#he was experimented on in order to be smarter

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

I love Teen Titans Beast Boy but now that I know that Beast Boy is actually really really smart, as much as I love his comedic potential, or how he played the comedic relief in the Teen Titans comics...I feel like dumbing him down was really...idk lazy writing

I mean okay if the rest of the cast thinks Beast Boy is dumb because he plays class clown all the time and generally people don't equate humor with intelligence (which is wrong because intelligent people do have a sense of humor. You gotta be pretty witty to be able to make people laugh. Idk why we think like this) that would be okay but it's pretty clear in the original Teen Titans show with the many puns of how Beast Boy doesn't have a brain and how he was easily brainwashed by Mad Mod that...it's not him acting dumb, it's really the show making fun of his lack of intelligence compared to the rest of the cast...and that ain't cool

I still have an affection for Teen Titans show Beast Boy, but I actually want to see Beast Boy being used at his fullest potential with his comedy and his intelligence.

It seems Young Justice and Titans might be doing that. I love the personality that Garfield shows in DC Titans. How he's so into vintage things, old games, and movies. Ugh, I love that! He's so cool and rad!

And I love how Young Justice really showcases him as a leader (though Idk doesn't his character try to avoid that because of the abuse he went through with Mento and his earlier guardians. Young Justice focuses a lot on Beast Boy's trauma over the losses in his life but there's no mention of the fact that Garfield was also a victim of abuse as a child and how much that affected him. Either way, it's great they're exploring his depression. I think that's awesome! Along with how he created the Outsiders instead of having Batman do that...of course, it's later revealed that Batman and co. have been manipulating events to make the Outsiders prominent to the public but...I still think in YJ, the Outsiders was Beast Boy's invention and I love how much of a major role he plays in YJ. I hope if they renew another season we see more of him instead of just focusing on the old cast members, just focus on more of the newer generation like Beast Boy, Blue Beetle, Kid Flash, Wonder Girl, Robin (Tim Drake), El Dorado, Halo, and Forager.

Anyway, I'm ranting...if these mediums don't satisfy me, I'm just gonna go look for the Garfield Logan comics because I mean I think he's so underrated and he must be a lot more considering all the versions I see of him. Just wish someone would focus on both the comedy and the intelligence he has. YJ does show a more intelligent and serious Gar, but where's the comedy? Hopefully, in the future we'll see it... and I haven't finished Titans to give a good diagnosis of what my final thoughts on Gar is just yet in that show. Teen Titans cartoon though, as much as I love him as a comedic relief, it's unfair that they keep making jokes about his intelligence. He's actually a very smart kid.

I mean I think I read a post that said his IQ was 143, both his biological parents were genius scientists and he was experimented on in order to be smarter...just like Cyborg actually. I mean, of course, Garfield is smart! Unless I'm confusing him with someone else?

[hijackalx]

Headcanon thingy, but how would the companions + Gortash react to their lover taking a blow meant for them? (Sweetheart survives, but they'll definitely need some time to recover)

this post would get realllyyyy long if i did all the companions so i did the male companions + gortash, but let me know if u want me to do a separate one for the female companions too 💗💗

GN!reader, small mentions of violence

GORTASH

he’d prefer for you steer clear of any conflict— he considers it beneath you to get your hands dirty— but he doesn’t like to argue. he imagines one of these times you’ll learn your lesson, meaning he’s fully expecting you to come crawling back after a good whooping while promising to never do it again

when he’s approached by an angry subordinate, shaking their fist and yelling profanities at him, he easily maintains composure— he knows his steel watch could reduce anyone to a skid mark on the earth with a simple command. his scrappy sidekick however…………… 👹

he’s only slightly embarrassed when you jump in front of the aggressor, telling them off for their disrespect. suddenly their anger is directed towards you, resulting in a nasty pop to the face that sends you onto the floor. his eyes widen at the sight of you injured for his sake, and with one sharp inhale, he orders his steel watch to destroy your attacker. (and their family. and their friends. and their acquaintances)

he stays at your side while you get bandaged up, threatening the healer’s life every time you wince. he asks what you learned from this experience, hopeful. you think “i need a thicker skull” probably wasn’t the right answer, seeing as his immediate response is “🗿” LMAO

WYLL

he loves to be the one who swoops in and saves you. it really gives him that “heroic” feeling (even if you have to pretend to be his damsel in distress). you guys are always giving your enemies the ick 😹😹

this all goes to his head though, and he can get a little too cocky— like when he jumps in to take on too many enemies at once, and is clearly having a hard time defending you both. he tries to maintain his heroic persona, but you can’t help noticing how you two are getting backed into a corner

while he’s distracted and putting on a show of chivalry, you see an enemy going straight for his blind spot. it’s too late to retaliate, but you do have enough time to jump out in front of the attack. he watches you fall to the ground in pain, HORRIFIED by the fact that he failed to protect you. he forgets his knightly act in a fit of desperation, fighting as dirty as he needs to so you two have the opportunity to scamper away

he criticizes himself SO badly over your injuries. the hit may have broke your face but his failure broke his soul... 💔 LMFAO. he vows to you that it’ll never happen again, and that he’ll be more vigilant than ever from then on out— cue his extremely rigorous and inspirational training montage

GALE

he usually stays toward the rear during battle, using long range magic attacks while you take care of things in the front. he’s not adept at wearing armor and his robes don’t offer much protection— it’s just smarter this way

now imagine how his feeble wizard bones begin to quake when an enemy sneaks past you and sprints his way with a melee attack LMFAO. he’s a planner, not an improviser, so his brain races a million miles a minute trying to think of which spell to use. he needs to cast something powerful, but your close proximity makes him hesitate

you notice his stutter and quickly reach out to off the enemy. unfortunately, this results in you turning your back to another and opening yourself up to a sneak attack. you’re hit hard, and it takes you out of the fight. luckily, the last enemy has 1 HP, so he can easily finish them off with a hasty bop on the head from his staff 💥

afterwards, he’s STRICKEN with worry, cradling your face and trying to get you to speak to him clearly. once he realizes that your injury is healable, you get whiplash from how fast he switches back and forth between admiration and concern. “that was absolutely amazing! 🤩 ” “I THOUGHT YOU DIED!!! 😵”

ASTARION

you guys are super playful in battle. seeing who can kill the most enemies, doing fun combos together, trash talking (it’s giving legolas and gimli). fights with him on your team are rarely serious

he’s quick and alert, so he’s an expert at dodging attacks— it just so happens that you’re standing behind him one of these times, and you end up taking the full force of the blow in his place. he’s used to teasing you for your misfortunes in battle, so his first instinct is to point and laugh 😭

when you don’t get up and give him a bloodstained grin, he realizes something is seriously wrong. a wave of panic washes over him, and the last thing he remembers is switching into feral vampire mode to get you two out of there safely— i’m talking ripping out throats with his teeth 👹

you’re immediately scolded once you come to; “imagine how bad that could’ve been!”, and “you scared me half to death!”— a.k.a he feels SO BAD for letting this happen LMAO, and he 100% blames himself for not knowing you were behind him. he admits it was his fault after you promise to be more careful, and he promises that he will be too (with a little leg room for fun, of course)

[tremendously-crazy]

"You can't hate on an entire Sherlock Holmes adaptation just because of how they interpret Irene Norton (nee Adler)-" SHUT UP.

I will hate on an adaptation if it does the following:

makes Irene a love interest for Sherlock Holmes (whether realized or not).

First of all, Holmes is NOT attracted to women, and never experiences a smidgen of attraction towards them in the original stories. ACD could have very easily written him a love interest, but CHOSE NOT TO because it went against the idea of his character. He was never attracted towards women.

Second of all, Irene Adler isn't even Irene Adler. Her name is Irene NORTON. Do you want to know why? Because she's LITERALLY MARRIED. TO A LAWYER NAMED GODFREY NORTON. She already has a husband who she loves very much! She does not love Holmes!

Thirdly, a man can feel admiration for a woman without being attracted to her. Watson literally says in the first part of A Scandal in Bohemia that he didn't feel any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler!!

2. makes Irene into some sort of femme fatalle/sexually appealing

This implies that women can only be smarter than men if they are attractive/hot. That, in order for a woman to be successful, she has to provide something for a man.

Edit: this doesn't mean that she ISNT attractive. She is beautiful and enthralling, which is what makes the king fall for her in the first place. What I mean is when Irene becomes a SEXUALIZED character.

Doing this means she can't just be a smart woman, but that she has to be sexually attractive and mysterious, too! DOING THIS REDUCES HER INTO AN OBJECT OF DESIRE!!!

3. makes her weak/makes her get outsmarted by Holmes

Im not sure if any adaptations have actually done this. But if so. Absolutely not. She challenges Holmes's misogynistic ideals and to reform his views. Because Holmes views women as softer, weaker, and less intelligent (when they are NOT!!) And Irene helps to teach him this. Her lesson is effective!! Because Holmes stops making fun of women. And he changes his ways. Why would you make her weaker? She's SUPPOSED to beat Holmes.

If it does this or anything else I will NOT view the adaptation. You can tell a lot about the adaptors, their respect and accuracy while depicting the original stories, and how they view women, through their interpretation of Irene Norton. She is the most famous female character in the series, after all. Do her RIGHT! READ A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA BEFORE YOU ADAPT! And if you still make these amateur mistakes, you shouldn't be adapting Sherlock Holmes at all.

[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention of him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

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

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[misseviehyde]

THE RILEY EXPERIMENT

(Based on ip that Mana Omega kindly has allowed me to use.)

Riley Green wished his Dad had never remarried. It wasn't that he disliked his step-mom Rachel Grey, it was her bitchy daughter Riley that made his life feel like hell. Thanks to the marriage, they were now two teens exactly the same age, in the same class at school and now even living together in the same house.

But despite those superficial similarities, they couldn't be two more different people.

Firstly; it was incredibly annoying having the same name as your step-sister. Packages were constantly arriving at the house for the female Riley and if male Riley forgot to check the label properly, he'd often find himself holding a bra or a sexy tight fitting bodystocking from Shein or Pretty Little Thing.

Much to his embarrassment, Riley had found himself keeping one of the bras. It was a 34D leopard skin print bra. He would sometimes jerk off whilst wearing it; not really sure why he found the thought of having Riley's big tits on his chest such a fucking turn on; but doing it anyway. He was definitely NOT gay, but there was something going on there that made him hard. He knew it was wrong to steal underwear, but somehow it just felt so good. Riley never commented on the bra going missing, maybe she thought it had gotten lost in the post.

After all, she wasn't very careful with money. Riley seemed to have a unlimited spend amount on her credit-card and was constantly buying new clothes to keep up with the popular girl fashions. She was basically a spoiled brat. If Mommy wouldn't buy it for her, she'd usually find some guy to give her what she wanted.

Riley was into social media and seemed to spend more time building up followers on Insta or Tiktok then doing anything useful with her life. Riley didn't think his step-sister was shallow, he knew she was. She seemed to date a new guy every week and as far as Riley could tell she was definitely sexually active. Sometimes he'd hear... noises from her room. Noises that made him really horny.

One night he'd heard a sexy low buzzing from her room. He'd lain propped up against the wall, his stolen bra stuffed with socks as he listened to his step-sister groan and moan and he jerked his cock to the sounds of her pleasure. She was obviously using a vibrator or magic wand and he wondered if one of the packages that had passed through his hands had actually been a sex-toy. It made him wish he had accidentally opened THAT package.

"Ohhhh fuck yeahhhh I'm soooo fucking wet, mmmmmmhhhh..."

He had cum so hard that night.

The thought of what he might do with a dildo or butt-plug made him blush. No... he was definitely straight, these were just some weird ideas he was sometimes having. It was all the fault of having such a slutty step-sister.

Indeed, the main problem with living with her was that Riley was so fucking hot. She had a big round bubble-butt, large firm breasts and a gorgeous face. She looked good in everything and she had the spoiled, knowing, mean girl bimbo look that made boys weak. She always wore the sexiest outfits, had long sexy nails and was the purist vision of toxic femininity possible. She loved to tease Riley, manipulate and use him. She seemed to get off on the power she had over him.

In fact - in order to differentiate between them, Riley had popularised the use of his hated nickname Ry. Now nearly everyone called him Ry and it sucked.

The two of them couldn't be more unalike. Riley was popular, hot, pretty and sexually confident - Ry was dorky, nervous, unconfident and a virgin.

About the only advantage Ry had over Riley was that he was smart. A lot smarter. In fact he was a bit of a genius. Riley had used that to her advantage though, swiftly learning that now they shared a house it was pretty easy to copy Ry's homework and manipulate him into helping her grades improve.

"Ohhh you're such a good step-brother," she'd purr as she got another A- on a paper. "Hey, did I mention I have some new social media photos I'd like you to 'examine' for me. Let me air-drop them to your phone.'

Riley had learned that if she provided images of herself, her step-brother would do whatever she wanted. He was addicted to her beauty and femininity - whilst she found his intelligence useful.

Getting her brother to cheat for her had paid dividends. In fact Riley's grades had improved SO much as a result of her using her step-brother, her Mom had promised she could go to a music festival with her slutty friends, provided she passed the final test.

The final test.

There would be no way to cheat on that. Riley's frustrations were evident. Her Step-Bro couldn't exactly sit the test for her and she wasn't smart enough to pass without cheating.

"Listen babe, you need to find a way to help me pass that test. I need to go to that music festival with my girlies. Find a way to make me smarter or something. Just imagine how hot I'll look in all the pictures I can send you."

Ry scratched his head. What was he supposed to do? You couldn't exactly make another person... smarter in under a week, could you?

Hmmmm, that jogged a strange memory. About a year ago, Ry had been following an interesting online science blog from a girl in another town. Laura Sims was another science prodigy (who he'd actually had a bit of a crush on). One day she'd just stopped posting, but he remembered her putting up some interesting ideas for a hi tech Crispr solution. The idea was the solution would eradicate genetic weaknesses in whoever drank it by taking the strengths from someone else's DNA.

It took a bit of searching - strangely Laura Sims no longer seemed to have much of an online presence. He found some information for a Laura Richie - some bitch from the same town who appeared to be living a life of decadence - but eventually succeeded in using the internet archives to find the page instead.

Laura had luckily uploaded her formula, hoping to 'open source' test it. He wondered why she'd taken everything down?

It didn't take long to create the formula. The advice from Laura was to try it before bed to give it time to activate. The main changes would come the day after. Riley looked on doubtfully as Ry took one of his head hairs and put it into the liquid. He gave it to her to drink. "This will give you my intelligence and smarts."

"Okay - if you're sure. I'll try anything to get to that festival."

Riley drank. "Ughhh, it tastes sour. Okay, let's hope this works. I'll go and start revising - maybe I'll get some early gains."

She left the room. As she did so, Ry noticed one of her long sexy head hairs had come free and was just lying there on the table. A terrible temptation overcame him. What if? What if he used the solution too? It wouldn't make him smart, but maybe it would make him more attractive and confident.

Feeling a little guilty, he dissolved the hair and drank the solution. It tasted sweet and his skin tingled, but nothing else seemed to happen. Weird... Riley had said it was sour.

Inside their bodies, the Crispr solution went to work. Riley's female DNA rushed through Ry's body, overwriting his cells. There was no melding here - no balancing. Riley's bitchy DNA was taking control and spreading like a wild-fire through his body.

Meanwhile Riley was also having her female cells consumed slowly and methodically by Ry's. The virus was even spreading to her brain, dendrites and synapses rewiring and altering to make her think like he did.

Now it was just a matter of waiting. The changes would soon be on their way

***

DAY ONE:

Waking up groggily, Riley had to admit she didn't feel great. Her whole body felt sluggish and weak, like she had a really bad cold. Walking to the mirror she despaired to see that her usually flawless skin seemed a bit blotchy and riddled with acne, similar to her dorky step-bros. What the hell was his stupid formula doing to her?

Looking down she blushed. Her tits seemed obscenely large on her chest. She couldn't believe she usually allowed herself to walk around flaunting them like this. It didn't normally bother her, but now for some reason it did. She searched through her wardobe and finding a hoody, slid it on.

Her eyes seemed to be struggling. Maybe it was the light in here? Switching on the lights she tiredly walked to her makeup vanity and paused. Makeup? What was the point of makeup? She was only going to study for a test today.

Ignoring her usual cleansing routines and preparations, Riley took down the large Maths text-book she was supposed to be studying and opened it up. It was only twenty minutes later, that she realised she had become engrossed in the book without even realising it.

Her usually flippant mind that jumped from subject to subject seemed sharper and more focused. Sitting down at her desk, she began to study in earnest.

***

Ry opened his eyes and slid easily out of bed. He was usually a night person, so to find not only that he had slept well, but that he didn't feel tired of fatigued was a revelation to him.

He actually felt fucking great this morning. The Crispr solution seemed to be working. Walking to the mirror, Ry grinned in satisfaction. His usually bad skin was clearer and ever so slightly tanned. He had a healthy glow for the first time in years.

In fact his whole body seemed more toned with a healthier shape. He hadn't put any muscle on as far as he could see, but proportionally, everything seemed 'better'. The only downsides were a strange itching and puffiness on his chest and a few other weird changes.

His ass seemed fatter and slightly bigger. His hair seemed to have increased in length and volume. It gave him a rather... feminine... shape. He ignored the strange thrill of delight that brought him.

"It's early days for these changes yet. I just need to give it more time. I'll probably fill out and look more manly in the next stage. Probably to be expected I'd mirror a few of Riley's assets."

He wondered how Riley was getting on...

***

"Amazing," giggled Riley in satisfaction. Her mind was definitely getting faster. The hot sweats had started again earlier and she was having even more difficulty seeing, but it didn't matter to her anymore because the knowledge she was experiencing was so captivating.

She rubbed at her chest. Her boobs were really aching. For some reason her bra didn't seem to fit... it kept dropping down loose. She knew that cup sizes did change, she'd alternated between a 32 and 34 bust for years - but this felt different.

Her boobs seemed noticeably smaller. She'd always been proud of her big bust, her massive tits. Now she felt smaller and weaker without them. Strangely her clit seemed engorged today though. She'd had to stop doing her studying a few times to rub at the stiff little nub between her legs. If she'd had a more active imagination she'd say it seemed to be growing... almost like a tiny little cock.

But that would be crazy... right?

***

Ry rubbed at his chest. There was definitely something there and it was growing at a faster rate now. Sweat dripped from his body and he could almost hear his bones cracking and shifting within his body. It felt... pleasurable and strangely addictive. A desire for more transformation and a faster change rose within him. It felt like something good was happening to him. He wanted more of it.

Ry felt feverish and knew that the Crispr solution was spreading through his body like a virus. It had now reached critical mass and the changes were accelerating. Riley's DNA should be merging with his own, but it didn't feel like that. Something was wrong... or was it... right?

His skin felt softer, his hips seemed to have pushed out wider. The lumps on his chest definitely felt like breasts and his hair had doubled in length again.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkk," he groaned as another series of pops and cracks within his body sent him into spasms of pleasure. "Uggggh, what's happening to me?"

His pushed his chest out and grunted... the bumps on his chest got even bigger.

***

"I can't fucking see," groaned Riley as she reached up to her face. Her vision was totally blurry now. Her body felt wrecked and strangely weak. She looked down. Her chest was smaller now... her once large D cup tits now barely a B cup.

Staggering to her mirror, Riley saw her hair looked shorter. Her skin was paler and her soft feminine features seemed a little more boyish. Her swollen clit had formed a little bulge in her leggings. She could almost imagine a pair of balls were growing underneath it and her pussy sealing up, but that would be crazy!

Riley massaged her throat. Her voice was croaky and there was a strange lump in her throat that she had never noticed before. She'd been told boys had them... Adam's apples they were called.

Sweat dripped down her body. She rubbed at her armpits. They needed shaving again, which was weird because she'd only waxed them a few days ago.

"What the fuck is this solution doing to me?" she groaned. "No increase in intelligence is worth this. I have to find Ry!"

She staggered to the hallway, then out into the living room. Her vision was swimming, she was nearly blind now. Everything ached and her breasts felt even smaller. Her head hurt... she just needed to...

With a groan Riley sank onto a sofa and passed out.

***

Ry groaned as his face burned and his back ached. His hands went to his chest, there were now two big rounded mounds there just like the ones he had always imagined owning when he wore his sisters bra. Sweat was pouring off him and his vision was all blurry. He reached up and tore off his glasses. Strange, but now he could see again.

His voice seemed croaky, his neck sore. His face felt different, the features more delicate. Long hair tickled his neck. "I fucked up somehow," he groaned. "The Crispr is making me INTO Riley. I have to find her and warn her."

Staggering out of the room, dizzy and sick - he staggered into the living room. A figure was passed out on one of the couches. He tried to approach, but instead his legs began to give way. With a groan, Ry staggered to the other couch and collapsed.

Darkness took him and then the strangest dreams he'd ever had.

Meanwhile Riley's DNA continued to consume his own and change his body... the physical changes were now nearly complete...

***

DAY TWO:

Ry awoke and for a second didn't know where he was.

The room smelled different. It smelt of sexy perfume. The sheets around him were pink and girly. Riley's clothes hung on racks around the room, plushies and cushions covered every surface.

He was naked in the bed.

A post it note lay on the table by the bed.

"Morning baby, me and your step-daddy found you and your brother passed out in the lounge. Were you partying last night? We put you both to bed in the right rooms and I undressed you. Were those your brothers clothes you were wearing? What were you doing? Lol Mom. XXX"

Pulling back the sheets, Ry saw his body had completely changed. He was no longer feverish, and the big wobbling tits on his chest were definitely real. His skin was healthy and lightly tanned, he had no body hair except for a tiny strip just above his... pussy?

Reaching down, Ry gasped at the sensation of his new vagina. He snatched his hand back in shock, although the urge to put it back there swiftly returned. Sliding out of the bed, he landed onto small perfect feet, then padding quietly across the room, he reached the mirror and stared in wonder.

Riley looked back at him. Well almost. He didn't have Riley's tattoos or her ear, nose or navel piercings. He didn't have any makeup on and his hair was a mess. His fingers and toes were unmanicured... but other than that... he looked just like her.

"Holy shit," he said in her voice.

The resemblance was so perfect, that last night her own Mother hadn't recognised that he was not really her girl. Riley's DNA had changed him into her. That probably meant in the other bedroom, Riley was now waking up as a physical copy of him.

And yet it wasn't just the physical changes. Something profound had happened to his mind, to his very soul.

The Crispr virus had infiltrated every cell of Ry's body, including his brain. He had been rewired and altered. He felt a new natural confidence, sexual assurance and a strong desire to monopolise on this situation. His personality was now more like Riley's than ever before. Even in his darkest dreams he could never have imagined being such a fucking bitch.

"Yesssss, I've always wanted to be Riley," he said in a slightly evil voice. "Mmmmh, I think I knew what that Crispr virus was going to do to us... but I did it anyway. I did it because I wanted to steal her life. I want to be Riley Grey... not Riley Green."

"And now that I used the Crispr," he purred allowing this delicious new persona to take control, "I am. Even Mommy thinks that I am. I am fucking Riley Grey and I want it ALL."

A wicked grin appeared on his face and he allowed his body language to relax. How did hot girls stand... ahhh yes, like this.

"These big tits are mine, mmmmh and this perfect ass. I've been remade in your image," he laughed. "A couple of trips to the hairdressers and the tattoo artists to get inked up and pierced... and no one would ever know the difference between us. This is my chance to assume your life and become the new you. I'm not going to waste it."

Riley smiled as she began looking for some clothes to wear. She just had to make 'Ry' understand that it was best to go along with what she wanted. The switch in pronouns was so easy to make... it suited her like a glove.

She was a woman now, she had all the equipment and soon no one would ever know she had ever been her dorky step-brother...

She just had to manipulate him the correct way.

***

Riley awoke feeling like death. Her vision was still blurry and she felt weak and wiped out.

"Here, put these on," said a familiar voice and her vision swam back into focus as a pair of glasses slid onto her face. "Don't panic. It's me, your step-brother. Honestly, I didn't plan for this to happen. The Crispr has gone wrong... I tried it too using one of your hairs. I'm afraid we've become copies of each other."

Riley gasped as she saw herself sitting on the end of the bed. Her hair was a fucking mess and she needed some makeup, but other than that it was definitely her.

Pulling back the sheets, she groaned in a very masculine sounding voice. Her body was now entirely masculine, a small cock and a pair of balls between her legs. Her boobs were gone and her flabby white body was that of a nerdy dork.

"Oh no, we have to fix this."

"I know," said her doppleganger, "but there's a big problem. We're changing mentally as well as physically. I'm not smart enough to make the Crispr anymore so I need you help to make a new batch, then we can try to reverse these changes. "

"But I don't know how to do it either," she complained.

"I'm sure you'll find a way," purred her twin. "I'll give you the notes I made and hopefully you can decode them. In the meantime we need to act like each other so no one gets suspicious. We'll have to dress like we normally would, you'll have to hide those tattoos and those piercings. I don't know how long we might be stuck like this. I guess it could be weeks!"

***

DAY THIRTY

It had been a month.

Riley and Riley were becoming more and more like each other by the day.

Ry, as he was now known, had still not figured out how to make the Crispr. Probably because before she had given him the notes - the new Riley had made sure to delete certain important elements from the research.

Genuinely she wasn't smart enough anymore to remember or understand what she had removed - just that it had been enough to stop him. Hopefully that would be enough.

Riley didn't want a way back. She wanted to go deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole of femininity. In the last month she had discovered that being a hot, popular, girl was pretty much as amazing as she had dreamed it would be.

First of all there was the makeup and the clothes. They all made her look and feel incredible. If that wasn't enough, there was the enjoyment of sex.

Remembering that buzzing she'd heard all that time ago, Riley had uncovered the sex-toy collection. The first time she'd pushed a magic wand against her clit and felt it throb and vibrate, she'd known she was now a female sex addict.

It hadn't taken long to move from toys to the real thing... boys. There were plenty of guys wanting to fuck a hot slut like her, and after a couple of introductory sessions with some of Riley's ex-lovers - the new Riley had really picked up the pace.

There was nothing quite like bouncing on some hard cock and cumming all over it as a girl. It was such a good feeling.

If that wasn't enough, there was the social life. Riley loved being the centre of attention now... going to parties, having fun, everyone wanting to be her friend. She found the company of other hot girls intoxicating. To be part of the squad was like a dream come true.

Riley understood now she'd always harboured these desires. She'd always wanted to be like her step-sister and the Crispr had provided a way.

Of course, that meant that the new Ry probably now harboured her old desires... to cross dress and be a girl. They had probably only been heightened by the loss of his actual femininity.

Riley wondered if she could use that against him...

She wondered just how far it was possible to gaslight her new step-brother...

***

DAY 60

"Babe. What the fuck are you actually talking about? What Crispr research, I didn't delete anything from your hard-drive."

Ry stared at his sister in astonishment. Over the last few months he'd come to think of himself as male - it was somehow easier that way. His memories of being Riley were a confusing mess, sometimes it didn't even feel real. That was why it was now so confusing when Riley actually suggested it wasn't.

Over the last few days she'd been acting increasingly difficult. She kept giving him blank looks when he mentioned getting their bodies back and she had been dropping hints in from of him that he might be losing his mind.

"Listen Ry, I know you have this weird fetish for dressing up in my clothes... I found one of my bras in your room."

"Wh? WHAT? Well, those ARE my clothes," he growled angrily. "Before we swapped, those were ALL my clothes."

"Swapped, what the hell are you taking about? You keep going on about this weird dream fantasy of yours. Are you really suggesting that two months ago we both drank a formula that altered our DNA and turned us into each other. Don't you think that sounds kinda crazy?"

"It's not crazy... and when I find the research, I'll prove it to you!"

Riley watched him go with an evil smile on her perfect lips.

***

DAY 260

Riley sighed as her annoying step-bro peeked through her door. He was such a fucking pervert and always hanging around. He was easy to convince though. Sometimes she had trouble remembering her own lies now - manipulating him was getting easier by the day.

"Hey loser, get out of here. I told you I'm about to stream and I don't want you watching me."

"But Riley, I think I found something. A blog about this girl called Laura Sims, the same thing happened to her... I think."

"What thing?"

"You know, the Crispr solution... the DNA exchange. The personality and memory changes."

"Listen Ry, I already told you I don't know what the fuck you are talking about. Worse than that, I think it's time you admitted the truth. Do you really think a pathetic little loser like you could ever have been a beautiful gorgeous woman like me? Does it seem possible? Of course not. You're a boy and you've always been a boy."

"I have? What about these weird scars I have. They could be from tattoo removal right? Maybe I once had the same tattoos as you?"

"You know you got those in a fire right? Are you really suggesting that once you were me. That you had these tattoos and these piercings? That you and me somehow swapped lives and then I gaslit you into believing you had always been a boy?"

"I know it sounds crazy but..."

"It does sound crazy. Would it even matter? Would anyone believe you? I think you'll be happier if you just accept things are this way now, whatever you believe."

Sliding her hand onto his crotch, Riley grinned as she saw her step-brothers expression go soft.

"Mmmmh, why don't we stroke this little cock of yours to make it feel all better. Hmmmm?"

Ry groaned as his step-sister expertly jerked him off till he groaned and came. He watched her hot manicured hands slowly pump him up and down, draining his cock and all resistance out of him.

"There now. Feel better?"

"Yessss," he groaned.

"Good boy. Now get out of here. Go and goon in your room or something."

***

Listening to her step-brother grunting next door as he jerked off wearing her bra, Riley Grey played with her pussy and looked at herself in the mirror. Damn she was perfect. She was beautiful and sexy and hot. She loved being a girl.

She didn't even miss her old boy smarts. Who needed brains when you looked this good? Then again, she'd been doing a little research lately. She and Laura Richie had made contact and she had been intrigued by what she had found out.

She'd found out from the other girl that there was a second serum... one designed to improve the effects of the first. One that would make her a Goddess.

Maybe it was time to begin another new experiment...

THE END?

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @qwertynerd97; the one where Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! Cut for length.

“Sure,” Lynn says, and Billy gets up and thinks to himself–okay, if they’ve got a few minutes before they need to leave . . . 

“There’s one thing,” he says, then ducks into the hall and into the linen closet where he hid Tawky’s stuffed animal form, ‘cause he wasn’t really sure if Lynn would feel outnumbered meeting them both at once, and also wasn’t sure if Kid Flash’s parents would have opinions about wild animals in the apartment and all. Not that Tawky’s wild, obviously–Tawky is a respectable gentleman! But some people don’t understand that, so it just seemed smarter to avoid the issue for now. He didn’t want to make the first time Lynn met Tawky weird or awkward. 

Tawky’s the best. Billy definitely doesn’t want Lynn to get a bad first impression of him because somebody else doesn’t get that. 

“. . . what thing?” Lynn asks after a moment. Billy brushes Tawky’s fur into careful order, because he knows Tawky hates to look messy, then straightens his little bow tie and nice tweed cardigan for him even though they don’t really need it. Tawky wanted to look nice today, for meeting Lynn and all. Billy understood, so he got the magic to make him something to wear too, and he thinks Tawky looks really gentlemanly and refined! 

“I can introduce you, if you’re ready to come out?” he offers, taking Tawky back down the hall and out into the living room with him. It’s not a great time for Tawky to turn into his real form, since they’re indoors and Batman might get the wrong idea about a full-sized tiger suddenly showing up, and also none of the furniture is really gonna fit him at full-size either. Billy makes a mental note to buy more beanbag chairs when they can. He’ll have to ask Batman where he got the ones that’re already here, so they’ll match and all. Or at least be complementary, anyway? He really wants the apartment to look nice for Lynn. 

He hopes Lynn and Tawky get along. Tawky’s his best friend, and Lynn’s his kid, so it’d really suck if they didn’t. And Tawky’s great, and he’s already sure Lynn is too, so he’d hate for them to miss out on making . . . friends, he guesses? 

Well, maybe that’s a little weird. Not that Lynn doesn’t already have a lot of older friends, and obviously Billy does too, but if they’re all gonna be living together, welllll . . . 

Lynn comes out into the hall and Billy brightens reflexively and grins over at him. Lynn’s still wearing the same Superman T-shirt and stuff, but his backpack’s gone. Billy feels pretty good about that. He never felt safe enough in new foster homes to leave his backpack anywhere, no matter who else was in it. Lynn doesn’t have the same experience, obviously, but it’s still reassuring that he’s at least comfortable enough to leave his bag unattended. 

Also, hopefully means he’s not planning to sneak off and run away when they go out. 

“Introduce me to who?” Lynn asks, folding his arms across his chest and looking uncomfortable. 

“This is your Uncle Tawky!” Billy introduces cheerfully, holding Tawky out to him. Lynn stares at him. Then he stares at Billy. 

“. . . a stuffed tiger?” he says slowly. 

“He’s a gentleman,” Billy reassures him, still holding Tawky out to let them both get a good look at each other. He and Tawky already talked about both being careful not to scare Lynn, since they didn’t think he’d be used to tigers or know if Cadmus would’ve told him anything about them. And Lynn’s really little, so he might get freaked out easier than an actual sixteen year-old would, Billy figures. 

. . . well, he guesses actual sixteen year-olds get freaked out by tigers too, depending on the situation? But Lynn’s invulnerable, sooooo . . . kind of hard to guess either way? 

Better safe than sorry, Tawky had said, and Billy had decided that made sense. It’s not like Tawky minds being a stuffed animal, anyway, and a stuffed tiger definitely fits into the apartment better than a thousand-pound one would. And maybe Lynn will like having a stuffed animal around anyway, since he’s technically a baby and all. He’s probably never had one, right? And Tawky really does give the best hugs. 

“. . . Uncle Tawky,” Lynn says, glancing warily at Tawky again. 

“Oh, he’s not your literal uncle,” Billy clarifies. He probably should’ve been clearer about that, considering. “Like I said, I don’t actually have any family or anything except you and my uncle, and he’s awful. But Tawky’s not like that at all! He’s my best friend.” 

“. . . you know how old I am, right?” Lynn asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah,” Billy says, giving him a puzzled look at the question. Lynn’s four days old. Or almost four days old, anyway. Billy figures the in-pod time was more like an in-utero situation, considering. He’s not sure why Lynn’s asking him that right now, though? 

“. . . . . . right,” Lynn says, then reaches out and very gingerly takes Tawky from him. He holds him kind of awkwardly, so Billy figures he was right about Lynn never having a stuffed animal before. It’s great that they’re already getting along, though! He didn’t think Lynn would want to hold Tawky right away. He seems kind of . . . reserved? Shy? 

Maybe both, really. 

“He can stay in your room, if you want,” Billy offers. “He’ll protect you!”

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, looking mystified as he looks down at Tawky again. Billy figures it’s just the whole thing with not having had a stuffed animal before and beams encouragingly at him. 

“Great!” he says happily, clapping his hands together once. He knows Lynn’s invulnerable, obviously, but he’ll just feel a lot better knowing Tawky’s around to help keep an eye on Lynn whenever he’s busy with Justice League missions and Champion of Magic duties. Plus Tawky’s really good at eating nightmares and stuff like that? And nightmares suck for little kids, so Billy thinks that’ll probably help too. 

He's so glad they’re already getting along.

[pizzabox-box]

Fake Peppino and his clones part I

I found myself thinking about how just messed up Peppi-no's clones are. But in order to explain what's going on with Peppi-no's clones we have to start with the good ol' Fakey from "Hello There, Neighbour" he's the closest thing to cannon Fake Peppino I have. So I will use him as a sort of a golden standard.

Compared to Fake himself his clones are arguably less inteligent, have poorer emotional/impulse control and are less stable physically. They share most of Fake's traits and memories, with slight differences here and there. They are essentially him. Broken into simplier, more honest pieces.

The clones reflect emotional state at the moment of seperation. (If Fake is irritated at the moment of mitosis the clone is going to be irritated for it's entire existance, if Fake feels inspired, the clone is going to smarter than it should be! ) The're are the culmination of everything Fake Peppino thinks he is. And they act accordingly.

All clones follow few rules that are embedded into their mentality at the moment of seperation, if I were to put them into words the two most important would be :

"I'm Peppino, you're Peppino we all are Peppino. Peppino's have to stick together!" - All peppinos work together on a single goal! Making pizza and feeding it to customers!

"From dough we rise and to dough we will fall again." - they don't really care about being assimilated back.

If any clone violates these "rules" ,either by attempting to hurt Peppino or refusing to be "recycled" ,they are considered "rogue". Rogue clones, like cancer, need to be eliminated as soon as possible.

The clones never lie. They're unable to, due to their simplier nature. Whatever is going on in Fake's subconsious, or he's trying to repress , is going to be more prominent in their behaviour that in Fake himself. They won't hide how they feel about you and how they feel about themselves.

Based on their past experiences they instinctively avoid or destroy anything that is a danger to Peppino (real or fake doesn't matter). In case of Peppi-no this creates a paradox where Peppino himself is a danger to Peppino. (once again real of fake doesn't matter!)

There's a lot more to them but for our purposes this is all you need to know for now.

To be continued in part II. Where I will focus on Peppi-no from Dead Man walking.

Second part is here!

[billythesimp]

His Starlight

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎...

I was requested for write more Billy headcanons with a fem!s/o so here's some short snippets. So thank you for the request! I'll be opening requests after I finish another piece so letting you all know ahead.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙

tagging: None

tw: none

⋈ Billy makes some strange decisions at time, either cuz he’s trying to be cheap in order to save more, or he’s just not thinking straight and makes an impromptu purchase. As his s/o, you’re able to reel him in and help him make smarter decisions that’ll leave him so grateful that you care as much to aid him. Of course, this doesn’t count when he decides to splurge on you, because his girlfriend deserves only the best.

⋈ The girls in the Cunning Hares have at least met you a couple times before, after all they do care for Billy so only want to know who his new girlfriend is. That being said, Nicole is probably the one who can see the benefits of keeping you around, only to drop them once she sees just how much you adore their android friend that they’ve started noticing changes in him that are for the better. He still is goofy and oftentimes causing a ruckus with the others, but he’s become more thoughtful and acknowledges when things are going wrong or when they need to make a decisive decision in their work or expenses. Nicole doesn’t mind having you come around often, as long as you don’t become another mouth to feed. 

⋈ Best part of having such a cute girlfriend is being able to binge watch movies together and go out on dates. His favorites being the ones where they explore Lumina Square and stop to take photos. Of course, he loves doing the iconic poses from his favorite shows and movies, impersonating the actors to the point that it embarrasses you but he does it in a loving matter. But he also loves taking photos of you, drinking coffee at the Tin man’s shop, fawning over the shop bangboos, or even experimenting with the makeup in the salon there. He has a whole file saved of his favorite moments from your dates. 

⋈ Of course, dating Billy has its cons. For one he is usually cold to the touch because he’s made of metal and need to have his joints lubricated. But no worries, he does his best to maintain himself and makes subtle changes that you wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. Like buying a heating module to help increase his body heat, though the dealer he bought it from was kinda sketchy and now he overheats too quickly just from seeing your cute face. And when it comes to lubrates, he gets only the finest of lubes to help him move to the best of his ability. A little too well as you’ll have him turning head at record speed when you call him. Maybe even trip over his own feet trying to catch up to you. 

⋈ Billy can be a fool but he’s your fool. He loves and cherishes every day he gets to spend with you; And whenever he’s in a pinch, down in the hollows completing the hardest of commissions all for the sake of getting by with the Cunning Hares, he can only think of how you’ll be waiting for him on the outside. Ready to give him the biggest hug and rewatch Oh~ Sweetie where now he no longer finds joy in admiring the main actress as you shine brighter than any other starlight knight.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙣𝙤 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙣❞

Pairing:

Judge!Jonathan Crane x Arkham Fugitive!Reader

Summary:

It had been several years since Gotham as society obliterated into pieces. Several years since Jonathan had seen his favorite Arkham patient escape from the asylum with a promise on her lips.  

Warning(s): SMUT. P in V. Mentions of violence. Implied attempted assault (not from Crane). Brief description of threat. Minors, dni! Note: I realized that I haven’t been giving Jonathan especially Judge!Crane some love lately! That being said, it’s sorta set in the final installment of The Dark Knight Trilogy with allusions of Batman Begins scenes.

Word Count: 1.7k

The city of Gotham’s corruption was never ending; endless explosions, crimes and more deaths continued.

It had been two years since he had last seen Y/N. Echoes of her boots surrounded him as she sprinted away from him and the rubbles that was the Arkham Asylum; never looking back after whispering to him while he was bounded in an unoccupied cell that she was going to kill him was still fresh in his mind ever since.

She was indicted for bashing a stranger’s head with a brick after he tried to take her in the alley. When he saw her in the courtroom, he was simply enthralled by how she was stoic and yet her eyes were filled with fire. He then knew he had to admit her into the asylum so he could be closer to her, and his words held power in swaying the judge to prompt the sentencing.

That was why she was his favorite subject; he could tell she despised him by the way she refused to look at him. The tone of her voice was hard and colder than ice, and he reveled in the feeling. Of course, she would indulge him in sessions, out of fear he would use fear toxin on her. It was their deal, if she talked then he wouldn’t have to take his scarecrow burlap mask filled with his experiment out of his metal storage briefcase.

His feelings for her, whatever he could classify as much as he could since he despised emotions that connected to romantic sense, had developed during his tenure as her psychiatrist that he was angry when she escaped after Batman showed up, destroying the restoration of future order of Gotham with his creation. 

"Let go of me you son of a bitch!" 

His eyes widened at the familiar sound of a woman seething, and he had to settle for a stoic expression before turning around just in time to see two of his henchmen with their hands wrapped around the woman's body dragging her down the hallway.

She cursed out loud when they dropped her aggressively, still folding onto her upper body, and her hair swayed wildly as she jerked her legs and bounded wrists.

He could see that his henchmen had to use ropes to put her in binds, which indicated she tried to attack them, and was unsuccessful with her mission.

Of course, she still had the fire in her. He thought wryly.

"Gentlemen, what is the meaning of this?" He inquired, taking a step forward which made Y/N stop thrashing in their grips.

Eyeing her stilled form, he smirked at her when her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

"Leave her," he ordered, glaring at two young men until they released her arms allowing her to kneel on the floor.

Waiting until he heard the sound of a click to indicate his henchmen left the room, and he turned his head to look back at her when the sounds of footsteps faded away.

He took a step toward her, crouching before her as she eyed him warily. He then reached out with his fingers to her face, relishing in the feeling of her skin; he trailed his fingers over her cheeks and up her jaw where he pinched her earlobe between index and thumb. He gave it a little tug, experimental, though sharp enough to incite a sting. "I didn't expect to see you," he paused, a smirk grew on his lips. "Thought you were smarter than to get caught."

Before she could fight against him vehemently, he clasped her arms, dragging her up along with him as he straightened his form, and he marched across the room until he reached for the door that led to the sitting room.

He pushed her aside before slamming the door and pushed the lock button to ensure no one would come in especially the rogues. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He heard her speaking up from behind him before he turned towards her.

He didn't answer her, although he did stare at her for a few moments before reaching for her arm and pushed her along until he reached another door that led to the room where his office resided.

Once they crossed the threshold, he pushed her against the wall after he activated the lock for his office.

Her eyes widened when he brought his face close to her, he reached between them to unfasten the rope around her wrists before he brought one hand around her waist to push her body against his after dropping the rope to the side.

She was embarrassed to hear a slight mewling sound escape her own lips as the arm that had been around her waist slid up; he let her slide a few inches down the wall before his hand entangled itself in her hair. 

Tugging her hair firmly, Jonathan pulled her head back so that her mouth fell open and her throat was exposed. He leant forward and ran his nose up the side of her neck and her chin, nuzzling her ear.

"You're going to lay on the desk, and I'm going to do what I should've done before you escaped from me." He muttered; a command etched in his tone.

She nodded; her eyes wide. His authoritarian tone was such a turn on, she didn't think she would have been turned on by the authority in his voice since she had never liked his tone during their sessions before she had escaped, but that was not the case.

He lifted her arms once again, carrying her across the room until he placed her onto his desk unceremoniously.

He leaned back to unbutton her pants before pushing them down from her legs. Once it hit the floor, she lifted her legs to spread before him, only panting in her underwear and t-shirt in the room.

He then reached under her shirt, ghosting his fingers across her skin as he slid his hands towards her breasts. 

She gasped into his mouth as he palmed her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples that were becoming erect before drawing his hands back to remove his ragged blazer that seemed to confine him.

He was thankful that he had requested a large ornate desk as he propped himself on top of the furniture, leaning over her. Sweat began to dampen his skin as well as hers. Chest touched chest as he planted a hot kiss to her jaw, then her chin as he trailed his lips across her face. She squirmed as he dipped two fingers into her cunt and withdrew only to bring them to her lips where he traced her mouth leaving a slick trail behind.

He pushed her underwear aside, away from her slit, before reaching with his other hand to unbutton his pants, unzipping it, and his cock sprung free. Before she could reach for it with her hand, she squeezed her eyes shut when his cock filled her up with a single hard thrust, leaning with his forehead against hers as he savored the feeling of her walls milking his cock. 

He withdrew his hips slightly before slamming back into her, relishing in the feeling over again.

The way she breathed against his face, the tiny whimpers leaving her mouth, the way she adjusted her hips to allow him better access, the way she reacted to every thrust, every push and pull, it hurt him inside in a most magnificent manner.

"Fuck," he rasped as he pulled out again. He hovered for a moment, with just the head inside her, and she felt empty. He gripped her hips and slammed inside of her, causing her to cry out and arched her back off the desk.

Her hands pulled him closer, gripping his back with her nails. Her legs still wrapped around him; she pushed her heels into his ass. He fell on top of her, holding himself up by his forearms and leaning his head down into the crook of her neck. She could feel him planting sloppy kisses on her neck and shoulder. He curled his lips and reached for the curve of her neck to dig his teeth into her skin, and she gasped as the sensation went right to her clit, pushing her higher which made her throw her head back.

He pounded into her brutally in abandon, riding her orgasm as she continued to recite his name like she was spellbound. 

He spontaneously wrapped an arm around her waist and reared back upright on his knees, holding her against him and thrusting up harshly. He gave several more thrusts before groaning hoarsely, chasing his own release. Her head fell forward on his shoulder, and she moaned softly at the feel of him filling her.

He slowly descended them back to the desk, caressing her abdomen softly, and panting in her ear, still buried deep inside her. He kissed her temple, her cheek, then urged her to meet him in a lazy kiss, which she complied in daze. Her lips were swollen and torn from his previous kisses and her own teeth as she had bit them down harshly as he fucked her.

Withdrawing from her, wincing slightly at the sensitivity as his cock slipped out of her cunt. His tongue swiped the bottom of his lip as he spotted his cum trickling out of her hole.

Fuck.

He inhaled deeply as he eased himself off the desk before placing himself on the leather chair before tucking his softened cock back in his dress pants.

Bringing his gaze to the ceiling of his office, he traced on the skin of her calf absentmindedly, only to snap his eyes to her face when he heard a sharp noise.

She held a knife, fingers wrapped around the finely detailed handle as she angled it towards his jaw where it was sparsely with light hair sprinkled across his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, unamused as he gripped the back of her neck.

Her eyes flickered to his nonchalantly before moving them to the metal before her.

Tracing the grooves of the weapon, she lightly wetted her lips before closing the inches between them, only to pause when her lips barely brushed his.

"Fulfilling my promise, Doctor Crane."

[jymwahuwu]

I FUCKING LOVR MICE ❤️❤️❤️‼️‼️(im appointing myself as no1 mouse girl fan) i saw that mouse hybrid reader thingy w jing yuan n knew its my time to shine 🤤

so erm maybe like dr ratio would make u a facking labrat or something idk since mice r highly intelligent

and maybe ud steal like a lil nibble of sugilite food and bro takes that personally‼️‼️ (even tho he has like 50 plates)

Cute!! What you can see is that Ratio likes you, a mouse. You were often caught by him doing various experiments on endurance and orgasmic response. You whimpered and squeaked. And these aren't complete depravities either because his goal is to train you to be smarter. You are really smart enough to follow his instructions. Ratio will read you a storybook and give you exam papers. You pouted and wagged your tail. He will also require you to have basic physical exercise, meaning you need to run on a toy running wheel…

Your eyes light up as you look at the delicious food in front of you.

He might see if you can get on the path actually. You're cute and smart, you can definitely do it.

-

Sugilite. His property was so big that he hired an entire team of chefs to cook his dinners. Listen to their report that a little mouse has been around recently. What kind of ratatouille joke is this? He scolded them with a frown…until he found you sneaking around the table and taking away a plate of delicious food.

"What are you doing, little mouse?"

"!!!" You jumped up and immediately tried to run away, but your tail was caught. At least you're really cute. He quickly ordered a large cage to put you in.

[brooklynisher]

Alright, I'll post it here. Please be nice, it's my first published writing on here :}

CW for emotional distress, yelling, and animal abuse

Green Light

The Spine has been called on by Peter Walter to participate in a few tests, but The Spine can’t help but feel that there’s something very wrong about these tests.

The Spine stood still counting the number of wires in the room. He counted the wires, then the flasks, then the ratio of flasks, empty to full to partially full. He would read the paper. Making sure to read each and every word carefully and slowly. Refusing to continue until he understood every last bit of what he just read. This is how he spends his free time. It’s not like he has much else to do. Aside from the fact that he and all of the other robots haven’t been around for more than a few months, there’s also a lot he’s simply not allowed to do. But as much as he hates being unable to do anything he wants, he has developed some essential skills considerably faster than the others.

When he learned how to read, that’s all he really did, though he limited himself to the newspapers. He was pretty caught up in current events as a result. Counting, fractioning, identifying things around the room, while being relatively simple tasks to most adults, was a huge learning experience for the titanium robot. Anything he can do to be just a bit smarter was propitious. 

Peter Walter walks in with a strange expression on his face. The Spine can’t tell if he’s angry, passionate, if his feelings are strong or dull, he simply can’t tell. He feels it’s a failure in his ability to identify facial expressions.

“The Spine,” Peter starts.

“Yes sir?” The Spine straightens his posture.

“I need you to come with me.”

He makes a small gesture urging The Spine to follow him. The Spine spine responds with a simple, “Yes sir.” before taking his inventor’s lead. He tries to make sure any anxiety doesn’t show. He’s a robot after all. He’s not supposed to be feeling things like anxiety. Yet he can’t help but feel slightly anxious every time Peter calls on him to do something he doesn’t know anything about. They arrived in a small concrete room. It’s mostly empty with the exception of an oddly colorful board hanging high up on the wall. The board contains the names of each Walter automaton followed by 5 red lightbulbs. A few of the bulbs for each robot are green, but none are out of order. Peter orders The Spine to stay put before leaving the room. The Spine tries to make observations while he waits.

“Rabbit… 3 green lights… 2 red… Zer0… 5 green lights… 0 red… Hatchworth-”

Peter Walter has returned. The Spine straightens his posture once again. Peter seems to be pulling a large wagon of some kind. The contents inside the wagon are covered with a beige tarp. Peter approaches The Spine.

“The Spine,” Peter starts.

“Yes sir?”

“Take my wrist.”

He pulls up his sleeve. The Spine notices that Peter’s wrist seems to be oddly beat up. He’s not sure what this could mean, but he must obey orders. He grips his wrist as gently as possible trying not to harm him.

“Squeeze it,” Peter commands.

Squeeze it? But The Spine is made out of metal. Peter is made out of flesh. The Spine doesn’t have sensory receptors. Peter does. For all he knows, he already has a tight grip around Peter’s wrist. What if he hurts him? What would he do? But The Spine has learned that obedience is better than defiance. Even if it’s at the risk of causing more issues. He squeezes his wrist.

“AUGH!”

Peter pulls his hand away and turns his back towards The Spine. The Spine is instantly filled with regret, grabbing his own hand as if to keep it under control. He canes his neck just enough to see the damage he has caused. Peter’s hand is limp. Oh god.

“Pe- Mister Walter! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- I- I was just-” He tries to apologize, but the words struggle to escape him. He’s not even allowed to apologize. If he apologizes, then that means he made a mistake. And mistakes are a no-go here.

“Stop your stammering!” Peter hisses at him.

The Spine only hangs his head low. Ready to endure whatever it is that he deserves. Peter takes a big shaky breath in.

“You’re… you’re fine… This is good. You’re very strong. Maybe even the strongest automaton I’ve built yet… I could do without the apologizing and the stuttering.”

What? Good? He just broke his inventor’s wrist! Of all the mistakes The Spine made in his short lifespan, how was THIS the one that Peter excuses? Hell, he seems more angry about him apologizing and stuttering than he is about him breaking his wrist. What kind of twisted logic is that? Does he want The Spine to hurt him? But those are questions for later. The least The Spine can do right now is be considerate. He waits for a couple of moments to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Sir, will your wrist be alright?”

“The depths of science in which I have delved are unlike any other. If I can build such a great number of automatons in such a short period using a substance I alone have discovered, then surely I can heal a broken wrist.”

He takes a controller out of his pocket with his good hand and pushes a button. One of the lights next to The Spine’s name turns green. He then turns to the wagon and pulls off one of the tarps, unveiling a dummy. He drags it out of the wagon and places it down on the ground using one arm. The Spine feels bad leaving him to struggle on his own like this, but he didn’t ask for help, so it’s best he just leaves it to him.

“Alright The Spine. Hit it.”

“... Anywhere?”

“As hard as you can.”

The Spine nods and faces the dummy. He can’t necessarily hit “hard” as he doesn’t have muscle but he can hit fast. So he curls his hand up into a fist and punches the dummy in the head as the humans do in news stories at full speed. The body is pushed back, head flying off. The head slams into the wall creating a small shockwave of dust. The Spine flinches. Peter side-eyes him but doesn’t say anything. He hits another button, and another bulb by his name goes green. He moves back to the wagon unveiling another dummy. He drags it to the center and looks straight towards The Spine.

“Activate voice protocol. The Spine,”

The Spine nods involuntarily.

“Activate blue matter ray projector arrays.”

And just like so, The Spine’s arm shifts into an intense-looking weapon. This throws The Spine off guard, but he keeps quiet.

“The Spine, I’d like you to shoot that dummy.”

The Spine looks at the dummy, then back at his hand.

“... How… How do I do that sir?” The Spine asks unaware he even had this feature installed.

“You’re going to have to figure it out on your own. Just as you will in order to disable it.”

The Spine looks back up at the dummy. He doesn’t understand what to do but still points his arm in its direction. He tries to move each part of his arm as if it were normal, and to his surprise, he is successful. The blue matter ray charged up. He aimed it toward the chest of the dummy feeling slightly uneasy. Something about this feels wrong, but he shoots. Before the beam hit, Peter managed to open up an umbrella, shielding himself from the bright red substance that now covers the room. The Spine’s body becomes a mess of red. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. What… What was that? While The Spine was still trying to process what had just happened, he didn’t notice Peter’s glare.

“Relax yourself.”

The Spine closes his mouth, straightens his posture, and tries to rest his shoulders and eyes. However, he finds that he is struggling to calm down. He doesn’t know why he feels so distressed, but something about that didn’t sit right with him. The third light next to his name turns green as Peter hits the button. He pulls out one more dummy, which makes The Spine feel nervous. 

“Activate voice protocol. The Spine, activate chainsaw.”

His other arm switches into a chainsaw, alarming him quite a bit. He tries to disable his other arm so that he has a free hand. As he does this, Peter simply stands against a wall and watches. He doesn’t say anything. The Spine looks back at him, hoping he tells him to do something different, but Peter only observes. It’s obvious what he wants him to do. The Spine turned back to the dummy.

“It’s probably just ink…” He thinks to himself still feeling uneasy. He preps his chainsaw and turns it on. The vibrations it produces are undeniably strong. It was almost as if he could feel it. He closes his eyes and slashes the chainsaw through the dummy. His eyes reopened to the sound of screaming. It’s even messier than before. He pulls his chainsaw back staring at the brutalized dummy now dyed red. Did it scream? Was it alive? He doesn’t move. His chainsaw slows to a full stop. What did he do? Another light turned green, he’s now down to his last light before all five of them turn green.

“Are you ready for your final test?” Peter asks.

Is that what they were? Not that it mattered what they were. The Spine was not ready. If anything he was afraid. He was afraid of what came next. He was afraid of Peter Walter. So of course, he nodded. Peter unveils the final hidden object in the wagon as The Spine deactivates his chainsaw. The final hidden object is none other than a crate. A crate… He opens the crate and pulls out a dog…

“No.” The Spine accidentally says out loud. He looks away, trying to hide his face.

“I’ll let you use any method you’d like.”

“No.” Though it was stupid before, it’s almost as though he can’t control himself. He knows what’s going to happen. He’s not going to follow through with this. Peter doesn’t say anything for a second. He then starts to speak.

“You know… there’s a reason why I’m not with the others right now.”

The Spine doesn’t respond.

“The others are sweet robots. And lighthearted ones at that. But they’ve always been a little bit… zany. Compared to you at least.”

The Spine grimaces.

“The only reason why I’m so ‘normal’ compared to the others is because you forced me to be! If I had it my way, I’d be just as wacky as the others, if not a bit more mature.” He wanted to say. But he knew arguing wouldn’t do him any good. Especially in a situation like this where that’s not the problem. So as much as he wanted to fight Peter on this, the best he could do for himself was bite his tongue.

“Such wild and eccentric personalities… They’d never want to hurt a soul… but that doesn’t mean they won’t.”

By now, four of the six main automatons have already achieved all five lights. That leaves one other who has yet to complete the test.

“And I’ll admit, it was partially my fault. My idea of the perfect robot would’ve never led up to this moment, yet it has. So for the sake of humanity, I’m going to need you to let go of some of what I had taught you. Obedience is key. Listen to me The Spine.”

The Spine slouches a little shaking his head.

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“But I can’t.”

“The Spine-”

“It’s a living creature! I can’t make myself do it…” The Spine then makes the mistake of looking at the puppy. It yawns a big yawn before lying down. His resistance grows stronger. How is he supposed to kill this thing?

“Kill the dog The Spine.”

“Why don’t you just make me kill the dog? Won’t that be easier? It’s not like you don’t have the power to.” His response comes out much more disrespectful than he meant it to, but it seems like there’s no stopping himself at this point. Peter’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to kill the dog whether you want to or not.”

“That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? You’re asking me to do things on my own accord but not unless you allow me to. What kind of sense does that make?” It was unlike The Spine to talk back so much. Even during moments where he was defiant, he’s never been this much of a brat about it.

“Spine-”

“You want me to kill Rabbit next? Make me kill your favorite robot just so you can yell at me for it afterward?” At this point, The Spine’s retorts became less relevant. Peter is getting fed up with his behavior. His patience now gone.

“DO YOU WANT THE BECILES TO WIN OR NOT?” Peter yells. This is enough to get The Spine to quiet down. He’s not sure if he knows what he means.

“WE ARE ON THE BRINK OF WAR. BECILE HAS GONE MAD AND IF HE WINS THIS COULD DETERMINE MORE THAN THE FATE OF SCIENCE. IT COULD DETERMINE THE FATE OF OUR STATE. IT CAN DETERMINE THE FATE OF THE WORLD. A SCIENTIST AS CRAZY AS HIM SHOULD NOT HAVE ACCESS TO SUCH INTENSE TECHNOLOGY AND SUCH INTENSE POWER. DO YOU WANT HIM TO GET AWAY WITH THAT?”

The Spine only looks down at the ground out of guilt. He’s not quite sure what Peter is talking about, but he knows he’s blaming him for… something. At least, that’s what it feels like. He pauses for a few seconds before finally saying something.

“I’m sorry Mister Walter… but… I can’t help it that I’m… I’m an individual… and I can’t… I can’t kill an innocent creature. I just can’t… I don’t want the Beciles to win, but I’m just not capable of this sort of thing. I’m sorry…”

Peter is about to respond when he hears a small yelp from the other room. The Jon’s 5th light has turned green. He looks back down at The Spine, but he doesn’t say anything. Even so, The Spine knows what he would say. When it comes to animals, The Jon was always the best with them. Something about his presence would just attract animals stronger than any bait. He loves animals, and the animals love him. It could not have been an easy assignment for him to kill a creature of any kind. Especially one as innocent and as sweet as a puppy. Yet he still had the guts to kill it. The Spine’s relationship with animals was minimal, yet he refused to kill one just because he didn’t want to. He knew this made him weak, but it didn’t change his stance. He simply hangs his head low out of shame.

Peter notices that he’s still reluctant to complete the task, so he turns to his last resort. He sighs as he lights a match. The Spine hears this and looks up at him. His eyes widened in terror. He’s heard horror stories about being burned alive. He knows what he’s going to do.

“Don’t. Please Mister Walter don’t hurt it-”

The Spine continues to beg Peter to leave the puppy alone, but ultimately he ignores him. Soon enough, the small animal begins screeching and yelping in pain. The sounds were enough to drive The Spine over the edge. He pulls out his blue matter ray and shoots the poor thing down as quickly as possible. The Spine can feel an intense amount of steam leaving his body, yet his body still feels unbearably hot. It’s as if the steam from his body wasn’t releasing fast enough. That was the last thing The Spine wanted to do, but he really didn’t have another choice. There was nothing he could’ve reliably used to put out the flames and even if he did find something, he wouldn’t know how to heal the small pup. It would only die slower. The only thing he could do was speed up the process.

Peter places a hand on his shoulder. The Spine stiffens. He’s using every last atom in his metal body to resist the urge to tear his inventor apart.

“Why did you kill it?” Peter asks.

“I- You set it on fire! It was suffering! It was in pain! I couldn’t just let it die such a terrible fate like that…”

“Mm..” Peter nods.

“The Spine, there’s something you need to understand.”

The Spine only looks at him.

“In war, everyone is always suffering.”

“...”

“Now, come with me. It’s clear to me that you need some serious repairs.”

The final red light turns green.

[nightmarevore]

“You wish to be my housemate, then?” William Afton, posh and proper as ever, sits at a table, across from another man. 

This other man is Henry Emily, sitting silently and staring at the man. He nods in response, and his fingers play with themselves nervously. 

“I do, we’re both going to be starting College soon, and we’re going to the same one. It would be a smarter idea to move in with someone so close and with the same schedule as myself.” Henry replies, holding his fingers still in his lap. 

“Hm… You’re absolutely right.” William’s accent isn’t American—In fact, it sounds something akin to British. Is there a hint of cockney in there? “I must inform you of something that is make-or-break for many people. There have been countless before you who I’ve told this to, and it made them immediately change their minds.”

Henry’s eyebrows furrow. What could this possibly be?

“What is it?” He asks.

“I’m a predator. I must eat people on occasion. I am constantly hungry, and at any given moment, without warning, I will swallow you whole.” The Brit’s voice is monotone, and his expression remains still and neutral. 

It’s easy to tell he’s being quite serious about this. 

“You’ll…. swallow me whole?” Henry repeats, tilting his head. Almost as if asking for clarification. 

William stands up from his chair, and it pushes out with his legs. He places a hand over his stomach. 

“I have the ability to swallow people. Shifters, full-sized people, you name it. I can even eat an object or two… Either way, by becoming my roommate, you must also accept the fact that you may end up in here.” The Predator pats his stomach, signifying what’s under his button-up shirt. 

Henry pauses, and his eyes shift down to where the other was gesturing towards. He… would get eaten whole? How does that work? Why does that sound so interesting? It’s a new experience, perhaps it could be fun?

“Maybe a demonstration is in order?” Henry blurts out, eyes widening. He shocks himself with the request.

William’s eyes widen, and he adjusts his glasses. He can’t say he’s ever had someone willingly offer themselves to be eaten. 

“You want me to eat you?” The Brit asks. 

Henry pauses, realizing what he just asked. His eyes shift from William’s face to his stomach. 

“… Yes.” He says. 

William’s lips curl into a smile, soon parting and revealing his sharpened teeth. He walks around the table, standing tall beside Henry, and possible new roommate. 

Almost as if he were hypnotized by the taller man, Henry stands up from his chair, staring into William’s bright green eyes. They’re easy to get lost in; his eyes are almost like beautiful jewels on his face. 

Without hesitation, William places his hands on the other man’s shoulders, giving into his desperate, endless hunger and shoving Henry’s head into his mouth and throat. He doesn’t hesitate to swallow, determined to temporarily sate his hunger. Henry Emily will go down, with or without a fight. 

Henry’s eyes quickly shut as he’s faced with the darkness and loud strength of the predator’s throat. William’s strength and ability is enough to throw him off, and it takes the man a moment to be sure this wasn’t some kind of weird dream or not. 

“Wi—“ Henry attempts to get a word in before another aggressive swallow sends him further down, and rather quickly at that. His entire torso must be inside of William by now. 

In response, William purrs, and despite the heavy and hearty swallows, he seems to be enjoying himself. Enjoying Henry’s flavor. His eyes flutter shut, and he picks up Henry with his hands as he quickly and heavily swallows the other man down. His hunger demands the man, especially now that he’s gotten a taste. An absolutely stunning taste, at that. Has anyone ever tasted this good? This delicious? As delectable as this man? All of the different flavors of people he’s eaten tend to melt away into something he’s unable to remember. This time, however….

With another swallow, Henry’s head is quickly shoved and pushed down into the predator’s stomach organ. His stomach grows quickly, and continues to grow, straining the buttons of his shirt. William doesn’t care, as indicated as more of his meal fills his stomach and breaks off buttons. 

William’s ravenous stomach groans and gurgles as soon as Henry enters, but the half-eaten man can’t tell if it’s because William is hungry, or if it’s because it has him inside of it. He can’t believe how tight this is—William’s throat and stomach constrict and hold him in place. It’s hard to think he can even eat him in the first place, but it’s clearly possible. And judging by how fast he’s gone down, the predator does this fairly often. Henry can’t say he’s ever felt the flesh of another human’s stomach before, and the inner walls are quite slick. Wet with saliva and acid. It’s strange, though. It’s not entirely uncomfortable. Hot, sure… But not unpleasant. 

William swallows twice, forcing his legs down inside of him. The Brit purrs at the sensation of his belly growing and being filled. Henry seemingly shifts around inside as more of him is quickly stuffed inside, and another, large, final swallow sends the rest of his lunch down his throat and past his collarbone. Both hands press into his belly, and a smile grows on the predator’s face. A deep exhale marks Henry settling fully inside his stomach, and he opens his eyes. His shirt has fully broken apart to the top of his belly, noting that he’d have to fix that later. 

For now, William pats his stomach, putting a hand down on the back of the chair where Henry was just sitting, soon turning and sitting down on the chair itself. It creaks from the weight, but settles as William continues to smile and his stomach rests on his lap.

“Well, Henry… I hope you’ll enjoy living together.”

[mistydeyes]

fake hypochondriac

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hypochondria

hy·​po·​chon·​dria noun

excessive concern about one's health especially when accompanied by imagined physical ailments

summary: If an apple a day, keeps the doctor away then what keeps a pharmacist away? Whatever it is, Ghost wants to eradicate it. This man's small crush will send him to extremes. A sequel to "a panacea"

pairing: Ghost x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds, fluff, and flirting

a/n: by popular vote, ghost's sequel won! don't worry though, price's will be coming real soon ;)

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The unit had been a buzz about your work as a pharmacist officer. From clearing Gaz’s congestion to the ridiculous bandage you gave to Ghost, they simply would not stop talking about you. Soap even tried to convince the doctor that he needed to visit you for a malady of reasons but your colleagues were smarter than that. You had to give it to him, the fake food coloring blood applied to his stitches was a nice touch. It became a running joke in the medical wing. Some of your closest work friends even gushed about how the men would talk about you as if you had discovered the secrets to eternal life.

All joking aside, in all your years here, people had called you pet names and made small attempts at flirting but you always had your main goal on your mind: provide the best care so they can stop bothering me. However, one man caught your eye. No one would ever know that the masked man who wore a star bandaid was the one who stole your heart.

Of course, you’d never want anyone to have to constantly come visit you on the pretense of needing medication but you valued the time spent with him. Somehow he ended up needing every single vaccination. From pneumococcal to typhoid, you wondered if you should tell him that these were all voluntary.

Little did you know, he made every effort to miss the optional clinics and went straight to you upon his return. Your soft touch and even softer laugh were like music to his ears. He didn’t know how many people were graced by your presence like this but he tried to make himself the most memorable one.

His younger self would have laughed at his antics. His mother used to say an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Even though you weren’t a doctor, he would cut down every apple tree and burn every pie if it meant seeing you daily.

One day, Soap gave him an idea. The team was ending another debriefing with Laswell and making conversation as they left the room. “I wish I could visit the lass but all she does is either give me my meds or gives her whatever you call recommendations” Soap groaned as he lugged the large number of building layouts and files in his arms.

“Pharmacological and non-pharm recommendations, Sergeant” Price corrected. “You better learn their terminology, they didn’t go to school and experience those muppets at the local chemist’s for nothing.”

That was it, Ghost would ask you for some silly non-pharm recommendation like Gaz had and keep coming up with new ailments to keep visiting you.

The plan was in place, following the lunch rush he walked to the medical wing and made his way to the pharmacy.

You stood in the back, answering yet another phone call from a doctor. “As I said before, you need to find out what their reaction is to penicillin and other beta-lactams. I don’t care if they say they have a true allergy, you know anaphylaxis is the only indicator. And no, I’m not ordering something off the formulary just because your patient says they were sneezing after a bout of amoxicillin. Just call me back after you spoke to them and if you really need it, then you know where to reach me.” With that, you slammed the phone down and let out a groan. You knew pharmacology was no doctor's favorite subject but this was antibiotics 101.

Your technician came around the corner, “Captain L/N, is everything alright?”

“You know we’ve been working together for what 2 years now? I’m just Y/N especially back here in this phone call hell.” you laughed as you sat down in your chair. “I’m alright, just another medic trying to get me to order something off the formulary for kicks”

“Well Y/N, there is someone here to see you. Just a soldier complaining of a sore throat. He says the doctors won’t prescribe anything because they haven’t observed anything wrong.” Your tech responded before disappearing amongst the shelves to fill some incoming scripts.

You made your way to the front where you were surprised to see Lt. Riley wearing a face mask (although still with the ghost print). Even though he had been coming for months now, live vaccines had to be spaced out by 28 days, you had not seen his face fully. His eyes were trained down and you noted his surprisingly light eyelashes. He still had the ever-present eye black and you wondered how he kept his lashes so pristine. If it was a mascara or a brand of makeup remover you needed to know!

“Simon,” you spoke in a cheerful voice. By now, you were on a first-name basis. It only took one tuberculosis skin test for him to encourage you to call him by his name. To be fair, when you held his arm gently to measure the area he would’ve told you anything.

“You aren’t due for any vaccinations you know. You’ve cleared me out! I’m sure the doctors would think I’m sticking you for my pleasure and your pain.” you joked. You were teasing but you knew there was no way he was here for yet another immunization.

“Not this time, love. I’ve got this tickle in my throat. It hurts when I swallow and I swear Soap saw my tonsils angry and inflamed,” he replied.

“And the doctor didn’t diagnose you with bronchitis or call for your tonsils to be removed?” you questioned. It wasn’t unusual for them to miss anything but you were realistically unable to prescribe anything to him.

“Well let me take a look. If you want to head over to the vaccination area then you can take your mask off. I’m sure you are familiar with where it is.” With that, he nodded and walked toward the designated area. He appreciated your kindness and that you valued his privacy.

You let your technician know where you’d be and they waved you off saying they could handle the onslaught of soldiers if it came to it.

As you entered the corned-off area, you saw Simon there, fiddling with his mask. You didn’t understand why he was so nervous, how could someone so well acquainted with violence be nervous of a flashlight and quick examination?

“Don’t worry, I’ll sure to be quick. I just need you to remove your mask and open up wide,” you explained and fished in your pocket for your pen light. To any recruit, they would’ve made a cheeky comment to your command but Simon obliged to your ask.

As he lowered your mask, you couldn’t help but admire the man in front of you. He was gorgeous. He looked like he was carved from a model like some Greek deity. His face was adorned by various silvery scars that looked painted on a portrait with metallic paint. His jawline was sharp and his lips were blush pink with an even sharper cupid’s bow. You made sure not to ogle for too long and began your assessment.

As you pointed your flashlight, you examined his throat and tonsils, trying to find if the doctor had missed anything. But when you saw no redness and his lymph nodes weren’t swollen, you didn’t know what to say.

“Hm, well good news and I guess bad news but I’m not seeing anything here. I’m not sure what to tell you but I wish I could help” you said in a defeated tone. You looked saddened by your lack of discovery and this made Simon want to scratch his whole plan.

“But,” you began, as he put on his mask, “my grandparents would always say ‘Y/N, all you need is to get some good rest and have a cup of tea with lemon’” you explained, trying your best to impersonate your best old person voice. Simon chuckled at your attempt. God, you really knew how to brighten someone’s day, and who could not love your sweet, grave voice?

“Sorry to take your time, love, but I’ll be sure to let you know,” he said and stood up before giving you a thankful look.

“The pleasure is all mine, Simon. I try to do what I can for one of my favorite patients,” you replied. You were laying on the flirting hard, something you would lie in bed cringing about later.

With that, he walked out of your little bubble and went about his day. You watched his muscular ass figure exit as you too returned to your day.

Although you thought you had cured him with some good advice, you were visited every other day for the next few weeks as he still had the same complaint. You had recommended everything following each checkup. From spoonfuls of honey and thyme lollies to encouraging hot showers and steam therapy, you were out of options. By what seemed like his 10th visit, you were prepared to march him down to radiology and make sure that this wasn’t some terrible looming illness.

“Still having that sore throat, huh?” you questioned as he walked through your doorway. He nodded in agreement and you picked up the landline. “I’m making a quick call, we’ll get this sorted out.”

“Hi, this is Captain. L/N. I have Lt. Riley here and he has been complaining of a sore throat for weeks. Is there any way the lab could run a throat culture as well as some blood work for me?”

And that’s how Simon ended up in the doctor’s office with a cotton swab down his throat and multiple needle pricks to his veins. He should’ve picked something more benign like reoccurring IBS but then again he might have ended up with a finger up his ass instead of the swab.

Two days later, you received a notification that the results were in. To your dismay, the results showed nothing. The swab was negative for every infection and his blood cell counts were all within normal range.

Frustrated, you told your tech you’d be back and walked your way to Cpt. Price’s office.

You knocked on the closed door hoping not to disturb the man. His baritone voice echoed into the hallway as he told you to enter.

“Hi Captain, sorry to bother you,” you said noting the mountain of paperwork on his desk as well as his extinguished pile of cigars. “But I was wondering if you had noticed anyone else in your unit with a sore throat. Lt. Riley has been coming to the pharmacy for a few weeks now and no one can figure it out.”

“Not that I know of. We haven’t run drills either so I know our quiet Ghost isn’t necessarily screaming at the recruits. He hasn’t come to me either with any complaints,” he explained and leaned back in his chair. He knew that Ghost was wasting your resources so he decided to let you in on a secret.

“As their commanding officer, you know I highly value the word of my men. But I do remember during my school days, that boys would tend to lie about an illness just to get sent to the infirmary and eventually home,” he explained. “It’s no secret that some soldiers, even Ghost, show a fondness for you.”

You blushed at his response, you couldn’t imagine that of all people, the stoic Ghost had a schoolboy crush on you. Hell, you hated your school nurse and always dreaded going to the doctor. You went days before telling your mom that you might have broken your finger during recess (you can still remember her rushing to the emergency room the minute she saw your bruised and puffy finger).

“I’ll talk to him the next time he comes in, which I hope he doesn’t,” you said, “thanks for the advice. And don’t forget, I always have a pack of nicotine gum for you if you ever decide to quit.” He chuckled and politely shooed you away. As you shut the door, you shook your head as you heard a lighter flick and smelled the familiar scent of a cigar.

Right on schedule, Simon came strolling into the pharmacy. You had just finished chatting with Soap and chastised him for yet another antibiotic prescription. This time it was for an infected foot wound after forgetting to change his socks and wading in still, grimy water during a mission.

As Soap gave you a cheeky smile saying he’d be back, Ghost tried to suppress his jealousy. Why did Soap have to be blessed with a purulent foot wound instead of him? Maybe he’ll try that one next.

“Ah Simon, I’m heading out to lunch if you’d like to join. I’m presuming it’s still the throat issue so I can check it out after.” You said and reached into the fridge under the counter to grab your food.

You made sure to lock up the pharmacy and lower the protective barriers, you couldn’t let anyone access the “good stuff.” Your tech said their goodbyes as they went to the mess hall for some warm food.

It was the dead of summer but today was surprisingly balmy. You knew there were some tables outside so you pushed the exit door and sat down on one side. He sat opposite you as you opened up your salad and half sandwich.

“So, can I tell your story?” you said before taking a bite. He nodded watching you intently.

“There was a time I broke my finger during recess and didn’t tell my mom for the next 3 days. You should’ve seen her face when I revealed my oozing, bruised ring finger. The thought of missing school and recess was devastating so I hid it like a child.” you explained and held up your left hand showing how your ring finger was slightly askew compared to the others. He laughed heartily, which made you also laugh in return.

After wiping some tears from your eyes you went on, “And that’s why my mom was so shocked when I got my MPharm. She always tells my dad that she doesn’t understand how someone so adverse to doctors went into healthcare.”

“We all have our weird obsessions, plus you are a natural,” he said and was almost at a loss for words as you smiled back at him, the sun hitting perfectly on your face and dancing in your hair.

“Anyways, I told Captain Price that story and he had such a different experience. He said that as a young lad, he and his mates would do anything it would take to get into the infirmary and home. I couldn't believe kids were so smart and had the forethought to plan something like that!”

Ghost knew where this was going. He also received notification that the tests came back clear of any illness. He knew the jig was up but couldn’t run away from the confrontation.

“Now, I’m not debunking your mystery illness, Simon. But I just wanted to talk to you privately and ask if there was anything else that you haven’t told me?” You asked and knew you had got him hook, line, and sinker. His eyes glancing around and his sweaty palms were confirmation of your theory.

He took a few moments to answer and you both sat in silence. You finished the remainder of your food and wiped your hands neatly as he stroke the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I guess I was just finding an excuse to talk to you,” he began to explain and you could see his extremities begin to grow flush. “I, uh, didn’t know how to so once I ran out of excuses with the shots, I decided to fake a sore throat,” he sheepishly replied.

With his confession, you couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh you did. Hard. It took you a minute before returning your composure.

“You know that the other soldiers can just have a regular conversation with me. I don’t bite and I swear I’ve talked Gaz’s ears off about pollen and flowers. I just feel bad now for making you undergo all those tests,” you said gently placing your hand on top of his.

“I do see what you mean though. If I had a doctor as handsome as you, I would have every illness, injury, and question under the sun.” You couldn’t leave him thinking you didn’t reciprocate your feelings. With that, it was your turn to blush.

“It’s rather childish isn’t it?” He said as he gently caressed your other free hand. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“How about you make it up to me with dinner? I can show you that there’s more than just textbook knowledge to me” you offered, “I know a surprising amount about languages, I can flirt with you in 10 different ones.”

“It’s a date, gorgeous. I’m all ears for anything you have to say,” he said and you both looked like lovesick teens, “As long as you keep this a secret. You know the doctors would never believe me if I actually got sick.”

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After months of dating, you revealed a secret. “After I spoke to Price, I had a suspicion to check your medical record. You know I could see you never went to the doctor right? You never logged any visits for your alleged sore throat.” You said jokingly and lightly punched his shoulder. “I just can’t believe you roped everyone into it. I can have a normal conversation, babe.”

He laughed at your reveal and kissed the top of your forehead. “I just wanted to make sure your university course load prepared you for anything.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cater, Ruggie: The Secret in a Smile

Caycay, bestie… I am so sorry that SSR Crowley stole your spotlight 😭 (Is that why Cater looks so Mean Girls in his groovy... He's seeking petty revenge against Crowley/j)

Some cute stuff from the vignettes that I wasn't able to include in this fic: Cater makes a reference to TsumTsums! He mentions being into this mobile game with cute round creatures. Cater also tells a story about a 5-year old girl giving him a flower after his club's performance at a cultural festival (omg, do they mean the one in book 5?!). Ruggie teases him and says Cater must have been that little girl's first crush 😂

A Tale as Old as Time.

“Ne, ne, Ruggie-kun! Check this one out~ It's all the way from the Queendom of Roses!"

Cater jabbed a thumb at a painting of a young blonde girl dressed in a modest sky blue frock and apron, a small black bow in her hair. She couldn’t have been older than 10 years of age, still petite enough to squish inside a glass bottle with a narrow neck. The bottled child was adrift in a sudsy sea, her face frozen in an expression of slight worry.

Ruggie took one look at the artwork, then wrinkled his nose. “Sure sucks to be in her shoes. What’s this even supposed to show us, anyway? Doesn’t make a whole lotta sense to me.”

"Not a lot from the Queendom does if you aren't already familiar with its topsy-turvy stories~" Cater placed a hand on his hip and leaned forward, grinning. "This one is pretty popular! It's about a girl that wants an audience with the Queen of Hearts. She gets lost on the journey there, meets strange people and experiences even stranger things on the way. This is just one leg of that trip!"

"Wouldn’t the castle be further inland? How'd she end up in the middle of the ocean?"

“It’s about the perspective of the shot.” Cater formed a frame with his hands, catching his underclassman in it. He pulled back, creating the illusion of sizing Ruggie down. “She drank this bottled liquid she found and that shrank her down—so really, the ocean isn’t that big.”

A grimace.

“Man, talk about no sense of self preservation. She just chugged an unlabeled bottle without a second thought. Must’ve been real desperate.” Ruggie paused. “Weeeell, not like I’m one to talk about being desperate. You really can’t afford to be picky sometimes. If it fills your stomach, it fills your stomach.”

“You’d drink it too, huh… I don’t think I could do that. I’d at least want to see how the menu describes it before I order—though I guess it also depends on how ‘cammable the drink is! And hey, think about all the cool pics I could grab from a worm's eye point of view!”

"Heh, you don't seem too pressed about living life as an ant."

"Cay-kun likes to look on the bright side of things!" he declared with a wink and a peace sign. "The lost girl... she worried so much about finding her destination, she forgets to stop and smell the roses. She overlooks a lot of the fun people she could have spent time with."

Hopping from place to place, missed people—familiar elements, resurfacing a childhood of being uprooted and dragged about. Never to fully settle.

A tea party here, a brief convo there. Just enough to keep him placated, but not enough to see beyond the surface of the looking glass.

His curiosity still left wanting.

She got into so much trouble, but didn't have any real friends to come and help her.

Sadness tugged at his heartstrings, but Cater's smile didn’t waver.

"... I can’t help but kinda pity the poor thing," he said quietly. Then, brightening in the next moment, "All her issues could've been avoided if she just looked before she leapt and made some connections."

“Yeah, she definitely should’ve played smarter, not harder. Maybe if she kissed up to the locals, they’d have come to her rescue." Ruggie shrugged. "It works for me and Leona-san."

“Right? A smile goes a long way to getting what you want!” Cater poked the corners of his mouth. “You totes get me.”

“Cuz it takes a trickster to know another one on sight.”

"Wow, it sounds so mean when you put it like that. We're not tricksters, we just know how to use our smiles to problem-solve~"

"Giving a word a fresh coat of paint doesn't make it any less shady. At least be honest with yourself," the hyena smirked.

“Eeeh, I’m always honest!”

They shared a laugh—Ruggie, a snicker. Cater, lighter, more bubbly, like a carbonated mystery drink. When the effervescence died down, he cast another glance at the painting.

Too big for her small world of the sea, too small for the big world that loomed beyond it. Trapped within glass walls. Curled into herself in her delicate chambers.

Her perspective and his, one and the same.

Poor thing, poor thing, poor thing.

Cater summoned his strength and bore the full brunt of his smile.

“I’m sure she’ll find what she’s looking for… one day.”

[bioethicists]

hm i really hope that someone has said this better than me but the betterhelp ads (specifically the video ones, as the podcast ones tend to be less scripted) are such poignant examples of alienation + the role of 'go to therapy' in perpetuating that alienation. keep in mind that, if you personally found a therapist who is genuinely healing for you + that therapist happens to be through betterhelp- i'm genuinely happy for you + that experience does not invalidate anything i have to say below! (but jsyk they're trying to sell your shit to facebook lol)

starting strong w/ the fact that betterhelp is essentially the uber of therapy (aka using an independent contractor model which is harmful + predatory towards its providers), rushing in to fill the market on largely uninsured and/or uninformed ppl who want the ease of a concierge system without the cost + lacks a meaningful supervision system (which led to one gay man being recommended a conversion therapist when he asked for someone to help with his identity struggles, btw!). smarter people than me have written about the ways in which these trendy independent contractor apps strip people of labor rights, fail to provide adequate wages, + in the case of healthcare apps, increase digital surveillance + decrease accountability demanded from providers while exploiting the failure of the US healthcare system in order to churn a profit w/o actually creating sustainable, equitable change.

the betterhelp video ads all circle around a theme- a millennial starts talking about some form of emotional pain or worry, usually relatively standard existential worries ("do you ever think nothing has meaning?") or life worries ("i hate my job" "i think i'm gay"). their friends or the ppl around them respond blankly + coldly, looking at them like they're crazy. while i understand these ads are supposed to be tongue in cheek, they demonstrate the crushing reality of our alienation from one another- the solution to your friends responding to your evident pain with confusion + apathy is to confine that pain to a therapy session! nobody wants to hear your struggles or understands them- come generate profits for us by facetiming a newly graduated 24 year old who can barely make rent!

this theme fits well with what already put me off about betterhelp's marketing- their goal has never been to provide access to therapy for those who want it or to altruistically fill in some healthcare gap. their goal, bolstered by the rise in emotional suffering following, you know, the worldwide pandemic, is to generate + increase demand for therapy as a commodity. their earlier podcast ads focused on convincing others that therapy "isn't just for crazy ppl" + "everyone should be in therapy". regardless of if you personally agree with that statement, it should be evident that this is a blatant marketing tactic in which therapy is a commodity to be peddled, not an offer of support or healing. in fact, they're probably actively shying away from treating "crazy people", bcuz their flimsy support systems could not possibly handle an influx of ppl regularly in crisis or experiencing breaks with a common reality. their target audience is your average millennial under late capitalism + post COVID - anxious, lonely, vaguely depressed, unhappy with their jobs, worried + hopeless about their futures.

i'm not here to tell anyone not to get therapy. that's a personal decision + is none of my fucking business. it's about questioning the total alienation we feel from one another, such that pouring our heart our unexpectedly to a friend + being met with a blank stare is framed as "haha you need therapy" + not "it's crushing that this is how distant we are from one another". it's about a company noticing that (unfortunately very real) distance + fear of vulnerability + using that to direct our emotions into the confines of a business transaction under abusive labor conditions. it's about a world in which we are not engaging with one another emotionally (despite, or i guess bcuz of: widespread suffering, recent mass death, class warfare/untenable working conditions, increased pressure of fascist politics, generational trauma + abuse, etc etc). commodifying therapy isn't going to make that loneliness go away- it's going to normalize it.

[foreverinadais]

pairings: kinda mean!bf joel miller x reader 

summary: you try and prove yourself to joel and ellie by exploring an abandoned (strictly off-limits) barn. after finding yourself in trouble, joel is extremely angry.

warnings: mean joel, but mean because he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to reader, a whole lotta angst, violence, cussing, sad reader, insecure! reader, slightly toxic! and angry! joel, mostly fluffy ending, ellie being amazing as always :)

word count: 4k 

You didn’t mean for it to happen.

It had come out of nowhere, silent, and you were not.

You had ignored his orders purposefully. Ignored him because you were smarter than he thought, stronger than he knew. He had told you, stoic, face hard with no smidge of a smile, of anything other than pure seriousness: “Stay.”

The word had made you angry. He had ordered you like a child. It felt degrading. But even Ellie knew when to listen to him.

Carefully, you snuck out of the room he had all but banished you too, trying to avoid the creaky floorboards and stray debris. If Ellie heard you, she would no doubt force you down, just as worried for your safety as Joel.

You had nearly made it to the stairs, grinning, until you stepped on a faulty board. A loud creak sounded throughout the house, and you sucked in a breath, eyes shutting as you stood as still as you could. You stayed for a minute, two, until deciding you were safe.

The fresh air hit you as soon as you opened the door. It was cold, making you shiver as you pulled the sleeves of your top down to cover your hands. The barn wasn’t far from here, you had seen it when you had found the village. Joel had muttered something about staying away from it, that it was too dangerous. “Could be crawlin’ with infected. ‘s too risky.” You had gone to argue, but were shut down instantly with a “no.”

You sighed at the memory, a fresh wave of confidence hitting you as you began to walk faster to the barn. You were about to prove yourself. Find supplies and bring them back. Though Joel would never admit it, the three of you had been struggling. Food had become sparce and most of the towns you had come by had already been raided. You, well, Joel, had checked everywhere. Everywhere but-

The barn. You could see it, red, deteriorating wood inviting you to explore. Your stomach dropped slightly at the sight of it, but you shook it off; this was perhaps your only chance to prove to the man you could be useful.

Your pace sped up, feet carrying you faster to the large building as you clasped the knife you’d taken from Joel’s stash. He would kill you if he found out. Whilst you truly sucked at shooting, you had little experience in hand-to-hand combat. You prayed the time you spent watching the pair had imparted some wisdom to you.

The door loomed over you, the early morning sun making a huge shadow cast onto the ground. You shivered, nerves overtaking the confidence as if it had never been there at all. But then you remembered all the time Ellie had defended you from Joel’s comments. All the times in which Joel himself had shot an Infected to save your life. You had to repay them by finding something, a stash of ammunition, maybe a few tins of food, medicine.

But more than that, you had to prove yourself. Had to prove you were worth saving all the times they had saved you.

You had remembered seeing a gap where a window once was, haybarns underneath it to form a boost up. You ran round the building, and once you located it, you began to make your way through. It was dark inside, you could already tell, but the sun seeping through the cracks in the wood made it so that you would not be completely submerged by the darkness.

You didn’t leave yourself time to hesitate as you climbed through the gap, careful not to fall too harshly on the ground. Instead, you lowered yourself slowly, holding your breath as your feet hit the floor. You wanted to celebrate, but realised quickly you had no reason to yet; the easy part was over.

Your eyes adjusted to the dark of the barn fairly quickly, thanks to all the nights you had spent outside, Joel’s harsh but necessary rules of no light so as to not attract any Raiders rendering helpful.

The barn was messy, left hastily no doubt by its owners, or others who came to see its contents. That worried you- if others had been here, surely nothing would be left. But your doubts were paused as you spotted a glistening from a shelf. You rushed over to it, careful to keep quiet in case Joel was around the area, and equally careful not to trip on any debris.

You could’ve cried when you realised what it was- tins. Tins of beans and some soups and various labels. You began stuffing them into your bag, not too bothered by the clinking they made until you heard it.

Click click click.

Your heart dropped to the floor, your body freezing in absolute fear as you realised what you’d heard. You suddenly could not remember a single thing Joel had said about clickers, about how to kill one, about to use the knife. All you could do was stay still, silent, trying desperately to control your breathing, and the tears stinging your eyes.

Click click click.

It sounded closer. The barn was big, the sound probably echoed. But you had no idea where it was coming from. You couldn’t see anywhere in the dark, nor could you hear anything but the clicker and your heartbeat thumping against your chest. You were terrified it could hear it too.

You stayed still, trying to calm yourself as you assessed your options. You could run. Take off back the way you came and not stop running until you reached the house. You realised that in your haste, you hadn’t put anything under the ledge. No, you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself back up, not quietly anyway.

You could hide. Somewhere, anywhere in the barn. There were stary haybarns, cupboards, and bits of equipment left and broken. But that would make noise. And the clicker wasn’t going anywhere.

You were trapped. And it hit you all at once, that this is what Joel was worried about, that he was right… that you were probably already dead.

Click click click.

And then you could see it. It had been in the depths of the barn somewhere and you realised that it had probably been trapped here for some time. That it had probably wrecked the barn, not Raiders like you had thought. Your eyes widened in fear, your brain screaming at you. It took everything in you not to scream.

You could fight.

You had a knife. You could sneak up on it, stab it, kill it and make your way out. It felt like your best option. With shaky hands, you carefully pulled the weapon from your pocket, watching the clicker stalk through the barn.

The large front door of the barn wasn’t far from you. You could make it in running distance, open it, with the hope it wasn’t jammed or too heavy, shut it after you and leave it trapped or dead. But there was no way you could do any of that silently. You had to kill it. You had to fight.

The clicker pauses a few feet away from you and you grimace. Fighting the urge to be sick. You raise the knife, ignoring the stab of your heart in your chest, the voice in your head screaming that your already dead, that you let them both down. But that they would be better off without you.

And then you were running, knife raised, cans clinking in your bag. The clicker spun around, screeching, the sound making your blood curl in horror as you let out a shriek. You stabbed the knife into the side of its neck, making it recoil in hurt. You attempted to retrieve it but failed, deciding instead to run to the door.

You could hear the clicker regain itself, knocking through debris, hitting everything in its path as you ran. You couldn’t stop the wails leaving your mouth.

You reached the door, attempting to push it open but realising something was stopping it. “Fuckfuckfuck.” You repeated under your breath, very aware the clicker was a moment away from you. You pushed harder, screaming, realising this was it.

You thought of Ellie. Of her jokes that made you snort. Of the long talks you shared when Joel was searching for food. You would miss her.

And you thought of Joel. Of his hard stare, expression impossible. You thought of the moments where his eyes softened for the first time, when you had shared a story of your past and he realised what you’d been through. And you thought of the first time he had kissed you. Or the first time he held you. And every moment since.

You held your breath, time slowing, as you gave up, eyes squeezing shut as you could hear the clicker bounding toward you…

And then you were falling. You heard a gunshot, two, three, ears ringing as light flooded your eyes. So, this was death. It was cold and smelt like dirt.

It didn’t take you long to realise you were not dead. Especially when large hands were pulling you harshly to your feet. Your heavy breathing matched Joel’s, his face twisted in an expression you had never seen before. You looked to where the clicker was dead on the ground, to where the door had been opened from the outside, to where Ellie was stood watching, mouth agape.

And then you looked back at Joel. His eyes were scanning your face, down to your hands, even your feet. “Were you bit?” His voice was harsh, a strained whisper as he held onto your arms so tight, that you could already feel the bruises forming.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think so. Joel-” He let go instantly, and you stumbled back, rubbing the skin he was holding.

“What were you thinking?” He was quiet, eerily so, and your blood ran cold.

“I just, I wanted to help.” You remembered the food you found and took your bag off your shoulder, “I found this-”

“I don’t give a fuck what you found.” He had ripped the bag from you and thrown it onto the ground. Ellie was already grabbing it. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? DO YOU?” He shouted now, and your heart leapt.

“I-”

“You almost fuckin’ died. Do you understand? Huh?”

“I know but I didn’t! And I actually found something-”

“You could’ve died. Don’t care about what you found if it costed you your life. You disobeyed a direct order, and you nearly died cause of it. I knew you couldn’t handle it. Pathetic.” The word was whispered but it bit you like venom. You felt your bottom lip tremble slightly, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stop anything else. Joel was already turning away from you, shaking his head in disgust. Muttering to himself as he walked away, back to the house. You let your body fall to the ground with exhaustion.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, your okay. You did good, okay? Look at this shit, you got food, and I’m fucking starving.” Ellie attempted to cheer you up, hand squeezing your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get back, yeah?”

You shook your head, looking up at her. “He hates me.” Your voice was smaller than it had ever been, and Ellie shook her head.

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just pissed cause he cares. He wants you to be safe. Hey, so do I. And you are, so he’ll get over it.”

“He’s never looked at me like that before.” You whispered, wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your top. “He hates me.” Ellie joined you on the floor, wrapping her arms around you in a hug. She said nothing else, not until you were ready to stand. You both made your way back to the house.

 Joel didn’t resurface all day. Ellie had done a wonderful job at distracting you, had even managed to make you smile, before ordering you too have a wash- “Your dirty and you kinda smell after, you know, running from a fucking clicker.”

You did, cold water hitting your body as you scrubbed the dirt from your skin. You watched as it dripped down the drain, a reminder of the events from the day. You should’ve felt refreshed, clean. Instead, you felt rotten.

Dusk had begun to set in, and you had hardly spoke since being back. You were sat at the table, knees to your chest, as Ellie handed you some food. “Here, eat this. And don’t say no, I’ll be pissed.” You forced a smile, taking a bite from the sludge in the bowl and thanking her. “You thirsty? I could get you some water if you want.” You sighed, putting your legs down and looking at her. She looked concerned, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you.

“I’m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn’t have snuck out and I shouldn’t have left you and-”

“Hey, I can handle myself. I’m not mad that you left.”

“But-”

“You took a risk and got us food. And you are safe. Sooo, nothing bad really happened, yeah?” You opened your mouth to talk again but she stopped you, “And before you mention Joel, he’s fine. I’m sure he’s just having a moment and then he’ll be back and ready to talk to you.”

“Okay, okay. Thanks, kid. Means a lot.” Ellie grinned, reaching over to pinch your cheek and you chuckled.

“Would’ve been pissed if you did die, though. I know you don’t think so, but we both need you. Who else would actually laugh at my jokes?” You chuckled, genuinely, squeezing her hand.

“Thank you, Ellie.” You carried on talking, and you were almost distracted when the door clicked open. You jumped, spinning around to see Joel. He didn’t even look your way, ignoring you completely, slamming the door shut so that its echo reached your ears, and stomping up the stairs. You swallowed harshly, turning to look at Ellie whose lips were pursed awkwardly.

“Sooo… I lied, he’s still mad. But he’ll get over it.” You sighed, burying your face in your hands, attempting to hide your emotion from the poor girl, not wanting her to have to calm you down again.

You made sure Ellie was in her room for the night before deciding to face Joel. You were sure he was in the room you were sharing, the door only slightly ajar, Joel’s trick to still hear if anything was happening.

You almost didn’t want to see him. The guilt was eating away at you, the image of his face, his words, scarred into your brain. You had never seen him so angry, so disgusted. It made your stomach churn.

You inhaled deeply, squeezing back the tears, shuffling in place. And then you pushed open the door, slowly, quietly.

He was lying on his side on top of the covers, face hidden from your view. As if he knew you would come in and he didn’t want to see you. you were still a moment, frown tugging your lips down, eyes already watery. He hadn’t acknowledged your presence, and if he knew you were there, he pretended he didn’t.

You wanted to speak but found words failing you. Instead, you walked to the opposite side of the bed. You hovered for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall, the only sign he was alive. You so desperately wanted to reach out to him. Wanted to curl up in his arms and fall asleep forever. But you stopped yourself.

The bed dipped as you sat on the edge of it, the mattress squeaking. If Joel was awake, he would surely know of your presence. You were sure he was, eyes open, a scowl on his face as he refused to look at you. A part of you wanted to turn the other way, too.

But you kept staring at his back. Willing him to wake up, to talk to you. You hated going to sleep with any bad blood between you, in fear one of you would not wake up. You eventually gave up, lying back on the bed with a sigh. You had left a considerable distance between the two of you, ensuring your bodies were separate enough that he wouldn’t feel corrupted by your presence.

You thought about how, even though you hadn’t died, perhaps you had lost Joel. The thought made you choke on a sob you had been repressing, hating crying, especially in front of Joel. But you couldn’t help it as they tumbled from your lips. Instead, you buried your face in your pillow, muffling the sounds as much as you could.

Beside you, Joel tensed. He knew you were there before you even opened the door. He could always feel you, like a part of himself.

He had sensed you were in danger before Ellie had found him. He was about to scold her for coming outside when she told him you were gone. He went into survival mode, knowing instantly where you had gone. He hadn’t run as fast as he had in years, avoiding trees and scaffolding to make it to the barn.

He heard a clatter and was there. The door was jammed, making him huff as Ellie readied the gun. When he heard you scream, he felt a new feeling rise inside of him, and he suddenly pulled the door open, and there you were. Ellie had shot the clicker dead before either of you had time to run.

You were terrified, he could see. You were trembling, eyes scouring your surroundings. He gripped you tightly, unsure of whether he was dreaming. Unsure of if he had lost you, that his worst fears had come true.

“Were you bit?” You had said no, and he saw red. Worry becoming anger as he let go of you. He was vaguely aware of what he was saying but he couldn’t care, not right now. Not when he was so close to losing you over something so stupid. 

He didn’t look back as he left.

He could hear you crying now. Could hear the choked sobs leaving your body, though muffled in a poor attempt of being silenced by a pillow. He didn’t dare look. Knowing that if he did, he would break.

But your shaky breathing and sniffling got to him. And his anger resolved into worry again, before breaking into something more. He turned over, bed creaking and dipping as he did, taking in your tearstained cheeks, your puffy eyes. You were the epitome of pain. Emotional, saddened pain.

And then his hand was reaching out for you. You flinched slightly, not noticing how he was now facing you. His face was stoic still. Not completely ready to forgive, but his hand had met your waist, and he was tugging you forward slightly. “C’mere.” You heard him mutter and it was enough reassurance for you.

You sobbed freely as soon as your face met his chest, hands clutching at his shirt in desperation to feel him closer. He shushed you gently, rubbing your back with his rough palms, feeling a lump rise in his own throat. It took you a while to calm down. Your tears had soaked his shirt and your own, but they eventually ceased, breath shaky as you stayed still.

When you trusted your voice enough to speak again, you broke the silence of the room with a hiccup of, “I’m so sorry.” Joel shut his eyes, tensing slightly.

“Don’t do that.” You sniffled, releasing the grip you had on his shirt, and wiping at your eyes. “Don’t need’ta apologise, not right now.”

“Do you h-hate me now?” Your voice was so small that Joel strained to hear, but he did, and he grunted softly.

“No.”

“But you're angry at me.” Joel sighed, gently shuffling away from your body so that he could face you.

“Yes.” Your lip quivered and he lifted his thumb to trace it. “How could I not be? You were almost killed.”

“I know-”

“You don’t.” his voice was harsh again, and he dropped his hand, moving to sit up completely. “You have no idea what would’ve happened if you…” His head dropped into his hands as he sighed again, deeply. “Can’t lose you, too.” Your heart dropped as you realised the extent of the fear he must’ve gone through. He had trusted again, after all these years, he had opened his heart to you, and you’d almost broken it.

You sat up after him, hands going to rest in his lap as you craved to be close to him again. “You didn’t lose me.”

“But I nearly did. If I can’t protect you, both of you… then what the fuck am I?”

“Joel, you do protect me. But I didn’t listen to you because-” You hesitated, Joel could tell. 

“Why?” Joel asked and you suddenly felt silly.

“Because you don’t trust me.”

“Hmm?” You sighed, hiding your face from Joel by resting it in the crook of his neck. The smell of his skin grounded you.

“You don’t trust me. I just wanted to prove myself, I don’t know, to you? Or maybe to myself? I just, I wanted to do something to help. But it was pathetic.”

Joel’s heart dropped as you repeated the word he had said. He truly hadn’t meant it, not in the slightest. But it had slipped out before he could catch it. His anger at the situation was slowly diminishing.

“No.” He said, gently maneuvering so that he was looking at you again. His gaze softened and you finally felt like you could meet his eyes again. “Hey, listen. You listening?” His voice was still stern, and you nodded instantly. “I didn’t mean that. And ‘m sorry, I was an asshole for saying it. But you can’t do that shit again, okay? You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, I know you are capable, hell, more than me, but that was dangerous.”

You nodded, sniffling, looking to your lap before you felt Joel’s touch lifting your chin. You melted into his touch, grabbing onto his wrist in fear he’d pull away. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“Promise.” And he knew you were telling the truth. “As long as you promise to trust me more.” Joel nodded, guilt filling his insides as he shifted in his place.

“Promise.”

“Listen, Joel, I am sorry, next time I’ll tell you or Ellie-”

“Shhh, you don’t need to apologise. Ever. Let’s get some rest, okay? You’ve had a busy day.” You smiled slightly, still feeling a pang in your chest. But your worries were leaving slowly as he shuffled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest. “Your arm okay?” He muttered, analyzing the irritation on your skin.

“yeah, ‘s fine.” He nodded, placing a kiss on your skin gently. You clutched onto him, breathing him in, feeling his heartbeat as if it were your own. 

“Sleep, baby. Your safe.”

“Okay, Joel.”

“G’night.”

“Goodnight.”