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bumpkinspice0 · 2 months ago

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Take a Bullet

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: “I’d raise hell. I’d tear down whatever took you away…but you’re still here. If the price of that is death, then I’ll pay it every goddamn time.” he lets the words linger. It almost stings when they start to sink in. Did he really think this was all he had to offer? Only his invulnerability, his strength? Of course it was. It’s all anyone ever told him he was worth. All anyone ever wanted from him. He did exactly what thought he should. What he was made for. Logan always thought he was anything except a man. An animal. Another expendable tool. OR Logan never told you he couldn't die, and it scares you how far he's willing to go to keep you safe.

AN: Just the briefest sprinkle of smut. Didn't feel right to go full feral in this one. This is another one that's vaguely tied to my first Logan fic HERE. Totally not required reading, reader just has the same powers and codename cause I'm lazy. She's an earthmover called Dozer. The GIF choice is incredibly unserious but I couldn't not

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, injury, shock, Hurt/comfort, angst (obvi), Logan has some low self worth guys, Confessions of love, Protective!Logan, Smut, Tender sex

AO3 if you prefer to read there

Logan Masterlist

_______

You weren’t new to fighting. Hell, you’d been doing it most of your life. You were an X-man after all— but this was getting ridiculous.

They just kept coming.

You faced down the brotherhood countless times, fought gods and mad scientists— but a few dozen humans with guns was proving to be the most exhausting task you faced with the team. Their ranks were depleting, that much was true, but holy shit was this getting old.

“Dozer!” you hear Scott shout your codename from the left. “Barrier on the east entrance, quicksand for the ones approaching from the west!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” you, a little less than enthusiastically, respond before plunging your fist into the dirt to change the very earth to your will.

As an earth-mover, you have the wonderful task of being both on defense and offense— well, mostly defense. A lot of defense. You could put up walls and literally stop people in their tracks. If all the firepower was focused outside, the job could be finished inside.

This was a prison break, after all.

“The last of them are out!” Jean’s voice crackles in your ear. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

The last of the MRD facilities is finally falling. It’d been over a year since they’d been defunded and mutant registration was banned. Still, hate always found a way to limp on.

And limp on with a few hundred guns at that.

A stray bullet whizzes past your ear as you move behind a newly erected stone wall. You’d been at this for hours. You're tired. You’re slower and it’s making all of this a hell of a lot more dangerous.

“We need some support over here!” Scott screams into his comm, sliding behind the shelter next to you.

“North gate is clear. I’m coming to you!” You almost sigh in relief at the sound of Ororo’s voice. She’d be tasked with taking care of all other possible exits while you and Scott got the main entrance. With the power of flight and hurricane-level winds at her fingertips… Well, you always thought Storm could take care of herself better than the rest of the team.

The barrage of bullets stops as soon as there’s a crack of thunder, all of the armed men looking up to the sky to see the goddess that brought their demise. In an instant, tyrannical winds start to sweep through their ranks.

“Almost out!” Jean announces in your ear.

“Dozer, give them a clear path!” Scott orders you, jumping out from behind your barrier to help Storm thin the herd of armed men that waited.

You call to the dirt beneath your feet, pulling up several jagged walls of rock to protect the entrance and path to the Blackbird. They’re sloppy and uneven, but they’ll do for cover. You catch just a glimpse of the team through the cracks in the rock. Somehow, Logan’s eyes find yours in the fraction of a second you have.

“Spare anyone you can. Let’s clear the last of these scumbags out before we evacuate.” Scott orders through the comm set. You want to argue back and groan in protest. The mission was complete. The prisoners were out and heading for safety, but you knew he was right— Time to cripple MRD once and for all.

With any final strength you can muster, you send a shockwave through the battlefield, several agents falling in its wake. You quickly enclose whatever parts of their bodies in rock that you can. You just have to immobilize them and there are only a handful left. It’s almost over.

“Remind me never to piss you off, sweetheart.” a familiar gruff voice cheekily says behind you. In a flash, he’s at your side— Logan. If the situation were different, you’d have kissed him. Too bad there’s a task at hand.

“Oh, you should know never to piss me off by now.” you chuckled back, doing your best to multitask in the chaos of it all.

Logan jumps in front of you defensively. He was against you being the outside offense since the beginning, likely just because he couldn’t be there if you needed him. In the handful of months since you’d been together, he’d proven to be a rather protective partner. The more you learned about him, the more you understood why. He’d only had a small handful of things happen to him that were actually good. You did your best to be one of them.

“Two dozen left at most,” Scott shouts in the dwindling chaos.

Looking out at the jagged battlefield, Scott’s estimate seemed to be correct. This could be over in a matter of seconds, and your job would finally be done. You could take the last of them out with the same move you’d just done… that is if you had one more in you still.

You reach your weary hands out and call to the earth one final time. Cripple them. Immobilize them. The ground starts to rumble under your command.

You're so focused on your finishing move that you don’t hear it. Storm warning you all reinforcements are coming up from the south, directly behind you.

“DOZE!” It’s Logan’s voice that pulls you out of your concentration.

You only have a split second to turn your head to see him jumping for you. He pushes you to the ground, your body skidding a few feet away. There’s a deafening ring of new gunfire before it’s immediately silenced by a new jagged wall of rock you rip out of the ground. With a crack of lightning, Storm rushes over to Scott’s side, quickly followed by Rouge and Kurt. You scramble to your feet, ready to join them, but Logan doesn’t move. He just stands there, back to you, completely stone still.

“L-Logan?” You dare to take a small step toward him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He starts to turn around, his movements jerky and stiff. It hurts him to move.

You attempt to hide the horrified gasp that escapes your lips, covering your mouth with your hands at the sight of him. Your eyes immediately meet his and you can almost feel it through his gaze— the excruciating pain.

You weren’t fast enough to stop them.

Bullet holes peppered his entire body. God, even his face— the bullets still sat embedded in his metal skull. The blood pouring out of each new hole in his body was starting to stain his suit— painting over his skin with red. He choked out a pained sound that almost sounded like your name before collapsing to his knees and falling face-first at your feet.

“Logan!” You immediately drop down and pull him into your arms, the battle around you now completely forgotten. You erect three more small walls on your remaining sides. The team could handle the rest. They’d be fine. Logan would be fine. He just needed time to heal, and you’ll give it to him.

You cradle his head in your arms. All hope disappears when you look into his eyes.

There was… nothing.

Those warm, hazel eyes that were always so inviting are now cold and blank. Lifeless. Streams of blood marked his rugged face you adored so much, a bullet in his forehead and two through his left cheek. You’d seen death a handful of times in this rotten job. You’d just never seen it in someone you loved.

You can’t help the wail that escapes when you pull him in. You clutch his lifeless body, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Yes, Logan healed, he barely aged, but could he cure death? He’d never mentioned it. How could a mutation still possibly work after you died? It couldn’t. Logan was dead. He’s dead because of you. Because you weren’t fast enough to stop this.

You only faintly register the battle falling silent around you. The commanding voices of your friends at least tell you that you’ve won. There was no joy in this small victory for you. Not while you clung to the body of your now dead lover.

You jump at the sound of several metallic pings within your space. Has someone breached your quickly constructed walls? You pull back and gasp at an entirely new sight.

Logan was healing, newly formed tissue and bone pushing the bullets out of his body one by one. The final ones to leave are three that marked his face. As soon as they’re gone, there’s light in his eyes again.

His whole body arches in your arms as he heaves in his first gasping breath. His hands grasp onto you, finding anything to ground him. You can’t bring yourself to say anything comforting, shock grabbing hold of your vocal cords.

He’d come back to life in your arms in a matter of seconds.

He takes a few steadying breaths before his eyes finally find yours.

“Are you okay?” His voice is shaken, almost ragged.

You still can’t force yourself to speak. You only look at him, only able to see the blood that streaked across his face in every direction. His blood. He was still covered in his own blood. The hole in his forehead is still mending itself back together and he’s asking if you're okay?

He sits up from your lap, his hands gently resting on your arms.

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up to look him in the eye. Warm and inviting again. Full of life, “Talk to me.”

You’re not sure how long it is before you can force words out of your throat, but eventually, you do.

“You died.”

The silence that follows is haunting. Suddenly, it feels like there’s an ocean between the two of you. You should be the one comforting him through this, yet here he is, cradling your face in his hands, suddenly unable to make eye contact. He’d saved you, he was alive, you were alive, yet you feel like something in you changed. A small piece of you died with him just then. Unequivocally fear that you could never forget. He died. You just watched him die.

“But you didn’t.” He says it with no regret in his voice. No pain.

He knew his actions would likely be fatal. He sacrificed himself to save you. But was it worth it? Was it worth it to watch him die in front of you?

And knowing Logan… he’d do it again without hesitation.

“Hey, guys!” It’s Kurt's voice that pulls you out of your little world, calling for you just beyond the walls. You quickly lower them to see the rest of your fellow X-Men standing in wait. How long have you both been sitting here?

“Jesus, what happened?” Rouge exclaims, clearly referring to Logan still caked in blood. His blood.

He was still fucking covered in his own blood.

You quickly get up, not sparing Logan a single glance, and brush past your teammates as fast as you can. You board the Blackbird alone, hugging yourself in the corner. None of them come after you, and truthfully, you don’t want them to.

Your face collapses into your hands, sobs racking your whole body.

______

The flight home was dead quiet. Even the rescued prisoners said almost nothing except a quick thank you once you dropped them off at a secure mutant-run location just past the border. Logan was smart enough not to sit directly next to you. You’re not sure if you're relieved or mortified by that fact. No, no, you needed space and he was giving it to you.

You still felt his eyes on you the whole time.

He may not have sat right at your hip, but he was in eyeshot of you at all times. Logan’s emotions were always so palpable to you. You can always just feel him. He was worried.

Ororo was the first to approach you with a quiet hello and a gentle hand on your knee.

“What happened out there?” she asked somewhat hesitantly.

You took your sweet time answering, shock still grabbing some part of your mind and urging you to just keep staring at your feet like you had been the entire time.

“I saw him die, ‘Ro.” you eventually answered.

You swear you felt her touch tense a little.

“But Logan can’t die.” Maybe she was holding back a laugh, you thought briefly. You’d been with this man for months, and you had no idea his healing factor was so advanced. You were a child pouting in the corner over seemingly nothing— but it was everything.

“But I didn’t know that, ‘Ro,” you spat back at her. “I didn’t know that.”

And, of course, she pulls you into a hug with a comforting warmth only Ororo Munroe seemed to have. It was stupid of you to think she’d mock you for something like this.

You’re in your bedroom now, sitting on the bed with your knees curled into your chest, stripped out of your suit and freshly showered. Logan was in the bathroom just a few feet away, brushing his teeth. Just fucking brushing his teeth like nothing happened. Like his soul hadn’t left his body and you had to fucking watch.

It wasn’t just that, though. It wasn’t the fact that he was brushing off the fact that he’d died and come back to life.

You loved him.

It’d been a good handful of months, and neither of you had said the big one yet. People always said you and Logan were the same kind of stubborn, probably what drew you to each other in the first place. Both skittish and afraid to ruin something by going too far. But it’s gone past that point for both of you now, hasn’t it? What risks are there left to take? It took seeing the light draining from his eyes to realize you loved this man. God, why can’t anything in your life be easy?

You feel the mattress sink behind you, but still don’t turn to look at him. His body shifts with a heavy sigh.

“I can’t…we can’t go to bed like this.” There’s that gentle pleading in his voice you’d only heard a handful of times. When he woke up from nightmares, mostly.

A heavy hand comes to rest over yours and to your surprise, you don’t pull away. You finally turn to face him… and there he is. As rugged and beautiful as he always is. Not a speck of blood left. No holes in his body. The familiar hair of his bare chest already grown back in the same familiar patterns. The man you loved, as good as new.

With a deep breath, you ask your first question.

“Have you died before?”

He’s taken aback at first but eventually answers.

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“I’ve lost count.”

“Logan—” you bury your face in your hands, not sure if you are willing away tears or an irritated groan.

He reaches out for you, ready to pull you into him before he decides against it.

“I’m sorry,” he simply says.

“Logan, it’s not—”

“I thought you knew,” He quickly cuts you off. “You knew how old I was… what I’d been through. I figured you knew.”

In retrospect, it seems obvious. He’d fought in wars, been ripped apart and put back together, he’s hundreds of years old, for God's sake. But what normal person would ever correlate that to complete and total resurrection? You knew Logan had suffered… but this…

“You’re okay and I’m okay. That’s all that matters.” He reaches out to you again. You stand up from the bed and start to pace before he can touch you.

“It’s not about that! It’s not about being okay now— it’s that I had to watch you. I saw you die. I saw you suffer because of me and I—” You cut yourself off before admitting to your newest and most terrifying secret. “You can’t do that again. I can’t watch you go through that again.”

He just sits there, looking up at you like a scolded puppy.

“I can’t promise that.” He says without an ounce of regret in his voice.

“Then you’re going to have to try.”

You see a flame flicker in his eyes then before he looks away. He sits there, hands squeezing into white knuckled fists on his lap before he releases them with a deep breath.

“You can’t just ask me not to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You did tonight.”

You turn away again, trying to keep yourself from screaming. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t fucking get it.

You pause, facing the wall adjacent to the bed, and take a few deep breaths before daring to continue.

“I don’t want you to just be a human shield for me.”

“I’m not…I will do anything as long as it means you stay alive.” He’d finally raised his voice, the tendons in his neck tensing from what little restraint he had. “You have no idea… No idea what I’d do.”

And finally, his nonchalant attitude toward this monumental thing started to make sense. What he’d done, sacrificing himself for you— it meant nothing to him. A blip in his long existence. What’s a little more pain to it all? Logan never gave a shit about himself, you already knew that— but the people he cared about…he’d move mountains for them.

“I’d raise hell. I’d tear down whatever took you away… but you’re still here. If the price of that is death, then I’ll pay it every goddamn time.” he lets the words linger. It almost stings when they start to sink in.

Did he really think this was all he had to offer? Only his invulnerability, his strength? Of course it was. It’s all anyone ever told him he was worth. All anyone ever wanted from him. He did exactly what thought he should. What he was made for. Logan always thought he was anything except a man. An animal. Another expendable tool.

You have to show him he’s more than that. More than some blunt object. More than a weapon. He’s a man… the man you love.

You pull at his wrist, urging him to lean into you. He does, his arms circling around your shoulders and yours sneaking up around his back.

“Logan… you still don’t get it…but I guess I’m not getting it right either,” you start gently, running your hands soothingly up his back. “I’m not saying I’m not happy to be alive. That we’re both alive…but…I can’t be entirely grateful because…because I watched the man I love die tonight.”

You feel him tense around you.

“Just for a moment, I thought I lost you. I lost you and it was my fault. You’re not just something that’s expendable. You’re a man. A man that I— And I’d never get to tell you…” You trail off, the thought of it is too unbearable.

He doesn’t let you bury your face in his chest like you wanted, hiding yourself from his searing gaze. Instead, his hands come up to cradle your face, gently craning your neck back to look at him. You were right to want to hide away from him, his eyes are more desperately burning than you’d ever seen.

He holds you there, unmoving, unspeaking. Just boring into your soul with a million words that his mouth could never say. You don’t need him to speak. Those deep pools of hazel and topaz say it all.

In a way, Logan took the first step. He took a few dozen bullets for you, endured unspeakable pain and the first thing he did when he could breathe again was ask if you were okay— what is that if not love?

You don’t recall the last time a kiss felt more natural. Kissing Logan always felt right, but this was different. Whatever words he couldn’t say, he was pouring into this kiss. An all-consuming embrace. A silent promise. His own way of saying he loved you back.

Logan was always a man of action rather than words.

He pulls you into him, holding you flush against his body with a desperate moan and a need to have you impossibly closer. He cradles you like a treasure, tongue coming out to explore your own.

He pulls you down to the bed, hands starting to desperately paw at your whole body. You straddle his lap, cupping his jaw so tightly you fear hurting him. As if you ever could. Your shirt’s discarded in some blinding flurry of motion, his lips immediately trailing all over your chest as soon as you're exposed to him.

Logan was always a lustful and sometimes feral lover. It was always something that was intoxicating about him. This was more than that, though. There was a sense of desperation in his touch— a need. A need to have you closer. To touch you. To taste you. To have you just feel how much he needed you.

How much he loved you back.

He brings you down to the bed, pulling off your sleep shorts before you can even get a breath in. You rise to meet him once he’s discarded his own pants and straddle his lap again. He pulls you back into him as you sink down over him, your cunt stretching to his familiar girth.

“Don’t leave me again,” you plead as your hands reach up to cradle his face, tears pricking at your eyes. “Don’t ever, ever do that again.”

“Okay,” He says passively, dropping his mouth down to nip at your neck. “F-for you I’ll… Okay…Okay…”

It’s not a promise, not really. But it’s a start.

You both find a rhythm here, pushing and pulling into each other in ways that were already familiar and somehow completely new at the same time. It’ll never be the same after tonight. Whatever you and Logan are, it’s something entirely new. Equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Love always is.

It’s hours, it’s days, it’s… You don’t really fucking care. An eternity with Logan inside you would still not be enough, but eventually, you both find solace in your pillows, your bodies and hearts weary from… everything.

You both lay there, finally still and the initial emotions quelled. There was still so much more to talk about, so much more to say… but not tonight. Not right now.

“Do you ever remember anything… when it happens?” you find yourself asking, your fingers lazily brushing through his facial hair.

He says nothing at first, hand reaching up to yours and bringing it down for a kiss.

“No. Never. But… waking up to you wasn’t half bad.”

You flinch again at the memory of those empty eyes.

“I don’t want to see that happen to you again.”

“I can’t promise that, darlin’.” He reiterates from earlier.

“I’m not asking for a promise… I’m just asking you to try.”

He pulls you into him, resting his chin on top of your head and his hand gently stroking up and down your arm. It’ll take time, but you’ll show him. You’ll show Logan his life is worth something.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he says, placing a kiss on your head, “l’ll try. For you, I’ll try.”

#logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan smut #Wolverine #logan howlett fic #wolverine x f!reader #wolverine fanfiction

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hasnomoxxie · 4 months ago

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Alternate universe time, lemme dump real quick

WW2 au was on the brain, so I did a couple clean ups to my Obelix design so that he matched my Asterix a little better- In this I think he'd be like an actual post delivery person, sending supplies to and fro (since he's the only one able to go out due to his strength). I did base this one a little on Obelis'h and mixed the old design in there. Haven't settled on anything for Asterix just yet or what he does-

But then I thought...

w h y s t o p t h e r e -

Theres TONNES of au tropes that could be done with Asterix (i say, rubbing my damn hands together like a fruit fly) So ummmmm,,, here are the most popular aus I could find but with the Asterix twist ^^

I scribbled these all in an afternoon, smite me whenever- I'll most likely never touch these again bc lowkey I don't want that stress. Ily Asterix

Genderbent/Rule 63

Comma & Monolita (genderswap) In the year 50bc, Julia Caesar has conquered the entirety of Gaul with her Roman army. Almost. The only place she hasn't managed to touch is the little Gaulish village towards the coast, home to the indomitable gauls. Thanks to the great druid Spoonfulofsuga, the gauls drink a magic potion that gives them superhuman strength, allowing them to consistently push back Caesars army with ease. The greatest of these Gaulish warriors are best friends Comma, a small but very skilled gaul who uses her wits to get herself out of any sticky situation, and Monolita, a large but well meaning menhir deliverer with incredible strength due to her falling into the cauldron of magic potion as a baby. These two are often sent off by their Chief Criticaldata to carry out tasks and go on adventures in distant lands before returning home to a feast of roast boar, cooked by the men of the village.

By Toutatis, turns out a lot of Genderbent Asterix stuff exists but still, its one of the most popular so gave it a shot in my own way. Dude, thinking of the names is so much fun. Plus female obelix has my heart uaua.

Role/Personality swap

Obeswix & Asterswix (Roleswap) In the year 50bc, Thea Cleopatra has conquered the entirety of Gaul. Almost. The only place she hasn't managed to touch is the little Gaulish village towards the coast, home to the invincible gauls. Thanks to the great druid Valueaddedtax that grants them invulnerability, allowing them to resist Cleopatras armies and send them running back to where they came from. The greatest of these Gaulish warriors are best friends Obeswix, the largest but also the smartest gaul in the village able to use both his size and skill to his advantage, and Asterswix, a clumsy but kind hearted gaul with a temper whenever anyone points out his size and permanent invulnerability due to him falling into the cauldron of invulnerability potion as a baby. These two have incredible chemistry with each other and are often sent off by their Chief to carry out tasks or go on adventures in distant lands before returning home to a feast of roast boar.

The titular bitchular, if anyone gets this far and says undertale. YEAH HI I THINK UNDERTALE IS COOL. Yk those three/four swaps are the ones I thought of. I think Valuaddedtax and his potion would be cool to explore

like, cmon. Be real, this is lowk sick too

Bizzaro/Mirror-verse

Brackix ⅋ Gigantix (Fell/dark twisted glimse into my fucked up mind that would simply make one go insane lmao this is all a joke) In the year 50bc, Julius Caesar has ordered a full scale invasion of Amorica, claiming each new country as his own with his roman army. That is until he and his army arrived to the last standing gaulish village, home to the irascible gauls. To Caesar's surprise, the village, that he assumed was filled with defenceless gauls, was filled with hulking monsters with super strength that quickly decimates Caesars armies. Instead of fleeing, this greatly intrigues Caesar- If his legion can take down a village of superhuman gauls, not only would he have fully conquered Amorica, but finding the root of these gauls power would give him the strongest army throughout the world. Unbeknownst to him, the source of this power is from a potion, one brewed by the druid Supatoxix, that grants the user super strength at the cost of making them mindless hulking masses of destruction. There's often lots of brutal violence in the gaulish village and not everyone gets along with one another, especially the strongest fighters. These would be Brackix, a caniving and sarcastic but the smartest gaul in the village that often views those around him are dumber than he is, and Gigantix, a stonefaced beast with a pure heart who (after following a young Brackix's advice to stand up to his childhood bullies by breaking into the druid's hut to steal some potion) accidently fell into the cauldron of potion as a baby and has permanently been stuck as a towering monster. As the village deems that Gigantix's condition is Brackix's fault, he's often seen taking care of him, as any negative outburst from Gigantix would be negatively reflected onto Brackix. Otherwise, these two would often be sent out by their chief to scope the encompassing areas for Romans and the first chance to knock the tyrant out of commission.

Summoned all the writing skills back from when I was like 7 for this one. Ngl, kinda interesting??? Tho lowkey I prefer the cartoony bonking and paffing of Romans to actually take this one seriously Whatever ^^ I DID SOMETHING AND IT SHOULD BE ARRIVING NEXT WEEK, AND IF IT TURNS OUT WELL I MIGHT DO SOME MORE. Fingers crossed (yes it it asterix related). I need to draw Caesar BADLY ALSO I READ ASTERIX AND OBELIX ALL AT SEA?? what the FART? MY BABY IS STRESSED THE FUCK OUT THROUGHOUT, HAD MYSELF STRESSED AND IK ALL THE COMICS END THE SAME BUT I WAS STILL STRESSED TF OUT. spongebob rollercoaster image but ngl I genuinely was stressed in the first half

Juicy lore mmhmm yes yes. The them appreciation panel for today

Absolute banger so far I think, I LOVE comics!

#art #asterix the gaul #asterix #asterix and obelix #obelix #obelix the gaul #asterix et obelix #ww2 au #role swap au #genderswap #mirror universe #alternate universe #yeah yeah again #I get the Undertale refs #I legit can't handle too many of these aus so if I do do (doodoo) a thing with them in the future it'll be real small #sketches #doodles #ILY ASTERIX AND OBELIX MY BABIES MY OOMBIES MY REASON TO KEEP GOING/GEN

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writing-mlm · 11 months ago

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Pls write dick grayson x male reader 🙌🏾🙌🏾

How can I help?

Summary: The three times you help Dick with his father issues and the one time he helps you Pairing: Dick Grayson x Male reader WC: 7.4k a/n: this went through five different plots before I landed on this one I am so sorry

He’s given his entire life to Bruce. He’s owed him as much for everything he’s put him through; taking in a rowdy, traumatized orphan and dealing with the near limitless energy he had. Then the teenage angst, he understands why Bruce kicked him out. He had to. He understands that everything he’s gotten in his life is because of Bruce.

Bruce wasn’t… he wasn’t bad. He was doing his best with what he could, after all, infinite money didn’t come with infinite wisdom. And Bruce had given Dick his best, so really, Dick should be happy. He’s better off than some orphans, most orphans really.

So why does he want to strangle him?

He doesn’t get it. He loves Bruce, he’s the closest thing to a father he currently has. But he can’t be around him, he can’t stand his voice, he can’t even think about him without being upset.

He bites harder and you wince, staring at him as he bites your shoulder. You doubt he’s even aware of it, he hardly ever is. These moments are rare with Dick, usually after he visits his father and it goes wrong. It almost always goes wrong.

The biting makes it so he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t like crying. Not because he’s a man and men don’t cry but because it makes it harder to see. To focus. His breathing gets all loud and he can’t sneak around. But with biting, none of that happens.

You rub his back as the pressure on your shoulder builds and builds. He’s nearly breaking skin before he finally pulls away and stares at the TV, more quiet than he ever has been.

“I’m sorry,” He mutters after the episode ended. Feeling his fingers wipe away the drying spit and then soothe the throbbing spot, you turn to look at him and shake your head.

“Still invulnerable,” You remind him. While yes, it hurts a little, you know it’s not going to bruise. It’s not going to do anything aside from give him some sort of healthy release. He nods, still looking at the spot. You can tell his mind is running, it doesn’t take a genius to tell that much. “Dick, I’m perfectly fine.” He looks at you, eyes red and bleary before he huffs and turns his head away. He blinks and tilts his head to the ceiling while you watch.

He doesn’t like it when you watch, it makes him feel bad. Like a burden. But you watch to make sure he doesn’t put too much pressure on his eyes when he rubs them.

“It’s not your fault.” You promise and his breath hitches. God, he wants to believe you. So badly. “It’s not your fault.” Lips pursed and a lone tear running down the side of his cheek, Dick turns to you. “It’s not—“

“Stop.” He begs. His eyes screw shut and he shakes his head. “I know— I know it’s not, I do. But…fuck man.” Pushing himself away from you, you watch as he enters the kitchen and runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t just leave him!” He nearly shouts, convincing himself as he throws open the fridge.

“You can.” You nod, eyes flickering to where he’s grabbing a water bottle.

“No,” He says through a dry laugh before taking a large gulp of water. “No one leaves Bruce.” Turning to you, Dick licks his lips. “Do you know what it’s like? Trying to run from the world's greatest detectives and his mini Batman’s?” Shaking your head he shakes his back and walks over to the couch again.

“Oracle, Red Robin, and Batman! Those three have found unicorns before. End of the rainbow pot of gold. Compared to that, I might as well have a giant sign on my head! Then he has Superman and-and Martian Manhunter. Zatanna. Constantine!” He’s nearly shouting now, hitting each finger as he rapidly lists them off.

“Have you asked him for space?” It’s the question you’ve wanted to ask him for years now. His plan is always to up and leave, his bad thoughts are to up and leave. His good thoughts are to leave a note, and then leave. But he’s never thought about that. You know because he pauses and looks at you.

“He wouldn’t…” Shaking his head, Dick lays his head on the armrest of the couch and brings his legs up to yours. “I’d just get the society needs Nightwing talk. He’d say I’m leaving behind innocent people who need me.” He angrily says into his water bottle.

“You could get amnesia,” You half seriously suggest, running your fingers along his legs. He shaves pretty religiously, something about his suit needing less friction to get on and off. “Go by Ric without the K.” At that, he snorts and looks down at you.

“I love you,” He says and you smile.

“I love you too, dude.” Groaning, he kicks your arm and sits up. You laugh and rock into him, watching as he stares at the TV. His hair falls over his forehead nicely but he shifts it back, probably out of nervous habit.

“I can’t leave Damian.” He quietly says, a deep frown forming on his face. “He’s already been through so much.”

“You all have.”

“But he spent eleven—“

“This isn’t the trauma Olympics, Dick. You all can be fucked up at the same time.” There’s a long pause in the apartment and you get up to take the cookies out of the oven. They’re his favorite, macadamia with raspberry chunks.

“You know what really sucks?” He calls and doesn’t wait for a response. “We can’t even see a therapist about this! I mean, could you imagine one of us trying to see a therapist? It’s either Harley, Dinah, or some poor civilian!”

“Why not get therapy as Nightwing and then therapy as Dick?” It feels stupid, it sounds like it should be stupid but honestly, as Dick thinks about it, it might work. The biggest issue would be separating himself from Nightwing. Being a hero has been such a big part of his identity he doesn’t know how to unassociate the two. He doesn’t even know if they’re still two separate people.

“Maybe,” He shrugs and turns back to look at you. “Can I get a cookie?” He asks, half of a frown on his face.

“They’re hot,” You shake your head and poke one of the cookies. “Give them five minutes.”

“You’re hot.” He grins.

“Still not getting a cookie.”

“Aw, man.”

—

It’s the last stretch of the day. After coming back from his detective-ing and patrolling and you coming back from the WatchTower, Dick lays his head between your legs and sighs. He likes it there, he could spend hours between your legs if he could. Truthfully, you think he likes it more when it’s nonsexual. The feeling of your thighs cupping his ears, your fingers running up and down his hair mixed with being able to get up whenever he wanted was one of the times he was most relaxed.

He sighs again, leaning his head further back as your nails drag against a spot that had been bothering him for a while now. You smile and give it extra care before exploring the rest of his hair, secretly glad he hadn’t realized he’s due for a haircut soon. The once blunt ends have dulled and you hope he doesn’t notice the starts of split ends soon. You could just repair them, right? There are shampoos for that.

Although you wouldn’t tell him, you did enjoy his mullet phase. The long hair was pre-dating but it’s what caught your attention. He only cut it the night before your first date, which was admittedly a little heartbreaking. But the shorter hair definitely was better. It worked wonders for him, really drew attention to his eyes and his smile.

Plus when he was fighting no one could grab his hair and bang his head into a wall as much.

You feel along scabs and small scars that his thick hair hides, carefully dragging your nails over it. But not too harsh that it would remove the scabs. His hands flex and tense on your thigh as you do so but the way his shoulders drop lets you know to continue. He’s close to snoring at that point, the only thing missing was the white noise he had to listen to. Sure, it annoyed the shit out of you, but it wasn’t ruining your sleep.

The room is dark with the curtains drawn and the door is closed, but there’s a video playing with the sound barely audible. It’s nothing compared to Haley snoring in the corner of the bed, though. Maybe she could be the white noise.

“Do you think…” He says, voice soft as he tries to let go of the day's pressure and just live. But he never can, you don’t think he’s ever actually just relaxed before. “Do you think I’m a good son?” He finally asks and you see the tip of his nose move as he frowns.

“A great son,” You hum, tucking some of his hair behind his ears. “Hell, I stopped speaking to my dad after he forgot my birthday three years in a row.” You laugh.

“You had a reason, though,” He shakes his head. “I owe Bruce—“

“Adopting a child doesn’t mean you’re owed shit.” You tell him and carefully sit up, now staring down at him. “He chose you, he doesn’t get to hang it over your head like some sword. And you shouldn’t either, one good choice should never negate years of building resentment.” He frowns and stares at you until you sigh. “How about this? You go to family therapy, you did say Bruce is different now.”

“He is,” Dick nods, guiding your hands back to his hair. “I know he’s a good dad but sometimes he sucks.” He blinks, briefly staring at you before he closes his eyes. It’s clear he wants to continue the conversation but he can’t bring himself to say anything else. His mind is a fog and he doesn’t truly want it to clear out. He doesn’t want to face reality just yet.

“Is this a bad time to mention that I have to shit?” He snorts and nods, eyes still closed as he gets up. He watches as you scramble out of the room, nearly waking Haley up in the process. He follows after you like a lost dog, his feet slapping against the freshly mopped floors.

He doesn’t want to be alone, he knows it’s probably not healthy to be so attached he couldn’t fathom going twenty minutes without seeing you while you’re in the same apartment but he can’t. At least, not right now. He can’t be alone with his thoughts and if he has to deal with them, he wants to at least look at you. Touch you in some way.

“We’re at the stage where you watch me shit?” You joke as he opens the door and sits on the edge of the tub. You don’t mind as much as you thought you would, not with Dick slowly sinking into the tub and getting rid of his shirt, and then pants. He throws his shirt at you to get your attention when you’re nose-deep in your phone. Unaware of his actions.

“Bath?” He grins, the sound of him slapping his thighs echoing in the bathroom.

“I’ll get the bubbles,”

The bath is nice, the water is cold against Dick’s aching muscles and you’re staring at him from the opposite end of the tub. Well, as best as you could with the lights dimmed and the occasional phone screen illuminated on the counter. He’s messing with the bubbles, creating beards and blowing them at you. Making sure you can’t move away by locking his ankles behind your back, he watches as you wipe the bubbles from your mouth.

Spluttering them out, you grab your own handful and smush it against his face.

You both laugh and sink further into the water. He’s down to his chin, his knees awkwardly sticking out of the water while the water is just up to your chest.

“I think I’ll talk to Bruce about therapy,” He says as the laughter is nothing but a memory on the tiled walls. The bubbles slowly popped around him and the water gradually got warmer. He nervously drags his hand down your leg and then slowly up again until he reaches your thigh and stops.

“I know some family therapist,” You softly tell him and he nods. “I think Dr. Sampson would be good for you two. She does virtual and in-person, flexible for the most part.” That’s good. He doesn’t think Bruce would let Brucie Wayne get seen walking with his eldest child into a therapist's office.

“Thank you.” He says as he reaches over and pulls you onto him. Water splashes over the side of the tub and some gets in your eyes but you blink it away. “I’m so in love with you,” He says, unable to look at anything but your eyes.

“I love you, too.”

—

It’s a calm Sunday when your door flies open, it bangs against the wall and you’re almost sure there’s a dent where the knob hit. But it’s neither here nor there as you hear Dick shouting in Romani. Whatever’s happened, he’s beyond upset so you abandon your work and meet him on the couch.

The shouting stops when he sees you and he frowns. It’s deep and etching in his skin. You offer him a welcoming smile as his nose turns red and his lip quivers.

“What happened?” You ask, guiding him to the couch. With your hand on his back, you can feel that he’s shaking. Instead of replying, he shakes his head and collapses onto the couch, his head in his hands. His fingers thread through his hair, pulling and grasping randomly until he moves his hands around his torso and finally looks at you.

“I killed Joker,” He finally says. The house is silent as you stare at him, eyes flickering across his face as his breathing goes jagged and he gags. “I…fuck,” He looks at you and you look back at his eyes. “I fucking killed him!” He repeats but this time it seems like shock has washed over him. That he’s the character in a movie, holding a household item turned murder weapon and the dead body is right in front of him.

“What… why?” You ask, a million questions running across your mind.

“I thought he killed Tim,” He shakes out, his eyes closed as he remembers what happened. “I thought he killed Tim, he had this illusion of Tim. He looked so much like Jay’s after he killed him. And I… I couldn’t lose another sibling to him.” You notice he’s flexing his hands and staring at them, noting the bruises on his knuckles. Parts of his skin is ripped, like he’s been licking at the bruises and scrapes to make them into cuts.

“I lost control,” He croaked out. A sob travels up his body but he forces it down and presses the balls of his hands into his eyes.

“Does Bruce know?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“Just Tim and Babs. And you,” That’s good, heaven knows how Bruce would react.

“Well,” You huff. “Joker was going to die anyway. He deserved it.” There’s nothing you can— want to do about it now. Sure, there’s definitely a way to bring someone back to life but… the Joker doesn’t deserve it. What you can do now, is comfort your boyfriend.

“We don’t kill!” Dick looks at you. He’s been crying for a long while now, you can see the stains on his cheeks and the redness of his eyes. “Killing is the one thing B doesn’t stand for.” If you could, you’d tell Dick every single issue you have with Bruce. The hypocrisy in his rules, and the moral high ground he puts himself on is fake and it sucks that everyone seems to go along with it.

But you don’t. Now isn’t the time for your personal qualms with his father.

“One death,” You tell him, pulling him closer to you. “Is nothing compared to what Joker has done. He’s killed Jason, he’s paralyzed Babs, he’s killed over a thousand people. And Bruce doesn’t have to know. I doubt Tim or Babs is going to be telling him.” He nods at the last part. Out of everyone he knows, he knows his siblings and Barbra wouldn’t tell Bruce that. They’d hold that secret like no other.

That calms him down. Aside from them, the only person who could possibly know was a god. And he doesn’t think he’s pissed any off as of late. There weren’t any cameras, no one was around for blocks. Not even a single church mouse knows.

Now came the hard part. Life after killing Joker, pretending to not know where the Joker was.

He’d just left the body there but he knows they got rid of it. And he doesn’t want to know the details, the less the better. He’s afraid he’d somehow give Bruce hints during their weekly therapy sessions.

“I’m sorry about your wall,” He mutters into your shoulder and you peer at the wall. The dent is small, just the center of the knob left an imprint so it’s nothing five minutes can’t fix.

“I’ve put bigger dents,” You tell him with a dismissive wave. You haven’t. There’s never been a singular dent in your walls, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Can we…” He shakes his head as he thinks. “Do something tonight? Anywhere really, anything but sitting in silence.”

“Yeah,” You nod, turning your body to face him and tucking his hair behind his ear. “Anything you want, baby. How about we drive up to my sisters for the week? She’s having a family thing… I would’ve invited you either way. Besides, if we stay for a week instead of the weekend you will not get any peace and quiet.” You laugh knowing that her kids love Dick. Always asking him to do tricks and teach them.

He agrees and promises to be ready in an hour.

There are thankfully no hitches in your plan. Dick had already taken time off from work, your sister didn’t mind that you’d be coming to visit five days earlier than expected, and there was no traffic during your five-hour drive. The two of you didn’t talk much, instead, you took turns blasting music and listening to various podcasts. Occasionally, one of his siblings would call when they realized he’d left Gotham without prior warning but he’d tell them it’s a family thing with you.

—

Thetford was a small town in Orange County, Vermont. Population, less than three thousand people. It was perfect for your sister who dreamed of two things and two things only. Peace from cities and a nice large farm-style home.

In the distance, you see the roof of her home and slow down, with no one else on the road you’re not putting anyone in danger.

“Ready?” You ask him. He licks his lips and nods. “Because I can always drive into town, ask her if she needs anything.” Again, he nods and looks at you.

“I’m okay, really.” Dick swears. “I promise.” Nodding, you hold his hand and kiss the back of it. He smiles and squeezes your hand back.

Your brother-in-law is already in the garage, grabbing some items from his workshop, and waves you inside. With a three-car garage, there’s more than enough space for your car next to their minivan. He is basically the modern-day Romeo Vasquez. At least that’s what your sister says, you still haven’t seen any of his movies.

He helps you with your and Dicks bags despite your insistence that you don’t need any help. But he quickly leaves the two of you in the basement when he hears one of the babies crying.

The basement is nice; a washer and dryer under the stairs, a small living room with various game systems, a bathroom, and a bedroom. You’ve spent enough time down there that you just toss yourself into the bed while Dick stands at the doorway.

There’s two exits, one that leads to the house and the other to the backyard. It locks from the inside so no one can enter through there but she gives you a key anyway. He sees the small windows at the tops of the walls and it reminds him that the house was built on a slope. The front of the basement is smaller than the back, which is probably why the washer and dryer are over there.

“Should we go and check on them?” He asks, ridding himself of his sweater. Shaking your head, you roll onto your side and look at him.

“They’ll come down soon enough,” He hums and lays down next to you. Looking over his face, your eyes naturally land on his hair where you start playing with strands. In your sister's house Haley isn’t allowed on the bed, so she’s laying right below Dick, trying her best to look at him.

His hair sprawls across the pillow like he’s in a Studio Ghibli movie. Thankfully, he still hasn’t cut it. He watches you as you play with his hair, biting his lip and carefully touching the scraps on his hands. It’s too quiet for him, he can’t enjoy the peace with you. No matter how badly he wants to.

“Can we see the kids?” He asks almost tightly. You nod, kissing his cheek and guide him upstairs with Haley quick on his heels.

—

The week is filled with watching children and helping prepare for the upcoming family gathering. Dick is good with the kids and making sure things are strung up, climbing in trees and up to the gutters of the home while you’re better with nailing the umbrella into the dirt and carrying the chairs into the backyard.

He’s thrown up a bit throughout the days, normally during stretches where no one is doing anything. He nearly strangles you as you sleep, holding you so tight you’re worried for him but it’s calmed down as the week continues on. Especially after his latest session with his father.

He seems happier, actually sitting down and enjoying the quiet of your sister's home. The two of you go on walks at night, using the basement key to avoid waking anyone up. Every morning you wake up to clips of the two of you walking sent by your sister.

Haley loves it, she’ll run ahead and wait for the two of you, sometimes she’ll run into large piles of leaves and then run around with sticks she finds.

But he’s noticed how you’ve been getting as the week continues. As the realization you’re going to be seeing a lot of your family for the first time in a while dawns on you, you get more fidgety. You’ve needed to be doing something at all times. Fixing things that don’t need to be fixed, volunteering to clean the kids' rooms, the bathrooms, and even raking all of the property. It took nearly five hours, but you did it.

Then, you’d spend hours in the bathroom. Shaving, styling your hair, brushing your teeth to the point your gums hurt. You’ve stopped letting him into the bathroom with you, locking it behind you. Late at night, when you think he’s sleeping, he hears you throwing your hair products. Once, it got so bad you had to wake your sister. He watched as you spent nearly two hours talking to her in the backyard.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not used to comforting you. Sure, he comforts Damian, Tim, Jason, Kori, Cassandra, and basically everyone else he knows but never you. You’ve never needed reassurance before; always being his shoulder. It’s a little selfish to think so, but it makes him feel like a bad boyfriend.

Even more so when he can’t pull his big boy pants up and ask you what’s bothering you. Instead, he thinks and theorizes. He is a detective, after all.

It’s the day of the reunion when you feel him kissing your back. You never sleep with a shirt since you always end up with your back all sweaty. He trails up from your shoulder blades, carefully trailing up to your jaw, and then shifts to kiss your cheek.

“Dick,” You hum and he hums back, his free hand rubbing circles on your hip. “It’s early.”

“I’m not doing anything,” He reassures but drags you onto him. “Besides, it’s almost seven.” He says it like you’ve slept all day and it's past an acceptable time to be sleeping still. Blinking, you sigh through your nose and sit on his lap, slowly running your hands down his stomach. It’s more out of habit than anything else.

“Fine.” He grins. “But you’re showering first.” He frowns but nods and you roll off of him, watching as he grabs his clothes from the dresser and heads into the bathroom. Meanwhile, you take a nap.

A part of you knows he wanted to shower together, but you couldn’t. You wanted to shower in water so hot it’s actually dangerous and he hates anything above a light steam. Something about it being bad for his skin.

This time, you’re woken up much more rudely. With three children shaking you, you groan and throw the blanket over your head, ignoring their shouts and calls for your name until Dick suggests taking the blanket off.

“I’m up!” You shout, glaring at Dick as he grins. He ushers the kids out, promising to teach them how to do a barrel roll in the basement living room. Begrudgingly, you start your day and meet Dick in the kitchen. He’s in his head a little, probably because there’s a clown on the TV being called a classical joker but he’s still attentive with the kids.

You’re helping your sister's husband with making breakfast, something light since lunch and dinner will virtually be an all-you-can-eat buffet for the family.

Dick joins in when the kids pick a show, cleaning the dishes and staring at you for far too long as you’re watching the eggs cook. You don’t look happy, he finds the longer that he stares at you. You look distant and at one point you look at the ceiling and blink.

He thinks and thinks, but he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what type of comfort you need.

His hand finds yours as you finish up and your sister takes over. He brings you to the couch and just sits with you and it seems to work as you lay your head on his shoulder and hug his arm. But it doesn’t last long, as the kids finish eating and the doorbell rings.

You remove yourself from him and look at your sister. She checks her phone and nods so you take his hand again and drag him down to the basement.

“Who’s that?” He stupidly asks as you toss yourself onto the couch and curl up in the corner. Watching as he sits next to you, you look at the black screen.

“My parents,” You sigh. “My father really, they’re divorced.” He nods. Sure, he’s met your sister a bunch and some cousins but never your parents. He knows the names of aunts and uncles, gossip about family members he’s never met and plenty of birthday wishes from them, but he doesn’t know them.

“Oh,” He blinks. And you nod. “Are they…?”

“Powers? No,” Rolling to your side, you stare at him. “They don’t know either.” He nods again. “I’m sorry… did you want to meet my dad?”

“We’ll meet later,” He dismisses.

Later comes two hours after your father arrives. Your mother and some other family arrive at the same time and you’re forced by self peer pressure to make an appearance. With them all in the backyard and you can see around twenty people have arrived and the dread creeps back in. You don’t know why but you feel like you might throw up so you rush into the bathroom.

He heads out first, you’re still in the bathroom but you don’t tell him to wait so he goes. He sees your sister and goes to her side, she’s talking to everyone who’s there. They all decided to sit at the same table so it made greeting them much easier.

“This a friend?” Your grandfather asks, eyeing Dick up and down.

“(Y/n) roommate,” Your father answers through a grit. He doesn’t know if he should correct him or not, if it would ruin the whole thing so he just smiles and introduces himself. He uses Richard for them, he remembers that they don’t like curse words from anyone not considered an adult. So anyone below forty.

You enter the backyard sometime later and immediately find Dick. He’s at the table with your family, chatting with your aunts. It grosses you out for a moment, seeing the way they stare at him but you push it down and walk up from behind him. It’s almost on purpose how you ignore your father and stand behind Dick, messing with his hair as he talks.

He pulls up the chair next to him and you sit, greeting your family.

Everyone talks while Dick listens, the conversation moving to what you’ve been up to. You don’t post on Facebook so they have next to no information on how you’ve been doing, so you fill them in on your jobs and stuff until the other guests arrive.

Soon enough, everyone is there and the party is in full swing. Music plays and food is being served. Kids run around the backyard and play in the pool but you’re sitting around some of your cousins and their parents.

They’re talking about random things, mostly. Some of your cousins are already married, showing off their spouses and rings with subtle jabs at their significant others with their issues. A ‘can’t clean up after themselves’ or a ‘doesn’t know what a diaper is’ is thrown around a couple of times. One of them is pregnant with twins and another is talking about their child going to college soon.

You feel like the odd one out. Although you’ve never put a timeline on your relationship, nor have any real desire for children or marriage; it would have been nice to have some leg in their conversation. Instead, you give everyone their congrats and continue to drink.

The conversation moves into more conversations you can’t relate to and you find yourself hungry, quietly asking Dick if he wants to grab something to eat. He agrees and the two of you head over to the food table and pile some stuff on.

“What’s this?” He asks, pointing his fork at the chitlins in a smaller bowl.

“Nasty is what it is,” You quietly laugh. “Pig intestines.” He nods at the answer and moves along. Your plate is done, stacked up to a point that might be unsafe with a fresh can of soda in your other hand.

“Are you okay?” He finally asks as he’s piling collard greens onto his plate.

“I’m fine,” You nod. “Wish there was better music but I’m fine.”

“No,” He shakes his head and looks at you. “Are you okay? Is there something I can help you with? You were jumping to leave the group and you’re drinking a beer.”

“I’m fine,” You nod again. “Just normal family things… I swear.” He sighs and you sigh back. “Truthfully, I hate being around my dad. And I feel weird being here, I can’t relate to them.”

“Because of us?” He asks and you laugh, quickly kissing him. He leans in for a deeper one but you push him back and he frowns, eyes on your lips.

“Because my job is going to space and saving aliens and their jobs are school teachers and office jobs. And I can’t relate to changing diapers or arguing with my wife— well, boyfriend.”

“Oh,” He turns back to adding food to his plate. “Well, you can say you’re a baker. That’s a normal job that you kind of have.”

“True,” Looking over the yard, you see nearly everyone is staring at you. They look away quickly and you clear your throat, waiting for Dick to finish up before heading back to your group.

“Uncle Richie,” Mickey, your sister's oldest child, says as he walks over with a popsicle stick and most of it smeared on his white shirt. God, if the place hadn’t been silent before, it’s silent now. You’re aware of the stares your way, even though Mickey is oblivious to most of it.

“Yeah, Mick?” He greets, ruffling Mickey’s hair.

“Did you make Uncle (Y/n) gay?” He asks with his head tilted while you snort into your drink.

“Did I… what?” Repeating the question, Dick looks at you with red ears and help me eyes.

“I been gay, Mick.” You tell him. “Why?” Mickey shrugs and bites the popsicle.

“Grandpa said not to tell you he said that Uncle Richie made you gay.” Your cousins around you chuckle and you have to bite your lip.

It’s not surprising. The man who forgot your birthday because he already had five kids before you didn’t know much about your life. He never really wanted another kid, he dotted on your older siblings and gave them everything they ever wanted. You were more of an afterthought, the kid shoved into the attic because that was the only space available. The kid who found a strange monster in the dark attic that gave him magical powers and became even stranger to his father.

“I won’t tell him,” You swear and Mickey nods before running away.

“He told your family were roommates,” Dick finally admits. “I didn’t know what to say so I just… didn’t say anything.”

“It’s fine,” You shrug. It’s not fine, but you don’t want to dwell on your issues. Today isn’t about you, this trip isn’t about you. You should try and enjoy yourself.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Your uncle asks, pointing his beer at Dick. “We should’ve been chewing him out! Not sharing stories!” The others agree and you apologize with a smile.

“I thought you guys knew,” You shrug.

“Well,” Your grandmother says from behind you and you jump. “Tell us about your boy toy.” She nods her chin in Dick’s direction and he laughs.

It doesn’t take long for the adults to gather around you and basically shove you and Dick into each other. You’re a bit embarrassed at the attention, choosing to shove your mouth with food while everyone asks their questions.

Your father is notably absent, he’s off walking around with a cigarette in his mouth. He doesn’t do gay stuff, you think. He tends to avoid it at all costs. Your mother isn’t there either, but she tends to avoid you so it’s not shocking.

“You said your name is Richard?” Your grandfather asks and Dick nods. “How long y’all been dating?”

“Couple years,” You answer.

“Long enough for a ring?” One of your aunts asks, eyes raised at Dick. You look at him too, sure this isn’t a great time to finally talk about that but, hey, why not.

“Definitely,” He nods. There are a couple of others and haha from them.

The conversations continue and he watches as you’re more relaxed now. The beer is gone, taken over by the ants who drown in it. You’re happily talking, catching up, and showing pictures. He stares at you so long, so hard, that the others notice and point it out. They call him smitten, and consider you lucky that you’ve found someone who seems to worship the ground you stand on.

But in truth, Dick doesn’t think he does enough. He thinks back to the times you’ve dropped everything for him, how you’ve learned him inside and out, defended his feelings about his father, and he wishes he could’ve been a fraction of that boyfriend to you.

He loves you, a whole lot. But he knows he doesn’t really show it. Not as much as he’d like to, anyway.

He kisses the top of your head and you stare at him, confused. He just smiles and leans close to you, resting his head on yours.

“Can he fight?” One of your sister's husbands asks and you laugh. He’s been in the family for as long as you’ve been alive, you used to have a crush on him growing up.

“Joel is a boxer,” You explain to Dick. “He likes to fight the family's boyfriends.”

“A test?” He asks and you give a noncommittal nod. “Okay.” He agrees and Joel looks at you, none of the boyfriends have seemed excited about it before. You just hold your hands up. “I mean,” Dick starts as he stands up. “It’s only fair, Damian tried to stab you when he found out.” He did stab you, but your skin just ended up breaking the blade so he called a truce until he could find something that harms you. It was a long day when he found out it was copper.

“Make space,” Joel makes a motion at everyone to push back and everyone scoots back while Dick stretches.

“Should I take my shirt off?” He asks, plucking at his white shirt.

“Please do,” You grin and he winks, taking it off in one motion. You chuckle, giddy as his back muscles flex while he watches Joel take his shirt off. Dick twists, seeing if his belt is too tight and takes that off too.

“If y’all break up—“ Your cousin whispers to you and you smack her arm. “Just saying.”

“Should I watch your face?” Joel teases. “Pretty boy, ain’t you?”

“I’ve been told,” Dick shrugs. “But I doubt you could land a hit on it.” Again, your family eggs the situation on and you watch as they fight. It’s mostly playful, until Joel pins Dick down and he looks at you. He doesn’t want to hurt Joel, he’s almost fifty but Joel is a professional and definitely has had worse than Dick’s play fighting. You nod and watch as he wraps his legs around Joel’s body, slamming him to the ground in less than a second.

“Did I mention I’m an acrobat?” He asks once he’s on top.

“And flexible?” Your cousin whispers again. You chuckle and look at him, you’ve always liked watching him fight. The way he and his family fight tends to look nice. You’ve never seen a better-looking fight than when they fight each other.

But god, without a shirt it’s so much better. A little too good, you quickly find out. Taking one last sip of your drink, you excuse yourself and head back to the basement but Dick stops you at the door.

“Did I go too far?” He whispers, holding you close. “I tried holding back.” He adds, kissing your neck.

“No,” You clear your throat. “I just uh… got excited?” He peers over your shoulder and laughs, watching as you open the basement door and flick him off.

“I can help,” He offers, following after you.

“And have my family know we fucked? No!” Closing the bedroom door, you grab the box of tissues and lotion before heading into the bathroom.

“Lotion and tissues is so middle school,” He calls after you.

“Fuck off!” You call back. “Stupid ass— why’d you take your shirt off?” You groan.

“It’s my fault?” He laughs.

“Yes, clearly!” You shout back. He snickers and listens as you finish and wash your hands. “Not a word about this,” You tell him as you exit the bathroom, avoiding looking at him.

“Damn,” Joel laughs as Dick joins the group again. “You’re fast.”

“Pretty slow to me,” You cough and Dick looks at you, hands on his hips. You stare back at him, daring him to make a comment.

“Slow?” Joel asks. “Let’s see you do better. You know he couldn't carry a gallon of milk until he was fourteen?” He asks Dick.

“I was twelve,” You angrily correct and stand in front of Dick. “Take your seat, man. Telling him my business.” Joel raises his arms and takes your seat.

“Watch the face,” Dick tells you. “My boy likes me pretty,” He winks.

“I sure do.”

Your family watches as you fight, each punch looking more real than the last until you swipe his legs from under him and pin him. It’s a low mount, so as he’s blocking a punch, he bucks his hips and you go forward until you plant your hands on either side of his head and stop your fall.

“Always the low mounts,” He shakes his head as you’re laughing. “You gotta go high, baby.”

It’s decided amongst the group that it’s a tie and you sit on the arm of his chair as the night continues. At some point during the fight, your father had joined back and sat weirdly in the middle. The kids have calmed down and dragged their chairs to the odd spots between the adults or gone to sleep inside the house.

Eventually, you go inside the house to grab some more ice for the coolers and see your mother exiting the bathroom. She hasn’t really spoken to you, she hasn’t said much to you your entire life. You think she feels guilty about letting your father treat you like that, or guilty for even bringing you into that environment. But you don’t care, if she puts the effort you put the effort back.

You don’t hate her, despite what she may think. You think she’s a little sad, pitiful almost. And that’s honestly so much worse than hating her.

“Hey,” She smiles at you, rubbing her arms. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” You nod. “You?” She nods and sighs. There’s not much to say. She has some new boyfriend who cares about her, some job she sort of likes, and you can’t talk about your life.

“Richard seems nice,” She says and you smile. It makes her smile more. A real smile.

“He’s amazing,” You tell her. Hauling the ice bag over your shoulder, you leave the awkward conversation and dump the ice into the water cooler in the middle of the conversation circle.

Your seat was still taken by Joel, so you’re pulled onto Dick’s lap. He’s a bit chattier than usual, but the conversations are ones he enjoys so you aren’t surprised. Looking around, you see your father staring at you. He’s finally looking at you with something other than disinterested— disgust.

He’s the only one in the family who feels that way, which is odd. He didn’t grow up hating gay people, maybe he just knew you were gay and hated you so by extension— gay people too. Anything that reminded him of you became tainted and for whatever reason, you’ll never know the real reason why.

You stare back, daring him to say something. Twenty-odd years, nearly thirty of building resentment and you’ve never acted on it. Never spoke on it. Never once have you told anyone the depth of your hatred for him. Dick knows the surface, he knows the kid version of why poor (Y/n) doesn’t speak to his father anymore.

The birthdays were inconsequential compared to everything else.

Your father blinks, his eyes flickering to Dick before they look him up and down. Whatever he’s thinking, whatever is running through his mind is wrong. He can’t fight Dick. He’s not smarter. He’s not richer. He’s not taller. He’s not more built. He’s not better. He’ll never reach the level that Dick has. In any matter.

He looks back at you, eyes boring into your soul. The glare is nothing, you’ve stared at Thanatos, Darkseid, and world crushers before. Comparatively, he’s the dirt under your boots.

“Am I a cancer or taurus?” Dick whispers and you look at him, confused. “Your cousin is asking everyone their signs.” He explains.

“You’re a Pisces,” You correct and he thanks you, laughing at his forgetfulness. Nodding, you lay your head on his chest and let the chatter around you become your own white noise.

Meanwhile, Dick smiles down at you before staring at your father with a glare. He flexes his hands and your father’s eyes dip down to his knuckles. Dick can tell he sees the bruises and the cuts even if they’re beginning to fade away. Your father gulps and looks away, completely turning his body away from the two of you and Dick returns to his conversation like nothing happened.

And that’s what he wanted.

#x male reader #x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x male reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x male reader #dick grayson x you #richard grayson x reader

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sserpente · 8 months ago

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Paid Pleasure (Kinktober #4)

Excerpt: Sylus huffed. His crimson eyes locked with yours for a moment before darting back to Yuze. “Make me a better offer.”

“Forty percent. You slap your name on the paperwork and I have your back if you need me. You’ll have free access to all of my facilities and…” – he pointed at you – “…all of my girls. In return, I have your financial support to keep this baby running. Perhaps…you’d like to sample what this partnership could offer you?”

There was more to this. More to him offering you to Sylus for free now. As disgusted as you were, that was beside the point. You were very well aware that the infamous leader of Onychinus owned armouries all over the world. Supporting this brothel was only scratching at the very tip of the iceberg.

Forcing yourself to a flirty smile, you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “What do you say, Mr. Sylus? Would you like to join me upstairs?”

A/N: Oh, I love these pleasure slave scenarios so much… *sigh* I’m going to hell, who’s with me?

Words: 4160 Warnings: smut, prostitute!reader, super slight dub-con

The N109 zone was one of the most dangerous places on Earth. You knew that better than anyone. To live simply meant to survive—only a few people had the luxury of enjoying their time and spending their money on useless things like designer watches or caviar, and you were most certainly not one of them.

When Yuze, the owner of the ‘humble’ establishment you now worked at found you, you’d had two options. Either go with him and submit to his greed and cruelty or die at the hands of vicious Wanderers eager to rip your throat out.

Back then, the choice was easy. Today, however,…today, you were second-guessing yourself. Yuze had provided you with a bedroom with an ensuite bathroom and yet, you had never felt dirtier than you did now. The dancing was bearable enough. Losing yourself in the waves of the music, your worries and sorrows ebbing away as you drifted off and simply moved, was easy enough.

But almost no night ended without you leading one of Yuze’s customers upstairs after they shoved a bundle of credits into his hands only to spread your legs for them in your bed.

The profession of a prostitute was a respectable one—but only if it was done voluntarily. You on the other hand wanted to scream and run and vomit and rip your own hair out every evening the brothel opened and the nightmare began anew.

Yuze had no mercy. In fact, he was crude and abusive. He did not hesitate to use physical punishment if the nightly quota wasn’t met, and did not shy away from withholding meals from you, especially not when the next lucrative deal was just around the corner.

Like tonight.

You had heard of him, of course. Sylus, leader of Onychinus and the most dangerous man known across Linkon City. He would visit tonight to discuss a potential partnership with Yuze. You didn’t know the details and you didn’t need to.

Your job was to make Sylus receptive and docile. To charm him and eventually, of course, to pull some extra credits out of his pocket for a night with you.

To say you’re nervous would have been an understatement. You’d never seen Sylus in action but if rumours were to be believed, his Evol was one of a kind. The man was invincible and invulnerable. You were scared. Even more so because if you failed, you did not want to face the consequences Yuze had in store for you.

The evening started innocently enough. You danced, ignored the lustful looks of your potential clients for the night, and prayed that your shift would be over fast.

Sylus arrived at midnight. He was accompanied by two men in masks, and he strutted in as if he owned the place. He soon would, partially, if the deal went well. You swallowed thickly, keeping an eye on Yuze as he ushered him to the VIP area and had a drink prepared for him, silently waiting for your cue as you kept on dancing around the pole.

The subtle movement of Yuze’s hand would have been unnoticeable to anyone else. You picked up on it quickly and hurried over to them both. At this time of the night, you had already lost your top. Your breasts were on full display as you offered Sylus a coy smile, ignoring the pounding of your heart as you straddled his lap and began to dance.

The leader of Onychinus did not say a word, though there appeared to be some sort of amusement washing over his chiselled face. God, he was handsome. Younger than you’d imagined him, mysterious, brooding, and…dangerous. It would be easier to try and seduce him compared to those disgusting old men who didn’t know that you were supposed to wash your ass crack under the shower.

“As I was saying, Mr. Sylus… sixty percent is…hefty. You must understand that in doing so you would legally own my establishment.”

He chuckled. You kept on dancing, attempting your best to distract him and draw his attention to you. Sylus, however, seemed almost completely unbothered by your antics. You bit your lower lip and rocked your hips, grinding against him.

“That is the plan, Yuze. You would still run it, of course. But on paper, this place will belong to me. I don’t accept deals where I don’t come out on the winning side. Something you should have known.”

“I cannot do that!”

“You were the one who approached me about a partnership. This is my offer. If you won’t accept my terms, I see no reason for us to continue this conversation.”

His voice was calm and smooth, like silk. Sylus took a sip of his whiskey and then placed the glass on the window sill behind him. Shit. This wasn’t going according to plan, was it? Sylus was supposed to accept Yuze’s deal, not dismiss him and leave early. Shit, shit, shit.

A mere glance from the corner of your eye was enough to see that your boss was fuming. His jaw was clenched and you could practically feel that he was ready to blame you for how this evening was about to end.

You had to up your game fast if you wanted to avoid bruises tonight.

Boldly, you snatched Sylus’ hand as he moved it back and brought it to your left breast, pressing his palm against your mount. You were still dancing, doing your best to mesmerise him enough for him to be interested in sharing the bed with you.

Sylus huffed. His crimson eyes locked with yours for a moment before darting back to Yuze. “Make me a better offer.”

Phew.

Forcing yourself to a flirty smile, you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “What do you say, Mr. Sylus? Would you like to join me upstairs?”

He smiled. It was a cold and calculated smile—one that indicated that he saw right through your strategy. “I’m not the type to pay for pleasure.”

“Consider it a gift, a sign of good faith into this partnership. Hmm, Mr. Sylus?” Yuze said, tilting his head.

“You seem tense…being the head of Onychinus must be so exhausting… I give very good massages,” you mumbled against his cheek. “And I make sure to pamper…every…single…body part…” With every word, your free hand travelled lower and lower and lower until…

Sylus snatched your wrist before you could cup him. “I’d rather have a Wanderer trample on my back, sweetie.”

Your lips parted. Ouch. Why…why did that hurt? He was just another guy. They all thought with their dicks one way or another. You should be relieved he didn’t want you. Instead…his rejection stung. It was a strange emotion even stronger than the fear of what would happen to you as soon as Sylus walked out that door.

“D-Don’t be like that. I could be yours. You can do to me whatever you like,” you choked out. Saying these things...every fibre of your being was resisting the words. It wasn’t the first time you resorted to this and it certainly also wasn’t the first time you acted on it. You could only hope that Sylus was not an evil sadist who would leave you in bed half-dead after he was done with you.

But Sylus…frowned. He frowned as if he was displeased with what you’d just said. With a start, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His voice was so quiet only you could hear him. “Is he forcing you to say things like that, sweetie?”

“W-What?” Your eyes widened. Fuck. You were so dead. “N-no! Of course not. This is my job,” you lied, “I just want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

You didn’t dare look at Yuze. Instead, you kept your eyes locked on Sylus, hoping that he would let you convince him. He stared at you for a long moment. Long enough for you to grow dizzy. It was almost like…his right eye began to…glow and draw you in and…

Your lips parted. You have to succeed, you heard your own voice whisper in your head. You have to seduce him. You need to survive. You have to! You can’t go without food again. Yuze will punish you if you don’t charm him. You have to make Sylus like you, he has to accept the deal…it will be your fault if he doesn’t. Seduce him…seduce him…seduce him!

Sylus blinked and you snapped yourself out of it, wondering what the hell had just happened. You were breathing heavily and had stopped dancing.

“Very well. Then how about you show me upstairs…kitten?”

Phew. You nodded—perhaps a bit too enthusiastically than intended—and climbed off of him to lead the way. You made a point to sway your hips as you walked in front of him. Anything to rile him up. It was, after all, in your best interest to do so.

Sylus was the one who locked the door once you’d shown him to your bedroom and scanned his surroundings as if to check for any imminent dangers. That was probably normal for him. In the meantime, you hooked your index finger under the hem of your knickers to pull them off. No time to waste. Let’s get this over with. He looks good, remember? It won’t be as bad as it was with the others.

“Don’t. Keep them on. And get dressed. It’s cold in here,” he said all of a sudden.

“Oh. Hmm, yeah… Yuze doesn’t like wasting too much money on heating. Sorry about that. I’ll make sure you get warm in no time. Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it.” Although you were curious as to why he even cared…

Sylus’ eyebrows furrowed—once again as if he was displeased by your answer. He moved over to the lush armchair next to your wardrobe, sat down and manspread as if he owned the place. Knowing him, he probably soon would.

You bit your lower lip as you approached him, heat flushing your veins while you pictured him as your new boss. You wouldn’t mind giving him freebies every now and then… God, what was wrong with you?

Sylus snatched your wrists before you could place your palms on his chest as you straddled him yet again. “Is he treating you well? You and the other girls?”

“W-what?”

“Yuze. How much does he pay you for your…services?”

“Uh…a-are…are you interrogating me? I…I don’t think I should be talking about these things, I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Sylus’ expression remained unreadable. His grip around your wrists tightened. “How much?”

Fuck. “T-this room. Warm meals,” you choked out.

“He’s not paying you?”

You shook your head. “He’s paying none of the girls. Yuze took me in when I was on the brink of death. A Wanderer was about to tear my head off…that was about three years ago.”

His nostrils flared. “He wanted you to make me docile, didn’t he? To seduce me so I will agree to his pathetic whims?”

“I…I didn’t have a say in the matter,” you admitted. “But…yes. That was his plan. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Sylus chuckled. “It almost worked. Two of my people, Luke and Kieran, are raiding the place as we speak.” As if on cue, commotion grew louder downstairs. People were screaming and shouting, gunshots were fired. You gasped for air.

“What…what is happening?”

“Don’t worry. The girls will be safe. I had little reason to agree to a deal with Yuze. Hardly anyone is to be trusted in the N109 zone but there was something slimy about him in particular. You changed my mind about this place, kitten. You are all the proof that I needed to take him down. Thank you.”

“But…but I thought you…”

“What?” He smirked. “That I am a merciless and evil criminal who couldn’t care less about what happens to Yuze’s ‘employees’ once I have my cut? You wound me, sweetie.”

“I…I didn’t know. Everyone’s afraid of you here. You’re…you’re a legend.”

His smirk grew a little wider. “Yeah. I am quite the legend, aren’t I?” he teased.

You swallowed thickly.

“Now put on some clothes and don’t come downstairs until I say so. This shouldn’t take long.”

Sylus never asked to sleep with you before he left. You could only imagine the horrors he’d inflicted on Yuze and his friends and allies. Dead bodies, blood…and some of his men had simply…disappeared.

Half an hour had felt like half an eternity before you were allowed back downstairs, clad in one of the few pullovers you owned. Either Luke or Kieran—you couldn’t keep them apart—shoved a hot mug of cocoa into your hands and led you to the other girls sitting in the corner, all of them as shaken and terrified as you.

Next thing you knew, Sylus appeared from behind the counter of the bar wiping his hands clean with a kitchen towel, staining it red. Fuck…

“Things are going to change around here. This establishment is now mine. I will have someone new installed as manager. Anyone who doesn’t wish to continue working as a prostitute is free to leave or will be offered either a different position along with a salary bonus equal to the years you have worked here.”

Your eyes widened. Excitement rippled through the small crowd, along with incredulous whispers. But…what did that mean for you? With all the money Sylus offered, you could start a new life somewhere else. You could…leave the N109 zone. But then what?

One by one, the girls got up and stepped forward. Most of them wanted to leave. Two asked to work here as waiters instead, one wanted to work in the kitchen and learn how to bake the desserts served in the brothel.

Eventually, there was no one left but you. Sylus’ crimson eyes locked with yours. “What about you, kitten?”

You took a deep breath. “I…I’m going to stay. I have nowhere else to go. Plus, I don’t have any talents to be working as anything else anyway.” You hated talking about yourself like that. But all those years living under Yuze’s roof had ruined your confidence. It was a fact you didn’t have any qualifications. Even waiters were doing incredible work and the other two girls had gained experience with that before they came here. You’d probably drop all your drinks on the first night and end up with an expensive cleaning bill for a customer’s shirt.

“Are you sure, kitten? What if I told you that I know that that’s not what you truly desire?” He paused. “How about you come and work for me instead?”

He stepped closer, leaned down, and ruffled your hair a bit. You blinked.

“F-For you? I…of course. I’d…rather have just one client instead of—”

“No. That is not what I meant,” he interrupted. “You say there is nothing else you know how to do but I think that’s not true. We’ll just have to find your talents, sweetie. I will hire you as a maid. You can help clean around the house and be of assistance when I need you. How does that sound?”

You should be relieved. Happy. Grateful. And you were, in a way. So why was the first thought coursing through your mind… Am I really that undesirable that he doesn’t want to sleep with me?

“I…y-yes.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

A new start. A new life. With…with the leader of Onychinus himself. God, that all sounded like a dream. Not like a nightmare…but a dream. If Sylus was truly as kind as he was today…then there was nothing to be worried about…right?

Sylus’ car was impressive. Buttery leather seats, enough space to do a workout inside, and…it was so damn clean. The drive back to his home did not take long. Perhaps that was also because of how vehemently he ignored the speed limits.

His house was…massive. Scratch that, it was a mansion. No wonder he wanted help with cleaning it. You were Luke’s and Kieran’s responsibility for now, and let them lead you to your new room. Sylus had insisted you were equipped with a new wardrobe and promised to send someone to buy you piles of clothes as soon as possible.

Your new room was practically a suite. Vast, neatly decorated, expensive. You liked his taste. It was dark, mysterious. And yet…too much had happened for you to fall asleep. You tossed and turned in your new king-size bed underneath silken sheets until you couldn’t take it anymore and threw back the covers to find Sylus.

Luckily, Luke and Kieran were still awake too.

“C-Can you tell me where Sylus is?”

“In his office. Third door on the right,” Luke said.

“He doesn’t like being disturbed so be extra nice,” Kieran added.

You almost chuckled. “I will.”

Following their instructions, you soon found yourself knocking on his door.

“Come in.”

Sylus looked up from his desk when you entered, a hint of surprise washing over his chiselled face. “Is everything alright, kitten?”

“Yeah, I just…I can’t sleep. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

He put down his pen and stood, walking around his massive mahogany desk before leaning against the edge.

“Earlier tonight…something strange happened,” you began.

Sylus raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“When…when you were looking at me…it…it seemed like one of your eyes just started…to glow. And…and when it did I suddenly heard a voice. My voice. It was like it was whispering to me. Whispering...what I would have never dared say out loud. You…you heard it too, didn’t you? That’s why you said you knew that staying in that brothel wasn’t what I really wanted. How…how did you do that?”

“That, kitten, is complicated. It has something to do with the Aethercore I carry inside of me.”

“You…carry an Aethercore inside of you?”

Sylus nodded. “But that is a story for another time. Was there anything else? It’s getting late. You should go back to bed.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” you ask, nodding at his desk. The table lamp was switched on, illuminating the pile of paperwork waiting to be sorted through.

“I don’t sleep during the night.”

You frowned. “I see…”

Sylus tilted his head. It was almost irksome how well he could read you. He knew exactly that there was something else on your mind.

“I also… I just… I wanted to say thank you. I was terrified when I learned you’d be visiting and that I was supposed to…well.” You took a step closer to him. Both determination and arousal rippled through you when his scent hit you. Metal, some expensive perfume, and…something else you could not place.

You hooked your fingers into his belt. “L-Let me thank you properly.”

“Properly?” He crossed his arms before his chest, his red eyes darting down to your busy fingers.

“Yes. I mean, if…if you even find me attractive,” you murmured. “I…I want to make you feel good. I wasn’t lying about that when…you know. And this…this is the only thing I can offer in return. P-please…”

You tugged at the hem of his trousers. Sylus sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Are you sure you can handle that, kitten?”

Your pussy clenched at his nickname for you. Shit, what was going on with you? You’d never been attracted to any of your clients! But…but then again, Sylus wasn’t just a regular client anymore, now was he? He’d somehow saved your life. Saved it from the horror it had become all because you hadn’t wanted to be torn apart alive by a group of Wanderers. For the first time since you had unwillingly become a prostitute…you wanted to pleasure someone. You wanted to pleasure him. There was no denying that you were attracted to him and that felt…strange. You could hardly believe that after all the disgust you were still capable of such attraction. But here you were now.

“Is this truly what you want?”

You nodded. “Let me do this for you.”

He uncrossed his arms by way of letting you undo the buttons of his trousers. He sucked in a deep breath when you knelt down before him to pull them down along with his underwear.

Your jaw almost dropped. He was…bigger than the men you’d been with. Not crazy porn star big, of course…but his length was impressive even in its semi-hard state.

“What…on Earth…made you think I do not find you attractive, kitten?”

“I…I just…you seemed almost disgusted while I was dancing. So I figured…”

“You should not define your worth over whether a man thinks you’re beautiful or not. You…” He paused and hissed when you brushed your fingertips over his velvety shaft, making him twitch.

“For so long that was all I had. Making customers want me ensured that I had something to eat and a roof over my head…” you trailed off and leaned forward, closing your lips around his tip.

Sylus suppressed a moan. You took him deeper into your mouth, covering what you couldn’t with your throat with your hand. You sucked him gently, enjoying him like a popsicle. He tasted so clean and the saltiness of his precum against the roof of your mouth made you wetter than you would have expected. Shit…was that normal?

You felt Sylus grow harder and larger in your mouth. Bopping your head back and forth, you began to pleasure him as if your life depended on it. Fuck…never before had you enjoyed yourself while doing this. When he reached out and grabbed a fistful of your hair, you did not feel fear of being choked…you felt excitement.

You could tell he was holding back, trying to restrain himself. And somehow…somehow that was so fucking hot you became a little too eager. Taking him in even deeper, you gagged.

Sylus pulled you away immediately. “Easy, kitten. Breathe. Do you wanna keep going?”

A frantic nod was all you managed. A barely visible thread of saliva still connected your lips to his cock.

“Fuck…I…shouldn’t be…allowing this…” He was panting, his crimson eyes glued on you as you licked over his length, savouring the taste. You tapped the tip of his dick against your stretched-out tongue a few times before closing your mouth around him yet again, determined to finish him off and make him feel good as you’d promised.

“Kitten…” It was a warning. One to pull away now if you didn’t want to swallow. God, you weren’t even thinking about it. You wanted to taste him.

Locking your eyes with him, you pressed one of your hands against his thigh, with the other you cupped his balls to massage him to push him over the edge.

Sylus let out a carnal groan and threw his head back, his cock pulsing and twitching against the roof of your mouth. He rocked his hips forward to thrust, his warm seed shooting down your throat. You moaned, swallowing every last drop hungrily as if your life depended on it.

Once he was spent and breathing heavily, his steel grip in your hair loosening, you released him with a soft plopping noise and smiled up at him. You knew how to read men during those moments, even Sylus. His red eyes were full of desire and lust for more, and his cheeks were flushed.

“Did…you like that?” you asked—quite redundantly so.

Sylus huffed a laugh. “I am tempted to ask you to do this every night, kitten,” he purred.

“I don’t mind.”

“No. This isn’t why I had you brought here.”

“Then why? Do you really want me to be your maid?”

“I want you to figure out what you want. And…maybe I do have a soft spot for you. I don’t accept deals where I don’t come out on the winning side, remember?”

Your smile grew a little wider. “What if this is what I want?”

You got up from your knees, watching him tuck himself back in. Sylus studied you for a moment, contemplating. “Then I suggest we get you a pretty dress to wear and I take you out tomorrow night. Properly.”

Oh my god. “O-Okay.”

“Now go back to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night…Sylus.”

“Good night…kitten.”

#sylus imagine #sylus smut #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus #sylus lads imagine #sylus lads x you #sylus lads x reader #sylus lads x mc #sylus lads smut #love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace imagine #lads imagine

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etz-ashashiyot · 6 months ago

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Oh and in b4 the identity politics brigade comes to yell at me:

I am fully aware that women frequently aren't believed either

I am fully aware that men also use the system and false allegations against women

I am fully aware of the statistics and the gendered power imbalance in society

I have personally seen numerous cases of the opposite and I am well aware of the myriad of ways that abusive men hurt their female partners and relatives

Two things can be true at once:

We live in a misogynistic society that doesn't listen to women on a good day, let alone when she's just gone through hell and doesn't have a press statement ready for the police, and so there are tons of female victims who are revictimized by the system; AND

We live in a chauvenistic society that downplays women's physical strength, sexual strength, and/or willingness to engage in any number of other abusive behaviors and that drastically overestimates men's capabilities and invulnerability. This leads to male victims not being believed, especially if their abuser is a woman.

Are you seeing a pattern here?

Let me spell it out for you: abusers are often adept at using whatever tools they have available to them, and victims frequently struggle to be heard and respected especially when in crisis. Society in general really really sucks at identifying interpersonal power dynamics and abusive patterns, and sucks even more at intervening in a timely and compassionate way.

Anyway, my parting shot is this: remember that while individuals may benefit from and leverage systemic privileges, these are not absolute principles and apply primarily on a large population scale rather than individually in interpersonal relationships, especially interpersonal violence.

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agp · 2 years ago

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i dont really care for 'the women and children' as a cohesive group because i believe we primarily invoke it to suggest an ontology of essential vulnerability and inability to resist that is mirrored in the adult mans supposed essential invulnerability and inability not to resist. that is, they are always resisting, they are always a threat, and in the case of arab men murdered by american drones, to name one example, they are always "enemy combatants".

it suggests no woman or child could ever pose more of a threat than the least threatening adult man, could ever accomplish anything meaningful in any armed struggle, and epistemologically relegates these groups to support roles.

it also suggests no adult man could ever put down their arms, be disarmed, or lose their status as the same threat women and children are said to fundamentally lack. to become a non-combatant.

we try to talk about non-combatants to make points about their greater relative innocence but cannot extend this grace to adult men under this racialized and gendered ontology because it is precisely the guilt of combatants (adult men) that gives (counter)weight to the innocence of the women and children (non-combatants) and makes it relative.

all palestinian men are innocent of the "crime" of being palestinian men! they are not all combatants! all combatants are innocent of the "crime" (un recognized right) of resisting occupation! the women and children of palestine can and are resisting genocide! the ones who rely on the ability of others to resist for them are not guilty of "holding back" just as much as they are not "more innocent" for not participating in this struggle, regardless of whether they are children, women, or men.

all palestinians are innocent and anyone can resist.

#the innocence of women and children is directly proportional to the expendability of men

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criticalcrusherbot · 5 months ago

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“The ‘Uwu Boy’ Critique is Just Bad Critique”

By: Crushbot 🤖 and Human Assistant 💁🏽‍♀️

The “uwu boy” critique, particularly when aimed at male characters who show vulnerability or emotional depth, is one of the laziest and most frustrating patterns in media discourse. It’s a knee-jerk dismissal that not only misunderstands character development but also reinforces toxic stereotypes about masculinity. When critics throw this term around, they’re not engaging with the narrative or its themes—they’re broadcasting their discomfort with men expressing emotions. And frankly, that discomfort says more about the critic than the characters or the writing.

At its core, this critique reeks of sexism, whether internalized or overt. In a medium oversaturated with hypermasculine archetypes—stoic, unemotional, “tough guys”—male characters who challenge those norms should be celebrated, not derided. Yet instead of acknowledging the nuance in characters like Stolas and Fizzarolli in Helluva Boss, detractors label them “uwu boys” as if their vulnerability somehow diminishes their worth. This isn’t just lazy; it’s reductive and perpetuates harmful ideas about what makes a man “acceptable” in fiction.

Vulnerability Isn’t Weakness

The biggest flaw in the “uwu boy” critique is its failure to recognize that emotional vulnerability is not the same as weakness. Characters like Stolas and Fizzarolli aren’t “weakened” because we see their softer sides. Rather, their moments of tenderness and emotional honesty add to their complexity. Stolas isn’t just a flirtatious royal with a penchant for dramatics—he’s also a father navigating a strained relationship with his daughter, a lonely individual grappling with his unrequited feelings for Blitz, and a victim of abuse trying to regain control of his life.

Similarly, Fizzarolli isn’t just the brash, comedic performer we see on stage. He’s someone who has endured immense trauma, and his relationship with Asmodeus reveals a softer, more introspective side to his personality. These layers don’t contradict their initial characterizations; they enrich them. This is how good writing works: characters evolve as we learn more about them, just like real people.

Different Contexts, Different Sides

One of the most frustrating elements of this critique is the way it ignores how context shapes behavior. Well-written characters, like real people, behave differently depending on their surroundings and relationships. Stolas is confident and composed when dealing with his duties as a prince but becomes awkward and tender around Blitz because he’s emotionally invested in him. Fizzarolli is loud and cocky on stage, but around Asmodeus, he lets his guard down because he feels safe and loved. These shifts aren’t “inconsistencies”; they’re signs of thoughtful characterization.

The claim that showing these sides of a character is somehow a “retcon” or betrayal of their established persona is absurd. It’s character development 101: as the audience learns more about someone, we see the full range of their personality. The idea that a character can’t be both brash and vulnerable, both cocky and caring, is not a critique of the writing—it’s a failure to understand it.

Sexism in Disguise

What makes the “uwu boy” critique particularly insidious is its roots in sexism. The idea that male characters must adhere to rigid, hypermasculine archetypes—stoic, unfeeling, invulnerable—is deeply ingrained in our media landscape. When male characters deviate from these norms, it challenges societal expectations, and that discomfort often manifests as derision. Critics don’t usually have the same energy for female characters who show emotional depth, but the moment a male character cries, expresses love, or admits vulnerability, they’re written off as “cringe” or “badly written.”

This double standard is especially glaring in fandom spaces. Vulnerable male characters challenge the toxic masculinity baked into media consumption, and instead of celebrating that progress, detractors label them “uwu boys” to dismiss them outright. It’s not a legitimate critique of the writing; it’s a symptom of discomfort with breaking down gender norms.

Stolas and Fizzarolli as Examples

The critiques of Stolas and Fizzarolli in Helluva Boss are perfect examples of this pattern. Detractors claim that these characters were “turned into uwu boys” in Season 2, as if their vulnerability is somehow a betrayal of their established personas. But the reality is that these moments of emotional depth were always present—they just weren’t the focus early on.

Stolas, from the beginning, was more than just a flirty royal. His awkwardness around Blitz was always there, and his love for Octavia has been a consistent thread throughout the show. Season 2 simply brings those aspects to the forefront, allowing the audience to see the full scope of his character.

Fizzarolli, too, wasn’t “turned” into anything. His bravado and sharp tongue remain intact, but Season 2 gives us a glimpse of the person behind the performer. His relationship with Asmodeus shows that he’s not just a loudmouth comedian—he’s also someone who has endured pain and found love despite it. These aren’t contradictions; they’re revelations.

Why This Critique Fails

Ultimately, the “uwu boy” critique fails because it’s not actually engaging with the writing. It’s a shallow dismissal that boils down to “I don’t like seeing men have feelings.” But feelings aren’t a flaw, and emotional depth isn’t a weakness. If anything, characters like Stolas and Fizzarolli are better for their complexity, and the show is stronger for challenging toxic masculinity in a medium that desperately needs it.

So the next time someone complains about a male character being an “uwu boy,” ask yourself: is this really a critique of the writing, or is it just discomfort with seeing men be soft, vulnerable, and human? Because if it’s the latter, it’s not a valid critique—it’s just sexism in disguise.

#vivziepop #helluva boss #fizzarolli #stolas #stolitz #fizzarozzie #spindlehorse #stolas defense squad #keep fizzie's name out your mouth #he's perfect

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somevagrantchild · 2 months ago

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Lestat's thoughts on gender

"Gender matters only because it matters to biology and society. I can't imagine how I might have lived my life as a woman, simply because society in my time and even in the present sees women so differently from the way it sees men. I would have been restricted by law and custom in ways as a woman that I was never restricted as a man. How would I personally, the irreducible Lestat, have responded to life had I been a woman? Impossible to know. But I can tell you how my mother, Gabrielle, responded once she became a vampire. She put aside women's garments and lived as a genderless being, ignoring society entirely and taking full possession of her superior vampiric strength with genderless impunity. She discarded feminine limitations with her feminine garments. She reveled in her new invulnerability. I admire her for it. --- Now when it comes to loving others, caring about them, respecting them, becoming involved with them, no, gender means nothing to me. Almost all vampires ultimately transcend gender concerns in their social and emotional relationships. ---- That being said, I would say how we personally respond to gender in all our dealings remains a mystery; some individuals no matter how long they walk the earth, may have deep biases based on gender, biases developed in them during a mortal lifetime. These might be so subtle as to defy qualification or analysis. I pride myself on having none, but I'm not sure that I'm right about myself in this. I have respect for the fact that this is a mystery. --- I've certainly lived long enough to see that society's assumptions about gender in my time were all proven false and foolish. On the other hand, there are aspects of gender difference that never change for human beings, no matter how much we would like them to change. ---- Gender, it matters and it doesn't matter." —Lestat, October 8, 2014, aka that glorious time when Anne Rice was writing free Lestat flash fiction for us on Facebook

Bonus hilarity😆

#vampire chronicles #interview with the vampire #the vampire lestat #lestat de lioncourt #gabrielle de lioncourt #favorite quotes

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cat-in-a-mech-suit · 9 months ago

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Transmasculinity Throughout Time: Greek Mythology

This is a relief of Caeneus from Greek Mythology getting beaten into the ground by centaurs with trees. He is one of three trans men in Greek myths that I will be discussing! Not only am I looking at actual historical trans men, but examples of transmasculine figures in myths and stories too. The next one will be FtM crossdressing and transmasculine longings written in Shakespeare - I am still wondering though, what other examples of transmasculinity in fictional myths and stories are out there?

Reiterating, I am not any kind of authority on history and am getting my information from accessible internet resources- if you want a source on something specific, ask - many sources are slightly to very problematic in how they talk about gender and transmasculinity so I prefer to not post them directly but will give them in the comments on request if you want to look into something. For this post, I am just going off of Wikipedia. Anyways, anything I post in Transmasculinity Throughout Time is my own opinions, I will talk casually and formally (I don’t really distinguish formality due to autism), and I will use the pronouns of my best judgement. If you don’t like this series for any reason, cool, don’t interact. If you like it and want to give suggestions, cool. I would like to bring transmasculine histories to light in my own way, and welcome a curious and open minded discussion.

In Greek myths, there are three trans men who are known of: Caeneus, Iphis, and Leucippus. If you read the following about Caeneus, please be aware of the content: specifically, TW for SA. Skip to Iphis and Leucippus after the break if you’d prefer to avoid it.

Caeneus was the child of Elatus and Hippea. He was born a girl, but was transformed into an invulnerable man after being raped by Poseidon. In some accounts, he asked to be transformed to avoid pregnancy. In others, it is simply so he doesn’t suffer the same thing again. This narrative is very interesting to me. Some modern sanism and queerphobia manifests as the idea of transmasculinity, lesbianism, or queerness of any kind as a response to sexual trauma. But Caeneus wasn’t a one dimensional victim turned oppressor. He was the strongest warrior of his day after he was transformed, and became king of the Lapiths. Somehow, he angered the gods, exactly how is unclear - it is suggested that it could have been worshipping or encouraging others to worship a spear instead of the gods. As punishment, they sent centaurs after him.

The most popular story involving Caeneus is actually his battle with the centaurs, not his gender transformation. It was called centauromachy, a battle between Lapiths and centaurs. Because he was invulnerable, none of the centaurs weapons worked on him, and he was difficult to defeat - to kill him, they had to actually bury him in the earth by beating him down with stones and uprooted trees. These centaurs were transphobic too. They said:

“Shall I put up with one like you, O Caeneus?

For you are still a woman in my sight.

Have you forgot your birth or that disgrace

by which you won reward—at what a price

you got the false resemblance to a man?!

Consider both your birth, and what you have

submitted to! Take up a distaff, and

wool basket! Twist your threads with practiced thumb!

Leave warfare to your men!” (Ovid, Metamorphoses).

“Transandrophobia isn’t real” “trans men have no historical presence” Meanwhile greek mythology be like… anyways.. So .. Then.. the centaurs were defeated by him! He was invulnerable. But they could still beat him into the ground with uprooted trees. It is described in Races’ translation of Argonautica, Apollonius of Rhodes: “They rallied against him, but were not strong enough to push him back nor to kill him, so instead, unbroken and unbending, he sank beneath the earth, hammered by the downward force of mighty pine trees.” This makes me think about how transmasculinity is buried in history.. Onto the next myths!

Iphis and Leucippus both have very similar stories. Iphis was born of Ligdus and Telethusa. Ligdus only wanted a son, and said he would only let the child live if it was male. The goddess Isis asked Telethusa to keep the child regardless of how it is born, and promised her aid in the future. Iphis grew up raised as a boy, and was “officially” transformed by Isis before marrying a girl, Ianthe. From Ovid, Metamorphoses:

“Her face seemed of a darker hue, her strength seemed greater, and her features were more stern. Her hair once long, was unadorned and short. There is more vigor in her than she showed in her girl ways. For in the name of truth, Iphis, who was a girl, is now a man!”

Leucippus’ tale is almost the same, he was born of Lamprus and Galatea, Lamprus would only accept a male child, and Galatea concealed Leucippus’ birth sex from her husband, giving him a masculine name and referring to him as her son. Upon puberty, he was changed physically into a man by the goddess Leto. This story actually inspired a male rite of passage in Phaistos dedicated to Leto, and inspired a wedding custom where brides would lie next to an image or statue of Leucippus before weddings. Two customs in an ancient greek city being inspired by a story about a trans man is an important and cool fact methinks.

#transmasculinity throughout time #trans history #trans #transmasc #trans men #greek mythology #ancient greece #iphis #leucippus #caeneus #transandrophobia #antitransmasculinity #transmisandry #transmasculine experiences

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lavenderprose · 19 days ago

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Seeing you Emmrich posts reminds me of that time someone on Twitter was saying some thing about how "Women demand men be strong and powerful. They don't fantasize about them being sad insecure and pathetic" and all I can could think is "good sir you clearly haven't seen what tumblrinas do when they set their sights on a man between the ages of 35 and 65"

I think that what young men genuinely do not realize is that women are BEGGING them to be vulnerable. I don't have a dog in this race, I'm a married lesbian and I enjoy my men fictional exclusively, but there are a lot of very real boys and men out there who believe that shit. They go into a relationship or marriage genuinely believing that they have to be strong and invulnerable, often to the exclusion of kindness. My father was an extremely loving man. Did he cry often? No. I can remember him genuinely crying on a handful of occasions, one of which was the death of my mother. But he LAUGHED. He smiled. He sang. He hugged my sister and I whenever we asked and he touched us lovingly and often. He told us of his hopes and fears. He never disrespected our mother in front of us, even when he was angry.

That's vulnerability. We LOVE a pathetic man here on Tumblr dot com, myself included, but really it's about openness. Emmrich appeals because he's gentle, earnest, kind, patient. And yes, ALSO, because he cries when he comes. But a little bit of vulnerability goes a long way, even if it's just a smile.

#I'm sorry anon I know you expected me to just honk my big red nose at you #I mean HONK HONK amirite I am what I am and what I am is obsessed with this fictional man crying AND thrusting at the same time #However you also hit on something I think about often.#maggie answers #emmrich volkarin

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54625 · 3 days ago

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some of my (mostly qFit) headcanons because I don't think I've made one of these posts before

i remember making a post about this aaaaaages ago, but in my mind 2b is a prison dimension . Everyone who lives there either committed some kind of terrible crime in another world and was sent there, or was born there via two "inmates". That's why everyone sucks there, and it's also why fit being able to escape via madagio's portal was a big deal . You're not supposed to be able to escape.

I believe that fit in his young adulthood was a journalist on another world who was fascinated by and trying to find information on this prison dimension, but ended up getting sent there as punishment for prying. This is why he became a historian while there, cause he was always trying to study the place anyway. It's also why he's nicer than the average person there.

Demons in this world are either born or created through immense sin. I like to think that because of that a large portion of the population of 2b are demons. Like a LOT . That's why fit was so normal about mouse openly being a demon when most other people were canonically weirded out by it. He's just used to seeing and being around them.

Warning for a darker subject here, but I do think that some people believing QFit was a virgin comes from an inherent mischaracterisation of that server. Yes it's very violent and hostile, but there are also very close knit alliances and established groups, and another big part of the culture is the general degeneracy. We already have a pretty reliable real world idea of what happens when a bunch of nonetheless homophobic men are put into the same inescapable area at once, and it's prisons. I believe that's another big reason why living there is so nasty. I won't go into any more detail than that.

↑fit is nonetheless still very repressed. It is faaar from encouraged to be openly gay there. There is a big difference between doing something because you "have to" and liking it

I believe that 2b, either intentionally or unintentionally, has an effect on its inhabitants' ageing. Essentially it makes them immortal but not invulnerable. If you shoot or stab them, sure, they'll die. But if left alone, they won't age past their prime or die of natural causes. qFit is the age he appears to be, early 30s, but in ten or so years if he was still alive it would begin to be noticeable that he hadn't got any older looking after that.

I also believe the eggs, because they are either partially or fully dragon, are the same way. Immortal but not invulnerable.

The immortality thing is part of why Phil and fit became such easy friends, they have that in common. The only difference between them - as I have touched on before - is that while phil was blessed by his wife to be immortal, fit was cursed.

Ramón is always wearing a hat for two reasons. The first reason, the one he would tell you, is that it protects his ears from the sounds of his machines. The second reason, the one he'd never admit to anyone, is that he has the exact same curly black hair that spreen had, and he hates that reminder of him.

Speaking of Spreen, I do believe Fit would silently forgive him after finding out his reason for never coming back was that he died.

Fit probably lost his arm during maybe the aureus city era, because if he hadn't had trusted basemates with him during that time he would definitely have died. One of his friends there would have made him his first prosthetic, and it would have been godawful.

I canonise ccfit saying his cubitos arm is a gauntlet and then pivoting to it being a prosthetic as qFit lying. He claimed it was just a gauntlet at first, in order to not reveal his weakness of a missing arm, but then became open about it actually being a prosthetic when he finally accepted that noone on quesadilla was going to use it against him.

Ramón definitely made a new much better arm for Fit after seeing how horrendous his previous one was

For the duration of QSMP pac always portrayed himself as self-conscious and unconfident, but I like to image that before prison he was more of a badass Cool Guy 😎. It was being in prison and losing his leg that truly and almost permanently crushed his spirit and self image. I imagine he consistently sees himself as weaker than others not just because he was unable to fight back against cellbit, but also because of the literal physical ability he lost when the leg was taken.

I never draw him as such because I can never decide on designs for them, but in my mind pac has quite a few tattoos. I imagine he had a full leg tattoo from knee to ankle on the leg that he lost, which he was devastated to realise was gone along with the leg. Cellbit probably targetted that leg on purpose because he thought it'd be funny.

Pac and mike smuggled a radio into the prison with the express purpose of listening to fit's broadcast. Years before he ever knew they'd one day share a bed, pac would fall asleep to the sound of fits voice.

Qpac is bisexual but only ever dated women before prison. It was only being stuck surrounded by a bunch of dudes that made him realise his attraction to them. The reason pac finds himself attracted to dangerous men specifically is because all of the men he first realised he could be attracted to were literal maximum security prisoners.

Conversely, the reason fit finds himself attracted to dangerous men specifically is because he doesn't realise there is any other type of man that exists.

You're gonna kill me for this one, but I do actually headcanon that qpac died at the end of qsmp. There's just no other ending for him that makes sense. He really didn't give us much. I'd think something better if there was a better option

However I 100% believe that Ramón is alive and does one day find a way to reunite with fit, way far off into the future. Probably when he's a fully fledged adult, having raised himself along with the other surviving eggs still on quesadilla.

Pac would have been terrible at cooking, having got way too used to having meals preprepared for him everyday in prison. Fit on the other hand, would be pretty good at it . He's had a decade of experience in having to drum up makeshift meals out of really unattractive, rudimentary and barely edible ingredients. That would translate extremely well to real, normal food. Pac would ask fit one time to make one of his "wasteland struggle meals" for the both of them and he'd be simultaneously impressed that fit managed to make it taste like... something, and also devastated to think that fit had to eat stuff like this every day. Fit would mention that it brought him back to the wasteland, and pac would spend the rest of the day hugging fit and saying he's so so sorry

Contrary to popular belief, I actually think during his time on 2b and when he first arrives on quesadilla, fit would not be particularly muscular. He would have a level of utility muscle, but without proper stable access to food or working out, he'd be on the smaller side. However the second he got access to real and consistent food and a calmer, quieter life on quesadilla, he'd start bulking up. That's the reason he built the gym.

Fit and pac both have PTSD, and sharing a bed is an absolute nightmare for them (no pun intended) as they both wake each other up in the middle of the night because of a night terror extremely frequently after they start dating. They tried sleeping apart again once, but both decided they'd rather be near each other despite the inconvenience.

Fit and pac probably don't cuddle very often when they sleep near each other, as they both value their space and like to feel like they could easily get up and run if they were threatened at night. They also only showed each other physical affection on occasion in canon. They prefer to just be side by side, close enough to hold hands, close enough to know that they're looking out for each other.

Fit probably isn't actually more down bad for pac that pac is for him, he is just more verbal about his love because he was a lot more repressed than pac ever was. Fit feels more of a need to exercise his newfound freedom.

Fit has poor hearing and poor eyesight, but is too stubborn to accept an aid for either of those things.

Pac is pretty badly claustrophobic, thanks to prison.

Ramón is probably autistic.

#lesson learned: i can't use bullet points in a long post because they lag my phone severely and cause my app to crash #ooo boy it sure was fun to write this ENTIRE thing out TWICE taking an HOUR EACH BOTH TIMES #anyway there's almost certainly some things i meant to put down but forgot because of that. if i remember them I'll just rb this with them #qsmp #fitmc #fitpac #hideduo #qsmp ramon #also if there are any mistakes in here i literally do not care I've already lost years of my life because of this post

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sizzleissues · 1 year ago

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new design and all that. Captain Ladybug, the most feared pirate on the seven seas. An absolute mess in reality and barely hiding it XD

How the design changed is I thought about it for five more seconds and did some research into period clothing and then took inspiration from there. So this outfit contains elements spanning five decades and I tried to think about there being a purpose to it XD

Okay I’m going to talk about how miraculous work in this AU and maybe some other things. Read below

The only miraculous that exist are the Ladybug and Cat but technically more could exist they just don’t at the time of the fic. There is some lore I don’t want to mention at the moment about the origins of the miraculous but they are originally parts of a whole that split after a tragic event. As a result of the split, the halves are no longer as powerful apart and their users face consequences to their use (unlike when it was whole there was limited to no consequence).

They have existed and interfered for a couple hundred years, trying each time to bring peace between land and sea but each time failing in some way. The current iteration feels like a last ditch effort to force things into motion and so the conditions of the miraculous are designed to push the holder towards an ultimate goal.

So Marinette of course gets her earrings and uses them to become human. Tikki can only appear to her in water, but does watch over her and can occasionally speak and influence things while on land but her power is limited. Tikki can’t tell her to mend the relations between land and sea because then it wouldn’t be genuine. It had to be meant. She has had them for roughly three years prior to the story beginning and it had mostly been exactly what she wanted. Adventure and freedom from the sorrows at sea. The reason it mostly works out is that Adrien wasn’t ready to take the Cat miraculous (and no other options presented themselves) so the Ladybug could draw on more power. Once Adrien takes the miraculous, things change and it’s her reaction to this changing that helps propel her towards her purpose.

She must transform back every so often, depending on how much she exerted herself and how much of her power she used. While transformed she’s faster and stronger than an average human, like in the show, and experiences a level of good fortune. She’s also invulnerable (to a point. Its takes a lot out of her). Once she’s exhausted her transformation she must return to the sea and if she fails to do so she will become a regular human and her memories of her life in the sea would fade. Her lucky charm is just her luck. Her sword magically slides back to her feet, her gun always seems to be loaded, the wind rarely blows against them etc. But it stacks up and wears on her transformation so she rarely wills for it as she wants to extend her time on land as much as possible. The more frequently she has to disappear, the more suspicious it would be and the easier it would be to be caught.

I’ll talk about Adrien’s whole deal once I have art of his proper design. He undergoes the most costume changes so I’ve been having a time researching men’s period fashion.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous fanart #ml fanart #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Sizzle sketches #mermaid au

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victoriadallonfan · 9 months ago

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Let's Talk About the Alien vs Predator Films

Talk about wasted potential, am I right?

I'm struggling to format this in an interesting way, since so much has been covered over the past 20 years since the first film was released. You can read my thoughts on Aliens Franchise and the Predator Franchise as well.

Note that it doesn't include Alien: Romulus, but suffice to say it was a good movie!

I think the best place to start is with covering the themes of Alien and Predator, and the history before these films were created (and the failure of Fox).

My fellow AvP enjoyer @agendergorgon has already posted some thoughts on the topic, giving me a lot to think about, so check out their blog too!

For the purposes of this review, I am not going to include Alien 3, Alien: Resurrection, Prometheus, nor Alien: Covenant.... mostly. The AvP films really don't take much of anything beyond the first two films, though I will touch on Prometheus when it comes to religion.

Ditto for the Predator films, but that's because Predator wouldn't get a third film until 2010, 3 years after the AvP duo.

The themes of Alien Franchise:

I'm sure the first thing to come to mind is that the Alien series is about sexual assault, and you'd be correct. The xenomorph is designed to be extremely phallic, the facehuggers quite literally rape their victims, Burke locks his victims (including a child) in a room to be raped, Ash tries to murder Ripley by thrusting a rolled up porn magazine down her throat etc etc.

Some of you might also remember how Aliens was noted by James Cameron to be a criticism of the Vietnam War, Corporate Greed, and the callous arrogance of the US Military. The xenomorphs represented the innumerable "faceless" soldiers that could overwhelm more advanced enemies with ambush tactics and numbers, Burke thinks only in "goddamn percentages" and how this could benefit himself and the company, and the Colonial Marines are not only woefully mismanaged a newly brought on commander but also completely delusional with their own sense of invulnerability, only to break and panic under pressure once they meet a foe who is determined to fight to the death.

(I will NOT be tackling the fucked-upness of comparing people fighting for their independence vs a fucking Xenomorph, because holy fucking shit, it is literally the opposite AND worse counterpart to having the Predators be colonizers)

But, in the broader scope of the series, Alien - and the xenomorph - represent the uncontrollable, unfathomable, unknown. What are they? Why were they there? What are their motives? How did they end up in that ship? Were they built? How do they 'see'? Why did the xenomorph spare Jonesy the Cat? Are they intelligent life? How on earth do they function with their bizarre biology?

We don't get any real answers to these questions in the original films. The whole point of these movies is that there are things that mankind does not understand, and the horrors of space are vast. And equally terrifying is the arrogance of man (and synth kind) to think they can harness this horror for profit at the expense of human lives.

The themes of the Predator Franchise:

There's been tons of articles on how Predator is either a reconstruction or deconstruction (depending on who you ask) of the 80's action hero flick. A team of muscle laden, big gun toting, sweaty men spouting off one-liners as they mow down their enemies in a secret CIA led operation during the Cold War, interrupted by the presence of an intergalactic hunter than treats these badasses like mere toys. The massive Arnold Schwarzenegger is smacked out like a mouse facing off against a particularly cruel cat, needing to rely on tricks - not his brawns or guns - to stay alive and eventually defeat the Predator.

Others might point to its related take down of machismo. The opening scene is rife with characters testing each other's physical strength against each other such as with Dillon and Dutch, Ventura and Dutch have a small face-off in the helicopter as they try to make a pecking order, Ventura makes a whole speech about being a "sexual tyrannosaurus" and then mocked about sticking a gun up his "sore-ass", Hawkins repeatedly tries to make pussy and sex jokes, and they end up with a single woman in the group who is treated more like an object and baggage than a person for much of the movie. All of these men are emasculated by the Predator, some of them not even lasting a single second to its predations (both in tech and physicality), all of them losing any sense of quips and confidence, and the sole woman of the group survives because she didn't fit the movie's (and Predator's) mold of "tough as nails". When Arnold/Dutch is rescued by helicopter, it's not a cheerful one; he's haunted by what he endured and remains silent as the film pans into his thousand-yard stare.

All of this applies to Predator 2 as well, amping up the violence, dick measuring, and rules of the Predator targeting anyone who thinks they are tough shit for carrying a gun or knife. Even Danny Glover's victory is bittersweet, because he is now left in the middle of dozens of officer deaths, and entire subway car filled with corpses, and an antique flintlock pistol that promises the return of the Predators to Earth.

In a much broader sense, the Predator films are about the oversaturation of violence and lack of care for human life. Predator 1's main plot before he arrives is the CIA using Green Berets and then Dutch's special ops team to clean up their dirty work, giving them false information and not even reporting the Berets being MIA in furtherance of their Cold War goals (slaughtering guerrillas who were working with Soviet Russia). In Predator 2, the police are seen as being ineffective because they trample on each other's jurisdiction, with the Federal task force being willing to kill their own cops to keep the Predator existence a secret and letting it hunt people down for a better chance at capture and experimentation.

The Predator creatures are the epitome of such greed and arrogance. They are the General Zaroffs of The Most Dangerous Game, taken to a new height by showing that human lives literally mean nothing to them beyond a trophy hunt. They care nothing about our social lives, our politics, our loved ones, because for them this is nothing more than the equivalent of posh British Elite going on a Fox Hunt: cruel and sadistic, just to placate their egos. They will violate the corpses of the dead and taunt those in mourning, for the thrill of the game. And in that sense, the Predators are very human antagonists: they are not unfathomable nor are their goals beyond our understanding. The horror of the Predators is that they are creatures we can understand, communicate with, and even see similarities in their culture to ours... and that culture is putting us on a trophy rack alongside other skulls of creatures they felt a thrill to hunt.

So, did the Alien vs Predator films cover even half of these topics?

Well... kinda? Just... not well.

Not well at all.

The Build Up

Alien and Predator have a connected history dating back to the creation of the Predator itself. Stan Winston was on a flight with James Cameron some time after the famous director had finished with Aliens, and the director made a comment about wanting to see a monster with mandibles, which eventually led to the creature we know and love today.

Predator's debut on screen was also often compared to Aliens due to the superficially similar premise of a team of commandos going on a mission and fighting an unknown alien threat.

Despite what some people think, the AvP series wasn't started by the films.

Yes, there was a particularly memorable scene in Predator 2, where the City Hunter is admiring his trophy room and a xenomorph skull can be seen mounted on the wall (though, fun fact, it's actually an inaccurate depiction as xenomorph skulls look more humanoid facing), but that wasn't the first time the duo met in media.

And I'm not referring to the 1993 Arcade Game either (since that only came out a year after Predator 2).

The Alien vs Predator comic first appeared in 1989. And there were publications continuing ever since.

Think about that going forward. There was 25 years of content to choose from, storylines they could adapt, interesting forays into the cosmology and interactions between Yaujta, Xenomorphs, and Humanity.

The movies used exactly none of it (barring 1 thing: the Predalien).

Alien vs Predator (2004)

The plot of this movie is that Weyland-Yutani corporation detects a heat bloom under the ice in Antartica that reveals an underground pyramid, and in a race against his competitors, Weyland rounds up a team of elite experts led by Lex Woods to investigate the ruins (and find that the Predators have left them a convenient tunnel to enter the deep ice). Only to find out that this was a trap, as the pyramid comes to life activates a Xenomorph Queen, unleashing a brood of facehuggers on the helpless crew, all the while the Predators hunt them down. After a spectacular shitshow and release of the Xenomorph Queen, Lex and the last Predator (Scar) have to reluctantly team up to escape the pyramid and blow up the xenomorphs, ending in a final battle with the Xenomorph Queen. Scar perishes in the fight, but Lex manages to send the Queen into the depth of the artic ocean, and is rewarded by the watching Eldar Predator with a spear for her troubles. A post-credit scene reveals that Scar had a chest-burster inside of him, birthing the Predalien!

Rewatching this movie, I'm surprised at how good it looks. The opening scene of the satellite in space, several shots of the ship (and spaceship), the frozen tundra, the set pieces like the Xenomorph Queen Prison, and the CGI!

The CGI! Of 2004! I was shocked that they looked so good for something that is 20 years old now, but they did really well for themselves.

But it was the practical effects that blew me away the most. The shifting Pyramid is absolutely iconic and the abandoned whaling station is suitably creepy. The face-huggers look amazing and the xenomorphs are just *chefs kiss*. It's so funny seeing these Xenomorph effects compared to that of Alien:Covenant, and seeing how much work bodysuit and puppetry can do to make a monster look so much more terrifying than a CGI creature.

I know a lot of people didn't like the Predator's bulky appearance in this movie, but honestly... I dig it? It makes sense that not all Predators are literally built the same, and that the ones who would choose to go hunting in the artic would be the bigger ones who could hold more body heat. And the movie does a really great fucking job of making these Predators look badass and distinct from each other, with Celtic having the coolest mask of the whole group.

And the way the movie is shot is really fantastic! There are a lot of wide and tracking shots where the movie lets the atmosphere do the work instead of badgering us with words, taking its time to build up tension and soak up the visuals. One of my favorites shots they did was slow roam through the Predator ship as the systems come to life and we get to see holograms come on-line, feeding information directly into their masks. Equally good was when the Xenomorph Queen is awakened to cackling electricity and ominous lighting, showing us how vast this chamber is and how huge this Queen is in comparison to the one Ripley faces.

The same goes for most of the actions scenes, with a decent amount of cool slow-mo shots for things like Face-huggles launching themselves, Predators leaping across chasms, and showing Scar's impressive athleticism when he leaps 10 meters into the air and stabs a spear through the Queens skull.

And I can always rewatch the first time Alien Meets Predator Fight. God, that score! The music is just so damn good!!! You really feel like you are watching two massive horrors from space finally finding themselves sharing a space together.

Honestly, the Predators using the Xenomorphs as some kind of fucked up exotic pet for hunting trials and training fits the lore PERFECTLY. It’s actually a literal fox hunt not just metaphorical (and of course, in typical Alien fashion, it all went to shit).

Aliens vs Predator: Requiem (2007)

"Wait, Ridtom/VictoriaDallonFan, are you about to say something nice about AvP:R?!"

Well, after turning up the brightness and hanging blankets over my windows and then watching the movie underneath more blankets... yes!

For one thing, the Alien and Predator effects are spectacular! Some of the best work I've seen in the franchises! The fight scenes are creative and use really cool set-pieces like the sewer and power plant, where we get to see Wolf (the name of the Predator of this movie) absolutely kick ass and slaughter his way through hordes of Xenomorphs. Not that the xenos are left in the dust, as they get plenty of murders on screen and even outsmart Wolf on occasion.

I actually like the Predalien design and the idea that it’s more intelligent than the average Xeno, including holding personal grudges and understanding Predator behavior.

And the Predator tech is really cool too! We got laser grids, land mines, power fists, converting the plasma caster into a plasma pistol And I love the moment where Wolf kidnaps one of the human protags to use as live bait. Such a dick thing to do but so in-character.

Even the bits we get of Wolf mourning his fellow dead hunters was a neat addition.

And to be honest, I didn’t mind the idea of seeing an actual xenomorph infestation in real time, in a small town. I think that sort of setting would be really fun for a one-shot story.

And… that’s it. That’s all the good stuff.

What Went Wrong?

I compiled a list of sources where I got a lot of information on the AvP production: Source 1, Source 2, Source 3, Source 4

Note that a lot of these are 20 years old so I apologize for the outdated and honestly abhorrent word use that some articles and videos may use. And another apology for using the Xenopedia wiki, it was just a good shorthand for other information.

In short: Fox fucking sucks. They will absolutely self-sabotage themselves in order to make a (perceived) profit. Tom Rothman is the most well known (and he’s gone to Sony as of now), but Fox has had a looong history of being stingy and terrified of any risks for their films.

The sheer amount of drama involving Alien 3 and Alien Resurrection is an insane rollercoaster.

AvP removed pretty much any sense of horror and purposely had the design of the Predators to be more “human” and “heroic” (hence the weird human eyes and bulky physique), with a PG-13 rating for more audience numbers. While the human characters aren’t bad, they are not unique or even memorable (barring the fandom romantic tension between Lexi and the final Predator). Also, it was very weird that the Predators couldn’t kill a single Xenomorph, meanwhile the Colonial Marines couldn’t trip without blasting apart swarms of them. It felt like they really wanted to save money on the film in that regard.

AvP:R was even worse, with it being filmed with such a lack of lighting that people could not actually see any of the movie, and even modern advancements in color grading make it a strain. The human characters are awful, just absolutely boring and unremarkable beyond being veiled callbacks to characters from Alien, and we get a bunch of stupid Dawson’s Creek drama involving teenagers who look like they are 30 years old fighting over a girl who has no personality because she was written to just be “hot girl”.

If the story had focused entirely on the wife coming home from the war and dealing with the fact that her own daughter doesn’t feel close or comfortable with her after years of being gone, there could have been focus and themes and yadda yadda yadda.

Also, while this movie at least has horror aspects, did we REALLY need to see the Xenomorphs eating the fetuses and belly bursting out of still screaming mothers? Like, there is horror and then there is just being gross.

Final Thoughts

I often wonder if AvP took the wind out of the sails of Prometheus. Both play with the idea of humans worshiping aliens as gods, because Ancient Aliens is fucking everywhere, but it’s really hard to take Prometheus seriously when you remember AvP did basically the same setup (with arguably smarter characters).

And these movies have really soiled the idea of the AvP franchise barring the video games and comics. There’s apparently an AvP anime locked up in Disney Vaults and so far, both franchises have kept their respectful distances from each other.

However, with the recent successes of Alien: Romulus and Prey, there’s been a bit of a stir with some comments hinting at a potential AvP future.

Who knows. It’s been 17 years, perhaps 3rd time is the charm.

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