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poisonheiress · 8 months

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Someone needs to say it: The "Heaven is actually bad" plot line that Hazbin is based around is useless when you spend more then 2 minutes thinking about Vivzie's Hell and her characters.

Besides it being much too early for this idea, the revelation that Heaven or at least the beings running it aren't good people has little to no impact when the people who are being harmed by this are all horrible people. Stay with me here. None of these people are people who were unfairly brought into hell and we are never ever introduced to someone who was either. Why should we care that Heaven is "evil" and blocking redemption when all the sinners in hell we see are the worst of the worst who would have never gotten in even if it was fair.

For the "Heaven is bad" plot line to actually work, you need people who were just one sin away from Heaven, who would've gotten into Heaven if circumstance hadn't forced them down a path that stole it from them. You need characters who aren't comedic villains but land in the middle of morally grey. Those who deserved to be in Heaven but because Heaven refused to consider their circumstances, they were tossed to burn with people much worse than them. Those are the people who should be your main cast cause those are the people who would actually be impacted by Heaven being bad/ Heaven lying.

Angel dust, for all his trauma, was still part of the mafia and likely had killed people before (showing to almost take joy in it). Husk became an overlord and gambled souls, so he had to have had blood on his hands before hell. Alastor is a serial killer, and the list goes on and on. Sure, these characters are (somewhat) interesting, but they don't make for good characters to have when the key plot line is that Heaven is a scam. Even if that fact is true, none of them were ever going to get there in the first place and this is something we also se in every single background sinner shown in Hell too. They were never close to getting there, so why would they or we care that Heaven is bad when all sinners are shown to be horrific people who are at best in the dark grey area of morality.

If you look at it from the "angel's are unfairly killing sinners" route, it still doesn't work. If the angels are killing them, what makes it different then the sinner on sinner violence that hell is full off? Why is them dying by angels this bad thing when they are just as likely if not 10x times more likely to get knifed in the back by other sinners in hell the other 364 days, especially when everyone here apparently is just as horrible as the next person. You cannot condemn the angels for killing demons and then make a joke of out sinners killing each other and never show sinners who doesn't want to kill people. Life either matters or it doesn't and when the main cast doesn't even show a care for life (outside of Charlie's who's entire flaw is her naivety), why should the audience.

On top of that, Vivzie's whole overpopulation aspect and the Heaven plot line would connect better if she actually had people like those I mentioned above, people who stole to survive but got tossed out cause stealing is technically wrong, people who killed another to protect someone else but were still sent to hell because even though they saved that person's life that person wasn't supposed to be saved, people who passively engaged in sins but never really did anything harmful under them. This would add into how Hell is so overpopulated and highlight why its so important that Heaven is evil/ why Charlie's plan isn't just a naive pathetic fever dream.

In the end, Vivzie should have never made Heaven the central plot of this show nor tried to assign this blatant good vs evil to that conflict. Neither her characters nor her writing choices are able to respond to this conflict in a way that will end or even tell the story in a satisfactory manner.

#anti hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse criticism #also I am not just talking out my ass for this #I had/have this same problem in one of my original works #where I had to make the relationship between Heaven and God and cambion a lot more complex then just oh this side bad this side good #and thats what you have to do as a fucking writer is ask the hard question and be ready to scrap characters and ideas to answer them #When you deal with human characters nothing is black vs white and the minute you claim it is #you have failed

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grlpartdoll · 19 days

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Thinking about y2k fast and furious version of Ghost.

A street racer who's got very little to lose, who grew up in parts of town that destroyed his family whole.

It's only him and his little sister now, and Soap, and Price, and Gaz.

Soap is his best friend since birth, the man who grew up living beside him in the same shithole apartment. He would steal and sometimes he would bring back enough food for Simon and his sister to eat for the first time in days.

And Price, his mentor. He owns about every garage and autoparts dealerships in their town. When Ghost stole one of his cars and he found it wholly destroyed in Simon and Johny's little makeshift garage in the abandoned lot just east of town, the parts undone and laying about, he decided that he could use curious people on his team. People who wanted to know more about cars and were actually ready to get their hands dirty for it.

Recruiting them was a whole other thing, though. They were evasive, disappearing everytime Price went out of his way to find them. He eventually caught them both at the local pub, the two too distracted or too drunk to even noticed Price had made it inside.

Now that's history. Ghost and Soap have made their way into the street racing world and have made it to the top without playing dirty even so much as once. Gaz was already at the top when they began, and he was the only one who, granted a bit hesitantly, let them into the tight circle of winners.

In comes in you. The little wide-eyed doe lost in the midst of their world. Or so Ghost thinks.

He sees you in the crowd one night and it's over for him — can't focus on anything else but finding you again when you get swept up by the crowd and disappear from his sight.

He knows he won't be able to ride properly if he doesn't find you. He's obsessive and has grown into someone who cannot live without getting what he wants.

so he lets Soap take the wheel this time, and the money that goes with the winning spot. He knows Gaz and Soap will probably come head to head and split the money anyway. More for them if they split it two ways.

Either way, he eventually finds you in one of the opened garages on the street they've blocked for the event, gazing into a pink car's popped hood. Your fingers are grazing the parts and edges of it, your face flushed with midnight humidity.

He watches you for a long time, and eventually finds something to say.

"Y'like it?"

"Fudge cake!" You curse— or try, grumbling at the masked man. He has his trusty balaclava on, and it only serves to make your heart race faster than it should

"Fudge cake?" He replies, cocking a brow underneath his mask. You can't see it, but you can hear it in his voice.

"You scared me." You scold the giant in the doorway, his two hands holding onto the upper frame.

"You're off the tracks, little mouse."

"I just got... Curious." You mumbled, soft and quiet. Despite his initial perspective on you, you actually do seem to fit in here. Even though you're not wearing ten pounds of makeup like most of the girls here, you have gone through the effort to apply some mascara and lip gloss and something else Ghost can't name for shit. Something makes your face glossy and warm, but he's ready to bet it isn't makeup.

You're wearing a tiny turquoise and pink skirt with modern detailing, with a shirt that rises well above the decent mark where tummy and breast interchanges. Stockings and legwarmers and leather gloves complete the look. Your hair's up into two pigtails.

He's suddenly self conscious about his treadbear jeans, wife beater and leather jacket. He's all stained with car oil and something else he can't identify from the garage.

"This yours?" You ask suddenly, and he's all quiet for a moment, confusion on his face.

"No," he finally makes, leaning closer to look at you better, clearer. You notice scars and still healing wounds on his face where the balaclava allows. Still, that doesn't scare you, for some reason. If anything, you just curiously cock your head to the side, and smile a bit wider. "No. Wanna see mine?"

"Uh, yeah." You reply, perking up a little. An innocent gesture, but so unlike anyone else he's ever had the pleasure of meeting in his parts of the city. You move like a little doe, all bouncy and flailing like you're too excited for your own body to handle it. "I do."

He nods his head as a sign to get out, and you do, following him as he brings you two back to the crowd, where he's parked. He doesn't miss the fact that you don't ask questions and simply follow, blindly trusting him to get you to the right place.

When you two get to his car, you're in the thick of the crowd, so he has to keep you close, walking with his hand holding the back of your neck. He even has to lean down to your level so you can hear him over the arguing, the music and the people making animated bets on the winners. And if his lips trail a tiny path up your earlobe, you don't seem to notice, only get a little shy, your shoulders shimmying for a single moment before you're giggling awkwardly at whatever he's saying.

It's so unlike the practiced charisma of the girls around him usually, so different from the stuff he has been used to, that it only deepens his obsession with you.

Thankfully for him, the big fuss is centered around Johny and Gaz and another rider he doesn't know personally, though, so he's got you all to himself for the moment as he shows off his baby.

He even lets you sit in the front and lets you get a feel for the leather seats, asking off-handedly how you felt about being a passenger princess for the rest of your life. You laugh, and don't reply, taking it as a joke. He wasn't joking. But that's okay. He laughs too, deep and hoarse and unpredictably rough.

Later, when the night has settled and the winner has been announced and you've cheered and whooped at your heart's content for Gaz and Soap (Ghost told you to cheer for them, so you did..), Simon even lets you have a ride around in his special, (very illegally modified) car !!!

He takes you to his favorite spot, a rundown drive-in movie theater that no longer works, and the both of you speak until the sun rises at the horizon. You fall asleep eventually, and Simon just watches as you slumber, amazed that he's caught himself such a pretty little thing.

That's all I have tbh I just think it could make a Very interesting plot.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x afab!reader #streetracer!ghost #racer!ghost #streetracer!au

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kurishiri · 15 days

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william v.s. darius . . . darius vogel END 🪽

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: none, but you’ll definitely find out a thing or two about darius here.

Kate: I’ll go with Darius to find the boy. I would like to support him as someone who’s familiar with the streets here.

Darius: That makes me happy to hear. It was also because of you that we were so close to catching him too.

William: Indeed. I’m sure you will find it heartening to have the little robin accompany you to assist with the streets around here.

W: Kate.

W: You are one to jump to the fray for others, but you are also a clever little robin who never forgets about us and returns to her nest.

W: I am confident you won’t get lost on your way.

I stared back at the eyes fixed straight on me.

Kate: Alright, leave it to me.

(I will cooperate with Darius, as Crown’s fairytale keeper.)

Darius: You’re a reliable one, aren’t you. Well then, let’s venture down these streets, miss fairytale keeper.

After running the streets for a little while——

Darius: Oh? What’s this?

Darius pointed to something ahead of him, where on the stone pavement, it looked like some pebbles were all in one place.

It was an unnatural sight, to be sure, so we stopped to scrutinize it.

Kate: Are these... plum seeds?

Darius: From that box he flipped over, I take it.

Kate: Oh, then maybe it’s a trace that boy left behind after eating them?

Darius: Likely so. See, look over there, there are some more scattered over there.

Darius was looking toward a place ahead of us, but...

Kate: Umm... I’m really sorry, but I can’t see that far...

Darius: Ahh, is that so? I happen to have extremely good eyes. Oh, and a good sense of smell, too.

Kate: Oh, wow! I’m pretty jealous.

Darius: Mhm, it’s really convenient.

With an innocent smile on his lips, he looked at me with those honey-colored eyes,

and for some odd reason, I felt that those very eyes were looking down from above, in a place somewhere far off.

(...Is it because he said his eyes were good? No, I feel like there’s something more to it.)

Darius: Ah, I spot some pie crumbs. On the miss fairytale keeper’s cheeks.

Kate: Huh?

Darius: Hehe, over here.

He reached toward me,

and his gloved hands wiped it off.

Kate: T-thank you very much...

(Ack, that’s so embarrassing...! Does that mean it has always been on my cheeks?)

I felt my cheeks turning redder and redder, but I couldn’t move until Darius withdrew his fingers from me.

Darius: This path might have been the correct one.

When we hurried on——

I spotted a small back enter through a hidden entrance in the back road.

Darius: That’s him.

Kate: That road’s exit leads back here after a while.

K: If it’s alright, could you head to the exit up ahead and cover the path there?

K: I’ll go in to directly chase after him to drive him to the exit.

Darius: So I see. We’re using the pincer movement here, yes?

Trying to keep as quiet as possible, I moved with quick steps.

When I did, eventually I could hear another set of footsteps.

(...There he is.)

Up ahead was a place where sunlight couldn’t filter through, and up ahead I spotted the small back of that boy.

Slightly dirty boy: !!

The boy, having sensed my presence, turned back, and surprised, he ran off.

I, too, ran after him, closing the distance between him and the exit.

And in the path the boy was taking, it was as though an angel’s wings had spread——

Darius’ coat fluttered, blocking the way.

Darius: Would you not say it’s about a good time to accept your defeat?

Slightly dirty boy: F-for what!? Because I sure don’t know...

Darius: You nabbed her things, did you not?

Slightly dirty boy: Grk, I-I don’t remember stealing anything!

Darius: But I do. I saw you bump into her before putting your hand in her skirt pocket.

Slightly dirty boy: ...!

Darius: Oh, that’s not all either. You also stole some plums in the midst of a small scuffle and ate them. The scent of fruit juice is quite strong off you.

D: But even without the smell, there are stains near your mouth and on your sleeves. One look is all one needs to know.

Slightly dirty boy: Urgh...

In a panic, the boy rubbed his sleeve.

Darius: And thanks to that, you left quite a big trace of your trail behind.

D: But, if you were going to leave anything, you could have been more clever about it. [1]

Slightly dirty boy: ...

The boy hung his head, balling his hands into fists in frustration.

Kate: ...Hey, can I ask why you’re doing these things?

Slightly dirty boy: ...And what could you do if I told you?

Slightly dirty boy: You know too, don’t you? A brat like me can do nothing but steal if I wanna survive.

Slightly dirty boy: All you rich guys fill your pockets with too much stuff.

Slightly dirty boy: So what’s the big deal in giving a little of that away!? I don’t got a home or anyone to call family!

Darius: ...Hmm.

D: Hey, miss fairytale keeper. I do doubt this boy has any relation to the organization.

Kate: Hm? Ah, yes, that may be the case. But still.

(I can’t simply overlook this.)

Slightly dirty boy: Organization?

Darius: Ahh, no need to worry your pretty head over it. We were talking to ourselves.

D: But anyway, would you be so kind as to give back her things?

Slightly dirty boy: ...Finders keepers. It’s mine now.

Darius: Oh, do you need me to spell it out? You did not find it; you stole it.

D: So that’s why, let’s return the things to their rightful owner, okay?

Slightly dirty boy: Urgh...

Darius was wearing a bright smile on his face, as if he were erasing the boy’s will to talk back.

Slightly dirty boy: ...Okay, fine.

He reluctantly reached into his pocket, taking out what was in it, before he curtly placed them in both my hands, which were outstretched.

Darius: Alright, that’s enough. Care to leave now?

Kate: Eh?

Darius: Isn’t it great, miss fairytale keeper? You got your things back, safe and sound.

Kate: I-I mean, yes, it is great, but also...

Slightly dirty boy: ...

As though currently assessing the situation, the boy stepped back before dashing off as fast as he could.

Kate: Ah, wait...!

Darius: What is it? Did the boy not give everything back?

Kate: It’s just I don’t think it would do him any good if we should just let him go like that.

K: He is already used to stealing, so he may end up doing so again. Especially if it’s to survive.

Darius blinked at my words,

before he let out a sigh.

Darius: A reward for the good child, and a punishment for the bad one... so you say, but is there really anything we can do for him?

Kate: ...Huh?

Darius: It’s hardly as though there’s only one or two children in the world in a similar situation as him.

D: See, even William is going through so much trouble to find all the children who may have relations to a crime syndicate.

D: ——That’s why I was thinking we may as well turn this into a world where no such children exist.

D: Don’t you think such a world is not just a dream, with the Cursed ones’ abilities?

The smile on his face seemed to sparkle as he made such a statement as though he were singing it praises.

(Could it be Darius wishes for a world... where there’s no poverty or hunger?)

(But, for some reason...)

It stirred a familiar sense of unease in me.

Darius was a friendly person who wore a bright smile, and he almost had a childlike air about him.

But in the most unexpected times, the space that fell between us seemed to widen so much, I could hardly jump over it.

It felt like, even if we were looking at the same thing, his perspective and thoughts would come from such a different place and direction.

Almost as though——I had come into contact with a different ‘living being’ altogether.

Darius: Ah, speaking of, what are those in your hand?

Kate: Hm?

Darius’ sweet voice pulled me out of my own thoughts.

Darius: Just what did he steal from you, I wonder?

He was looking down at what was in my hand, his smile filled with excitement and interest.

Kate: Oh——here, this is for you, Darius.

I took out a handmade white leopard plush from the things.

Kate: The moment I met eyes with this plushie at the wagon, I thought, ‘I really want to give this to Darius!’ to myself, so.

Darius stared intently at the white leopard plushie, which laid on the palm of his hand.

Darius: .........

Kate: Doesn’t it look a bit like you, Darius? With its white coat and those pretty, honey-colored eyes. It even has a similar shape.

K: So, maybe that’s why I really wanted to gift you this.

(But, I feel like there’s something more as well... I feel as though I could reach a deeper place...)

The space that fell between us seemed to widen so much, I could hardly jump over it——

I realized that such was an unconscious feeling, and I may have also felt that I would like to jump over to the other side.

Kate: And besides, isn’t it adorable? See, it looks pretty lethargic.

Darius: .........

D: ...hehe, you have quite a sense... pfft, hehe.

(Hm? For some reason I feel like I’m being laughed at for something different...)

Darius: ——Miss fairytale keeper...

D: Could it be you wanted to make me smile?

Kate: ...Ah.

I felt taken aback when he asked me so straightforwardly.

(But, he is probably onto something.)

Perhaps my own feelings were more simple than I had thought.

Kate: Well, yes, if I could make you smile, that would make me happy as well.

Darius: Really now? If a smile is enough to make you happy, I’d be more than happy to give you however many you’d like, miss fairytale keeper.

D: ——See, like this.

Darius’ head slightly tilted, he gave me an innocent smile.

His platinum blond hair, hardly fitting in with the surrounding back street, swayed,

as it glistened in the few rays of sunlight that filtered through.

The specks of light also seemed to reflect in those honey-colored eyes, leaving me enraptured, unable to look away.

And this very expression before me was, out of all the smiles I had seen on him the entire day today, the most perfect of them all... almost too much so to be true.

(Oh, I see, this must also have been one of the reasons why I had felt a sense of unease.)

(Because Darius had never been smiling from the bottom of his heart.)

Kate: Darius, I... I want to see you smile, from your heart.

Darius: Oh my, could it be you thought my smile was all a fabrication?

Kate: That is, um...

Darius: The fact you couldn’t answer back means I hit the mark, right? How mean, though, thinking other’s smiles are fabricated and all.

D: But, well, if that’s the case...

Kate: Ah—

No sooner did Darius take my hand than he ran back from where we came.

His coat fluttered behind him, his platinum blond locks that resembled a cat’s fur bounced with his steps, and I felt myself wrapped in his relaxing scent.

The hustle and bustle and zeal of the street fair rapidly approached.

Darius: ...then, miss fairytale keeper, see if you can bring a ‘true’ smile out of me, yes?

to be continued…

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev epilogue →

NOTES:

[1] He is probably referring to something like leaving a fake trail. Like, if you were going to leave a trail anyway, you could have used it to divert us rather than lead us, kind of implication. (I could be wrong though.)

full masterlist 🌹🪽

#ikemen villains #ikevil #イケメンヴィラン #ikevil darius #ikevil darius vogel #darius vogel #ikemen villains darius #cybird ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #otome game #otome #ikevil translation #ikevil translations

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shooting-love-arrows · 11 months

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How would yandere! Slavic groom react to reader being a hunter?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐂! 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 reacts to…a hunter! reader.

SYNOPSIS: Just when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐜! 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 thought he knew everything about the love of his life, it turns out that it isn't case at all. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐜! 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 x [Hunter!] Reader (gender not implied/mentioned) Tw. hunting, description of hunting but nothing drastic, cussing, delusional thinking, overprotective behavior.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

POW!

Yandere! Slavic! Groom flinched, when a gunshot rang from behind him. His eyes widened and a finger placed on a trigger, he watched in utter disbelief as the animal hit the ground with a dull thug. It was a matter of seconds, a moment of hesitation on his side, that has cost him a good catch. It took a moment for this revelation to fully sink in. Someone just stole his quarry right before his eyes!

Yandere! Slavic! Groom clenched his teeth and snarled. Since all his primal instincts were active in that moment, his logical thinking was put aside. Instead, he let his anger take control. High on adrenaline, he swiftly lowered his gun and snapped his head in the direction from where the shot must have come from. Thick bushes blocked him from seeing the delinquent that was hiding in them and he only saw the end of a barrel peeking from it, metal glinting in the late autumn sun.

“What the hell were you thinking, you bastard?!” He didn’t hesitate to insult the other hunter. The hold on his gun tightened, when he saw the barrel disappearing and heard bushes rustling. Oh, how he just couldn’t wait to punch this fuc –

“I shoot it first so shut up.”

Words died in his throat when you emerged from the bushes instead. Eyes nearly bulged out of his skull when he saw your adorable self clad in a colorful cloak, all covered in leaves, your braided hair messy, sweat could be seen gleaming from your forehead and a big stain of dirt on all of your front from where you were laying on the ground. Despite all of this, in his eyes you looked devine, like an angel but – but…

“W-what are you doing here?” Yandere! Slavic! Groom stuttered, quickly fumbling with the safety of his gun. He felt his face and the tip of his ears heating up until it felt like it was burning. He just embarrassed himself in front of you and…! Not to mention…

Throat dried up when he realized what he had called you.

“Hm, unfortunately my father fell sick. So my mother sent me to at least try gathering some meat for the winter.” You scratch your head, remembering how your mother thrusted your fathers trusty gun in your arms and shoving you out of the house in the directions of the woods.

“O-oh…”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“I am so sorry for insulting you–!” Yandere! Slavic! Groom lowered his eyes until he was looking at his boots and being brave enough to only shyly peek up at you from time to time. His shoulders were still tense and he couldn’t help but to bite his bottom lip, drawing some blood in the process. He felt ashamed and embarrassed for acting brash towards you – love of his life.

Would that make him a lesser candidate for your hand? Do you think now he'll be a bad husband? Will you find out what he did towards those other lads who proclaimed to be your future husband's? And worse of all: you’ll not want him to be your husband at all!

“Let’s just move past it.” You cut him off and strapped your fathers gun on your back again. “You didn’t know it was me in the first place.”

With that, you started making your way towards your quarry. Your mother will be proud of you and your father might even give you a set of beautiful beads you saw in the market last time…but most importantly, you’ll have delicious meat to feast on during winter.

And while you were stuck in your happy thoughts, Yandere! Slavic! Groom breathed out in relief after hearing your sweet words. They were like honey soothing his bruised ego, soured mood and reasonable fears. For now, he decided to push back those nasty feelings and focus on the current.

Now that he was made aware that you can hunt, perhaps even hunted in the past, he couldn’t help but feel even more attracted towards you. Yandere! Slavic! Groom even found your hunting skills arousing. You were just so enticing, he began to believe you might be doing it on purpose just to show your interest in him (not like you have to).

A chain of poisonous thoughts began to fill his mind, once again, feeding him imagines of the future you’ll share together.

Yandere! Slavic! Groom wouldn’t mind taking you to some of the hunting trips. But only after he'll be sure nothing…unexpectedly would take place. Like you wondering somewhere off where he couldn't find you or worse, you getting hurt (he shudders just thinking about it!). And definitely not as a hunter! No, no, no! You're to be his companion, who he can show off his hunting skills and protect.

It’ll be so exhilarating for sure! Both of you, in the wild, letting your primitive instincts take control. Maybe you could do more than hunting…?

Before his mind completely went into the gutter, he made a mental note that he’ll need to hide guns from you once he’ll officially become your husband and start to live together. He doesn’t want you to use it when unnecessary or better yet at all. Why would you need to? You'll have him! He can hunt you whatever you want! Better yet, he’ll do it without you asking.

You might think you are a hunter now but in the end, you’re still his prey.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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I headcanon that Bruce, specifically Battinson, cries real easily.

Not only when he's sad; It's actually then when he doesn't cry at all. He cries when he's angry, when he's overstimulated, when he's dissapointed, when scolded and feels like he just let someone down.

Everyone in his life, friends, enemies, and something grey, know this about him. It never bleeds into the Batman, thought.

But it's a well known, universal fact, that every Gothamite knows as divine truth: Bruce Wayne is a crybaby.

Naturally, He cries when happy and proud, too.

Dick learns that when he's 10, and brings back a huge canvas he borrowed (stole) from art class.

The assignment was to illustrate what made them happy. He picked Bruce.

Imagine his surprise when his foster father bursts into tears, gives him a big wet kiss on the cheek, and dashes to his cave, " DON'T LOOK AT ME!"

"...Does he do that a lot?"

Alfred, who didn't even bat an eye, " Only all the time."

Jason learns that when he's 12, holding his favorite copy of Pride and Prejudice, which is DOG EARED. This is a hardback cover, damn it!

" B! How could you! Don't you know better? Are you gonna paint over the Mona Lisa, too?!Seriously,--"

Abruptly, he stops at the first drops of water. Bruce is avoiding his eyes, broad shoulders slouched down, hands fidgeting by his sides. Expression pinched and pained. "...Forgive me."

"Okay," Why does HIS voice sound wrecked and brittle? " I'm gonna go in the time-out corner. And I won't eat any sweets tonight."

" But you love sweets... "

"No sweets! Don't make me. I'll go to sleep with no TV either."

But what really gets to people? Bruce cries when he's embarassed.

"I gotta say, B, " Clark humming, seemingly ignorant to a rather concerning wound. A faint kryptonite nausea still persists, but nothing he can't avoid. " You really saved my behind out there. Good job."

It's obvious Bruce has a doctor's hands; His hands glide stitches confidently, without nervousness, without pause. Healing. That's what Bruce was, at his core.

Still, his heart beats wildly. "...I'm glad you're okay."

Clark, for one, Is delighted. "Are those emotions? Positive ones? Are we having a moment?"

" I did an adequate job. It was nothing special."

" Oh, that's bullshit. Come on, you were amazing! Did you see the guy's face when you blocked the bullet with your batarang? Breathtaking."

"Superman. Enough."

" No, -- listen. 20 guys get their hands on kryptonite and knock me out in 10 minutes. You had them beat in FIVE. Bruce, you were wonderful, --"

He stops immediately when a velvet voice cracks, " Clark,"

He worries that maybe he pushed too much. Forced his way instead of being welcomed. An apology is hot and ready on his lips.

But.

But that cowl only hides so much. That soft, dusty red flushes down to Bruce's chest. Pink skin glows red, shiny with tears, and skilled hands shake.

Clark's heart roars. He's so, so fond of this man.

" Oh, Bruce. Oh, baby."

He can't stop smiling as he listens to Bruce whining in his neck.

#YOUR HONOR. HE IS SO. MEOW MEOW #bruce wayne #battinson #dick grayson #jason todd #batdad #dc #dcu #clark kent #superbat #text #text post #batman #writing #writing prompt #btw only bc some ppl asked me if they could use some of my ideas -- everything is open!! id love to be tagged :D

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incorrectbatfam · 2 years

Note

dickie and jason headcanons pretty please

Everyone thinks Tim and Damian are a nightmare to have in a room together, but it's actually Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian still need to work through a thing or two and subconsciously pull their punches because of that, but Dick and Jason have no such thing. They've been siblings the longest and at this point it's an undisputed fact that they love each other, so there's zero limit to them being absolute menaces

They've been in a Toy Blast standoff since last year. Dick keeps speedrunning the levels and Jason keeps deleting the app from Dick's phone until he catches up

The bathroom switch in the Bludhaven apartment is outside the bathroom. Barbara kept telling Dick to get it changed and he kept procrastinating, so when Jason broke in and turned the lights off in the middle of Dick's shower, all Babs said from the other room was "Told you so"

Jason: "Alfred, tell Dick to quit breathing over my shoulder"

Dick: "Tell Jason to quit blocking the screen with his big helmet"

Alfred: "Sort it out yourselves, this is not in my job description"

Dick wrestled Jason for an Oreo but also gave him the comfier sleeping bag in the span of five minutes while they were on a stakeout

Jason is absolutely the sibling that chases Dick around the house with a knife for fun when Bruce and Alfred aren't around

Dick: "Get out of my room"

Jason, lurking outside the windowsill: "I'm not in your room"

Dick's outfits aren't truly considered nice until they pass the Jason Test, which is getting a "meh" instead of "you look like you were drawn by a fourth grader"

To brag that he got the last slice of pizza, Jason slapped it across Dick's face

The most accurate ruler in the world is the one they use to split the last candy bar (but Dick secretly lets Jason have an extra millimeter)

And the most accurate measuring cup is the one they divide the last of the apple juice with (though Jason generously gives Dick a few drops more)

The tension is palpable—even the Subway guy cutting their sandwich can feel it

Alfred sends them out to do yard work and they start sword-fighting with increasingly bigger sticks until Dick grabs a rake and Jason whips out the All-Blades

Jason: "I was here first!"

Dick: "I was born first!"

Jason: "I was adopted first!"

Dick has two Instagram accounts—Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Jason has three—Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the verified Nightwing

When the Cave is colder than usual, Jason brings Dick his favorite peppermint hot chocolate but always takes the first sip

Together they stole the bat-plane, flew to Lebanon for food, received a hefty fine after nearly colliding with a fighter jet, got a huge scratch on the side, paid someone under the table to fix it, and put it back where they found it in the span of Bruce debriefing the Justice League

Dick will go through Jason's leftovers, pick out what he likes, and leave the rest. Later he'll hear Jason walk out of the kitchen shouting "Who the FUCK took the shrimp out of my shrimp fried rice?!"

When they were kids Jason's bedtime was half an hour later than Dick's. Dick still has beef with Bruce about that

Dick is Player 1. Jason is Player 6 because the first time they played he grabbed a random controller from a box of dozen

Jason: "Help me bury this body"

Dick: "Sure"

Jason: "Also I need to delete all record of this guy's existence"

Dick: "Will do"

Jason: "And can you get me a drink?"

Dick: "Get it yourself"

When he first arrived, Jason was resistant to the idea of having an older sibling until he realized he has Younger Brother Privilege

Dick hides the remote with a sword swallowing trick and Jason hates it

They use texts for personal conversations, WhatsApp for vigilante business, and Snapchat for unhinged memery. It's like talking to 3 separate people

They also have their own text abbrevation: DTB (Don't tell Bruce)

They don't apologize, they just sulk in their rooms for a couple hours until Alfred calls them down for dinner and they forget all about it

Goon: "Who's that blue fella? Youse was fightin' real loud"

Jason: "Nightwing. He just pisses me off sometimes"

Goon: "I can take care of him"

Jason, lighting a cigarette: "Go ahead, I'll be here when you get your ass handed to you"

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bettyfrommars · 8 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees. It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment. There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place. The head maintenance guy. This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from. “Both him and his nephew Eddie. Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light. From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.

“Ready?” She smiled back at you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them.

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face. She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle. You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night.

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them. A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part. Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches. An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something. Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind. You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare. When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down. “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her.

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment. “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music. Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door.

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen. You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach. You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall. “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink. He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene. A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice. “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors. Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction. Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him. It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes. On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation. He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there. “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest. But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands.

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers. Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action. “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser. Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand. It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.

Eddie could read Lance like a book. A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have. Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back.

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side.

You were not supposed to be there. What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd.

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.

The surfer boy went down

Hard.

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one. You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can. He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty. He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry. “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer. You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum. Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest. He put a hand on the back of your head. “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious. Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed.

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five. “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked. “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one,

but he was gone.

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove. He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins. There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow. The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut. His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks.

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing. He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you.

There was no one there.

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

-------

taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #Dirty Metal Summer #Eddie Munson fic #dirty dancing au #eddie munson x reader

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metalotaku-da · 9 days

Text

danny phantom x dc prompt ideas: weather wizard addition.

this comes to you thanks to my big story pieces comment section. i think if the phandom knew more of this characters background and i thought it was more commonly known. it would have more of a field day. same with gotham academy >.> but that is for another post.

alright weather wizard, is a flash villain and a member of the rogues.

mark mardon. is a thief and criminal who escapes from prison and fleas to his brothers house. where he believes he found his brother dead and his weather experiments. including the weather wand which he takes and starts his alias crime as weather wizard. it is hinted at in the comics he actually killed his brother and stole his work. it is believed he had a confrontation with his brother over his prison break, the argument and heightened emotions triggered mark's meta gene and he accidently killed his brother when his powers manifested. and he blocked out that memory. and it is also why he can't use his weather powers without the wand. as a mental block. because he does have powers without the wand.

later on he finds out he has a son with a cop he had relations with. it is known josh is his son because he has weather powers. mark in a fit of rage and jealousy over the his son's powers kidnaps him, with plans to DISSECT AND EXPERIMENT ON HIM TO FIND OUT HOW HIS POWERS WORK SO HE CAN GET THEM. he has a break down though over it before he can go through with it. and wishes his son had someone besides him as a father, because he deserves someone better.

other facts of note: josh was thought to be wally's kid till he got his powers. lady cop has batman's taste. her name is julie.

the rogues have strict rules against hurting kids.

weather wizard killed impulse breaking this rule. though he was tricked.

so yes phandom. here are some options i've brain stormed. please add more ideas for others to knaw on.

1: danny has escaped the fentons/and or giw. flees to central city and weather wizard finds this vivisected terrified kid. and man does it hit his guilt and crazy. this could have been his son. he was going to do this to his child. and it's his redemption/penance to protect this child to make up for his sins. could have a mental break and think he actually did this danny and danny is his son josh too. so many ways to go.

2: other rogues find him, after hearing about ww kidnapping his son and think danny is his son who escaped from his injuries and go on revenge spree for this kid in mistaken idenity. which has funny and dark ways it can go.

3: danny meets ww or his son. and hears how ww couldn't go through with it. maybe from young justice. impulse or members of the league, other rogues dealers choice. danny just dieing a little on the inside like, how come your parent could stop himself with love when he never met you, but my parents raised me and still didn't love me enough not to. the angst protentional here is so high.

4: jazz could work at the facility treating mark. her point of view from treating a person who is so much like her parents but who showed their love for their child in the end. when hers couldn't move past their goals and see their child they claimed to love. could add in she's got a de-aged danny/dannies because of it. to see what it could have been if her parents had been better. stronger. she could get feelings. (totally thinking on par with harley/joker kind of but not that dark.) where mark actually like her and cares for her. could be one-sided. and the giw find them mark breaks out cause she and or kids are in danger and saves them.

5:mix and match the above.

please add more

#dcxdp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #fanfic #dpxdc #the rogues #flash rogues #weather wizard #jazz fenton x mark mardon #danny phantom #writing prompt #dc comics

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emmett6 · 1 month

Text

i am being attacked by antis.

this is emmett. emmettnet, emmettverse, emmettland, emmettundead, emmettlab. whichever blog you knew me from.

i am a whump creator. i've been in the whump community for a few years now. and now, i am unable to share my work with the community on here because people are mass reporting me for being a proshipper, and Tumblr keeps deleting my blogs as a result.

(if that isn't the reason why, i would be more than happy to get the explanation from @staff that i've been asking for.)

now, that is speculation on my part based on the timing of each termination (it's after i put my pinned post in the whump tags).

but here are the facts:

months ago, i became comfortable enough to share proshipping content. seeing as how every other artist would link their nsfw work on here, i thought it was acceptable for me to do the same so long as the preview image did not violate any rules.

an anon asked if i was a proshipper, and i said i didn't ascribe to that label*, but i agreed with the philosophy.

*i don't have any choice BUT to use it now because my posts get removed for describing what the content is

note that this anon asked multiple people in the whump community if they were proshippers. it was the same person each time, same copy-and-pasted responses.

i kept posting my proshipping content, all with links and extensive content warnings.

i started getting anon hate.

my account was terminated. after further reflection and rereading the terms of service AGAIN, i figured maybe links are not allowed and so i switched to DM only.

this time, the anon hate was consistent. every week was something new. every day felt like bracing myself to open my inbox. i kept anon on, since i have so many people who feel uncomfortable sending asks off anon and didn't want to take away their safe space.

months pass. i go on hiatus for all of July. i find out someone stole my old nsfw art and reposted their edited versions of it to rule34, a site that i never wanted my work to be on. this person waited until the exact starting day of my hiatus to do this.

i come back to more anon hate in my inbox.

suddenly, out of nowhere, my account is terminated again.

i make a new blog. more anon hate. another termination.

lather, rinse, repeat.

i stopped doing DM only stuff. i figured, if i just link my other platforms and only post safe things on Tumblr, there's nothing in the rules against that. everyone has links to their social media.

i still get terminated. and again, i keep getting terminated after i post my pinned post in the whump tags. which -- speculation again -- leads me and others to think that these antis are stalking the whump tags, waiting for me to show up so they can mass report me and get me terminated.

i have NO idea what they would report, aside from claiming i'm trying to "dodge being blocked". which, i'm not. in fact, i say every single time i come back that i WANT people to block me if they need to.

but regardless, it keeps happening.

i'm losing a place i considered home.

i'm being forced out of a community on here i love so dearly.

and you want to know something funny? for some strange reason, i'm unable to block my anons. yup. an 'error' message comes up. and i'm apparently unable to report them too -- like reporting the one who called me a 'tumblr tranny' and said i would 'always be a woman' for hate speech. oops, sorry. error message.

by now, i've been called evil. told to listen to my intrusive thoughts. told that i should be on a watch list. told that it's disgusting that someone's mutuals still interact with me. told that i have no place in the whump community.

i know that's not true.

i'm so sick and tired of being treated like this. i'm tired of being dehumanized. and i'm disgusted with this behavior.

at this point, i'm just screaming as many times as i can. i'll keep losing blogs, because i know my attackers will read this and just keep on reporting me. what do they have to lose? nothing. they don't have enough of a conscience to care. and why should they? clearly, i'm a monster. i'm a piece of shit. i don't deserve basic respect, and i apparently don't deserve to keep my 'platform'. to stay in my community and to keep my livelihood.

my discord is emmettnet. send me a DM if you don't want to lose me, because there is no point in following me repeatedly just for every blog to be terminated.

if you want to reblog this to spread the word and show your support, i would be eternally grateful. but i understand if you choose not to; i don't want anyone to be subjected to what i'm going through.

thank you for reading.

#whumplr #whump #whump community #proshipping #proshipper #proship

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standfucker · 1 year

Text

Finding Out You’re Stronger Than Them - Logia Edition (Smoker + Ace)

Feeling very stuck with my WIPS lately, so I decided to try my hand at a bullet-point style drabble. Ace’s and Smoker’s went fine, but Crocodile’s and Kuzan’s immediately grew into something too big for a bullet point list and will be posted separately, if I can get them to a point I’m happy with. Have these two for now.

CW: Just a little bit of violence

Ao3 Link

Smoker

You’ve been rising quickly through the ranks. Smoker’s heard that you’re strong, but by the time you get assigned to him, he has yet to see it for himself.

You’ve followed all of his orders thus far, and past reports on your behavior are generally positive, so when you block him from chasing a pirate one day, he’s taken by surprise.

“This one’s innocent. I saw it for myself. He’s trying to support the village.” You get into stance, eyes blazing with defiance, fully ready to take on your captain.

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Smoker says. “He’s still a pirate.”

“He only stole from nobles. People who wouldn’t miss the wealth. It makes every difference.”

“Get out of the way.”

“No.”

He turns into smoke to go around you, but you grab at where his ankle would be, your haki forcing his body back into shape, and swing him into the ground with such force that stars dot his vision as the wind is knocked out of him.

No one told him you could use armament haki.

“I’m stronger than you. Don’t get a big head because you’re my superior. I’ll surpass you soon.”

“I could have you court-martialed for this,” he gasps.

“Then do it. See if I care. That person was innocent–I know I did the right thing. I don’t give a shit about your opinion,” you pause, then add, “Captain.”

You crouch next to him as he struggles to sit up, still dizzy from the brutal impact. Picking up his cigars that have fallen, you dust them off before sticking one back in his mouth and putting the other in yours. You take an experimental puff, wrinkle your nose at the taste, and deftly twirl the cigar between your fingers. He finds himself staring as you exhale, smoke curling around your profile.

“I requested to be transferred to your unit because Tashigi told me you were different from the others,” you say, and pop the second cigar into his mouth as well. “So don’t disappoint me, Captain.”

The blush on his face is from indignation, or that’s what he tells himself. It’s the audacity. You have some nerve to talk to him that way. To lay your hands on a superior, to obstruct the law.

And yet. He shouldn’t, but a part of him–a big part of him–can’t help but admire your conviction. Enough so that he doesn’t report your insubordination.

It’s always refreshing to find a soldier who thinks for themselves, but it’s also dangerous if you cross the wrong superiors. (God forbid you talk back to someone like Akainu, which Smoker knows you would do without hesitation.)

Smoker will have to keep an eye on you, to make sure you don’t get into trouble you can’t get out of…

Ace

One day, Ace realizes that in all the months since he’s officially joined the crew, he’s never seen you fight, not even to spar.

When he asks Marco about it, he says, “Oh, that’s because of the collateral damage, yoi.” Ace thinks Marco is joking and laughs. Marco does not.

But can you blame Ace? You’re one of the gentlest pirates in the fleet. You’re the kind of person who stops crewmates from squishing bugs, and who’s so stricken by the dead dogs at the end of your novels that you cry for days afterward (getting to hold you when you seek him out for comfort rules, but why you keep reading those, he does not know.)

After a battle with an enemy crew, one in which you don’t participate, Ace asks some crewmates why you abstained.

“Same reason Pops doesn’t join the small fights,” Haruta says. “Too messy, you know?”

“Wait, just how strong is Y/n?” Ace says, now realizing Marco was being serious earlier.

“Don’t worry about it, Ace,” you say behind him, making him jump. “Just know I’m stronger than you.”

That stings his pride, enough so that he challenges you to a friendly match while crewmates exchange glances.

“Sure, after you’ve rested from this fight. I’d hate to have a handicap.”

“I’m not tired! I can take you right here, right now.”

“Right now?” At Ace’s nod, you shrug. “Well, okay then. Here I go!”

You vanish.

He can’t sense you anywhere. By the time he figures out you’re behind him, it’s too late. One of your hands wraps around the back of his neck, the other on the hem of his pants. When he can’t escape by turning into flames, he knows you’re using haki.

You proceed to slam him face-first into the deck so hard he breaks straight through it, stuck upside down in the wood. The crewmates on the floor below blink up at him.

“You challenged Y/n, didn’t you,” one of them says.

Once his head stops swimming, Ace pulls himself out. His nose is broken and bleeding and he’s covered in scratches and splinters, but he’s looking at you with a newfound sense of awe.

“Logia types,” you shake your head, lip curling, “always so full of themselves.” Then you look stricken. “Oh, I hurt Moby again... Pops will scold me…”

And, look.

Ace knows what he likes. He’s not ashamed to say he found the whole thing extremely hot, but he has the decency to keep it to himself. (Literally the entire crew could tell, but no one tells Ace that either.)

He can’t stop thinking about the fight (if it could even be called that.) He stays awake at night, picturing the way your mouth moved when you said ‘Logia types,’ the little smirk afterward. He had always liked you, but now there’s a newfound aspect to his attraction, and he’s down bad.

Ace wants to know even more about you after that, asking you about your history and how you learned to fight. Luckily, you don’t mind the attention, and your humoring him feeds into his ego until he’s practically following you around in his free time. The rest of the crew takes notice, teasing him about being your shadow–but you never complain, so why should he care?

You've been spending lots of time together since then. He keeps fantasizing about saying “my partner can kick your ass” to people, but he hasn’t actually asked you out yet. It’s unlike him to be so gun-shy, yet every time he works up the nerve to ask, he only gets as far as “Hey, Y/n?” before your sparkly-eyed, saccharine “Yes, Ace?” crumbles his confidence to dust. But he’s Fire-Fist Ace, damn it! He faced Pops alone to save his crew, so why is this so difficult?

If he asks the other Division Commanders for help, expect a Looney Tunes style sequence of each one suggesting a courting method and it failing spectacularly and going up in literal flames, until he finally gets so frustrated with the whole thing he ends up just shouting his confession.

Bonus:

“There, there,” Ace says, patting your back while you cling to him and sob into his shoulder. “It’s just a stupid book.”

That was the wrong thing to say. With your emotions already running high, your misery shifts to rage in an instant.

“YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND THE BOND BETWEEN A KID AND THEIR DOG BECAUSE YOU ATE EVERY ANIMAL YOU ENCOUNTERED GROWING UP!!” you wail, then hiccup, sob, and bury your face into his chest.

Ace wisely decides not to point out the food scarcity of his home island. There are better times, and at least you’re holding him tight...

#one piece imagines #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #smoker x reader #smoker one piece #portgas d ace #one piece x reader #zen writes

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a-fandom-reimagined · 10 months

Text

< PREVIOUS PART

"Diana, you have exhausted valuable resources and the skills of our healers for one woman. To what end? She will die anyway. Maybe not today or tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now or ten but she will die. You're just delaying the inevitable."

Diana had few moments in her life where she could truthfully say she was angry with her mother. But in that moment she almost hated her. The Amazons were supposed to be messengers of peace and truth and justice. What happened to her mother while she was away? What happened to the fearsome woman who raised and taught her to stand for what was right? This wasn't the first time they'd had this argument and as your life hung in the balance, Diana doubted it would be the last.

You hadn't uttered more than a few sentences since arriving on the sandy shores of Themyscira and that was two weeks ago. You'd been in and out of consciousness every since. Never awake longer than a second or two and no one could tell Diana why. The healers had done all they could. The rest was up to you.

Diana gritted her teeth and rose from your bedside. "You and I are not having this conversation again, mama. Y/N is staying here until she wakes up. The healers will attend her for as long as she requires their attention and that is final. You gave me your word and you will stand by it."

"Perhaps I gave it too hastily."

Fire and hatred burned in Diana's eyes but the Queen of the Amazons did not--would not--falter. "I know you've formed something of an…attachment…to this girl--"

Diana laughed, tearfully. Attachment. What a paltry word to describe what she felt for you. This all-consuming yearning and devotion that kept her up nights and drove her to kneel at your bedside for hours with no regard to her own hunger and comfort. "Attachment," Diana repeated, laughing again.

"She is not like us, my daughter" the queen continued. "She is not like you--"

"She doesn't have to be! I don't need her to be like me. I don't need her to do anything but live, mama!"

"I do not mean to be cruel but if this is what her ailing has done to you…I don't want to know what would become of you if she perished."

Diana for the first time since coming home was inclined to agree with her mother. She opened her mouth to speak, some of her earlier anger dissipating, when a sharp breath stole away her words.

Diana whirled.

You rubbed sleep from your eyes, wincing as you struggled to get comfortable in the narrow cot on which you lay.

Diana stumbled to your bedside and fell to her knees.

You gave her a weak smile, bleary-eyed smile. Your hair was a bird's nest atop your head and yet to Diana, you'd never looked more beautiful.

You hit the ground hard not for the first time today.

"Dammit," you hissed.

Diana leaned into your line of sight with an apologetic smile. "Are you alright?"

"No I'm not alright!" you snapped. "A toddler could have blocked that kick and I just…I just," you screwed your eyes shut and breathed through the pain, the embarrassment, and frustration. "I'm not the same, D. My body…it's not the same."

She dropped to her knees and gently straddled your waist. Taking your face in her hands, she kissed your lids again and again until you opened them. "It's only been a week, my love. It could take months even years to remind your body of what your mind never forgot. Give it time."

It had been four months since you woke up in Themyscira's infirmary. Four long grueling months spent trying to remember how to walk and care for yourself. Fighting off pain and infection with strange herbs and medicinal techniques you'd never heard of and you were tired. So, so tired of being weak and fragile on an island surrounded by women who were the very definition of everything you used to be.

"But I don't want it to take months or years!" tears of frustration filled your eyes.

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice." Diana carefully rolled off of you and into the grass.

"Someone did this to me, Diana. I could have died."

"I know… And when you are well my love, we will find them and you will have your justice. But whether you like it or not it will take time. And if you will have me, I will be here with you. For every step of the way. And every step after that."

REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | GIF?

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