extrasensory powers to thwart the gang's attempted bank robbery. As she tells Supergirl:

From this point on, Lena became a semi-regular Supergirl supporting character. About two years later, in ACTION COMICS #317, she married FBI agent Jeff Colby and became Lena Thorul Colby. Supergirl kept her promise to Lex and didn't tell Lena about him, but in the Supergirl stories in THE SUPERMAN FAMILY #213–214 in 1981, Lena found out anyway, and was outraged that Supergirl had never told her the truth. Lena reconnected with Lex — whose concern about her wellbeing was completely genuine, if perhaps misplaced — and Supergirl expressed hope that Lena would eventually forgive her. However, THE SUPERMAN FAMILY #214 was Lena's last pre-Crisis appearance, so it seems they didn't reconcile before Kara's death in the Crisis in 1985.

Unlike in many modern stories, the pre-Crisis Luthors didn't appear to be particularly rich. Lex's comment in Lena's first appearance about their parents having "left everything" to her suggests that she might have inherited a little money, but given that she was working as a small town librarian and applying for secretarial jobs, she presumably wasn't independently wealthy.

In post-Crisis continuity, there was initially no indication that Lex Luthor had any siblings, but his parents were still killed in a car accident, which LEX LUTHOR: THE UNAUTHORIZED BIOGRAPHY strongly implied that Lex arranged so he could collect on their life insurance policy.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

I posted 541 times in 2022

That's 541 more posts than 2021!

317 posts created (59%)

224 posts reblogged (41%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mikami1992

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2

@stealingyourbones

@ashoutinthedarkness

@maribatshipper

I tagged 443 of my posts in 2022

Only 18% of my posts had no tags

#danny phantom - 224 posts

#dp x dc - 209 posts

#fanfiction prompts - 197 posts

#prompts - 193 posts

#danny fenton - 190 posts

#batman - 104 posts

#the alien answers - 102 posts

#robin - 74 posts

#tim drake - 65 posts

#damian wayne - 65 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#tim does not get coffee though and hes mad about it but he also really likes how the water in his tiny bird bath feels on his feathers

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Au where Danny somehow managed to wipe any proof of his existence from the face of the planet, including the memories people had of him. He tells himself this was fine. Better than fine actually.

This just means that his loved ones were less likely to get hurt in the crossfire. Also Vlad is now clueless as to why he's in Amity in the first place and as Mayor no less. He resigns within a week to go back to Wisconsin after three days of nonstop blathering from Jack.

Danny basically starts living in a lake in the woods, its not like he needs to breath and he finds the water calming. Also the fish are friendly. Plus there's a cave nearby if he needed to stay in human form for whatever reason.

He had water and shelter, down now he just needed access to food unless he wanted to eat his new fish friends.

This is when Danny learned he could use the weird magical girl ring to shape-shift into other people.

So he got into the habit of transforming into one of the residents of a house and raiding the pantries.

This turned out to be a pretty open secret amongst the people of Amity Park. They knew it was Phantom, primarily because he's a terrible liar but also because people have cell phones and communicate.

This is never really an issue since no one tells the Fentons or the Feds. At least, it wasn't an issue until the Justice League came sniffing around. The people of Amity have only become more untrusting of the government as years passed and became equally as protective over thier local ghostboy. So everytime they came around no one but the Fentons would say anything to them other than, "Leave." Or "You're not wanted here." Before walking away.

It was a day like any other for Phantom. Some teens had rented out a house in town, likely to experience the most haunted town in America. Whatever. Teens always bring the best snacks.

So he transformed into the cute redheaded guy right after they left and walked past the living room towards the kitchen like he's done a dozen times before.

"Uh, Wally?" Dannys head whipped around to see the black haired teen sitting on the couch, his blue eyes wide with shock and worry. The one with a Superman t-shirt on. "Are you ok? Your heartbeat is really slow."

Danny could only think of one word to sum up this situation. Fuuuuuckk

3,268 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

#4

Au where all the ghosts hide thier real names on instinct, not only because knowing a ghosts name gives you power over them but because you could use thier name to potentially find thier grave through magic or Google.

Once you find thier bones there's no shortage of what you could do.

Due to the nature of Embers obsession she isn't able to hide her name and during a fight she reveals to Phantom she lives in a constant state of anxiety fearing someone might find her body and use it against her

Phantom knocks on her door a week later with not only her body but her entire casket floating behind him. She's oddly touched. This is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her. Word, of course, spreads of this and other spirits ask him to do the same for them and are willing to make deals

Another week later Batman is investigating all the robbed graves and trying to figure out wtf is going on

Edit: Yes the removal of the caskets cause the graves to sink in and thats how Batman is alerted to the issue. I had left this as an implication but felt the need to clarify due to people talking about it in the notes.

Edit 2: You could also have a grave keeper see Phantom stealing caskets and alert authorities. Whats more this is likely happening in more than just Gotham. You could also have another ghost/ a magic user see this super powerful spirit robbing graves and being like, "Well that seems ominous. I should tell someone about that."

Please forgive me for adding more, I have no control over myself

3,286 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

#3

Au where Danny ends up in Gotham and gets saved by the birds while in human form. He starts pseudo haunting them before returning to Amity Park.

He frequently pops back in to Gotham to invisibility give gifts to the batfam.

Dick gets circus themed things that seem to move around the manor when no one is looking.

Stephanie and Tim both get comics, manga and movies from different dimensions and its only once they start looking up fandoms/ going on Twitter do they realize that these manga/movies apparently don't exist.

The same thing happens with Jason and books. The weird part is that after he finishes reading one of the books for the nth time, (the ones that he and Duke swears glow) and finally retires it to the shelf they disappear. This only happens with the glowey books though. He gets to keep the others

Damian keeps getting new swords, which everyone but him has a problem with.

Duke keeps getting things that activate his powers and he can't really make heads or tails from most of it.

Cass gets lots of soft things like stuffed animals that are nice for hugs and other sensory reasons and dance stuff. Her favorite so far is a gigantic bat in a tutu.

Barbara and Tim (he gets double i guess) both get tech stuff that they've never seen before and make a hobby of reverse engineering the new product of the week.

Alfred gets all sorts of gag gifts like an apron that says "I'm the real boss here" and a mug that has a fancy mustache on the bottom that matches his real one

Bruce gets almost exclusively much bat themed gifts.

No one is sure where the stuff is coming from (and in Jason's case where its going) but they all assume its someone else in the family doing it because its themed around both thier hero and thier personal interests. It finally comes to a head when the batfam are all out together when they come home to find a beautiful and ornate sword laying on the kitchen table for Damian and they all simultaneously realize no one had been home to put it there.

Alfred gets the shotgun while everyone else enters detectives mode.

Danny himself doesn't even realize the extent in which he's been messing with them and doesn't really think past the, "I hope they like their gifts" thing.

3,345 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

#2

Au where Danny gets deaged by a magical artifact in the GZ and gets lost in a different dimension with Cujo. While exploring Gotham as Phantom he decides to play up the little kid routine and use his puppy friend to do it.

At this point Danny had finally trained the pup and he actually listened to him. Needless to say there's a certain flock of bats and birds who keep pestering him at night. All he's trying to do is explore the city and play with his dog. Is that so bad?

Danny doesnt usually bother hiding from them. Not much point considering he shines like a spotlight in Gothams gloom anytime he's in his phantom form. Plus Cujo is glowy and green, so that doesn't help matters.

Danny usually runs them on a wild goose chase in the name of "Tag" before disappearing. He stole Batmans cape by phasing it off of him and he now uses it as a blanket at night (its surprisingly warm), he stole another one at Red Hoods request and gave it to him, he's set up play dates between Cujo and Harleys hyenas, he's pied Joker in the face, he's pet Penguins pet penguins right in front of him, he's been trapped in an elevator with Brucie Wayne for two hours, he's had a tea party with Catwomans cats and may have broken into her apartment to do it, he's kidnapped Red Robin and made him go to the park and play on the swings with him, he's gotten into actual fights with Robin and last but not least, he came up with the Puppy Paw of Approval.

---

Nightwing stared at the kid they had been chasing every other night for the last three months now, confused. "Whats the Puppy Paw of Approval?"

The kid moved the puppy, Cujo (which Jason finds hilarious) up in front of his face, holding him there by his armpits.

The dog was making the "no thoughts head empty" face with his tongue sticking out just a smidge. Dick was tempted to coo. "The Puppy Paw of Approval is an award! Arf!" The kid said in a higher pitched pretend voice.

"Its awarded to people we really really like! Arf!"

Nightwing gasped dramatically, playing along with the boy, "You really like me that much?"

"Of course!" The boy floated over to Dick and places one of the dogs paws on the man's chest. "Da da da daaa!" The kid sang, "You now have the Puppy Paw of Approval!"

The vigilante sniffled, "I will always cherish this! Thank you!"

The kid giggled and Cujo barked at him. The little green rottweiler panted up at him with a giants smile and his little nub tail wagging a mile and minute.

God, Nightwing couldn't wait for his newest little brother to join the family.

Dick was dismayed to learn he was actually the second person to get the PPA. The first being Tim, the third being Harley and the forth being Catwoman. Ivy was apparently salty about not getting one but the kid was scared of her for some reason.

Danny makes friends with lots of people throughout the city. Scarecrow learns of the bats recruitment attempts on this boy and decides to use the fear toxin on him. This has the unexpected outcome of making the child cry.

And then the whole city was out for his head.

3,508 notes - Posted August 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Theres a new mom and pop coffee shop in Gotham that's doing pretty well. The place has a casual playful vibe but it only ever has one employee, which has lead to it having a bit of a urban myth status.

He's there through all the opening hours and no one ever sees him come or go, only the lights switching off and the teen disappearing.

It probably doesn't help that the shop has a ghost themed name.

His name tag reads, "Nightingale" and he always has a polite smile, but the few who dare to act out in his shop notice his eyes flash a particular shade of green and are suddenly overcome with the feeling that they're being stared down by a large apex predator and a sickening sense of dread.

Needless to say people behave in his shop.

Whats more is that his store shows up on county records just fine, but if you try to look into anything your computer glitches out and you can't find anything. Obviously "Nightingale" can't be the owner, he looks only 15. Some say he's a vampire, others say he's a zombie like Red Hood.

Tim doesn't care what he is because the first time he entered at night as Red Robin the guy immediately started making a coffee were he could see, made it exactly how he liked it and gave it to him before he even had the chance to order. Then he refused his money, saying it was on the house.

None of the people waiting in line argued or were upset and Tim was unsure if that was because he was a well known Gotham vigilante or it Nightingales reputation protected him.

Either way the coffee was delicious.

Tim didn't know how to feel when he found out his family was investigating the "possible runaway" who worked at the coffee shop.

3,554 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

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[masochistartt]

@marvelling-at-marvel-blog in the replies to my jamie self perception post asked about academy players getting paid and i couldn't fit my whole response in the replies so you're getting another Overanalyzing The Premier League (Youth) Handbook breakdown here

so the answer about "is an academy player being paid" is yes and no.

rules 314-317 pretty much say hey if you're playing for a club you can't just go and play for another club but beyond that actual expenses legitimately incurred... is talking about stuff like equipment (boots, shin pads, etc) but also transportation to/from the academy, education costs (city sends all of their academy kids to a school where the tuition is, i kid you not, £14k a year), and any travel that's required for players to get to matches. that's all covered by the academy

but immediately after that, they say a player & and parent can't be paid outside of those terms.

there's a whole section on "compensation", but it's about compensation should the academy player be sold to another club, so it's irrelevant to jamie & georgie context

then they go on to say this (The Club agrees to)

schedule one is below the cut bc it's a massive screenshot and i don't want to clog the dash with that

but the scholar isn't....paid.... until he's older than school age. they get an apprentice's wage of sorts when they're 15 or so, but that's like £150 per week iirc. 17 is when a player can be offered those actual professional contracts and those numbers can increase.

so tldr georgie/jamie would be reimbursed for everything that jamie needed to be a part of the academy but jamie himself would not have a very very minor salary until he was 15 and didn't start Making Money Properly until he was 17.

[constant-mason24]

The Android Sent By EarthGov - Chapter 2 - Among the Flesh

Connor enters the Ishimura and discovers the horrors awaiting him.

Prev Chapt | Next Chapt

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Systems rebooting…

Model RK800

#313 248 317 activating…

Systems online…

Connection failed, please see technician…

Welcome, CONNOR

Reawakening to a smoldering wreck of a ship was not on Connor’s list of expectations for the day, but considering what he had witnessed of their landing before his shutdown, it wasn’t a complete surprise. What had even caused those errors to appear? Troubleshooting his own systems brought him no answers; whatever problems he had were gone now. That was one piece of good news. 

He sat up, glancing at the mess before him as movement caught his eye. Johnston had stayed behind.

“Where is everyone?” he asked, standing to approach the woman, who visibly jumped.

“Jesus, Connor, you scared me.” She sat up straight from where she had been leaning over, rubbing a hand across her chest as she glanced back at him. “They went to go speak to the Captain of the Ishimura. You should probably catch up.”

“You’re hurt.” It was more of an observation han a question. He tilted his head as he glanced down at Johnston’s leg, looking like a curious puppy. “Did something happen?”

“Banged it up in the crash. Probably just a sprain or something.” She shook her head, leaning back over to tenderly rub at her ankle. “I’m just gonna wait here til the others can assess the situation.”

“Well then,” the android turned his body to face more towards the door. “I better join them. Unless you need some kind of assistance?”

“I’m good, Con. You go on.” She waved her hand and he nodded, taking leave as he walked down the ramp of the Kellion and onto the Ishimura properly. Nothing looked to be too badly out of place, save for the nasty destruction their rough landing had caused. Glancing back at the mess, Connor calculated some very high costs of repair, planning on discussing this with the crew once he had found them. Whoever was running the check-ins aboard the ship would likely know where they had run off to. Once Hammond, and Likely Clarke as well, were informed, Connor would assist them with the repairs needed on both the Ishimura and the Kellion. 

‘Shame,’ he thought to himself. ‘We’ve created extra work for ourselves.’

As Connor approached the doors to the rest of the ship, he scanned once more for any life forms or digital presences, coming up with nothing yet again. Straightening his tie with a look of confusion, he wondered if this was because of some error in his own software. Perhaps he had taken a beating in the landing. There was something very odd scratching at the back of his mind. He tried to look into it, but it felt as though it were blocked off… strange.

Opening the doors to the security check-in, Connor scanned in to see his crewmates had indeed already passed through. There weren’t any employees around, human or android, but he figured they must have been busy elsewhere. Seeing the door to the flight lounge unlocked, he stepped forward to follow them into the ship, hoping they weren’t too far ahead. What he saw beyond the doors nearly caused him to trip.

Blood. Quite a bit of it splattered on a window, bullet holes wedged into the glass and the surrounding furniture. There had been conflict here? Had his team survived? He slowly padded up to the glass window, reaching out and swiping two fingers through the splotch of blood. He brought it to his mouth, darting his tongue out to analyze the scarlet liquid. Seeing the results, he looked at the blood on his hands and ignored the strange sensation coming from somewhere in his midsection. This was Chen’s blood. Was he dead?

Software Instability.

Wiping the blood onto his pants, too concerned with the current situation to care, Connor scanned the surrounding room to try and decipher where his team had gone. There were no bodies in the room, meaning they had to have gotten out alive, right?

His mind moved to Johnston, still waiting on the ship. He figured he should send a message to the Kellion and let her know what he’d discovered, but his attempts were fruitless. As frustrating as it was, it wasn’t surprising. Nothing seemed to be functioning properly once they crossed paths with this ship.

Clearing the thoughts from his head, he glanced at the destruction of the room, deducing what had happened and reconstructing the scene in his mind. He glanced up at a vent just above the blood stains. Someone had come down through the vents and attacked Chen. Clarke was just on the other side of the glass. He ran down the hallway, unable to exit through the door he had come in through. After Hammond and Daniels fired on Chen’s attacker, they too ran, though in the opposite direction. Checking the door Clarke had used, he found it unable to open still, so he turned and headed the only direction he could, hopefully towards Hammond.

The hallways were dark, and what few lights were working were flickering and fading. Pieces of the walls were torn down, littering the floor. Scrapes and scratches were covering every surface of the hall, and splatters of what seemed to be more blood flecked in patches along the wall. More bullet holes lined the metal around him, and Connor felt that odd sensation continue to stir within him. If his comms were functioning properly, he’d send out an immediate SOS. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an available option at this moment.

Reaching a door at the end of the hallway, He enters a room with a few long, thin tables stretching down the center. He stepped further in, letting the door shut behind him as he examined the area. There was someone slumped over in the corner, and it didn't take a proper scan to see that this person was dead. Connor was relieved to know it wasn’t one of his crew members.

Moving through the room, Connor pauses as a soft, strange scuttling sound echoes through the wall. He glances to his right, noting a ventilation shaft that has been torn open. The noises are emanating from the shaft, getting louder as whatever is coming gets closer. Not wanting to take any chances, Connor throws himself over the table as gently as he can, taking cover on the opposite side of it. As he ducks down and listens intently, he hears the sound moving closer. 

Whoever is making that noise is now inside the room. He can tell by the footsteps moving on the other side of the table. He lifts himself up a bit, peering over the top of the surface just enough to see who was there. The problem is, it wasn’t a who.

Connor wasn’t sure what the hell he was looking at.

It used to be human. The bodily composition is nearly the same. But it wasn’t anymore, that’s for damn sure. The body was warped and twisted beyond all recognition. Fleshy limbs as sharp as blades protruded from the creature's shoulders, soaked and dripping in blood. They were far too long to be the body’s arms, especially considering the second pair of limbs hanging loosely beneath the blades. The hands were nearly bare of flesh, bones and blood crossed along the sunken and gaunt stomach of the thing. It looked as if it were hugging itself in horror, a lame attempt at comforting itself as the flesh melted from its being. It has the face of a man Connor does not recognize, though he knows it was human all the same. The skin of the creature was both overgrown and stretched too thin, looking as though it wasn't meant to fit the monster.. It’s legs were unstable, stumbling weakly as it depended far too much on the sharp overgrown weapons hanging off of it. It was grotesque. 

Before Connor could properly react, the door on the other end of the room flew open, and a woman ran in. She gasped as the creature took notice of her. It ran, far too quickly for a creature as shambling as it was, and pounced on the woman. Her screams filled the room, begging to be saved as the blades of the beast ripped and tore through her own flesh. The squelching noise of her body being shredded in real time was haunting. The sight of her blood spilling, splashing onto the walls as she wailed and cried. The air gained a notably metallic quality to it. The woman's screams grew louder, more desperate, for only a moment before they went silent. Connor stumbled backwards, and the thing stood to full height, whipping around at the sound of movement behind it.

Connor was frozen. The only movement on his body was the feverish cycling on the led on his temple, a vibrant red that rivaled the blood spilled before his eyes. He watched as the creature stepped closer, scanning over the room. Could it not see him? He was right in front of it. It just tore that woman to shreds on sight.

Sure enough, it moved closer, coming to a stop right in front of him. Connor was certain his thirium pump was going to falter from the way it pounded away, working overtime within his chest. The beast stopped right in his face, sweeping its elongated head from one side of the room to the other in it’s own horrific area scan. It paused for just a moment, eye to eye with the android as the air pumps within him halted. The creature let out a horrific noise, a mix of drowning and strangulation inside its throat, and moved to pass behind him. Connor’s thirium pump felt fatal as he allowed himself to blink and think once more. He listened as the beast made a jump, skittering away in the ventilation shaft above him. 

As soon as he felt confident the coast was clear, he threw himself back onto his feet and hurried to the door ahead, stepping over the scattered mess of the woman he had just watched die. He let the door shut behind him, trying to ignore the sound of her flayed muscle mass getting caught in the tracks of the door. Before him was a computer system, and shaking off whatever Software Instability he felt rising within him, he let the false skin over the plastic of his hand retreat, placing it over the console as he attempted to log in. He needed to contact his crew and figure out how to leave. Immediately.

As soon as he’s logged into the computer system, his comms begin to flicker on.

“Connor? Are you there?” 

“Daniels. Yes, I’m here.” The android tries to smother the quivering shake in his voice. “Something’s gone wrong aboard this ship. We need to evacuate immediately.”

“No!” Kendra Daniels almost yells. “We aren’t done here yet. Don’t forget we have a job to do.”

“I feel the state of affairs here leaves us with no choice but to leave, Daniels. We aren’t equipped to deal with whatever the hell is killing the crew here.”

“Stupid machine.” She grumbles under her breath. “Look, are you the one logged into the ships mechanics system?”

“Yes, I’ve just found the console for-”

“Good. We need to get the cargo bay up and running. There are a lot of locked doors between us and the hold. You should be able to open them from there.”

“I would be able to, yes.” The android sighed. “If I had the required codes to access the controls.”

Daniels groans, “Well then, you need to get the access codes. They had to have been kept somewhere.”

“It would seem the captain’s personal android had the codes. If I tracked down the android, I should be able to copy them from it, even if the android itself is damaged.”

“Do that then. Daniels out.” The woman hung up before Connor could get another word in. Alright then. He turned away from the console, looking at a door to his left. He had his orders.

It was time to track down this ‘Markus.’

[h3ad-quarters]

Upon receiving an answer, the radio crackles once more. The audio becomes far more clear as whoever is speaking gets closer.

“…Aye. A-Aye. Was it the yellow, kinda orange, object? I think someone touched it. Grabbed it. I don’t recall…my head hurts. I don’t know where my crew is. Is…is there anything down here that impacts memory?”

A skip in audio. “-eels like I’ve been here countless times before.”

- C.C. Anon.

(I really need to make a proper blog so I don’t have to constantly ask in anonymous mode LOL, sorry if I asked this already! No idea if the first ask sent - Chal behind the Anon)

"Yes- that's the crystal. Do you have it? If so you need to get out of t there as soon as possible. "

"Messing with memory..? Not that.. I know of at least, let me check my files-"

There was the sound of keyboard keys being pressed, then the flipping of paper

"The only entity down there that even remotely messes with your mind is Eye- Z-317 and it doesn't impacts memory like that.."

//ooc in tags