#but sir he's an acrobat

[cartoons-n-cake]

He's just an acrobat, sir. If he sees bars he must hang upside down from them. He is instinctually drawn to playgrounds and spending time dangling from the monkey bars.

[battymommastuff]

A Night with the Knight

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

Wherever you were, it was warm. Warm, but cold at the same time. You felt safe, but you were also in danger. Maybe the danger was the freaky cult that tried recruiting you. The warmth, you came to realize was a blanket draped across your body. You'd woken up in a dark, unfamiliar place for the second time tonight. The sound of rushing water filled your ears along with the faint buzzing of the dim lights, and sounds of machines in every direction. 

This place was far too dark to be a hospital, and you were glad for that. Any public setting was the last place you wanted to be right now. The last thing you remembered was Batman hovering over you after saving you from your kidnappers. After that were faint memories from you going in and out of consciousness. The city flying by faster than it ever did, the masked face of the man who saved you, and brief images of a black tailcoat with white gloves. All of these images were taking their sweet time processing in your mind. Your entire body felt like it was hit by a train despite you having the body of an acrobat. 

Slowly, you got out of the hospital bed you were in. You wanted to find somebody. It was too quiet, and it felt like you had eyes on you at all times...which you did. Walking out of the little room you were in, you saw a massive screen that lit up the area around it. Pictures of your captors, the leader of the Court...and several members of the circus were all over the screen. You looked down to see the back of Batman's head as he typed away on the keyboard, "How are you feeling?" He asked, suddenly. You jumped then looked around. No one else was around, but how did he know you were there? You didn't make any noise. 

"A-A little sore..." You answered while closing your robe around your body more. The warmth you felt was definitely from the blanket you had when you woke. It was freezing in here, "Where am I? I figured you would drop me off at the nearest hospital and leave me there." You asked, with a small laugh at the end. Batman stopped typing on the computer and turned his chair to face you. He stood up, and you were in awe at his size. Not only was he tall, he was very well built. No wonder it was so easy for him to take down all those Court members. You felt very intimidated by his presence, but oddly attracted to it. 

"You're in the Batcave. It's too dangerous to take you into any public setting. You have knowledge of the most dangerous group in the city, the entire Court is no doubt hunting for you." Batman explained, in the most monotone voice. You already knew this, but hearing it just made it worse. Where would you go? All of your possessions, money, your life was still at the Circus. You didn't have any family that cared for you anymore, and you had nowhere safe to go. The more you thought about your life being over, the more emotional you got. It made the man in front of you highly uncomfortable to watch you break down. 

"You could have broken the bad news to her in a more gentle way. Maybe start with offering her warm clothes, Sir?" A British voice asked, followed by the sounds of footsteps coming down metal steps. You wiped your eyes quickly then looked over to see the man in the tailcoat that you saw briefly. His face was very familiar, but where? As he stepped closer, your eyes widened. This man was the butler of billionaire Bruce Wayne. You've seen him in pictures as well as on the news when Bruce Wayne made an appearance at events for the city. You looked from him to Batman, and you could tell from the uncovered parts of his face who was under the mask. It seemed that Batman also knew what you were thinking, so he lowered his mask.

"Would you like some warm clothes?" 

"Ugh...excuse him, his bedside manner is in need of work." 

You looked between the two men who just told you the one thing that the entire world wanted to know, and acted as if it wasn't a big deal. Did they trust you to keep the secret? Of course you would keep it, but how did they know they could trust you? Did they have some memory wiping device that would erase your memory after they got what they needed out of you? Judging from the tech that covered the place, it didn't seem that far fetched, "W-Why are you telling me your identity?" You finally ask after several seconds of awkward silence. 

"I'm going to move you into my manor, that I way I can monitor you as well as get information about the circus." Batman answered while turning back towards the computer. Your jaw dropped a bit. He didn't even consider if you wanted to live with him or not. Not that you were going to turn it down. The chance to live in a mansion? You'd be stupid to refuse, "I will retrieve your things later, but I will take you to buy a new wardrobe in the morning." You're going to be spoiled too? Maybe you should be thanking the Court for kidnapping you. 

"I suppose I should thank you then, Mr. Wayne." You said with a small smile. He turned towards you and gave you a small smirk. 

"Call me Bruce."

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TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl-69 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @irelanrose @asterelz @angelxx7 @millies0bsimp @marie0v @starmansirius @amberpanda99 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @inutheangel

[rayaverra]

Confessions // Luke Castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

genre: fluff.

summary: Luke finally found the courage to confess his feelings to you.

warnings: none

wc: 965

notes: I didn't know how to end this so the ending is a bit rushed.

english is not my first language, so there may be mistakes.

・❥・༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶・❥・

The first time Luke saw you was in the Big House. He was there for a counselors meeting when he saw you talking with Chiron.

"I made sure each pegasus had their hay and a fresh bucket of water. I even checked their hooves and brushed them down. Everything's shipshape in the stables!" You explained to Chiron, not noticing Luke at first.

Chiron nodded approvingly. "That's wonderful, [y/n]. Taking care of the pegasi is a big responsibility, and you handled it brilliantly. Your dedication is truly appreciated." He smiled at you, and Luke felt his heart cartwheel as your lips pulled up into a grin that he thought was the definition of beauty.

He coughed.

Chiron turned his head and nodded. "Luke, you're early. We'll start once the other counselors arrive. In the meantime, [y/n] was informing me about her stable duties. You're welcome to share your updates as well."

"No specific updates, sir. Just eager to hear about the camping trip plans and ready to contribute." He glanced at you. "I'm Luke, by the way, counselor of Cabin 11. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand, and when you took it, the warmth that flooded him was phenomenal. It was like a volcano had erupted in his heart, with lava flowing through every fiber of his being.

"I'm [y/n]. I've heard a lot about you, it's nice to finally meet you." You smiled, and Luke's heart continued to perform acrobatics.

You let go of his hand, and he immediately felt a subtle loss from your fleeting connection slipping away. You exchanged a few last words with Chiron and left the room as the rest of the councilors started arriving one by one.

Luke watched you walk until he couldn't see you anymore. He let out a sigh, turning to face Chiron, who was staring at him smugly.

He rolled his eyes, knowing that your image would grace his dreams at night until he saw you around camp again.

 

It had been three months since that day in the Big House. Since then, you had started to hang out with Luke more, met the rest of the Hermes cabin, were totally freaked out when the Stoll brothers pulled out one of their pranks on you, and Luke had finally gathered the courage to ask you out.

His face glowed when you said yes. For what seemed like the first time since Thalia's incident, Luke was happy. No, not happy. Delighted.

There weren't words to describe how he felt when he was with you. You were everything he could have ever dreamed of. He even found himself going to his half-brothers for advice.

"Hey, Chris, I need your help."

"Sure, what's up?"

"It's about [y/n]"

 

"So, what were you and Chris talking about earlier?"

You were sitting on a weathered wooden bench underneath the sprawling canopy of old pine trees nestled beside a serene lake, its waters reflecting the warm hues of the setting sun.

"What are you talking about?" He looked at you and whined. A chorus of crickets joined the symphony of nature as he avoided your gaze.

"Earlier today, you and Chris were talking, and when I showed up, you stopped." You remarked. "Is there something I should know?"

Luke sighed. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows on the forest floor. The scent of pine mingled with the aroma of the nearby campfire, creating the perfect atmosphere for what Luke had in mind. It's time, he thought to himself.

"Luke, what's wrong?" You were concerned when he took longer to reply.

"I went to Chris for advice. Advice on how to tell you something I've wanted to for a long time..." He reached to grab your hand, the volcano inside him erupting like it did every time he touched you.

"[y/n], when I'm with you, I'm this whole other person, but I'm also myself. I know it probably doesn't make sense, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I like being around you. I like the person you make me and the person you let me be." As he spoke, the weight lifted from his shoulders. "You're perfect in every way possible, and you just- you drive me crazy."

Your eyes sparkled with a mixture of surprise and joy as you absorbed his heartfelt words. A radiant smile spread across your face without you realizing it. "Luke, wh- what are you saying?" Your words echoed as a whisper and blended with the symphony of nature around you.

"I love you, [y/n]" He whispered, locking his blue eyes with yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a gentle blush crept across your cheeks. Your eyes held a soft intensity as you gazed into Luke's, overwhelmed by the sincerity of his confession.

"I love you too," you whispered, and in that moment, your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, sealing the unspoken emotions that had danced in the air.

As your lips intertwined passionately, Luke pulled you onto his lap, allowing you to encircle your arms around his neck. Your hands delved into his hair, tugging at strands that sent shivers through him. Simultaneously, his hands explored your back, encountering the fabric of your shirt like an impassable barrier. A desperate need to feel your skin lingered in the air.

His hands were still dancing across your back, making their way down to feel the exposed skin by your waistband. He delighted in the goosebumps that formed as he stroked the skin there, and he felt you pull away, looking him in the eyes.

In that moment, under the starlit sky, your shared admission marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Luke, a story filled with shared dreams and the joy of discovering love.

[wolken-himmel]

In which Jamil stumbles upon a little girl lost on campus. Saving (Y/n) from the child's pet monkey reveals something baffling.

This is their daughter from the future.

Request by @leonakingscholarship.

"Sir, kind sir! Why won't you help me?"

Jamil tried his best to ignore the squeaky voice that called out to him from behind, followed by quiet yet hurried footsteps. The courtyards were empty at such an hour where most students were already in their cosy dorms, nobody wanting to experience the chill of the night. Thus, it was only Jamil and the strange girl he had encountered a few minutes ago.

Although he had told her dozens of times that he couldn't help her with how strange her request was, she wouldn't leave him alone. Even worse, she never stopped babbling.

So, eventually, his anger boiled over and he came to a stop, whirled around, and glared daggers at her. The young girl seemed slightly taken aback and froze in shock. Her reaction caused guilt to pool in his stomach, especially when he noticed how she was shaking from the cold. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he shrugged off his blazer and wrapped it around her, feeling protective all out of a sudden — but only to a certain extent.

"Look, I'm really busy running errands. On top of that, I also have a magic history test tomorrow," he said, his voice becoming graver with every second she looked up at him with those puppy eyes. Although his heart weighed heavy in his chest, he still waved her off. "I don't have time to play tour guide for you, girlie..."

Much to his surprise, she narrowed her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips. The usually threatening gesture simply made her look adorable, especially with the oversized blazer hanging around her shoulders. Still, she continued on confidently, "First of all, I'm not 'girlie'. I have a name: Zahra! And I don't want you to be my tour guide! I want you to help me find my way back home..." A huff escaped her lips as she calmed down again. "My dad and I were just playing Mancala outside— and now I'm here..."

Jamil played his surprise off by rolling his eyes. "Really, I don't have the time... What if Kalim destroys the kitchen again?" A shudder ran down his back at his own words, and the shudder was not because of the cold wind sweeping past them.

Zahra's eyes lit up immediately. "Kalim? Oh, Uncle Kalim!" she chimed in excitement and clasped her hands together. "He would surely help me if he were here..." Then, she narrowed her eyes slyly. "Unlike you, sir."

His eyes widened in confusion at her words: Uncle Kalim? But— he wasn't able to inquire further due to the way she latched onto him, her arms wrapped around his waist. When he tried to pry her away, she wouldn't budge and instead only looked up at him with an innocent smile.

The Scarabia student saw right through her tactic, and yet he couldn't let her insult sit on him, and he couldn't stay here all night, either, arguing with her. So, he eventually exhaled in annoyance and murmured, "...alright, before anyone gets injured, I'll just handle this myself."

At once, she removed herself from his waist and began jumping up and down in utter joy. Her shiny black hair bounced out and about, forcing him to hesitantly rearrange the wild of mop of hair on her head once she was done with her acrobatics. "Thank you, sir!" she cried out and clasped her hands together tightly. "And well..." A sheepish giggle escaped her lips. "I also lost my pet monkey when I landed here..."

Jamil's eyes grew to the size of saucers, and only then did he realise to which extent he had been tricked into helping. "A pet monkey—?" he asked in disbelief.

Having a monkey as a pet wasn't exactly uncommon where he was from, but the fact that she hadn't mentioned that little fact before made him grow angry.

Zahra clasped her hands together even tighter and began jumping up and down. "I'm sorry! Abu must have been really scared..." Yet, the smile on her lips never wavered as she yelled out, "But we'll find him! I'm sure—"

Jamil quirked an eyebrow. "Are you sure that your confidence isn't misplaced?" he asked, wincing when he realised how cold he had sounded.

Unexpectedly, the girl merely waved him off instead of beginning to cry and bawl her eyes out. The glare she sent him made him shrink into himself, even. And that was before she even began explaining, "My dad always told me to be confident and give my best! I'm not gonna stand here and give up, just because of some cowardly stranger..." She crossed her arms and gave him the stink-eye from the side.

Jamil was about to open his mouth to defend himself, but was then interrupted by a shrill scream coming from somewhere nearby, followed by that very person yelling, "Ah! Get that creature off me!"

His eyes grew upon recognising that voice. "Wasn't that (Y/n) screaming?" he mumbled, more to himself than to the strange girl.

However, Zahra had already begun running into the general direction of screams, as courageous and naive as she was. A few warning splutters escaped his lips, but he gave up and chased after her when she only ignored him.

Passing through a few corridors led to the curious scene of you frantically jumping around with your hands in your hair, and Grim zooming out and about with the intention to help you, although his attempts were futile. He even gave up and sank against the cool wall, leaving you to fend for yourself. "I-I can't catch it! It's too quick..." he mumbled between deep wheezes, utterly exhausted.

Jamil stormed over to you, and without much hassle, his nimble fingers were able to grab the monkey by the scruff of its neck. "Got it," he mumbled while holding the animal into the air, far away from you.

Zahra immediately snatched the monkey out of his hold and held it close to her. "Abu! There you are!" she cried out and ran her hand through its fur, actually managing to calm it down. "Don't you dare wander off again, you little mischievous monkey..."

A frustrated cry escaped your lips as you tried your best to fix your hair and clothing, Jamil timidly helping you. "So that monkey belongs to you!" You narrowed your eyes at the monkey when it stuck its tongue out at you. "Why do you even have one?" you seethed out, still glaring at the mischievous culprit.

"Uncle Ace gifted him to me for my first birthday And ever since, Abu has been my best friend! Aside from my dad and mom, of course."

Your tired eyes gazed at her distantly, your brain barely even comprehending what she had just said. Eventually, you just grabbed Grim, who had fallen asleep by then, and dragged him away into the distance. "...alright, let's just leave. I'm tired," you muttered under your breath without even turning around. "Goodbye, you guys..." With that, you disappeared behind a corner.

"How funny!" Zahra exclaimed and clapped her hands together, Abu imitating her as well. "That girl looked exactly like Mom in the pictures from back then..."

That was enough to confirm Jamil's suspicions, and his face grew sickly pale upon realising the truth. He could barely even force a gulp down some air before he turned away from Zahra and buried his face in his hands. "I think I need to lay down for a little bit," he muttered and began walking away mindlessly.

"Wait!" she yelled and ran after him. "Not before I've found my dad!"

Jamil exhaled in confusion. "You've found him already..."

[thecouchshifter]

Hazbin Hotel NSFT HCs

Husker

He’s a service top and probably the biggest on checking boundaries and aftercare, like more than Charlie and Vaggie. His biggest priority is making sure whoever he’s with has a good and safe time. He’s got experience and he knows how to make anyone feel good. Also whenever someone calls him a manlet he will remind them that height doesn’t matter when you’ve got them on their knees anyway.

Charlie and Vaggie

Put them as a duo because who else are they boning? As a general note, they’re both switches and Charlie is the more experienced one of the two, though mostly with men. They’re generally pretty vanilla but have some light kinks and sometimes do some roleplay.

Vaggie loves a good strap, pulling Charlie’s hair, and biting when topping/domming and has a fucking insane praise kink when bottoming/subbing. Also likes the fact Charlie is taller than her in both (shadow of the colossus type shit or being absolutely towered over). Uses princess or doll to refer to Charlie while domming and generally uses ma’am or my queen while subbing.

Charlie is super soft and romantic when topping/domming and absolutely has to touch and kiss everywhere. When subbing/bottoming, she likes some soft under the bed restraints, maybe a blindfold every once in a while, and has a bit of a mommy kink. Either way she likes setting the scene with some candles and flower petals because she’s extra like that. Has a big praise kink too that goes both ways. Uses sweetheart and more recently little angel when domming to refer to Vaggie and when subbing pretty much exclusively uses mommy. Has one very pretty old school lingerie set that she will whip out when she really wants to impress Vaggie.

Nifty

There’s no polite way to say it, she’s a fucking freak. Doesn’t matter how you do it she’s gonna do some crazy shit to you or ask you to do some crazy shit to her. Crazy on masochism and sadism in particular. 90% of the bad boys she plays with get scared after the first time and she quickly loses interest after that. Such is the way of Nifty.

Sir Pentious

He prefers romance to sex but if it helps him bond with a partner he’ll do it. Sadly, nobody has actually stayed with him past the first date before. He’s a hopeless romantic but hopes one day he’ll find someone who loves him for him. If he did bone, he’d be really awkward about it and not really know what he was doing but inconceivably keep falling upward and in the end do a really good job. After the fact he’d need a solid 20 minutes to recover while just laying there in shock before thanking his partner profusely.

Cherri Bomb

She has fucked a lot of ways and is generally open to trying anything. Has a few utterly bizarre kinks and fetishes. Not even particularly disturbing just very oddly specific. Like fleshlight between the legs while a replica dildo of her partner’s dick fucks her and their real dick fucks the fleshlight type strange.

Angel Dust

I mean sure he’s down for pretty much anything but slow, romantic, vanilla sex is his fucking kryptonite. He doesn’t get it in the studio or god forbid with Val, so when he does he’s surprised for a minute before he gets completely lost in his partner’s eyes. Don’t get me wrong he loves kinky shit, especially bondage, but getting back to basics is such a treat for him. Very into body worship for a similar reason. Boy just wants to feel loved. Has a set of lingerie for every occasion

Alastor

“Ha! No.”

Vox likes to think of him as a massive sub tho.

Lucifer

He’s a switch that will absolutely commit to the bit if he’s doing any kind of roleplay or D/S stuff. This man is a grade A actor to the point where Lilith was worried on several occasions as to if he was possessed. He has had millennia to perfect his technique and you will find no soul in hell bar maybe Asmodeus who knows how to use all the tools at his disposal better than him. Has a bit of a ringmaster/circus fantasy and has referred to Lilith as his little acrobat multiple times. Lilith also gets a bit worried when Lucifer is horny because it usually means he hasn’t taken his depression meds. Calls Lilith goddess a lot too.

[satoruzlove]

with your anniversary coming up soon, your lovely husband has decided to take the ropes and plan you a lovely day. breakfast in bed, the spa, an afternoon at a tea garden- all to be finished off at dinner and a night that would be nothing less than acrobatic.

it’s the least he can do for you- his beautiful partner of 5 years. you’re always so good to him, so kind, bringing out the best in him and making him smile. you’re his best friend,his co-pilot, his save haven, his everything. he can’t help but want to throw his money, time and love at you. you’re just too perfect not to.

you happened to be at home, getting ready to get your nails done as you hear him walk past your shared room on the phone. your ears perk up, head peeping out the door frame. the phone is on speaker, held a little bit from his face and his eyebrows knitted together slightly. his pretty, soft lips in a pout. your heart melted a little, a lovesick smile on your face.

“sir, there’s a booking with these same treatments on it by someone under a different name-” the receptionist doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into as he interjects.

“yes, that’s my wife, actually!”

“but sir-”

“yes! she’s my wife! we’re coming in together!”

“sir, that’s wonderful but-”

“that’s my spouse! we’re married; my wife!”

“YES SIR! we know. i know. you have the same last name.”

you laugh, shaking your head and his head snaps to you before a lovesick grin spreads onto it. he offers you a toddler-like wave with his free hand. you take the phone from his hand, successfully earning a whine from him but he allows you to complete the booking. you apologise profusely for his antics, and the receptionist waves you off although she sounds absolutely exhausted. as you put his phone into his pocket, he places a kiss onto your lips, “but you said i could handle everything, baby. so mean.” he pouts, hands slithering around your hips to pull you impossibly closer. you smile, shaking your head fondly and holding onto his cheeks. “you were so excited to tell her that we’re married that you didn’t even let her speak, i had to. you would’ve been here all day.

he smiles widely, “well yeah, baby,” he starts, “you’d do the same if you were the luckiest guy in the world.”

hq!! : atsumu miya!!!!!!!, kuroo tetsuro, bokuto koutarou, hinata shouyo, oikawa tooru, SUNA RINTARO!!!!

jjk: yuji itadori, gojo satoru!!!

tr: manjiro sano!!!!! takemichi hanagaki!!! shinichiro sano!!!!!!! ran haitani!!!! chifuyu matsuno!! BAJI KEISUKEEEEE!!!!!!

genshin: kaeya alberich, arataki itto!!!!!

-

this is a stupid drabble inspired by my father being obnoxiously happy to be married to my mother while booking the spa for my mum!! enjoy my beautiful loves

[sylvemooniet]

Dead Little Bird

Word count: 4,078 words

Centric: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd (father/son relation)

Trigger warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical death

Summary: which Bruce isn't Batman, but his children are still Robins.

Bruce was familiar with the "Robin" codename so many kids used to fight crime on their own. He already has met Dick Grayson, the little acrobatic orphan, so determined to protect the kids from bullies.

Dick was sometimes aggressive, Bruce couldn't say the contrary. He was surprised by how violently Robin beat the Wayne's kidnappers. Bruce couldn't blame him, that kid was an orphan, he needed to unleash his anger on something.

Many people didn't know how the famous billionaire playboy had soft spots for kids, especially orphans. After all, he was an orphan himself.

No one suspected a thing when the great Philanthropist adopted such a "poor helpless kid" like the little Grayson. It was funny how people theorized that the new Wayne was actually dating the mysterious Robin.

And still no one suspected when a new vigilante appeared on Bludhaven the same time the young Wayne moved away. Bruce was "alone" again. Even if he had Alfred, he missed his little Robin, but he was still proud of his Nightwing.

Then, there was a new kid. A new Robin. Such a bright smile and a great attitude, along with a fighting style obviously coming from the streets. The first time they met, he said to Bruce:

"Am I your new bodyguard now, old man?"

Wayne's memory of that day was clear as crystal, he remembers the boy headbutted one of the billionaire's kidnappers when saying that. That kid had a spark on his eyes, the spark Bruce already saw, on himself.

When the new Robin appeared in Bruce's life, the media joked about the philanthropist being a magnet to the vigilante children. And well, they weren't exactly wrong.

Besides Dick quickly revealing his identity to Bruce, it wasn't the same situation with the new kid. He even asked Alfred to do a research in all Gotham City's orphanages to find out more about the boy, but there was nothing, there was no one who looked like the new Robin. Bruce forgot the kid wasn't like Grayson, maybe he had parents, but would they really let a twelve-years-old fight crime?

Wayne offered the boy a decent Robin uniform, hence the kid's one was just dirty and fragile clothes that wouldn't help him fight crime. But the kid refused without thinking twice.

"I don't need your charity, old man. I know how to take care of myself."

The various scars on the kid's body proved he was lying. Even with the optimistic attitude and strength, there was still a truth: no Robin lasts too long.

Grayson was quite lucky, he became popular, he had support, he had Bruce. Dick was one of the only Robins who could grow up to be a better hero. It wasn't rare to see in the news about the police finding a body of a kid wearing red and green with a poorly sewed R brand.

And Bruce didn't want to see such a determined kid dead. But one night, he was just leaving a party, when he saw the kid fighting some thugs like always, but the boy obviously didn't have any advantage. Wayne's bodyguards got into action as he ordered, helping the little boy to win the fight.

But he was already unconscious. His small body was completely bruised, a reminder of a child who's already a soldier. It was unfair of a kid fighting against grown adults.

"Sir, he's still breathing."

So Bruce brought him home. It surprised Alfred to see him carrying a child in his arms again, he hadn't seen a scene like that since Dick had grown up.

When Grayson paid a visit in the next morning, he didn't expect to see a new Robin kid at the Wayne Manor. The butler told him about the last night, about how Bruce found him barely alive.

And the little boy was surprised when he woke up in a strange bed, in a strange room, with the billionaire old man he liked to provoke.

"Uhh, do you collect children or something?"

It was the first thing he said to Bruce when he woke up. He was still wearing his bloody clothes, but there was Dick's old clothes on the nightstand for him.

"Wasn't I supposed to be your bodyguard, old man? Not the contrary."

He tried to get off of the bed, but even after Alfred taking care of his wounds, it still hurt. Then, he just leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. His temper was obviously different from Dick's, and he was way more stubborn.

"What's your name, kid?"

Bruce asked once again, even if everytime the answer was the same.

"None of your business."

And the boy wouldn't change his reply so easily.

"Listen to me, I really need your name, and your parents' phone number, they must be worried about you."

For some reason, that made the kid chuckle like it was a really bad joke.

"I'm Jason. Jason Todd. And my parents aren't exactly available, y'know?"

"... What do you mean?"

Bruce already expected an answer coming from Jason. But if he really was an orphan, why Alfred didn't find anything about him while searching?

"Well, old man, my parents are pretty much dead."

"But, but… I made searches about you, you aren't in any orphanage or foster system. Is there anyone who's taking care of you?"

"As I said before, I can take care of myself, old man."

"But you're a child."

"Wrong, I'm a Robin."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, not even Grayson was that stubborn, but still, he wasn't Grayson, he was Todd.

"Why were you fighting so many people? They were double your size and clearly on advantage against you."

"They were stopping me from reaching my goal."

"And what is it?"

For a moment, Jason looked at him like what he truly was, a lost kid. Then, he looked away, almost like he was holding his tears, hiding them from Bruce and himself. He needed to be strong, like a real Robin.

"It doesn't matter, alright? Thanks for saving me or whatever, but I can just go now."

"Where do you live?"

"What are you? A stalker?"

Jason replied quickly, being extremely defensive.

"Jason, you said your parents are dead, where do you live? And with who?"

"Nowhere, and with no one. I'm no one's son."

"You're a kid, you can't just live on the streets."

Bruce said, his voice getting more soft as he tried to gain Jason's trust.

"Am I your new charity project, old man? Will you adopt me just like you did with the other Robin?"

Dick was spying the conversation through the slightly open door, but he backed away when Jason mentioned him. The boy was smart enough to connect the dots between Dick Grayson-Wayne and the acrobatic boy wonder.

"Listen to me, Jason. You at least need a place to live, and I need to compensate for the times you saved me."

"I don't need your help."

Jason tried to get out of the bed once again, but his body was shaking, still weak. He looked like a helpless kid, and he hated that.

"Jason, please, at least let me pay you a place to live. I know being Robin doesn't pay you."

"... Fine. But remember, you're not my father, and I'm not your trophy son."

==========

Kids were supposed to be easy to deal with. But as Jason stated various times, he wasn't a kid, he was a Robin, and being Robin gave him magic.

Both Alfred and Dick were surprised when Bruce told them he bought an apartment for a "random kid". Jason wasn't a random kid to him… Even if they weren't actually close to each other.

There was a kind of new routine in the Wayne Manor, at least once a week the little Robin came to ask Alfred to help him with the worst wounds he got and couldn't patch them himself. And sometimes he also came to return Bruce back to safety after another attempt of criminals to kidnap Bruce.

"You need to learn how to take care of yourself, old man."

Jason joked, wiping the blood out of his nose, he smiled, even after being hurt because of another fight. He was used to it, and not for just being Robin. But it wasn't a problem anymore, he had his Robin's magic.

And if Bruce was lucky enough, the little Todd would come by for dinner. He was hard to convince, but he still enjoyed being with Bruce, Alfred and sometimes, Dick.

And in an "unfortunate night", according to Jason, Grayson made up a nickname for him, and never stopped using it. "Little Wing", it was how he called the boy.

"When I get older, I'll be taller than you. You'll see who's the little one!"

That just made Dick laugh at him, he said Jason looked cute when he tried to threaten someone, and Alfred hid the knives just to guarantee the boy wouldn't take extreme measures.

Bruce thought of Dick as a reflection of himself, but Jason was unique. The boy wasn't like any of the Waynes, he was in fact a Todd, he was not part of the family.

Grayson and him were Robins, but they were different. Even when Dick was violent, it doesn't compare to how bruised the pimps Jason fought were. The news said this Boy Wonder was crazy, aggressive, the worst Robin Gotham City ever had.

"I can't wait to find this kid dead in a dark alley."

It was what Jason overheard from a cop another day. Once the policeman and the young vigilante met again, the man had an "accident" during work that broke his arm.

Alfred noticed the little boy was smiling a lot during dinner that day, even more than usual. And the butler knew that smile, a smile of a child who just did a mischievous thing.

"Master Jason, did you have a lot of fun today?"

"A lot, Alfred."

One day, a body was found under a balcony, it was presumed the man was pushed to his death. And on that balcony, there was Robin, the possible culprit. And people accused a child of murder.

"I didn't kill him! And what if I did? He literally violated a woman!"

Jason tried to justify himself to Bruce, who was worried about the boy, as he was needing to hide himself, afraid of getting arrested.

"Jason, you can trust me, have you done it?"

Wayne asked him with a soft tone, trying to comfort the little boy. He tried to reach his hand to touch Jason's shoulder, but he stepped back.

"Bruce, do you really think I'm a murderer!?"

The man didn't answer, and Jason felt his heart breaking, the boy thought he could finally trust someone. But he was still seen as a criminal, even to the person he thought… The person he thought could be a new father to him.

"Jason… I…"

Bruce stopped himself, as he noticed something. The Robin was crying, and he was actually being a child, not a hero. A child in despair to be trusted.

"Jason… I'm…"

He didn't let Wayne finish, he just ran away out of the manor. And Bruce didn't stop him. He broke the boy's trust, and he didn't deserve to say anything to him.

Bruce tried to be the father of a no one's son. And nobody is surprised he failed. The Wayne Manor isn't supposed to be a place for kids like Jason, who fought fate itself to survive.

But, a week later, the investigation stopped, Robin was no longer a suspect. It was very sudden, but the detectives with a new big quantity of money in their pockets wouldn't justify it.

And in the same night the investigations stopped. In the same rainy night, the window of the Wayne Manor was opened by an "intruder", who noticed the great Philanthropist on the couch, like he was waiting for someone.

The little "intruder" sat down with him, his head leaned on his shoulder. Bruce caressed the boy's soaked hair, which startled him a little bit, but he slowly gave in.

"I'm sorry, Jason."

Despite Bruce's morals, his codes, the laws. He would do anything for his sons, no matter what. And Jason knew that, and he finally felt safe.

==========

Jason spent his fourteenth and fifteenth birthday with the Waynes, and even if he didn't say it, he wanted to spend all his birthdays with them.

It didn't matter if the boy wasn't in the charity galas like Dick was. It didn't matter if he didn't show himself publicly as a Wayne. Bruce saw Jason as his little bird, as his son.

And Bruce was really proud of his son. Like Grayson, he was a hero. He watched how Todd was growing up, how he was growing better, and he was a hero Bruce could never be.

The Robin was always around in the manor, even if he wouldn't easily admit, he felt at home. All the dinners, the sleepovers, the movie nights, it felt like home. He finally had a home to come back to by the end of the day.

Bruce would make a surprise for Jason, finally getting the paperwork to adopt the little bird, to finally call him "son". It would be a surprise gift, right after him coming back from patrol as Robin.

Wayne waited excited, he knew Todd would be equally happy. He was so proud of what he became, and will be more proud when he finally can call this hero his son.

It was already late, and he still didn't come back. He tried calling him, hoping he just went directly to his apartment that night, it would be understandable, but nobody picked up the phone.

Bruce turned on the television, maybe Jason was late because he was in the middle of a big situation. It already happened sometimes, so it wouldn't be different from those times. But all that he heard was nothing about one of the Robins.

But Jason, he only heard the sound of his ribs breaking after yet another hit with that crowbar. His vision was completely blurry, and it was so hard to breathe. He looked over the woman that smoked while he was in pain.

Jason never told Bruce about how he was searching for his biological mother, just Alfred was helping him secretly, and he made the butler promise he wouldn't tell anyone.

But the little Robin didn't expect his mother to be a backstabber, and in that exact moment, the metal hit his back, breaking even more ribs. Then, he heard laughter.

The laughter of a maniac clown, the one who was enjoying so much causing pain to him. Sometimes he even joked about it, like it was the most funny thing to watch.

"Uh oh, the little bird got a broken wing, maybe your mommy could help you… Oops!"

Then, more laughter followed by another hit that made his eyes water again. Jason was feeling so weak, feeling the cold floor and his own blood accumulating under him.

"D-dad…"

Jason cried out, his voice hoarse and weak. That brought his mother's attention, she knew Willis Todd was dead. But that wasn't the father her son was calling for. He was calling for Bruce, even if he wasn't a vigilante like him, even if he couldn't fight anyone.

Jason just wanted to be in his father's arms again, even if he's dying. He just wanted to be home again.

"Awn, look! Little bird is calling for daddy. What a pity!"

He sobbed in silence, he couldn't give that clown the happiness for breaking him. Jason was broken, very broken, but still, he shouldn't cry, Bruce would probably be disappointed at him.

If his biological mother betrayed him, backstabbed him without thinking twice, Bruce would never save him, even if he knew about his current situation.

The boy's mind became foggy, probably because of so many times his head got hit by that fucking crowbar. The psychopath clown wasn't there anymore, but his mother was tied up. His only memories were of untying her, and a ticking sound, then, nothing.

Bruce found himself awake until very late, even if his mind felt asleep, it woke up, and unfortunately, to the sound of Vicki Vale's voice.

"... A sudden explosion occurred in a warehouse in Gotham City's south area. The GCPD is investigating what might have caused it."

The camera showed a lot of rubble, and various policemen around the area, searching for clues and possible bodies. And they found it.

"Attention! The police just found the body of a child!"

Bruce became startled, his heart was getting tight on his chest, and the tears were ready to come. And when the camera zoomed to a very familiar boy's body, he felt broken.

He didn't get any time for any other type of reaction, his emotions were taking total control of him, Bruce was no longer acting rational. Minutes later, he was exiting the car right in front of the crime scene.

"I can't believe it, Mister Wayne! What are you doing here!?"

And similar reactions were heard by him, but completely ignored as he walked towards his son's body, which was being taken by the police.

"Mister Wayne, you shouldn't come closer, this is a crime scene."

They tried to stop Wayne, but they failed, as he got Jason's limp body in his arms. The boy was already so cold, his eyes still open, all the blue going away. The blood was still wet, staining Bruce's clothes, but he didn't care.

His little bird was dead. His son was dead. Bruce thought the pain of his parents' death was unbearable, but he never thought he would have his son's body in his arms, so cold, so lifeless.

Bruce carefully closed the corpse's eyes, so it looked like the boy was just sleeping, but he knew he wasn't. He held his son tighter to his chest, and screamed. His screams were so painful, as his heart was completely shattered.

Alfred made sure the police and the media wouldn't talk about that moment. And the butler also made sure the boy would be buried with the Waynes, as he should be.

Jason wasn't as lucky as Dick, he wasn't an exception. His end was just like the other Robins. Dead, found brutally killed.

Grayson really wanted to see Jason grow up to prove he wasn't his Little Wing anymore. Grayson wished he could call his little brother his Big Wing.

Alfred really wanted to see Jason's mischievous smile once again. Alfred wished he could bake Jason's sixteenth birthday cake.

Bruce really wished he could have saved Jason. Bruce really wished he could see Jason's smile again. Bruce really wished to hear Jason calling him old man again.

Bruce wanted his little bird back.

==========

Both the media and the GCPD didn't want to admit it, but Gotham got worse after Jason's death. He was one of the best Robins the city ever had.

Dick spent more time in Gotham since that, to act both as Nightwing and comfort Bruce. Wayne needed his son to be with him, and even if Grayson wasn't the son he wanted, he wanted to make his father happy.

They just didn't expect to find Bruce's neighbor inside of the manor, wearing a Robin costume, while having the worst dark bags under his eyes.

Somehow, the little boy knew about the relation Bruce had with the Robins, he knew about Dick and also knew about Jason. The Waynes started to think that kid was a stalker.

The boy was Timothy Drake, who was clearly obsessed with the Robin concept, and the fact the most important Robins of the city were his neighbors, it made him very excited. Even if one was gone.

"C'mon, Bruce, could you resist this kid puppy's eyes?"

Somehow, Dick convinced the philanthropist to not report the kid to his parents, or even to the police. And Tim's parents didn't seem to care about his safety, since he was just running around as Robin without them worrying about him.

And the story repeated itself, with Bruce having another Robin under his wing. He expected the story would go differently, and he wouldn't need to hold his son's body again.

The years were going through, and still, every single day Bruce had visited Jason's grave, but still, he wasn't in the moment his son dug out of his own grave.

It wasn't a surprise when the philanthropist was once again kidnapped, criminals really liked abducting rich people. But he wasn't in panic, it was just like another Saturday, and he was just waiting for Tim to show up.

But it wasn't a Robin who showed up. A person with a red helmet entered the room, and even if Bruce nor the criminals could see his face, they knew he was pissed.

"You idiots can't do a thing right, I told you to not get him. You should give me a reason to not explode your heads right now."

The mysterious man said, and Bruce could feel some familiarity in his voice. The criminals didn't even dare to blink in the wrong moment, obviously scared by their leader.

"You should all go, and if any of you try eavesdropping, I'll cut your ears off."

They all exited immediately, even Wayne was scared by his attitude. And for some reason, he was freeing him from the restraints. That was a very different kind of mob boss.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, old man. I don't hurt you and you don't call those pigs, are we good?"

Bruce looked at him suspiciously, everything was so familiar, but he couldn't point it out.

"Also, don't call your bird boys, do you hear me?"

"You mean the Robins?"

"Exactly, old man. You keep collecting them, apparently. So, just leave, call your butler to take you or whatever."

"Why are you just letting me go?"

"Damn, how ungrateful of you. It's because you're not a bad rich person, if you were some like, I don't know, Lex Luthor, you'd be already dead."

"... Thanks."

"Just go already."

And when Bruce left the building, he almost immediately found Tim, who was in his Robin uniform. If Jason was alive, he would feel replaced.

Days later, the news was just about the infamous Red Hood, who was cleaning up the streets from crime, while staining them with blood.

And still, somehow, the Red Hood and Bruce kept meeting, as criminals still tried to steal from him. And for some reason, a mob boss was determined to protect him.

"Am I your new bodyguard now, old man?"

That phrase, those exact words, they were so familiar, it reminded him of his son. But if Jason was alive, he would think he was forgotten.

"Do I… Do I know you?"

Bruce asked, searching for eye contact even if the man hid his face behind that helmet.

"I saved your ass sometimes. Geez, old man, have you already forgotten? Most of the time, people don't forget about a man with a red helmet."

"No, it's not it. I feel like we've met before. Before all this."

If Jason was alive, he would think his father just moved on after his death.

"What if we did meet? Does something change?"

"You… You remind me of my son."

"Your… Son?"

If Jason was alive, he would have thought his death was meaningless to Bruce, or to anyone.

"My son, Jason."

And he was alive. The Red Hood removed his helmet, revealing the face Bruce missed seeing. Jason was older, but it was still him, even if he was changed. It was still his son.

Bruce was in complete shock as he tried to process the information his son was alive. Jason thought his father would back down, run away from the pain, he must have done the same when he was dead, right?

But Bruce's arms were wrapped around him, hugging him tightly, like he was afraid he would lose his son again. Jason gasped in surprise, but returned the hug. He thought his dad forgot about him, but he didn't.

Wayne cried on his shoulder, and he noticed how tall his son got. He was his little bird, but he was so big now, completely grown up.

"Bruce…"

"I missed you, little bird, I missed you so much."

[theangrycomet-art]

Sonic Underground Reprise: Sir Julius Hedgehog

Aleena's late husband and “precious Jewel”

Notes (too many thoughts on the dead(?) hog)

terrible at directions- he could get lost in an overly large sweater

laid back, it takes a lot to get him riled up

middle child (Chuck being the oldest with Paulie being the youngest, with roughly 6 years between each of them)

grew up greatly admiring his older brother and Chuck moving out for college played in part to him running away

he ran away from home to join the circus when he was 13

learned a lot of weird skills as a result: sleight of hand, animal taming, knife throwing, knife dodging, sword swallowing, aerial silk as and acrobatics just to name a few

he stayed with them until he as 17 when the troupe was wrongfully arrested and he was forcibly enlisted into the army for 3 years before Chuck managed to bail him out and get him and his buddy a new job with the Royal guard

met Aleena when he crashed full speed into a fountain testing a "borrowed" hoverboard model from Chuck's lab with Argus, making her laugh

instantly smitten, he made it a personally mission of his to make her laugh as much as possible

he put his clowning to good use

was captured during the raid of Mobotropolis distracting Robotnik’s troupes away from his fleeing family

was the first mobian to be Robotocized

the event was greatly publicized so that the public knew what painful fate awaited them should they dare to defy him

Robian!Jules is prone to malfunctions to due lack of maintainence

he is used to track/hunt down Aleena

[mac-cheez]

My Guide to Surviving the Waynes

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally finished the ending!! Don't expect an update soon I have no idea when the fancy will strike again and the TMA brain rot is real rn.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

---------------------------------------------------------

Dear Diary,

I was wrong. SO WRONG. You’d think rich people, especially adopted rich people, would be at least a little sane, but no, they’re not and I have no idea how to deal. It’s only been a couple days since my last entry and so much has happened. So here’s what I’ve learned:

Let’s start with the first incident that happened roughly 10 min after my last entry. I had just finished when Tim offered to meet me in the coffee shop outside of the library (he was picking me up from campus)(Alfred was busy). When I walked in I saw him about to order and walked to the side to wait. He looked at the menu for roughly 0.2 sec before looking the barista dead in the eye saying “I’ll have a Vanilla Cold Brew with seven shots of espresso.”

The barista laughed and joked “Damn you want some cocaine with that?” Then he just said, “Sure that too.” and fucking walked away? He didn’t even give his name he just paid and went straight to the pickup area. The most concerning part of that story is that they fucking did it! And he drank the whole goddamn thing without batting an eye! I was highly concerned for his well-being the entire drive home. (I really need to talk to Mr. Wayne about a rental)

What’s even weirder is when we walked into the manor Dick was just hanging from the chandelier. It was sans rope and more acrobatic, but still concerning considering how tall the ceiling was. I’m still not entirely sure how he got up there, but I just walked away hoping to find my sanity once again.

The rest of the day went relatively smoothly with the normal amount of yelling and death threats (still can’t believe this is reality). The next day something actually nice happened while I was off from college and heading to the kitchen for lunch. It was a Friday so most of the house was either at work or school, and it was pretty quiet (thank god). When I walked in one of the others was in there cooking already (Jason I think?). I decided on a sandwich since he was currently using the stove and it was going smoothly till I got to the pickle jar. For whatever reason that thing was tight as hell and was going nowhere. He looked at me and after my fifth try (and many curse words) he held out his hand. I handed the jar to him, and he opened it without trouble.

“I loosened it,” I said trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Uh-huh,” he said distractedly. We sat in awkward silence till I noticed one of the books from the library on the counter. It was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Sign Of The Four. I asked if he was reading it and he said yes. I asked him if he’s gotten to the twist yet and he looked at me puzzled.

“You’ve read The Sign Of The Four?”

“Yeah, not my favorite Sherlock Holmes Novel, but still good nonetheless,” I said not paying attention, “Are you reading unabridged or abridged?”

“Unabridged,” he said, “you into the classics?”

“Totally, I love a good Victorian mystery or gothic horror novel,” I replied.

“You?” I asked.

“More of a Jane Austen fan myself, but I can respect those choices,” he said thoughtfully.

“I’ve never read her works, but if I have a chance I wouldn’t mind trying,” I said. He looked up at me somewhere between excitement and bewilderment.

“Would you like some recommendations?” He said cautiously. I said sure, and he immediately went into a long speech about Jane Austen and her novels. By the time he was done my sandwich and his ramen were long gone. By the end, I had a list of books to read and a new reading buddy to rant about books to. We’ve hung out intermittently since then, and honestly, it was the sanest thing I did all week. However the sanity didn’t last long.

Many other incidents (too many to write) all culminated in this afternoon, when I finally caved and decided if this was my life, it might as well be documented for (at the very least) the enjoyment of others. It was fairly quiet (first clue) and my morning class had been canceled so I was just sitting in the living room doing some work. Everyone else was out and I was about to leave for my 2:30 class when suddenly someone smashed through the window and a smoke bomb was thrown. I honestly thought it was Tim or Jason being weird again, but then the smoke cleared and there was just a bunch of dudes in Green suits with question marks. They looked around and saw me pretty quickly and immediately pointed whatever weapons they had at me. Eventually, some other ones came in the room and said the house was empty and “Wayne is nowhere to be found.” They started arguing till they finally concluded that if none of the Wayne’s were here, I must be the next best thing. Honestly, I can’t even blame them, and at this point I just let it happen.

They put a bag over my head and put me over the strongest one’s shoulder. I was in a car for about an hour before I was potato sack’d again. Once I was placed down, the bag was taken off my head, and I saw that I was in an abandoned-looking warehouse. I saw some more of the brightly clothed men off to the side arguing, one looking even more ridiculous than the others. The extra ridiculous one finally gave up talking to the others(henchmen maybe?) and walked (more like strutted) over to address me.

“Hello guest of Wayne, may I ask your name?” He asked rhyming for some weird ass reason.

“Vic?”

“Ah yes but what is it’s whole, for a half shall not know?” He said lilting his voice… ‘whimsically’?

“What?”

“Your designation that all might know.”

I just continued looking at him with apparent confusion not knowing what the hell is going on. After a minute he hung his head and spoke normally.

“What is your full name?” He sighed.

“Oh! Victoria Blanc,” I said.

“Ah! And what is your relation to the name of Wayne?” He said trying again with the talking in circles bull.

“Look dude usually I could appreciate….. Whatever it is that's happening, but I’ve had one hell of a week so…….”

“Oh come now it couldn’t have been that bad.” He said dismissively.

“Alright bet! You might wanna sit down this is gonna take a minute.”

Once he sat I started explaining everything that had happened since I’d moved to Gotham. As I was explaining more and more of the “henchmen” started joining the crowd.

“He chased him through the manor with a sword?” Riddler asked (at least that's what one of the others called him).

“Yeah, and apparently this is a normal phenomenon,” I said exasperated.

“And here I thought I was crazy.”

“Oh, no this is probably the most sane thing that's happened to me all week,” I said hand waving (They untied me after a while)(I asked nicely).

I was about to continue when suddenly three figures jumped down and got into fighting positions.

“Let her go Riddler!” Said the one in Black and blue(and maybe a bird?)

“Oh, she was free to leave a while ago.” He said casually to the masked people.

“What?” said the one in red.

“Yeah, we even offered to get her away from that mad house,” said Bob.

“Mad House?”

“Yes, it's almost criminal how they act in that house, you bats should really get on that,” ‘Riddler’ said chidingly. 

I didn't really understand why he called them bats since they all looked bird-themed but I didn't bring it up because honestly, weirder things have happened at this point. They agreed to look into it, albeit very confused(and almost offended), and said they still needed to take me back.

“Fine,” ‘Riddler’ sighed heavily, “ but Vic, sweetie, if you need somewhere safe to stay in Gotham I have plenty of friends who will keep you safe while you finish your degree.”

“Yeah, kinda tempting, but I don't think my parents would like that very much, and they are paying for it so…….”

“Very well, offer stands in perpetuity, to Arkham yes?”

“You're not gonna ask a riddle or…..” said the one in red and black.

“Usually I would but honestly I’m far too concerned right now to care.”

After that, they handcuffed him and the other goons (kinda unfair but i guess they did kidnap me) and walked me out to one of the police cars so I could go back to the manor. They offered to drive me but I've seen enough motorcycle crash scene pictures to put the fear of God (thy name is friction) in me. When I got back Mr. Wayne was in the foyer with Alfred and immediately came over to make sure I was ok.

“Yeah, I'm fine Mr. Wayne, honestly I’m more worried about the class I missed than the kidnapping,” I explained.

He seemed concerned by that but had a phone call right after that he needed to take. Alfred walked me to my room (I think to make sure I wasn't concussed) and I just kinda went back to writing and here we are. Can't wait to see what fresh hell awaits me in the coming week……….. Maybe I should've taken Riddler up on that offer.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Batman's Bird Watching Scrapbook

This fic for the @batfam-big-bang was written for @jube-art's AU concept and artwork. The way the fic is done up, it just... it would be way too much work to post all 35 chapters on tumblr, so you get the first one, and the AO3 links. So far, the first 4 parts are up on AO3.

There are two versions of this fic.

The Cool Version, which has all the coding and formatting to make it look like an actual scrapbook. And

The Simplified Version, which does not have all the coding and formatting to make it cleaner and easier to read on mobile.

Chapter 1: Arrival of Haly's Circus in Gotham

The circus wouldn't normally attract my attention, but Alfred had been telling me shortly before, to lighten up and do something fun. I think he could tell that my mission had been taking me to a particularly dark place at that time. I snapped at him when he made the suggestion, and ended up taking it as a way to apologize to him. I had no idea what awaited me. — Bruce W.

Gotham Gazette April 5, 2009 Traveling circus comes to Gotham by Bill Finger

Though known to many as a dreary city, Gotham does have its bright spots. Yesterday afternoon, Haly's International Traveling Circus set down in Amusement Mile and set up their striped big top in the fairgrounds on the waterfront.

Performances begin tomorrow at 6 P.M. and are planned to continue daily until the night of April 18th, so be sure to get your ticket to see the show while they're still in town.

Haly's Circus boasts a wide variety of acts, carnival games, and sideshows including performances of trained, live, wild animals. Among those animals are Zitka the Asian elephant, and lions Gunther and Gurbel who perform alongside Wild Wilhelm the Lion Tamer. Haly's talented horseback dancer Linda Grey does the ballet atop Dungi the Zebra.

I had the privilege of being able to interview Mister Haly before opening day, though he was very busy, and am excited to pass on some of the highlights of what he shared with me.

"We've got all sorts here," he said, "all your standard circus folk, like Sando the strongman, Pedro the dwarf, our knife-thrower Zane and his lovely assistant Zephyr, a fabulously talented group of fire-dancers, as well as the greatest menagerie of clowns you'll find in any traveling circus around the world, if I do say so myself."

I asked him what made his circus special, and Mr. Haley was more than happy to answer me. "Well, sir, our circus may have many acts you've seen before, contortionists, and magicians, and a pair of stunning tattooed ladies, but you've never seen anything like the Flying Graysons," he claimed.

The main event at Haly's Circus, the Flying Graysons, Mary, John, and their son, are widely regarded as among the most skilled acrobats on Earth, with their young son, Richard, holding the high esteem of being the youngest acrobat in history capable of successfully performing a quadruple flip on the trapeze.

As if that weren't impressive enough, the Flying Graysons fearlessly perform all their daring trapeze stunts without a net. You'll definitely want to stay until the end to catch their closing act.

(showtimes for Haly's International Traveling Circus listed on pg. 14)

[toweroftickles]

❤️ Valentine's Day Morsels ❤️

(A Whole Month Late 😅)

These were all supposed to be done for the holiday itself, but obviously that didn't happen. The problem is that I care way too much about my writing and try too hard to make it actually good. That's not why anybody reads this crap. Anywho, I've been in an anomalously sappy, romantic mood lately and whipped up some sugary, snack-sized tickle drabbles involving a few of my all-time-favorite (canon) fictional couples. :) Hope these are sweet enough! Disclaimer: this is all obviously just meant to be cute, silly fun.

Link/Zelda (utilizing "Wilds" era)

Whenever Purah developed a revolutionary new piece of tech for the Hylian Royal Family, she of course needed a volunteer to test it out. At those times, Princess Zelda was always on-hand to make sure she had one. And it was usually Link.

The Sheikah techie was putting the finishing touches on a new observation platform propulsion system...she called it a "Skyview Tower." The Hero of Hyrule stood in the center of the device, bracing for the upcoming vertical rush. It was somewhat against his will that he was being held in place by six clinking, clanking Guardian arms. He felt like a prisoner in the teeth of a hungry beast as they hooked him to the machine, but Purah just clicked away happily on her control Pad.

“How ya doin, Link? You comfy?” she asked him. He nodded reluctantly. "Ok, I'm gonna launch you in 10...9..."

Suddenly, at the sight of Link ensnared in the repurposed robot arms, Zelda bounced up and down and excitedly tapped her compatriot on the shoulder. “Oh! Oh! Purah, wait!”

Everything paused. The princess knelt and whispered excitedly into the inventor’s ear.

What they were talking about, Link couldn’t decipher, but he saw that in the midst of Zelda’s sentence, Purah’s smile stretched bigger and bigger. After a breathy exchange, both ladies were giggling to themselves. Uh-oh. He recognized that energetic sparkle in Purah’s eye…that only happened when she knew her tests were going to have “funny” results.

Beep. Four of the Guardian arms remained holding Link's wrists and ankles still, but the other two raised up and took on new purpose. The octopoid metal tendrils zipped around his torso, snapping their claws like hungry snakes. Their laser sights booped to life and swam their little red eyes all over him...targeting certain areas...and once Purah pressed that button again, they dove right in for the attack.

The little pincer claws skittered and tap-danced under his arms, across his stomach, between his ribs. At first he panicked. Then he grinned. Squirming and struggling, Link began to laugh.

“HHHHeh…Heheh…Heh-Heh Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Z-Zeld…Heh! Haha!”

"See, I told you he was ticklish," the princess chuckled.

"Oooo, and you were right! This is fun! Look at him dance!"

"Heh-Heh, Heh-Heh Ha...Haha-Heh! Nn-Heh!" Bolts of Gerudo lightning didn't make Link jump around this much. It wasn’t until Zelda sauntered over and tickled him herself that the machine finally wound down.

And just like that, being shot out of an untested military-grade cannon didn't seem so bad.

******

Parzival/Art3mis (Ready Player One)

Spring Center Fortress was always a fun place in the OASIS for testosterone-soaked one-v-one games. Each arena in the cubist coliseum was a giant trampoline, regardless of size or layout, and combat was fast and frantic when no one could stand still. Only true acrobats thrived in the chaos there. Entering one of the battle boxes, Parzival and Art3mis removed their shoes and jackets and stepped barefoot onto the bouncy black floor.

"Choose your weapon, sir." Arty's declaration of war was cheekier than usual. She smirked, already sure of her victory, and make a flashy show of unveiling a fully-2D Airbender staff. Rare gear.

Parzival eagerly cycled through the digital blue pockets of his inventory...lots of options to choose from. Neither he nor Arty were pulling admin privileges and just dropping rare junk into their accounts; this loot had to be earned like everyone else’s. Oh, there was a good one...

"Toymaker Energy Bo," he finally announced. The glowing green stick popped from hammerspace and into his hands, extending four frog-like fingers from its tip that snapped and pinched at their target.

Art3mis nodded. She looked impressed. "Spy Kids 3D. Nice."

At the sound of the buzzer, a blade of cartoony wind sliced through the room and nearly split Parzival's staff in two. Their weapons clacked together as the couple danced and dodged on the springy terrain...the fight was a wild flurry of flips, leg sweeps, slides and parries. Dodging a strike at her knees, Art3mis bounced into a full backwards aerial somersault, a mere hair's breadth away from the Game Over bo's snapping claws. Just as she landed and stumbled back, the very tips of metal fingers pulled at her body, grazing against four particular spots along her torso that they couldn't quite snare.

One, on the right side of her neck. One deep in the hollow of her left armpit. One just above her hipbone. And one smack in the center of her right side, under the ribcage.

“BAH!!” Art3mis nearly slipped on the undulating floor, swiveling on her heel and pointing her finger at Wade, and had to catch her balance against the back wall. Her staff zipped off on an air current and glided away across the stadium. Disarmed. In her most stern, commanding voice, the Goddess of the Hunt blurted “Hey! No. ...Z. No tickling."

"Hey, come on, it was an accident," Parzival laughed.

For a moment everything was still, both anticipating the other's next move. But he'd seen the flash of panic on her face...blood was in the water now. Her eyes darted to her glider. Slowly, Parzival raised his staff again. Its four-pronged hand spun around and wiggled in Arty's direction, closer and closer, and the sight made her jaw clench.

“...God, sometimes I love these Boot Suits.”

“Wade, no. N...HHHA-Ha Ha-Ha! …Ng-Heh! Nuh...nonono, God n-HNN!!"

Art3mis' arms contracted, trying to block the ravenous mechanical fingers, but that only pinned them even more snugly to where they could feast on her ticklish ribs. Her trembling knees buckled. Soon she was wrestled flat onto her back and rolling around atop the rubbery floor, her leg weakly kicking at the air. The Spy Kids staff no longer attacked her...it was Parzival's own fingers that she felt clawing beneath her loose crop-top, squeezing her belly until the cackles burst out of her. The two were bouncing and wrestling and laughing until the floor squeaked. Streaks of charcoal soot blackened her soles…the trampoline's worn surface had almost-literally painted a target on her bare feet, a target which Parzival didn't ignore for long. Arty was surprised by how hard she was cracking up...and, despite the soreness in her cheeks, by how much fun she was having.

“What, what’s the matter? Ya n00b. Stop laughing.”

"Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Uncle! Uncl-hle!"

The dull fingernails that had been scribbling beneath her toes retreated. Arty was free again. Up and down, the trampoline reverberated to the rhythm of her diaphragm's spasmodic wobbles. Even after all this time, it was still an out-of-body experience, to catch one's raspy breath as a digital avatar...when she was worn out inside the OASIS, her real-world meat puppet followed suit. Slowly she and the trampoline both calmed. She sat up, folding her arms across bent knees, and her middle finger dabbed at her eyelash.

"Ha......Ahhhhhhh Ha Ha....Huheh...Okay, okay, you got me," she chuckled. Her toes clenched up against the rubbery ground. She tried to affect a serious expression, but that wide-eyed grin of hers just wouldn't dissolve. “But don’t do that again!”

"Eh, can't make any promises," Z taunted, helping her stand. For that, he received a playful punch in the shoulder.

Like most of the OASIS, there were no real rules in Spring Center Fortress. The important thing was how you won.

******

Aang/Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Waterbender training was going...as Sokka would put it...swimmingly. Aang and Katara stood ankle-deep in the waters of Chameleon Bay, practicing their stances. Liquid swirled around them, rising and falling like tides at their command.

"How's your octopus form?" Aang's teacher asked him.

Quickly, Aang struck the proper pose and focused. A stream of ocean foam snaked upward into the air and corkscrewed multiple arcs around his body. With a twist of his arm, the water coalesced into a near-solid tentacle, its rippling surface smoothed out, and he made it sway back and forth in a friendly wave. Katara giggled. She, meanwhile, was focused on maintaining six hovering spheres of water that orbited around a rock in front of her. Gesturing with her palm, she relaxed into a simple Single Whip posture, her right knee bent and arms outstretched, and the water balls merged into a lash. She was focused and precise...and totally oblivious to what her pupil was doing.

Guided by Aang's slow dance, a water tendril slithered across the bay and breached the surface. As soon as Katara wasn't looking, its tip rose up and wiggled against her tummy - right next to her belly button.

"Ah! Haha…Aang, stop it!" Laughing, she jumped in place and covered her ticklish spot with her hand. Instantly the Avatar’s octopus construct fizzled into droplets and splashed the flowing sea below. He stood there all sheepish and rubbed the back of his tattooed head, grinning like a buffoon.

"Heh...sorry. You were wide open." Aang couldn't escape his own mischievous nature. He was 12, after all.

There was a brief and fearful pang in his stomach...is Katara mad at me? But her smile was the brightest he'd seen on the waterbender's face all week. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he could've sworn she was starting to blush. Both benders just laughed shyly and turned to face the sandbank once more.

"Alright, let's keep going."

******

Gwen/Miles (Spider-Verse)

The multiversal headquarters of the Spiders didn't just have a lockup, a science lab, and a cafeteria (no bagels allowed). There was also quite a museum of trophies and mementos gathered from past battles, defeated villains, and fallen heroes from all across the cosmic web. It was like Batman's basement on the scale of the MoMA. And Gwen couldn't wait to show Miles all she'd learned there.

Clasping one another's hands they dashed through the halls, often pulling eagerly in opposite directions. Miles was a kid in a candy store, and every time his eyes lit up, it reminded Gwen of a thousand reasons why she liked him. After passing the wrecked granite namesake of one "Big Wheel 5000 BC," the two skidded to a stop, lured by an exhibit that stood out from the rest: a single hand, perched atop a pedestal.

An Infinity Gauntlet, this was not. It was a cheap canary opera glove, with long, fluffy white feathers glued to its digits in lieu of fingernails. The plastic plaque beneath declared in full voice to the pair:

“‘The Tickler?!’" Frog-mouthed in shock, Gwen doubled over, laughing wildly. “No. Freaking. Way."***

"Are you serious right now? Ha…Wow, they just get lamer…”

"Heheh-Heh! Ok, ok; you’ve gotta hear this: 'Crude homemade weapon retrieved from Whedon Winslow, Earth-57780.' Some name... 'Failed stand-up comedian who turned to larceny. Distracted victims and pursuant Spider Society with...'"

But Miles wasn’t paying attention to Gwen's narration. He was busy cracking his knuckles and reaching toward his distracted girlfriend from behind, trying to project confidence from a playful smile that was actually quite shy. He was gonna get her so good, he encouraged himself.

In the midst of Gwen's sentence, kneading fingertips hooked right into her sensitive, squishy waistline.

Her gasp was loud and shrill. The girl almost popped like a chocolatey toaster pastry, but a right forearm encircled her collarbone and held her firmly in place. Before she knew it, Gwen was immobilized in a tickle hug and fell straight into Miles' lap as the two collapsed to the floor.

"AH!! *gasp* Huhuh-Huhuh Heheh! *gasp* Ah Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha! St-HOP ihit! We're supposed to be quiet!!"

She screamed and elbowed Miles in the stomach, but he maintained his hold. Then she tried pulling on his wrists. No good. Gwen was the most squirmy, wiggly human being Miles had ever seen; champion swimmers didn't kick their legs as hard as she did. He might as well have been trying to hold onto a hagfish in an oil spill…even with sticky fingers, it was a challenge! But watching her smile and laugh like this was so worth it.

“Wait, hold up a minute!” Miles laughed as if Gwen would actually obey him (not that she had much choice). One THWIP! of spider-silk from his wrist, and The Tickler’s glove was yanked right off its perch and into his hand. Miles didn't put it on...all he needed to do was hold one of the fingers and wield the feather like a wand.

The quills prickled like thousands of tiny needles against the nape of Gwen's goosebumpy neck...right at the signal source from whence her Spider-Sense was screeching. Any measure of defiance left in her crumbled to dust. Both of her palms slapped over her face...anything to hide it from Miles. She could have fried an egg on her cheeks for how they sizzled.

“VVVVVVVFF-EEEE!!! *Yeek!* OmigodNO - N-no feath-hers, oh my GAWWD, no feahehther-her-hers…*SNORT* AHHHMilesstoppit!” she whined and cried. The feather stroked down across her collarbone, her shoulder blade, under her armpit...

It wasn't long before one of the nigh-innumerable Spider Society horde noticed the sound of embarrassed squeals echoing throughout the gallery and swooped in to investigate. But when this particular Peter Parker entered the hall, it was found vacant. Nothing but various museum exhibits, all undisturbed in their places. And so he left.

Miles, as it turns out, had been practicing a new technique. He wasn't the only person that he could turn invisible.

"Shhh!" he whispered. Gwen was absolutely trembling in his lap, even though the tickling had stopped - it took two hands to stifle her uncontrollable belly laughs. There, with his arms around her and feeling her heartbeat against his, a warmth washed over Miles. There were a million worries flapping around inside his brain...his future with the Spiders, his parents, and he & Gwen...was it right, how they felt about each other, what they were doing? But for a few quiet moments, where nobody could see them, none of that mattered.

He almost kissed the top of her head, but got too antsy.

Maybe next time.

******

*Note: Actual Spider-Man villain. Seriously. I did not make this up.

Victoria/Misto (Cats 2019)

The Egyptian Theater was warm and sleepy that evening. The old sun-shaped stage prop created the perfect napping spot for a young Jellicle, and the white cat lolled blissfully in its hollowed-out cradle. Her left leg dangled down off the side, pendulous and swaying like a metronome, right next to her boyfriend’s nearby head. Mr. Mistoffelees was kneeling there on the floorboards directly beneath, fumbling with a deck of cards.

Victoria peered over the side of her perch and smiled, unnoticed. Just laying beside her magician (well, a bit higher and to the right of him, anyway) carried her off in a cozy bubble of comfort. She just felt content around him. Her hands couldn’t reach to pet him…not from this angle…so instead, she held her slender leg out and, with her big toe, traced gentle crescents behind his ear.

His ear twitched. At first Misto instinctively ducked away from the impromptu scalp scratch, inquisitive chuckle aside ("Heh...what are you doing?"), but he soon came around to her affection and began to purr. His head rolled around across his shoulders, his back arched, and his ears flopped and wagged. Tori could tell the scritches were making him happy. Tufts of black fur shot up like grass between her marble toes, bristling the ball of her foot back and forth, until out of nowhere it made her shiver and pull away.

"Hmhm! Hmf..." she giggled sweetly through her nose. "Your fur tickles."

The tuxedo cat grinned and looked up at her. There was his opening. "Oh, it does?" he taunted. "It does?" With one quick yank, Victoria’s foot was down near his chest, and she was laughing and gripping the sunbeams with all her might. In her meek struggle for balance, that varnished wooden nest fought back with bumpy scrapes against her stomach and her thighs. Taking hold of his tail in his left hand, Misto started painting broad brushstrokes across Victoria’s foot with its fuzzy black tip, and she immediately began to fidget. “What about this?” Misto asked her.

"Heehee-Hih! *gasp* Hn-Hih! Th-hat's not fair, I'm stuck...Hee! It tihickles," the snow-white kitten’s jubilant squeaks bubbled up from inside her. Her ears flattened shyly. Why did this kind of thing happen to her so much? She didn’t hate being tickled, but lately it felt like she’d become something of a Jellicle magnet. If this kept up, she’d have to start wearing her ballet flats 24/7.

Almost as soon as it started, Misto let her go, and Victoria scurried her legs back up inside that little hovel, before turning around and facing him once more. She loved the chalky pink way his nose blushed, and that awkward, crooked smile of his, the one that popped up whenever he finally let himself be playful. He loved how her persimmon lips stood out against her face, and the way her head dropped timidly down to her shoulders when she giggled.

Soon the two were snuggling in each other's arms inside the heart of the sun, just waiting for the Jellicle Moon to rise again.

******

Vi/Caitlyn (Arcane)

The papery bandages around her forearms chafed against Vi's chin. Her elaborate clockwork tattoos peeked out through the rips on her sleeveless blue-hooded top. Pink-and-orange sunset streaked through the glass. She still wasn’t used to laying on a bed as big and comfy as Caitlyn’s.

"I haven't had a back rub in...probably forever," she mused, still a little apprehensive about this kind of intimate contact.

"It's really relaxing, I promise.”

Warm palms kneaded into the Trencher girl's scapula. Spindly fingers performed slow, smooth taffy-machine pulls on the muscles between her shoulders and neck. At first she resisted, but slowly surrendered to the touching and let herself sink deep into the soft mattress.

“Wow, your…you’re rock solid,” Caitlyn murmured, impressed. Under that jacket, Vi’s physique felt even buffer than it looked. And that intricate body art…Caitlyn was so busy admiring that she neglected to notice how her hands were moving faster, stroking in tandem with a nervous pulse.

Vi froze. Her fingers skittishly drummed against the bedsheet. Everything about Caitlyn's technique was wrong in precisely the right ways: the thumbs were rubbing a little too gently down her lats, the fingernails squeezing a smidge too firm between her ribs. It was clumsy, inelegant...ticklish. All it took was one especially-wrong nerve hit, and when she could no longer keep her mouth shut, Vi’s whole body shuddered.

“DAH, Huhuh-Heheh! Hey…watch it,” she laughed. "Careful back there."

“Sorry,” Cait replied, smirking. Her hands plunged back down.

Oh come on…not again. Vi felt like a grape in a wine press when twisting thumbs pushed down hard on her obliques. Her lumbars. Her hipbones. Every knot in her lower back. Her eyes widened, and all the air in her chest squeezed out from between her lips like a squished football deflating.

“Mmff…PFFFFTHnhn!” More wriggles. The bed whined from the kicking lower legs that thumped against it. Caitlyn was at a befuddled junction halfway between offense and joy, between pouting and grinning. Vi always made things difficult for her.

“I am trying to do something nice for you; could you just hold still?”

“GRRRR, stop tickling me!” Vi snapped.

No apology this time. Only a playful tsk, and then the massage resumed.

The fluttery rubbing sensation drilled down through Vi’s back until it scorched the inner wall of her stomach. Her frustrated, reddening facial features scrunched themselves tightly together. She repeatedly slapped the nearby pillow with the ferocity of a grunge drummer. If her bared teeth had ground any harder together, her gums would’ve bled.

“NGK! Nooo-hoho; Hng-Hn! Gkkkk…Sss-sss-st-hop i-hih-hit…! Kkkkk!!” The redhead choked on desperate glass-shard sniggers that scraped against the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t stop her angry tough-girl giggling, and it drove her nuts.

"C-hut it ouuut, I'm gonna punch you!!!"

That one wasn't a threat; it was a genuine, heartfelt warning. Caitlyn couldn’t help but flash a buck-toothed grin...that was probably enough, for both their sakes. She drew back her hands and watched Vi's quivering shoulders slow down, listened to her breath steady itself.

"Ugh...What the hell, Cait?"

“Sorry, it wasn't on purpose. You’re just…I think it’s very…*ahem* …" Now it was the cop's turn to be flustered and rosy-cheeked. "...adorable. How frustrated you get when you’re feeling ticklish.”

Caitlyn was expecting a tease, a playful slap, a snarky reprimand...some kind of retaliation...especially when she saw that smirk in the corner of Vi's mouth. But instead of payback, she got a pleasant surprise: Vi sat up, turned around, and shoved her lips into Caitlyn’s so hard and fast that the blue-haired Enforcer almost fell backward.

...Perhaps she'd have to try this again soon.

******

Kiki/Tombo (Kiki's Delivery Service)

“Hey, Kiki, I was wondering…can witches call their broomsticks to them like a magnet?” Tombo asked studiously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He and Kiki were relaxing on Ursula’s front porch with glasses of fizzy lemonade, the sticky kind that makes your spit hurt when you drink it. It was a foggy spring morning and the crows were flapping in the damp emerald lawn.

“Hm…I don’t know; I’ve never tried,” she observed. Spying her broom across the clearing, rested against a tree stump, the young courier witch reached out her right hand, poked her tongue out, and concentrated. Unfortunately, Star Wars hadn't been invented yet, so it didn't occur to her to make an Empire Strikes Back reference.

At first her flying stick merely turned. It rocked in the crook of the tree’s roots, but nothing more. Maybe she wasn’t concentrating hard enough? But no sooner had the idea entered her mind than the crude vehicle hoisted itself horizontally, hovered a few feet off the grass, and charged. An invisible hand threw the broom at Kiki like a chucked javelin, and it was soaring straight for her face.

"Whoa! Look out!" Tombo immediately sprung into action, and his quick dive shoved Kiki out of the way just in time for him to take the blow. The broom's handle shot into one sleeve and out the other, dragging the junior aviator off the porch and tossing him headlong to the ground before it finally twitched its last.

“Oh my gosh, Tombo! Are you ok?!” Panicking, Kiki rushed to pull her friend up out of the grass. The broom handle was caught against his neck, parallel to the red-and-white stripes on his chest. He wobbled a bit when he stood...a few green stains on his knees...but was otherwise unscraped.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little crooked here," he reassured her, swinging his arms around like a weathervane.

“Oh, thank goodness...Heh...you know, you kind of look like a scarecrow that way."

She was right...he did...but the boy’s gangly T-pose did nothing to deter Ursula’s avian buddies. In fact, right on cue, several of them flocked to his outstretched forearms. One even pecked at his ear.

“Heh-Heh! Guess I’m not a very good one!” The two shared a chuckle, before Kiki helpfully flapped her arm and shooed the birds away. "Hey, thanks. Can you help me get this out? My arms are kinda stuck."

But Kiki wasn't interested in helping right away...his pose had given her other ideas. Before Tombo knew it, Kiki's fingers were strumming up and down his sides with gleeful abandon. She kept pinching his belly and in between his ribs and affectionately watched him wiggle.

"Heh! Heheh-Haha! Hey, cut it ou-howt! Heh! You know I'm ticklish!" Tombo's smile was wide and sunny and dorky as he jumped around in place. Kiki, meanwhile, was positively giddy. She only tickled for a few more seconds...any longer and she would've gotten much too embarrassed...before carefully extricating the misbehaving broom from Tombo's sleeves and throwing it out into the field. Crisis averted.

"Heehee-Hee! I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!"

The boy brushed his sandy hair back and grinned broadly as the two sat again. "Well, you know I can't just let you do that!"

Kiki glanced down. Slowly...making sure to stretch out each moment of tension to its unbearable limits...Tombo was reaching his hands towards her, performing a spidery midair dance with his fingers.

The teen witch was already in a fit of helpless giggles and starting to blush. “Hmhm! Oho no, please don’t do it…” But instead of fleeing or curling up like an armadillo, as Tombo expected, Kiki bent over and quickly slipped her shoes off…first left, then right…and then lifted her arms skyward. “Heehee! Oh my gohosh, no, please…please don't...”

Suddenly, an old door hinge groaned. Bare feet creaked on the cold grey porch step. When Kiki & Tombo turned to look at the source of the noise, there stood Ursula, grinning and tapping her fingers on a steaming blue coffee mug.

"Hey, what are you two doing out here?"

*******A Few Seconds Later*******

"AHHH, Ha-HAAAAA Haha! *gasp* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!" Kiki screamed.

"Heheh...Heh! Hng…Heheh-Haha Haha...Hng! Heh! Stop!" Tombo's turn.

Ursula was pinning both of her young friends down to the floorboards, aggressively wiggling her nimble fingers across their bellies and watching them squirm & kick in sync together. “Uh-ohhh; look out! I'm the world's most evil tummy tickler!” She laughed, they laughed; Ursula was clearly relishing her position.

That is, until Kiki and Tombo managed to grab the artist’s ankles amid their struggle, tripped her up, and tickled her feet with her own paintbrushes until she was completely out of breath from laughing.

Kiki often wound up in tickle fights with her friends back home. But she couldn't remember one that was this much fun.

******

Robin/Maid Marian (Robin Hood)

Cops and robbers, such as they were, didn't exist in 12th-century Britannia. So "Robin Hood vs. Prince John" was the game of choice for the rabbit brood. Skippy was playing Robin Hood, of course, which meant Sis & Tagalong were his cohorts. Maid Marian volunteered to be Prince John, so Lady Kluck had to be the Sheriff. That left Robin himself to portray the benevolent King Richard, and Toby Turtle as Sir Hiss.

“A pox on the phony king of England!” Robin cheered. At his command, his noble servants were chasing the “Prince” all over the castle courtyard. They all ran in wild circles over and over, laughing merrily, until Skippy and Tagalong managed to hop up and grab Marian by the wrists. The bunny siblings dangled off of her like bracelets swaying in the breeze, and she bent at the waist as she tried to keep walking.

"We've gotchu now, Prince John!" crowed Skippy. "Give up?"

"Oh no, what-EVER shall I do?" Marian giggled in her most over-dramatic performance yet. "Sir Hiss, seize these scoundrels!"

Toby's head - SHLUNK - sucked back into his shell. He certainly wasn't going to help. Eager to catch their dastardly villain, Sis took matters into her own hands. Jumping in front of the pack, the bunny girl reached up and pawed at the struggling Maid Marian's belly, and Skippy joined the fun by grabbing her side. Immediately, the vixen broke into breathy peals of soft, melodious laughter.

"Ohoho no...Oh no-ho-ho-ho! *gasp* Noooo; anything but tickling, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!"

She knew full well that a plea like that would only goad the rambunctious tykes on, but if she were being honest, she was having far too much fun to care. This was as close as she'd get to playing with kids of her own, at least for a little while. Letting loose an enthusiastic yip, Marian fell into the dandelions, and the wrath of the rabbit swarm rained down upon her.

A sextet of bunny hands and paws were grabbing and squeezing and scratching at her tummy. Their little fingers pulled through creases in the silky dress she wore; their feet slid and stomped along her sides and made her wiggle. The kids' squeaky machine-gun giggles were very contagious, and the already-helpless fox couldn't stop laughing herself silly. She jostled and squirmed and had to push Tagalong off of her stomach.

“Ah-Ha Ha-Ha! *gasp* Help! K-Klucky-Hee…Ro...Robin, Heh-Heh-Help!”

"Bawk! Milady! Yer noicest drrrrress!" Klucky honked.

Robin himself was busy chuckling at Marian’s misfortune. Quite clever of them, he thought. They'd make Merry Men yet. His yellow bycocket cap shifted atop his vulpine ears - and suddenly, his thoughts turned to the feather that adorned it. He removed the hat, pulled the long scarlet plume from its sheathe, and twisted it between his fingers, amused. "Ah, there we are..." the outlaw remarked to no one in particular, as if he'd made some unexpected discovery.

Kneeling down, Robin grasped Marian's right ankle and gingerly lifted her leg up out of the weeds. With that roguish, wry smile and an absentminded hum, he stared right into her eyes and swooshed the feather back and forth across the bottom of her foot.

"Oh!! *gasp* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!! *gasp*hic* Haha-Ha! Oh dohon't, please, I...I d-hon't think I can stand any more, Ha-Ha Ha!” she cried. Pools of pink stained her cheeks. Her long eyelashes were dripping wet.

"Hmm, I think the prisoner has learned their lesson, don't you, kids?" Robin declared. Despite a few protests and "awwww"s, everyone backed off, leaving the exhausted Marian alone in the grass to catch her breath. "The Prince has been vanquished!!"

"Long live Robin Hood!" Skippy cried, holding his wooden sword triumphantly aloft, cheered on by his adulating sisters. While the kids danced in a circle singing "Prince John the Worst" off-key, Robin traipsed through the flowerbed over to his lady fair and tenderly offered her his palm.

"Oh, my hero; you've come to rescue me," Marian sighed, still all atwitter and breathless and fanning herself.

But instead of taking his hand, Marian pulled Robin down into the sunny spring field with her. Robin sent her his most disarmingly handsome smolder, and when she shied away, he slowly kissed her cheek. Their embrace was perfectly accompanied by the sounds of Sis and Tagalong giggling at them in the background...and of Skippy pretending to vomit.

"Blech!" he mumbled. "...Sissy stuff."

******

Neytiri/Jake (Avatar)

Neytiri sat up and slowly pulled her feet from beneath the powdery white sand. Infinitesimal shards of salt and earth and coral and glass sifted through the gaps between her toes with a quiet hiss. Pandoran beaches were very soft.

Jake emerged from the water and strode over to her resting spot. The sand was so smooth that he didn't even leave footprints; the pale flecks of dust simply clung to his body. "You think we should get back?" he asked her. "Mo'at's probably gonna be pissed."

"Mmmm..." Neytiri sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. "Not yet. I am too relaxed to move."

“Well here…lemme help you.” Not waiting for a rebuttal, Jake immediately stepped over her reclining legs, turned his back, and plopped down right on her ankles, straddling them. Neytiri looked bemused by his antics.

"What? What are you...AHH!!!! HN...Huheh-HEEE Heehee-Hee! NO! No PLEASE; HA-HA HA-HA!!"

The Omatikaya princess’ loud shriek scattered the nearby flock of tetrapteron into the salty air. Her grin threatened to split her cheeks open. Jake's fingertips were mercilessly prodding and caressing underneath her toes, and every single touch made her want to scream.

"Not that! G-get AWAY from MEE-HEE!!!" But her mate said nothing. Grinning, Jake bent all ten of his fingers...those damn Sky People with their extra digits...and scratched them up and down on her massive sky-blue soles.

“J-Jake!! My JAHAY-HA-HA-HA!!!” Neytiri tried to beg, but couldn't get the words out. Her voice leapfrogged through the entire octave scale, from bird chirps all the way down to breathy hyucks erupting from deep in her belly. She thrashed around frantically, her butt bouncing against the sand, and left a flurry of stinging open-palm slaps across her husband's back; even he could barely wrestle her down. Braids and beads tangled themselves like seaweed across her screaming face...how undignified it was, to constantly spit out strands of dreadlocked hair in between her bouts of tearful hysteria.

Jake didn't quit torturing her until she managed to lurch herself forward...the crunch burned her elongated stomach...and threw both of her hands at his armpits. He laughed and jumped aside at the unexpected tickle, before spinning around and scooping Neytiri into his arms. In a moment she was flat on her back once again, with Jake hovering over her and blotting out the sun, a toruk in his own right. The tremors in her chest slowed down, but her anger only boiled hotter. The smug, dopey jarhead smile of his...why didn't she hate it?

"I...*huff*...will...make you suffer for this...*wheeze*...Jake Sully," she hissed at her mate, flashing jagged fangs.

Rather than fear her, or even apologize, Jake simply tweaked her nose and pecked her on the forehead. What an asshole.

Maybe she could let him off the hook. Just this once.

******

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by dindooku

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 5.6K (fourth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

IV. “Hey! Watch it! I–oh…I, um…” the Trandoshan’s words died on his lips the moment he looked up to discover who he’d bumped into.  

The Mandalorian hated working on Coruscant. It was noisy, crowded, and endlessly labyrinthian. Most of the filters in his helmet were rendered useless due to the sheer number of life forms in such close proximity. Continuous vehicle traffic across every level of the city overloaded his motion sensors. 

The frenetic energy of the megalopolis set him on edge.

But what Mando really hated, what he absolutely loathed, was visiting the Uscru District. It was all the worst parts about a place like Daiyu—gambling dens, night clubs, garish neon lights, vendors shouting, the flashing, stochastic holograms—made somehow worse because it was repacked for gawking tourists. 

Acrobats hung from cables crisscrossing overhead, their lithe bodies shimmering, while street musicians played for coins. Instrument cases littered the walkway, and goods were hawked on the pavement.   

He felt uncentered. The next idiot who tripped over him to stare slack-jawed at some fucking juggler was getting bodied. 

Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Mando couldn’t afford the delay.

The Mandalorian turned onto Daring Way, toward the sky bridge that would take him to the Floating World. Tourists liked to keep to well-lit thoroughfares, so the foot traffic here was sparser, and he made better time. Soon, the soft, glowing lights of the pleasure quarter came into view. 

Music spilled out from decadent parlors where the doors and windows had been flung open to lure passersby. Beings of every gender and species could be seen lounging, sprawled out on display, wearing little more than scraps of fabric and gaudy jewels. 

Each house catered to a different clientele, their specialty made known by the facade of the building or else the costumes worn by hosts welcoming their clients inside. 

Most tourists never entered the brothels of the Floating World. They just came to take in the scene and watch the crowd, which was a sight in itself. Amongst the extravagant fashions and decor of the houses, many visitors donned elaborate masks or robes to conceal their identities.   

So the Mandalorian was surprised to discover that the Dark Garden had no hosts waiting in the doorway and nothing on display in the windows. Instead, they were closed, sealed tight behind intricately carved black shutters. 

The whole building was black. Its gleaming stone exterior looked more like a palatial mansion than a pleasure house.  

The woman stationed behind the desk in the entryway was also dressed in black. It was a stark contrast to her pale pink skin, white-blond hair, and nearly colorless gray eyes. She looked up at him from between two onyx vases overflowing with vibrant red blossoms that matched her painted lips. 

“Welcome, sir. We appreciate your business. Do you have an appointment?”

“No. I’m not in need of your…services. I’ve come to see Mistress Anassa. She’ll know why I’m here.”

“Mistress Anassa is very busy,” she smiled apologetically. “Her clients book months in advance. I cannot promise she will have time to—”

He slid several gold peggats across the highly polished surface of the reception desk. 

“Tell her a Mandalorian is waiting. I’ll be here until she finds the time.”

“Very well, sir. Please come with me.” 

She led him through a dark passage to a lounge filled with curved sofas and circular ottomans, where clients–some wearing masks, others with their faces bared–sat huddled in conversation, drinking from elegant carafes or smoking ornate water pipes. 

The hostess directed him to an alcove beneath a cluster of illuminated, floating orbs. 

“Can I offer the Mandalorian anything while he waits? Company, perhaps?” She lowered her voice as she leaned in to place a pillow behind his back. “We cater to every desire here.”

“My desire,” he said evenly, “is for solitude.”

“As you like,” she smiled again, leaving him to wait for Mistress Anassa. 

But he was conspicuous sitting alone, and it wasn’t long before another hostess dressed in black strode toward him. She walked over on towering heels he imagined Thuli would have loved, to see if the Mandalorian was in need of attention.

She artfully placed one of the gilt carafes onto the lacquered table beside him and poured a drink. “May I offer the gentleman anything else?” 

Her voice was as supple as her corsetted leather dress. 

“No. Thank you, I–” 

The sight of two luminous violet eyes caught him by surprise, and his heart stuttered. He turned sharply to see a woman entering the parlor. On second glance, she looked nothing like Thulindhara. But the eyes were unmistakable—their iridescent sheen, how they glowed bright like full moons. She was Hapan. 

“Perhaps the Mandalorian sees something to his liking?” 

It wasn’t her, yet the thrill that rose inside him didn’t ebb. It clutched the breath from his lungs and twisted his stomach into knots. 

Mando knew he would miss her, but he hadn’t expected to feel her absence as a physical pain. 

“No,” he said. “Thank you. But, no. I’m here to see Mistress Anassa.”

He watched as the woman who wasn’t Thuli walked up to a Keshiri couple at the bar, gesturing them to follow her down a long corridor hidden behind a pair of lush velvet curtains.

Beside him, the hostess offered the drink she’d poured, and he accepted it. Not for the sake of politeness but because he felt compelled to hold something in his hands. Sensing his discomposure, she looked meaningfully towards the curtains as they fell back into place and whispered, “They say to lie with a Hapan is to open the door to heaven.”

The Mandalorian had heard that said many times and always dismissed it as a self-serving rumor. He didn’t pay for sex, but mercenaries loved to talk about how they would spend their take on Hapan courtesans. The most expensive pussy in the galaxy, they said. Once you’re between her thighs, you’ll forget your own name.  

Now, Mando understood the truth of these stories. Well…he hadn’t forgotten his name, but she did taste like heaven. 

For most of his life, sex had been about release. Lust was simply another physical need. Like hunger or sleep, he met those needs for the sake of his body. When a woman felt so inclined, he obliged—helmet sealed, armor intact—and let her take what satisfaction she could find.

With Thuli, he learned that sex could be something beyond physical pleasure. They shared a connection unlike anything he’d experienced. Real intimacy. Mando hadn’t kissed a woman since…he’d barely been a man. Still a child, really. 

To be with Thulani, naked and vulnerable as he had never been before, was not about release. It was fulfillment. Satisfaction of body and soul. And, yes, part of that was being between her thighs.

In the abstract, he’d been a little intimidated, but in the moment, it had felt entirely natural. He wanted to linger over her every curve, to put his mouth over every inch of her body, and he had loved all of it—the way she tasted, her fingers tugging at his hair, how her hips lifted with his touch.

It made him feel powerful in a way he hadn’t expected, drinking her in until she was soaked and breathless under his tongue. 

Then, a door had opened—a door between their consciousness, when he’d felt her pleasure cresting through his body, rippling over his skin in waves that matched the stroking of his fingers. She’d lost all control, and his whole being suffused with her ecstasy, so intensely passionate that he saw stars behind his eyes. Maybe it was heaven? 

Thulani’s trick was making people believe in her openness, yet Mando recognized how rigidly she held herself in check. He sensed the wild, fierce nature in her heart that she constrained. It made him feel both immeasurably powerful and deeply gratified to be the one who made her unravel.  

“The Mandalorian asked for me?”

A woman in a crisply tailored black suit stood before him. He did not immediately recognize her species, but the horns that spiraled around her long, folded ears and convex nose reminded him of a dray goat.

“You’re Mistress Anasssa? The proprietor of this…establishment.”

“Mmm, the Mandalorian is polite for a mercenary,” she sat beside him on the bench and reached out with slender fingers (no hooves) to take the glass from between his hands. It struck him at once how artfully the gesture was both sensual and dominating. “In answer to your question…” she drank deeply. “Yes. The gentleman would be wise not to let the crystal and chandeliers fool him. This is a dungeon. And I am its master.” 

“I see.” It was all he could think to say. “Boss Set’ki said you’d be expecting me.”

“My apologies. I was otherwise occupied when the Mandalorian arrived.” She looked at the untouched carafe on the table. “I am sorry my vintage is not to his taste. And none of my ladies, either, I hear. If it is males he prefers, the gentleman need only—”

“That is beyond my purpose, Mistress Anassa. I’m here on business.”

“I doubt the Mandalorian would burden himself with such formality if he intended to capture me,” the mistress smiled curiously. “What is his business?”  

“I’m interested in one of your clients.”

She scoffed. “The gentleman must realize discretion is an essential tenet of my profession. Why would I betray my client to help him?”

“Because Set’ki owes me a debt. And while you may be the master of this dungeon, your master is Boss Set’ki.”

Her features became resolute. “Then let us discuss this matter in private.”

The Mistress rose and walked toward the velvet curtains. Mando followed her down the long corridor until she stopped before a door with gold flowers embossed along its hinges.

She placed a tasseled fob against the keypad. “I hope the Mandalorian will appreciate that it is to everyone’s benefit if he appears to be another of my clients?”

“Very well,” he said and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. The black walls did not surprise him, but the abundance of those same red flowers, blooming from vases and wall hangings did. They matched the illuminated floor tiles that pulsed with crimson light. 

Otherwise, the room was sparsely furnished to accommodate the…equipment. There was a saltire cross with a rack of whips and paddles positioned beside it and a polished steel beam with manacles chained to its post. A length of rope dangled from one of the ceiling beams overhead. Instead of a bed, a quilted leather couch sat in a far corner of the room. 

Plastered across one of the walls was a diagram of knots with cautionary notes about circulation and nerve damage. 

“I’m sure the Mandalorian must be very accomplished at tying knots,” Mistress Anassa said from over his shoulder.

“I prefer cuffs.”

“Mmm…” He felt her eyes rake over him with heightened interest. “I have never met a Mandalorian before, but I begin to see why you inspire so much fascination. The armor, the brute force, stalking, capture, imprisonment—all potent themes for bondage role play.”

“I am Mandalorian. Violence is my trade. Weapons are part of my religion.” Mando turned to face her. “I’m not playing a game, Mistress.”

He could tell Anassa enjoyed hearing him call her that. 

“Of course. Though I’m sure someone has offered to suck your cock in exchange for their freedom. Can you honestly say their begging has never aroused you?”

Her tone was frank, not seductive. A businesswoman appraising a commodity. 

“I think the Mistress has a false impression about the sorts of people I’m sent to collect.”

At that, she laughed. “Still…I see the appeal. If you’re ever interested in a new line of work, I believe the Mandalorian and I could make a great deal of money together.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mando recalled that Thulani had said much the same thing. A Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin brothels.

He suddenly wondered if this was something Thuli might enjoy. Bondage? Role play? The clamps and paddles didn’t exactly appeal to him, but he wouldn’t be opposed to tying her up if that’s what she wanted.

Mando looked at the steel beam, and his mind couldn’t help but stray towards fantasies of throwing her over it and fucking her senseless. 

“About your client, Mistress Anassa.”

“What is it you wish to know?”  

“This man, Ronan Carr,” he took the holo-puck from his pocket and activated its profile. “I’m told he makes use of your services when his wife is out of town.” 

Mistress Anassa schooled her features, but it was too late. He’d seen the look of panic cross her eyes the instant she recognized the man’s face.

“The Senator will be leaving on a diplomatic mission. Does Carr have an appointment scheduled for her departure?”

The Mandalorian suspected that Ronan Carr had an appointment booked for later that day. He’d been following Carr for the past week. Yesterday, the man had reserved an entire hotel floor under a false name and given his personal assistant the night off. 

“He does,” the Mistress confirmed. “But I won’t help you. Boss Set’ki may kill me for my refusal. I will accept that punishment. A political assassination would condemn every soul under my care. That I will not accept.” 

“I have no intention of killing Ronan Carr,” he assured her. “It’s information I want.”

“I suppose that is his trade,” her eyes weighed the Mandalorian, and she dropped the artful persona. “You won’t harm him? No kidnapping or torture?”

“If those are your terms, then I will agree. I only want to talk to him.”

“What if I have other terms?” The Mistress asked shrewdly.

“Name them.”

“I don’t want any of my people harmed.”

He nodded. “Do you know who you’ll send?” 

“Yes, there are a few he favors.” 

“Then give me some token or signal. But tell no one of this.” 

She paused before coming to a decision. “I will go with them tonight. To ensure all will be as you promise.”

“These are your terms?”

“He’s a good client,” she waved her well-manicured hand vaguely, “And if word got out? If he thought I’d helped you?”

“Ronan Carr won’t risk the Senator discovering his…hobbies.”

“I suppose that’s true.” 

“Here,” he pulled out a folded wallet and handed it to her. “To compensate for your loss of business. Though I expect a man with his proclivities should be back before long.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a curt bow. “You know where to find him?”

“Carr has gone to great lengths to conceal his plans, but yes, I know where he’ll be tonight.” And without really intending to, the Mandalorian said, “His desires make him weak.”

Mando was surprised at the scorn in his voice. Surprised to hear himself say that. Did he believe desire made him weak? His desire for Thuli?  

It certainly made it difficult to concentrate. How many times did he think about her each day? 

Maker, if he was being honest…he woke up thinking about Thulani, and the thought seemed to last all day. He worried about whether she was safe. He’d make some stray observation and imagine her reaction. He saw something beautiful in a window and wondered if she would like it. 

When he lay inside the sleeping compartment alone, surrounded by her scent, he thought of Thuli’s mouth on him, those delicate fingers stroking his cock, and his body ached. He could not bring himself off without thinking about her. 

Mistress Anassa looked at him with genuine sympathy as though she could sense his turmoil. 

“Shame is Ronan Carr’s weakness,” she said. “If he were honest about his desires, you would have no power over him. His wife might even oblige. But shame feeds arousal. Maybe you can understand that?”

“Excuse me?”

Shame. Was that at the root of his sudden anger? The Mandalorian was not ashamed of his relationship with Thuli. He did not believe she made him weak.

But he did feel shame about his own selfish cowardice. That in her absence, he’d realized how deeply he cared for her, and it killed him knowing he could never say those words. 

Why? Because they gave her power over him? No. Whether he said the words or not, didn’t change his feelings. But to say them aloud would be a promise. One he couldn’t make.   

She’d met him on those terms, yet he felt ashamed he couldn’t give her more. She deserved better than a man who could not share his name or his face or his life with her. It would always come back to that.

“Shame is one of the most effective tools of repression,” Mistress Anassa shrugged. “But repression simply fuels temptation. Temptation transforms into desire. Desire generates more shame.” 

Anassa opened a hidden panel in the wall and beckoned him forward. Lightly placing her fingers over a wooden slat, she slid it open, and a pinhole of light pierced through the room. The muffled sounds of moaning grew louder.

Gesturing toward the peephole, she said, “It’s only when we embrace our desires that we become free of this endless cycle.” 

Curiosity getting the better of him, the Mandalorian looked. What he saw was the Keshiri couple from the parlor. The man was fully clothed, on all fours, hands and knees braced against the ground. His partner was naked, splayed on his back, while the Hapan woman fucked her roughly from behind with a strap-on.

“They were honest with each other about their desires. Now, it creates a bond rather than a wedge.”

Mando hadn’t anticipated that visiting a sex dungeon would prompt so much soul-searching. His eyes strayed back to the peephole, towards the Keshiri in the throws of climax, eyes shut tight as though she might die from ecstasy. 

While he felt ashamed that he could not tell Thulani he loved her, he could at least ensure she felt loved. When he worshipped her body, when he fulfilled her desires, when he made her unravel—she would know the depth of his feelings.     

“I’ve heard it said that true Mandalorians do not remove their armor. Perhaps the gentleman prefers to watch?”

He pulled the slot closed. “I’ve seen enough.”

**********

One thing the Mandalorian did appreciate about Coruscant was the simplicity of bribing government officials. As with any vast bureaucracy, front line New Republic workers like the port operatives were overlooked and underpaid. 

Flush with cash from Ryun Vos, Mando was able to dock under fake tabs at a shipyard centrally located in a safe and discreet area. Money made all things possible on Coruscant.

“Please tell me something in that bag is fried?” Nito moaned as the Mandalorian stepped inside the Razor Crest. 

“I got some of everything, so your odds are good.”

The Ardennian was sitting at a makeshift table of stacked cargo containers with the Child seated in his lap. He had his mechanic’s apron on while the kid was stripped to his breechcloth. And they were both covered in paint.

“There better be a bath planned for after this,” Mando growled, reaching to wipe the Child’s talons clean with a take-out napkin.

“What? Yeah. Sorry,” Nito said dimly. “Yes! Oil bread. And rice balls! Fuck yeah!” 

The Mandalorian thought vaguely that Thulani would try to curb Nito’s swearing, but he only had so much paternal energy left in him today, and he needed it for the baby.

Mando pulled the fried bread out of reach and replaced it with the box of bean pods. “Hey, kid, you need to eat at least five of these.” 

His enormous ears wilted in disappointment.

“How’s the programming going?” Mando asked, searching for the sweet and sour broth.

Nito shoved a rice ball in his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Do you have any idea how complex a unified operating system for an industrial plant—with residential facilities can be?”

“No,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m paying you.”

“Paying me in more than dumplings, I hope.” Nito laughed cheerily. “Assuming it’s the Imperial coding language, I think it is…”

“We’re going to find out tonight.”

“You got Carr?”

“I know how to get to him,” Mando said. “We leave in three hours. Spend at least one of those cleaning up the kid.”

“Okay. Okay.” 

The Mandalorian was relieved to have such a tidy solution for Ronan Carr. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for reconnaissance or planning. He was a blunt instrument—brute force, as Mistress Anassa had said. But Nito proved that hacking the man’s communicator could be useful. Coruscant was not the Outer Rim. Best to be cautious here. 

Months ago, he would have stormed the hotel, shoved a blaster in Carr’s face, and broken the man’s fingers until he talked. Now, when Mando considered this approach, the crew from Dark Garden weighed on his conscience. Not everything needs to end in a shoot-out, Thuli had chided him. She wasn’t even here, yet her memory was wringing these little bits of decency from him.

Nito snapped his fingers in front of Mando’s viewplate. “You in there?”

“What?” He shook his head.

“You’ve been staring at those dumplings for an eternity. I want to eat them.”

Mando passed the container. 

“I was telling you about this utter stroke of genius I had.” The Ardennian lifted the kid onto the table and pulled something out from his apron pocket. “So, he’s green, right? Well, I painted his face. And when I put on the bonnet…See! He’s Mirialan.”

Underneath the paint splatters, Mando recognized the geometric facial markings.

“That’s–that is pretty genius.”

Nito beamed. Thuli told him things would be easier with the kids if he put in a little effort. So far, it was working. 

“I mean, he hates having his ears tucked, but it’s only temporary, buddy. Just to keep you safe.”

The Child squirmed and pounded his fists against his thighs. 

Mando had to suppress a laugh. “Bean pods and bonnets. Guess you got it pretty rough, kid.”

The baby stopped mid-tantrum to glare at the Mandalorian.

“Anyway,” Nito went on. “We had the paint out, so I found some packing paper…and look what he made.”

Mando tilted his head and squinted, “It’s a…bantha?”

“It’s the Razor Crest,” Nito snorted.

“If you say so.”

The kid squealed until Mando handed him a meat pie.

“I miss her too, you know.” 

“What?”

“Fish dumplings are Thuli’s favorite,” Nito said quietly. “It’s hard not to miss her when she makes everything so…” he shrugged, “cozy when she’s around.”  

The Mandalorian nodded. “You heard from her today?”

His heart twisted painfully in anticipation. It did every day when he asked that question. But he knew she must have checked in that morning. Nito would be inconsolable if she hadn’t.

“Yeah, I got the signal.”

Good. She's alive. Hopefully safe. “We’ll see her soon,” Mando assured them. “We’re stocked up on supplies, weapons, equipment. Once we get what we need from Carr, we can make a course for Lakaran.”

“Did you get a gift to bring her now that you guys are, you know, sleeping together?”

The Mandalorian choked on his soup. The steel jaw of his helmet caught him painfully on the lip, and he had to pound his chest a few times before he could breathe again. “Did she–ahem–did she say something…about…?”

“Didn’t have to,” Nito waved a furry hand. “For months, you’ve both just wreaked of longing and frustration. Then you came back and smelled…satisfied. Pretty logical conclusion.”

“You can smell that?”

“Oh yeah! It’s kind of funny that humans can’t since all of your emotions get communicated through hormones and sweat glands.”

Mando shook his head again. “I’m not entirely comfortable talking about this,” he sighed. “But while we’re on the subject, there are some…things I should…we should probably…discuss before we leave to find Carr.” 

“What? Like, sex stuff?”

The Mandalorian groaned. Where do I even start…? 

**********

The hotel Ronan Carr had booked was elegant enough for his aristocratic tastes while also offering the assurance of privacy. There was a separate entrance and elevator for the penthouse floor so he could avoid bumping into anyone from his social circle—or his wife’s senatorial colleagues—in the lobby. 

Mando opted to gain entry from the roof. 

“You hear something?” One of the bodyguards asked. 

But just as their partner began to answer, the Mandalorian slipped behind him and placed a blade to the man’s throat. In an instant, he had grabbed the guard’s wrist and raised his blaster. Mando shot the other bodyguard before they could cry out in warning. 

To stage this right, the knife needed to go in at just the right angle. But the man continued to struggle under Mando’s grip, trying to break free from his hold. The guard tried everything—stomping on the Mandalorian’s foot, slamming his head against the Beskar, thrusting his shoulders against Mando’s arm around his neck.

The bounty hunter might as well be a statue for all the give there was in his frame. The guard’s death was inevitable, but he refused to make peace with it. 

Mando hooked his leg around the man’s ankle and sent them both hurtling toward the ground. The force of impact drove the knife into the guard’s throat.

A wet splatter hit his view plate when the man coughed blood onto the Mandalorian’s helmet. Yet he still fought. Hands flailed blindly until Mando drove the blade deeper, severing the spinal cord. And finally, the fingers clawing at his wrists fell limp.    

He rolled the bodyguard onto his back and returned the blaster to the man’s right hand. Should be enough to cover my tracks.

Mistress Anassa had left the south-facing balcony doors unlocked, just as he instructed. They slid open with a soft rolling hush before he made his way silently through the suite. She was waiting for him in the study, hunched over a display monitor. 

“You look a sight,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I get you a towel?”

“No.” The blood was war paint. It would make what came next that much easier. "I staged the guards. You can claim a fight broke out, and you had to get your people to safety."

Anassa cleared her throat and nodded. It was the first time he’d seen her unsettled. “The false name on the hotel reservation avoids a paper trail, but I can’t decide whether Carr realizes Set’ki is tracking all of this.”

“Do you record him every time?”

She glared at Mando. “No, but I had a feeling my master wanted some insurance. I don’t expect Ronan Carr will be making any future appointments with Dark Garden after tonight.” 

Involving Set’ki and Anassa—at all—was an unnecessary risk. The Mandalorian had done it to ensure the safety of her employees, and he didn’t feel any remorse about the Mistress’s bottom line. 

“Tell them to leave the room.”

She crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. “I know I don’t have a say in any of this, but it shouldn’t go unspoken, this is a gross violation of my professional ethics.”

“You’re arguing ethics after admitting to blackmail?” 

“Those restraints are intended to aid his submission. He needs to feel safe to surrender control. And instead, you’ve co-opted them for violence.”

Mando huffed. “Are you referring to the silk scarves tied around his wrists and ankles?”

“The type of restraints are irrelevant. Bondage is a kink that depends on trust. It’s a choice to be helpless. Consent is based entirely on trust. This is a violation of trust. I feel the weight of what this will do to his psyche, and I ask you to acknowledge that before you step inside that room.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom why she was looking to him to absolve her guilt. 

“And I told you, violence is my profession. Get—your people—out.”

From the display screen, Mando watched as the Mistress entered the bedroom. Her sudden presence startled the other women, but she quickly ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind her. 

When he was confident they were gone, the bounty hunter opened the bedroom door. The first thing he did was drape a towel over Set’ki’s camera. Mando didn’t want any record of his presence on Coruscant.

He approached the chair Carr was bound to without bothering to stifle his footsteps. The man had a sensory deprivation mask covering his eyes and ears. He hadn’t sensed the ladies from Dark Garden leave the room, and he was becoming agitated, sitting in a puddle of urine, confused as to why they didn’t end the session. 

Ronan Carr paid to be tied down and tickled until he pissed himself. The kink wasn’t inherently sexual. It didn’t make him hard. He didn’t come, and nobody brought him to completion. The tickling made him laugh and his muscles spasm, and eventually, the stress on his pelvic floor emptied his bladder. 

Then, he slept for ten hours. It simply…relaxed the man. 

“Whoa!” Nito said when the Mandalorian explained this. “So it’s like getting a massage? But, like, a really extreme massage.” 

It wasn’t not sexual…he paid to be tickled by beautiful women, after all. 

As he ripped the mask off, Mando tried not to think about Anassa’s sanctimonious pleading. He felt no remorse for Ronan Carr, either.

The bounty hunter unholstered his blaster and pointed it in the man’s face so it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. On cue, Carr jumped, recoiling in terror at the sight of the Mandalorian.

“Don’t cry for help," Mando said, his voice cold and stern. "You don’t want anyone coming through that door to find you like this, do you?”

Ronan Carr shook his head. 

“Good. Do what I say, and I won’t have to hurt you,” he growled. “Tell me you understand.”

Ronan Carr took a deep, steadying breath. “I understand.” The man’s voice quavered, but he didn’t panic. Some people became paralyzed with fear and that made interrogation harder. If Carr could keep it together, this would be over quickly.

“Untie yourself.”

Despite Mistress Anassa’s speech about trust and surrender, her words were meaningless sentiment. Ronan Carr had never given up control. The scarves were tied with enough slack that he could easily lift his hands over the headrest and pull free the knots at his wrists. After that, he only needed to lean forward to release his ankles.     

“Where is everyone?” Carr asked nervously, massaging his wrists.

The man was wiry, more muscular than the bounty hunter expected from someone who spent his life behind a desk. Intimidation was his best tactic to keep Carr in check. Use of physical force would only complicate things. And he made a deal with Anassa.

“You don’t need to know what I did with them. Worry about yourself.”

After a lifetime of doing this work, Mando knew most people’s imagination was far darker than any threat he could make. The man looked at the blood splattered across his helmet, and all the color drained from Ronan Carr’s face.

“What is it you want?”

“I need something, and you’re the person who can get it for me.”

“My wife—”

“This has nothing to do with the Senator. And it doesn’t have to. You give me what I want, and she won’t discover what you get up to under the name ‘Kirk Satu.’” Carr’s eyes went wide with horror. “The piss play makes for an awkward conversation, but I think all the bank transfers will be harder to explain.”  

Now, he had the man’s full attention. “What do you want?”

“First, I want you to put some clothes on. Meet me in the study when you’re ready.”

The man’s suit hung neatly from the bathroom door, yet he stared at the garment like it might transform into a torture device. 

“You’re not—you aren’t going to lock me in?”

“We both know you won’t run,” Mando said. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Then you can forget all about this.”

The look on Carr’s face when he walked into the study made it clear this encounter would haunt him for some time. 

“Is your communicator on?” Nito asked from behind his data-pad. “Your real one. Not the burner?”

“What?” Ronan Carr stammered. “I–yes.” When the notification bell chimed, he pulled the device out from his pocket.

“Okay, read me the security code.”

“Wait! This is about work? You want something from the Archives?” 

Carr looked between Nito and the Mandalorian.

“You do realize the New Republic Library doesn’t store any military or intelligence records. This is not…what could you possibly need that isn’t already publicly available?”

Mando thrust his blaster in the man’s face. “Ask me about my business again and see what happens to you.”

“The security code?” Nito drolled.

Mando grabbed the communicator from Carr and handed it to the Ardennian.

“I’m just…we have a records request system online…”

“For redacted documents!” Nito howled. “If you guys just uploaded everything onto the Net, you could enjoy your tickle party and we wouldn’t be here.”

Ronan Carr’s face turned scarlet. “It’s our responsibility to make sure sensitive information doesn’t fall into the hands of…criminals.”

What a fucking hypocrite. “Can we hurry this up?” Mando barked. The fact that the bodyguards in the foyer hadn’t burst into the penthouse meant that Mistress Anassa had done her part. But their luck wouldn’t last long.

“Well, it’s not my fault the file structure isn’t intuitive,” Nito looked at Ronan Carr with disgust. “And you call yourself an Archivist?”

“I–I don’t oversee information architecture.”

“Ah! Okay…security question for the download. What is the name of your first pet?”

When Nito had the files he needed, Mando thrust a disc into Carr’s hands.

“What—?”

“I lied when I said this didn’t involve your wife. That’s for her. From a former Rebel fighter, Ubaa Dir. Remember the name. The next time you hear it, give the Senator that disc. You’ll know when.”

“How will I explain—”

“You’d rather explain the sex workers and money laundering? Figure–it—out,” Mando snapped, and Ronan Carr jumped.

This time, the Mandalorian did lock him inside the bedroom.  

He found Mistress Anassa in the living room, offering the Child sugar cubes from an abandoned tea service tray.

"I'm done here," Mando said, watching as the kid delightedly crunched the crystals between his teeth. "He's unharmed, as per the terms of our deal. Are you satisfied?"

"Very," she smiled serenely at him. "I thought I'd be spending the night cleaning brain matter off the walls. Instead, I got to play with an adorable baby."

Anassa lifted the Child from her hip and handed him back to the Mandalorian.

"You still want me to bind and gag you?" Mando asked. "I could just lock you inside, like I did with Carr?"

"No," she shook her head. "I've got to sell this if there's a chance I can retain his trust. And he'll need a witness to help explain what happened to the guards." Mistress Anassa looked thoughtfully at the Mandalorian. "When life hands you an opportunity, it's best to seize it with both hands."

"Very well." Mando reached for the plush, decorative rope tying back the curtains—he could at least ensure that she was comfortable.

"Speaking of which," the Mistress grinned. "I do hope you'll reconsider my offer. There are a number of ways we could leverage your particular talents at the Dark Garden."

The Mandalorian offered her a chair.

"After listening to the ruthlessness in your voice saying, You're going to give me what I want..." she shivered rather theatrically. "Fear is a very potent form of arousal. I'm confident we could find clients looking for nothing more than degradation."

The audacity of her proposal impressed him, and his mouth quirked into a begrudging smile beneath the Beskar helmet.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"And what knots do you plan to use?"

Mando huffed—not quite a laugh. This was beginning to feel like an audition. "A bowline. But I can use a hitch knot if you prefer?"

"Merely professional curiosity," Mistress Anassa grinned, sitting in the armchair as though it were a throne. "Do you have a suggestion for the gag?"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, "Give me your necktie."

He wasn't entirely comfortable with how much keen interest lit up her face. A businesswoman through and through.

She hurriedly fished something out of her suit pocket. "Take my card. You're a working father, after all. It pays to be flexible when there are mouths to feed."

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

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #5: Wish You Were Here!

Back to Volume 4 - all posts

[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Thirteen: Princess and the Frog

You were bored, out of your mind. So bored that you had started to juggle which wasn’t something you had done since you were maybe three.

Your mothers had sent Duncan and you to an acrobat camp because your fathers wanted you to get stronger in your upper body.

The tiny rubber spheres flew into your hands and back up again with practiced ease. You were so caught up in watching them fly you didn’t notice the chocolate covered underwear that just flew in front of you. But then you did. 

Your eyes quickly found the redhead responsible. “Harold, what the hell.” You let the balls fall into your hands and you had half the mind to throw them at the boy. Despite his protests you walked away now annoyed.

But before you could get very far you heard Chef Hatchet on the speakers calling you to the dock of shame.

The way he was talking didn’t have you excited. 

As you lightly jogged over to the dock you saw your green-haired devil who was walking on his hands beside Geoff. “Hey cutie.” You resumed juggling. “Hey darling.” Duncan said as his hands felt the difference from the grass to the hard boards. 

“Just kiss already, geeze.” Geoff rolled his eyes as you all lined up. 

“You call this proper formation!” Chef Hatchet was losing his absolute mind. His stick whapped everybody no matter what they were doing. T

he stick hit Duncan’s arms making them fall down, you noticed his body tense. Memories of his father were surely coursing through him. “No fun?” Chef yelled, sounding confused on why the balls were in your hands and he quickly threw them in the water, his stick hit your thigh making you stand on both legs at attention. 

You were going to start yelling.

“Shut up.” Duncan hissed beside you, he was not going to let you lose your cool on Chef, not today. You both had gone to a million military schools. You’ve had worse teachers than this. One lady actually had fourteen-year-old Duncan and you ran fifty laps while carrying twenty pound bags.

Do you want to know why?

Because you asked when lunch was.

“Today’s challenge will not be an easy one. In fact I do not expect everyone to come out alive.” Chef yelled into the megaphone making the sound ring in your ears.

When faced with trauma people deal with it in a multitude of ways. Some revert into a submissive state, some fight back with a vengeance, some deal with it with laughter, some turn themselves off.

Duncan and you were the last too. 

Your mind was quiet and your face went blank and you had a rigid posture.

Three years ago

“You are a grown adult so act like it. My training will make you stronger than you ever were before, youngling.” The man got close to your face and spit flying across your cheeks, you nodded.

“We are fourteen? The only thing making us stronger is milk… sir.” Duncan winked and the man hit him across the face without a second thought.

Duncan on the other hand was… pissed.

“My orders are to make sure every baby here drops out of my boot camp. Except one.” He yelled through the megaphone and your eye twitched. “The last one standing wins immunity for their team.” He whipped Owen.

Then he began down his set of rules. “Yes, Master Chief.” God, that sound was too familiar, you cringed at your words. 

The first challenge was to hold a boat over your heads for as long as physically possible. But Chris wanted you to do another monologue bit in the outhouse.

—

“I am an obedient soldier. No matter if I want to or not.” You muttered staring at the camera, you held your hands as if trying to wring the sweat out of them, your leg shaking anxiously. You were trained at a very early age. Your wants, and needs? Didn’t matter. “

—

Master Chief explained the rules of the challenge and Gwen watched as Duncan directed you towards the canoe, his hands were on your hips as if you were blind and couldn’t see. She noticed that there was something going on in your mind. Some unseen battle.

You lifted the canoe above your head and had to laugh when Owen and Geoff thought this would be easy. 

—

“Come on you sissies you’ve only been at it for three hours.” Chef yelled at you and you noticed how weak the other team was becoming. Duncan had an abusive father, and you’ve had to take care of a man who was supposed to take care of you since you were five. You were beyond used to pain.

Geoff caught Harold's underwear.

Harold took his hands off the boat. 

What a stupid, stupid, man.

“Is there a problem here?” Chef’s head bent down to look at you spit flew on your face and you almost lost it right there. This was too familiar.

—

The moon was bright above you.

Duncan had his chin tucked into your collarbone. He was snoring softly. He knew you wouldn’t fall, you never did. Lindsay on the other hand, lost the challenge for her team as she rang the bell. “Wake up, tiger.” You whispered as your team dropped the canoe gratefully. “I’m up, I’m up baby.” Duncan’s voice was filled with a rasp that made your heart skip a beat.

Chef and Chris had you all go to the cafeteria and you stared at the trash cans in front of you. “You remember when my dad didn’t give me money to buy food that month after my mom died, so I had to eat from the trash.” You chuckled into your palm smiling at the memory. “Fucking racoon.” Duncan laughed much to Courtney’s horror.

“You’ve got ten minutes to eat before night training.” Chef announced. 

The entire camp groaned at the mention of night training. Duncan shook his head and you wanted to start shaking with laughter. Gwen asked a VERY obvious question. “Where’s the food?” 

“Right here. At war you take what you can get!” Chef smiled, taking a lid off the trash. The rancid smell filled the room.

It was probably good that you were getting used to not eating. 

You went with Duncan as he pranked Harold for throwing the underwear at you. He gave him kitchen grease. Which was probably deadly but it’s okay. You rolled your eyes as Harold spit out the drink. “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, Tarun.” You put a hand on your hip.

“Okay look, I know you like me sweetheart. He knows you like me, everybody knows it.” Duncan leaned close, wrapping his arm around your waist causing you to smirk, booping him on the nose.

“So here’s a tip. You want to kiss me? I might let you.” He winked and you rolled your eyes blowing him a kiss. “In your dreams, baby. But don’t let me stop you from dreaming.” 

Geoff gave Duncan a look as you went back to talk to Bridgette who had asked you to help her do something with the trash.

“Oh you're in love aren’t you man?” Geoff noticed the look the green-haired boy gave you. “None of your business, blondie.” Duncan ran a hand through his hair.

—

You were having dance classes at two in the morning.

By a man in military clothing.

Still not the strangest thing you’ve done to be honest.

You looked to your side but Duncan had disappeared, he reappeared next to the boom-box and turned it off. Chef screamed at him. “Tarun what are you doing?” You yelled at him.

“If someone drops out, we’re done for the day.” Duncan said matter of factly. “You're done when I say you're done.” Chef yelled, ordering him to do 20 pushups. 

That’s strange.

Duncan does one hundred pushups every morning. 

(Juvie habits)

“Anyone else have something they want to say?” Chef challenged the campers surrounding him. Gwen went to the restroom. Suddenly before you could stop yourself you raised your hand. Chef raised an eyebrow as did Duncan. You didn’t ever challenge authority.

“Can I do twenty as well?” Your face broke into a small smile and Duncan almost leapt with joy. 

Chef ordered you to do twenty and you bent down next to the boy. “Oh my days, did I just see a certain girl disobey her superiors? When did you learn how to do that?” Duncan smiled as he did his twenty in sync with you.

The music continued.

“I do a lot of things for people I have crushes on. Thought you knew that, Tarun.” You winked and he had to stop his twenty because did you just say what he thinks you just said?

—-

Chef put you in the cafeteria again and he ordered you to write a three-hundred-word essay on why ‘he was the best’. You’ve had a lot of vain people be in charge of you. But that’s a whole other level.

It was three a.m, by the time everyone was done. 

Honestly your essay wasn’t even about Chef Hatchet.

It was about the idiot beside you.

Just instead of writing Duncan you put ‘Master Chief. It worked, it worked REALLY well actually. “She’s my new favorite.” Chef declared. “Teacher's pet.” Duncan yawned and you smiled innocently.

Duncan of course had to challenge the teacher.

God he never grew up.

You of course had to save him. “No, he’s going to go right to bed.” You dragged the boy away from the sergeant. “If you get eliminated I am going to murder you.” You jabbed a finger in his chest. “Didn’t know you cared, doll.” Duncan yawned again, he was amazed you were still up.

“I don’t. But if we lose this challenge because you are a rebellious idiot I will eat all of your hair gel.” You said. Duncan smirked, you talked a LOT of nonsense when you were tired. “Just don’t get yourself killed because I will make sure your mother beats you if you do.” You kissed his cheek and went to splash some water on your face.

“I love her.” Duncan muttered.

“No, really, bro?” Geoff rolled his eyes.

—

The next challenge was to complete a death-defying course in one minute. There was something familiar about this course which you didn’t remember until you were jumping from one head to another as you raced up the wall.

You were twelve the first time you did this course

Five years ago

“It’s unfair, really.” Duncan laughed as he watched you fly through the obstacle course which was made for grown adult men. “How so?” The counselor looked at him mildly confused, this was supposed to be a punishment drill.

“Acrobatics have always been her favorite thing.”

Duncan did extremely well on the course, he did it slowly on purpose, just so he could grate at Chef Hatchet’s nerves, which earned him one night of solitary confinement. 

He wasn’t even scared of the punishment. He was scared of what his stupid mind was going to conjure up for him. 

—

At dinner, breakfast, lunch, you don’t know anymore you're dead tired. You stirred the mush that was your food before declaring. “I’m going to go check on him. Idiots should not be alone for that long.” You stood up and Geoff smiled at you.

“Does little ole Y/N, have a crush?” he asked. “Clearly, now shush or I’ll gouge out your eyes. Ciao!” You winked when the boy paled.

You used your phone's flashlight to find the door to the boathouse.

“Oi, tiger, you in here?” You called out into the darkness before your eyes adjusted, you saw Duncan smiling at you though it was obvious he was shaking. “Heya princess, come to claim your kiss?” He winked.

“Actually yes, maybe you’ll turn into a prince. I brought food.” You handed him the bowl as you sat down.

“I prefer bait.”

You giggle rolling your eyes. “I hate how I love your laugh.” He said in what you believed was mock amazement. It indeed was not. “I don’t get you, Duncan. How do you egg adults on like that?” You had to laugh. That was your number one fear. Adults.

“You're the one that doesn’t make sense. You're so free when it comes to kids our age. But the second it's an adult you clam up, and turn into a soldier, it’s crazy.” Duncan laughed in bewilderment. “I think it’s because I’m so used to taking care of them.” you shrugged your shoulders.

“You wanna ditch the shack for some pb&j’s?” Duncan asked.

“This isn’t you just trying to get me to eat, is it?” You leveled a fish as if you would smack him with it. “No? I’m hungry too, it’s not always about you.” he said quite dramatically. (He was just trying to get you to eat)

You snuck into the counseling tent and stole a bunch of food.

Also alcohol.

Lots.

—

You were sharing the food with everyone. Duncan and Geoff were busy pranking Harold so he didn’t notice how many drinks you had. (Five shots of vodka to be precise) You were grabbing another one and before Bridgette could protest you chugged that one too.

“That was a mistake.” 

You quickly threw the contents of your stomach over the railing and Duncan walked out feeling a mild sense of worry.

“So the perfect soldier can be a kid sometimes too?” He smiled holding your hair back. You smiled clearly, still a bit drunk as you sat back up.

He gave you a bunch of peppermints. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been free like that, tiger.” You giggled. “I just want more.” You sighed wistfully.

“You could always give me that kiss, princess.” He cupped your chin smiling. “Are we sure that you're my type?” You questioned ruffling his hair and he leaned into your hand.

“Enjoy a funless life then.” He smiled dramatically, turning his back on you. “Enjoy prison, I’m sure the army would love to finally have me.” You smirked.

--

|Trending on X right now|

#whatishappening

#isthisheaven

#PRINCESSANDTHEFROGOMFG

#imcryingtheyaresoperfect

#madeforeachother?

--

“Oh you’d never leave me. Who’d make you laugh-” He whined his eyes shut and just like that you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a kiss, a long one.

“Lucky for you we’ll never find out, baby.” You kissed him one more time and skipped away.

“LET’S GO MAN!” Geoff, Duncan, and DJ were losing their minds.

You smiled. Unbeknownst to you, Harold had been watching you, and he wanted revenge on Duncan… but from the side..? You look like an exact replica of Courtney.

The next challenge was a bore. All you had to do was hang upside down. Duncan got out first, weirdly enough. This was something you had practice with. You loved hanging upside down. It felt strangely amazing.

That was for the first thirty minutes. But after having a lot of alcohol. You have to come down.

So you guys lost.

At the campfire that night the strangest thing happened…

Courtney was voted out!

Duncan and you were confused.

Geoff and Bridgette were also confused.

Harold smiled.

[sl-walker]

Today in Lines I Loved Writing

From the second chapter of Stardust:

“Heads up!” Ted shouted, cheerily, swinging off of a catwalk like some kind of acrobat, only to smack Random Henchman #3 -- on a shelf below him beside an open crate -- in the middle of his back with both boots, which--

--sent him flying down right into Booster’s outstretched arm, who clotheslined him neatly, saving him from a potentially bone-crunching meeting with the floor. “And down!”  The henchman dropped in a heap with a grunt and wheeze.  Booster winced, looking down at the guy.  “Oooh, might wanna watch the face, those ski-masks aren’t really much protection.”

Random Henchman #5 was running for the doors after #4 tripped and tumbled, because it had frankly only taken three minutes of chasing them around the warehouse to take most of them down.  “Grab him?” Ted asked, sounded surprisingly winded, and Booster glanced down at the guy he’d just dropped before taking off after the one running.

It was a quick collar -- literally! -- and just so he wouldn’t have to babysit, Booster hoisted and hung that guy off of a pulley by the leather belt he was wearing before flying back to make sure #3 and #4 were still subdued along with the others.

In the meantime, the Blue Beetle wasn’t looking so good even in the dim light; he was still hanging from the catwalk and something about his pallor was alarming.  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Booster asked, wasting no time flying over there.

Ted’s skin was sweaty where it was exposed, and up close, he was clearly having an incredibly hard time holding himself up. “Heart.  Ride down?” he panted, and sagged with a grateful sounding sigh when Booster took his weight and he could let go of the catwalk. “I’ll be okay,” he said, shivering. “Just need to lay down.”

Booster was less convinced, but he landed them soft and didn’t let his alarm show when Ted literally stretched out on the floor of the warehouse, thumping against his chest with the side of his fist.

“--should I tie them up?” Booster asked, even as he hit his wrist-comm. “Skeets, call the police, send ‘em to our position?  Then hone in on my position and get here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, please,” Ted said, though he had picked up his head and was watching; he beamed despite looking like hell. “Do I get to meet your robot?!”

Booster smiled, shaking his head, and went to go figure out how to secure their random henchpeople.  “Your lucky night.  Hey, do you have anything I can use as handcuffs?”

Ted fished something out of that thigh holster, then held up a handful of zip ties that were sticking out of his fist like porcupine quills. “These work?”

“You came to a bust with zip ties?  And while I’m at it, do you actually keep a gun in there, or is it just like your all-purpose junk drawer?”

“Actually, I do have a gun!  It’s called the BB gun, because I’m clever like that.”  Ted let his head rest back on the floor and took a slower, more even-sounding breath.  “But yeah, I also stick random stuff in there because I don’t have pockets.  It’s got pouches in its pouch,” he added, with a snicker. “Like a Liefeld comic.”

Booster didn’t get the reference, but he did happen to think the word pouch was funny, which was why he was giggling like a twelve-year-old as he zip-tied their disgruntled henchfolk.  “And don’t want any civilian games of guess that lump?”

“Give the man a cookie!”

“I’ll settle for some all-night diner pancakes, but if a cookie’s all I’m getting for saving your butt--”

“It’ll be one of those really big cookies.”

“They do make some impressively sized baked goods in this era,” Skeets said, zipping through the half-open man door. “Also, the police will be here in approximately forty-five seconds.”

“Skeets!”  Booster grinned, then nodded back towards where Ted was sitting up gingerly. “Your new biggest fan ever wants to meet you.”

Skeets paused for a moment mid-air, a barely noticeable hesitation, then flew over to hover in front of Ted, offering a cordial, “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Blue Beetle.”

Ted made a noise that Booster might’ve ascribed to an overly excited young dog being shown a new toy.  Like-- maybe a verbal flail of excitement, if that was a thing.  Then he said, “You are so cool.  Booster!  I’ll buy the pancakes if the ‘bot comes with us!”

Booster sat back on his heels and watched, even as the sound of vehicles roaring up outside filtered in; something about the scene -- Ted sitting there in wide-eyed wonder and Skeets hovering at eye level -- grabbed him by the heart.  Good, mixed.  “Blueberry pancakes?” he asked, rising to his feet so he could go lead the cops in.

“Pal, I’ll get you the whole damn blueberry bush.”

“Deal!”

--

Why I loved writing them: OMG, the dialogue. I've had the fortune of occasionally having pairs of characters who, if you give them even the barest kind of space, will take a scene and run away with it. And writing Booster and Beetle is just like that; one of them starts, the other builds on it, and then they just keep going, rolling it along and chasing it down the road.

So, I had fun having Ted taking a potshot at Rob Liefeld because I cut my teeth on comics in the 90s and don't even get me started. For all those fans out there who might be unfamiliar, Liefeld's not like-- the only reason 90s comics are just Like That, but he was a big contributor of it. Like, I really can draw a very clear, unambiguous line between Cable's design and Booster's look post-Overmaster arc. It's not even subtle. So, everyone who ever squinted at that really godawful run of really bad design, you almost have to blame it on Liefeld.

Ahem. Anyway. The other part is the whole bit--

“Give the man a cookie!”

“I’ll settle for some all-night diner pancakes, but if a cookie’s all I’m getting for saving your butt--”

“It’ll be one of those really big cookies.”

--starting with that. It's not the first example of those two kind of 'yes, and'ing' each other in the story, their introduction to each other was the first, but it serves as a good illustration of their easy patter and ability to build on one another. And there's something super charming about them basically turning a joking bit of banter into a decision to go out to eat together, which leads to them spending almost the whole day together, which--

I've also had friendships like that, albeit without the unresolved romantic tension. But where you just enjoy the other person's company so much that you don't want to let them go. LOL! @b-radley66 can attest. @shadowmaat can, too. And many, many other people over the years.

And finally, I just also really love the mental image of Ted and Skeets meeting, just as much as I love Booster's reaction to it.

[boasamishipper]

my personal favorite highlights from the official top gun: maverick script:

meek engineer's name is simon and is dating someone at the pentagon which is how they found out about the drone ranger coming to shut the darkstar project down

"That's...blue sky up there, Mav." "Yeah, but dark blue. Ominous."

mav also called darkstar 'angel' and 'girl' which i'm glad they cut otherwise i would have died in the theater then and there

"Hondo stares at his monitor. He knows his friend well." 🥺🥺🥺

"y'all built one hell of a plane" oh mav ❤️

"For anyone unfamiliar, it’s obvious there is story here - Glory and ghosts." g o d

admiral's aide do you MIND he's having a MOMENT

warlock is described as "an affable, brilliant two-star" hell yeah

i personally think it's hilarious that cyclone was apparently top of his class in '88 but in the script he's in his forties?? even if he's 49 the film takes place in 2019?? that would make him 18 in 1988?? mr mcquarrie sir the math ain't mathing

"Maverick has had about enough of this shit" if that doesn't just sum up both movies

as a macheresin shipper the fact that hangman and coyote were planned as besties from the get-go,,,,,,,my heart is Full

"sorry i couldn't be there" oh ice 🥺🥺🥺

mcq's love for casablanca continues to shine through

penny's dad is alive and retired and still hates mav

"Keepin’ it tight, I see, Phoenix" hangman is such an ASSHOLE i HATE him (affectionate)

bob's description is "human wallpaper" i am DYING

"shit, that's fritz" i DEMAND to know why fritz's arrival elicited that reaction from fanboy!! show me the fritz&b-team daggers cut!!

"Maverick sees a ghost. From this angle, the kid is a dead ringer for Goose, just as gawky and gangly, loving life." and what if i Bawled

MAVERICK REQUESTED HONDO SPECIFICALLY

HONDO WAS GONNA MEET UP WITH A LADY IN RENO WHO IS 'AN ACROBAT' AND 'VERY FLEXIBLE'

"I need at least one person on my side here" MAV

"I'll stand somewhere else" HONDO

mav originally ran the entire class through the contents of the F-18 NATOPS 👀👀👀

in the original script rooster gave hangman his callsign...personally gonna stick with the headcanon that phoenix (if it had to be one of the daggers) was the one who gave it to him, but Very Interesting nonetheless.

rooster calls phoenix 'fee' brb peppering this into All my fics

PHOENIX IS THE MAV OF THE MOVIE CONFIRMED

I DEMAND TO KNOW IF THERE IS FOOTAGE OF GLEN POWELL SINGING 'HOT FOR TEACHER'

genuinely cannot believe mcq wrote this. he is on galaxy tier levels of thinking i could never even hope to reach.

rooster being protective of phoenix you know that's right

theo the yellow lab was originally named "t" in the script,,,,,,,,t for tony scott,,,,,,,,,

"You're a warrior, Ice. A fighter." bury me ALIVE

"(Note: Important we include PILOT POV establishing gray-out in the lead up to G-LOCK)" this script is tighter than a snare drum

"Kinda like your ass depended on it" GET HIS ASS MAV

phoenix and bob refuse to even IMPLY that mav was in any way at fault for them having to eject,,,,,,,,they are Ride Or Die

as a warlock/hondo shipper i am also Delighted they actually got some screentime together

MAV WAS SUPPOSED TO GIVE THE EULOGY AT ICE'S FUNERAL 😭😭😭😭😭

mav and hangman were apparently supposed to talk after mav chose hangman as his wingman but i'm glad that scene got cut because a) showing vs telling and b) hangman is Not emotionally aware or mature enough to say what he says here out loud and you can't convince me otherwise

"Hondo stares at him. Maverick stares back. Something unspoken passes between the two men." and mavhondo shippers everywhere rejoiced

"HONDO squeezes his fist tightly, feeling something crack. He opens his hand to see the crystal of his stopwatch is crushed, the second hand frozen. An omen." HEY MCQ WHAT THE FUCK

"CLOSE ON Hondo, reflecting on his last moment with Mav." see above

"How we gonna get this bag’a ass in the air?" "Just hang on. Cause this bag‘a ass is about to go ballistic."

"Rough Rider, this is, uh...Ghost Rider" *cries in callbacks*

"The minute Hangman touches down, pull the trip wires and have the barricade stanchions ready." (silence) "HE DOESN'T HAVE A GODDAMN TAILHOOK." (OH SHIT FUCK OKAY RUNNING NOW)

lowkey like the parallel between cyclone nodding at mav and hangman and rooster shaking hands. they still don't like each other, but they respect each other a little more now. as the script says, that's enough.

"Among the pictures is one of Goose and Maverick in the bloom of their youth - their whole lives ahead of them." 😭😭😭😭😭

WE WERE ROBBED OF PHOENIX JOINING ROOSTER AND PENNY AND AMELIA AND MAV AT THE HANGAR I REPEAT WE WERE R O B B E D

"TIME CUT as Phoenix holds two model planes, demonstrating air to-air combat to a very interested Amelia." ooooh amelia has a cruuuuuush

"Rooster turns, looks at the make-shift family taking shape in this makeshift home…And he smiles." 😭😭😭😭😭

[siamesephoenixrandomideatank]

[Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss Characters as People of the Four Nations(Avatar)] (Based on Pre-Korra)

Charlie: Fire Princess.(Anti-Azula)

Vaggie: A Kyoshi Warrior.

Angel Dust: North Water Tribe, an unskilled bender.

Husk: Renegade/Excommunicated Airbender, disguised as nonbender of Earth Kingdom.

Nifty: Fire National maid. Losing an eye from the pirate raid.

Sir Pentious: A goofy guy from Swampy Tribe, moved to the southern region of the Earth Kingdom.

Alastor: Nonbender, but understand all philosophy of the four elements.(Like Iroh + The Hermit's unholy mix)

Lucifer: A Widowed Fire Lord. Weak claim.

Velvette: One of the few female Dai Li with nobility and respected rank.

Valentino: A brothel owner in Ba Sing Se. Having connection with Dai Li.

Vox: A nonbender of an unknown origin, working with pirates and merchants.

Adam: Corrupted Fire Sage/Noble.(Like Admiral Zhao)

I.M.P.: Blitzo is an excommunicated airbender(he might even be the Avatar), Millie a nonbending acrobatic fire national, Moxxie a nonbending Earth Citizen specialistic in a weapon, and Loona a Waterbender with a preference for positive Jing.