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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

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frankenkyle19 · 4 months

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Glitter On The Floor After The Party

description/warnings: Peter x reader at a New Year’s Eve party, Peter admits that he’s never had a New Year’s kiss and against better judgement, reader decides to give him one. Smut, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), teasing, just a bunch of tenderness and it’s so cute okay thanks bye

Based off of the amazing request I got from our lord and savior @silverzoomies I hope you enjoy it and I hope it lives up to your expectations!!

word count: 4.6k

Loving you,

Isn’t the right thing to do

How Can I

Ever change things that I feel?

If I could

Baby, I’d give you my world

The soft background music of Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” played amongst the chatter and laughs of conversation across the room. You stood leaning against the wall, sipping on a solo cup of lemonade as you did one of your favorite things. People watching.

You didn’t like to be in the middle of a conversation, but listening to it from the outside was something you did enjoy. You didn’t try to snoop, if someone was having a conversation they obviously intended to keep hush hush, you moved on to listen to a louder, carefree conversation instead.

What day was it again? Why were you at a party? Oh right, it was New Year’s eve and Charles had decided to host a party at the school for the mutants and others who resided there. As a way to celebrate the progress that had been made in the last year and to hope for a good year to come.

You never really felt like you fit in with the other mutants. Sure you had a power, and if that’s what people thought deemed you a mutant, then yes, you were one. You wouldn’t even consider it a power, it was more of a curse. A turn off to just about all men who found out about it one way or the other, despite it not affecting them in any way. They just saw you as different and decided you weren’t worth the time of day. Too much work. Whatever.

Speaking of time, that had everything to do with your power. You were able to slow down time, practically freeze something in the moment.Unlike a certain silver speedster who was able to move at the speed of light, you were only able to freeze a moment for a certain amount of time, and it took a lot of focus. It was a dumb power, you always thought so, and you weren’t sure it would ever even be useful to the x-men, despite protests from Charles that everyone is important in their own way. Sounded like a load of bull shit.

Figures that one of your only friends was the silver haired speedster himself. Your powers were similar but yet so different, and sometimes it led to arguments between the two of you. You always managed to get over it though.

Peter Maximoff was one of the first friends you’d made when you joined. Around your age, a cocky super speedy mutant definitely caught your eye.

The two of you had been friends for a few months now and had gotten closer quicker than you imagined. Peter and you staying up late to have secret movie marathons, with him always insisting you rewatch Star Wars despite your strong dislike for rewatching movies when you could watch new ones. You did it anyway, being with Peter suddenly made those movies bearable, as if he possessed some other kind of power than his super speed. The power to make any situation a little more bearable.

You hadn’t seen Peter yet tonight, strangely, and wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be attending. He had no reason not to but as you wracked your brain for an answer, you couldn’t come up with one. Odd. Maybe he was with his family? His mother and little sister? Perhaps he enjoyed spending time with them more. Psssh of course he did, that was his family that he loved, so why suddenly did you feel so jealous.

Finishing the last of your lemonade you made your way back over to the drinks table to pour yourself something stronger. Maybe a little rum and coke would solve all your problems. Hell, maybe you’d even be able to chill out enough to find someone to hook up with. Lord knows you needed it. You’d been unusually uptight lately and the only thing you could think of was the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a milenia.

It wasn’t like you to do the dirty with some person who you didn’t even know, but if the night led up to that, you’d have no qualms as long as said person knew where the clit was and how to make you feel good. Was that too much to ask for?

You were knocked out of your thoughts when a harsh breeze whipped by you, followed by the slight color of silver.

Peter… So he was here.

A few seconds later and your cup was snatched from your hands and in the hands of someone else who sipped from it. When he put the cup down you saw his familiar deep brown eyes and silver hair. You would be annoyed at the fact that he’d stolen your drink if it wasn’t for the fact that you were actually quite happy he’d finally showed up.

For being a speedster, he sure was late to a lot of things. Odd, wasn’t it?

“Miss me?” He asked, snatching a cookie from the table and biting into it, a few crumbs cascading down onto his Pink Floyd shirt. He obviously didn’t care as he took another bite and the same thing happened. His silver eyebrows were raised, waiting on an answer from you.

What had he asked again? Oh right, if you missed him…

“I thought you weren’t coming,” You said, avoiding his question. Had you missed him? You weren’t really sure the answer to his question. It was something you’d have to ponder on for a while.

“Where else would I be on New Year’s Eve?” He asked, finishing off his cookie and scanning the table no doubt for what he’d eat next.

“I don’t know, maybe your mom’s place?” You shrugged. To be honest you didn’t know, you were just guessing.

“Nope, her and my lil’ sis are at a friend's house celebrating I think. I wasn’t invited. No one wants a freak at their new years party, right?” He chuckled, but you knew inside he didn’t find it very funny.

“Maybe they didn’t want you stealing anything-” You teased, trying to lighten the mood, and it seemed to work. Peter laughed once more, real this time as he shook his head.

“Yeah that’s probably it, never thought of that. Yer a genious” He said, and you noticed another cookie in his hand, already half eaten.

You took this chance to get a good look at the man in front of you. The silver haired mutant of which you harbored a very secret obsession. How could you not? Anyone who didn’t was either lying or blind. He was perfect in so many ways. From the way his silver hair sometimes fell into his face, to the way his brown eyes sparkled whenever he saw you.

As much as you’d love for something to happen between the two of you, the risk was just too high. You couldn’t in good intention do anything and risk your friendship with the speedster. It was too risky.

Still, sometimes the way he looked at you had you wondering how he felt. Where his feelings lay. Was there something more or were you reading too far into it all? Probably the latter…

You glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes till midnight. Thirty minutes till the new year. It felt so close but seemed to be an eternity away. You wondered what this new year would bring you. What you’d accomplish within the x-men. Maybe you’d find a more useful way to use your powers. One could only hope.

While you were zoned out on the clock Peter had stuffed multiple things into his mouth and now when you turned back to him you saw the corners of his lips were covered in white cream. Jesus…

You raised a brow, shaking your head as you brought your thumb up to wipe the corners of his mouth before wiping said thumb on the sleeve of his silver jacket, much to his dismay.

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. It felt as if the rest of the world had slowed around the two of you but you knew for certain you weren’t using your powers right now. It was just the effect Peter had on you. Damn it was strong.

Peter met your eyes before looking away and if you weren’t so distracted by the way his hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, you’d have seen the way his cheeks darkened and the way he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, clearing his throat.

The odd wave of feeling faded between the two of you and it went back to normal. You chatted and laughed over drinks until the both of you were tipsy, you much more so than Peter considering his metabolism, and by then it was only two minutes until midnight.

The rest of the party had party poppers and noise makers in their hands, read for the clock to turn to 12:00, but you and Peter were still talking to each other, too caught up in conversation to get with the flow of things.

“You know, I’ve never had a New Year's kiss.” Peter blurted out, setting his solo cup down to look at you. His expression was soft and you could see the way his body was burning through the alcohol he’d drank as if it was nothing.

What an odd thing to tell your friend two minutes before midnight. I mean, he wasn’t insinuating anything, surely? He was known to over share many things, including the women he’d had sex with, which keep in mind had not been many these days, and the pornos he’d rented that week. That’s just the kind of dude he was. Absolutely no shame in his game.

You let out a surprised chuckle. Quicksilver had never had a New Year’s kiss? Such an odd thing for him to have not experienced.

“That’s a shame.” Was all you said, setting down your own cup, the drink in it now long gone and deep in your system.

Peter seemed surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to reassure him and tell him you hadn’t had a New Year’s kiss either, but that hadn’t been the case.

He opened his mouth to speak once more when people began to cheer around you. 11:59. 60 seconds…

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckled, wishing he hadn’t just told you about his lack of New Year’s Eve smooching.

30 seconds. The pull to Peter was so much stronger now, as if the universe was pushing you together like opposite sides of a magnet.

25 seconds.

Why did you feel this way? Jesus Christ what was wrong with you? Surely you wouldn’t…

15….

The faint sound of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here could be heard and you were surprised that Peter hadn’t pointed it out yet, considering he was at the moment wearing a Pink Floyd shirt..

How I wish,

How I wish you were here

We’re just two lost souls

Swimming in a fishbowl

Year after year…

10…

No you couldn’t

9…

Get it together!

8…

He’s just your friend! Nothing more!

7…

But god the way he looked at you..

6…

No, Don’t give in. Don’t ruin what you already have

5…

Fuck. Screw it. Screw it all.

With a heavy breath you grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t expected it and to be fair neither had you. Time did seem to slow around the two of you now as you felt a surge of electricity crackle through the air between you as Peter finally knocked himself out of his dazed confusion and kissed you back.

4…

His lips were so soft

3..

You could find yourself getting used to this.

2..

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck

1..

A deep breath, never breaking the kiss and there it was.. Peter’s New Year’s kiss. Finally, he had what he wanted, and so did you.

Once it hit midnight the two of you didn’t break away. You pulled at each other, urging the other to come closer. You wanted to crawl into each other's skin, get as close as possible. You didn’t care who saw, who judged. The only thing that mattered in that moment between you two was the other.

You felt Peter’s Hardness against your inner thigh as you leaned against him, coaxing a moan from his puffy lips as he glanced down at you, swallowing hard. That was all the warning you got before he sped the two of you off, time slowing back down once you were both safely in his room at the school. It was just as oddly decorated as his basement-room at his moms house. Obscure posters and gaming machines like Pinball and pac-man.

Peter attacked your neck with his lips, urging you towards his unmade bed before pushing you down onto it. Rushed and messily he tore off his jacket and shirt, tossing it to the floor. He paused, glancing down at you beneath him.

“I- is this okay?” He asked, his hands creeping up under your shirt and tickling your rib cage with his long, slender fingers.

“More than okay,” you laughed out. Yea, it was way more than okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he stopped. That just wouldn’t do.

You glanced down at the ever growing bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans before your hand cupped him gently, causing him to jut into the feeling.

“Shit- really? We’re really doing this?” He asked, grinding his lower half into your hand for more friction.

You used your free hand to pull him down into another kiss full of teeth and tongue, gently massaging his length through his clothing, causing small whimpers and whines to fall from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck yeah we’re really doing this, here- just-“ you urged him off of you until the two of you had switched positions, Peter laying against the bed, you leaning over him.

“Please-“ He mewled, looking up at you with his desperate dark brown eyes, begging for the slightest touch.

Hearing him beg was music to your ears and as much as you wanted to get him to beg more, you were also impatient and wanted to tear his clothes from his body. You’d waited too long for this, you were not going to waste a second.

You palmed him over his clothing one more before undoing the zipper and button on his jeans, trying to get them down his legs.

“Peter- a little help?” You asked, brow raised as you glanced at him.

Peter, who had previously been in his own little world refocused on you, jumping at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It took him a moment to register what you were asking from him and then, the clumsy idiot he was, in a desperate attempt to kick off his pants, he ended up kicking you off the bed.

Landing with a thump you gasped, not expecting it and not being able to do anything to prevent it. You peeked up over the edge of the bed to find a mortified Peter who was frozen in place with his pants halfway off his legs as he looked at you.

“Shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry oh my god-“ He helped you back on the bed and despite your giggles and light reassurance he felt bad.

“Let me make it up to you?” His tone dropped at this and you knew he had an idea. A devilish idea. He picked you up like you were nothing and laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs as he carefully hiked up your shirt until it had revealed your bra, and inside of said bra, your bomb ass titties.

Peter would never lie, and your boobs were absolutely smoking. He was a tits expert after all, from watching hours of pornos, he’d still never seen one’s as pretty as yours, and he had an idea that it was probably because they were yours, and he was now beginning to realize his true feelings for you were much more than just ‘friends’

He practically ripped off your pants, tossing them onto the ground next to his own clothes before his hands traced your thighs.

Your panties were soaked and you were sure there was a wet spot on them that Peter would soon see. It was embarrassing how fast he had gotten you so worked up.

And just like you expected, Peter’s eyes locked onto your clothed cunt, nearly drooling as his thumb brushed over the wet spot in your panties.

The touch felt electric and so, so damn good which was ridiculous because he’d barely touched you at all.

He gently rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit, loving the way that you reacted to his touch.

“Poor thing, need quickie to make you feel good?” He chuckled devilishly and you so badly wanted to kick him. Now was not the time to tease.

“Peter! Please!” You huffed, wriggling around underneath him as he slowly and teasingly pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. He parted your thighs further to give him better access to your core.

His pupils seemed to dilate as he zoned in on your throbbing cunt and with a shaky breath he leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue.

Your hands found their way to his hair as you tugged gently on the silver strands, urging him closer.

Peter got the hint and buried his face further into your pussy, moaning at your taste and wetness. All for him.

It had always been all for him.

His pink tongue jabbed at your clit several times before his lips gently wrapped around the nub, sucking gently, but enough that you could feel it. Hell could you feel it.

Your head fell back into the pillows, unable to keep it up anymore as your legs quivered around Peter’s head. The sight was heavenly. A head of silver hair lapping at your cunt, dark brown eyes glancing up at you as he flicked his tongue inside of you before pulling out to give attention to your clit.

You were surprised by how well he actually ate you out. Most men you’d been with were messy and not in a good way, totally missing any points of pleasure down there, but Peter. God was he good at it.

He continued his actions, speeding up every now and then until your whines became more desperate and your hips bucked up against his face. Somehow, without ever being together intimately, Peter just knew your tell tale signs that you were close. Maybe the porn had paid off.

“Peter!” You squealed as he pulled away for what felt like the fifteenth time. Your body was shaking with pleasure and a layer of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten.

“What baby girl? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it feel so nice?” He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as he teased you, his palms rubbing over your knees as he peeked up at you through his eyelashes.

You totally wanted to kick him right now. He was being such an ass.

“Peter! Please- fuck I was so close! This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” You groaned, urging his head back down to your pussy and finally he followed your lead.

He let you guide him back to your core and he began to lap away at it once more, closing his eyes as he moaned against you. His tongue moved inhumanly fast and it was quite literally the best thing you’d ever felt. Better than any store bought vibrator that was available.

“Fuck! Oh s-shit Peter- feels so good please don’t stop- please please don’t stop this time baby please-“ you begged, holding him by his hair, tugging hard on it as he groaned, open mouthed against you.

With a few more flicks of his tongue and sucks against you, you were cumming, your release coating Peter’s lips and chin as he did his best to clean you up, moaning against you.

Eventually you had to pull him away because he was so lost in your taste. Carefully you pulled him up by his silver locks, seeing the fucked out, happy expression on his face.

“So fucking good-“ he wiped his mouth on his arm before sitting up a bit, coming to himself as he finally got enough oxygen.

Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt and bra fully off, finally being fully naked before you pulled Peter into another kiss, getting on top of him.

He looked up at you with the softest brown puppy dog eyes he could muster, chest heaving as he let a quiet whine slip past his lips.

“Definitely getting much more than a New Year's kiss.” You laughed, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

“Fuckkk- please touch me- I’m literally throbbing baby you’ve got no idea how much I need you-“

“I think I have some idea,” you gently wrapped your hand around his red leaky cock once his boxers were off, and the sound that Peter made was something straight out of a porno.

“Shhh, Peter you’re really loud-“ you shook your head as you thumbed over the tip of him, watching as your thumb spread the opaque fluid across his pretty pink head.

“Really really want a new years kiss somewhere else-“ Peter panted, despite how desperate he was he was still cracking jokes. Of course. You wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but you had a better idea.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned down, face to face with his throbbing dick as you pressed a soft feather light kiss to the tip, watching the way Peter’s breath hitched the second you did.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and it was everything you ever wanted and more. Finally, after all this time. You had him. He was yours.

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum-“

“Peter I’ve barely touched you-“ your brows furrowed at his admission, honestly surprised. You had gotten him that worked up from barely touching him? To be fair he had done quite the same thing to you previously.

“Don’t- wanna cum yet- wanna fuck you please?” He asked, batting his eyes in a much too innocent way for how sinful the situation was.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As much as you wanted to explore his body, there would be time for that later. You too had all the time in the world now.

He pulled you down with him onto the bed as he tried to manhandle you down onto your back and before you knew it he was over top of you, leaning in between your legs, nudging your core with the tip of his cock.

“Can I?” He asked, looking up at you, his hair a disheveled mess of silver on top of his head.

“No condom?” You asked, brushing your thumb across his cheek as he shyly nodded, not meeting your eye, his next words surprising you.

“I-if that’s okay- I saw you were on birth control I was snooping around your room the other da-“

“Wait, pause right there, you were snooping around my room? Peter!” You shoved at his shoulder, an annoyed look settled on your face “what’s wrong with you? Creep!”

Peter put his hands up in surrender as he blushed hard, becoming shy now at his confession.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious! You know me! I'm a snoop!”

“Peter I cannot believe you right now but- dammit, yes. Yes just fuck me already please or im going to explode.”

Peter chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly slipped inside of you, your slick mixed with his saliva from Peter’s previous actions with his tongue making him glide inside easily.

The both of you gasped in unison at the feeling of being so close together in such an intimate setting. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There was almost no pain, despite how deeply he was stretching you out. It was like the two of you were meant for each other.

You clutched onto Peters shoulders as he gave a few experimental thrusts into you, shaky breaths mingling together in the air between your bodies.

Peter breathed out your name through a moan and you were sure it was the most magical sound you had ever heard and would ever hear.

“Fuck- to be fair I had no idea this was how the night was going to turn out-“ Peter cursed, sweat forming on his brow, not from exhaustion but from pleasure and the restraint it took to hold himself back from fucking you so hard the bed broke.

You laughed lightly, moaning as he hit a spot even deeper inside of you before pulling back out and repeating his actions.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Perfect way to start the New Year in my opinion.” You grinned before your smile was replaced with a gasp as Peter began to speed up his thrusts.

You didn’t fail to miss the way that his body vibrated with each thrust, fucking into you with purpose as he planted kisses and love bites all across your neck and shoulders before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

He hummed around the hardened bud before letting go of it with a pop.

“I just gotta say baby- these titties- you’ve been hiding them from me for tooooo long. They are bangin!” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his choice of words.

“F-fuck-“ he cursed again, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fucked into you with a kind of desperation you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t even need him to tell you, you just nodded in understanding, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

The two of you were close and your bodies were racing to the finish, chasing your euphoric highs.

“I-I-I’m-“ he choked out, unable to form the words.

“Shh, shh I know Peter, I know, me too.” You reassured him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and making him go farther inside of you, surely bruising your cervix.

Peter froze against you, humping against you twice more before stilling, filling you up with his warm seed.

The feeling finally threw you over the edge, your body seizing against his, arching up against him before collapsing limply back against the sheets.

The two of you caught your breath before Peter pulled out and laid next to you, tracing your stomach with his finger.

“Holy shit- that- Jesus that was- wow-“ Peter couldn’t find the words as he stared at you in disbelief.

You didn’t really have the words either so you just looked up at him and said,

“Happy New Year’s Peter.”

And he simply responded with

“Happy New Years.”

Maybe this new year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#evan peters #evan peters icons #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff fanfiction #xmen quicksilver #xmen #new year #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #evan peters fanfic

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spellbook-gayboy · 2 years

Note

i'm loving the energy prompt number 1 is giving off (also have a lovely friday! 💛)

“Say what now?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to be petty, Pretty Boy!” Pavel laughed, amused by his confusion. “When I get back home, that’s the first thing I’ll do! Find the most expensive place I can, and swat the balls right out of the air!”

Kyle chuckled in disbelief. “You are one weird motherfucker, Red! Like seriously, we clear ‘bout 20 square miles of Nazi-occupied countryside in less than two days, and that’s the first thing on your mind?! Lord have mercy!”

“Oy, I’m being serious!” the speedster protested. “C’mon, surely even America’s Sweetheart has acted out at least once in his life?”

Kyle opened his mouth to continue poking fun at his teammate, but paused, considering what in his life could be considered as ‘petty’. Eventually, he admitted “Well, now you mention it... back where I’m from, we have these neighbours, the Freemans. Black family, good people, best chicken farmers in the whole damn state, too, if you ask me! But, every Thursday, there were these rich assholes- types that lived off their grandpappy’s slave money, y’know?”

“Yeah, I think I know something like that”

“Well, they’d drive past in their fancy car, and their spoiled little shits would start yelling... less than kindly language, I’d guess you’d call it” he continued, voice going dark at the end.

“What did the Freemans do about them?” Pavel asked, now genuinely curious in the farm boy's story. “They pelt them with eggs?”

“Nah,” Kyle answered, “They couldn’t do a damn thing, actually. Black kids ‘inconveniencing’ an affluent white family out for their weekly drive? I don’t think I have to tell you how that’d end, Red.” he explained, a scowl lining his face. “But... kids from a God-fearing, all-American family o’ pig farmers? Well, that’s just juvenile delinquency, now ain’t it?”

“So you pelted them with eggs, eh?” Red Rush inferred, his tone intrigued and his face holding a sly smile. “Pretty Boy, you’re an animal!”

“Did Soprano tell you to call me that, or are you are just messin’ wit me?” Frontline changed, questioning the Russian’s way of addressing him.

“Something along those lines” was the only answer he got.

“Uh huh...” he replied, an unconvinced look on his face. “Anyway, so the rich folks go on their weekly drive, the gremlins get to yell their weekly round of slurs, but when they keep going onto Blue Peach Lane, they get a warm dairy welcome courtesy of the Washington kids!” he told Pavel gleefully, his laughter at the memory barely contained. “Oh, lemme tell ya, Red, that they were more omelette than human by the time we got done wit their rich asses!”, now breaking out into full-on laughter.

Pavel joined his teammate, snickering at the idea of egg-splattered racists. “No way! You just- haha- you just egged them? Wha-what happened next?”

“Oh, their pa came in, ranting and raving ‘bout unruly children and how my Pa needed to discipline us more. Didn’t matter much, since my Pa told him to fuck off right after. Mrs Freeman made us peach cobbler, too, so pretty good overall!” he finished the story, lightly licking his top lip. “Oh and uh, I gotta ask you a question ‘bout this golf plan of yours”

“Go ahead, Pretty Boy”

“You got room for a plus-one? I reckon I could a hit a few of ‘em!” Kyle chuckled.

“Y’know what, Kyle?” Pavel replied, “I think I might be able to squeeze you in”

#you have a great friday too Kay!#invincible #invincible amazon #invincible show #invincible oc #🦅🛡#Kyle Washington #⚡️🔴#Pavel Lenkov #my asks #sequids #writing prompt friday

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes.

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne.

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face.

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?”

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children.

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,” she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

“you were missed, you know.”

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?”

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

“being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption

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ketchupqueenboiiii · 3 years

Text

Death

A/N: Some swearing, and kind of rushed.

@maribatmarch-2k21

Beat up and broken Jason Todd in the warehouse Joker left him, pathetic. He helplessly looks around and sees twenty seconds on the timer. Which would have been time enough for him to escape if he was still in good shape. Then he hears voice and looks over to see a girl who seems to be glowing.

Not something a regular person sees everyday, but, as Robin, it's nothing too hard to believe.

"Who are you?" The most practical question he could come up with.

"I am Marinette." She didn't elaborate.

"What are you?"

She hesitated, looking off thoughtfully, like she was deciding how she would answer, "Not mortal."

"So you're an angel?" He said before he could stop himself. It would check out though, she's what you would think an angel would look like, white clothes, nice face, somehow glowing. All she's missing is the wings

She huffs, face grimacing in confusion and affrontedness, "Of course not. Angels do not exist."

"Well, excuse me." That's not very politically correct.

Neither spoke, Jason tried to be sizing her up with a glare and she just stood there starring right back.

"So, how'd you get in? Last I checked, there ain't another exit than the door." He looked over to it, "Which is locked."

"You are correct. There is only a door. But I came because I was summoned."

"Summoned? Mhm, cause that doesn't sound like absolute bull." He looked at her skeptically.

"Your end is near. I must be present." She stepped closer to him and in turn he scooted farther away.

"Ah, so you're the Grim reaper. Mhm, sure."

"I am not Death, that is my father." The fuck?

"Ok, so you're clearly crazy. Why don't you just show me how you got in so I can get out." He dealt with enough crazy for one night, thank you.

"I can't do that." Now she has to be difficult, because why the hell not? What ever force controlling the universe must be shitting their pants as they laugh at Jason's life.

"And why not?"

"I am not to meddle with Fate. Not even if I tried. Everything happens for a reason, and it's Fate's job to know that reason." She's really into her story.

"Ok, fine, so you're the child of death, that means you're here to guide me to wherever the fuck I'm cursed to, right?" He might as well entertain the conversation.

"No."

"No?" dear lord, Jason didn't have the patience for this chick. "Then what the hell are you here to do?"

"I represent Life, all of it." She could give Bruce a run for his money with that level of crypticness.

"That seems a little contradictory."

"Yes, well, my mother is goddess of fortune and chance. It was no surprise that my birth was one against the odds." She made her way to him and he moved back until his bruised back painfully hit the wall. She helped him sit up properly. He would have told her to fuck off if he wasn't in his current state. "I am patroness of everything in life and alive. From your first breath to your last."

"That doesn't explain why your here. As far I know, I'm closer to being dead then alive."

"As life, I am present in every mortal life."

"That's a lot of stops. There's no way you can do that, not even a speedster could."

"Haven't you noticed?" She tilted her head innocently, like how the younger street kids did to guilt adults into giving them their pocket change.

"Noticed what?"

"Look around you." He did, what's there to see but a crappy warehouse- oh, everything stopped. He couldn't hear the dripping of water, and he was sure that was a droplet mid-fall across from him. He hadn't even noticed. Even though the adrenaline wore off minutes ago, the fact that he was dying finally caught up to him. He started to breathe hard and his hands felt especially numb; to the point he was sure she noticed.

How could he be so distracted? The world had stopped and he didn't realize until now. It's probably the reason he's in this situation. He deserved this fate, Bruce probably wouldn't even-

"Bruce will mourn, Jason. And a death such as this one is not one you deserve." How did she- was she in his head?

"How they hell do you know that?"

"Lives like yours are frequently monitored. The neutral, who have done equally good and bad, are not. Kind of like bookmarking, we move on to watch others but make sure to remember you." She was falling out of that proper, airy routine. Jason found it slightly less obnoxious.

"That doesn't explain jack-"

"You started to ramble and hyperventilate and shake and, and I had to do something." She rambled on herself, flustered and looking away, likely out of embarrassment. She even blushed.

Once she calmed her flaming cheeks, she spoke again, "I have come here to comfort you in your last seconds of life."

His amused eyes changed to glaring ones, "I don't need comfort."

"Something I like to do is stick around with mortals who have actively done good or bad. Enough to get them in to the Fields of Reward or the Isle of Penalty." That sounds a lot like what he had learned in Social Studies, the Greek gods and their definition of after life. And if he's right, he could be spending the eternity in with some old minced god or in paradise. Jason didn't know if he wanted to be told his fate.

"...Which am I?" Apparently, his lips weren't in jurisdiction of his already poor impulse control.

"You, Jason Todd, the second Robin, will achieve entry to the Fields of Reward. As all heroes do."

"All heroes?" He's pretty sure no one else in the JL died.

"Heroes, the people who did well for their cause. You are a hero, and you will be remembered as one."

"Aren't the good guys supposed to die will honor, or after retirement? They'd get statues and holidays named after them. I'm just a street rat who got lucky-"

She surprised him by hugging him.

"Um, excuse, me?" Hugs weren't very common in the Wayne household, he could count on three fingers how many times Bruce hugged him.

"As I said before, Jason, you will be mourned and you will be remembered. By your father and your brother. And all else who have been affected in your path." She whispered to him, her weight feeling like nothing more than a gust of wind on his body.

"They are not-"

"We both know you consider them so." Fucking weird pretty angel-gods and their fucking ability to read people-

He was silent. She moved over to his side against the concrete wall and held his hand. He tensed, for a second then calmed himself.

"Are you ready?" She whispered, voice threatening to crack. This was always the worst part. Seeing them die, especially such a good one, so brutally. And the heartbroken looks on their family's faces. She sensed his father nearby, on his vehicle, stuck in place yet still seconds too late.

"...yeah." He answered, just as quiet. He understood that this was it. The death of Jason Todd. At least he'd go out with a bang.

Oh gods, it was way too early to joke about his death.

Time came back to speed, 5 seconds. 4 seconds.

3 seconds.

"They love you, Jason." She said, leaning her head just over his dislocated shoulder.

2 seconds.

"Are you sure you're ready?" She asked.

1 second.

"No."

BOOM!

#maribat march #maribat #jasonette #death

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dementedspeedster · 2 years

Note

cameron and thad having some petri dish kids lets go LMAO

Accepting || Send me a pair name and I’ll tell you what I think it would be like if they had a child.

@frozendelinquent (lol you get two test tube children cause her personality just popped up and I couldn’t help myself)

[Second kid under the cut]

Name: Gwyn Mahkent-Thawne (Gwyn means white, fair, and blessed and it was just fitting; Regarding the last name Thad typically wouldn’t like his children to inherit his name, but in the case of his and Cameron’s options he was willing to be stubborn about either going with his last name over Cameron’s or hyphenating.)

Gender: Male

General Appearance: Tall, has musculature, but is lean like how Cameron and Thad are, and generally string bean like. He’s got sharper features like Cameron and generally appearance-wise takes after Cameron more heavily.

Personality: He’s so snarky and has such a smart mouth, which definitely gets him into trouble because he’s more of a speak first think later type with his wit. I see him as someone who’s more prone to run from fights than get into them, but he can if he has no choice. Gwyn is scrappy and surprisingly analytical despite the shit that comes out of his mouth (do people listen to him typically? Probably not, but hey he warned them so that’s on them. This is also sort of the mentality he’s got going on. People will underestimate him and he’ll be like ‘Well it’s your funeral’).

Special Talents: Ice Powers, Speed, Can’t vibrate through shit (Thad’s really trying to teach him, but they’re going to have figure out something else at this rate).

Who they like better: He likes Thad and Cameron the same, but probably Thad just a tiny bit more.

Who they take after more: Cameron

Personal Head canon: He’s quick to react in situations. Honestly a bit of a dork. He’s handsome like his father, but also a dork like both of them. That doesn’t stop him from trying to flirt.

---[Second kid done in Picrew because it was just not working out in my style]---

Name: Nell Mahkent-Thawne

Gender: Female

General Appearance: She’s got really light hair that is naturally a bit mussy, pale blue eyes like Cameron’s, her facial features are a bit softer, except for her eyes which are more like Thad’s.

She definitely inherited Thad’s pout and the way he scrunches his face.

Personality: Mischievous, scrappy, stubborn, she definitely picks fights with people bigger and stronger than her. She’s a manipulator, but also a bit of a brat at her young age.

Special Talents: Ice powers, some speed, can vibrate through walls (she lords this over her brother. It also makes moments when he’s chasing her). She absolutely uses her combo of powers to ice skate around enemies. Putting blades on a speedster is absolutely a worst case scenario for other people and she knows it. (I feel like there going to vague worry from Thad and Cameron’s just going to think this is cool. She probably be a villain when she grows up. )

Who they like better: Cameron. (I have she would be able to get away with more with him.)

Who they take after more: Thad. She definitely has the same wild vibes Thad did in his youth (especially in the Impulse comics).

Personal Head canon: Definitely has that younger sibling status of being treated like a baby despite being a bit of menace. Definitely bullies Gwyn at times and uses her status as a younger sibling to get what she wants (not just at home, but also just in general she uses the fact she’s a young girl to her advantage).

When she’s older she’ll definitely inherit Cameron’s flirty nature, but unlike with Gwyn it will work better for her and people will think she’s cool.

#ask #frozendelinquent #My brain looking at this skinny white boy: go white boy go #//Thad and Cameron = just menaces for children.#Me with name: picks something and then doesn't turn back.#he was this close to a normal name. this close #second option was graham #They are like if you separated the cool and uncool qualities of Thad and Cameron and put them in separate children.#//Rip Gwyn in this case.#my art #fankids

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aizawaskittenwhore · 3 years

Text

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought.

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising.

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke. “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours.

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits.

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit.

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his.

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids.

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout.

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line.

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass.

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body.

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand.

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them.

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.”

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body.

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead.

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister.

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

#aizawa x female reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha #bnha x reader #hawks #nyafterhours

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softolivarry · 4 years

Text

What if you just kiss him? | olivarry au

Barry realized he was bisexual after a very looong period of time of him doubting everything he had ever known.

It wasn't because Joe and Iris wouldn't accept him, it was because maybe he couldn't accept himself.

Because Barry "Of course I'm straight" Allen have been telling that lie for so long that he believed it, and discarded every thought other than friendly towards literally every person he met.

But the moment he realized was after Cisco started joking with him.

"Dude, you literally dropped everything to go to another city!" He teased him, holding his laughter while drinking his slushie.

"There's nothing deep about it, Oliver's a good friend" Barry smiled, taking it the importance.

"Oh! Oh!" Cisco dramatized while pressing his hands on the table "I'm getting a vibe!"

Barry immediately was walking towards him "What? What are you seeing?"

"Oh false alarm" he moved his hair to its place "It wasn't that kind of vibe" the speedster looked at him, confused "Just my gaydard screaming" he smirked at the flush of Barry's cheeks.

"Wh-What do you mean?" He instantly started to stutter.

"Oh come on dude, haven't you at least thought you might not be thaat straight?"

After a lot of tests and searching around in google, he was more than sure he wasn't straight.

And when he teamed again with Oliver, it all clicked.

Shit! He had a major crush on his vigilante partner.

When he came back from Star City, he arrived the cortex only to find Cisco and Caitlin working in something he didn't really care.

"How did it go with Mr. Queen?" the latino moved his eyebrows, suggestively.

Barry sat on the floor of the cortex, staring at the wall.

"Barry, are you okay?" Cait stopped what she was doing and walked towards the speedster.

"I like Oliver" he kept staring at the wall.

The cortex filled with a dead silence.

Before Cisco interrupted it "Yes!" he moved his hands, celebrating "Snow, pay up!" he pointed at her.

That brought Barry back to the reality.

"Did you jus-"

"I told Caitlin you were going to realize it very soon but she stated you will notice after like thirty years"

Now Barry looked at Caitlin.

"You can be pretty oblivious" she raised his shoulders.

"I mean, haven't you noticed how Oliver looks at you?"

Barry turned at Cisco so fast he almost broke his own neck.

"What?!" Cisco mutted him with his hand.

"Ok, we need to focus on this new plan: How can Oliver and Barry be together" He smiled.

"What If you just kiss him?" Caitlin asked, obvious, but with the looks on her teammates' face, she continued "Come on! Now we know Barry likes Oliver and we are pretty sure it's mutual"

"No we aren't" Barry almost shouted, panicking "And also, he thinks I'm straight"

"Then tell him you're not" said the latino while eating a red vine.

"Oh sure, what about "Hey Ollie, I noticed I'm bisexual as fuck and I like you a lot, let's date"? Is it enough direct for you?" he moved his hands exagerating.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Cisco raised his hands in sign of peace.

"Okay, then show it" Cait intervened and looked at them "When the times were rough, lgbt people had their own signs to recognize each other, and as far as I know, Oliver's bisexual too, so he might recognize them" she moved her hands while explaining.

That night, Barry stayed up till 4 am searching in all sources he could found... even memes.

And the next week. he started to think about more and more excuses to team up with the emerald archer.

He's desperate, he has tried everything, literally e v e r y t h i n g, he has ever crossed through internet.

So after he decides to be agressive, he really hopes it works or he will be very embarassed.

When Oliver saw the speedster entering the coffee shop, he felt his jaw hurt after how hard it dropped.

But it was totally worth it when he saw Barry Allen, the Barry Allen that has been acting strange for like half a year or more, the Barry "Of course I'm straight" Allen, his Barry Allen; with high waisted jeans and a white crop top with a tiny rainbow in the pocket over his heart.

He avoided looking at him while he drank a sip of his coffee but it was a terrible idea when he almost choked because Barry decided to connect their eyes and smile.

Oliver loved his smiles, it made him feel at peace. However, at the moment he was feeling everything but at peace.

And his thoughts... oh lord. He thanked the universe Barry didn't get the ability to read minds because right now his thoughts weren't very innocent.

"What are you wearing?" Oliver finally asked with a smile on his face.

"Oh... I-" the speedster doubted for a second "This is Iris', I couldn't... do laundry this week" He smiled nervous, wanting to hit his head with the table repeatedly.

"Oh..." Oliver was literally speechless, he couldn't stop looking at the man in front of him.

And he thanked whoever was attacking the city because if he kept looking at him, he will end up kissing him.

And it will all be very awkward since Barry's straight. Right?

"Um yeah... there's someone... attacking Central City's bank, so I should go" he pointed at the exit very nervous while he stood up.

But he was in fact mad and embarassed, because Oliver just kept ignoring him and taking slow sips of his coffee and he only waited for that stupid drink to end so he could focus on him; but now there was a meta attacking his city and screwing his date with Oliver.

"Yeah, you should" he nodded at he saw him turning around and leaving. Two seconds later he reacted and went behind him "You know what?" He grabbed Barry's shoulder "I think I can go and... you know... watch you make your move"

Barry's excited smile came again as they were out of Jitters and walking in the alley. Oliver couldn't resist anymore and slammed the younger man against a wall; but Barry was who wrapped his arms around the archer's neck and kissed him.

Disagreeing with his body, the blue eyed man stopped the kiss "Are you sure you want this? I mean... you're straight"

Barry rolled his eyes "Ollie, shut the fuck up" he pulled the blonde again to his lips.

They really don't know how many hours they spent but the only thing that could interrupt them was an incoming insistent call from Cisco.

Barry finally answered and before he could say anything, Cisco demanded "Both of you. Cortex. Right now!"

Oliver, who heard everything due to how close they were, couldn't help but smile and kiss Barry again.

This exact moment, he thought, was the first time he ever felt this happy.

At the cortex, Oliver was still wrapping Barry's hips with his arms.

"Where were you?!" Frost yelled.

Cisco who seemed very serious before looking at the detail, sighed and covered his face "While you two lovebirds were busy, Frost, Ralph and I saved the entire city!"

"But you did it!" Barry raised his hands, trying to congratulate them.

None of them knew who wanted to punch Barry more.

"I really hope it was worth it" Cisco mumbled with his face still covered.

"Oh believe me..." Oliver smirked and looked at Barry "It was"

#olivarry #flarrow #oliver x barry #barry x oliver #barry allen x oliver queen #oliver queen x barry allen #bisexual mess!barry allen #bi!barry allen #bi!oliver queen #bisexual barry allen #bisexual oliver queen #bi!flash #bi!green arrow #bi!arrow #olivarry headcanon #flarrow headcanon #olivarry au #flarrow au

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chimie-chat · 4 years

Text

The Big Book: A Roy Harper recovery fic

It was funny how a situation that should have been perfectly normal could suddenly be so stressful. A clink as glasses tipped against one another. The oh-so-familiar EDM bass beat that filled the air until it practically vibrated against his skin. The clammy feeling in the palms of his hands…

Roy took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to occupy his thoughts with literally anything other than the 1.75 milliliter bottle just on the other side of the table. His eyes were trained on the deep honey color of the liquid inside while his fingers traced the circle of condensation his own cup left behind on the vinyl tablecloth.

Stop staring. Come on Harper. You can do this. He tore his eyes away, screwing them shut as he brought his cup up to his lips and took a sip of shirley temple. The artificial flavor of grenadine tasted way too sweet, but the bubble of the soda against his gums made him relax ever so slightly. That was the feeling he loved. Not exactly, but it was pretty damn close. Not a day went by that he didn’t imagine the ghost of beer fizz on his lips, but if he could mimic it, even slightly, then it made this shitty situation just that much easier.

Living Sober, a book written by and for alcoholics, suggested keeping a sweet drink in your hand any time you would be near alcohol. Needless to say, ever since he managed to start this bout of sobriety, Roy had kept nothing but sugary drinks in hand at all times. His soda intake had gone through the roof. But hey. At least he wasn’t drinking.

He wasn’t drinking.

That would be great… If he wasn’t surrounded by people who were. It was some kind of get-together; a bad attempt at rekindling friendships between his former Titans team, his current Outlaws, and various other vigilantes in their age range. That was a lie. IT was just gonna be the Titans. At least, that’s what it started as. That’s what the plan was. To be perfectly honest, Roy hadn’t wanted to go at all. Did he like his friends? Sure. That was the word for it. They were like a second, third, and fourth family to him after all. But he knew them all too well. He knew that spending time with them would mean white knuckling it as they drank. Them pretending they were being conscious of his predicament while simultaneously clinking their shot glasses together. God he didn’t want to be here.

“So then Wally turned to the guy and saidー”

“No! You’re gonna do it wrong!” The speedster cut Dick off with a hand over the guy’s mouth. Wally. The only other member of this ragtag group that wasn’t some form of intoxicated right now. It wasn’t by choice though. No matter how much the man drank, his metahuman genealogy made it impossible for him to get drunk. What a lucky prick. “So I turned to the guy and saidー”

Roy took another sip of his shirley temple.

“Hold on. I’m gonna go get another one.” Donna pushed up from her seat, and Roy couldn’t help but look at her face. The woman’s face always got a pink glow after she’d had a few. It was a sure tell that she was getting close to her limit, but everyone knew she wasn’t going to stop any time soon. She walked with her highball glass to the bar counter on the other side of the sleazy joint they were in and waved down the bartender.

“Oh yeah. Another!” Dick reached for the bottle of gold Jose Cuervo and poured himself another shot. That was just like Dick. Always sloppy.

Still. Roy watched the tequila pour and couldn’t help but lick his lips. God he loved tequila. He remembered when he first started drinking, and would still pour salt on the back of his hand and bite into a lime wedge with each shot. When had he stopped relying on tricks to keep it down? When had it started going down like water? By the time he was about… Eighteen maybe? No. Probably seventeen. The ginger man felt a shiver roll down his spine. Right. That’s why we quit. Because it was too easy not to.

He reached for his pocket, opening up his wallet and peaking at the orange colored coin inside. Two months. Two whole months. He pulled it out slightly and reach the inscription on the back.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

The prayer played on repeat in his head like a broken record. He could do this. Just an outing with friends. He could do this.

“ーgrade, right?”

It took a moment for Roy to realize someone was talking to him. “Huh?” He slipped his coin back into his wallet and looked up to find Lilith staring right at him from across the table. To be honest, he didn’t remember talking to this girl all that much. At least not recently. Not since she moved to the… Oh lord where had she moved to. West coast? That sounded right. Wow. He was a really shitty friend. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Lian. She’s in the first grade now, isn’t she?” The red headed girl swirled her straw through her strawberry daiquiri.

“Oh uhー”

“She’s still in kindergarten.” The voice came with a weight leaning down on Roy’s shoulder, and the man didn’t have to look up to know exactly whose it was. Jason fucking Todd, hopefully here to save the day.

“That so? How nice.” Lilith seemed to accept this, smiling over the lip of her drink, and for some reason not using to straw to take a sip. Why? What was the point of that? Using the straw made it easier to get straight to the rum that settled at the bottom of the glass.

“Hey Jaybird. Better late than never, asshole.” Roy smacked the guy’s arm away.

“Hit some traffic.” The man just shrugged before dragging a chair away from another table and somehow fitting it between Roy’s and Donna’s. Probably for the better. “Didn’t realize yous guys would get the party started without me.”

“What? You think we’re just gonna wait for ya?” The archer did his best to flash a grin as he lifted his glass, tipping it back against his lips, only to find out that it was empty. So instead he pulled one of the ice cubes into his mouth and chewed on it. Ok. That worked too.

Jason eyed him for a second. “Want me to get you another?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Roy placed the glass down, tapping his fingers against the sides of it.

“Hold on a sec. Hey waiter!” Jason called out towards some poor, underpaid girl in a waist-apron. He waved her over. “Can we get anotherー Wait what were you drinking?”

Roy felt his nerves spike. He didn’t like announcing his prissy, sissy drinks to the world. He had this manly persona to keep up. Someone like him should be ordering a glass of whiskey. Someone like him should be getting ready to slam down another jägerbomb, then disappear into the bathroom to do a line of some sketchy shit he bought off some random guy in the parking lot. “The usual.” He muttered.

“Alright so Imma need a gingerale, and a shirley temple. Make sure to put a few extra cherries in there for me too, if ya could.” Jason rattled off the order without any need for clarification. Damn. This bastard really knew him too well.

With the waitress gone ー he was oddly nervous about eavesdroppers ー Roy felt like he could relax again. “You’re not drinking?”

“Nah. I’m good.” Jason shrugged before stretching an arm over the back of Roy’s chair. It was casual. Nothing odd about it at all.

“Oh. Ok then.”

“Jayyy?” Dick’s slurred words interrupted. “When’d you get’ere?”

“I’ve been here this whole time.”

Roy couldn’t help but snort at the confused expression on the man’s face as he sincerely tried to remember whether or not Jason had, in fact, been with them since the beginning. Eventually, the acrobat just shrugged, and took a sip of some highlighter blue drink he’d somehow acquired. Well, Donna was back, so maybe she brought it for him.

“Dick slow down.” Wally tried to grab at the end of the glass, but their drunken mess of a leader pulled it tight into his chest instead.

“No! I’m only on like…” They all watched as the man counted on his fingers, before holding up one hand. “I’m on drink seven. I’m fine!”

What a lightweight. Seven drinks was nothing. Roy needed bare minimum twelve strong ones.

“What an idiot.” He heard Jason mumble.

“Our fearless leader.” Roy dipped his fingers into his cup and pulled up another ice cube. If this is what he was stuck with, then that was fine. Damn. When was that new drink gonna get here?

Jason looked him over. “You doing ok?” The question was whispered.

There was a pause as Roy just let the ice cube melt on the top of his tongue. He sucked on it lightly, tasting the residual sugar that it must have picked up from the syrup. “Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Don’t lie to me, Harper.”

The stern tone in Jason’s voice made Roy chuckle and roll his eyes. “Yes Mom.” He looked off at the decorations on the wall of the pub, lifting his hands to adjust the cap on his head. He couldn’t quite decide if he wanted it to face forward or back, but he decided to settle on forward for now. “Yeah. I think I’m ok. I’m making it by at least.”

“Alright, man."

They somehow integrated themselves into the conversation again, though it was mostly Jason making sarcastic comments on whatever trash left their increasingly drunken friend's mouths, while Roy stayed on the sidelines. The waitress coming back was the biggest blessing he'd had since sitting down. He immediately pulled one of four maraschino cherries out and popped it into his mouth, the cool gush of the juice kicking his senses back into gear.

There were several moments where he thought of jumping into the conversation, and putting in his two cents. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, and thought about which AA meetings he could get to this week. As fun as the seven thirty am meeting was, it seemed like he would be out late tonight, so he probably wouldn't be able to get up for it. He could probably get to a noon meeting, but he really preferred the noon NA meetings. It's been a skinny minute since he's gone to NA actually…. Well he didn't really have anything to do tomorrow, so he could go to that, and then stick around for the four o'clock AA, and then pick up a Happy Meal for Lian for dinner. Yeah. That would work. She loved getting those toys too.

It wasn't until Jason tapped on the back of his chair that Roy realized he'd really let himself zone out. He frowned. That wasn't like him at all. He needed to be more active in the conversations; at the very least, crack some jokes. He listened in on Donna attempting to lecture the rest of their teammates on the buddy system, before he finally jumped back in.

"Oh come on, baby. How much trouble could they get in?" He grinned, leaning on his elbows.

Apparently, this question caused some kind of horror, cause the star-spangled girl immediately looked at him in shock. "A lot, actually."

"Nah. They'll totally be fine." He waved her off, crossing his arms behind his head. Did he know the context? Not at all. Fake it 'til ya make it, am I right?

"Oh my god you really are all dumbasses." The woman hung her head in her hands.

"Uh hey. Don't lump me in with this." Jason frowned. "I'm not part of your little troupe."

"No you just stole Roy from us." Wally jabbed, pushing the now empty tequila bottle to the other side of the table. When did it get empty? Who drank it? Who drank the most tonight?

"This idiot? You can have him back any time."

"Ouch. Tell me how you really feel."

The chatter stayed pretty consistent, and for a while the archer was actually feeling quite comfortable. This was easy. Talking. He could do that. Now that drinks seemed to be done with, and they could all collectively agree to give Dick shit for how he was acting, this was all fine. Wow. Being sober was great. Going out with friends, knowing that he'd remember getting home? Amazing. Not googling the nearest ATM so he could get cash to blow on smack? Definitely saving the bank.

He could do this. This time, he'd make it work. This time he'd go through the steps, and rely on his sponsor when he needed it. He’d do a ninety in ninety, and collect those chips like they were Pokémon cards. He could build a display for them. He loved building things, and tinkering, and he’d been looking for a new project. He could make enough spots for a whole years worth. It would give him that bit of motivation he needed.

He vaguely caught a whiff of a glass of wine being served at another table, and flicked his wallet open again to see the picture of his daughter he kept over his license. That right there was his main reason for keeping clean. That smile.

He had to do this.

“Dude, you ok?” Wally’s voice shook Roy out of whatever train of thought he’d somehow wandered down.

“Huh?” He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the photograph.

“Idunnoman.” The fellow redhead shrugged, tipping his chair back on its hind legs. “You just seem out of it. Really weird too. You’re not talkin’ all that much either.”

“Um…” Roy pulled the lip of his baseball cap down over his face, and took a breath. “Yeah, man. I’m doing fine.”

“You sure? Cause like, you just seem different andー”

“He’s the same as he always is.” Jason practically slammed ー well, loudly placed down ー his soda. The action itself wasn’t very threatening, but the glare that came along with it wasn’t one you’d want to be on the other end of.

For some ungodly reason, rather than just dropping it, this asshole just had to keep pushing. Man, fuck speedsters. Sure, Wally was one of his best friends, but like… Screw you, man. “But like… I dunno it just doesn’t really seem like you wanna be here.” He doesn’t. “Like you didn’t have to come, but since you’re here you could likeー”

“What?” Roy felt his face drop. No. No that wasn’t what he was thinking at all. “Dude, I was the one that suggested we get together in the first place.” It was his sponsor’s idea. Rekindling old friendships was supposed to help him relearn how to be social.

“Not to start an argument here,” Oh god Donna not you too. “But I do agree that you’re acting different than you normally do. If something’s wrong, you know you can talk to us.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Nothing’s wrong with you guys, but everything’s wrong with him. Roy felt his heartbeat picking up. Was he really that… weird? He thought… He thought he was doing so well…”

“You surー”

“Leave it.” Jason cut in again, this time a lot more forceful. Thank his Higher Power for this guy. Honestly? Where the hell would he be without this guy? The angry, warning voice came with a hand on Roy’s thigh, which he hadn’t realized was bouncing at about a mile a minute. It gripped, and Roy stilled.

“It’s fine, Jay.” He whispered, though he placed his hand down on top of the other’s. “It’s…” He took a deep breath. “Actually, can I go?”

Jason just nodded, instantly pushing his chair back. “It’s pretty late. You probably gotta pick Lian up from the sitter, right?” Thank you for making up an excuse. Thank you so much.

“Shit. You’re right.” He did his best to feign like he’d completely forgotten about that. He didn’t actually have to pick Lian up until the morning. He’d made plans just in case he fucked up tonight. She didn’t deserve to see him any kind of distressed, or under any kind of influence. She didn’t deserve to know her daddy was such a fucking mess. He looked back towards his friends, making sure to smile even though he really didn’t feel up to it. “Sorry guys. We should do this again next week though.”

“Totally!” Lilith jumped in with a smile. She was always nice. Wow. He seriously needed to talk to her more. At the time, it didn’t occur to him that she was a psychic, and could probably read the sheer distress that was rolling through him. No. That was something he wouldn’t realize until tomorrow. “I’ll make sure to keep my weekend free for you. Oh, could you bring Lian next time? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

Any excuse to think about his little Squeaker was an excuse to actually feel good. “I’ll send you a picture of something she drew a few days ago. I think you’d like it. Well uh…” He looked to Jason, who was pulling a wad of cash out of his pocket ー no wallet apparently ー and dropping it on the table. It was more than enough to cover both of their drinks. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

He vaguely registered a very drunken goodbye from Dick, and what sounded like Wally getting smacked ー he deserved it ー as he pushed his way out of the pub, his feet carrying him faster than would be deemed normal, but he wasn’t quite running, so that was probably fine?

The cold night air filled his lungs when he stepped into the parking lot and it was… It was so much. The combination of finally able to release that tension from white knuckling it through the past few hours, and the shame of apparently being a bad friend made him just.... Men don’t cry. They don’t. They’re not supposed to, but right now, standing outside of a shitty dive joint he didn’t even want to go to in the first place, stuffing his hands into his armpits because of course he hadn’t brought a jacket, he could just feel the sting in the corners of his eyes; the pool, and the threat that this of all places was where he was finally going to break down, and… God he just… He felt so useless.

Hinges cried out as the door opened and slammed shut, before a body was standing right next to him. He didn’t have to look up to know is was Jason. It was always Jason. Soon that slightly stained, definitely thrifted leather jacket that was so iconically him was being draped around Roy’s shoulders. First he felt the warmth. The smell of cigarette smoke came as he muttered his thanks, and adjusted the coat so his arms could be shoved into the sleeves. One of Jason’s hands dug through the jacket’s outer pocket, and pulled out a Marlboro box and an old fashioned zippo. The only sound between them was the repeated flicks of the lighter, before Jason took his first drag. “Want it?” He held it between them.

Roy looked at it, before shaking his head. “Stopped that too.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nah. It’s fine. You didn’t know.” He pulled at the collar of the jacket, and took a deep breath. “It was the easiest thing to quit.”

“I bet.” The cigarette was only half finished when Jason tossed it to the ground and snubbed it out with the toe of his boot. “I know you didn’t drive. Want me to take you home, or do you want to come back with me?”

Roy thought about it. Home would be empty right now. That didn’t sound great. Of course, Jay would stay if he asked. But they both knew who had the more comfortable bed. “Your place.”

“Cool.” A finger and thumb pinch at the hem of one of Roy’s pockets and gave a tug. “Come on. My bike’s over here.”

Roy let himself be led. “Don’t you think a car would be smarter in this weather?”

There was a slight hum, though they both knew there was no way Red Hood would ditch his bike for a Honda Civic. The only reason Roy traded his out was because a carseat couldn’t fit on his Harley. “Nah. I think I’m good. ‘Sides. I got good tires.”

Jason was parked on the other side of the lot, which was awfully far from the entrance to the pub, but really close to the road. He always did that. Closer to the road meant it was easier to get away. They did a lot of that; getting away.

The second seat popped open, and Jay pulled out the ever-iconic Red Hood helmet, holding it under his arm as he held out a second, all black one out. “Can’t have your brains splatting all over the road.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him. “Damn, how bad did your driving get?” Roy took the helmet and just… Stared at it. The tinted face shield would make it impossible for anyone to identify the wearer, but it still somehow caught a glare from a nearby street lamp. He felt himself frowning at it. “Hey… Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I…” He swallowed. He didn’t actually know what question he wanted to ask. Words were never his strong suit. Action always worked best for him. Punching things, and shooting things, and… and… What else did he like? Maybe he didn’t need to ask a question right now. Actions. Doing things. Yeah. That’s what he needed right now. He needed to do something. Anything. Anything that would make him not think about the bees in his teeth. “Sorry. I’m being and idiot.”

“Hey. None of that.” Jason hung his helmet on the handlebars before stepping in and pulling the one out of Roy’s hands, placing it on the leather seat. Hands found their spot on Roy’s shoulders, squeezing them in a really awful massage, then traveled up to grip much more reassuringly at the back of the man’s neck. One pulled at the brim of Roy’s hat and twisted it around. “You’re doing great, Roy. You’re doing really great.”

He nodded, letting his partner step into his space. His head fell when thumbs rubbed into the tangles on the back of his neck.

“Roy. Bud, at me.”

He shook his head.

Hot breath fanned over his face in time with the forehead that pressed against his own. The leather strap from his cap made it awkward, but neither man made any effort to move. “You’re going great, Roy. I’m so proud of you for getting through that.”

“I justー” The archer swallowed the lump in his throat. “I need it to stick this time. I can’t mess up this time.”

“You won’t.” Jason whispered.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Cause I know you, and you’re a hard ass.” It broke the tension just enough for both of them to give a slight laugh. Then, Jason pulled back, smiling as he looked into Roy’s eyes. “You can beat this. I know you can.”

Roy swallowed and nodded. He reached forward, gripping into that shitty, high-thread count polo shirt the other man was wearing. God he hated how that one piece of clothing probably cost more than his own full outfit. Every fiber of his being craved everything he couldn’t have. He craved the absolute lack of control and massive confidence boost alcohol gave him. He craved the clarity and creativity LSD opened his eyes to. He craved the euphoric rush of cocaine, and peaceful relaxation of weed. First and foremost, he craved the mellow, the “world is beautiful” feeling, the “life is worth living” feeling…. He craved just how fucking nice heroin was. Roy felt himself shaking, as he met Jason’s eyes, and he just knew what the pleading expression on his face looked like. A glance of blue eyes over his absolute mess of an expression, and he knew Jason had figured it out too.

Lips pressed together, groundless and chapped, but enough to fill that last craving up. For now. Roy sighed and leaned in close, ignoring the voice of his sponsor in the back of his mind telling him just how stupid he was to be starting something with his best friend right now. No offence Waylon, but you’re an idiot if you don’t think this hasn’t been in the works for years, and an ass for trying to get him to stop now.

“Better?” Jason asked, pulling back just slightly.

Roy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his senses filling with that cigarette smell that clung to his partner. “Not really. But thanks.”

“Is there a meeting tonight I can take you to?” A hand gently pushed the motorcycle helmet back to Roy. “Or I can take you in the morning. I’ll go with you.”

“Tomorrow…” Roy nodded. “I wanna go to my homegroup. It’s in Star City though.”

“Easy.” Jason grinned, and stepped back, grabbing his mask and throwing it on, before swinging a leg over his bike.

“You sure?” For the first time in what felt like all night, Roy felt that stupid, broken smirk of his form on his face again. “The early bird meeting is at seven thirty.”

That seemed to make Jason pause for a moment. Bats weren’t exactly known for being early to rise. “I’ll make it work.”

“So difficult.” He took his cap off and jammed it into the inside zipper pocket of the leather jacket, then put his own helmet on, before hopping on the bike. He gripped at the strap of Jason’s belt, curling his fingers tight around it. He wasn’t about to be caught dead wrapping his arms around the dude’s waist. “Thanks, Jaybird. I mean it.”

The engine roared to life, and he shut his eyes, once again reciting the usual prayer in his mind.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Keep coming back. It works if you work it.

93 notes · View notes

melyaliz · 5 years

Text

Scribbles

Fandom: Marvel / X-men Movies

Summary: Soulmate AU where whatever they write on their skin goes on their soulmates and person A keeps drawing dicks because they think it’s funny that they will show up on person B. and person B having to constantly cover them up and like “who the FUCK is this asshole!”

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x OC

Notes: First off yes, I know I have a few requests and this isn’t one of them but… I was inspired (Like 8 pages inspired)

Gemma is my new oc that I am working on at the moment I’ll probably post her character sheet soon plus MAYBE finish her full story.

Anyway, she grew up in a pretty christen household (thinking she may be a pastor's daughter) And I totally HC that Peter is TOTALLY the kind of guy who would draw on himself.

So the image of like Gemma having to go to church with a HUGE dick on her arm and has to wear a sweater in summer and stuff was just too funny to pass up on.

I honestly didn’t know how to end this so I just kind of did?

Promise requests will be coming soon :D

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

———--------------------------------------------------

Peter had already been suspended from writing on textbooks and his desk and with his notebook confiscated there was nothing left but his arm.

Freedom of expression man.

Plus the monster eating the freckle on his left arm was tiring out really good.

“Mr. Maximoff, do you have anything of value to add to our discussion today?”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter frowned his brown eyes scanning the board for a moment taking in the information before glancing over at Karen’s notes. Pride and prejudice was as boring as it sounded. Wasn’t that kind of a chick book anyway?

“Yeah, I’m good” Peter added putting his hands behind his back as his teacher his arm and art clearly visible for the teacher to see just to prove his defiance to this book.

However, the teacher didn’t react and just went back to the front of the class.

Confused Peter looked at his arm.

It was blank.

-*-

“Gemma what did you do to your arm!?!”

Gemma glanced down at her arm, the sleeve of her rolled up Catholic school uniform visibly showed the dark drawings of monsters eating helpless woman. “Uhhh I…”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go to that Iron Maiden concert,” her mother and school’s math teacher said grabbing her daughter pulling her toward the bathroom. “Your body is a temple”

“Mom I promise? I have no idea how I got this!”

Her mother paused for a moment looking down at her daughter’s arm, the permanent dark images now bleeding down her pale skin making them look even more grotesque.

“I wonder…”

“What Mom?”

“So you didn’t draw on yourself?”

“I mean I have before but this isn’t me I’m not this good. Honest, I know it sounds crazy but it just showed up after science. Bobby was laughing about it and I was so confused.” Gemma adding a little More soap to her arm blowing away a few strands of her white-blonde hair out of her face, “besides I’m not stupid enough to draw demons on my arm at a Catholic school”

“It could be your soulmate”

“Huh?” Gemma turned to her mom who was now rummaging in her bag for something. Once she found it she pulled out her pen handing it to her daughter.

“Write something”

“What happened to my body is a temple?”

“Too late now” her mother laughed motioning to the melting monsters. “Go ahead”

“What should I draw?” Nerves bubbling up inside her. Weird how nervous you can suddenly get.

“Anything you want.”

Growing Gemma placed the pen to her skin pausing for a moment trying to think about what to draw.

HELLO

-*-

Bold block letters running down the length of his arm stopping at his wrist. Peter had already gotten a detention slip for mouthing off to his teacher and was now tapping his pencil on his desk as he sat there. Board out of his mind… until now.

Curious he glanced down at his arm looking over the words now scrolled boldly over his arm.

Interesting.

“Maximoff are we going to have a problem?”

“Nope” came the distracted respond as Peter slowly drew a question mark behind the Hello.

-*-

A simple question mark drew itself next to one of the monsters making him look more inquisitive than scary. Gemma bit her lip trying not to laugh during her English class.

Poor little guy, he was more confused that she was. Probably wondering why she had tried to erase him from her arm.

-*-

Could you not use a permanent marker? These monsters will never come off.

Neat full circles looped across the top of his arm before one of his monsters came back to him in bright pink sharpie. Obviously traced.

Oh, it’s on.

Pulling out his VERY permanent maker Peter started to draw.

-*-

“Shit” Gemma hissed as the huge dick and balls appeared on her hand. The shaft stretching from her hand down to her wrist.

“Miss Gemma? Is there something you would like to say to the class?”

Quickly she hid her hand under her desk “nope.”

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing sister”

“Then pull up your hands” as Gemma slowly planted her hands on the desk the nun gasped “GEMMA!”

“It’s not me!”

“Who else would do that? And when because I don’t remember seeing any phallic images on you before”

“I…”

“Detention”

Tossing her books and supplies into her backpack Gemma stood up walking off to detention, Sister Maryann stopped her handing her a bar of soap. Gemma looked down at it wondering where in the hell she had even been hiding that. Although Sister Maryann was known for washing kids mouths out with soap when they “took the Lord's name in vain” so maybe this was the mouth soap.

-*-

Actual size Bold thick and large lettering hung over a small dick laying limp on the same hand he had drawn his own gorgeous penis drawing.

Which of course, appeared right as he was flirting with Suzie, the cutest girl in school.

“You have something on your hand…” the pretty brunette said nodding toward Peter’s hand which was holding her own as he “explained” the best way to use a joystick on the newest arcade game that had been put in across the street from their high school.

“Are you kidding me!?!” Peter said pulling his hand quickly away, “Freak used permanent marker too”

“What did it say?” Suzie giggled trying to get a look at his hand as her jock boyfriend walked up throwing an arm over her.

“What up Petey?”

“His hand just got this weird mark on it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep, got to go, see you both later fellow classmates,” Peter said saluting before dashing off probably a little faster than he should have.

“This asshole” he hissed as he quickly ran his hand under the water trying to rub it off face slightly flushed with embarrassment over having the girl of his dreams see it. And they had been getting along so well too!

Oh it was on now.

-*-

“This asshole” Gemma laughed as she scrubbed her arm with the hard bar of soap. Leave it to Sister Maryann to have the magic cure for something that shouldn’t be cured. While her hand was now rubbed raw from scrubbing, the large dick was no longer scrolled across her hand and the monsters were all but faded away.

Letting out a triumphant laugh she looked into the mirror a huge smile on her face.

Which faded into shock as her reflection looked back at her.

Her face with a huge twisted mustache drawn across her upper lip.

“SON OF A BITCH!”

Soulmate my ass. This person was the devil incarnate.

-*-

Nothing.

Peter checked everywhere, even stripping down to make sure there wasn’t anything written on… his precious bits.

But no. Nothing came up.

Guess he had won.

Something he through of proudly as he continued to doodle across his arms and legs. He never wrote on his face again and kept things mostly contained.

Although he would draw the occasional risque image in a fun place just to see if he would get a reaction.

Not that he cared.

Not that it mattered.

It wasn’t like the thought of having someone out there that he could always talk to, was always there no matter what was something he wanted.

Nope, not at all.

Although when the cuts and bruises started to form he got a little worried. They got worse as time went on. Large hand size bruises and burns running all over his body. It was as if whoever that was on the other side was part of some fight club or something.

During that time was the only time he truly addressed them.

Are you ok?

-*-

Gemma rubbed her arm nervously as she walked through Xavier's school for gifted children. Led by the man himself it, Charles Xavier.

She didn’t belong here, among the heroes. After being brainwashed to become nothing more than a weapon in some twisted man’s army Gemma felt like the silly catholic school girl who had a closeted love for Heavy Metal music was like a stranger to her. In her place was this strange woman now walking through a fog of uncertainty.

The words Are you ok had almost faded from her arm but she had refused to wash it away. It had been a reminder that morning that something may have been wrong. That maybe those strange dreams she was having and those wounds she was waking up with were maybe not just nothing.

That small warning that had been the tipping point. An almost literal wakeup call that had ended with her coming to this place filled with other mutants. People who had helped set her free from her prison. Break free from the mind control she had been under.

And faced with the reality of what she had unknowingly done under that man’s control she had no idea where to go from there.

Where did she belong?

-*-

It was faint but Peter saw it as she pointed toward the library asking Charles a question. Faded little gray letters, rushed and fast, scribbled across her underarm.

He didn’t need to know what they said, he already knew.

-*-

Turn Around

Gemma blinked in confusion as the bold messy words flashed onto her hand.

What?

How?

Turning she saw him, the speedster, Peter, standing a few feet behind her, a permanent marker in his hand with a huge smile on his face.

“Hello.”

Shock.

It washed over her like cold water.

For years she had wondered who that total ass was who had continued to plague her body with drawings. Her once perfect record marred with endless visits to the principle and detention. Gemma had always been a fly under the radar kind of girl, just be middle of the road and go unseen. Yet all those colorful drawings and even more colorful words had made her stand out in ways she had never dreamed of.

Who was that person? Why were they doing this? How come they didn’t seem to care? After all, it was clear there was someone else was getting marred by those drawings.

A million questions flew through her mind and even more memories.

Yet nothing seemed to come out.

“Bet you never thought you would be this lucky,” Peter said running his fingers through his silver hair. “I mean you basically hit the jackpot of soulmates.”

“You…” her hands flickered with energy, emotions building up inside her spilling out, “total ASS!”

Peter went flying across the hallway as she shot him, not enough to hurt him just kind of give him a taste of what he had been doing to her for the past 8ish years.

“Could you two maybe…. I guess not” Charles groaned as Gemma’s second blast missed a much wiser Peter, blowing up a beautiful 16th-century vase.

“It took me a WEEK to wash off that stupid dick you drew across my chest! And that during prom weekend”

Peter was laughing as he grabbed Gemma taking her outside where they could hash this out somewhere safe.

“So what kind of dress did you wear to prom?” Peter asked looking her over trying to picture it, a cute little red (or maybe blue to match her eyes) dress with a big of black dick drawn up her chest the tip peeking out of the collar.

“A cardigan thanks to you.”

“Awww what’s the fun in that?”

“I went to a Catholic school.”

Peter stood there for a moment the image of her in a little catholic uniform covered in his demon and phallic drawings was just…

Perfect.

“Jesus Christ you didn’t!?!” he doubled over laughing as she watched him trying to fight back a smile. Honestly, after everything she had been through the memories of her trying to scrub off little devils and titties off her arms and legs felt almost…

Comforting.

As annoying as they were, those drawings had kind of been comforting. They set her apart, let her know (as weird as he was) there was someone out there that was all her’s. Yes the dicks and the tits were annoying but there were also some pretty cool song lyrics that had helped her to discover music she hadn’t heard before.

He was like her annoying little secret that broke out away from the everydayness of her very normal life.

Plus she had to admit, it was a pretty funny image looking back.

Not that she would EVER admit any of this to him. At least not right now.

“You owe me big.”

“Oh, Gemma I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Why do I get the feeling your idea of making it up to me is going to be different than what mean?”

“Maybe being soulmates always means you can read my mind?” he said leaning forward wagging his eyebrows. Gemma couldn’t help but laugh up at him as he took a step back holding out his hand.

“Friends?”

“Friends.”

As she took his hand Gemma had a feeling that much like the first time those little monsters appeared on her arms, her life was going to be filled with many more surprises.

-GET TAGGED!-

Tagging: @royslittleharper @the-shadow-of-atlantis @coffee-randomness @daisyboobear @nilthanious @jason-redhood @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr @ocelysium @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep

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write-my-dreams · 6 years

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Jay Tim Day 1: The Toughest Job

Title: The Toughest Job

Author: write-my-dreams @ tumblr/Ao3

Pairing: JayTim

Genre: Canon, action

Warning: Some violence and cursing

Chapter(s): 1/1

Summary: Jason is none too pleased when Bruce calls him and wakes him up. Irritation turns to urgency when Bruce tells him Black Mask has put a hit out on Tim, who has no idea what's going on. Jason suits up and goes to Tim's rescue.

Read it on AO3

Jason groans into his pillow as Bruce’s ringtone blares in his ear. The hell does he want? He considers ignoring the call to go back to sleep. Except Bruce rarely contacts him unless there’s some sort of problem. Things are better between them, but tensions still remain. Jason gropes for the phone without raising his head. “What?” he growls into it.

“Where are you?”

“In bed.” Jason turns over onto his back with another groan. “If it’s my turn to pick up your demon spawn kid, tell him to get a ride from Dick. It’s too early. Call me later.”

“Get up!” Bruce orders.

The urgency in his voice startles Jason into obedience. “What’s going on? Is someone injured?” Fuck, please don’t tell him someone’s dead.

“Suit up and go to Tim. Now. Barbara caught word of a planned assassination for him. Lucius says Tim’s already left the office for his work lunch at the Royal Swan. He isn’t answering his phone so I have no way of contacting him. You’re the closest one to the restaurant. Keep Tim safe.”

Jason comes to full alertness the moment “assassination” reaches his ears. “Royal Swan. Got it.” He presses the phone to his ear with his shoulder and grabs his uniform. “Does Babs know who it is? Deathstroke, Deadshot, some other well known hitman?”

“Slade wouldn’t take a hit on Tim.”

Not if he wants to get in Dick’s pants ever again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“She doesn't know who the assassin will be. Only that they were hired by Roman Sionis.”

Jason’s fingers tighten around his gun holsters. “Black Mask? Why the hell is Black Mask going after Tim?” If Roman fucking Sionis succeeds in harming a single hair on Tim’s head Jason will take great pleasure in gunning him down.

Bruce sighs. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“The Red Hood will pay him a visit tonight,” Jason says grimly.

“As will Batman.”

Jason smirks as he pictures the fear on Sionis’ face behind that mask. A pissed off Red Hood and Batman interrogating him? They’ll have Sionis singing like a bird in no time. “Good. I’ll call you once I’ve got Tim. Leaving now.”

“Be careful.” The line goes dead before Jason can say anything in response. He pockets his phone and grabs his boots. He finishes putting on his chest armor, jacket, and helmet on the way to his bike. He knows how to keep his composure during tense situations. So he is not panicking as he drives to the Royal Swan well over the speed limit in broad daylight. It’s rare for any of the Bats to come out during the day. Jason doesn’t give a fuck what passersby think. The two police cars he zooms by must recognize him since neither officer pursues him for speeding. Smart move.

Jason reaches the restaurant just as Tim’s cherry red sports car pulls into the parking lot. He’s off his motorcycle the second he parks it. Tim steps out of the car looking way too sexy for his own good. Today he’s wearing a charcoal suit over a white dress shirt and the blue tie Jason gave him for his birthday last year.

Tim stops in his tracks when he sees Jason. His eyes widen in surprise. “You’re the Red Hood. What… What are you doing here? During the day?” He plays his part well by backing up, looking nervous as he clutches the door.

“You’re in danger.”

“From the Red Hood?”

“No, from Black Mask. I’m here to protect you.” Jason scans the buildings around him. Offices, apartments, a shopping mall. The killer could be anywhere and have a number of ways to take down Tim. Poisoning the food or drinks inside the Royal Swan, shooting from the rooftops or the windows, bombing the restaurant if subtlety is no concern. Jason lowers his voice in case anyone can hear them. “Oracle heard about it. Who are you meeting?”

Tim frowns. “Colonel Raymond Hayes from the army. Why?”

The name means nothing to Jason. He scans the area again, looking for the clues Bruce and Dick taught him. There! “Get down!” He seizes Tim’s shoulder and forcefully drags him down to take shelter behind the car. A bullet strikes where Tim’s head had been moments ago. “Fuck,” Jason curses as he tightens his grip on Tim.

Tim lays his hand on Jason’s arm. “We need to get the assassin away from the restaurant. Innocent lives are in danger while I’m here.”

“You think?” Jason snaps. “Give me your keys then get in the back. Stay down. I’ll drive us out of here.”

Tim knows better than to protest. He stays low as he opens the back door and crawls in behind the driver’s seat. Jason grits his teeth as he hears two more shots hit the car. The rear passenger window shatters from a third. He throws himself into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. The tires screech as he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road. Jason grips the steering wheel tightly as he runs through a red light, leaving a trail of angry drivers and honking cars behind.

“Hood,” Barbara says in his com. “I saw you on the security footage. You have Tim?”

“He’s safe. Let B know that.” Jason tears his eyes away from the road when Tim climbs into the passenger seat. “The hell? I told you to stay in the back!”

Tim gives him a withering look. “Roman Sionis didn’t hire the League of Assassins. There’s one shooter. Unless he has speedster powers he’s not going to catch up to you when you’re driving. What does he want with me anyway?”

“Hell if I know.” Jason speeds through another red light and swerves to avoid an oncoming car. He ignores the honking and screeching of tires. “Did you hack into his bank accounts or find something incriminating?”

“As Red Robin. Not as Tim Drake.”

Jason tenses as he sees a police car in the rearview mirror driving straight towards them. He seizes the back of Tim’s neck and pushes him down again so he’s bent over his legs. Jason ducks as the masked “officer” opens fire on the car. The back window shatters and he hears a tire give. Jason swerves down a side road with an ugly curse. No way in hell will Tim get hurt on his watch. Not when he’s yet to tell Tim how he feels about him.

Barbara speaks again. “Turn at the first left. Go through the next three intersections, turn right, then go over the bridge. I’ll keep the way clear for you.”

“Got it.” Jason realizes he’s still holding the back of Tim’s neck. He releases him to grip the wheel again, following Barbara’s instructions. Thanks to her guidance they’re able to lose their pursuer in spite of the tire.

Jason doesn’t relax until they’re inside his nearest safe house with the garage door down and security active. He shuts off the engine and turns to Tim. “Are you okay?” Jason cups his cheek to examine his eyes, turning his head from side to side then looking him over to ensure he hasn’t sustained any injuries. No concussion, no broken glass on him, no blood on his clothes.

Tim bats his hand away. “I’m fine, Jay. Thanks to your quick actions. Shit. I had no idea any of this was going down.”

“Where’s your phone? Bruce tried calling you to warn you. You didn’t answer.”

Tim’s pale cheeks flush. “I, uh, forgot it at the penthouse.”

Jason sighs. “Seriously? You were so sleep deprived you didn’t think to grab your phone and take it with you?”

Tim’s silence is all the answer he needs.

Jason mutters a curse and shoots a text to Bruce. “Tim and I are at my safe house. Neither of us are injured. Tells Babs I owe her one.” Tim’s car is the only thing to sustain damage. Jason drops his phone onto his lap and looks at Tim again. “Black Mask isn’t smart enough to figure out you’re Red Robin. Did he ask you on a date or something and you rejected him?”

Tim glares at him. “You think he’d be alive if he did something like that? Ra’s would separate him from his head! And for your information, no, I’ve never had any contact with Black Mask in my civilian identity.” He gets out of the car and scrubs a hand down his face. “Shit,” he says again. “I have no idea why he’d target me. Is he trying to get to Bruce?”

Jason frowns. “It’s possible, but not really his style. I don’t like this one bit.”

“You think I appreciate being shot at in my civilian identity?” Tim runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Guess I’m not having lunch with Raymond Hayes. Thanks for that, by the way. He’s the latest on a long list who wants Wayne Enterprises to sell tech to the military.” He glances up when Jason approaches him. “Bruce sent you to be my bodyguard?”

“I was closest.” Jason hesitates before taking off his helmet. Tim is alive and well. What better time to tell him? It’s now or never. “And… he knows.”

Tim blinks. “Knows what?”

Jason wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake. It’s not too late! He can back out, come up with a lame excuse. He looks into those big blue eyes and feels his defenses crumbling. Tim can never know the effect a single look has on Jason or he’ll lord it over him forever. Finally, he comes clean. “He knows I’m in love with you.”

The confession catches Tim off guard. His eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back. “You’re what?”

“I’m in love with you, Tim. I hate seeing you hurt. I’d do anything to keep you safe. To make up for what I’ve done to you in the past.” Jason contemplates throwing himself out the window if his confession turns Tim against him. Tim is gorgeous, intelligent, and best friends with Superboy. If Jason does anything to Tim, Kon will find a way to maim him.

Tim’s cheeks turn pink. “I… never knew you thought of me that way. I thought you and Roy were together.”

“Roy’s my best friend. I care about him, but I wouldn’t date him. Especially since my type happens to be Robins.” Jason can admit to having a crush on Dick in the past. Who hasn’t had a crush on Dick Grayson though? He’s ridiculously attractive and a great guy. Though with that temper he can easily live up to his nickname.

Tim steps forwards, pulling him out of his musing. “Robins huh?”

Jason closes his eyes. “Look, I know you don’t like me back. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just… wanted to get it off my chest. I guess.”

“Jason, stop. You never gave me a chance to tell you what my type is or how I feel about you.”

His breath catches. “What?”

Tim lays a hand over the bat symbol on Jason’s chest. “I like you too, dummy. I thought you were dating Roy so I never said anything.”

Jason blinks. “You mean Roy cockblocked me and we weren’t even in a relationship?”

“Dick thought you were.”

“Well he was wrong! Roy and I are not dating. I’d like to date you if you’d let me.” Why does everyone think he and Roy are a couple? Because they’re the family screw-ups who get along great, work together, and are good friends in and out of their uniforms? Okay, so it makes sense. Still, he’s never viewed Roy with any romantic interest. Not when Tim’s been around. Tim with his soft hair, that nerdy glint in his eye when he talks about Star Trek and science fiction, his fondness for wandering around the manor in leggings and shirts he stole from other family members…

Tim laughs softly. “Well, Romeo, you did save me from an assassination attempt. I think you deserve a kiss for that.”

Before Jason can respond, Tim is up on tiptoe kissing him. He wraps one hand around the back of Jason’s neck as he presses closer. Tim’s lips are so soft. Jason puts his hands on Tim’s waist to hold him against him as they kiss.

Black Mask is so getting the ass kicking of his life for sending assassins after Tim. Jason won’t kill him though. Yet. If not for this whole situation and the urgent call to protect Tim, Jason knows he wouldn’t have confessed. Now he has. Tim is safe and warm in his arms, they’re together now, and they’re going to take Black Mask down.

After Jason yells at Dick for telling Tim he and Roy were dating.

#jaytim week 2018 #jaytim week #jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #fanfiction #write-my-dreams wrote this

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herstarburststories · 6 years

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There's always someone to love you ✘ Dark!Barry|Savitar Imagine ✘

✘ A/N: Hope you like it! Thanks for my beta, @lyss-91, as always ♡ And tumblr isn't letting my put the title, bleh.

✘ @lookclosernow's request: Savitar? Maybe you were his love and he wanted to destroy everything because after your happy life together you said that you didn't love him! (It's not try maybe it was your doppelgänger or smth) and I need flashback where you broke his heart ❤ And then when he is evil you came and said about your real feeling. And happy end! Thank you 😊

Beaches are cozy and clean, until people start throwing litter at them. Damaging it to the point of turning them into something completely unorganized, even dangerous.

People are like beaches. They come into the world completely pure, and some people throw dirt on them until end up with something bad.

That's what happened to Savitar.

He was a good man, he really was. Until everyone around him began to abandon him and treat him as a stranger, as a disposable, a mistake which shouldn't have even be committed.

Savitar's way of feeling could be explained, but never fully understood. He was a mistake on his own in the world. The people who claimed to love him discarded and replaced him, and Savitar sacrificed himself for them.

He was willing to die for them, and they killed him in the worst way possible.

"Bar— Savitar!" Savitar heard a familiar voice call. He turned around himself, waiting for you to approach him.

"Do you want to tell me I'm a mistake again?" Savitar said like a snake loosening its bitter venom.

"What the hell are you talking about!? What the fuck is your problem, anyway!?" You answered in frustration, almost catching how Savitar's eyes widened quickly and his eyebrow arched in surprise. "Seriously, holy shit. You've been doing this, these stupid puzzles and with... With missing the essential bits!" You normally didn't have a taste for using ugly words like this, maybe a fucking once or twice, but not like that; unless she was frustrated, sad or 100% angry. "From the day we met, you made these sadistic games, torturing each of us mentally until we discovered your identity. Well, your sadomasochistic game worked, we found out. But what's your problem with me? I've never hurt, Barry. I would never hurt, even in this alternative past where you came from." You sighed, running your hands through your hair and tossing them back in exasperation.

"I'd forgotten how dirty that cute little mouth of yours could be." Savitar replied simply, with a smirk painted on his lips. "Let me refresh your memory, you were even worse than Team Flash." He spoke the name with contempt, as if all your friends deserved the fate he had sealed for them. "You stayed with me just to break me even more, maybe I should kill you after Iris only for petulance against your god!" Savitar masked his fucked heart with his power, as he had learned long time ago.

"You're not a god!" You exclaimed and he approached you. His hand touched the skin of your cheek as if it were an ice sculpture, fragile and painful to the touch, and yet beautiful, so beautiful that it made that physical agony from touching worth it.

"I'll be one, and everyone will regret what they did to me." Savitar smiled like a madman, and all you could do was feel your heart beating with exaggerated speed inside your rib cage. You told yourself it was fear, even though your brain was pounding and screaming that it was not exactly that.

"What have I done to you?" You sighed, caught in the contact with those frighteningly comforting eyes, even with the aesthetic change.

"The worst thing a goddess could do to a god." Savitar answered as gently as was posible to him, and you could almost touch the pain in the syllables of his words. "You left me."

Savitar pulled away from you, and you knew he was getting ready to run and leave you with one more unanswered question, but you were done with it. It was time to understand what the hell was going on.

"Tell me everything, tell me every little thing I've done to make you hate me so much." Savitar, who had his back to you at that moment, finally turned to you. "Please."

"Hey, babe." Savitar, still Barry, said when he heard a noise in the front door, avoiding to turn to give a smile to his girlfriend. The way his face was still kept him insecure, even with (Y/N) saying that he was still as beautiful as ever to her. Barry did not even understand how she could kiss him, smile at him, caress him and fuck with him, all those normal couple things. When they went outside, Barry could feel their eyes on him, judging, belittling, utterly angry. He had to admit that he understood these people, no matter how miserable that left his emotional, Barry was disgusted with himself, too. And the only person in the world who could make him see the beauty in himself was you, the love of his life, the moon of his sky. The only person who crossed her arms and kicked her feet when he said he was thinking of doing plastic surgery, because you knew how dangerous it could be, that he could catch an infection or something, and you preferred him alive than in a hospital bed sick, fighthing for his own life. Besides being beautiful, even with the scar, you always said. "So I've been researching and..." But it was still difficult for him to deal with himself every morning. "I found a plastic clinic in Keystone. It's not very expensive and it's new, but it has several people with positive results." A anormal sound at your apartamemt was heard, and Barry almost frowned at it, you hated high heels because they left your feet aching, weird you wear them in Monday morning. He didn't think much about it, maybe you just woke up and wanted to wear high heels.

You finally got yourself into his gaze, generating confusion in his head. Did you mention that you were going to dye your hair? Not that you needed to say everything you were going to do, of course, but that was strange, especially because of the clothes that were completely contrary to your style, you looked like a villain from a 60s' movie.

Althrough the worst thing was the look you gave to him: surprised, and yet, as if you were disgusted with what was seeing. You've never looked at him that way, like Team Flash and the people on the street. That was the first crack in his heart that day.

"Your hair looks beautiful." He praised it because it was true and he should just be paranoid again.

"I know." The coldness in your voice was worse than Killer Frost's ice kiss. And your cheeks were not blushed with his praise? And without a small smile or a quick peck on his lips? You did even look like yourself. And it was paranoia and anxiety or you were staring at the burn on his face so far? Anyway, those factors together formed the recipe for Barry to look away, suddenly embarrassed of himself.

"I know you don't want me to do plastic surgery because of the risks, bu..." Barry continued, trying to shift to a subject in which he had been trying to get your support for weeks.

"Risks?"

"I know, it's more than risk, I promise I heard what you said. I can get an infection, the surgery can go wrong and my face get deformed, but..." Your giggle, in fact, laugh, stopped his mouth. He looked at you in confusion, your eyes were almost crying of that hard laughing.

"I don't know if you looked at yourself in the mirror recently, but you're completely screwed. How come you live knowing your face is like this? You don't go outside, do you? I'm just saying, people can get annoyed by... this lil problem." She rolled her eyes. "It's disgusting, really. How could I love you?" Again, the snow-like smile graced her red lips, and her coldness was transferred to her own words. "Breaking news, I never loved you. If you'll excuse me, I have to go home."

Barry couldn't walk, breathe or talk for at least fifteen minutes after you left. How could you say those things to him? You had been the only anchor which kept him from plunging into the darkness of pain for so long, and now you just drowned him there.

It took a while for Barry to notice that there were tears coming out of his eyes and touching his burn, causing an immeasurable pain, but he could not get the salt water off his face. His whole body trembled, Barry tried to breathe, althorugh it seemed almost impossible. It was like those panic attacks he had a few times when he was a kid after his mother was murdered.

Barry's condition was deplorable, and he couldn't help himself. He tried to get up, run, scream, yet he just fell to the ground, one act that the speedster considered like a human weakness. Barry gave up fighting and gave himself that moment, only his sobs were heard as his body was agonizing on the floor.

You, the moon of his night, thought he was disgusting.

And the light was completely erased.

Savitar stared at the floor, didn't feel right to talk about that moment with anyone, especially the being that had caused it in him, but the god's speed just couldn't really say no to the only that had the remaining pieces of the stone that was once his heart.

"Oh, Lord." You said in shock, your eyes wet with his truth, it was painful just thinking. "I... It was not me." You finally managed to say the words that were struggling to get out of your throat a few minutes ago.

"It was you, even if you do not remember it." Savitar snapped back, ready to leave you again.

"It was not me." You sniffed and he took a step forward, a little further from you, and it smashed your heart, and the confirmation of you having helped him to have his soulbroken worsened the sensation in your chest. "I ... I remember this version of me. Not of this reality, of course, but from the past that I remember, this one was a duplicate from another earth, sent to kill The Flash. But she was a sadistic little bitch and screwed the whole team's life before we get her." You explained, and Savitar didn't answer. "You... Did you get those memories of Barry? Of that me?"

"I did, but it was after I became who I am. I denied all the memories that involved you, didn't want to think about things related that day.I did not think... "

"That there really was someone who loved you? Someone who would never leave you or hurt you like this?" You took a step forward, insecure but determined. The old popular saying that your mother used to say hammering in your guts: go, and if you're afraid, you're keep going. "I'm still here." You put a hand on his shoulder gently, and Savitar turned to you. You could finally see the vulnerability spreading all over his face and body. You put your hand on his scar, trying to show that you were not angry. You loved every bit of him, even if he hated it, especially when he hated it. "I still love you." You made the confirmation of your suffering as gently as you could, and you received your reward as he closed his eyes and leaned unconsciously toward you. You gave a warm smile, the hope was still there. "It's not too late."

Because you always knew that people were like beaches, and that beaches could be completely detonated. But its beauty would always be hidden behind the horrible things they've been through, and with the right work... They could shine again.

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neon-mooni · 7 years

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The Flash season 3: Let’s talk about Savitar and Barry

So if you don’t know who Savitar is by now, then this is your spoiler alert.

Savitar is a time remnant of Barry Allen. Savitar's existence is the result of a causal loop that involved Iris West's death, as after he was created the time remnant was shunned by the members of Team Flash. Broken and utterly alone, the remnant desired to end his pain by becoming a god. Renaming himself after the Hindu God of Motion, he has proclaimed himself to be the "God of Speed", the fastest known speedster in the Multiverse; additionally he is known as the "Dark Lord" within his own cult. When battling a younger version of his original self, Savitar subtly refers to himself as the "Future Flash". When possessing someone, Savitar is known as "Alchemy", the high-priest of his own cult. Desiring to kill his original self, Savitar was defeated and trapped in the Speed Force. Spending an eternity inside the Speed Force, he planned his escape by tricking Wally West into taking his place in the Speed Force prison, allowing him to resume his war with the Flash and kill Iris to ensure his existence. Savitar later forms an alliance with Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost during which his identity and the origin of his existence become known to Team Flash.

Here he is for most of the season.

And finally, here is his face.

Without further ado, let’s get into this.

Savitar was a huge villain this season. Regularly dubbing himself as a God, Savitar was this unstoppable force. Savitar was a menace. He was unstoppable, but most of all, he was broken. Let’s take a moment to talk about how Team Flash treats our Barry.

#1 They locked him in a cage when he was greiving, instead of comforting him in his grief.

#2 Flashpoint: When Barry created Flashpoint, he was greiving. He had just lost his father, and in one moment of grief he decided to go back in time to the day that his mom was killed, and save her instead. Then, when Barry’s memories started disappearing, he had to go back in time, and let his mother get killed again. Did Team Flash care about that? Of course not. They were too busy chewing Barry out for the changes that he did to the timeline to even listen to his side of the story.

Oh, and here’s the real kicker. They encouraged Barry to save his mom in season 1, but in season 3, when he actually does it, suddenly Barry is the bad guy. Hypocrite much?

#3 Savitar

Team Flash rejected Savitar because he was a time remnant. If this is how they treat our Barry, I would hate to see how they treated his time remnant.

#4 2024

2024 Joe blames Barry for abandoning him after Iris's death when the actual truth is, is that Joe abandoned him first. He knew that The Flash and Barry hadn't been seen in years, so shouldn't the first thing on his mind be: Gee I hope Barry is alright, and not "Barry abandoned us"? But what would I expect after the way they locked Barry in a cage when he was greiving? Team Flash has never cared about Barry’s grief.

#5 The Dominators

Cisco chose to reveal the secret message from Future Barry at a time when the world was in danger to make Barry look like the bad guy.

#6 Dante

Cisco knows blooming well that it was a drunk driver that killed Dante. Instead of thinking rationally, Cisco blames Barry for Dante's death because somehow going back in time made Barry the one that killed Dante instead of the drunk driver.

#7 Cisco is a hypocrite

Cisco spends months tearing Barry down for going back in time and accidentally causing a butterfly effect. You want to know what really made my blood boil?

Cisco took his own little trip in time and caused a butterfly effect with the dominators. Cisco is the reason that the dominators showed up in the first place. So it’s okay when Cisco goes back in time and causes a butterfly effect, but when Barry does the same thing he’s the bad guy?

#8 Killer Frost

Cisco didn't even care that Barry's life was in danger when Killer Frost froze him. He just ran straight to her, without even stopping to make sure that he was alright first.

#9 The lack of speedster strength pain killers

I wish that Team Flash would actually create speedster strength painkillers instead of spending all of five minutes talking about it. One day Barry might get injured enough that he might need surgery or even anesthesia, and they haven't developed either one that would work with Barry's metabolism.

And now let’s talk about how much of a hypocrite the Legends are.

They chew Barry out for messing around in time and changing things, when they do the very same thing. So let me get this straight, it’s okay for every one else to mess around in time and change things, but when Barry does it he’s the bad guy? What the hell?

Many people were shocked about Savitar’s true identity but I was not.

I first started to suspect that Barry was Savitar when Savitar came out and said “I am the future flash”. Honestly, how else could that have been interpreted? He point blank told you that he is The Future Flash.

Also let’s do a little color comparisons shall we?

Future Flash’s color scheme from the comics:

Savitar’s color scheme:

Look familiar anyone?

Also, Savitar seemed to have quite a bit of knowledge of Team Flash, and their futures for someone who Team Flash has supposedly never met.

Also, I always wondered what really happened to Barry’s time remnant.

As we saw with Eliza, she turned blue before she died.

If the time remnant really had died in season 2, then why didn’t he also turn blue? Also, if he really had died, then how was Barry not wiped out of existence right then, and there?

As we saw when Barry went back in time in season 1, that version of Barry was wiped from existence. Therefore, I have to assume that had the time remnant really died, then our Barry would have been erased from existence too.

Also, I had to ask, if Savitar really wanted to kill Iris, then why didn’t he just kill our Barry? Problem solved right? Answer: Because he would’ve wiped himself out of existence.

My suspicions were raised when Killer Frost met Savitar for the first time. You have to wonder why she was willing to trust Savitar so easily. It obviously had to be someone that she knows, and would trust 100%. Now Ronnie was not a speedster, so that means that there was only one person left that it could possibly be: Barry Allen.

When they revealed that Wally was fast enough to get to Savitar to stop him from killing Iris, I figured that was it. I figured that Wally would end up taking him down, but that didn’t happen.

You know, it really shows Barry’s character when he was willing to give Savitar a second chance.

When that happened, I was hoping that Savitar would get a redemption arc, but that didn’t happen either.

Instead what happened was that Iris takes him down with a gun.

I’m sorry, but, as powerful as Savitar was, there was no way in hell that he would have been taken down that easily. I’m sorry, but Savitar’s death was cheap. It was pathetic, and it sucked.

Also, Savitar being a time remnant in its self was highly disappointing. I wholeheartedly believe that because of the way Team Flash treats Barry, that Savitar is what Barry turns into one day. With all the shit that Barry has been through, he’s going to snap one day, and when he does, Savitar will be the result of that.

#The flash #Barry Allen #Savitar #Tbh I'm still salty about Savitar's cheap death

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sports-and-fandoms · 7 years

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“Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’!”

Hey guys! Finally, part 4 is out! This is the one we have all been waiting for. I hope you guys like this one. Will Jim marry Carol or not.

Warning: angst, fluff, Jim Kirk’s blue eyes, cursing. Angry Bones is a warning. Some weird southern expression.

Words: 936 words, it’ll be longer next time. Promise.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Here we go!! Happy reading!

The church was silent, until someone in the far back coughed a little.

Everyone was staring at Jim. The pastor, the guests, the groomsmen, and Carol. Carol Marcus, soon to be Mrs. Kirk, was waiting for her future husband to finally utter those two words. The two words that would bind them together for eternity.

But Jim was silent like the dead of night.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought.

He couldn’t take it anymore, this is getting out of hand, he thought.

Putting his feelings for Y/N aside, he tried really hard to be happy about this whole thing, but it was just such an idiotic idea. A couple more seconds and it would be too late. He had to do something before it was too late.

“I repeat, James Tiberius Kirk, do you take Carol Marcus to be your lawfully wedded wife, til death do you part? “

A few more seconds of silence.

Damn it, Jim!

“No he does not!“

Gasps rang throughout the small church.

Everyone turned to look at the best man, Leonard McCoy.

Leonard McCoy was not the most patient man, no not at all. Yet, he had put up with this shit for just over 3 years. Three years of watching his two best friends pinning for each other but pretending not to. Three years of watching a stupid blue eyed blond ignore the best thing that ever happened to him, except him of course because if it wasn’t for Bones Jim would be partying with Satan now.

On one hand, was his best friend since his early days at the academy, on the other, was the woman that anyone would die to be with. Y/N was one of a kind. Although he would never say out loud, he had a small crush on the smart doctor. But Jim, he was completely and utterly in love with her. Worse of all, he didn’t even know it.

“You heard me. This has gone long enough!“

“Bones-“

“No, you. You just shut up. Just- just shut up. I have watched you lie to everyone and yourself for the past three years. THREE YEARS Jim!! No more! Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’, Jim! Stop lyin’! For three years, I had to hear you go on and on about your feelings. And let me tell you this, hearing you yapper about every single argument you’ve ever had with Carol, and about how much you miss being friends with Y/N has not been the highlight of my life. Damn it man, I’m a Doctor not a RELATIONSHIP COUNSELLOR! “

“Bones-“

“Just shut up Jim. I’m not done! Have I told you that you are the stupidest man I know. I don’t even know how I’m friends with you. I must have been really, really drunk the day I first met you. My God, man! For three years, as your best friend, I have put up with this stupid idea, hell, I’ve been doing it since the first time we met. But now, I’m done! There’s an old Georgian saying Jim: “When the Lord was handin’ out brains, that fool thought God said trains, and he passed ‘cause he don’t like to travel”. You’ve been missing out on the woman of your life, your ENTIRE life. You’ve been friends with her for two DECADES and you still haven’t realized that she’s the one for you. If that ain’t stupidity, I don’t know what is.“

He paused for a second. Jim thought Bones was done, so he opened his mouth to say something, but Bones continued.

“Look Jim. If you still want to marry Carol, go ahead but I just had to tell you before you do this. As much as I hate your guts sometimes, you’re still my best friend. I’ll support you, no matter who you choose, but know this. Out of respect, I didn’t make a move on Y/N, and I was sure you would wake up and make your move. But if you marry Marcus, then I’m going for her.“

For once in his life, Jim Kirk was speechless. What does one say to this?

A few moments passed, Jim’s mind whirled with hundreds of possibilities.

Finally, he made his decision.

Jim was going to say the two words that would change everyone’s lives for ever.

“I…“

“Captain.”

Jim’s gaze shifted to his trusty First Officer, Spock.

“We have a problem, sir.“

“Now what, Spock! I have to say I-“

“Sir, Starfleet HQ was just attacked. At least 10 people have died, and countless others have been injured.“

“Spock-“

Carol screeched. {A.N Imagine an annoying bird. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really like her… }

“ON MY WEDDING DAY! Please Mr. Spock, not now. We are about to get married, and-“

“Commander Y/L/N is amongst the injured. I have just received news that she’s in critical condition, and…“

“And? And what, Spock?“

“An old acquaintance of mine is treating her, Doctor M’Benga. He was the one that informed me of her presence in the hospital, and-“

“Straight to the point, Spock!“

Jim wouldn’t say it out loud, but Bones knew he was panicking.

“M’Benga doesn’t know if she’ll make it. Nyota and I are leaving for Starfleet now, you are free to come along, Sir.“

“Jim, I’m going too.”

“Bones-“

“Jim, M’Benga is gonna need all the help he can get. Now the decision is yours, are you coming with us or are you getting married to Carol?“

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just- I have to do this. I promised her.”

“I’m sorry Carol.“

Yo Cliffhanger, DUNDUNDUNNNNNNNN! Ok so, I had another sleepless night and I have already planned the next two parts. I just have to find the time to write… My aunt is visiting from Ireland, I haven’t seen her in over 9 years… Moreover, I have another aunt and an uncle plus their family and my grandparents coming over this Thursday. They’re staying till next week so I don’t know if I’ll be able to update soon. That is why I’m giving you guys a small gift. Finally, Jim is leaving Carol’s blond butt at the altar! Yayyyy!!!!! Or is he…? *Insert Law and Order Dun Dun*

Thanks for reading!!

Tags: (Tumblr keeps leaving people out and deleting my tag lists… So If you’re not here, dm me. I always check dm before I post stuff.)

@wonders-of-the-enterprise@samaxraph99 @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @curiosity-killed-the-speedster @yourtropegirl @engineeringtrashcan @goingknowherewastaken @a-mermaid-in-space @eufeme @hayleynightcore @avengersgirllorianna @cinema212 @kaitlynw011 @champagne75 @stxrtrek @aletalks @dudahmautner

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junker-town · 5 years

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Can a team of 25 Ichiros win the World Series?

If you were to build a team with nothing but clones of a single player, which player would you choose? The correct answer is Ichiro Suzuki, and Kofie Yeboah is going to prove it.

When people talk about MVP Baseball 2005, two words always come out of their mouths.

“Jon Dowd.”

Yes, the EA Sports counter to Barry Bonds turned into a cult icon for many years after the series ended. The character became something people can talk about at networking events and water coolers to prove that they, in fact, also had a childhood. The reason why the 40-year-old wasn’t in the game was due to the fact that Bonds decided to individually license his likeness, rather than work with the MLBPA. So instead of getting dude with an iconic cross earring and a batting stance that oozes swagger, we got a guy that you can’t pick out of an Imagine Dragons lineup with the most generic batting stance.

Seriously, it literally says generic.

I used to do this anyway.

If you ask me, the best player in the game was not Jon Dowd, but Ichiro Suzuki.

While there aren’t official overall rating numbers in this game, Ichiro is listed as the 13th best player in the game behind Jon Dowd, Vladimir Guerrero, Albert Pujols, Todd Helton, Manny Ramirez, Ivan “Pudge” Rodriguez, Scott Rolen, Pedro Martinez, Johan Santana, Adrian Beltre, Randy Johnson and David Ortiz.

It makes sense when you look at this on screen, but when you actually play the video game it’s clear that Ichiro is even better than his already high overall ranking.

To showcase Ichiro’s talents and abilities, I’ve decided to make a team comprised of Ichiro clones to see if they can win the World Series.

But before I do that, let’s take a closer look at the elements that make Ichiro an absolute nightmare for the other team.

Hitting

First, I want to address the hitting mechanics in MVP Baseball 2005. As is the case with many of today’s video games, hitting is separated into contact and power. A hitter with good contact and bad power can theoretically launch the ball into orbit if the pitch is juicy enough. A big power hitter with bad contact can launch many balls into space, but have a higher risk of pop ups and long fly ball outs.

This isn’t the case with Ichiro.

Ichiro is so good at contact hitting that he could also in turn hit for power. Against left-handed pitching, he was given a power rating of 69 and a contact rating of 99. Against right-handed pitching, he was given a power rating of 58 and a contact rating of 97.

The power rating doesn’t seem that impressive until you look at some of the other players in the game. Miguel Cabrera, a player with 33 home runs in 2004, was given a 74 power rating against lefties.

Adrian Beltre — who hit 48 home runs in 2004, but only six against left-handed pitching — was given a 71 overall power rating against lefties. This decent power rating paired with godlike contact skill allowed Ichiro to have a different play style in the video game. According to Baseball-Reference.com, Ichiro had a home run to fly ball ratio of 3.8%. Let’s compare that to Barry Bo … I mean Jon Dowd, whose ratio was 24.5% in that same season.

Ratings aside, you could hit many home runs with Ichiro if you wanted. Of all the hot and cold zone displays in the game, Ichiro is one of the few players with more than 9 total hot zones out of the 18 possible.

Of those few, most are all-stars or legends who have to be unlocked in the game, so that puts Ichiro in elite company. If you gave Ichiro a high 2-seam or 4-seam fastball, there was a good chance he would tag it out of the park.

Ichiro’s power potential isn’t far-fetched either. His longest homer in the Statcast era is 432 feet. There’s even a dope video from the YouTube channel Foolish Baseball that investigates Ichiro’s power-hitting potential.

However, doing so would be disrespectful to real life Ichiro, a player who once said, “chicks who dig home runs aren’t the ones who appeal to me. I think there’s sexiness in infield hits because they require technique.”

With this newfound power, Ichiro could also hit the ball over the outfielders, who would play shallow against him on certain occasions. This allowed for normal fly balls to drop in for a hit, and gave Ichiro another chance to showcase his speed. In his case, if a ball hit the wall, it was almost always a guaranteed triple. Depending on the dimensions of the ballpark, it could be an instant home run.

My favorite part of the game was choosing a retro ballpark with absolutely wonky dimensions and watching Ichiro just go to town with his speed. It was amazing to watch. Let’s look at the Polo Grounds as an example. You see how the center field fence is 483 feet away from home plate? Trust me, this will come up later.

To test Ichiro’s power potential, I put him against Albert Pujols in the home run showdown. Even thought he lost most of the showdowns, Ichiro would often hit the same number of home runs as Albert Pujols. Here is one of the attempts. Yes, Albert won, but it shouldn’t be this close. At all.

This result had me convinced that Ichiro could actually win.

So close.

19 POINTS?! OH COME ON!

It took over 20+ tries, but Ichiro finally beat Albert in a Home Run Showdown.

Even if you didn’t want to go for the long ball, you could still wreck all kinds of havoc on the diamond. Because at the end of the day ...

Ichiro is still fast as hell.

Ichiro’s speed rating is a 97, which is a freaking nightmare for catchers, pitchers and the entire defense at the same time. The only players faster than Ichiro in this game are:

Lou Brock, and that’s it. Power didn’t dominate MVP Baseball 2005. Speed did.

If you started a fantasy dynasty of fast players, such as Scott Podsednik, Rafael Furcal, Chone Figgins, Carl Crawford and Juan Pierre, you could construct the most irritating lineup of all time.

With players like these, you were damn near guaranteed to make it to second after bunting, making it to first and then stealing. If the catcher wasn’t a top-tier thrower, they were screwed. If the pitcher took a long time delivering the ball out of the stretch, they were out of luck.

To put his speed to the test, we had Ichiro attempt to steal 100 bases against the best-throwing catcher in the game, Ivan Rodriguez (Henry Blanco was also an option). Here’s what we found whenever Ichiro tried to steal second base against the best.

If you didn’t throw your hardest fastball or pitch out, you weren’t likely to catch Ichiro. Now, a 57% steal success rate seems pretty pedestrian. Ichiro’s career steal success rate was 81%, including a whopping 85% of his attempts of third base. However, keep in mind that all of this data involves the fastest, most accurate catchers arm in the game.

Imagine if I’d used Mike Piazza.

Let’s not forget about bunting, either

The MVP Baseball drag bunt animation was quick and came out of nowhere, so there really wasn’t any tip-off to what the speedster was up to. When you give that quick of an animation to a player with a bunting rating of 99 and a speed rating of 97, you’re going to see some serious shit. Just look at this.

When you pair Ichiro’s speed with his insane hitting power, he could make some incredible plays. He could bunt for a hit and get down the line so fast that the defender wouldn’t even bother making the throw. They just gave up.

Let’s talk defense.

When you have all that speed, that’s one thing. When you have speed and an arm chiseled personally by God, there’s nothing that can stop you. On April 11th, 2001, Ichiro threw a perfect strike from right field to put the entire league on notice.

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Anyone who has seen this clip should know better than to challenge Ichiro, but for some reason people kept testing this man.

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Here are Ichiro’s fielding stats.

Remember when I said the Polo Grounds center field fence was 483 feet away from home plate? Here’s Ichiro throwing to home from that exact spot like it’s no big deal.

I think this speaks for itself.

Now, I had the idea to make a team full of Ichiros and see how far I could take them. (The first initials are there because the game forced me to enter a first name, and I wanted to tell them apart for statistical purposes.)

This leaves one unanswered question.

What about pitching?

Can Ichiro pitch? He was a pitcher in high school, but what about the professional level? The answer is yes! Luckily I had two frames of reference.

There is the time he pitched in 2015.

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And the time he pitched in the 1996 Japanese All-Star Game.

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Ichiro mainly sticks with the simple fastball-changeup combination, but the occasional breaking ball shows up.

So we have a three-pitch arsenal that we’re going to have to stick with for 162+ games. While it’s serviceable, I’m not expecting any Barry Zito-level performances.

Are we ready? I’m ready. Let’s do this.

Dynasty Time!

These are our team goals. I think we’re going to win more than 2 Silver Slugger awards and score the most runs in baseball.

April 2005: 16-8 (first in A.L. West)

After one month of play, the Seattle Ichiros are 16-8. In 24 games, three Ichiro clones are hitting .400 or higher, and seven are batting over .300.

SEVEN OF THE TOP 11 players in the stolen base category are Ichiros. Another Ichiro is leading the team with six wins and two saves already. He’s also 7th in the league in strikeouts. WHAT.

The team has combined for 72 stolen bases and has been caught stealing only 6 times. GOOD LORD. As expected, the pitching staff is marginally mediocre.

For this team however, that’s more than good enough.

May: 19-8 (35-16 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

For some reason, the Seattle Ichiros have regressed into the 29th-best pitching team in the league, but thanks to incredible hitting and fielding, we are tied for the best record in baseball. Nine Ichiros are in the top 10 for stolen bases. Everything is going well, except for R. Ichiro. We also had a trade offer for Ray Durham. Do we make a deal?

Hell no. We’re the Seattle Ichiros. All or nothing.

June: 17-9 (52-25 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

The Seattle Ichiros have the best record in baseball at 52-25. Seven Ichiros are hitting over .300, and eight have over 20 stolen bases. The only other players in the league with more than 20 are Carl Crawford and Bobby Abreu.

The pitching has not produced a single shutout win the entire season so far, but it looks like what’s working is working. Score a lot of runs, tank pitching, win, repeat. My manager grade is also an A- which is weird because I’m not even watching the games. Maybe I should watch a game.

*The Ichiros won 11-5*

This is a baseball game unlike any I’ve seen before. I’ve never seen such aggressive baserunning spread all throughout the roster. The Ichiros stole 6 bases and never got caught. It’s like watching all the racers in Mario Kart with endless speed mushrooms. I wish real baseball was like this. Watching this team field is similar to watching superheroes do pedestrian tasks with their powers like it’s no big deal.

This is definitely a championship team. Can the Ichiros really bring Seattle their first World Series title ever?

July: 15-11 (67-36 for the season, second in the A.L. West and 1st in the Wild Card race)

So. Apparently the Angels are really freakin’ good. See what happens when you have good pitching? Wow.

Even still, the Ichiro collective is doing their best to rectify this with some solid hitting. By the way, nine Ichiros made the All-Star Team, which if I had to guess would be the first time that’s ever happened? Nine All-Stars and they’re not even leading the division. Incredible.

Meanwhile, don’t look now but Jon Dowd is going for a Triple Crown.

August: 17-11 (85-47 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

Jesus Christ, what happened to the Angels?

Even though the Ichiros didn’t have a weird surge, the Angels seem to be going through it. Seattle has opened up a seven-game lead on the Angels. Luckily, the Angels have a chance to make up ground in September, as they have six games against the Ichiros.

The Ichiros have scored 931 runs this season; the next closest team has 767. That’s wild. They also have six players with at least 15 home runs or more, which is of note because Ichiro’s season high in the real world is 15 home runs.

We have 30 games left.

(I’m very impressed with the fact that none of the Ichiros have sustained an injury yet. I’m lying I turned injuries off.)

September-October: 16-12 (102-60 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

Thanks to four head-to-head wins over the Angels, the Ichiros were able to clinch the division and finish with 102 wins and 1,135 runs scored — 4th-most in baseball history, and most since 1894. Did they win the most games this season? Nope, the Boston Red Sox netted 106 Ws thanks to a solid lineup and *cough* good pitching *cough*

Despite being walked 139 times. Jon Dowd hit for the Triple Crown. Thanks for putting a potential hole in my argument, EA.

One of the Ichiro clones finished with a whopping 70 stolen bases. The team as a whole combined for 452 stolen bases while being caught 101 times. That’s a whopping 82% success rate as a TEAM. These were the next teams that came close.

Two Ichiros had more 200 hits while everyone in the starting lineup hit more than 170. We also achieved two of the five team goals. The two realistic goals!

ONE OF THEM ALSO WON AMERICAN LEAGUE MVP!

PLAYOFFS, BABY! My only rule going into this is that all the elimination games will be a live gameplay sim.

ALDS: Ichiros vs. Yankees

Off-screen computer simulations:

Game 1: Yankees 13, Ichiros 11

Game 2: Yankees 14, Ichiros 11

On-screen simulations:

Game 3: Ichiros 14, Yankees 5

Game 4: Ichiros 12, Yankees 3

Game 5: Ichiros 11, Yankees 3

So, something of importance that I should note: there are two types of simulations in this game. There is the quick sim that doesn’t show any gameplay, and then there is the longer simulation that showcases gameplay. Now, the quick sim was for most of the regular season and held true to the ratings and what each player would theoretically do. However, the gameplay sims showcase a different element of all of these things. You get to see just how much chaos this team can cause. I also think this sim does a better job of highlighting just how many runs a team full of Ichiros can score on offense and prevent on defense. This is the main difference between the two types of simulations.

ALDS: Ichiros vs. Red Sox

This is going to be the toughest challenge yet for the Ichiros. Not only will they have to face the best-pitching team in the league, they also have to go up against some fearsome left-handed hitters. Since all the Ichiros throw right-handed, there is no way to neutralize David Ortiz, Johnny Damon or Trot Nixon.

Game 1: Ichiros 12, Red Sox 6

The Ichiros went to town on Curt Schilling in spurts and it got so bad that Bronson Arroyo had to relieve him in the 3rd inning. You hate to see it.

Game 2: Ichiros 18, Red Sox 2

Going up against David Wells was easy pickings for the Ichiros, who absolutely destroy left-handed pitching. The dimensions of Fenway are also advantageous to the Ichiros. Normal flyouts in other parks turn into off the wall doubles/triples.

David Wells only lasted 5 outs. These Ichiros do a great job getting out on these hot starts and then jumping all over the relief pitching. It’s a magical strategy.

Game 3: Ichiros 6, Red Sox 5

After the Sox take a 5-0 lead by the 3rd inning, the Ichiros face their first test of adversity in the series, but answer back with three runs in the 3rd and three more in the 6th. The Ichiros leaned on their mediocre pitching and great defense to move one win away from the World Series.

Game 4: Ichiros 13, Red Sox 8

After scoring EIGHT runs in the third inning, the Red Sox give up 13 unanswered runs thanks to Ichiro, Ichiro and Ichiro. The Ichiros hit three home runs and six triples to keep putting pressure on the Red Sox pitching staff. Honestly, if Boston hadn’t won the World Series in 2004, I would think this was some part of a curse or something.

This was an unreal fight from the Ichiros. It’s a shame we never got to see them face off against knuckleball god Tim Wakefield. But now the Ichiros are heading to the World Series to face off against. Jon Dowd and the Giants. THIS IS OCTOBER!

World Series: Ichiros vs. Giants

Here we go. A team full of Ichiros vs. Jon Dowd and friends. Statistically speaking, the Yankees and Red Sox were both better opponents, but the Giants are still ranked higher than the Mariners because of our team’s lack of pitching. However, the Giants are one of the slowest teams in the league. It’ll be interesting to see how this dynamic plays out.

Game 1: Ichiros 6, Giants 2

Jon Dowd went 0-4. YOU LOVE TO SEE IT.

Game 2: Ichiros 17, Giants 6

A Jon Dowd grand slam couldn’t stop the Ichiro task force, which hit 5 home runs.

Game 3: Ichiros 12, Giants 1

A Jon Dowd solo home run was nowhere close to enough to stop the flurry. I never thought I would say this, but get Jon Dowd some help!

Game 4: Ichiros 9, Giants 3

GO CRAZY SEATTLE! THE ICHIRO CLONES HAVE TAKEN HOME THE WORLD SERIES TITLE!

ABSOLUTE PLAYOFF DOMINATION!

Offseason

Because we won the World Series, I have been rewarded with a team budget increase of 3.6 million dollars. However, since I put every create-a-player on a one-year contract, nearly the entire team is asking for a new deal.

I really didn’t think this through. Let’s see if I can re-sign them all.

DYNASTY TIME BABY! We made it to spring training with all of the Ichiros intact. On that note, we will end our simulation. We’ve had a hell of a run, but now it’s time to conclude and debrief.

Conclusion

When we used the non-gameplay simulation, the game stayed true to the stats that Ichiro was capable of producing. Those stats added up and allowed us to win dependently. Now, the hitting side sounds believable to a sense. When you duplicate someone that possessed a league-leading .372 batting average, you’re in for a lot of baserunners and scoring opportunities.

The shakiest part of the non-gameplay simulation has to be the pitching. A team of Ichiros giving up only five runs a game doesn’t sound that believable to me, especially when other teams full of actual pitchers in the game gave up more runs. It’s hard to tell whether the defensive prowess of the Ichiros was accounted for in these simulations.

The gameplay simulations were a different story, however, as you can see just how dominant the Ichiro squad was on offense and defense. On offense, the Ichiros barely struck out and every single ball put in play looked like it could be a hit. The Ichiros preyed on slow outfielders like Jon Dowd and middle-tier arms like Johnny Damon. Using these two advantages, the Ichiro squad could turn doubles into triples whenever they wanted. Every time an Ichiro walked, a steal seemed imminent and there was little you could do to stop it.

Now, watching Ichiro pitch in real-time made me nervous, but he does just enough to mitigate the damage. When the pitchers were in a jam, they would often get bailed out by the amazing speed and glove of an Ichiro. It’s nice to have someone with 10 career gold gloves at every position on the field.

The gameplay sims took everything that Ichiro was good at on paper and amplified them to a point where they looked absolutely unbeatable. When they faced elimination against the Yankees, I switched gameplay simulations to “document the end” but I realized that these sims make the Ichiros seem like gods. I do wish that I had done gameplay simulations of the entire playoffs so that those two Yankees losses wouldn’t be there, but at least I switched over before it was too late.

If I had done real gameplay simulations for all 162 games in the regular season, I think that the Ichiros could have won 140+ games easily. There was no way I was going to do that because that would be way too much time put into this project. I barely watch real baseball right now, you think I was going to watch weeks of virtual baseball? Hell no.

The regular season simulation allowed us to make the playoffs and that’s all that mattered to me at the end of the day. The chance to have a chance.

Ichiro is one of the greatest players in baseball history, but he’s overshadowed by most video games he’s featured in. In MVP Baseball there’s Jon Dowd, in Backyard Baseball there’s Pablo Sanchez and Pete Wheeler. In The Bigs, it was basically every power hitter in the game.

He never was a cover athlete for MVP Baseball, Triple Play Baseball, MLB 2K, The Bigs, or MLB: The Show. He never got the recognition he deserved for being OP in multiple video games. So the next time you hear MVP Baseball 2005 and someone mentioning Jon Dowd, bring up Ichiro. Bring up this article that I spent way too much on to show a video game legend the respect he deserves.

Finally, as a reward for making it through this article, here is a wholesome picture of Ichiro smiling.

Getty Images

You’re welcome.

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