#but anyway they worked this poor kid to the bone and so much went down before the need for him ended

[iheartmapi]

A fluffy surprise

Mapi Leon x reader

Summary: After finishing work you want to enjoy some fresh air before coming home, while on a walk you notice a poor stray kitten, you take it in but how will Mapi react?

Fluff.

TW: kitten in a bad situation, mentions of death (very brief ones tho),

Word summary: 1,565

At last, your shift was approaching its end, you stared tiredly at your computers screen, yawning you finally turned it off. It was time for you to get back home, you were dreaming of a warm bath to ease the tension in your muscles and bones from sitting at your desk all day.

As you stood up from your seat you stretched awkwardly, hearing a couple of crunches here and there, your eyes scanned over your almost empty desk, it was kind of a sad sight to be honest..save for the framed picture of you and your girlfriend together, Mapi was looking at the camera whilst you kissed her cheek affectionately, you smiled at the photo before taking your bag along with your employee ID.

You made your way to the elevator, going down onto the ground floor, at the bottom you said goodbye to a couple of work colleagues before finally leaving.

Mapi would be still busy at this point at time..you hadn’t got much to do at home all alone, so you decided to visit your beloved cafe, some time has passed since the last time you went there, after all you were busy with your work as well as Mapi with hers.

You walked down the lively streets, the chatter of cars and reinventions in the distance ringing in your ears..with purpose you neared the desired street, a couple of shops down you could see the shield of your cafe already.

Finally you grasped the cafe’s glass doors handel and came inside, looking around the comfy and boho-inspired cafe memories of your time spent here alone, outings with friends and dates with Mapi came back to you, you smiled as you reminisced, making your way over to the counter with a smile on your face, there clearly weren’t a lot of clients today so the barista came up to take your order immediately. During your walk here you had decided on getting yourself a take out Latte.

After a very short period of waiting you got handed your hot cup.

As you stood in front of the cafe’s entrance again you looked down at the forest green disposable cup in your hand, your name written with a black sharpie and an extra heart next to it clear on it.

What better way to drink it than whilst on a walk at the picturesque park close to the cafe? And so, in a not hurried manner you strolled towards the park.

Your eyes moved along the greenery around you, for a change you were now surrounded with the sounds of birds singing and leaves rustling, it was very different from the city’s music filled with drunken shouting and cars honking.

You approached a tiny garden space in the middle filled with beautiful and vibrant-coloured flowers, you read the confusing labels they had next to them..sadly you did not understand the Latin terminology at all, but well, you enjoyed them anyway…then you were sure you heard something a bit weird, like a quiet weep? You turned away from the flowers, perhaps someone’s kid just fell from their bike or something..but there were practically no people around, as you were then sure that you probably just mistook something it was heard again, this time more clearly.

It wasn’t a kid weeping, it rather sounded like an animal, a cat to be precise, it was very high pitched though…so a kitten then.

You took a couple of steps towards where you think the sounds were coming from…and there it was, your eyes widened, but the surprise quickly turned into a look of pure sadness at what you saw. A little kitten was barely holding itself up, your heart broke into little pieces, what happend to this poor thing? It was skinny, dirty and disheveled, looking like a painting of pure melancholy and pain.

You crouched down carefully, not wanting to scare the kitten away, though by one glance you were sure the little animal didn’t even have enough strength to run away from you, so you slowly inched towards it…

You managed to take hold of the kitten, holding it with extreme precision, you didn’t want to put it in any more pain, the kitty was so poor, it’s big eyes glassy, it’s thinness telling you how starved it must be.

You stood back up, kitten cradled in your arms.

“You poor thing…” you murmured to yourself, the kitten only mewed in response.

So here you were now. Back at your flat, your main concern was getting the kitty back in a healthy shape. The first thing on your list was washing it, it must’ve gone through hell trying to survive in the city, that’s the story it’s dirty fur told you. So you got some lukewarm water in your sink (not too much) a soft sponge and shampoo which’s ingredient list proved to be safe for the animal…you gently washed it’s fur, later carefully drying it…you were a bit stressed about literally everything, the last thing you wanted was to hurt the poor pet.

Then the next obvious step was feeding it, you brought it into the kitchen, giving it some canned cat food (you and Mapi already had a cat so that’s why you had it in the first place) surely the kitty ate it with vigour, you couldn’t blame it, if you were starving you’d eat everything that got into your hands first as fast as you could to quench the cruel hunger…

You made sure to take care of the kitten, doing everything with precise and carefulness. After it ate and drank it feel asleep in your lap, you sat still like a marble statue, assuring it to get its much needed sleep.

Now came the hard part…what would Mapi think? You literally just took some random kitten off the street to help it..and besides you already had a cat, sure maybe cats weren’t human children but they still were a responsibility for the two of you. But what were you supposed to do? You couldn’t just leave it to surely die on the streets sooner or later. You couldn’t save every poor cat but at least you could help this one out..

An hour later…you heard the front door lock turning, yep, it was Mapi…and time to explain the situation to your girlfriend.

“I’m back!” You heard Mapi yell from the hallway. “Uh…Hey love, can you come here?” You couldn’t get up to greet her, the kitten was still asleep in your lap. Then you heard the sound of footsteps getting closer to the living room, Mapi appeared in the doorframe “What’s up, nena?” Mapi asked as she threw her bag from training onto the floor, “Um, I actually don’t really know how to tell you this-“ you started, stumbling over your words, your girlfriend came closer to the armchair you were sitting on, confusion appeared on her features, after a while she spoke up “Did something happen, Y/n?” She raised an eyebrow, you wanted to find words to explain but you just sighed and pointed down onto your lap.

This confused Mapi even more but sure enough she saw the tiny animal sleeping on your lap. She didn’t say anything for a good while neither did you.

“Y/n?”

“Listen Mapi I was in the park and I just saw it- you don’t even know how starved and dirty it was before!” You had to explain it to her somehow, she didn’t look mad but clearly a bit confused and mixed. “I..I guess I understand but I don’t know Y/n…we already have a cat, you know how it is” she answered, like a calm parent trying to explain to their child why they couldn’t just keep a stray dog or random frog they found.

You were about to say something back but then felt something stirring on your lap, it was the kitten, stretching its small limbs..it seemed as though it was waking up finally.

As Mapi saw that you had focused on something else she looked down at the kitty as well.

The small animal started meowing at you, it seemed although it has gained some strength thanks to you. You delicately cradled it in your arms, standing up and movie closer to your girlfriend.

“Listen Mapi I don’t want to sound like some annoying kid- but look at it!” You refuted, she looked at the kitty, she seemed to be debating something inside her head now.

“Y/n…oh I just don’t know” she faltered, bringing her pointer finger towards the kitten, it curiously wrapped its tiny paws around it, licking her digit. Mapi chuckled.

“Yeah it’s pretty cute, can’t lie” you smiled observing the interaction “I knew you’d warm up to her, come on I’m sure our cat won’t mind a new sibling…this little one would’ve died out there I’m sure” you kept on begging her.

Mapi looked back up at you, after a moment she sighed and answered. “Fine…we can keep her..or him…” she said.

“Are you ready though?” Mapi started petting the kitten cautiously “It’s a kitten..a baby, it’ll be even more work”

“I’m sure my supervisor will grant me some maternal leave” you joked

Mapi chuckled “that was a good one…you know I’m used to me being the one begging you for things like a child most of the time” she added

“There’s always time for changes”

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I wasn't tagged directly, lol. I'm doing it anyway, though!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 12 works on AO3!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

390,129 words, at present.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently (and I suspect forevermore): House of the Dragon. Previously: Harry Potter (back before JKR was a massive cunt).

4. Top five fics by kudos?

dōnus riñus (sweet girl) (3,417) gevivys (beauty) (2,971) ñuhus prūmȳs (my heart) (2,276) ilībītsos (little slut) (1,881) darilaros (princess) (883)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, I do! I like to thank people for reading, plus it satisfies my odd-number issue (they make me weirdly uncomfy). When people take time out of their day to leave me a message, I want to make sure I'm recognising that and letting them know that I appreciate it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Yikes. I think it's the Harry Potter one, where I have Harry and Hermione marry and have a kid during the war, and they both die in the Final Battle and Ron ends up taking the kid to visit their grave.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that pretty much all my terms of endearment fics have happy endings - or near enough for ASOIAF-verse!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Weirdly enough, no. I'd resigned myself to it given the themes and content, but people are weirdly accepting of it. I sometimes get strange comments (like someone who keeps insisting I make Daemon cheat with Rhaenyra), but they aren't hate, just... odd.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Feels like that should be overemphasised, haha. My writing is diiiiiirty.

10. Craziest crossover?

I haven't written any crossovers! If I were to do so, I'd probably do a 'Daenerys teleports back in time to House of the Dragon and gets with Daemon and Rhaenyra'. Hot.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Three damn times, lol, all from the same fic series (ToE). Once in May of last year, where someone stole my work and only changed the names to fit the Shadow and Bone fandom. Once again in June of last year, where someone plagiarised multiple ways and multiple times to write their fic (a whole other drama, yikes). And once in May of this year, where someone stole the entire first part of one of my chapters to write their Daemon x OC fic on Wattpad. All have been removed, because I'm not down with plagiarism at all.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so? I cannot remember for the life of me. I know I've been asked, and I gave my approval, but I haven't seen the translations myself so no idea if that ever went ahead.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! But it hasn't been published. We call it 'the Socussy fic' because it involves an unnamed female OC being hired by the Blacks to off the Greens during the Dance, only she does so by banging them to death in hilariously macabre ways. I wrote the establishing part featuring Daemon hiring her and the Larys footfuck death. We're missing one final bit, I think? It started in the big HotD Discord server I run, and @bottlesandbarricades @targaryenrealnessdarling and @ewanmitchellcrumbs have all collaborated on it. We're waiting for a final victim to contribute and then we shall convene as the Socussy Council and bestow the posting of it upon one poor soul! (I vote you Rach @bottlesandbarricades)

14. All time favourite ship?

I'm a die-hard Daemyra (Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen) fan, but I also recognise that this is likely going to fracture and perish as the series progresses. I'm also hella into Jonsa (Jon Snow x Sansa Stark) and Jonerys (Jon Snow x Daenerys Targaryen). Plus, I like Jaimsa (Jaime Lannister x Sansa Stark) and Sanseryn (Sansa Stark x Oberyn Martell). I don't really know what this all says about me as a person, both the pairings themselves AND the fact they're all ASOIAF ships.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have an Aemond WIP fic that I'm too scared to finish given Aemond stans are a little intimidating to me! Also, I have a Klaus Mikaelson x OC/Reader x Elijah Mikaelson threesome fic that lingers in my files.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think my strengths are my flowery prose, my relative era-accurate world-building and my characterisation.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I ramble way the fuck too much. Seriously, shut up, Em. Explain those three paragraphs in one goddamn sentence only.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I think it's cool! I've made sure to research how one would format the inclusion of this in a standard fiction novel, too, so that it reads as 'professionally' as it can be. I manually translate High Valyrian to include in my writing, because the translators aren't at all accurate and I don't want to break the immersion (even for myself). (As an aside, I can and do assist others in this too - hit me up if you need it!)

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Blegh. Harry Potter. Don't shoot me, I was a child.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

My series terms of endearment. If I have to choose within the series, probably ñuhus prūmȳs (my heart); it's the first proper divergence from show material featuring my own plot, and I think it's where my writing truly takes form.

YAY! Done.

No pressure tags: @vampire-exgirlfriend @emilykaldwen @marthawrites @mini-kunoichi @selfproclaimedunicorn

@ripdragonbeans @flowerpotmage @presidenthades @queen--kenobi @lady-morrigen

[ticklish-n-stuff]

hi there sakura!! :3 hope you’re doing well, i hope it’s alright if i send in a request for tickletober <3

you’re never gonna guess who i’m gonna ask for…

tsukasa tenma from project sekai whaattt who would’ve guessed😅😅

anyways hear me out, i was thinking number 28 with lee!tsukasa and ler!toya (platonic obvi…) where tsukasa is absolutely exhausted after a long day and toya offers him a massage but little does he know kasa is just a silly lil ticklish guy

i absolutely adore the way you write for tsukasa it lights up my whole day

anyways there’s no pressure at all feel free to turn this down if you don’t wanna do it LOL

take care!! -ur local kasa stan

Tickletober day #28: Massage

WAOO WHAT A SHOCKER/J

Man you're lucky the 3rd anni came around this time cause it's like I've been injected with pjsk fever

Anyways hope you enjoy! And happy candy hunting :D

___________________________________________

Tsukasa x Toya (platonic)

Lee: Tsukasa

Ler: Toya

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

“You really didn’t have to do this, Toya”

“Please, Tsukasa-senpai, I insist. It’s the least I can do for all the times you’ve helped me.”

Tsukasa wasn’t one to like getting pampered like this, but he couldn’t bear to disappoint Toya.

“Oh fine, but just for a bit”

Toya’s face lit up as he possitioned himself behind Tsukasa, placing his hands on the older one’s shoulders.

“Let me know if this is alright” and with that, Toya started to rhythmically squeeze and rub the spot. Tsukasa couldn’t help but let out a loud sigh of satisfaction.

“That’s perfect, actually! How’d you get so good at this?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice…”

Toya’s words started to fall deaf to Tsukasa’s ears yas he started feeling fingers creeping ever so close to his neck, causing him to shiver involuntarily. Poor Toya quickly halted his hands, brows furrowing in concern.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“NO! It just erm…”

“It just what?” his junior tilted his head like a confused cat.

“…it just tickled a bit…” the blonde’s cheeks slowly flared up at his revelation. His voice not above a whisper, Toya almost didn’t catch it.

“Oh… okay” the bicolored haired male couldn’t help but smile as he went back to rub the stress away frol his senior, not like he wouldn’t have a bit of fun with it…

As he worked down Tsukasa’s back, Toya focused on massaging the back of his ribs. His fingertips softly pressing between each bone.

“EEP?!” Tsukasa let out a startled squeak, his body instantly jolting.

“Hold on, Tsukasa-senpai. I can’t massage you if you keep squirming” Toya’s face was as deadpan as ever, and yet there was a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“Ah right, sorry…” Tsukasa hung his head sheepishly as skilled fingers continued their onslaught of tickles- I mean their massage. The blonde held his breath as if he was drowning in a pool, but no, he just wanted to hold back his adorable reactions.

Toya’s short nails softly traced all over his back: down his spine, inching ever so closely to his sides before pulling back, trailing all the way up to his neck and even teasing his ears.

“Pfft! Ehehehe! Toya…! How much lohohonger?!” Tsukasa couldn’t take it anymore. As gentle as the touch was, it just made him feel more ticklish. The world future star curled slightly on himself as he giggled like a little kid. Toya couldn’t help but softly chuckle along.

“Okay, okay. I’m done” he quickly retracted his hanfd away, watching senior slump against him, slowly catching his breath. The sudden proximity caused the stoic boy to flush a bit. “Are you okay…?” he asked feeling a bit nervous.

Tsukasa still felt tingly, so he looked up at Toya with a wide smile and gave him a thumbs up, causing Toya to smile with him.

After a comfortable moment of silence, Tsukasa spoke up “So, how about I return the favor?~”. The blonde had a devilish grin to him as he teasingly wiggled his fingers towards the younger male.

“W-wait! Tsukasa-senPAHAHAI!”

Don’t mess with the Tenmas. Kidding, Tsukasa loved every second of it, he's just too prideful to admit it.

___________________________________________

[remarcely]

Undeath In The Family- Remarcely AO3 [Batman Fanfic]

As his nails tore through wood and dirt, Jason pinched his eyes shut and held his breath. The fact alone he had breath to hold was remarkable and likely the only thing fuelling his frenzied escape from his own coffin. By the time worms and mud broke away and he finally felt air hit his face, he gasped for breath and heaved himself over to roll onto the grass. Cradling his hands, marred and ruined, against his chest, he curled up on his side and heaved with each inhale. His eyes stayed shut, screwed up tight as he struggled through waves of dizziness.

He laid amongst the headstones for a while, shaking, as tears broke clean paths down his dirt-covered face. Jason attempted to shout, scream, but the words died in his throat and came out as groans of pain or stringed together sounds- utter nonsense. It was useless, there was no one around to hear him anyway, and that left him with one last choice; crawl.

At first he tried his hands- purely out of instinct- and let out a ragged cry at the pain. He didn’t have time to waste, however, and instead made use of his wrists. He reached out as far as he could and dragged himself forward, each movement and jostle of bones leaving him in absolute agony. Even upon the padded floor of the coffin, he had been screaming out from his broken bones. How morbid that his hands merely matched the rest of his fucked-up body.

Not one to be deterred so easily, he reached again. And again, and again, and again. His hands bumped into cold marble, taller grass, wilted remains of flowers, and eventually hard stone beneath him. Uneven and leading in a long stretch ahead of him. A pathway.

Continuing to crawl, he nudged his face against his sleeve and built up the courage to open his eyes. It was night and nearing morning. A heavy mist had settled down upon the graveyard and the lights of Gotham far ahead were blurred in the haze. His gaze wandered to the pathway, the next slab ahead, and then down to bloody skin-

He shut his eyes.

After a while, he found a use for the pain. Not only was it keeping him moving, but it was far stronger than any pinch and constantly reminded Jason that he was alive. Barely, screaming and just about hanging on, but alive nonetheless.

When he paused in his journey, panting and forehead pressed against the ground beneath, he did not hear the distant whistle. Nor the mumbled cursed, harried footsteps, and with his eyes shut so firmly the light of a torch also went unnoticed.

He slumped to the ground at a stranger’s feet as trembling fingers dialled 911.

-

In terms of comfort, had his entire body not been crushed, Jason would have taken the plush lining on his coffin over the scratchy sheets of a hospital bed. He might have said so to one of the nurses hovering by him, it’d probably make them laugh, but at most it’d drag out as a pathetic moan and at best it’d up the dosage of whatever drugs they had him on. Maybe the latter wouldn’t be so bad, the feeling in his legs was beginning to fight back.

The nurse on shift that night, keeping the watch over John Doe while the police did their work, was chatty. From the second he entered the room and started checking Jason over, he had talked non-stop about himself, or the floors gossip (the old lady down the hall was a riot apparently), whatever he could to fill the dead air.

Jason wasn’t entirely awake for it, slipping in and out. With so much of his body either bandaged, splinted, or mottled with bruises, perhaps that was a blessing. Besides, the guy just reminded him of Dick, which made him think of Alfred, and that could only lead to-

“Hm? Did-did you say something there, little guy?” The nurse crouched slightly by the upper half of the bad, so sure he’d heard the patient speak. Poor kid, he must have been dreaming, hopefully something peaceful “Don’t get shy on me now, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listen-”

“Bruce.”

-

When the phone rang out in Wayne Manor, the officer on the other end knew it’d be a long shot. At two in the morning, any sane person would be fast asleep.

Click.

“Hello? Bruce Wayne speaking.”

Sat at the bat-computer, fresh coffee steaming in his mug, Bruce paused the CCTV footage up on the big screen and swiped his thumb across his phone screen to pick up the call.

“Oh, uh, Mr Wayne. Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would- never mind. My name is Officer Riley, I do apologise for calling you so late and all, but there was… well. There has seemed to be an incident concerning the- uh- grave of your son, Jason Todd.”

He stayed perfectly still, as frozen in time as the video he’d been scouring for clues, and took a deep breath “Excuse me, my sons grave? Has it been damaged?” Not by accident, the police would hardly be called in for something so simple, and while a graffitied child’s headstone was horrific it would have been left for the mornings concern.

“That’s a um, a good question, sir. The groundskeeper found someone, a kid- well, frankly beat to all hell if you’ll pardon my language, in the cemetery, and in our investigation, we found he originated from… uh. Something broke out of the grave, sir, and the hospital has just confirmed the ID of Jason Todd from our John Doe.”

-

Not bothering to find anything more than his wallet and keys, Bruce all-but tore the front door off its hinges as he made straight for the closest car in the drive. He white-knuckled the steering wheel, teetering on the edge of the speed-limit, and barked out for the cars system to dial Dicks phone number. He did not for one second tear his eyes away from the road- barely lit by the dimmed street lights- as it rung.

After two more tries, someone answered.

“Bruce? Come on, it’s like-”

“Gotham General Hospital, second floor, room twelve. Get there. Now.”

Dick didn’t argue, he knew that tone all too well and it was never brought out for anything less than an emergency “I’m grabbing my coat now, is it Tim?”

“No, I’ll tell you when you get there.”

“B, you can’t just leave me with-”

He cut him off, the hospital visible and only moments away “I will not risk you getting into an accident, Dick, just get here and I will debrief you when you do.”

Tearing into the car park, he burst from the car and locked it behind him with the key fob, if not purely out of habit. Showing his ID to the police officers waiting at the front desk, he was guided into the elevator, down hallways and eventually they came to a stop outside a unassuming door, just like any other in the wing yet somehow a hundred times more taunting.

“His bloodwork came back, we got the boys to rush it through, and we’re pretty certain it’s him but anything you can give us would help.” The woman to his left spoke softly and pushed the door open.

Shrouded in tubes and bandages was a boy, dark haired and on the short side for his age- he always had been. Should his eyes have been open, Bruce had not a single doubt in his mind they would have been blue.

A gentle hand on his shoulder jolted Bruce back into the present, hesitantly taking a step across the threshold “Behind his left ear, Jason had a small mole.” He weakly gestured to his own ear, a shaky finger pointing to the area he was describing.

The doctor lightly tilted the kids head to the side, not too much in fear of jostling any of his injuries, and bent down to peer at the patch of skin. He reached for a wipe, the packet sat upon the table next to him, and dabbed away the left-over dirt clinging on. His eyes widened and he looked up at the officers, nodding.

“It’s there.”

-

Dick found Bruce sat, head in his hands, on a plastic chair in a hallway on the second floor. He looked like shit, to put it likely, with eye bags so heavy it was a wonder he hadn’t dropped to the ground from the weight. At the sound of approaching footsteps, echoing down the corridor, he looked up and stood.

Before Dick had the chance to even ask what was going on, he was pulled into a tight hug. His hands awkwardly lifted to pat Bruce on the back “What’s going on, Bruce?”

The man pulled away, though still kept Dick close, and sighed with a shaky smile “It’s Jason. He’s alive.”

“What?” Dick whispered, eyes wide in confusion “Dad, no. Jason died.”

“I-” Bruce huffed out an exhausted chuckle under his breath, bordering on hysterical, and tugged Dick towards a door “I know, but somehow he’s back.”

Walking in first, Dick was close to stumbling back into the hall at the sight of a hauntingly familiar face covered with an oxygen mask. They were alarmingly pale, mostly swaddled in bandages and casts, but there was no mistaking it. It was Jason and nothing short of a miracle at that.

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

Bruce pulled him closer to his side, squeezing an arm around his shoulders “I got a call, the keeper at the cemetery found someone collapsed on the ground. The police followed the trail and it went back to a grave with the earth pushed up.”

“Is he… like Grundy?”

“No, chum.” He shook his head “They’ve checked him over here, apart from the injuries and lack of oxygen, he’s doing alright. It’s a matter of waiting for him to wake up.”

On unsteady legs, Dick approached the bed. Down on the blanket was a small hand, bandaged with dirt under the nails. He crouched down, holding that hand in both of his, tremors shaking the both of them, so scared of hurting his little brother. His fingers brushed further down the wrist and felt a slow but steady pulse.

-

By the time Tim dragged himself out of bed and made it downstairs, the phone had already rung once and been answered by Alfred. The young robin did not find the butler making breakfast as he would any other morning, in fact the kitchen was empty with kettle untouched. With a piece of bread (untoasted) in his mouth, Tim investigated the house to find himself mostly alone.

He was wandering about, peeking through doors, when Alfred found him. The butler had shockingly just exited Jasons old room, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and was wiping at his reddened eyes.

“Oh, Master Timothy, I do apologise it seems I forgot to prepare you a proper breakfast.” Alfred fondly ruffled the kid’s hair.

“What’s happening Alfie? Where’s Bruce?”

Wiping the crumbs from Tims sweater, Alfred kneeled down to face him properly “Master Bruce had a call last night, to the hospital. Both him and Master Dick are there now.”

Tim looked from the shut door over the man’s shoulder to the zipped up bag “This has something to do with Jason.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re quite the detective,” Alfred weakly smiled “They found a body that has been identified as young Master Jason.”

His jaw dropped “But… Are they certain?”

“Very, Master Bruce sent further evidence from the boy to the cave for testing. Heavens knows how, but it seems we have been given a miracle, my boy.”

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Fixed

well if you were desperate for a source to all of this I suppose you could trace it back to Little Ritchie Wilkes and his arm and his bike-riding accident although that's not say it was his fault exactly as after all it had been an accident and accidents were no-one's fault at all but in any case he broke his bike and his left arm at the same time and that's why they brought him to me and opened the gates for everything else.

folk had always known I had a knack for the mending of things and would bring me their dented pots and broken vases for me to put together but never an actual person until Little Ritchie arrived in tears and a torn orange sweater as brightly coloured as he was pale with a broken arm slung against his chest and a broken bike under his other hand which he also wanted me to fix.

well I did the bike nice and easy and the arm went a treat as well although I was worried about whether my gift would work for flesh and blood like it did for porcelain and tin as although I helped that poor chickadee that flew into the porch windows the year before and it did fly away again quite happily I thought in that case it might have just been stunned rather than having any broken bones that needed welding back together like the ones in Little Ritchie's arm.

anyway I patched him up and packed him off home and forgot about the whole affair and hoped that he would too except he clearly remembered everything because some twelve years down the track the man that was now Big Ritchie or at least Regular Size worked in that new car factory and got his arm caught in the machine and it didn't break although the machine did and everyone was shocked and he lost his job as they thought he must have put something else in there but he said it was just his hand and pointed its finger to me.

I remember when I had that old silk dress my Great Aunt Gracie left me when I was a young woman and foolish and Ma told me to treat it with care but I went out one night and drank too much and snagged it on the briar on the path home and this was before my gift had manifested so she took it to patch up as best she could with needle and thread except the thread she used was coarser than the silk so you could always see the stitches and that side itched something terrible to wear but of course it never tore again.

I realise that the other things I fixed didn't come back to me again and I had always just thought that people were more careful with their favourite vase or such-and-such having so nearly almost lost them but now I think about how scar tissue heals thick and heavy on the skin and wonder if when I fix things I fix them better so that they don't break and need fixing again and anyway that's what Regular Ritchie thought and what he told them and why they came.

so all of a sudden I had people turning up with this-or-that injury for me to look at and of course some were honestly won but preferring me over a doctor because of the rumours and I was sure that some were faked or even forced such that the person had deliberately broken their own arm to get a better one which couldn't be broken again and they were all begging for my help and some I fixed and some I didn't and I hoped I'd been good at telling which were which.

but of course some will have slipped through or even some of the honest ones might have turned dishonest in the meantime in the way that Little Ritchie the bike-riding kid became Regular Ritchie the factory worker and perhaps because of their newfound strength or invulnerability they were tempted into wicked ways they might not have otherwise found and so the fault is doubly mine for healing them in the first place.

so yes the long and short of it is that yes I am responsible for your supervillains as you call them and no I cannot turn them back and yes I've seen the error of my ways and no I do not do that anymore not even to nice detectives who want to lock them up because I can never know what that might do to you or what you might one day become with a badge and a gun as well as all that power.

and you can never know either and frankly you may also come to regret having such a gift because I know that my gift may seem wonderful on the outside but when you show me all these pictures of what these people have done I wish that it had never come to me I would have rather been ordinary and not have the power to fix things rather than create a problem that no-one can fix at all.

well yes perhaps if it was me and I was dying or in pain I would of course feel the urge to save myself yes even if I fell off a tall building and had to fix every bone in my body which would in theory make me stronger than any of my other patients but you have to see that would be different as I would already be responsible for all my future actions and so there would be no added burde- no what are you doing? where are you taking me? I don't know how to fight I don't know how

[lennjamin-o7]

🌯🗡️ back just to quickly say with the “I think you might need to be wary of the "accidentally" in that sentence.”

Phil: (maybe) deliberately delays the trip so that when techno comes to the manor, his parents might be mad at him and present an opportunity for him to drive a wedge between them so he can get more trust / use it as a “well they were dicks so really I’m saving you” excuse before adopting tech

Phil: “This will work out perfectly and techno probably won’t even realise what I’ve done until too late!”

Techno: gets scratched on the cheek pretty badly, gets his hair shaved off and then gets locked in his room ignored and alone just to top it all off.

Phil: 👁️👁️

Phil: “I may have miscalculated just a tiny bit. Slightly bigger wedge than I was expecting but I’m used to improvising at this point”

The real magic behind this royal family is the way they’re constantly able to fuck up literally ANY plan Phil has with them. Purely just a “oh you think you’re bad?? Watch this!” And then they just accidentally neglect their son.

The royal family: “We have 2 perfect children. It’s not really our fault when we compare the normal one to them and punish him harshly because if it!”

Phil: “You’ve fucked up a perfectly good sonboy is what you did! Look at him. Now he has self worth issues ON TOP of anxiety!”

That and just:

Phil, finally coming face to face to renegotiate the deal: “You’re not leaving until I get my son.”

The royals: “Don’t you mean daughter??”

Phil: “I know what I said”

Or:

The king and queen: “We want nothing more than to have our children happy and safe which is why we’re going to the queen of fae to negate this deal”

Techno: Would genuinely intimately be happier and safer if he was adopted by Phil and Kristin. He gets to experience everything they deprived him of ON TOP of becoming immortal and having 2 of the most powerful fae in existence willing to go to battle for him in a HEARTBEAT

The king and queen: “No not like that-“

As well as:

The king and queen: “Wow we’re such good parents!”

Phil: Provides a better parenting experience in a single evening than they did in their entire lives of having 3 children

Phil: Steals the one child they never truly appreciated and gives him the best life POSSIBLE to make up for all that he missed and went through

Phil: “And I’d do it again BITCH”

I genuinely just adore the thought of Phil having just CONSTANT beef with them, like it’s not even about the deal anymore he’s just mad at them over their parenting skills. Just doing ANYTHING he can to fuckin upstage them, bro has beef with them down to the BONE with how mad he is.

Phil: Deliberately has Kristin make winter colder just so the king and queen like have problems heating the castle and their kingdom struggles

The king and queen: “Damn it’s fuckin way too cold this year”

Phil: “And that’s what you deserve! I fuckin PRAY you freeze”

Techno: Shivers slightly

Phil: “Oh my baby, my poor sonboy. Do you want some enchanted blankets to keep you warm? What about some Totally Not Magical stew to make you extra toasty?? Maybe even a heating enchantment on that earring???”

Bro will forever be their BIGGEST hater. He wakes up every day and tries spread as many bad vibes onto them as possible. He literally worked out a way to magically make sure both sides of their pillows would be warm. That’s the level of hating he’s been on.

Or that meme with I receive vs you receive:

Phil: “Here’s the deal, I receive a perfect sonboy who I can dote on and adore with my wonderful wife for the rest of forever”

Phil: “You receive me not obliterating your entire bloodline and taking the kid anyway”

The king and queen: “I can’t help but feel this real might be a little bit uneven”

Techno: “Do I get a say in this like at all??”

Phil: “No ❤️”

That 1 sentence just spurred on so much brainrot for me I couldn’t help but share! My brain created like 50 different pathways just to brainrot and come up with more scenarios. I’m like going back and checking for spelling mistakes and I’m literally only just realising now how much I’ve written lmao

As always, have a nice day and I’m sorry if I’ve overwhelmed!

Phil. Maybe not the King of the Fae, but certainly the King of Improv. He is an opportunist. They opportuniest of opportunists. He is 'Yes, and?'ing this adoption.

Techno is just a little guy. A little guy with a big heart. He needs some attention. Some love. That shouldn't be too much to ask. And yet-

And Yet-

Enchanted blankets, you say?

But Yeah, Philza is not happy about the state of the sonboy. He should have been better taken care of. Don't worry. :) He's got this covered :)

Bro, sorry it took me so long to respond. But I adore every SYLLABLE of all of your brainrots. Literally. Never apologize. I am so glad you sent them. <3 <3 <3 <3

[theskyexists]

The last graduate reread

It's crazy. People just RUN. You save yourself or it's over. Damn

Does El seriously not realise that if she just got her head out of her ass and told any enclave: I can kill every mal ever ever ever if you just give me the mana... But no

It's something that the scholomance is trying to teach her now. It realised she's got a weakness for poor freshmen lol

But hold on if El got jumped 5 times a week, then how the heck has she never shown off her killing prowess???

She NEVER asks Orion for mana. And he's so unbelievably dumb that he never even offers it

Once again, the last graduate sets the scholomance up as the largest mal ever - perfectly. El literally thinks: it feeds on us. Yet.

Honestly ...I think Orion DOES like Chloe a bit. He likes them all well enough. They're alright. They just don't interest him.

She just killed a whole pack of leskits.

She could have absolutely saved a couple of those 600 kids that died anyway. If she'd had the SENSE to get a power sharer

There were two silly parts in here that I disliked. The plans that went nope. The honeypot plan in original form that went nowhere. And yknow the whole graduation plan.

Was the scholomance trying to get Orion to slow down on his eating too?

I am pretty damn sad that Chloe got such a limited role in the golden enclaves. She's their ALLY. Why wasn't she there for any of it???

Yeah. Why CAN Orion see El? It IS probably because she's a third level entity.

Mana mana mana. Can't find enough mana to do a major working. Ok but. Orion is right there. He's right there. He WILL BE right there in the graduation hall. So. Endless mana.

Yeah this was the disappointing honepot setup. Their first experiment with the lute worked just about. Rework the melody.

Sludging acid that can burn through flesh and bone. It's like she doesn't even see that that might be USEFUL ON MALS???

Last time i also thought this spell was insane. Insane. It took a minute. It took no mana. Its free mana building. All it takes is common selfless purpose. healing. And they never use it again. She could have used it on any one person bleeding out or dying of one or the other mal poison or wound. Like.

Wait... Orion could SEE Cora when she got healed by circle

Wait... Is it because she's pure mana? No. He'd be able to see liu. Its because she's so powerful. So that IS why. Third order entity, thus has crisp edges for a mawmouth

Orion doesn't want the sharer because then he'd suck it dry.

El complaining aboutbrewing instant kill poisons. El...you can throw them...at Mals. You can trade them..... To be thrown at mals....

I would actually bet that the Scholomance has been funneling mals at El before, it was just never so obvious before, and matched to her abilities. Or not.... Did she just run everytime she got jumped? Probably ....

El says ' i understood him perfectly' but she didn't understand him there at all lol

Holy SHIT. Liesel tripped El so bad just before the mortal flame it's basically a fucking murder attempt. What the FUCK. She goddamn well gave you important information too

Ah. Right. She regretted hurting her that bad.

Amazing cake metaphors for Liesel's stunning cleavage lips and hair ensemble that Orion has zero interest in.

AND THEN THEY KISS!!!!!!! great kissing scene

That line I'll never forget it. That there's nothing much more dangerous than a fully grown wizard. Yeah. What if they didn't have to fight for their lives endlessly. What would become of humanity then...

She only realised now, now that freaking khamis did it, that SHE could do it. My god.

El is convinced Orion wouldn't survive. Which is stupid and hilarious in retrospect..he WILL survive

He just won't be able to protect people much. After all he couldn't get at Ellen in time

So the scholomance set up a situation to get El to see she will have to get everybody out. Then threw a course at them that only she can help teams get through

ALFIE!!!!! still so friendly lol

Liesel, a woman after El's own heart.

The Marathi group who traded their spellbook to Jaipur for enclave building spells instantly imploded after getting them. Well now we know why. Some moralists among them

It does also say here that you can purge your own mana. Why doesn't every fucking wizard do that oh my GOD. That's a bad loophole you shouldn't have put in novik

She literally describes the use of a mal binding spell then goes urgh but it was useless. El....you didn't have to keep it... Didn't have to feed it human corpses....just direct it into the void....

El still pessimistically interpreting the scholomance.

El not telling anyone she's gonna save em all.

WHY???? ARE YOU AN IDIOT

I guess the scholomance feels the same

Oh right. This was the moment even the book admitted: El desperately needs help because she can never spit a single thing out that would help everyone

Wow I suddenly love khamis. For finally having a go at El.

Yeah the scholomance made her the enclaver in a group of thousands. But now she's got to live with being that, everybody having to say yes to her stupid plan or die

Edit: kind of hilarious that Liesel was looking like some sort of super attractive vogue model scholomance equivalent and Orion didn't even notice which somehow triggered El into going for it with him. I need a fanfic of that exact scene again with them as highly accomplished adults. Like. El (Killer of Mawmouths) takes Liesel along (Domina of London and Manager of the Mawmouth Extermination Program) into the new Scholomance to visit Orion (Guardian of the Scholomance) and Liesel looks stunning and El looks beautiful naturally but yknow like a hippie nomad who never had the chance to learn how to dress. And somehow you get the same dynamic where El notices how amazing Liesel looks and how Orion doesn't notice at all. And Liesel rolls her eyes at El like, duh. And it again triggers El and Orion making out. Lolololol (because that IS flattering right? And also Liesel IS an aphrodisiac alsjdodjeoddjdjliaks).

[theramblingvoid]

Thinking about how much I love weight gain as a symbol of healing in fiction. Your superhero character having a dad bod in his happy epilogue because he's retired from the biz now and can live a full life instead of training for the cameras and to not be killed by villains 24/7. Your dystopia YA heroine becoming chubby in the peaceful world she built because she is no longer running on fear and adrenaline and has the space to become soft and comfortable. Your character who went through emotional hell in the first and second book of the trilogy and is relearning how to care for their body and nourish it and love life again in the third. This also applies to characters who were never "skinny" or "underweight" beforehand btw. Less weight gain in fiction as an indicator of "letting yourself go" more weight gain as an indicator of how far you've come.

[schrodingersauthorii]

In honor of Salvage Ch. 18, I have prepared the first chapter of my Phoenix Salvage AU. @muffinlance , there’s one scene that’s 100% an improvement in my overall writing structure I pulled from you, and I bet NOBODY can tell which one it is.

—————————

The young soldier must have somehow heard the blade coming. He didn’t have time to cry out, but the panic stains his face. Not quite the easy death Hakoda wanted, but unavoidable, and still far kinder than leaving him to the sea.

Two years of fighting had left many too-young Fire Nation soldiers dead on this deck, but this was different than a battle. Different even than a mercy kill, back when they thought maybe Fire Nation prisoners would simply accept a fate other than death.

The soldier wouldn’t have left them any choice in the end. But he hadn’t forced their hands. Not yet.

One of the men murmured a prayer, a simple benediction for the journey to the next life. This wasn’t the clean up after a battle, and there might not Fire elders speaking rites for the kid somewhere across the sea. The soldier might only have what they give him, and they're pragmatic people- not cruel.

The Fire Nation burns their dead. That would be kindest, but if they could safely build a pyre, then they could have safely kept a firebending prisoner. The young soldier have a sea burial.

The corpse vetoed this. Violently.

Akake and Tuluk yelped, dropping the suddenly burning body onto the wooden deck.

Fire shouldn’t be green and purple, Hakoda barely had to think, and the fire disappeared. He blinked the sparks out of his eyes, and the deck was as clear. No fire, purple-green or otherwise. Just a vaguely soldier shaped mound of ash.

Hakoda reached down to touch it: barely warm, and not so much as a soot mark beneath it.

Something stirred. Something tiny. Hakoda grabbed it without giving himself time to think about it. Whatever it was squirmed frantically in his hand.

Hakoda looked down, expecting- something. A still beating heart, perhaps. A reptile or worm, at the very least. Something repulsive and macabre. But a tiny, down-feathered bird trembled in his hand. He brushed ash off of soft, orange wings. Even filthy, the fledgling glowed like sunrise.

“It’s a bird,” Hakoda said, dumbfounded.

“A bird,” Tuluk repeated.

The bird cheeped in distress. Hakoda started to pet it, but it nearly fell to the deck in its effort to escape his hand. He quickly cupped it with both hands instead. The bird pecked at his fingers.

The entire deck stared in stunned silence. What were they supposed to do with a bird?

————————

Tolko presented a box hastily stuffed with hay from the albatross-pidgeon coop. Hakoda carefully dropped the chick inside. It burrowed down into the loose “nest,” still cheeping incessantly.

“He’s so cute,” Tolko gasped. “What are we going to do with him?”

Tolko stared at the bird with love already in his eyes. The bird stared back with… suspicion. At the very least.

Hakoda’s temples begun a warning throb.

“Ask Kustaa if he can… find anything,” he finally said.

Tolko cooed at the bird as he walked away.

Hakoda felt a dreadful portent hum in his bones: this would not end well, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

------

“What is that?” Kustaa asked.

“A bird,” Tolko said. And held the chick up to Kustaa’s face, as if not seeing the puffball was the problem.

“Which might also be a Fire Nation soldier. The Chief wants to know if you can find anything.”

“A soldier.”

“Yeah. He was drifting past, we fished him out, but he was. You know. A Fire Nation soldier. And he said he was a firebender. So.”

“So what?”

“He kind of...died. And spontaneously combusted. The bird was in the ashes. See?”

Tolko brushed the bird’s head and held up a sooty finger. The chick couldn’t really floof in anger- it was already at maximum floof- but it gave its best impression of outrage anyway. Tolko hastily placed it on the table before it could tumble out of his hand.

“This is a bird,” Kustaa said. “I’m a healer, not an ornithologist. Or a shaman. All I’m qualified to say whether or not YOU have brain rot.”

“Umm…” Tolko mumbled.

“Any headaches? Blurred vision? Acute pain in your arms or legs? Motor difficulties?” Kustaa asked as he prodded Tolko’s arms.

“No?”

“Then we’ll work with the assumption that Spirits were involved, not Swamp Fever. Hopefully, a minor Spirit.”

Kustaa leaned down in front of the bird.

“Can you understand us: peck two times, then three.”

Low and behold, the bird did… then stared at them and pecked a deliberate pattern of some sort.

“I don’t understand that,” Kustaa said.

A storm of outraged peeping.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Are you a Spirit, one peck for yes, two pecks for no.”

Two pecks, and more outraged peeping.

“...Are you a bird?”

In hindsight, it was incredibly bold of them to assume Zuko knew more than they did about anything.

--------

Tuluk entered Hakoda’s office after a single knock, and Hakoda’s temples immediately resumed pounding.

“Apparently, the bird insists he is the soldier, and NOT a Spirit,” Tuluk said.

Hakoda pinched the bridge of his nose. And resolved to make an offering soon. There were stories about shapeshifting Spirits who forgot they weren’t human.

“Keep an eye on him,” Hakoda said. “We’ll head to the nearest port and find an Earth Sage. This is exactly the kind of trouble we don’t need.”

Tuluk nodded grimly.

A thought struck Hakoda. “How did…?”

Tuluk sighed. “Lots of questions. Lots of patience. Kustaa is positively charmed with the little menace.”

“He’s a bird.”

“A mean one,” Tuluk agreed. “But he’s warmed to Kustaa and Tolko, for stars knows why.”

Hakoda didn’t like the idea of a Spirit getting… attached to his crew, but he liked the idea of an upset Spirit on his ship even less.

“Keep an eye on them, please,” Hakoda said.

Tuluk nodded, understanding in his eyes.

“I’ll do my best, but that’s a conversation you need to have with Kustaa and Tolko. Probably the rest of the crew, too.”

Hakoda’s headache sharpened with knife-like intensity. Tuluk eyed him with concern.

“Chief. Nobody will blame you if you need a drink before that. Kustaa’s almost ordered a shipwide medicinal order.”

Hakoda sighed.

“After,” he promised. And didn’t clarify after what.

—————————-

Their youngest crewman tucked the surly creature into his parka, from where it eyed everyone and everything with deep suspicion. Tolko kept up a mostly one-sided commentary, which the soldier-bird seemed surprisingly engaged with.

“Do you know his name?” Punuk asked as Tolko showed the bird their snack break offerings.

“No,” Tolko said through a mouthful of salted fish. “It’s the character for ‘righteous rule,’ but we couldn’t figure out the pronunciation. So Birdie it is.”

“Birdie” cheeped aggressively enough to attract the other crewmen’s attention for the first time in hours. There was still work to be done, and his constant noise quickly faded into the background.

“That’s terrible. How about… Sparky? Ember?”

“Blaze.”

“Inferno.”

“Red.”

“You can’t call him red, he’s pink.”

“He’s definitely more orange than pink.”

“Orange still isn’t red.”

Ragnalok tossed an empty water skin at the pair.

“Stop torturing the poor guy. He already died once today.”

The trio went quiet.

“Way too soon, man,” Panuk said.

Birdie was… worryingly quiet for several hours after that.

-------

Tolko roused in the middle of the night, awakened by a faint stirring of downy feathers and soft cooing. Birdy was awake. Tolko couldn’t see it, but dawn must be on the horizon.

Birds liked dawn. So did firebenders, presumably. It was early, but Tolko wasn’t tired-tired, so…

Tolko scooped Birdy up in one hand and slid out of his hammock. “We’ll go top deck,” he whispered as he tucked Birdy into his collar.

Birdy cheeped in a maybe grumpy, maybe affirmative way. But it was soft, so Tolko didn’t think he was upset. Birdy was very, very good at communicating when he was upset, bird or not.

It still seemed uncharacteristic. And Birdy was slumping on Tolko’s shoulder in a way he hadn’t yesterday.

Tolko scooped Birdy back into his hand, and Birdy just… cheeped quietly. Cheeped once and fell silent.

Okay. It was early: Birdy might just be tired. It was a Thing, that birds got sleepy when it was dark- even if it wasn’t actually night. They’d go topdeck and watch the sunrise, and if Birdie still seemed off he’d come back and wake Kustaa.

Tolko climbed the last stair just as the sun broke free of the horizon. Birdie chirped softly again, and Tolko held him out into the light.

“It’s beautiful,” Tolko said.

And Birdie once again caught fire on the Spirits damned deck.

[red-doll-face]

Hey I love reading your Thomas Hewitt stories and I was wondering if you can write one with Thomas Hewitt being a dom and a little with his female s/o if your comfortable writing it or you can do a Thomas Hewitt and female s/o where they grew up with each other and she had to leave for because of her parents and a couple years later she comes back and surprises him and the family ☺️😅

It’s not that im not up for it I just wasn’t sure if u wanted nsfw or fluff but the second prompt was a bit more clear, if you’re still interested in the first maybe send me a few more details and I’ll see what I can do ! Sorry this took forever to write 🥲

WC: 1285

Warnings; nothing much this is sort of fluffy , mentions of bullying and blood

Thomas B. Hewitt x gn Reader

One and Only

“C’mon, come play with us!” Blonde summer hair bounced around with all of the other girls on the school ground, the other girls with their dresses and bobby socks. Your mother, a dutiful teacher at the school made you wear clothes that seemed to fit right in with them but no matter what she dressed you in, you never were enthusiastic about playing with them.

“Yeah, leave the dumb ugly boy crying in the ditch.” They laughed, cruelly. Your brows furrowed.

“But he’s bleeding.” You mutter and they boo you and blow raspberries at you.

“Who cares, he’s so ugly,” They chitter and some become uninterested enough to wander away. Your heart bleeds like he does as you begin to climb into the ditch he was tossed in. This was the worst anyone had ever done to poor Tommy B. Hewitt. His face was scarred and flaky, thus the target of every person with a mean bone in their body. Girls and boys would poke at him. Prod him like a circus attraction.

“Tommy? Where’s your mama?” He sobs in the ditch, blood from tumbling over sharp things dripping down the tan skin of his arm. Your pressed white shirt has a brown smudge on it already. He never answers that question. You don't say anything either for a moment, watching him heave. You try to help him up but he’s too heavy for you to carry up the steep slope. He must have dirt all over his face. Dirt all over your shoes. You frown and look at the ridge of the hole you're in. His mama’ll never see him from up there. He might never go home. You couldn't imagine him laying in the ditch behind the schoolyard all night, his poor mama crying out for him and he none the wiser. Sleeping in the dirt. You know what his mama looks like. So, you wait on top of the ridge. Eventually, Tommy’s mama comes around.

“You seen my son, child?”

“Yes, Ms.Hewitt. He’s in there. The older boys beat him and pushed him in. Can’t get him out anyhow. I tried.” You point towards the boy. Small for someone so big for his age. His papa must be the size of Mt. Rushmore. The woman gasps and stumbles down the incline.

“You rotten things! My baby down here bleedin’!” She helps her son to stand and you finally see his face. It is indeed covered in dirt and tears. The red scarring raises over the lower half of his face. Tommy sees you looking and he chokes back a sob, letting his head bow to face the ground. His mama can’t quite get him out either so you help her tug him up. His ankle might have gotten hurt. The woman, though judging you as one of the children who tormented her son, thanks you.

“You do this to my son?” She glares down at you and you shake your head.

“Good.”

Tommy’s family has a plantation a few miles away from the town and many a mile away from the slaughterhouse. You and your mama live in the area. Mama sometimes goes down to give Luda Mae, Tommy’s mama, some books for Tommy. She won’t let him go to school no more seeing as how they nearly broke her son's leg. You go down with her, no one to look after you at the house. You hide behind her skirt but she shoos you away to go play with Tommy. She and Ms. Luda Mae talk about tea and rancher’s gossip. Tommy’s in the parlor. Bits of fabric and a tin full of needles sit on the floor with him. You tilt your head.

“What’re you doing?” You speak and he startles. He looks like he might cry again and you're not sure what to do. You watch as he shrinks in on himself. You kneel down next to him, picking up a thread he had cut and a needle.

“Need help threading it?” He fumbles and snatches the items. He tries to show you he can do it, quickly becoming frustrated. He hadn’t the tact for it but it could be learned.

“Here,” you show him your trick, placing the bristled thread between your lips for a second, then slipping it easily in the eye. You pull it out and tell him to try. He slowly copies your actions and you smile.

You remember the Hewitt boy fondly. You remember him when he was his happiest. Unfortunately, your mother couldn't afford to live in the town anymore after her work dried up and the water followed behind. She had found a job in Dallas, as her child you went where she did. You were sad that you had to leave poor Tommy B. Hewitt behind, you knew you were the only friend he ever had.

Now, you live in Dallas, looking after your mother. She teaches kids piano and you work in the city. Your mother one day mentions the quaint country house you used to live in and you decide to go see if it's still standing. Driving down the dusty roads brings back memories of simpler days. You remember, suddenly the sullen face of Tommy too. He had been so sad to see you drive away. You waved at him.

The plantation house is still there. A lot dingier and darker than you could recall. You fear for a moment that it's abandoned but there are signs of life. You carefully walk up to the porch, knowing Tommy’s uncle had set traps to catch varmint all of the time. You make it and knock. The weathered face of Ms. Luda Mae answers, looking surprised and then her face sours.

“If it ain't the city slicker.” She furrows her brow, glasses on beads pulled up to rest on the tip of her nose.

“Hi Ms. Luda Mae. How’ve you been?” You try to be friendly but she appears to be resistant to your smile and warm tone.

“Fine, just fine. You?” It’s southern politeness, she doesn't seem an ounce interested.

“Good, I haven't been down here since-”

“Since you left. Broke my only son’s heart, you did.” You frown. You hadn’t meant to but you won't fill your mouth with excuses. She knows why you left.

“Tommy’s still around?”

“Yup. I’m not sure he’ll want to see you. I’ll call him over anyway.” She closes the door a moment and shuffles off into her house. You stand patiently, waiting. Lumbering footsteps approach the door and stop. Nervous maybe. You don’t call out to him, soon the creak of the door assures you he does want to see you.

“Hi Tom-” He picks you up and hoists you in a hug. You gasp, his arms tightening around your middle. He’s grown up now, you can tell. He’s tall and built like a brick house. He places you down after a moment, hands on your shoulders as if to make sure you’re real. To make sure you’ll stay. He has a mask on to cover a face you’ve already seen.

“Tommy B. Hewitt, do you remember me?” He nods and looks down on you with those familiar brown eyes.

“Your mama said I broke your heart. That true?” He averts his eyes in embarrassment. Looking rather sheepish for a man the size of a bull. He doesn't indicate any form of yes. You comfort him anyway.

“I’m sorry Tommy. Wasn't a thing I could do. Do you forgive me?” He nods after a moment.

“Fill me in on what’s happening round here?” He nods again, eagerly gripping your hand in his own, tugging you inside of the old plantation house..

This one isn’t very exciting and is sort of long but I hope u like it ! Thanks for the req ! 😳🥰

[anika-ann]

In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love) - Pt.1

Type: two-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 3700

Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly. 

This is not a beginning of a steamy story; given the reason you’re hanging out in the dark, even a make-out session is honestly the last thing you want to fantasize about right now.

But that doesn’t mean that the nice stranger cannot make your day much better. 

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, a bit of angst, attempt at humour, language

You were on the verge of screaming – or crying, you honestly weren't sure anymore. But you knew you were done. You had worked your fingers to a bone just to get here; to become a little bee in the most famous hive in Manhattan. Stark Industries. The Stark/Avengers Tower. The beacon of the New York skyline. The dream coming true.

Yeah, not so much.

You hadn't expected super-important assignments – after all, you were just an assistant to the head of one of too many departments – but God, you had not expected to be handling coffee so often. To be running ridiculous errands. Your degree from MIT should actually mean something here! If nothing else than that you were not just some pretty face and that you fucking didn’t deserve the treatment you were receiving.

And that was the root of trouble, really. You could handle making your way up, it would be tiring but not surprising, it was pretty much what you had assigned for.

But you had not assigned for the sexist comments, disgusting innuendo and for the grabby hands of your sleazy boss. Thomas Gregory was a fucking nightmare of a man and you swore that you were quitting if he called you a ‘Dollface’ or slapped your ass one more time.

And that was how you had got here, into this very moment; hiding in a dark supply closet like a creep with two cups of overpriced coffee in a cup holder and a piece of organic carob-nut muffin.

You weren't about to come out any time soon, because you simply knew your boss still would be a pig and give you yet another reason to hand in your notice and you had fucking wanted this job for so long, worked for it so hard and sacrificed too much that you just couldn't make yourself to quit no matter how much your skin cringed and your stomach rolled over every time Thomas Gregory touched you. It was so frustrating you wanted to scream.

Or cry, you still couldn't solve the dilemma. Maybe both.

You barely registered the hurried footsteps – and then the door was yanked open, you glimpsed a tall blond male figure and suddenly there was dark again. Except there was one more body in the very limited room of the closet, making you press your back onto the shelf.

Something rattled with your movement and the newcomer hissed a barely audible ‘Be quiet’ as two columns of muscles that were probably his arms framed your head leaning onto the very same shelf, so you could both fit in here.

The little order leaving his lips broke the last seal inside you. You were tired, frustrated and were receiving enough humiliation as it was, you did not need some random guy invading your hideout, barking orders.

“Look, mister, if you have any problem with me trying to make a little space for you in this tiny-ass closet, I recommend you to-”  

“Shh!” he hushed you and you thought you had never heard someone whisper so urgently; at least it sounded less bossy than before. It did not mollify you though, because this guy actually had enough impudence to-

“Don't you dare to shush me-!”

A hand went to cover your mouth and you let out an exasperated mumble of curses, while his voice continued.

“Please, just— I'm sorry, please, don't make a sound, my friend is trying to set me up and-”

Your eyes went wide and he suddenly fell silent. Before you could question his methods of shutting you up, his exclaim or the pause, and ask him to be so kind to find another closet, another male voice sounded somewhere behind the door.

“Come on, Steeeve. Man, don't be such a prude. Lillian is a great chic, okay?”

The man – the friend, you assumed – seemed annoyed and you couldn't believe that Steve had not been kidding you. He was actually hiding for the very reason he had offered you. You nodded as you heard the stranger behind the door move and the hand covering your mouth hesitantly disappeared.

“It's just a lip piercing, don't be such a tight-ass. It can actually be quite fun, you wouldn't believe what a girl can do with such thing…”

“Gross,” you commented soundlessly and you could feel your companion’s eyes burning a hole into your head in silent agreement.

“Goddammit, Steve!”

The voice and the footsteps slowly disappeared in the distance and you… you were face to face with a stranger named Steve in a limited space of a dark supply closet, his breath tickling your scalp, his cologne very much assaulting your nose; at least it was a pleasant assault.

“I'm sorry for being so rude. And thank you,” his voice caressed your hairline gently and hearing his suddenly polite tone and evaluating this whole situation, you could barely hold back a giggle all of sudden.

“You're welcome, Steve. How long has this been going on?”

“Two days-” That didn't sound too bad, he could probably take a lot more- “-at this level. With Lillian. It was Emily before that and Angelina before that. In smaller scale, it's been happening for about four months,” he recited dutifully as if he was reporting a status to his boss and this time you couldn’t help it – you giggled.

When you could feel the wounded gaze he gave you, you obediently made a sympathetic noise.

“Aww, poor you, your friend supplying you with no doubt great relationship material…”

“That’s what he said! But I don't want a relationship material. I don't want any material, not even his… one-night stand material. What does that mean anyway? These are women he's talking about, not a material-”

You let out a tiny pleased sound at his exasperation, which shut him up. You wondered if it was your turn to speak – it was hard to tell, supply-closet conversations weren't exactly your area of expertise.

“Kudos for that thinking,” you noted after short silence and the darker shadow of his figure tilted his head. “Did you try to tell him that you weren't interested…? Of course you did, why am I asking, that was a stupid question…”

“It's okay. I'm sorry, I got a little… carried away. It just… it's like talking to a brick wall.”

You hummed in sympathy again and the room fell into silence once more.

It was ridiculous how much your mind started working over hundred percent, trying to come up with something appropriate to say. The best you could do was:

“Hey, you want a cup of overpriced organic coffee? I happen to have two.”

The needy noise that let his lips was downright pornographic. Or maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, the strange environment finally getting to you.

“I knew I smelled coffee here! I thought I went completely insane.”

You couldn't help but smile at that. Yeah, you knew the feeling all too well.

“Nope, your senses were not playing tricks on you. Help yourself. It should be around your left hand.” A rustling of a paper bag. “Oh. That's a carob-nut muffin – with carob instead of cocoa. You can have that too, I won't need that.”

“Alright, I gotta ask. Why are you hiding in a supply closet, with a muffin and two cups of expensive coffee nonetheless? And may I hand you one?”

“Such a gentleman. Thanks,” you murmured and accepted the cup. You weren't lying about not needing it – you wouldn't. Because you were about to quit; it was inevitable.

You sipped the warm liquid, its taste as bitter as the reason behind your actions.

“So?”

“I'm hiding from my boss.”

Your voice must have sounded terrible, because his own softened at the confession.

“And why is that?”

“Because if I bring him his coffee and muffin, he'll probably call me his good girl and— and slap my butt and-”

“I beg your pardon?” he growled, like honest to God growled, the strange sound warming your scalp.

And it was the righteous outrage in the sound he let out, the reaction that you needed, someone agreeing with you – a stranger, who wouldn’t feel obliged to do so just it was a duty of being a good friend to you – that made the levee break. Suddenly tears were streaming down your face, anger and humiliation, and your breath was hitching in embarrassing hiccups and the dark space felt so anonymous and safe at the same time that you didn't even care anymore.

“And if he does that I’ll have to– to quit, because I-I'm so fucking fed up with his dis-disgusting hands and si-sickening voice voicing his lizard thoughts a-and I ca-can't quit goddammit, I worked so fucking hard to-to get a job h-here and-”

You didn't realise your hands started trembling until the cup disappeared from them, placed back on the shelf, and a pair of much bigger and warmer hands gently enveloped yours, his body shifting just a little closer as he lost the support that had been keeping some distance between you.

“Hey, hey, shh, it's gonna be okay…” his voice washed over you soothingly, sounding almost at your ear.

Still, there was space between your bodies, a respectable distance – as respectable as possible in the limited space. It was as if he acknowledged it could make you uncomfortable – which probably wasn't exactly hard to figure out, given what you just told him.

“I'm sorry,” you sobbed and cleared your throat afterwards in attempt to compose yourself. “I didn't mean to load that on you, my problems are none of your concern-”

“Like hell they aren't. Sexual harassment on a workplace is everyone's concern, or it should be,” he grunted. His hands tightened their grip, not uncomfortably – reassuring. “This okay?”

You smiled through your tears. This Steve guy was really sweet to you. You almost forgot what it was like to be treated with respect.

“Y-yeah. Thank you for-- for asking. That was really nice.”

He huffed. “It should be a normal human decency. And I did grab you before that, sorry.”

“Something tells me you would let go if I said no more vehemently.”

“Of course I would.”

You gave him a watery smile he couldn't see and tried to calm your breathing completely. His thumb caressing your wrist helped. You wondered which department he was from; if his skills in comforting came with a job description or if he was a natural.

“Have you… have you tried to fill in a report?” he asked hesitantly, making your heart stop.

Oh yeah, you had. It had ended up in a shredder machine, because Thomas had spotted it. He had made you do it yourself, standing over you and watching, claiming the complaint had been baseless and it would pointless to hand it anyway, because he would explain the HR how it truly was. That you had made a move and he, the good father and husband he had been, politely turned you down, which turned you vengeful.

You whispered the story to Steve, your voice trembling, more tears escaping and you could immediately tell he believed you – because his grip grew steely strong, his teeth grinding.

“This is wrong. You should have never been forced to work for a man like him– objectifying you, touching you, threatening you, that's just--- you should talk to Tony,” he blurted out in the end and you frowned.

“Who's Tony?”

You had checked the whole HR department via their website when doing your research. You couldn't recall any Tony.

There was a short pause, broken by Steve's confused voice. “Stark.”

You blinked, wondering if Steve was joking. He didn't sound like he was joking, which was strange, because so far, he had seemed to be a smart and reasonable man.

“There's no way I'm scoring a meeting with Mr. Stark. And it's not like he’s dealing with things like that.”

“...Talk to Pepper then. I doubt she has bigger than zero tolerance for harassment,” he exclaimed confidently as if talking to Pepper Potts (this time you assumed whom he was talking about – did he call all of the big bosses their first name…?) was an option for a regular human being like you. Realizing that all over again though, that was tough.

“While I believe that’s her policy, it's not like I can just walk into her office.”

Steve seemed to consider that, while his thumb was still drawing patterns on your skin, almost subconsciously.

“I think you could. But if you're worried it might take a while and you’re scared to go back to your office now, let me walk you. I can explain him that every employee deserves to be treated with respect,” he offered finally, deadly serious, yet still sounding kind.

Your heart swelled. A guy you just met (in a supply closet, a good story to be narrated at parties, you supposed), suggested to help you out, no hesitation. God, wasn't he just too pure for this world?

“I… thank you, Steve. But… while you do have an impressive frame, I think it would only get worse. I think I'll just enjoy this extremely hipster coffee, which I'll later have to pay for no doubt and… and go face my boss to hand him my resignation. There are plenty jobs, right? I can as well serve coffee in a café,” you said with a sad smile, letting your hands slip from his comfortable hold.

“That's not right. Especially if you worked hard to– not to mention it's a matter of principle. You run away once and… running is a very hard habit to break,” he whispered, as if a secret, trying to reason with you.

You bit your lip when the truth of his words washed over you, along with the way he spoke; with such a strong believe in principles that should stand a standard. It… he made you forgot your own trouble for a second as you let yourself get lost in him. In the way he treated you, the protector's persona, yet not forced. He had suggested you to ‘let him come with you’, not even a note of command in his approach. This was not a man seeing an opportunity to be a hero when spotting the damsel in distress; this was a man who believed in what was right and wanted to fix things that were apparently broken. You wished there were more men like him, selfishly wanting one of them to be your boss.

“And men like these – they need to be put in line,” he added darkly, snapping you from your daydreaming of a better world. “Let me come with you. I'll—I’ll help you fill in the forms, walk you to HR. You don't have to deal with this alone.”

For all the comfort the dark had offered you so far, you wished for a little bit more light now, enough to see his face, his eyes. You knew they would be burning with honesty, you were sure of it, maybe a little rage aimed at a man who dared to treat another human being the way he did.

The offer was so tempting. But just imagining the security escorting Steve from the building for wanting to help you was enough to put out the fiery need to accept. It was ridiculous to care so much about his well-being after what could be minutes of knowing him, but no one could call you out on it. And if they did, you could always play it cool with ‘matter of principles’; good people only deserved good things.

You carefully reached out, hoping to find his hand again. Your heart skipped a beat when you brushed his thigh instead, but at least his hand was right next to it. He released a surprised breath when you took it into yours, way smaller one. You bit your lip when leaning in a little, blindly trying to meet his gaze.

“You’re a good man, Steve. I’m sorry your friend is giving you a hard time, you don't deserve that – even though I'm sure he means well. If you ever want to get him off your back...” you wavered at the ridiculous idea, but hey, why the hell not, he had offered to help you out first, “you can say you're seeing someone. Give him my card. I'll confirm we're together – he seems like a kind of a guy who would check.”

Shocked breathless laugh erupted from his chest and you assumed you hit the nail on the head. You fished out one of your business cards, handing it to him and releasing his hand then.

It was time to leave and face your fate, but Steve didn't make any attempt at moving out of the closet.

In fact, he seemed to examine the card for a while and then he quietly read out your name. You gasped in surprise. How the hell could he see anything? You could barely make out his silhouette!

“How-”

“I'm used to working in dark spaces,” he muttered absently. “Would you really do that?”

Slightly taken aback he was considering your offer, you nodded, only to realize he couldn't see it--- actually, he probably could.

“I would. Hell, I think I could handle one uncomfortable dinner with your friend vetting me,” you added, slightly amused at the idea. When you could hear his shocked exhale and wanted to take it back. “I didn't mean to-”

“Let me come with you to your office,” he repeated like a broken record and you frowned at the sudden change of topic.

“What-”

“It could throw your boss off your back for long enough for you to deal with the complaint. If you would be comfortable enough to play my girlfriend for a dinner time, why not now?”

Your eyes went wide and you almost choked on air.

“I-what? I told you it would probably only make it worse-”

“It will work.”

“How can you be so-”

The door yanked open and your eyes were hit by an unpleasantly sharp light, making you squint.

“Holy-” a ridiculously familiar voice you couldn’t place breathed out. “Wilson! I found him! You’ve gotta see this!”

You wanted to see the owner of the voice, but your view was completely blocked by the broad chest of your companion.

So you at least raised your head to meet Steve face to face so to speak. You couldn’t see much, your eyes still adjusting; with the light shining from behind him, playing a mysterious game with his blond locks, framing his impressive figure, he looked like a freaking angel, beautiful and righteous, bringing justice, yet wrapped in an aura of peace and serenity. You barely kept your jaw from falling on the floor.

You kept staring, focusing on his face, and slowly started realizing that his features too, were familiar. Mortification was creeping up your back as the puzzle pieces started falling into place, creating a horrifying picture, making you wish for the Earth to swallow you.

The voice from behind Steve’s back resolved the last doubts you had about your temporary mysterious roommate.

“Wouldn’t peg you as a get-freaky-in-a-closet kind of guy, Capsicle.”

You wanted to immediately protest that you had definitely not been getting freaky in the closet, but your brain was still frozen because of the big revelation – that you had just been comforted, hell, that you had just offered to be a fake date to Captain America.

You simply stared at him, unbeing able to hold your jaw from falling anymore. Because– because-- oh god.

Now it made perfect sense that he thought Thomas Gregory would be intimidated… by the idea of harassing Captain America’s girlfriend. You couldn’t really blame Steve for being sure it would work. Also, it kinda explained why he called Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts their first names – they were on the first name basis.

Which really was the least relevant thing right now.

A bashful smile appeared on Steve’s lips, a little guilty perhaps, and you just… giggled at the absurdity. You couldn’t help it. You had just spent minutes in a supply closet with Steve Rogers without having a single clue about it and while you didn’t do anything heated as someone would assume, it was one of the most amazing minutes of your life.

You must have looked like an idiot or something, because he chuckled too, completely ignoring another male voice growing in volume as the newcomer approached.

“Holy hell, man! I can’t believe what I’m seeing!”

At those words, Steve tentatively took your hand with an encouraging smile and led you out to the hall. You were met with two pairs of curious eyes examining you from head to toe. You lowered your gaze, now fully aware of the fact they belonged to Tony Stark – the Iron Man – and Samuel Wilson – the Falcon.

Well. Now the ‘party story’ finally got the right juice.

“Then don’t, Sam, because it’s not what it looks like,” Steve replied to his match-maker friend and took a deep breath, squeezing your hand tighter. “Tony, this woman would like to report harassment on her workplace.”

Your head snapped to Steve’s face with panicked gaze. What the hell was he doing?!

Tony Stark made a noise of disapproval.

“Couldn’t you try harder so she wouldn’t complain about you?”

“Tony,” Steve addressed him, his voice solemn just like his expression, which clearly surprised the billionaire. “I’m serious. It’s not about me. Her boss is the reason why she was hiding here.”

Without commenting any further, Steve handed him your business card and Mr. Stark hummed. You weren’t brave enough to look up. Was he going to wave it off? Was he going to fire you?

He said your name, making you gulp in fright. You had to look up now and you really didn’t wanna, too afraid of what you’d see. You were shocked to meet with a searching gaze, but not a mean one.

“It is true? Is your boss giving you trouble? Making sexist comments? Worse?”

You felt tears in your eyes, utterly taken aback by his sensitive tone, the inviting light in his eyes. It was too much to bear and you wanted to escape the kind gaze; and he wouldn’t let you. You only managed to nod when you felt Steve’s thumb caressing the back of your hand.

Mr. Stark sighed, adding a dark ‘goddammit’, and returned Steve the business card.

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

…what?

Part 2

I know, I know, Steve is a little bit of Knight-In-Shining-Armour here, but it made sense to me O:-)

Happy weekend!

Thank you for reading!

[marauderundercover]

Jason Todd is tired. He’s tired of vigilantes and villains and dreary skies. Despite swearing to himself that he didn’t need a break, nor did he want a break, he accepted Bruce’s offer of a break (though Bruce was smart enough to not word it as a break). Instead of patrol and listening to police scanners, Jason was tasked with scouting out a location for a new branch of Wayne Enterprises in Paris. Tim was bitter that he wasn’t the one going, which just added to Jason’s excitement. If it meant pissing off the replacement, Jason would wear a pink beret, anything to piss the kid off. Grinning as he takes in the clear skies through the window of the plane, Jason can’t help but feel relaxed for the first time in a long time.

--------

So maybe Jason shouldn’t have allowed himself to feel relaxed. Because apparently, Paris has freaking supervillains that can flood the entirety of Paris without breaking a sweat.

Jason curses under his breath as he climbs higher up the fire escape, trying desperately not to look at the carnage surrounding him. The entirety of Paris, underwater. The only reason he wasn’t one of the bodies floating beneath him, was the location of his hotel room. B had insisted on Jason using the Wayne’s suite at Le Grand Paris, the one that he had bought in case of emergency trips to Paris. Not that Bruce ever made emergency trips anywhere, seeing as the bat much preferred to stay close to his own home base. Stopping on the roof, Jason pulls out his phone and dials Dick.

    “Hello?” Dick says, his confusion clear even an ocean away. Jason had made sure his brothers knew that his trip to Paris was going to be a silent one, he needed this time away from everything.

    “I know the news may look a little crazy right now, but I’m okay. Might need some Wayne Foundation trucks out here though once clean up begins. The survivors are gonna need somewhere to go-” Jason says, stopping as Dick cuts him off with a surprised noise.

    “Survivors? Little Wing, what’d you do?” He asks and Jason scoffs.

    “Just cause something bad happened, doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it Dickwad. Are there no news stations reporting this shit?” Jason asks as he glances around.

    “Reporting what? You’re kinda freaking me out-” Dick says, but Jason cuts him off.

    “Freaking you- Okay, hold on.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and snaps several pictures of the carnage surrounding him, careful not to get any of the bodies’ faces in his pictures. He sends the pictures and waits a few seconds before hearing the sharp inhale of his older brother.

    “Why are no reports coming from Paris? This is- Jason this is huge. Can you tell how many survivors there are?” Dick asks, his voice more serious than Jason had heard in awhile.

    “Not immediately. I can see people on the surrounding rooftops but-” He pauses, glancing around. “There’s not a lot of people up here Dick.”

    “You’re coming home immediately. I don’t know why B let you go across an ocean by yourself-” Dick rants. Jason rolls his eyes and prepares to respond when suddenly, a bright light flashes in the sky and waves of light rush around the city. Jason blinks and suddenly, the water is gone. And where there were bloated corpses, are now living people. Smiling and acting as if nothing serious happened.

    “What the fuck.” Jason says, and Dick immediately stops talking.

    “Jason? What’s wrong?” He asks. Wordlessly, Jason takes several more pictures and sends them, once again waiting for Dick’s response. “I- is that a current view?” He asks.

    “Uh, yeah. Some freaky lights went everywhere and all of a sudden corpses are walking around and everyone is acting like this is normal.” Jason says, pacing the roof as he tries not to freak out.

    “Monsieur?” A voice calls out timidly, Jason whirls around and his eyes widen at the girl standing in front of him, a foot shorter than him and dressed in what was obviously a hero costume.

    “Uh, hi?” Jason says, ignoring the rapid fire questions from Dick.

    “Oh, um, are you okay?” The girl asks in heavily accented English. Jason just blinks at her before glancing around.

    “What was that?” He asks, barely able to hide the horror in his voice. The girl grimaces.

    “That was an akuma, sent by Hawkmoth. You are new in Paris, yes?” She asks and he nods slowly, not sure where she’s going with this. “I am Ladybug, one of Paris’ heroes. I can explain more, but you really should get off the roof first. And try not to panic, I’ll answer what questions I can, but just stay calm.” The girl says, holding her hands up in a calming manner. Jason nods and points to his phone. She nods in understanding and pulls out a yoyo before propelling to the ground. With a yoyo. Jason blinks in surprise but goes back to his phone.

    “I swear to god Jason if you don’t say something soon I’m going to-” Dick rambles.

    “I just met one of Paris’ heroes.” Jason says, cutting Dick off and reveling in the silence he created. “I’ll call back later, she’s supposed to answer some questions for me.” Jason says before unceremoniously hanging up. Jason climbs back down the fire escape, dropping the last ten feet and landing in a crouch. He stands up and quirks an eyebrow at the look on Ladybug’s face.

    “I could have helped you, no need to almost break a bone.” She says with a frown.

    “Kid, I’m twice your weight. You might be able to swing on a yoyo, but there’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to carry me too.” He says, crossing his arms.

    “I’m not a kid, I’m uh, I’m a hero, er uh, Ladybug. I’m Ladybug.” She stammers, just solidifying in his mind that this is, in fact, a child. But he just nods, accepting that he was being a little patronizing.

    “Got it, sorry. Can you tell me why all of those corpses are just walking around now? And acting as if that was completely normal?” He asks, and Ladybug sighs.

    “Honestly, my guess is that they’re used to it by now. There was a lot of panic in the beginning, but once people realized that only made things worse...it’s better to just move forward.” She says, pursing her lips.

    “You’re all used to watching people die and come back to life?” Jason asks incredulously. Ladybug nods.

    “This all started a little over three years ago. We have to be used to this by now, otherwise people would be akumatized immediately after every battle.” She adds, and Jason frowns. Akumatized? Three years. This has been happening for over three years? Wait a minute-

    “Have you been the hero since the beginning?” Jason asks, cursing under his breath as Ladybug hesitantly nods. She glances around, watching the horizon nervously.

    “I- I’m not sure why you’re upset about this, and I’m really sorry for this, but you need to breathe. Just, try and think about something else if it upsets you.” Ladybug instructs, her gaze flitting around, occasionally falling back on Jason’s angry face before she’s once again glancing around.

    “Why the hell should I breathe? This is- this is insane! You may be a hero, but you’re still a kid. This is-” Jason freezes and blinks as Ladybug’s yoyo nearly crashes into his face, instead sucking up a little purple butterfly. Eyebrows furrowed, Jason glances at Ladybug’s face, almost immediately taken aback by the resigned look on the hero’s face.

    “This is why you should breathe. This is how Hawkmoth akumatizes you, it’s how he controls you and makes you into a villain that my partner and I will then have to battle. I understand your feelings, and it’s awful that you can’t completely feel them in Paris, but I have a feeling that you wouldn’t want to be used by a supervillain.” Ladybug explains, and Jason tenses. Stupid ass villains attacking kids who- he quickly tries to think about anything else when he sees how tired Ladybug looks.

    “Have you called for any outside help? I mean, no offense, you obviously know what you’re doing. But have you thought of calling for backup so that you can actually take a breath?” Jason asks, and Ladybug huffs before frowning.

    “We did- in the beginning. The day after the first attack, my partner and I met up and we called the Justice League. We were desperate, we knew that we needed help, training at the very least. But- the hero we talked to told us to call when there was an actual problem. As you saw with all of the water, I’m able to fix everything and return it to its state prior to the akuma attack. Anyway, by the time we could have built a case and petitioned for help, I decided it wasn’t a great idea. My partner...he’s tired too. He needs a break, so he petitions for help from time to time. But we can’t risk a member of the Justice League coming here, getting upset, and then turning into a villain. There are some akumatized people who were hard enough to beat without them having prior knowledge of combat. I- I trust my partner. But I don’t think either of us could fight against an akumatized Superman or Wonder Woman.” Ladybug explains, and Jason tries hard to avoid glancing at her shaking hands, lest he embarrass the poor kid by pointing out that she’s anxious about the whole conversation.

    “Would you be willing to accept help if it’s already currently in Paris?” Jason asks, an idea forming in his head.

    “What?” Ladybug asks, her hands no longer shaking as a shocked look flashes onto her face.

    “I’ve worked in security in some pretty intense cities. And I’ve worked as a freelance detective. If you want, I could help you and your partner.” Jason offers, only feeling slightly bad for the lies. Well, they’re not completely lies? Oh well. Not like the girl’s gonna figure that out or anything.

    “I-I would need to talk to my partner first. I don’t make these kinds of decisions without his input.” Ladybug says, and Jason nods.

    “If you and your partner agree to talk to me, I’ll be on this roof at midnight.” Jason says, and Ladybug purses her lips, but nods.

    “Thank you. Bye.” Ladybug waves, using her yoyo to swing away across Paris. Jason frowns as he watches her for a moment. Another kid brought in to fight a war that wasn’t their own. Jason curses under his breath, pushing his hair up as he takes deep breaths to calm down. Pulling out his phone, Jason dials the one number he didn’t want to contact while in Paris.

    “Hey, Replacement, listen up. I need you to do something.”

Next

[caramelcal]

his favorite club

warnings: swearing, arguing, talks of murder, gangs, use of weapons etc. don’t read if you are not comfortable with these! 

word count: 2.5k

a/n: HELLO!!!! WELCOME BACK TO THE NEXT LUKE/BAMBI POST!

thank you so much for all the love anons <3

requests: Anonymous asked:

Could you write a Luke x gang where him and the reader are fighting and maybe his arm goes up and she thinks he’s going to hit her but would never and it’s fluffy in the end?

Anonymous asked:

For the Luke x gang could you write something angsty like maybe he doesn’t come home on time like usual and y/n is really worried idk maybe goes to his place of business and it starts a big fight and the reader gets a bit scared of how mad he is? Idk you can take it in any direction.

Anonymous asked:

Loved the new Luke post. Was wondering if the next part could have some danger concerning the reader? Or maybe she sees the dangerous part of him and it scares her?

The only sound filling the apartment was the sounds of the small girl's shoes hitting off of the floor loudly, and the soft but irritating clicking of the clock that stood on the wall in front of her. It was 8:13 pm. Over an hour later than Luke had said he was going to be.

Bambi knew the dangers of the work that Luke lived in, but he had only ever been once late and even then, she had got a text explaining that he would be. Yet, this time, she never got a text, a call, nothing.

Radio silence.

Her stomach clenched up every time she thought about the possibilities of what could have happened to Luke. She wouldn't consider herself a pessimist, but she can't exactly say that she was expecting the best.

She was sure that if Luke didn't get home soon, the floor would have worn away from the amount of pacing she was doing right now. The clock continued to tick on, each movement from the small circular thing stuck on the wall bringing her more and more anxiety.

He should be home.

Maybe that's why she found herself in one of Luke's cars, somehow managing to sneak past the two members of Luke's gang that she had seen on the way down, and evading Jacob, Luke's personal driver.

In fact, Bambi hadn't driven a car since she moved in with Luke, always being driven around by either Jacob or Luke himself. It felt weird being behind a wheel again, but she didn't have time to dwell on it or soak up in the power she felt inkling into her chest before she was speeding out of the garage, onto the main highway of the city.

If Bambi was being honest, she probably broke about seven driving laws (if there were that many, probably, she thought) on the way to the club that Luke often found himself at. He never brought her there, and actually, forbid her from coming to altogether, but she knew he couldn't be too mad considering it was all about her concern about him.

From the moment she walked in, she felt out of place. Men in dark button-ups, cigarettes falling from their lips, women in minimal and sexy clothing, drinks all around. The red luminous lights of the bar being the only light provided. Her eyes scanned the area, looking for her tall boyfriend but it was really difficult.

A lot of the people in here were very tall, much taller than Bambi was, so trying to see over them was impossible. She was very out of place, alone, scared, and looked far too good to be in such a twisted club.

Somehow, she managed to make her way over to the bar, where she recognized a figure with his back turned towards her, making a cocktail. It was only seconds after when he turned around, dimpled face on display, he almost spilled the drink on him with how fast he stopped upon seeing her.

His eyes whipped around wildly around the club before walking over to her and whispering, "You shouldn't be here! Didn’t Luke forbid you from coming here? You need to leave!"

"Nice to see you too, Ash," Bambi couldn't help the sarcasm falling off of her lips before she asked, "Luke never got home. Is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine, he just got caught up with some paperwork and stuff, he should be back soon,"

"Paperwork?" She asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at the gang member.

"Well yeah, just updating a file on the drug run today just to say it went well," Ashton shrugged lightly, "he should be done soon."

Even though Ashton shrugged it off well, Bambi knew he was lying. She could feel it in her bones, in her gut, that he was lying and she was determined to find out the truth.

She shrugged lightly, "Well if it's just paperwork then he won't mind me being there."

With that, she stalked away from the bar in search of the backrooms, wasting no time for Ashton to catch up with her as she went on her way. She walked around the back hallways, looking for any indication of Luke's presence.

The rooms were silent. All but one.

"Please! I don't know anything! Stop!" It was a plead filled with both pain and desperation but it was quickly cut off with the sound of a swift but powerful hit.

Her pulse raced, legs shakily making their way towards the room, gently pushing the door open. It was silent, the door, cracking open so that the small girl could see.

Bambi felt sick.

She could see her boyfriend’s blond curls held up in a hair tie she had loaned him earlier this morning, bloody hand reaching up high as he punched the poor boy on the chair again.

“I’ll give you one more chance before I use something more than my hand,” He threatened gruffly, causing Bambi to flinch. Her breath was caught in her throat, eyes welling up in tears. She knew she shouldn’t have been so upset, she knew her boyfriend was a gang member, but something about seeing him doing this to someone with the same hands that caressed her and made her feel safe felt...wrong.

Suddenly, Ashton entered another door that entered into the room that Luke was in, alerting both Luke and Michael, who had been overlooking the situation. Only then did Bambi realize that Luke had picked up an object, it glinting in the light as he moved towards the door that Ashton had entered.

Luke was holding a knife.

A soft gasp escaped Bambi’s lips, thankfully not loud enough for Luke to hear. She didn’t want him near her, not right now anyway. She didn’t even want him to look at her.

“She’s here! You need to stop, Luke!” Bambi took that as her clear to get the hell out of there. If what Ashton said was true, about Luke being mad she was here, she didn’t want him to find her. Not anymore, anyway.

She didn’t want him to get anywhere near him. How could she possibly sleep at night knowing the man that slept beside her, that played with her hair, that made her feel safe, did that to people? What if he got so mad that he did that to her?

She was being irrational, but at that moment she couldn’t help it.

She shuffled backward, away from the door that led to the room Luke was in, choosing to swiftly get away from him now that she could.

Now, she wasn’t scared for Luke, she was scared of Luke.

“Hey kid, where are you goin'?” Calum asked as she crashed into his chest, making her stumble back lightly, mouth ajar.

She went to speak, to come up with some excuse but she didn’t have time. She couldn’t sit here and entertain Calum with a nice, little conversation when she was trying to evade her boyfriend.

That’s why she just turned, maneuvering around her, and started to run.

“Bambi!” The girl became rigid as she heard him shout, becoming increasingly aware that he had caught up to her, and was planning on talking to her. It was almost as if she was frozen in place, unable to move into the car and unable to move towards him, not that she wanted to. However, she could hear him come to a stop behind her, his voice softer as he spoke, trying not to gather any attention towards the couple, “Why are you here? I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed at the club?”

Her mouth ran dry, unable to respond. In fact, she acted as if she never heard him speak, afraid of what he would do if she pissed him off. Yet, her silence was probably the most angering thing to the tall blond boyfriend of hers, which became obvious when he spoke next.

“Bambi? Let me get you out of here, I’ll drive,” He went to grab the car keys out of her hand, but she had seen his shadow when he went to grab them, quickly jerking out of his grasp, turning around, and staring up at him.

She didn’t miss the slight shock in his eyes when she did so, or the irritancy that bubbled deep beneath. Her throat felt thick, clouded, but she quickly cleared it, voice forceful as she stared up at the gang member, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Bambi, what the hell are you talking about? Just let me drive and we can talk about this when we get home lets not cause a scene,” Luke was trying to reason with the girl, not cause a scene in front of his men, but Bambi was not having it. She wasn’t about to get into a car with him, shaking her head wildly, “Bambi.”

His tone was a warning, deep voice, cold tone. It was demanding but Bambi was not in the mood for Luke to boss her about, especially not right now.

“What? You don’t want people to realize that we’re fighting and that I’m your girlfriend, is that it?” The words were flying out of the girl’s mouth before she could stop them and Luke’s blue eyes glared down at her, his jaw ticking.

“Is this really what this is about?” Luke asked, referring to the argument they had gone through all of those weeks ago. Yet, that it isn’t. The problem was that Bambi saw something she wasn’t supposed to, that Luke had tried to shield her from as best as he could. Even if it meant that she wasn’t allowed near his favorite club.

“You nearly killed him, Luke.”

Her voice was painfully quiet, muttering in a way that makes it obvious she had to force the words out. Her fists are clenched at her sides, her eyes looking down to evade the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Bambi you don’t know what you saw-”

“You had a knife, Luke! I saw you punch him just look at your hands right now they’re-” She stopped briefly, glancing down at the man’s hands, the ones that gave her such tender, sweet love. The ones that made her feel safe, yet now? All she seen was all of the blood coating them, some dry some relatively fresh, “they’re covered in his blood.”

Luke flexed his hands slightly, feeling the blood coating them become ever so evident, “What else am I supposed to do? What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I work in a fucking gang, you knew this.”

“I didn’t think-” The girl cut herself off, shaking her head as tears rose to her eyes, shielding her view.

“What the fuck do you think I do? Hand out fucking rainbow stickers and give them a nice hug? That’s not how this works, you know this,” His voice was harsh, and slowly rising to a loud level, and all Bambi wants is to go and hide away from him; to be by herself. She can’t handle this, not right now.

“How can you expect me to be ok with this?” The girl asked, “It’s sick! It’s twisted! You could have killed that guy!”

“Don’t suddenly go getting morals just because you saw a bit of fucking blood! We’re leaving. Now,” His voice is demanding, loud and borderline shouting, his hand coming down towards her rapidly to grab the car keys off of her but then he froze at the movement from the small girl in front of him.

She flinched.

Silence filled them both.

The tears that tracked down her face started to build in his eyes, his heart dropping to his feet when he saw the girl cower. It was barely for a second when she shielded her head, in the same place he had hit that guy barely five minutes before like he was going to hit her.

He spluttered with his mouth ajar. Bambi, his Bambi, the one he had worked so hard to protect, to love, to cherish, was scared of him. He just wanted to comfort her, to hold her close and let her know that everything was going to be okay. Yet, he couldn’t comfort her that he would battle all her fears when he was what she was scared of.

“Bambi...” It was a sad plead.

The girl never replied, tears becoming thicker as she shook her head. She was overcome with emotions. Afraid, sad, ashamed, angry; she wasn’t entirely sure what she was feeling at that moment.

“Bambi I’d never...”

The girl wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Never in his whole life had Luke felt so ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he would ever let a fragment of his girl believe he would ever harm her or put her in harm’s way.

He would do everything to make sure she was okay.

“I need to go,” The girl gingerly wiped her tears with her -Luke’s- jumper, the large sleeves rolled up but still covering her hands fully. She entered the car and Luke made no move to stop her, he didn’t care that she had taken one of his cars at that moment, he didn’t care that she had disobeyed his orders of coming to the club, he didn’t care about anything other than how he had wronged her.

Then, he was left by himself, in the middle of the club’s back parking lot, blood still coating his hands that even made him feel sick now. The cold night air nipped at his skin, yet again reminding him that he was void of her warmth. He was all alone.

He returned home all of twenty minutes later, a fresh pair of clothes on and hands bare of blood. The house was quiet but he knew that she was there, the bedroom door ever so slightly ajar, a faint light emitting from the room.

He leaned against the door frame, watching her with a sullen face as she packed. She was only packing a few outfits, not anything major as she sniffed lightly. She was still crying, Luke noticed, and it made his heart ache, “I’m leaving for Anna’s. I just need some time.”

Luke knew he was in no position to argue with the girl right now. She was fragile enough as it is, and even if Luke didn’t want her to leave, she needed space and he respected that.

She slung the overnight bag over her shoulder, hefting it up, “I’ve called an Uber. They’re waiting downstairs.”

Luke nodded as Bambi stopped in front of him, and almost hesitantly, he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead, “Stay safe, ok? I love you.”

The girl nodded her head, sending the boy a tight-lipped smile before leaving, leaving Luke alone once again. Yet, despite the heartbreak, he felt in that moment as she left, he knew this wasn’t the end. He’d manage to make it up to her, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t rest easy until he did.

[erosia-rhodes]

Top 9 Newbie thoughts on Supernatural after Six Months of Madness

I started watching Supernatural a week before the series finale, and full disclosure, it was only because I heard about the gay angel. I loved me some Good Omens, so I decided to check out a series my only previous thoughts about had been, "Is that show still on?" In the past six months, I've watched about fifty percent of the episodes scattered across all fifteen seasons. I've also spent time following the bonkers-in-the-best-way fandom on Tumblr, and here is what I have learned:

1) Everyone who loves Supernatural also hates Supernatural

No one is capable of praising this show without also trashing it. Supernatural is as awful as it is awesome. Watching Supernatural is like hate-fucking your nemesis against a wall; you're totally conflicted about it, but it's enormously pleasurable and you know you're going to do it over and over again. No one has a pure, untainted love for this show. They only have complicated emotions. This is because…

2) The fact that the show needs to be fixed is an essential part of its appeal

Strangely, if this show were better, it wouldn't be as popular. If you love a show that is perfect, you watch it once or twice or thrice, make a bunch of memes, and move on with your life two years later when you find something else to hyper-fixate on. If you love a show that's broken, you spend the rest of your life obsessed with fixing it. It's the crooked photo hanging on the wall that yearns to be straightened (because, you know, this show is bad at making things straight). It's the stray dog you know would be adoptable if you fattened it up and socialized it with your other dogs, and just like some people can't stop rescuing animals, Supernatural fans can't stop thinking about how to fix a show that isn't great, but could be with a flea bath and a trip to the groomers. Supernatural fans are not fans of the actual show, but of the show they imagine it could be, one that only exists in an alternate universe. They are in love with the Platonic ideal of Supernatural. That's also the reason why…

3) The fans understand the characters and themes better than 95% of the people who worked on the show

The people who watch Supernatural have thought about it way, way, way, more than anyone who produced it. I have read complex essays about what the color of people's clothing imply and how the state of the Impala reflects the state of Dean's mental health and other things I'm certain this show did not do intentionally. People can find depth in the shallowest aspects of this series. Any random fan could explain the complicated dynamics of the Winchester family and the overriding themes of the series better than most of the people who worked on it. That includes the LGBTQ stuff, which leads to the fact that…

4) The show is simultaneously too gay and not gay enough

On one end of the spectrum are fans who are offended you would dare to suggest one of the Winchesters might like kissing a boy and they'll shove you in a locker and duct tape your butt cheeks together for it. On the other end of the spectrum are fans who think it's odd that every episode doesn't end with two attractive men dry humping in a dark corner of the bunker library. No one is happy with the level of gayness on this show. It's always got too much "No Homo" or too much queer subtext, which is why I've concluded that…

5) The audience this show wanted is not the audience they got and they are resentful of it

The original pitch for this show targeted a male demographic who’s into toxic masculinity in a non-ironic way. It was about bros and beers and muscle cars and shotguns and hot chicks who will be killed to further the man's storyline. However, when making that show, they accidentally created a show that attracted female viewers who liked speculating about the queer subtext of each scene while looking at pretty men with traumatic backstories fight back their man tears. The show depends on the unintended audience segment to survive, but is bitter about it, which they remind you of time and time again by killing the female and non-white characters and toying with endless queer-baiting. It's like the writers got a plane to Rome, ended up in a gay nightclub in Amsterdam instead, and even though the canals and tulips make it a lovely city to visit, they wanted to go to Rome, damnit, and they'll never let you forget it! I also suspect that…

6) The people who made this show were at constant war with each other

This show has such a split personality. Sometimes it leans into the gay stuff and other times it makes fun of it outright. Sometimes they'll introduce an interesting side character that could make the show more diverse and then they'll slaughter that person for practically no reason. Sometimes they praise free will and other times they force people down pre-destined paths. The writers feel like a dysfunctional family stuck at Thanksgiving dinner endlessly squabbling with each other—who then had to write a TV show together over dessert. That's why it's such a weird hot mess. The show's unevenness makes me think that…

7) Some people's attachment to the show can only be explained by the fact that it imprinted on them when they were young

Some fans have mentioned they started watching Supernatural when they were kids. It's a pretty common experience to go back and watch things you loved when you were a kid and realize they were…not so good. Your memories of them are far better than the reality of them, but you cling to them anyway. The shows you watch when you're young imprint on you in a way you never forget. Supernatural fans are like a baby duck who looks up at a cat and assumes it’s their mother. Then that cat slices open their poor little hearts, leaving them wounded but not dead, forever be toyed with in agony. The only relief is that…

8) The fandom is batshit insane in the best way

I started following the Supernatural fandom on Tumblr in November of 2020 and OMG, it was AH-MAZE-ING. It was total insanity. I didn't understand half of what was going on, but it was more fun than a yard full of puppies doing zoomies. People were posting detailed PowerPoint presentations theorizing how the series would end, citing extensive physical evidence like the background in Misha's hotel room. People learned election results through Supernatural memes. Destiel went canon every other week. When the Spanish dub was released, Tumblr literally crashed! Obama's Twitter was following a Destiel account. There was a Twitter wedding for Destiel on Valentine's Day, which made the one-month anniversary on Pi Day.

It's been a ride, y'all. I have no idea how you guys survived fifteen years of this. The fandom has been so much fun that I actually sat down and watched more than 100 hours of this show so I could understand everything better. It's like the show is an extension of the fandom instead of vice versa. If anything sums up Supernatural for me, that's it. It's all about the fandom and the show is secondary to that. It's like the fans willed the show into existence as part of some partially botched spell. And part of that twisted spell is that…

9) The show will never die until someone finds its bones and burns them

This show has been off the air for more than six months now and it keeps trending on Tumblr consistently. Misha recently trended on Twitter simply because he was at the Oscars. That was it! He didn't even do anything there, he just attended, and some people figured it out by the reflection in a photo posted by someone else! And just as I was proofreading this post, Destiel started trending again because John Cena is a stan or something? This fandom is crazy and unpredictable and I love it like Dean loves pie! If there ever does come a time when this show stops trending, that will be the moment when they decide to reboot it or revisit it.

There is a lot more I could say about this show, but these were the elements that seemed most unique and bizarre about it. I wouldn't say Supernatural is a ride-or-die fandom for me, and I have no intention of watching another 100 hours of this series, but it's been hella' fun to drop in for a while. The show is just as much a dysfunctional mess as the Winchester family and I guess that's why people love it, right?

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

[wh6res]

spectator | jeno

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet." — ljn

TW mafia au, blood, violence, mentions of prostitution and brothels, mentions of past torture, extreme power imbalance, dumbification, they used a tranquilizer

A/N first half is told in renjun's pov also this is for dino anon hehe thank u for the inspo babes!!

DISC i don't condone anything. this isn't love.

WC 1.4k

renjun was fairly new to the mafia but it didn't take him long to realize the outrageous things they considered are the norms here. one of the first things he noticed is a cute little bunny dressed in scraps that always seemed to tail jeno wherever he went. jeno was his superior, albeit they were the same age, so it sucked that renjun had to use honorifics.

oftentimes he ignores you when jeno stands before him giving orders, or when they pass by each other in the hallways and stop to exchange pleasantries.

as renjun quickly climbed the ranks thanks to his agility and cunning mind, you, unfortunately, remained in the same position—always sitting by jeno's feet like a puppy, a body, a plaything, a whore. there were rumors that the boss gave his executives a chance to pick from the litters before they're shipped off to brothels, kind of like peace offerings in exchange for their compliance.

people said the stoic, muscular young man never really indulged himself in such temporary matters. until probably two years ago, until jeno first laid his eyes on you and decided then and there you were too pretty to become a random whore in the chain of brothels the mafia owned. the petite boy believes maybe it's a disguised blessing on your part, at least you'd only have to deal with one man every night, right?

renjun can only look at you from afar, keeping in mind not to stare too openly nor too intrusively that your owner notices. he's seen the bruises. the purple and black patches of your skin and renjun never gets used to it. his stomach turning at the idea of jeno deliberately marking your skin where the oversized shirt you wear won't be able to cover. the chinese immigrant would be stupid not to notice what that meant—it's jeno's clear sign of dominance, of the severe power imbalance, and not a single man in this building can stop him from doing whatever he wants to you.

renjun managed to piece things together thanks to his naturally observant nature. jeno never punished you for what you did, he punished you because he knows he can't touch his subordinates for something measly such as bumping or staring at his whore. the young mafia executive decides to take it out on you instead, albeit the flawed logic and unfairness of it all—proof that every person in this criminal organization is fucked up in the head.

despite jeno's maltreatment, renjun never heard a single complaint from you nor can he detect a feeling of rebellion out of you. you were so eerily compliant that the chinese can't help but think of what other horrible means jeno did for you to become so broken. renjun tried thinking about it, once, but never again. he can be cruel if he wants to be, but not without purpose. not because he gets a kick out of seeing a face twisted in terror. he wasn't like jeno, who smiled and laghed after blowing someone's brain up in the mafia's torture rooms.

this is why jeno is the only man fit for the job, the reason he became an executive at such a young age—there's no man he can't break for information. renjun doesn't know what jeno does to the poor people in the torture rooms but the piercing screams are enough to decide never to go against his superior.

renjun never thought he'll live the day to hear your screams coming from one of those rooms.

"what?" he does a double-take, eyes wide and unbelieving. "what do you mean she's in there? that's her, right now?"

haechan shrugs, wincing when he hears another scream coming from inside the room. he'll never know why these rooms aren't soundproof, maybe it was a way for jeno to keep his subordinates in line—"hear that? just be grateful that's not you."—you wouldn't want to cross a man who has no moral compass. "yeah. i heard she tried to escape."

renjun doesn't like the cool, amused smirk on haechan's face as he leaned back against the door, looking like everything is okay when it's not. "heard she got like… what, ten feet? give or take—yeah, i think ten feet out the door before jaemin's men tranqed her so much she would have slept for a week."

it was easy for renjun to detach himself, disregard his own set of beliefs and sweep them all under the pretense of "it's just work, nothing personal" but with you, it felt different. he knows you. well, knows of you. it's different, personal even, when he can match a face to those gruesome, ear-shattering screams that wracked through his bones.

he wanted to help you.

renjun wanted to help you.

but no, he didn't want to get shot in the head for insubordination.

jeno manually props you against the wall, cringing at the trail of blood that stains the tiles and pools underneath you. your shirt—rather, jeno's—was soaked through with the crimson liquid, your hair sticking to the side of your head. it feels like you were burning from the inside with every breath you take.

maybe months, years, of compliance made you forgetful. after all, jeno is a man of his word, through and through. he can only threaten you so much until he snaps. maybe he deemed the swift punishments and his harsh words insufficient. but who were you kidding? with the stunt you pulled… fuck, why did you even think of making a run for it? you should've known you won't even make it across the street! stupid. stupid. stupid.

you swore never to make him angry enough to bring you back down here in the torture chambers—this is his domain, and you shivered in fear with every fleeting thought you have about what he does behind those cement walls.

the first time jeno took you down here had been granted by the boss himself (see, the man running the mafia has favorites). jeno's men held you by the arms and made you watch as he killed a poor guy with his bare hands. slowly, excruciatingly, bleeding out because of the wounds jeno inflicted with his fists alone.

the second time was because of your first escape attempt. ah, you had been so energetic back then. always talking back, snarling and cursing him out. after that second time, you've become more compliant and have thoroughly embodied whatever sick fantasy jeno had of you. his broken doll, unseeing, unthinking, who breathes and lives only because he wanted her to.

you've heard him countless times say how much he missed that energetic personality you had. but only because you knew at least then he'd think the cruel punishments are justified.

oftentimes, he'll say it when you two are alone, in his room at headquarters, too disgustingly intimate like lovers and not a whore and her owner. his cold lips leavees a sweet trail on your neck, blood-stained hands soiling your skin underneath the dirty shirt, before finally slotting himself next to you as the cot creaks with the extra weight. he reeked of sweat and metallic and his eyes hazy from that post-bloodlust high.

jeno's boots squelch when he steps closer. never crouching, he wanted you to feel that severe power imbalance between the two of you.

"i won't ask you to apologize. not when i know you don't mean it."

you don't bother to reply. not because you don't want to but because you can't, voice utterly hoarse and scratchy from screaming while jeno breaks and tears you down as if he doesn't whisper the words i love you at night. you're his lover only when he needs you to be. sad, that he rarely felt the need of a lover and more so needed a cunny to fuck.

finally, he crouches. slow and never breaking eye contact. he raises a hand to push a strand of hair away from your face probably. you flinch. he doesn't care. "jeno, please don't touch me." but he touches you anyway.

you feel the callouses in his palms as he caresses your face. the calm before the storm. the deep inhale before the plunge. jeno grabs your chin and tilts your head up, a serene smile ghosting his lips. he looked at peace. satisfied. and you have never been more scared of him than you ever did in the last four years.

"don't cry, little dove. i'm not even done yet."

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