#out of bounds source engine

[outboundssourceengine]

[lixel-5]

ppl should lean into the video game aspects of tsp more

have the narrator complain about how crummy of an engine source is and wishing they were trapped in unreal or something.

2011-2013 tsp was in source (so was portal), while minecraft is java, 2022 tsp:ud and firewatch are in unity, and rocket league is in unreal. i think stanley would be able to feel the small differences between each.

like, source deals with lighting really badly and doesn’t do well with open areas, while (i think) unity and unreal are great at those. stanley would get a feeling of uncanny valley when he first leaves source.

physics objects are also treated differently, so the way stanley’s clothes lay on him would probably be different and cause some discomfort

i just wanted an excuse to talk about this head canon again. it adore it and it’s so cool to think about

[jofiah]

anyway here's a really rough screenshot of me trying to fit the out-of-bounds geometry into the pretty skybox texture wth the river

the plan is to make the terrain make sense, like this river is leading into that one in the distance

[apiptosis]

I still have no clue how Tumblr works but here's part 3

The third member to meet Danny is none other than our resident Demon brat.

It was rare that Damian could truly relax. In the league he had to constantly be the perfect heir, the perfect assassin. When his mother got him out it was just as hard when he had to compete with four adopted brothers, Gordon, Brown and the infamous Cassandra Cain.

It was difficult to find someone who could understand him and what he had been through and still put up with his bulshit. Damian was man enough to admit that his own attitude did not help him so when he found someone who would, whom he could let down his walls with, he grasped on with both hands.

"You seem to be thinking quite hard there Damian." A soft voice drew him from his thoughts. Damian looked her deep in her eyes freely let her peer at his thoughts. He knew she would not pry unless needed but he freely gave this.

"Just reminded myself how fortunate I was to have you." Damian admitted while they sat at their impromptu picnic.

It was rather rare for them to have dates in Gotham but today was a rare time where it was possible. The smog that always filled Gotham was almost completely absent today here in the forest at the edge of the Wayne property and perhaps most importantly, his father was off world with Cain and Grayson.

While most of the public believes Batman has a 'no metas allowed' rule, it was most certainly not true. What is true however is that his father is an overprotective idiot at times and would hover/spy onto their date.

"Dam-"

Whatever Raven was about to say was interrupted by a small sonic boom from just outside of the property that had both of them on their feet, their little picnic forgotten.

All too soon they found the source. A behemoth of a man was playing with a giant dog?

"Drop the stick boy!" The green beast dropped a log for want of a better word. "Good boy, wanna go again?" The beast gave a bark like artillery fire, tail waving like rotor blades. The man pick up the log and launched as though it was a javelin with a "Fetch Cujo!"

With one last artillery bark the beast bound after with great speed.

The man let out a deep sigh as he fell back into the shade of the nearby tree. "Man I wish I had more off days like this. Mhmmm, people? Hello there. Didn't think there would be people this far out. I'm Danny."

The man, Danny, waved as he lazily greeted them from where he lay on his bag in the shade. Danny lay so openly and without care that they could easily observe him.

Danny was very obviously a meta, his lazy smile with far too many sharp teeth, elfin ears and skin that was almost paler than Raven's. Most glaring was his height at seven and a half feet and shoulders nearly half as broad. (see Drake I can learn your freedom units)

"Damian" "Rachel" they introduced themselves.

"You two out on a date? It's one of my rare days off so I was planning one myself but unfortunately my girlfriend's dad needed help so she's out of town with him and her brother." Danny offered up freely. There was no hostile intent as far as Damian could tell. 'His intentions are true and there is no amniosity. His mind is well protected though.' Raven shared with telepathy.

"I take it your job is rather taxing?" Damian prodded.

Danny snorted "Nah man, I'm a university student, Aerospace engineering. The degree is kicking my ass but that's due to the amount of stuff I have to do. It's like they are afraid that I will have free time because I swear some of my projects and tests aren't for engineering.

Last week I had to write a chem exam and yesterday I had to submit a project that I'm pretty sure was a business model in disguise. If my luck holds out I might get a psych test next week. Ugh I'm already half dead, now their trying to get me to fully dead."

That was... concerning. It sounds like danny was possible rogue material and the university was trying their best to keep him from actually going rogue.

"So your taking a break and playing with you dog?" Raven asked.

"Yeah, Cujo is a sweetheart but it's hard to play with him here since people keep attacking him when he's in his large form." Danny explained as the dog bounded back without his stick. Worryingly there was a bit of blood on him. The dog had obviously been in a fight.

"Again buddy? Why can't they just leave you alone. Let's see what it's this time." Cujo dropped a finger on the ground with a very familiar green ring.

"He's a rescue I suppose but he was originally a guard dog and he was trained to disarm people when they attack him so I keep having to stash away guns and the like. With how crazy some people are I really should be prepared for things like this."

The ring seemed to sluggishly work it's way off of the finger before shooting straight for Danny.

"Daniel Fenton of -"Danny swiped the ring out of the air and held it in a tight grip. "Nah ah, I already have one green magic ring and I don't want a talking one on top of that!"

Danny rummaged through his bag before pulling out his thermos that smelled like coffee and chugged it like he was drakes long lost twin and managing to seal it into the thermos.

"There, I'll figure out what to do with that later."Sigh."well I guess we can talk at a later time but after that I'm heading home. Cujo shrink!"

The massive beast of a dog deflated like a balloon till it was the size of a small dog, happily trudging sfter it's owner as they hiked in the direction of Gotham.

With a glance to Raven, he confirmed that she was just as bewildered by the interaction as he was. Eventually they returned to their date, no use in letting odd encounters ruin their day, but Damian kept the name in the back of his head for now.

Later that night Damian found himself in the watchtower, going for the terminal so he could research this Daniel Fenton. He would have done this at home but Drake hogged the bat computer, nou doubt pinning after his coffee crush.

Along the way he found a small congregation of heroes trying to drown out Guy Gardner but also had to listen to his report as his hand was quite bandaged and missing a finger...

"On my patrol I nearly got Final destinationed by a flying log and then I got attacked by a green beast that wouldn't go down no matter what I thew at it. To make matters worse it was able to bite off my ring!" Guy complained incessantly.

Suddenly it made perfect sense why Danny was so upset but accepting of people attacking Cujo. How many times has this happened to him? How many times had the guy patched up his dogs wounds because people attacked him. How many of those time was it a hero who attacked Cujo? Damian could feel for both Danny and his dog.

"Sounds like you attacked a dog playing fetch and got upset when you couldn't hurt a dog for playing. Neutralizing an attacker's weapon is the bare basics of any guard dog's training." Damian found himself snapping at the man. Superman nodding along with him.

"Robin is right, while I am very concerned about you losing your ring, I am also concerned that you would attack a dog for playing fetch. I do the same with Crypto." Superman chastised Guy sternly.

[angelicpoison12]

𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

unkowingly meeting a vampire leader on a boardwalk... Strawberry laffy taffy and flirting ensues <3

tags: fluff, first meeting, david powers (the lost boys, 1987), vampires duh, teasing, flirting, he's kind of an ass i'm sorry ya'll, petnames (babe, dollface), gn!reader, no pronouns used :3

wordcount: 2.3k

SFW ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐

Summertime. The one time of year where the three key party elements were easy to come by: drugs, sex, and booze. A feast for kings, especially ones of the devilish Santa Carla, the Murder Capital of the World, is what the punks that hung around in the candy shops called it. Saltwater taffy and frozen yoghurt couldn’t keep away the bitter tang of unknown kidnappings. People disappeared left and right. It didn’t matter if you were a child, a teen, an adult... You were bound to be taken. By whom, you say? By them.  

The bloodsuckers.  

The worst part about being immortal in David’s opinion honestly was not being able to settle down with anyone. Being turned at sixteen had changed him greatly, not just physically, but mentally the most. David had to come to terms that he was immortal, even before his first kill. Santa Carla was his home. He found solidarity in his cave, his throne, his friends... Yet something was missing. David didn’t even particularly love Star, no, she was just another add-on for their coven. Star was too calm for him. David needed adventure. Someone who would be willing to turn for him. For it all. Flesh and bone, red or blue blood, no matter what it was. He needed someone.  

David could smell it. The air smelled like June sleepovers. A time where parties were rapid-fire, water became vodka, beds were never empty, and the air was always warm so there would be no need for clothes.  

He sat, perched atop a tree. The other boys were on the carousel causing some havoc like usual, which he often smiled at. But right now, he was far too deep in concentration. His nose kept catching a smell. It was floral and had a small touch of candy to it, kind of like a carnival. He sniffed long and deep, exhaling through his mouth, a faint glimmer of his pearly whites showing. It smelled fresh and free for the taking. A blossomed California wildflower in need of pollination, the yearning to be shown the real chaos of Santa Carla. The more he sniffed, the stronger it became. 

Flying across the moon, he continued his search, pupils dilated, heart stopping as the need to feed increase. David didn’t want to necessarily kill this person. Well, if they were a nazi, then maybe he’d consider it but...  

That. Fucking. Smell.  

It just kept getting stronger and stronger, overpowering all of David’s senses. He nearly stopped flying from how hard it was hitting his nostrils. If this was what a smell could do to him right now, he kind of wished he was human again to experience it in a normal way. When landed just behind the Santa Carla Ferris wheel, he had to press a hand to the metal engine, panting and coughing, attempting to catch his breath.  

Fuck... All of this, over a smell?  

He finally found the source. It was merely breathtaking. It made David’s cold heart finally pump for the first time in nearly eighty years. He could feel his face buzzing with unfamiliar warmth, and his eyes blacked out everything surrounding the figure he hyper focused on. With a deep inhale, and a deeper exhale, he confirmed this to be the figure carrying the intense fragrance. Jasmine flowers, cotton candy, and saltwater laffy taffy. He didn’t mind that this person didn’t exceed any forbidden beauty standards, or that they seemed lost in their own world. No, in fact he adored that. He wanted to hold this beautiful soul and suck it right out of their throat like a leech. A bloodsucking, life draining leech. That’s what David was once the charm had settled, and the first impressions had been rolled up. He was just a monster looking for his next meal.  

The interaction was happening before David could even stop it. With a smirk, his river blue eyes meeting yours, and a curl of his pointer finger, you were beckoned over. His eyes might’ve given the appearance of fresh water, yet the water beneath them was anything but. David had no fresh water whatsoever. It had been muddied and dirtied to the point where no oil spill could compare. He was filthy and unholy as vampires come. You seemed to be the opposite. Even if you weren’t a bootlicker, you’d be more of a saint than him. He burns in the sun, holy water makes holes in his flesh, and he feeds on human blood. If that wasn’t enough to disobey every word in the good book, then nothing would suffice it.  

“Hey,”  Just a singular word, that was it. And it felt tighter than usual for David. He was known in his coven for being the social butterfly, the one that recruited others, the guy that was the charmer. Why was this person making that all flutter backwards?  You didn’t say anything. You could only smile and nod, giggling, a little bashful under such an ethereal man’s gaze.   “I’m David. You new around here? You don’t look familiar.”  David hummed, leaning in closer, almost invading your personal space. You didn’t move away. The energy felt electric, nearly palpable. It could fuel a nuclear weapon if necessary.  “You could say I’m new...”  You responded. The words were shot and soft. David’s mere presence felt forbidden. Looking into his irises, his spiky blonde mullet being blown by the saltwater air, his high cheekbones. It was all too much. This was a man of undeniable beauty, that was a given. 

“You get any taffy yet? It’s gotta be the best treat down on the boardwalk,”  David said with a chuckle. You felt your eyes widen at his keen intuition... Or rather his keen nose.   “I did, actually! The strawberry was my favorite.”  “I can tell.”  You felt confused at first but gasped gently when he leaned in closer. His thumb tenderly rubbed over your plump bottom lip, swiping away some pink coloring from the taffy. David put his thumb in his mouth, smirked, and then stepped away.  “You’re... You’re gonna go?”  You asked suddenly, breath stolen and cheeks flushed red. David’s smirk widened. He knew he had your attention now. That was how you got the eyes of these little ones; with tender affection with slivers, slowly adding more and more until it became whole cakes, only to take it all away last minute. This was the perfect execution.  

“Yeah, I’m going. Why? Wanna join me?”  David asked, looking over his shoulder at you, the bottom of his frayed jacket flowing in the wind a little. You wiped some hair out of your face, huffing, feeling yourself tremble a little. A part of you did want to go with him. But you also didn’t want to risk anything. You barely knew him; he could be a kidnapper! Or worse. Then again what was worse than a man?  “I’m, uh... I’m okay. Will I at least see you again?”  Your voice wavered a little. You tried to hide your desperation the tiniest bit. For once David’s smirk faltered a little. He sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy layers atop his mullet. He then turned to fully face you, humming in a soft, silky voice,  “Maybe. I’ll be looking for you, baby.”  His voice made your heart thump nervously.  “I-I have a name, you know!”  You stammered, watching as he walked away, your heartbeat in your eardrums.  “I’m aware. I prefer ‘baby’ more though,”  David said, winking before disappearing into the sea of people amongst the rides and smell of roasted caramel smothered peanuts in Santa Carla.  

People are strange. Especially when you’re a stranger, among other strangers...  

It was a little embarrassing how desperate you had become. How could a two-minute interaction leave you so helpless, aching for more? You weren’t usually one to chase. Especially someone like David. But who could blame you? He was so charming, even from afar. His blue eyes spoke of depth that the Titanic couldn’t bear to see. The tiniest bit of baby fat on his cheeks, that warm, boyish smirk of his, those plump heart-shaped lips, the stubble that was just a shade darker than his bleached hair... You felt your eyes flutter rapidly as you reimagined him. Fuck, you were a goner for sure. 

The bed no longer felt cool, even with your window open, happily inviting the soothing winds of the beach inside. The breeze smelled salty and comforting, a smell that you had missed from your childhood. It didn’t ease the yearning you had for David though. 

“Knock, knock, dollface.” 

You could recognize that voice like a bloodhound with non-drooped ears. The raspiness from smoking, drinking, and partying like there was no tomorrow. A teasing edge that felt like a razor blade on sheep wool in the winter. David. David, the man with the sapphire eyes, spring corn colored hair when it was just barely gaining color from the warmth of the sun, skin that hadn’t aged in over eighty years of being undead.  “David.”  Your voice was a soft whisper. You had to rub your eyes once or twice just to make sure you weren’t dreaming, sitting up but feeling woozy.  “Easy, babe. You might be a little sleepy still. I wanted to come and see you before I went to bed.”  David said. He nonchalantly laid beside you, and you couldn’t help but nervously snuggle into his arms. Go to bed? You checked your alarm clock, jaw dropping.  “Go to bed? David, it’s almost four in the morning...”  You said weakly, yawning.   “Yeah. You could say I’m a bit of a night owl.”  He responded, winking.   “Y’know, I really like the petnames... But a real gentleman knows what the name of his courting mate is.”  “Huh. Classy.”  David said with a half-assed grin. He then politely asked your name, in which you gave it. He rolled it off his tongue once or twice, testing it, as if tasting a delicate wine for the first time. He licked his lips, closing his eyes for a split second to open them lazily at you. His eyes reminded you of a trusting cat that was at ease in someone’s presence.  “You’re different. Not like the others I’ve met around here,”  David commented, running a pair of smooth, leather gloved fingers up your arm. You shuddered, feeling goosebumps prickle the flesh. The cool beachy breeze filtered in and out, letting your curtains flow like angel wings in the moonlight, shadows basking and shifting in a blaze in your room.  “You say that like I’m special.”  “Well, it’s not often that I visit someone so early into meeting them. I don’t wanna play games with you... Something tells me that you’re not as patient as the others. Am I correct about you, dollface?” 

The way he said it. Fuck, he had to be fucking with you at this point, right? How could a guy that you barely knew read you better than your own mom? This was crazy. As if he were a mindreader or something.  “Jesus, you sound like those cheap palm readers down by the boardwalk.”  You laughed lightly, but visibly on edge. David’s smirk widened when he noticed your unease.  “Hey, hey... Easy now. I’m gonna go, okay?”  “Eugh, not this again... Come on, I was just getting comfortable with you again...”  You whined, exasperated when David got up, brushing off his jacket. He affectionately pulled the covers over your shoulders, smoothing the airy material. He then bent down to whisper in your ear,  “Relax. You act like I’m gonna disappear or something.”  “Okay, but-”   

You turned to attempt to see his face, only to see the creamy wall of your room. The moon reflected off it. He was gone, just like that.  

Choking, you scrambled out of bed, pulling the curtains apart to look outside, attempting to try and find the ravenous man that had left you howling harder than before. David was a torturous son of a bitch. A real nuisance even. Was he really being truthful, saying you were special? And that you’d see him again...?  Your head felt fuzzy and tired, and your heart felt sick with a sense of impossible loving. David was so out of your league. You ran your hands over your bare, prickled arms, feeling the flesh and sighing, closing your eyes. You imagined it was his instead. Those smooth leather gloves that had a cooling touch to them. You swore if you thought hard enough that you could feel his dangling earring against the pulsing skin of your neck, the blood rushing through your brain at what his lips might feel like pressed to your temple in the dead of night. 

No, no... None of that. None of those thoughts. It was bedtime, okay? You needed to settle down.   Climbing into the now achingly lonely bed, you pulled the duvet over your frame. You felt the tiniest bit of moisture prick your eyes. It wasn’t out of sadness, but a sense of cruelty. If this was David being ‘friendly’, then fucking hell, you didn’t even want to imagine what his ‘mean’ side could look like. Or if he even had one at all. 

Like they all say; tomorrow’s a new day.  

my sweet snowflake buddies!

@6esiree , @cosmiiwrites , @frxstwalker, @ithopi0s, @activesplooger, @dolly-lil-lambie

[felassan]

Game Informer:

"Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show by Alex Van Aken on Jun 27, 2024 at 01:57 PM In this week's episode of The Game Informer Show, the crew discusses our recent trip to Bioware for our Dragon Age: The Veilguard cover story, our Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree review, PS5-bound multiplayer shooter, Concord, a new battle royale from former League of Legends developers, atmospheric horror title Still Wakes the Deep, Dustborn, Luigi's Mansion 2 HD and even more! It's a packed show, y'all.  Watch the Video Version: [embedded link to Game Informer video titled 'Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show']"

(On YouTube, the description box for this video looked like this:)

[Article continues] "Follow us on social media: Alex Van Aken (@itsVanAken), Kyle Hilliard (@KyleMHilliard), Marcus Stewart (@MarcusStewart7), Wesley LeBlanc (@LeBlancWes) The Game Informer Show is a weekly gaming podcast covering the latest video game news, industry topics, exclusive reveals, and reviews. Join us every Thursday to chat about your favorite games – past and present – with Game Informer staff, developers, and special guests from around the industry. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast app. Matt Storm, the freelance audio editor for The Game Informer Show, edited this episode. Matt is an experienced podcast host and producer who's been speaking into a microphone for over a decade. You should listen to Matt's shows like the "Fun" And Games Podcast and Reignite, a BioWare-focused podcast."

"The Game Informer Show – Podcast Timestamps: 00:00:00 - Intro 00:02:42 - Cover Story: Dragon Age: The Veilguard 00:21:48 - Elden Ring Shadow of the Erdtree Review 00:42:20 - Concord Preview 00:59:04 - Supervive Preview 01:11:59 - The Plucky Squire 01:24:37 - Magic: The Gathering – Assassin's Creed 01:35:01 - Still Wakes the Deep 01:45:52 - Dustborn Preview 01:55:06 - Luigi's Mansion 2 HD Review 01:58:26 - Housekeeping"

"The GI Show podcast is a weekly recap of exciting releases, exclusive details on upcoming games, and in-depth interviews with developers. Watch or listen to a new episode every Thursday!"

[source]

----

Felassan's notes section of this post -

In this episode of the Game Informer show, Game Informer talk some more about their trip to BioWare's studio for the DA:TV cover story, when BioWare showed them hours of DA:TV content while playing it live.

Some notes from this and from what they said:

Wesley LeBlanc wasn't a huge DA fan and he went in with no expectations. The job to go to BW for this just landed on his plate due to other peoples' schedules. After seeing the game, it's probably his most anticipated game for the rest of the year and the one he's most looking forwards to

The game really wowed him and stuck with him, he said he is thrilled about it and is engrossed in the fantasy it's bringing

The visuals and world finally feel like what BioWare has maybe always wanted to make

This is the game where the team said, yeah, we feel fully in command of the Frostbite engine, and it shows

The world is more like Fable-type whimsy than prior DA games. It has a high fantasy feel

BW want new people to play the game. They're very aware that it's been 10 years since the last game and the game does a good job of catching people up

Rook as the PC really has no idea what's going on with Solas and all the other lore-specific stuff that's happening in the game, so they kind of act as the stand-in for newer players or people who have not caught up on the lore

But it's not just a game for newcomers, there is still a lot to chew on in the game for hardcore DA fans. BioWare were saying that they know their community, what it wants and what it's looking for out of these characters

Wesley enjoyed the music, visual design, and voice acting

Nothing that they saw about the game stood out as worrisome to him

Wesley has quite a lot of further stories to add to Game Informer's DA:TV hub

Wesley: "On the topic of the [Dragon Age] fanbase, I just wanna give a shoutout to that community, because, wow, I did not, I knew people would be stoked about this cover, but people are really stoked about this cover. And it’s really funny, the day that we announced it, I got like hundreds of new followers. Anytime, if I tweet about Erdtree or Destiny 2, I get like my normal amount of likes, like, a dozen maybe, y’know, whatever. If I tweet about Dragon Age, it’s like. Today I tweeted, ‘my next feature is coming at 3pm’ and it’s at 1000 likes, it’s so funny, like, this community is like rabid for information, which makes sense if you haven’t gotten a game in 10 years. But yeah, so like, shoutout to y’all, I’m loving you guys reading the articles and telling me what you wanna hear about. So if you have any questions or anything, get at me on Twitter for sure, and I will see what I can cook up with some writing for you. But yeah, shoutout to the BioWare community, y’all crazy.”

[source]

[thirstydemisexual]

Blood path || Jason Todd x vampire!reader

Prologue

divider by: @sister-lucifer

PSA: the povs will switch from second to third person as convenient. also I'm writing this as I go so yeah the pacing between the parts hopefully will be coherent

warnings: 18+ content, mention of r4pe, blood, a p3do getting what the fuck he deserves, (and bad grammar)

I've made mistakes, Lord struck me down Caught in a landslide, lost underground I hear them gates, swing open loud Come close to midnight, hell fade me down - Used To The Darkness by Des Rocs

The night was young. As the last shades of orange had just dissipated in the sky, Gotham prepared itself as their usual over abundance of criminals took to the streets. Some of them tho, were busy browsing on the internet, unlucky them.

Phil, 38, child predator who escaped Arkham a couple weeks prior, sneaking away as the Bat and the other heroes took care of the bigger fishes, was browsing on the dark web, looking on his phone at his favorite source of inappropriate child videos with a fist down his pants.

The abandoned building in which he resided, which was once an apartment complex before a villain attack, was located in a rather well populated zone of Gotham. Only two streets down from The Wayne foundation preschool.

Unlucky for him, his connection wasn't the most secure. Even a high schooler with basic computer science knowledge would have been able to dox him.

The dumb fuck didn't even try locking the door, not like it had a functional lock to begin with. But non the less, she still wouldn't be stopped by a mere lock as that men's refuge wasn't his home, thus the threshold didn't bound her. She was able to sneak into the premises without as much as a sound.

She was hungry and her face was morphed into an inhuman shape.

He doesn't even have time to scream or fight as her fangs sinks in his neck, tearing his carotid artery. Long claws shredding up the skin on his forearms as he tries to reach to stop his attacker. He stops squirming in seconds as she feasts on his blood, draining him in mere moments.

After she's done she quickly leaves the building, ready to go home and wash her hands and mouth throughly as just the mere thought of having touched that individual, let alone feeding from him, in her post feeding shame(and because of than mans nature) made her regret her choice of feeding.

Although she would never regret ridding the world of scum like him.

It was a weirdly sunny day in Gotham, Jason Todd noticed as he turned off the engine of his motorcycle after parking in the Gotham University parking lot.

Last night patrol had took a tool on him, and he was more exhausted than normal. He threw his book bag on his shoulder before entering the building, toward his first class of the day.

Jason normally quite enjoyed his Modern Literature class, but today all he wanted to do was crush on his bed at his safe house and sleep away until patrol hour came.

He sat down in one of the last rows in the room and crossed his arms on the desk before laying his head down and closing his eyes, he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

"Slept bad?" a familiar voice came from his side. Jason lifted his head up, a little smile at the realization of who it was.

"You could say that" His eyes didn't leave you as you sat down next to him and started to get your stuff ready for class.

"You could have skipped class today Jay, you seem way too tired to be here"

"And miss the chance to have our daily banter, no way miss" he replied, smirk on his face. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Seriously Jay, you can't keep coming to class looking like a zombie"

well technically I am a living dead so its not that out of character for me, thought Jason but didn't voice it out to her.

"I'll take a nap between classes alright? Come on, don't act like you wouldn't miss me if I were to go back home"

"You're incorrigible Todd"

"I don't hear you denying my claim" he kept smirking at you, you shushed him as the professor started class.

"Just rest your eyes, I'll give you my notes later" he chuckled a bit as he put his head down on the desk again,

"You'd be a light saver sweetheart"

If you could blush, the nickname would have done it. You tried to stay concentrated but your gaze would often stray onto Jason's figure, slumped over the deck, neck slightly exposed.

Looking so appetizing

You mentally slap yourself as you divert your eyes. That is Jason, one of your only friends NOT a charcuterie board.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm down. You didn't know why but even after feeding the thought and sight of Jason Todd just riled you up, hunger rising through your undead body and plaguing your mind.

Hopefully you'll keep being able to control yourself around him.

You have to

TAG LIST: @deimks , @amber-content , @deans-spinster-witch , @that-one-goblin , @snowy-violet , @thenightwingnerd , @zffhahaa

Ask in the comments to be added to the taglist

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk and President Donald Trump, publicly at least, are on good terms.

Yet when it comes to the staff in and around the new administration, it’s a different story. Just two-and-a-half weeks into Trump’s second term in office, a fissure has begun to emerge following Musk’s DOGE takeover of the US government, according to a half-dozen Trump loyalist Republican aides and advisers inside and around the administration who spoke with WIRED.

“I think it’s more the staff who have an issue with Elon than President Trump,” a Republican aide familiar with the discussions around DOGE and the administration tells WIRED. This staffer, like others, requested anonymity to relay sensitive conversations due to fears of retaliation.

In the space of a couple of weeks, Elon Musk and his associates have taken control of multiple government agencies, and a cadre of young and inexperienced engineers with ties to Musk have been given access to some of the most highly sensitive federal systems through DOGE. As Musk’s associates tore through the federal apparatus over the first weekend of February, a ride-or-die MAGA Republican operative who knows President Trump personally confided something to WIRED they never thought they’d find themselves saying before the past two weeks.

“There could be a collision course coming here at some point,” they said when asked if there’s a brewing freak-out over Musk in Trumpworld. “He’s getting too big for his breeches.”

The motivations of the people WIRED has spoken with cover a wide range. Some Trump campaign veterans hope White House chief of staff Susie Wiles will intervene, while other Republican operatives think the emerging rift is a problem despite having no personal animosity toward Musk. Others stand to gain personally or professionally from a Musk ouster.

Beyond increasing frustration over Musk causing headaches for the administration—which many of these Republicans consider to be more optics issues than full-blown policy disasters—the Republicans who spoke to WIRED had little to no idea what the proper chain of communication is supposed to be between agencies and the White House.

On Tuesday, Trump went on Fox News to declare that the new DOGE staffers were actually working in the White House, even though he said he hasn’t seen them. Minutes prior, a senior White House official told WIRED that “DOGE is part of the White House” now. (Confusingly, Trump established DOGE by repurposing the existing US Digital Service as the US DOGE Service, an agency under the Office of Management and Budget, via executive order.)

The Trump White House official said DOGE checks in with them “every day.” Yet when asked about the nature of these briefings and if they could offer any specifics as to whether they take place on a schedule or with early morning priority, a common practice for those tasked with liaising between agencies and the White House, they had none.

The DOGE briefings are “as needed,” the senior White House official said.

What distinguishes this staff-level discontent from the grumblings during the transition about Musk’s proximity to and influence over Trump at Mar-a-Lago is that actual policy decisions are being made—so many and so fast that it's hard for even the president's most loyal foot soldiers to keep track.

While the staff’s qualms with Musk are rather straightforward, nobody seems to know how to handle the high-velocity and high-volume nature of the DOGE government takeover.

“Listen, when the process is going this fast, from extreme outsiders, the communication is bound to be a mess,” says Matthew Bartlett, a Republican operative and former State Department official under Trump in his first term. Bartlett says the rest of Washington is getting their first real taste of the Silicon Valley–influenced attitudes driving much of the private sector, now in the form of twentysomethings from DOGE appearing on government calls.

“I mean, listen, this goes to the old adage of Steve Jobs … finding you in the elevator and saying, give me 10 seconds to tell me what you do, and justify your job,” Bartlett claims. “That is legendary stuff in the private sector—and maybe it worked—but, there are so many nuances to government that it makes addressing and making wide, sweeping changes highly problematic.”

Republicans who landed administration jobs aren’t exactly shocked a possible rift is emerging. “Can't say a lot of that surprises me to hear,” an administration source familiar with the discussions tells WIRED. Sources say many people have turned to Wiles as one of the only people who could even attempt to reign in Musk.

“Some of it is, she’s gotta balance being the gatekeeper to the president and having Musk kinda going rogue on a lot of this stuff,” says the second Republican operative familiar with the discussions. “I think she’s very smart and very talented, and very loyal to President Trump, so she’ll think about how to navigate that best.”

That, of course, depends heavily on her boss’s desire for any sort of gatekeeping or insulation from the possible looming Musk implosion many of these Republicans are bracing for.

“I’m just hearing the president is entirely enthusiastic about his efforts, and they are working together very closely,” a source close to Trump who speaks with the president regularly told WIRED. “And that comes from someone at the very top. Not him, but someone under him.”

Without any tacit approval to step out in front of the boss, the staff are left with no other viable options to express their reservations about how Musk has been operating.

Trump’s own awareness of what DOGE is up to appeared to be in question after his Oval Office news conference on Tuesday.

Shortly after he suggested that the federal government should deploy the young DOGE staffers as air traffic controllers—“We should use some of them in the control towers, where we were putting people that were actually intellectually deficient,” the president said—the same senior White House official quickly dismissed the comment as a serious proposal.

“Lmfao no,” the White House official told WIRED in a text message. “You guys need to learn how to cover him. He was making the point that smart bright people need to be ATC’s [sic.].”

Trump simultaneously suggested the DOGE staffers are young and “very smart,” but also that “some are young, and some are not young. Some are not young at all.” He has also insisted everything is fine around Musk’s role in the administration, and that the billionaire “can't do and won't do” anything “without our approval.”

Several Republicans in and around the Trump administration declined to speak on the record about Musk, with one GOP operative summarizing the dynamic as too hot to touch.

“Off the record—yeah, I’ve heard about some of this. But, look, as of now, I’m gonna keep out of the space between the world’s richest man and the world’s most powerful man,” a Republican operative in Trumpworld told WIRED in an encrypted message, followed by a smiley face emoji. (This Republican later agreed to let WIRED use this quote under the condition of anonymity.)

“I have to believe a lot of this is a performance by people who are worried about getting fired,” a Trump adviser said of the staff’s patience wearing thin with the world’s richest man.

The dynamic between Trump’s loyal aides and Musk, already riddled with varying degrees of mistrust over Musk bringing in his own people, is made all the more complicated by the X owner’s relationship with Florida governor Ron DeSantis’ entourage. Musk’s ongoing work with the firm Pathway Public P2 Affairs, which is staffed by several alumni of the DeSantis campaign, continues to irk MAGA loyalists who thought DeSantis’ allies would be frozen out of the consulting space after Trump’s victory. Now, they’re in “these positions of influence … especially with Musk,” says the second Republican operative. This is a particularly fraught dynamic when it comes to Wiles, who was iced out by DeSantis after she helped him become governor of Florida.

“There’s concern about Musk and others being involved with people who went to the mat for Ron DeSantis and spent hundreds of millions of dollars against Donald Trump,” they later added, after claiming the collision course with Musk could happen sooner than expected.

There were also several Trump advisers ready to go on the record to publicly bash Musk for what they considered to be his bungled get-out-the-vote effort through America PAC after the general election, should Trump have lost. WIRED reported extensively on the working conditions of door knockers for contractors for America PAC, including a group of canvassers in Michigan who were driven around in the back of a seatless U-Haul moving van and threatened to have their pay and lodging withheld if they did not hit their quotas for Blitz Canvassing, a subcontractor for Musk’s PAC.

“Operatives that really know what’s going on, people want an audit of America PAC for the sake of America First,” a Republican operative tells WIRED.

Some of these Republicans, it seems, want a DOGE for Musk’s outside political operation. “The point is, who is auditing?” says the second Trumpworld operative.

What’s most notable about these Republicans reaching the limit of their patience with Musk is that for the most part, they were pretty big fans until recent weeks.

“I think people have been very annoyed by it,” said the Republican who wants an audit of America PAC. “And I mean, look, I think Elon's really important. Everyone's grateful. It's just sort of an unnecessary situation.”

[ripplespate]

Portal if it were a minecraft painting

Took heavy inspiration from Kristoffer Zetterstrand (the artist behind the original minecraft paintings) with this one and used an out of bounds reference image from the original portal game, mostly as a study for perspective because it messes with me greatly, but also with trying to make the source engine look a little more pleasing to the eye, especially colour-wise.

If you like what I do, feel free to drop a like or reblog ☺️ oh and pixelated version below

[fatalism-and-villainy]

This is gonna sound like a morality cop sentiment without the context that I am a person who is deeply enthusiastic about the aestheticized, eroticized violence of NBC Hannibal. But with that context in mind… I often find myself deeply put off by how violence is handled in fanfic, particularly post-canon fanfic.

Because Hannibal is a very dark show. It is thematically centered on the darkness that resides in all human beings, as embodied by the irresistible black hole that is Hannibal Lecter - a theme that most obviously manifests in Will Graham’s corruption arc, but also in subtler, more mundane ways with characters like Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford, who keep repeating their mistakes despite their self-awareness. And it’s a very nihilistic show, concerned not with ethics but aesthetics, with the pursuit of beauty in the absence of moral scruples.

And yet, violence and death always feel significant on this show. Despite (or perhaps because of) the frequent surrealism and black comedy in their presentation, they feel as if they have gravitas. And that’s precisely because of the show’s aestheticism. The corpses we see are so exquisitely mounted, and presented with such deliberation and intention, both in-universe and in the show’s cinematography. And thus these deaths feel as though they have weight, as though they mean something - even if the only meaning we derive from them is that they look beautiful, if ghastly, or that they convey cinematic symbolism.

But there is so much Hannibal fanfic where the violence feels so… disturbingly banal to me. Where the deaths don’t have any narrative weight and are completely trivial to our main characters. And this is imo completely out of keeping with even Hannibal Lecter’s own philosophy on the show, when he says that life is precious - not because he places particular value on life’s preservation for its own sake, but because he fully understands the gravity of what he is doing. His arrogance and sense of superiority is contingent on the understanding that the taking of a life is a serious thing, and a transcendent thing. Not flesh and blood, but light and air and colour. And I don’t see much light and air and colour in the kinds of fics that I’m talking about.

This is all very much entwined with the fact that a lot of these representations of violence seem to be bound up in the understanding that the show, and Will’s arc, is subtextually queer. And it absolutely is. But I often get the sense that these representations of violence, and the relationship between Will and Hannibal, are trying to overlay them with a very 2020s Positive Queer Representation approach, wherein Will and Hannibal’s love is misunderstood by the world, and thus their violence, as the symbol of their transgression, has to be portrayed and received by the audience an unalloyed good.

And this feels hard to explain, because of course this is a show that is very much about the pleasures of transgression. And it invites the viewer to share in that pleasure, in all the aforementioned ways. It’s drawing from a very 19th century Wildean mode in that regard - a sensibility that irreverently collapses all transgressions into one, and deliberately refuses to differentiate between the morally repugnant and the merely socially unacceptable. And that is very powerful as an engine for queer subtext, as it takes the very real feeling of being corrupt and tainted and wrong and leans into the seductive glamor of that corruption, rather than attempting to counteract that narrative (in ways that can feel, when in the throes of internalized homophobia, shallow and artificial).

But, within Hannibal, that thrill of transgression is inextricably bound up in horror. The pull of violence - and the bond it engenders between Will and Hannibal - is irresistible, but it is also a source of deep seated pain and terror. And those things are fundamentally not separable. There’s a sublimity to violence, and to desire, on this show - pleasure and pain, wonder and horror, are intertwined.

And a lot of the portrayals of violence-as-transgression as symbolic of queerness in fanfic just don’t grasp this. There’s an attempt to paper over the horror and the sublimity of the violence, and how it serves the queer symbolism. It always strikes me as though writers grasp that symbolism, but are trying to fit it into the mold of representation-as-a-means-of-social-advancement. It never lands for me and it leads to the aforementioned callous disregard for life that I just find distasteful. Which is not to say that I think portraying violence and murder in a manner that strikes a similar note to the show is an easy needle to thread - certainly not. (Not the least because it’s hard to translate the show’s visual language to writing.) But it is something I notice and that breaks immersion for me very quickly.

[miniversse]

⭑”race my heart”pt.2⭑

╰┈➤ OTHER PARTS

⭑ lee know x female reader

⭑ synopsis: lee know, your academic rival strikes your path again during a motorbike meet up, and the lines of hatred and love begin to blur. as the engines rev and the wind blows hard, these lines intertwine and you both spill the bottles of emotions you had for eachother.

⭑ content includes: unprotected sex, spanking, degrading, non-idol lee know, non-idol reader, in established relationship, enemies to lovers, drinking, semi-public sex

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

as we zoomed through the city streets, the wind rushed past us, and i let my eyes fall shut to take in the cold air. the engine roared as lee know would pick up his pace and you had no other choice but to hold him tighter and push your body closer to his. the way he handled the motorbike, the way he wore his helmet, and the way the city lights reflected over him all made your stomach flutter…

you come to a slow stop at a red light and you gain your hearing again, hearing the other cars on your sides.

“you’re not gonna ask where i live?” you exclaimed over the loud rumbling of his motorbike

“i’m stopping by a kiosk first” the hues turn green and you squeeze him tighter, preparing to take off.

lee know stops at an empty, dark lot of a small kiosk. the parking lot haopened to be behind the building and you were terrified of staying alone.

“i’m gonna grab a beer, need anything?”

“i’m not staying here alone did you lose your mind?!”

“tough luck, i’m not risking my motorbike getting stolen because you can’t wait a few minutes in the dark” he takes his helmet off and adjusts his hair. god you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“i’ll be fast” he walks off, and you’re left waiting in the eerie lot that’s only light source was the kiosks ugly sign.

“so, where do you work now?” he cracks his beer can open and signals you to do the same.

“me? i’m the manager of a computer engineering team” the silence was long and painful, so you throw his question back at him. “what about you?”

“uh, i’ve got a job at my dads liquor store.”

lee know? the academic weapon? working at his dads liquor store? something’s not adding up.

“oh, that’s cool” you take another sip, storing all this information to bring to your friend next time you meet up. he gets on his motorbike, facing you and letting his back rest on the handles. his legs spread wide open, and he glances at you for long periods of time.

“you’ve changed, a lot” his voice is quite, as if embarrassed to state so.

“yeah, you too. no longer that teasing young fucker you were”

“who said i won’t tease you right now right here? hm?” he says confidently.

you scoff, and just before you get to answer him, he’s pulling at your legs and moving you closer to him. he pulls your body on top of his legs and his eyes search yours.

“answer me. how do you know i won’t tease you?”

“i-i don’t kno-“ his lips crash onto yours, silencing you once and for all. his lips were so smooth and captivating, pulling you in for every kiss delicately. he progresses to biting at your lower lip and sucking at it to numb the pain. you let out quite whimpers to address the pain, but he only seemed to go harder and faster.

“l-lee know” you struggle to voice his name between his tongue and mouth, but he places a hand on your back and keeps going.

“call me a fucker again, and i’ll be bound to do it to you. you hear me? whore.”

your developing a wet spot, and the dirty talk isn’t soothing it at all. your feelings of challenging him arise again, and you move your lips to his ear and linger for a moment.

“fu-cker” you pronounce every letter clearly, letting him know you’re up for a challenge and he squints at you in disbelief. his hands move to your shorts and he unbuttons and zips them, pulling you up to drag them off of you. you do the same to him, fighting his growing bulge to strip his lower body bare. vibrations of the engine intensified the knot in your stomach, and you squirmed in your place.

“get down you cumslut, let’s see how i can deal with you” you oblige and move down, the cold air caressing your skin.

“bend over, now.” he puts a hand on your back and another wrapping the top of your thigh, and your wet spot grew thinking of how he would fill you up.

his fingers hook the hem of your underwear and he pulls them down at a painfully slow rate, really teasing you. his fingers find his way to your folds and he feels how wet you are. he lets out a chuckle in your ear, fueling his ego. his fingers push into your opening and you let out a breathy moan. he doesn’t move much, taking his time and slowly exploring your cunt as if you weren’t infront of him fighting to keep your legs stable.

“does cumslut want my dick?”

“y-yes, fuck. please.”

“mmm, you can beg for it.”

your head falls as he curls his fingers inside of you and reaches your good spot frequently. you’re panting now and you needed him inside of you, to get rid of that knot in your stomach.

“p-please lee know, i need you inside m-me. please”

“who was better in school?” the question startled you, and you tried to stand your ground.

“m-me”. his hand strikes across your ass, and you let out a series of whimpers. he asked the same question and you gave the same answer for what felt like forever until you couldn’t handle the pain of him striking your ass, giving in to give him the answer he wants.

“y-you”

“good girl” he caresses the spot he abused, and it felt heavenly at that moment. he brings his head down to your neck, and he marks your skin with hickeys. 

you were growing desperate and put your arm behind you, trying to find his length to guide it into you. he notices your desperate actions and you felt his tip nudge your folds, and you moved back into him to take him in, bringing your hand back to hold on. his cock enters you, and your moans fade into the large and empty lot. he pounces into you at a painstakingly slow pace, slowly picking it up as he widens your tight hole.

“god you’re so tight, i’ll fuck you till you’re loose” and with that he fastens his pace, the sound of his body slamming into you joined with his hissing and repetitive “yeahs” brought you to the edge, moaning sweet nothings to him.

“let me fill you up cumslut, y-yeah?” he picks up his pace and moves into you at an ungodly pace. his warm release fills your insides, and soon yours do too. lee know pants frantically trying to regulate his breathing, and you process everything that happened in the last few minutes. he pulls out of you and helps you put your clothes back on, frozen shocked at his act of kindness. 

you sat back on his motorbike, finishing the remains of the warm beer. he had his hands on both sides of your legs, watching your every move. his face was perfect in every way, and he had a major glow up from your school days. the neon lights casted on his face, and his muscles peeked from his tank top.

“im not satisfied” his voice fills the silence and you look at him with a confused face

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that i need to fuck you till your dry” his confidence was something you envied, he would pierce his eyes into you every time he challenged you and it always worked. the growing emotions of desperation and love for him grew.

“are you sure you can? i don’t think you have the stamina”

“let me show you what stamina looks like” he pushes you to the back and rides in the front, placing his helmet on and bringing you closer to his body. you were on the city roads again, holding onto the man you once wished death upon.

⭑ hihi! im still debating whether to continue one last part or stop it here. if you’ve made it to the end, id really value your opinion!

⭑ TAG LIST

@rylea08

@captainchrisstan

@all4minnie

@strayywayy

[outboundssourceengine]

[animatronicappreciation]

Just a quick comment to say as someone who thought about designing animatronics unironically during high school, it's cool to see a blog like yours exists! I feel like there's so much untapped potential with animatronics given modern advancements, yet, it seems like a bygone thing still. It's a little strange to me. I look forward to appreciating them alongside like-minded people. ✨️

Well thank you very much, friend! I also wanted to design animatronics when I was young, but I was more on the art side than the tech side. I had my own animatronic band I designed hehe!

It truly is sad that animatronics outside of major theme parks like Disney and Universal seem to be a concept of the past. Personally, I don't believe that the general public has really grown out of the concept as much as corporate bigwigs seem to believe. I think that, instead, the technology outgrew the concept, or at least what we were able to have on an everyday consumer level.

Like, for example, Chuck E Cheese, which is many people's first foray into the animatronic community. The Creative Engineering and Cyberamic bots are very much a product of their time. They're clunky, they move unnaturally, they're dated, and they were incredibly poorly maintained in most cases. A lot of kids ended up being afraid of them as they aged so poorly. And who can blame them when CEC's employees just didn't seem to care? One time, I walked into the Omaha, NE CEC and Pasqually was disconnected, and his face mask was removed and placed on the amp next to him. The kids were terrified!

CEC tried to move into the modern era back when Studio C was conceived, and the Garner Holt products are admittedly impressive, even to this day. As far as pneumatic animatronics go, they run remarkably smoothly, and they are quite realistic compared to the source material! But the bots were too expensive to justify a full cast of characters, which was the beginning of the end, in my opinion. The characters only being present on the screens essentially killed the rest of the band. No one when I was growing up knew the names of the other characters or why they were even on the screen in the first place.

And, of course, eventually the Garner Holt bots too began to wear down with age and lack of maintenance, and they got a bit scary in some cases too! Ripped face masks, heads spinning around like owls, movements going out... kids were bound to be scared of that just as much as the cyberamics and CEI bots!

Then, with changes such as the removal of the curtains, no leadup to the show starting, volume being turned down, et cetera, there was nothing that attracted the kids TO the show. It was just an underutilized asset rotting in the background because there was nothing making it a focal point. Additionally, I think the cessation of the usage of license songs as a cost-cutting measure shot CEC in the foot, since it made kids care even LESS about the show. Having recognizable songs you could sing and dance to was a draw, and taking that away made the show even more irrelevant.

To get back on the topic of tech outpacing the concept of animatronics in places like CEC, think back to the Garner Holt bots. Those guys were pretty pricey when they were first introduced, and CEC nearly went under because of the attempt to convert every store to Studio C. Imagine, if you will, a concept like CEC or similar trying to have a show with modern, even MORE advanced animatronics! It's just simply not feasible, especially not in our current turbulent economy. And CEC has shown that even when places DO have animatronics, it's a matter of upkeep, which many places aren't willing to do. Minimum wage, minimum effort, right? (Not that I disagree with that concept in the slightest)

If you look at Rainforest Cafe, even they have been cutting costs with their existing stores. My local store, the Grapevine Mills location, removed their Atlas fountain some years ago (to this day the smell of mildew makes me nostalgic because of that fountain xD), and in their place, they put a family of tigers. These tigers are SIGNIFICANTLY lower quality than the rest of the animatronics in the store. They're jerkier, they move unnaturally, their cosmetics are clearly cheap... it's more than evident that they were cobbled together with as little money spent as possible. Does this make sense in a dying chain like Rainforest Cafe? Sure. But it certainly ruins the immersion, in my opinion. In my most recent visit, the tigers weren't even operational! It was pretty sad to see.

BUT. All is not lost! With the FNAF generation starting to grow up, kids and young adults are more interested in animatronics than they have been in a long while! Maybe someday it'll be feasible for a new animatronic restaurant or store to pop up! Something like CEC or Rainforest Cafe or FAO Schwarz where you can go and watch bots perform! We can only hope, I suppose.

-Mod Possum

[space-mermaid-writing]

Of monsters and men [IronStrange]

Summary: Some kidnappers fucked up big time and now Tony is bonded to this strange demon he continues to summon by accident.

Tags: demon!Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Whump, body horror, protective Stephen Strange, Stephen Strange needs a hug

Author's note: This is the last chapter of this story. Thank y'all for staying till the end. Beta by @harpywritesfic and @kvjjjjjj.

Ko-Fi | Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 1.8k | Previous

Chapter 20: The Children of Thanos

Tony had known for years something was coming. And yet, when it finally arrived, it was still a shock.

Tony had been captured by Squidward and Brute Force. They had stripped him of his tech after his armor had almost blasted Brute Force’s head off. Unfortunately, the head was still attached to his neck.

They called themselves the children of Thanos… well, Squidward did. What was his name?… Marvin or something..

Brute Forte… something something Obsidian, didn’t talk much besides some grunts and battle cries. The two of them had that brain and muscle dynamic perfected.

Tony was on his knees in front of them, in a side street, his arms bound tightly behind his back, the metallic ropes biting into his skin uncomfortably and restricting his movement, leaving him vulnerable.

The few blows he had taken – before and after he lost the nanites of his armor – were evident on his face; a bruise swelling under his eye and a cut on his lip that was still bleeding slightly.

Despite the situation, Tony couldn’t suppress a teasing smirk, fueled by adrenaline and perhaps a deep-seated desire to not show any fear to his captors. “Sorry to tell you, but you have the wrong guy,” he taunted them.

It had been years since he had last fiddles with an infinity stone; back then he didn’t even know what they were.

“But I have a message for your daddy: Fuck you!”

In response to his defiance, his captors roughly pulled his shackles higher, forcing them to stretch uncomfortably above him. The angle at which they were held caused him to hiss sharply, a quick intake of breath through clenched teeth.

He was acutely aware that it wouldn’t take much for his arms to break under the strain, or for his shoulders to dislocate – depending on what turned out to be the weaker link.

Tony stifled another noise of pain. He would not give them the satisfaction of showing fear or distress.

“Your constant chattering is annoying.” Maw seemed displeased that he had to put up with Tony.

“I hate to break it to you, but I-” Tony was silenced by another gesture of the alien. He moved his mouth but no sound came over his lips.

The engineer looked surprised. He even tried to yell; but to no avail.

So he glared coldly at Squidward – who ignored that.

“Our sources told us that the keeper of the time stone frequently visits Terra. And you’re the one who can summon him.”

Tony wondered how the hell some alien from space knew that.

Then again – it wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened. By now he was used to random people knowing all kinds of things about him.

Tony moved his mouth again, but he was still silenced.

The alien made another one of his magic hand gestures.

“… haven’t summoned him since.. I don’t know, a while. He decides when he wants to come over to visit.”

Maw's eyes glimmered sinisterly. “Then I’ll give him a reason to visit. He better make an appearance if he wants to keep you as a pet.”

That was outright rude, yet Tony sensed that playtime was over. Still, he willed a grin on his lips; it was all show, and displayed nonchalance.

“You should pray that you never see Stephen Strange. He wouldn’t like how you treat m-” Tony yelped when he was yanked up in the air by a magical force.

“Normally I prefer to use finesse,” Maw said, clearly irritated. “But it would be wasted on such a primitive creature as you. Cull Obsidian will do the job just as well.” He snapped his fingers.

It was clearly a cue for the other alien to step in. Maw waited a moment – but nothing happened.

The alien would frown, if it was possible with that weird face of his.

Maw turned around to look for the reason of Cull’s disobedience.

There stood Stephen in all his scary glory, a terrifying presence that filled the air with a sense of dread.

And he was angry.

It was as if the very atmosphere shifted around him, quaking under the weight of his wrath. Crackling with an energy that made even Tony’s skin tingle.

His cloak billowed dramatically behind him, a tumultuous tempest of deep shadows and threatening colors that curled and writhed like tentacles of an ancient creature, eager to engulf anything within reach. Each tendril-like fold of the fabric shimmered with sharp, glistening spikes.

A purple aura radiated from him, flickering ominously like the glow of an otherworldly flame.

The demon was oozing power.

In his hand swung the decapitated head of Cull Obsidian, his black tinted fingers clawing into the almost rock-hard skin. His eyes were wrought with fury as they briefly met Tony's, and suddenly the demon's head burst into a flame, as the fury overwhelmed him for a moment.

The effect was gone as fast, as Stephen channeled his emotion, utilizing them as a deadly weapon. There would be no mercy today.

He chucked the severed head forward and it tumbled with a sickening thud, rolling over the asphalt. It finally came to a rest at Maw's feet, a silent warning that echoed in the charged atmosphere, signifying a clear message of what awaited anyone who dared to lay their hands on what was his.

“Łɇŧ ħɨm đøwn,” he hissed with icy menace.

The very ground seemed to resonate with his ire, ready to unleash his full power upon anyone foolish enough to provoke him.

And Maw had provoked him greatly by hurting Tony.

The alien glanced at the head. He didn’t look sad or angered; instead he seemed almost eager to finally face a worthy opponent – as eager as an alien squid could be.

“I may have no further use for your chattering pet, but I will not take orders from you. Instead, it will be my pleasure to defeat you and take the time stone as my prize – unless of course, you want to hand it over to me voluntarily to stand a chance of surviving this.”

Stephen’s eyes darkened. When he started to rush forward, it looked like he was sliding over the ground.

Still standing in the middle of the street, Maw made a subtle motion with his hand – an intricate gesture that held the weight of a powerful incantation. Almost immediately, the previously dormant street lights flickered to life, their bulbs igniting with a vibrant glow. Imbued with mystical energy, they surged toward Stephen, intent on binding him in an unyielding grasp.

However, they did not even get close to him. Strong tentacles grabbed them from the air with ease and dropped them to the ground or snapped them in half as if they weren’t more than a twig.

Maw’s control over them was gone, while Stephen stood unscathed, still full of fury.

What followed was a fierce exchange of magical blows, each exhibiting raw power and calculated artistry.

Stephen unleashed his own arsenal of magic, countering Maw’s every move with spellwork that danced through the air with brilliant flickers. Incantations flew like arrows, crackling with energy and illuminating the battlefield, as the two figures engaged in this escalating duel.

Tony was still held in the air, unable to do anything but watch them. He realized, despite having been partners in battles before, he had never really witnessed Stephen using his full potential; not truly.

Sure, he had observed him utilize his immense powers on various occasions: casting spells, manipulating time and space, and fulfilling a multitude of tasks seemingly with ease. However, those instances had always felt calculated and efficient.

This was different. It should be alarming, yet Tony couldn’t help the growing feeling of awe in his chest.

This was a predator playing with his prey; and it was utterly inhuman. Maw had no chance, even though he had been powerful enough to knock out the Hulk and capture Tony, striping him off his armor.

The moment a spiked tentacle pierced through the alien’s body, the spell on Tony broke and he fell. But before the hard asphalt could meet him with all the unforgiving force of gravity, a softer version of the tentacles surged upward and cushioned his fall. They embraced him like the arms of a lover, and gently lowered him to his feet.

Tony turned his head back to Stephen, to make sure the demon was alright and uninjured.

Stephen was standing in front of the dead body, performing some weird spell. A purple mandala lit up under the alien – and then it looked like he was absorbing it.

Maw's features briefly appeared on Stephen's face, but it was gone just as fast.

Then Stephen appeared in front of Tony, his eyes shifting into something concerned. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

He frowned when he noticed the bruise swelling under Tony’s eye and a cut on his lip. With a quick spell he healed both injuries, leaving behind the warm tingle Tony was familiar with.

Stephen cupped the engineer’s face, turned it left and right to check for other, maybe even hidden injuries – scrutinizing every inch in search of any signs or marks of pain.

The intensity of his almost unearthly gaze revealed his worry.

“I’m fine,” Tony replied, attempting to assure him, but he did not resist or object to the fretting. He understood Stephen’s urge to make sure he was okay. He would feel the same way if their roles were reversed.

Nevertheless, they didn’t have much time which was why he put his hand on Stephen’s, getting his attention. “There are more of them,” he told him.

“The Children of Thanos,” Stephen agreed. “I heard of them.”

“We need to stop them. We need to stop Thanos.” Something frantic seeped in his voice. This was what had given him nightmares for years. Memories of sleepless nights, haunted by the titan's looming shadow. The realization that everything he had fought for could be ripped from him was enough to send shivers down his spine.

Stephen soothed his panic attack before it could fully form with the simple action of a kiss to his forehead. “I can do that for you. I will get you his head,” he promised, his voice firm.

Tony shook his head, as he lay his hand over Stephen's. There was no way he would let Stephen face the titan alone.

“Let’s do it together.”

[cleoluvrr]

the worst (rafe cameron x heyward!reader)

SYNOPSIS: once you got all that you wanted, nothing was ever the same.

WARNINGS: angst, betrayal of trust

your head felt heavy with pain, frustration, and dread. a slurry of emotions took home within the folds of your minds and there were so many thoughts that you couldn’t pick a single one to focus on. there were so many sounds in a silent room with a single occupant, all echoing against the walls of your skull. your body was on fire but your blood was freezing as it ran through your veins, each cell like a needle of ice as it traveled through your heart.

it felt as if you just might combust.

what you wanted to do the most was scream, but your mouth was glued shut, lips tied up tightly and jaw clenched with a force so strong that your teeth could shatter.

rafe cameron had made a fool out of you. he was a narcissist and a thief that let nothing stand in the way of what he wanted. his greed knew now bounds and it disgusted you. it wasn’t fair that he got everything he wanted and you had to work yourself to the bone just to get a quarter of what he has. 

the freedmen's church sat empty aside from you and the woodland creatures that used it for shelter. it smelt of mildew and old wood, and the eerie feeling of someone watching you was driving you slowly insane. your eyes flew up to the beams holding the roof in place, the hiding spot of the golden cross left just as bare as the pews surrounding you. 

the building was your source of peace and punishment for your failures. 

the memories of that day plague you endlessly. the sound of pope yelling at the pogues out of frustration, them chasing after him as you remained in the same spot long after. the pain you and pope felt was different from whatever the rest of them did. for them it was an inconvenience, but for you and your brother it was a gut-wrenching, soul-crushing feeling of defeat. a torment that was generational. for yourself, there was an additional layer of betrayal.

the man you once cared for deeply had taken advantage of you.

it was all you could think of for months. your foolishness had not only hurt you, but the people that you loved the most. you should’ve never trusted rafe to do right by anyone, to have decency. you should have listened to jj when he told you to stay away from him, but you were stubborn. if you wanted to do something, you were going to do it. maybe that was your fatal flaw.

you came to the church a lot after the cross was stolen. the company of those residing in spirit was more comforting than those of the living, even if they left you feeling unsettled. you felt like you deserved it for disappointing them; your ancestors, your friends, your family.

it felt as if they all stood in the pulpit staring down at you in the pews, head hung in shame and chest heavy with guilt.

the feeling became stronger when the familiar sound of an engine grumbled outside the worn walls of the church, disgruntled spirits less than pleased with the sudden presence of the trespasser.

the sound of his footsteps didn’t move you, nor did the heat of his ocean blue eyes boring into your skin from behind. both of you remain silent for a long time, the air tense and filled with unspoken grievances. 

“why are you here?” rafe’s familiar voice broke the silence between you, the familiarity of the sound bringing no warmth to you as it once did.

“why are you here?” you repeated his question sharply, irritation dripping from your pores. “don’t you think you’ve desecrated this place enough?”

your throat vibrated in timing with each word that rolled off of your tongue. you made no effort to face the man behind you; he came into your territory without invitation, if he wanted to see your face, he could do it himself.

he gave no reply for a long moment, silence falling between you once again. his feet sounded against the ground as he approached with caution, hesitation heard clearly in each step closer to your seated frame in the front pew.

you didn't look up when he took the space in front of you, eyes still focused on the dusty, rotting floorboards. 

“baby–”

“don’t.” your voice sliced through the cool air to cut rafe short. “don’t you ever fucking call me that, rafe cameron.” the sound of the nickname lit a fire in you–an angry, dancing flame of reds and yellows that made your face hot with emotion. “i should have listened to everyone when they told me to stay away from you.”

finally you lift your gaze to meet his own. his eyes, once a beautiful ocean blue, were a dull shade of overcast skies to you. his beauty brought you no butterflies, not anymore. your soft spot for his bright smile and charming face had been eaten away by the moths that killed every monarch in your heart. instead you felt sick, saliva gathering beneath your tongue as the sight of him made the guilt you felt amplify tenfold. 

you swallowed down the liquid, but the sick feeling never went away

“i didn’t mean for everything to turn out like this, y/n…i really didn’t.” his voice was coated in sincerity, but you’d do well to never believe a word that came out of his mouth again. “i just…it–” the blonde ran a hand over his head as he struggled to find his words. “i had to do what i had to do for my family, okay? i would never do something to hurt you–not on purpose.”

“well, you did hurt me, rafe.”

“and i understand that.” he nodded at you. “i hurt you, and you probably think i’m a piece of shit. but–just think of being in my position for a minute; wouldn’t you do the same thing? sometimes we have to make hard decisions, so don’t think that i wanted to do that, y/n…i had to. my family needed the cross.”

if you had the energy, you'd laugh in his face. rafe’s words would be comical had this been a badly written sitcom. you mustered up a hearty scoff instead, the dramatic sound echoing off the walls of the church as you stared up at him is disbelief. 

“you didn’t need the cross, rafe. ward is a greedy bastard and you're doing his bidding because you want his approval.” you didn’t hold back your disgust with the man standing before you, or your disdain for his father. “do you know why it was hidden in here? because denmark tanny knew that the people needed it. people that were stolen from their homes and didnt have a single thing to their names. my people, rafe–that’s why he hid it in a fucking freedman’s church.”

“y/n–”

“you live in that man’s house–you steal his gold, you steal his cross, and you desecrate the grave of his wife. a grave that he was killed for digging.” tears were beginning to build up in your eyes from the rage and feelings of betrayal consumed you. “you use me as a pawn…you come into this church and disturb the souls that lived lifetimes without freedom because of people like you, so fueled by your desire for power that you’ll stop at nothing to get it…or keep it.”

rafe stared at your wordlessly, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he scraped his mind for a response.

standing from your seat, you shoved him out of the way as you made your way to the back of the building. if he stumbled you didn’t notice, eyes trained on the exit on the other side of the room. everything you’d been holding back for months was starting to come to the surface after just a few minutes in his presence.

you had to get away from him or your heart just might explode and paint the wooden panels lining the walls a dark shade of red.

you face him once more as you reach the doorway of the church, a thought reaching your mind through the thick clouds of emotions that forever surrounded it. a breeze caused a chill to run down your spine and your jacket covered arms to fill with goosebumps.

the tall man stood in the same place you left him, stupefied and disgustingly handsome. it was the first time you’d ever seen him rendered speechless. you didn’t need to add insult to injury, but he didn’t deserve the kindness of your silence.

he should live with everything he’s ever done haunting him just as it haunts you.

“to tell you the truth, i wish we never…” shaking your head, you allow him to infer rather than finishing your sentence. the embarrassment from your stupid decisions was too strong for you to say it out loud. it only managed to irritate you further–he should feel shame for his actions, not you. “you really are the worst, rafe cameron. i hope you know that.”

[fairlyabookie]

a moon’s shadow

Author’s note: my first dc comic themed fic featuring nightwing/robin!

- vigilante! reader x nightwing

- original character as self insert

- gender neutral reader

- mentions of familial deaths and pints of angst

Enjoy!

A moonless sky reigns over Gotham City, the moon and stars no more, the streetlights beacons of light in the sea of black. Below, police sirens pierce the silence, filling the streets with roaring engines.

A silhouette emerges from the shadows, heading in the opposite direction. The streets of Gotham were bare, save for a few stranglers seeking shelter for the night. Leaping from building to building, the shadow lingers onto a rooftop, their gaze fixated on an abandoned warehouse, watching unsuspecting personnel whispering amongst themselves. A smirk dances upon moonlit features as the silhouette blends in with the shadows once more - a chorus of cries bursting into the night’s silence.

~ ~ ~

“What happened here?”

Batman’s booming voice commands the attention of Jim Gordon and his subordinates. The Boy Wonder peeks out of his guardian’s cape, peering over his shoulder at the scene. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation - a scene of bounded henchmen cursing under their breaths, destroyed technological devices, and a crowd of GCPD personnel taping off the area. How was it over already?

Jim pinches his nose with a sigh.

“I wish I knew, Batman. Someone said that a kid rounded everyone up and left, even left a phone call to the station using the perp’s phone.”

Both Robin and Batman exchange quizzical looks; there was no way someone beat them to it - the intel from GCPD was right on the money. What went wrong? Both didn’t have the luxury to speculate further; they had to investigate who and what.

Jimmy Gordon regards the minor with a stormy look.

“I presume you had nothing to do with this?”

Robin flashes a smile.

“No, sir! I was with Batman the entire night.”

“I can vouch for him.”

“You being here with Robin already makes a tight alibi.”

The elder sighs, taking a sip of his coffee before maintaining his composure.

“They’ve certainly left something here. Thought you might want to look into it.”

The night returns to police chatter and shuffling as Batman and Robin are left behind with a calling card, a style unbeknownst to anyone in Gotham.

At first sight, it was a blank card; just a simple flashcard used by students to study for classes, or a nervous speaker presenting in front of a crowd. Batman retrieves a flashlight from his utility belt, a beam of light scanning the card for clues. Nothing. Robin tries a light source, the warm light of a street light illuminating the card. Nothing.

Before they could give up on their search, they looked up. The opaque clouds reign the skies, just the perfect timing when they had thought of another light source.

“How about this?”

Batman retrieves yet another tool from his utility belt: a handheld mirror. He shines a light onto the mirror, where a fractal of light beams onto the card. Black ink bleeds into the white expanse of the card:

The smiling moon sends their regards.

Crescent

A winking caricature next to minuscule, neat penmanship scrawled on the card. Huh, cute, I guess. A deep frown curls on Bruce’s lips.

“Batman, I think we have a new troublemaker in town.”

“Great, another nuisance.”

The older man grumbles.

~ ~ ~ ~

A crescent moon bears witness to the spectacle below, smiling oh-so-widely as if the city were just entertainment. Streetlights dot the streets, feeble replicas of the stars above, with their weak light. A silhouette leaps from rooftop to rooftop, observing for any activity from below.

A screech erupts from the darkness.

“Help!”

The silhouette leaps forth, their shadow catching the perpetrators by surprise. Two pitiful robbers and a lady, a simple task. A quick blow or two knocks out the thieves, their bodies thudding against the pavement. The pretty purse is given back to the victim in a flash. A wide-eyed lady gasps her thanks, but her hero had already vanished into the night, save for a calling card by the opening of her purse.

A great night if I say so myself, Crescent chuckles to themselves, returning to the rooftops. They take off to a running start, ready for their next objective.

“Stop right there!”

[Reader] stumbles, nearly missing their timing to launch off the rooftop. They mutter a curse, reconsidering their timing to jump. Getting caught was one thing, but getting caught by an obnoxiously costumed vigilante was another. This vigilante had a taste for the flair. Like, dude, what is that outfit? Aren’t you a lovely target for criminals alike... [Reader] shifted their focus elsewhere - escaping this weirdo was a priority. They leaped from rooftop to rooftop, chasing the stars and moon as fiercely as they could, whilst keeping a distance from them and this masked fellow.

“I don’t want to do this.”

A split second and [Reader]’s ankles lock into place, a painful surge of electricity stunning them into complicity.

Great, this one’s got toys too. [Reader] had a splendid evening of patrol - when they thought they could return home in one piece, without getting caught by the Bat and his lackey, Robin; the timing could’ve been more perfect.

“Congratulations, you caught me. What’s next? Me getting tossed into Gotham prison for crimes against humanity?” Moonlight shone upon a mask bearing cherubic features, a lean build amid growth between a young boy and a man. Right behind him was a man, the cape and cowl a symbol of a sealed fate. Great, now I have Batman on my tail too. How can this night get any worse?

“There are no grounds to arrest you just yet.”

Batman remarks, approaching closer to [Reader].

“We want answers. Talk and we’ll let you go.”

Well, that’s a fun way to talk to someone.

Realization dawns upon the boy’s features.

“Hey, you’re just a kid!”

[Reader] rolls their eyes. They heard that way too many times.

“I would say the same to you, Mr. Robin.”

A prominent frown graces the young man’s lips.

“Okay, Robin. Can you let me go now? I didn’t commit a crime, and got places to be.”

The boy’s features turn stern,

“I can’t do that, Crescent. We have some questions, and we can’t let you go until you’ve answered them.”

“Truthfully.”

Batman emphasizes.

Darn it, they know me now. I should’ve left my calling card elsewhere...

The twerp Robin was one thing, but Batman was another; he could easily knock [Reader]. One false move, and they were done for. They had to abide by their time and hope for the best, or maybe play nice, and perhaps, they can let them go easy.

[Reader] heaves a sigh, steeling themselves from the inevitable. First, the bonds were becoming uncomfortable, their wrists and ankles tied together, not the ideal position for an interrogation, but Crescent would have to bear with it for now.

Robin watches [Reader] struggle, a pang of guilt making its way to his big ol’ heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have deployed those ropes. [Reader] adjusted themselves, sure they might pass for a caterpillar, but they can roll with it.

“Alright, ask away. I’m all yours.”

Batman spares Robin a glance and nods. The young boy takes a breath.

“Who are you, exactly?”

An easy-going smile dances on their lips.

“I’m Crescent, I’m sure you knew that name when you picked up one of my calling cards.”

“So are you a hero or a villain?”

“I’m not Catwoman or Batman.”

So they’re not the Riddler in disguise, got it? Yet, the vague answer helped with deduction over here.

“But you just beat up two men and returned the purse to the lady earlier.”

An incredulous expression befalls on [Reader]’s features.

“Oh, you were watching? Darn it, I should’ve been more discreet..”

“You were discreet, alright. Completely out of sight from the surveillance cameras, too. Not to mention, you even took down a drug syndicate by yourself last week. Care to explain that?”

A heavy silence befalls between the two.

[Reader]’s lips curl to an indiscernible expression.

“My paper trail.”

“Your paper trail.”

Batman presents the card from his cape, the black ink scrawled across the card. The damning piece of evidence warrants a defeated sigh from [Reader], their bounds feeling a little tighter than it was earlier.

“Care to explain?”

“Hey, Gotham needs another vigilante, ya know.”

[Reader] challenges, their gaze fixated on the Boy Wonder and Batman.

“It doesn’t need another one. We could’ve taken care of that. You, on the other hand, could’ve gotten killed by those individuals who are twice your size. Where are your parents?”

Those slew of stinging words did a hit on [Reader]’s ego, yet, they weren’t ready to back down.

“Sure, Batman, whatever you say. You’re not the only one who wants to protect their home from criminals. I managed fine, thank you so much.”

A smirk dances on the corner of their lips. Alas, Batman wasn’t amused.

“Go home.”

He commands, his gaze indistinguishable from the cowl that donned the night. Finish this quickly. He mouths to Robin, his cape melding into Gotham’s city lights. Such a dismissal incensed [Reader], their body thrashing about in their bounds.

“I’m old enough! Now, let me go! I was about to go home anyway!”

Robin equips a batarang to cleave the ropes. [Reader] shakes off their bounds, rubbing off the ache from their ankles and wrists.

“No hard feelings, Crescent?”

He offers a gloved hand. [Reader] casts a judgmental glance over to the Boy Wonder before taking the hand to heave themselves up.

“Oh, I’m deeply offended, Mr. Robin. Your dad, the Batman, is a piece of work.”

“I hope you’re exaggerating.”

A pout forms on the boy’s lips.

“I’m half joking, Robin.”

The pout only deepens.

“I hope you got the answers you wanted. It’s been a nice chat, Robin - and Mr. Batman.”

[Reader] salutes before joining the stars in leads and bounds on the rooftops. Robin’s gaze follows their silhouette, and his heart aflutters with a strange sensation.

“Let’s go home, Dick.”

The sharp hiss of a grappling hook anchors the boy back to reality. He complies, sparing a moment to peer behind him for the mysterious vigilante named Crescent.

~ ~

“Is that all you got, kid? You should’ve called for backup.”

A gangly fellow sneers, landing a solid punch on Crescent’s cheek. The impact stung, nearly enough to taste copper in their mouth.

“Really? I’m getting warmed up.”

Crescent prepares their stance, their vision blurring, their ear ringing from one side. Great, I took more than I can chew. They launch onto their opponent, landing on something taunt - they hoped, an arm or chest. To no avail, the world froze, a grunt escaped their lips, and an unfathomable pain plunged into their stomach, the telltale sound of cracking filling their ears. Good thing I’m on an empty stomach, and ow.

Hot tears corner their eyes, pain burning all over their body. A hand strays to their abdomen, a sign of weakness that the big, burly gentleman in front of them sneered at. [Reader] mutters an expletive before launching into several somersaults, gaining enough space between them and their opponent. The momentum from the somersault left them disoriented, their ankle giving way to a clumsy landing.

“Need a little help?”

A familiar voice chirps, a shadow from above slipping into between the two, the familiar streak of red and green.

“Huh, you have weird timing.”

[Reader] comments, their other hand applying pressure to their wound. They flinch, pain searing through their body like a flame.

“Where’s the thanks?”

[Reader] couldn’t believe this kid.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Robin scoffs,

“Ouch.”

[Reader] kicks another hooligan by the royal jewels, a screech contrasting the man’s bulk ringing out the space.

“Got a tip from the police that you were on the scene for another syndicate. You should team up with us.”

Robin quips, knocking out a few enemies with expert acrobatics - [Reader] wasn’t bothered to look up; their wound taking priority over the boy’s skills. A daring peek at their wound reveals a collective of bruises, thanks to that bozo’s punches and bashing. Great, this will take a while to heal. A poor excuse of a war cry comes from behind; Robin swivels in his step.

“Crescent, on your six!”

It didn’t take long for the [Reader] to disarm the hooligan; a simple sweep of the feet, and a broken dignity came forth. Robin scours the scene: rows of broken bodies and dignities lay across the floor like pitiful dominos, and a crowd of civilians, mostly children, sit in the corner, incredulous, their wide, innocent eyes imbibing every detail of the world around them. The silence of a well-earned victory lay in thick.

As if timing were to get even better, flashes of red and blue flicker about; Jim Gordon with his weathered features and iconic frown approaching the two vigilantes.

“Care to spill the details, my friend?” Robin swivels in his step, his eyes landing on [Reader]’s injury.

“I-“

A looming shadow hovers over [Reader]’s figure, the tell-tale silhouette of Batman looming ominously.

“Let’s get you patched up, first.”

A gloved hand lands on their shoulder.

“Right, right.”

Just before [Reader] could take a step, a bolt of pain shoots up from their ankle, a hiss escapes from their lips, and they stumble, trying to find purchase on their feet.

“Easy, Crescent, easy.”

Robin consoles, offering a shoulder to the youth. [Reader] holds back another grimace.

“Thanks.”

They prop themselves up, taking a breath to recuperate themselves from the pain.

~ ~

“Where do you get your info from?”

“I tinkered with a radio and found the radio frequency for GCPD,”

A heavy silence.

“I scout out after school and at night after dinner. Happy?”

“Satisfactory, but not enough.”

Batman grunts.

“How did you know about the drug syndicates? Those groups are usually tight-lipped about their operations..”

“How would a kid like you know?”

“My uncle works in the police force. He had been stressing out about the case for a month, so I just gave him a helping hand.”

“Does your uncle know that you’re doing this?”

A pointed look.

“No, and I want to keep it that way.”

~ ~

“Bruce.”

“Yes, Dick?”

The young boy jostles with his costume, the words scrambling about in his mind. Robin, the sidekick who fought alongside Batman, who can kick butt and take names in the streets of Gotham, could present himself - the ever-confident, wise-cracking Robin. But, this was Dick Grayson, the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, the living embodiment of the Flying Graysons, and the first Robin. A young boy still figuring himself out in the world, a world where both of his parents were dead, and his father figure was Bruce Wayne, the man behind the cowl.

“About Crescent..”

“Ah yes, Crescent.”

The older man pulls up a profile, listing the so-called “vigilante” on the screen.

“Crescent goes by [Reader]. Her uncle works as a lieutenant in the police force. They also attend Gotham City High School, the same grade as you.”

Dick hesitated, the sudden information overwhelming - yes, invasion of privacy, but this is typical Batman fashion. Anyone in the Gotham City database could be searched with a click away.

I should be knowing this from Crescent themselves, Dick frowns.

“I wanted to talk about them, specifically about having them join us in our patrols.”

Bruce peers over to his protégé.

“I’m glad that you two are getting along well, Dick, but Crescent is a minor; they have to work it out with their familial relations,”

He eyes the profile once more.

“To think that someone your age has been playing hero by themselves. They had the right idea, but it’s too dangerous - they could get hurt, worse, be left in the streets, dead or alive, with no one who can look out for them,”

Silence passes. Bruce swipes to the profile of Crescent to the right while pulling up the profile of their familial relations, along with a dated case written from GCPD.

“Ten years ago, their parents died in a freak car accident - according to the news. In reality, loan sharks compromised their vehicle, where, and on the way to the date, veered off into the coast. Both didn’t survive.”

Why am I learning this now? Dick ponders to himself.

“Their only blood relative is their uncle, a younger brother of their mom, who works in the police force. [Reader] was only five years old when that happened.”

A frown comes across Bruce’s weathered features.

“I’m telling you this now so you know, Dick. It’s not like I don’t trust [Reader] to join us; they’re already involved in the dangers of Gotham, in a world that could swallow them whole if they’re not careful. Believe me, Dick, Crescent may need a mentor to guide them to use their energies for something productive, I’m sure. But.. it’s something that they need to come to terms with their family, whether their uncle likes it or not.”

Dick lets out a sigh he had been holding for a while. He clung to the idea of having Crescent join the ranks - heck, he thought it would be neat to have someone new in the Bat Family. Yet, maybe it was the start of a puppy-like crush, or something even more, that had him hoping for Crescent, hope if he could spend more time with [Reader].

~ ~

[Reader] returns home to a quiet apartment. It’s too quiet.

“Uncle?”

“Welcome home, [Reader]. We need to talk.”

A weary lieutenant gestures to an empty seat. [Reader] complies. Years of work bore down on the man in broad shoulders, a maintained physique fit for intimidation and physical confrontations, yet his face, once youthful years past, was weary from labor. He takes a breath before starting,

“I’m aware of your nightly ventures, [Reader], and as your legal guardian, I will have to ask you to stop playing vigilante and be a normal kid.”

[Reader]’s heart weighed heavily; so much for helping him. The older man heaves another sigh.

“Kid, Crescent was a big help around Gotham, but leave it to the adults.”

“You mean leave it to Batman and his kid sidekick, Robin?”

They say bitterly, toxin seeping into their words. A frown weathers the man’s features.

“[Reader]...”

“Uncle, please. I want to help you safeguard the streets of Gotham. I just can’t stand there and do nothing!”

“[Reader],”

Calloused hands wrap around small ones, a pleading look upon the older man’s features.

“I can’t afford to lose you too. I lost my oldest, my only sister and my brother to some second-rate criminal who saw them as nothing but banks for their buck. Please, for our sake, take the mask off and be a normal kid.”

[Reader] wasn’t ready to let go; their hands trembled, their vision blurring with wet, hot tears.

Their uncle presses on, patting their relative gently on the head.

“You can help the community from within; volunteer at a shelter, tutor some kids, or even donate items that you no longer use. It doesn’t have to be this way, [Reader]. Your heroism is admirable, and I’m very proud of what you’ve done as a vigilante.”

He pauses, letting silence take over, letting [Reader] respond in time. They peer over to their relative, a resolution coming into mind.

~ ~ ~

[Reader] lounges against a billboard, their gaze resting upon a skyline of Gotham, the familiar ambiance of sirens screeching out into the night. The autumn chill distilled their breath into palpable puffs of air, their fingers pale against the unforgiving cold. A steaming cup of ramen awaits beside them, titillating flavor drifting along.

Yet, the youth lounged, gazing upon Gotham with hazy eyes.

“Knock knock.”

[Reader] startles from their stupor, scouring for the interloper who just had to interrupt their alone time. A masked fellow smiles at Crescent, the night cloaking the bright hues of red and green to muted shades of crimson and grass green.

“What are you doing here, Boy Wonder?”

[Reader] averts their gaze elsewhere, not wanting to see that blasted ‘R’ symbol again.

“Oh, I go up here too. Just wanted to be polite and say hi.”

Nothing harmless about that. [Reader] sighs, returning their gaze to the skyline.

“Where is your papa, then? I know he doesn’t let you venture to the streets by yourself.”

“I’m done with the patrol for the night, Crescent. I just go here when I’m done, just for a breather.”

Crescent takes a bite from their ramen.

“Gotham sure is pretty at night, huh, Robin?”

“Yeah.”

Yet, Robin’s gaze was elsewhere, not on Gotham’s city lights, but on someone else. [Reader] regards the boy with a raise of their cup. A grin appears on the boy’s lips. He takes off his mask, heaving a sigh - the Boy Wonder, now a young boy in a bright costume, lays upon the rooftop, eyes the color of pure sky aligning with [Reader]’s.

“Hey, do you mind if I tell you something stupid?”

“I don’t mind stupid.”

“Having you in Gotham is fun; well, seeing you around and working together and all.”

[Reader] scoffs, drinking remnants of the broth left in the soup.

“You sound like you’re going to miss me, Robin. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But, your uncle-”

“Listen, Boy Wonder, I know. Without or with Batman, my uncle was bound to figure out that I was sneaking out late at night, kicking butt and saving Gotham at the same time, but I made my choice too, Robin.”

The youth could feel their temper spiking with this topic.

“But, it doesn’t have to be that way, Crescent. You can join us, train with us, and be part of a team.”

A bittersweet smile crossed [Reader]’s lips; there was something about the boy’s pleas, his sincerity conveyed in those pretty eyes of his. Crescent the vigilante would be so elated to be working with the Dynamic Duo; crime-fighting together in the dead of night, grappling along the city lights of Gotham. But, [Reader] the civilian was a child - like this Robin before them. On another day, both children would’ve been great friends - the idea was entertaining, but not now. They ruffle his black locks before tossing an empty ramen cup into the trash.

“That’s the kicker, Boy Wonder. I’m not trained enough to tag along with you.”

“But we can train together!”

“Not happening,”

The last remark left a frown on the boy’s lips. A dry chuckle bubbles from [Reader], a cloud of cold air puffing from their lips.

“It’s fine, Robin. I almost snapped at my uncle for letting him decide for me. But then again, I’m just a kid - I don’t know any better.”

The smile quickly fades, [Reader] embracing the chilling bite of late winter after a warm soup.

“I hate that he is right; I could wind up lost in Gotham, or worse, dead out there, and it’s not a pretty image to think considering that my own uncle is working with the most interesting job in the police force.”

They peer over to Robin, his cherubic features darkening to contemplation.

“It was fun while it lasted, Robin. Working with you, that is.”

Robin reaches out, grabbing hold of [Reader]’s wrist.

“Crescent..”

“Nothing against you, Robin. Keep up with the good work. It was nice knowing you.”

An iron grip on the wrist disrupts [Reader]’s train of thought.

“Will we see each other again?”

[Reader] wasn’t fond of those hopeful eyes, eyes that branded into their very soul as if he were searching for an answer, innocence, and eagerness mixing into a pure concoction of childish delight.

“I… don’t know..”

[Reader] retracts their hand, their resolve faltering with each passing second. They dare not to look into the boy’s eyes, a second longer, they could fathom the regret boiling from within.

“Crescent is no more, Robin.”

[Reader]’s mouth tasted foreign as soon as those words were uttered; their heart thundering against their rib cage, they could feel their world topple. The stern expressions of her uncle and Batman in the kitchen area, the tempest of sentiments crashing on the mere idea of abandoning Crescent to return to a normal livelihood - Gotham was dangerous, yes, but being a vigilante at such a tender age wasn’t sustainable. Crescent had to go.

“I have to go. I can’t stay here.”

A voice wavers under the weight of emotions. A single tear falls on the youth’s cheek; they cannot look back to the Boy Wonder, an embodiment of what could’ve been for Crescent. As pity reigned in their heart, they turned a heel and placed a light kiss onto the boy’s cheek. His eyes widened, a blush dusting his cheeks.

“Consider my thanks from the save. Goodbye, Robin.”

The moon, drenched in the light and dark, watches the city from above, encasing those in darkness in a halo of pale light.

~ Years Later ~

Bludhaven pulsed with cars lighting up the night sky, the skyline a plethora of colors from the city. The night was young, and so were the late-night parties, a cacophony of music and clamor intertwining into the night. Eloquently dressed individuals frolic the venue, exchanging pleasantries and drinks.

Until, a thundering crash reaps chaos, bringing forth distressed screams and police sirens into the night. A group of lackeys and their leader taunt the innocent, grabbing those nearby at gunpoint. [Reader] quickly weaves between the crowd, careful not to step on anyone’s feet and tip off anyone on their trail.

“Whoa there, I’d be careful going out and about in the middle of a crime scene.”

Gentle, strong arms anchor [Reader] into place, a handsome visage complimented by eyes of cloudless skies on a summer’s day. Okay, not the first time I've been stopped by a handsome stranger.

“Says the one entering the crime scene. Do you have better ideas on how to clean up this mess?”

[Reader] perks an eyebrow. The stranger’s handsome features contort with confusion, only to light up with realization.

“Crescent?”

Something clicked in [Reader]; a hazy memory of boyish charm was a man dripping in beauty, piercing blue eyes, a chiseled jawline, and a broad physique. Was this Robin, [Reader] ponders. It had to be.

“Who do you think?”

The man chuckles, his grip tightening for a moment.

“Thought you retired from vigilante life! What brings you to Bludhaven?”

Another wave of screams cut in their conversation. [Reader] takes off their heels, following the stranger.

“How about we deal with this now and talk later?”

“Seconded.”

The two split, one of them dealing with the lackeys head-on with nothing but a pair of heels and their hands while the other beats up the infiltrator, acrobatics, and all for quick effect. One, a powerful kick to the face: two, a swift uppercut square in the jaw; three, a prompt punch to the gut that incapacitated the enemy in seconds.

~ ~

“Not too shabby, Nightwing.”

A knowing smirk dances on [Reader]’s lips. The vigilante regards his acquaintance with a bow.

“I know, I do my job well. Thank you very much.”

[Reader] rolls their eyes. When did he up the theatrics? Even if the man in front of them was the Robin they once knew, they couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling that something changed. Was it the costume? The oozing confidence this man carried on his shoulders? The dimpled smile that could bring anyone swooning left and right? Huh, something probably changed, alright.

The scene was definitely familiar; both fighting against crime in the best way they could, but this time, he was Nightwing, and [Reader] was someone else entirely.

“Now that we have that taken care of, it seems we have a lot of catching up to do..”

[Reader] saw that coming.

~ ~

Away from the din, the corners of Bludhaven were quiet, and dark compared to the ever-bright haven from the heart of the city. A full moon rests high upon the sky, pale light illuminating the darkness.

“So, Bludhaven? I’m sure you didn’t move here just so you can be with me.”

A teasing remark is quickly countered with a quip from [Reader],

“In your wildest dreams, Nightwing. I moved here because of college, and Gotham was getting a little too much for me. It’s a nice city here.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more..”

Nightwing’s gaze flickers over to [Reader]’s profile; the years passed between the two - [Reader] had blossomed into a fine young adult, their attire flattering their body shape in ways that were driving the young man crazy; for [Reader], the young, awkward teenager who they knew as Robin had became something from a romance novel: broad shoulders, a charismatic smile, gorgeous locks that blended into the night. If [Reader] were caught by their friends with this man, the youth would be teased all day.

Alas, the man before them was a former friend; of course, catching up was warranted.

“So, Crescent is no more, right?”

“I go by Nightfall now, Sir Nightwing.”

“Nightfall? Are you sure? Because we’re matching codenames here.”

[Reader]’s cheeks burned hot. Punching Nightwing to the next dimension or burying themselves six feet under were appealing options.

“That was not intentional, Jerkwing.”

A rich laugh, one that brought [Reader]’s heart asunder, one of genuine elation, one that they hadn’t heard of since they met the Boy Wonder.

“Alright then,”

[Reader] felt their heart race, an odd sensation they welcomed as Nightwing inched closer to them. The domino mask was off; a dimpled smile gracing his lips.

“Hey, Nightfall.”

[Reader] hated how easily the name rolled off his tongue, the way it sounded so nicely to him. Nightwing was messing with them.

“Hey, Sir Nightwing.”

Amusement creased the corner of his eyes, the pure blue eyes glittering. A finger angles [Reader]’s chin, aligning their gaze to his. They have never forgotten those precious eyes of his, alluring and beautiful like fresh pearls.

“Please call me Dick.”

His voice drops to a whisper. The distance closes, the warmth from each other’s bodies palpable. Dick’s other hand moves to [Reader]’s, gingerly wrapping his palm around theirs. His presence spoke of patience, waiting for them to answer his advances.

“We never really introduced ourselves, did we, Dick?”

Dick’s dimples deepen,

“We didn’t; we would see each other and refer to each other by codenames.”

“That was probably for the best, huh.”

The two chuckle; poor [Reader]’s heart jittering against their ribcage. What were they doing holding hands with someone they hadn’t spoken to in years, let alone feel like a scene from a sickeningly sweet high school romance?

“Alright, I’ll play along, Sir Dick. I’m [Reader], pleased to meet you.”

Dick’s expression softens, a smile belonging to the gods melting [Reader]’s heart.

“[Reader], it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The young man placates a kiss on the back of [Reader]’s hand, a flirtatious wink that sealed their fate right then and there.