#like that's a whole police officer doing that to civilians

[hella1975]

hopper's way of getting information is so funny bc he'll go 'step 1: lie' and if that doesn't work he immediately resolves to torture

#mans been doing this for 4 seasons now and it works every time #he's not even embarrassed about it #'yeah i beat that guy up. so what. he was an asshole. and i was right' #like that's a whole police officer doing that to civilians #stranger things said 'this one cop is a good guy but NO cops are good. hope that makes sense' and that's so hot of them #im rewatching season 1 #why the fuck did they call him steve 'the hair' harrington his hair looked APPALLING in season 1 #i know that boy was pulling zero bitches with that style you're lying to me #stranger things #jim hopper

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP fic idea: Love Among Fans

Damian Wayne would be the first to admit he had difficulty connecting to others his age. The only thing he knew well was the unforgiving bloodlust of battle and while that helped him fight as Robin it didn't mean it made a well liked Robin.

Civilians flinched away from him, and Police officers stood weary around him. He cares not for the crooks' opinion of him, but he knew it is low.

Worse, other teenage heroes didn't like him around. The Teen Titans had rejected his membership after the three months trial run. Young Justice made excuses after the first two. Even the Outlaws said he was too much to be around, and Todd ran that one.

Of course, his brothers did their best to let him down gently but they could not force the rest of their teams to accept him.

That's why Jon meant so much to him. His best friend had been displeased initially with Damian's behavior, but he had been willing to still get to know him.

Jon had the patience of a Saint. He discovered what worked for Damian and how to help him breach the gaps between them. Damian knew little of what he had missed as a kid, but Jon never made him feel less for it. He carefully explained, opening his world to wondrous new things and Damian tried them all because Jon asked him to.

There was very little he wouldn't do for Jon.

"Have you ever read fanfiction?'" Jon asked one afternoon in the Kryptonian's room.

"No." He grunts, knowing the other wouldn't take offense to the short reply.

Jon smiles, pushing the tablet he had been scrolling on. "You should! This is my current favorite. It's about the show Space Ninjas, you like."

Damian appreciated the show's art and animation, so he took the tablet and clicked on the first chapter. Jon pulled out his phone, and got comfortable on his bed as Damian read.

And read and read and read.

Three days later, he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, unsure how to deal with real life until the author posted another chapter. He been texting Jon about the story and hosting over amazing character interpretation, theories on what the upcoming twist would be and just about how amazing this piece of art is.

Jon sent back multiple reaction gifs and links to the author's blog, where fans had posted art of the fic. Damian scrolled through them, amazed by how well every piece was, and his eyes caught the drawing Tabet Drake given him a year ago that he had ignored for his paints.

After a moment of thinking, he picked it up, hooked up his computer, and tried to draw the one scene that made the whole fic his newest obsession.

It took three days before he was satisfied with the results. He showed Jon who gushed over it for hours. He convinced him to open a blog to post it and when Damian couldn't bring himself to, Jon tagged the writer in it.

The writer sent him a heartfelt message equally moved by his drawings as Damian was by his writing.

It was the start of his second friendship.

Over time Damian drew more and more. His fanart blog grew in followers as his skills sharpened with practice. He made more pieces of other fanfiction he read, but he always fell back to making unique fan art for GlaxeyAstronaut.

He and GlaxeyAstronaut chatted for years. He didn't know his real name- he could find it easily enough with the Batcomputer but felt it would ruin things if he did- but he knew about him. His online friend was the same age as, Damian, who identified as male, had an older sister and two scientist parents, lived Minnesota and dreamed of being a astronaut.

Damian likewise told him things about himself, mindful never of revealing anything that could pinpoint him a Wayne. And that's how their relationship was for two years.

The writer and his artist.

At one point, Jon had pointed out that Damian messaged GlaxeyAstronaut daily and talked about him just as much. He pointed out how Damian's heart beat raised whenever he saw that silly icon on his notification. He pointed out how flustered he became when he read GlaxeyAstronaut's messages.

But Damian ignored him beacuse surely he was only excited to have two whole friends now.

When they turned fourteen, things changed. GlaxeyAstronaut stopped replying to his message for a week, nearly causing Damian to go find him as Robin until his friend returned to the chat room with a short "I had an accident in my parent's lab. Electric accident. It was bad. It is bad. I may not be able to get on here as much"

His friend became somewhat distant after that, replying three or four days after. Damian figured it was because he was recovering from his accident. Still he tried to be there for him and one day, almost a year after GlaxeyAstronaut's accident he received the message.

"I can't be an Astronaut. My heart will always be too slow to apply"

Damian stared at the words feeling ice cold. Being an Astronaut had always been his friend's dream since he was five, and he could point at the glowing dots to his parents on a camping trip. The fact a medical condition acquired from a lab accident ruined it just left Damain feeling cheated.

He had no idea what GlaxeyAstronaut must feel but he guess far worst.

He had sent a message asking GlaxeyAstronaut if he wanted to call him and talk about it without much thought . They had never done a voice call before, never wanting to breach that uncharted area of online and real life friendship.

But GlaxeyAstronaut agreed, and hesitantly, Damian sent him a link to a chat room with a call option.

The call connected, and the two spoke about the writer's condition how the electricity had run amok in his body, slowing his heart and killing him for a few seconds until his friends were able to bring him back using CPR.

When that became too heavy, they switched to their favorite shows, then brainstormed ideas for collaboration and everything else under the sun.

Damian felt like no time had passed when Father came to warn him to get ready to head out soon, and GlaxeyAstronaut told him he should get started on his homework anyway.

"My name is Danny, by the way," the voice from his speaker said softly. "You don't have to tell me your name. I just....thank you for listening. My best friends and sister hear me but they don't listen to what I saw about.....the accident. It means a lot to me."

"You are most welcome" He pauses for a few seconds before he tacks on "My name is Damian. It is a honor to meet you Danny"

He heard the other boy laugh before the call disconnected any Damian was left staring at his ceiling like he did three years ago.

Back then, Damian's life had changed upon discovering fanfiction and fandoms. Today his life changed upon the startling discovery that Jon had been trying to tell him since he was twelve.

He had a crush on Danny.

How would ge deal with this?

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Love Among Fans #part 1 #dead serious #Damian and Danny were one friends for two years before Phantom #Jon and Damian friendship

[sitkainsnow]

Desperately need a fic from a police officer’s pov and they watch SuperBat interactions bc like all the cops either hate or love Bats, but are still kinda terrified of him, but ofc Supes is all sunshine and smiles and “He’s my best friend y’all!” And they KNOW bats probably totally has kryptonite and an attitude worse than the devil.

So they end up in a situation where they’re working together and Batman in taking with the police and Superman’s standing behind him waving and smiling at everyone while Batman is giving single-word or just huffs for answers. And then Superman freezes and cocks his head and to everyone’s surprise grabs Batman by the shoulder and whispers something in his ear and then what’s more surprising is Batman doesn’t even mind as he wraps his own arm around Supes and then they’re gone in a blur of blue and Black. All the cops are just left standing there like 🧍‍♂️shocked bc Bats didn’t mind Supes touching him.

Or another instance where it’s after this big battle in Gotham and it’s with whatever villain but Superman is there too and the villain had kryptonite. Anyways so after the battle Bats is talking to the police and handing over the villain and Superman comes over after talking to the civilians, picks Bats up by the scruff mid sentence politely nods to the officers he was talking too, and moves him a couple feet away and just starts yelling at Bats abt how stupid it is for him to run around jumping in the way of heavy blows EVEN if they have kryptonite and Bats just scoffs and turns his head away and all the police on the area watch as Superman and Batman argue about how stupid it is to risk your life to save the other (they both did it) completely oblivious to their audience and the police whose POV it’s in just thinks “god they sound like a married couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy if the two of the worlds greatest hero’s were actually a couple lmao. But that’s crazy they’re just really good friends”

Gordon watched all this trying not to blow his fuse bc yes, Batman does need to be yelled at, and yes, he does need to prioritize his safety more, but NO, you don’t need to be having your lovers quarrel in front of the whole damn GCPD.

Or in another instance Batman racks up a bunch of charges on him for whatever reason and the GCPD by luck manages to arrest him and so here comes Superman trying to bail his partner(in more ways than one) out of prison and the police are like “we’re really sorry Mr. Superman sir but we can’t legally do that” and Supes goes “what the hell did he even do” and so the officer goes “Property Damage, unlawful violence, arson, punched a cop in the face and broke his nose, caught carrying weed which is illegal in the state of New Jersey, multiple -and I mean multiple- unpaid speeding tickets. Oh, and the DMV wanted us to talk to him about his unregistered Batmobile and Batbike.”and Supes is about to cry as he quietly asks “Okay, so how much is bail” And the officer looks away and mumbled “sixteen grand” and Supes gasps and cries out “I don’t get paid enough for sixteen grand!!”

However thirty minutes later Supes is back at the GCPD station shakily counting out bills bc he can’t use a check or card (obvi) sweating heavily and looking extremely pained. The cops don’t even ask where he got all those bills so quickly and just watch him and another 30minutes later Bats is out and Supes is shaking him by his shoulder shouting “so who’s gonna lag me back!! Who’s gonna reimburse me for for 16k?? Whose gonna apologize for the heart palpitations you gave me?? Whose gonna apologize for all the gray hairs this is going to give me?? You’re giving me gray hairs all the time B!! I can’t do this!!” And Batman just sighs and pats Superman on the back as they walk out of the station and Superman is mumbling about bank credit and loans and how bad he looks with wrinkle lines and gray hair sounding like he’s about to cry.

Meanwhile the police try not to loose their minds throughout this whole interaction and Gordon’s just staring at the door blankly smoking a cigar and the police whose POV it’s in looks at the cigar a little bit closer and goes “That smells like weed” and Gordon looks at her and just says “I feel for Superman a bit more than I want to”

#superbat #batman #bruce wayne #superman #clark kent #superman x batman #jim gordon

[suzukiblu]

what do you have for Clark kent?

Clark is the last son of Krypton.

Clark is the last of Krypton.

At least, that's what he thought thirty seconds ago.

"Uh," the kid standing in the middle of the broken-up Metropolis street in front of him says awkwardly, a gloved hand half-covering the bright and bold and undeniable emblem on his chest. There's a lot of surrounding property damage, a lot of staring civilians hovering on the sidewalk, and some very upset police officers cuffing up some very unconscious metahuman gang members. Clark can't even begin to bring himself to care about any of it. "Hey . . . ?"

"Hello," Diana says, raising a curious eyebrow at both the kid and the ridiculous mess that's somehow been made of the street. From the look of it maybe one of those gang members had some kind of tectonic-based abilities or something similar, but Clark continues not to care. "It seems we've encountered an admirer of yours, Kal."

"You're wearing that crest without permission," Bruce says flatly, looking less amused than Clark has seen him since the last time someone died on the League's watch.

Clark, meanwhile, can't say anything at all.

"Hey, Superman gave me permission, okay?!" the kid protests, bristling defensively. Clutching the emblem . . . protectively. Like he's afraid to have it taken away. "Just not, uh . . . this one."

"This one." Bruce frowns. The kid flattens his hand against his chest and just . . . shrugs, looking away. Clark can't look away from him at all. He looks like . . . he looks . . .

"Yeah," the kid says, gesturing a little directionlessly with his free hand. "I'm kinda not, like . . . local? There was like this whole thing, like with Hypertime and–it's complicated, okay? Just, like, it's an alternate reality issue. I'm sort of, uh . . . lost. Or–stranded, more like. I guess more like . . . stranded."

The kid swallows. Drops his hand away from the emblem and folds his arms over it instead.

Keeps standing there, looking like . . .

"Are you, now," Bruce says neutrally, and he's definitely going somewhere with that, but–

"You're Kryptonian," Clark blurts, because he can't hold the words back a moment longer. Diana and Bruce both go very still beside him. The kid just looks surprised.

"Uh, not really?" he says. "I mean, okay, sort of. I'm a binary clone of . . . you know, like a hybrid? Um, they based me off, well . . . our Superman. And then, like, stitched me up with human DNA to hold me together 'cuz the Kryptonian genome is a freaking nightmare and they couldn't really figure it out all that well, so otherwise I would've degraded and–uh. Sorry."

Clark feels something he doesn't think he's ever felt in his life, looking at this kid. Feels like he's been dragging himself through the uncanny valley and finally seen the other side of the thing; like he's finally crossed through the fog and darkness and come out into the clear light of day and seen what people are actually supposed to look like. Everything about him is just . . . right. The pitch of his voice, the slope of his shoulders, the way the sunlight reflects off his skin, the pattern of spokes in his irises, the color of his eyes, the weight of him in the world . . .

Clark wants to snatch this kid up and wrap him in his cape and never let anything else touch him. Never let him be hurt or upset or–or alone. Never. Not for anything.

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met . . . when they first . . .

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met their child. A sense of awe and wonder and . . . and . . .

He feels like he felt the first time he left the atmosphere and saw all of Earth all at once. Everything on it, everyone on it. The whole thing all together, all the same. Perfect.

Complete.

He's never loved anything this immediately, Clark realizes distantly. Not even that first full glimpse of Earth.

He can't imagine how he ever, ever could have.

"What's your name?" he asks, unable to shake the intensity of emotion held painfully tight in his chest. Not even wanting to shake it.

The kid looks–worried, almost. Puts his hands behind his back. Clark can see the full image of the El crest emblazoned in pride of place across his chest for the first time, and it makes him feel weak.

"Superboy," the kid says. "Um . . . Kon-El."

Clark's heart could burst, hearing that.

Or break.

"Kon-El," he echoes, forcing himself not to step in closer; not to crowd the kid. "I had a . . . on Krypton, before it was destroyed, there was . . ."

"A cousin. From the, uh, second house of El," the kid–Kon-El–agrees, shifting just barely anxiously. "My Superman said I . . . reminded him of him, like from what he saw in the recordings and all? So, uh . . ."

"I named you after him?" Clark asks wonderingly. He would've given the kid a human name over a Kryptonian one, himself, but then again, a public street in an alternate dimension isn't really the place for him to be introducing himself as "Jon Kent" or anything similar. Kon nods stiffly, drawing himself up a bit.

"Yeah," he says. "He said, uh–um. He said Kon-El was strong-willed. And . . . uh . . ."

He trails off, looking nervous, and then visibly steels himself and looks defensive again instead.

"He said I was family," he says, squaring his shoulders and lifting his jaw, like he's actually expecting someone to argue with him or something. "So he gave me that name."

Clark doesn't know who the hell made this kid so much as hesitate over saying that to any version of him that isn't an active supervillain, but he thinks he'd like to throw them into the Phantom Zone for a century or two. Just . . . that's all.

Or maybe three.

#clark kent #kon el #superman #superboy #superfamily #plotbunny-bundle #rinfic #long post #wip: the last son of krypton meets hypertime kon

[newobsessionweekly]

Diamonds and dreams

Tim Bradford x Buckley!reader

Crossover The Rookie x 911

Fandoms: The Rookie, 911

Summary: Tim teams up with your brother, Buck, to plan the proposal. You get hurt in the process, unintentionally, but it's for a good cause.

A/N: Another crossover, and I don't think I'll stop here. I love so much both Tim and Buck. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this and I'm open for requests! I'm sorry if I made some mistakes while writing, english is not my first language, but I'm trying to improve. Thank you so much for your support so far. Take care of yourselves, bubs! I appreciate everything single one of you! Lots of love! ❤️

Warnings: Swearing ? Maybe. Bunch of fluff and banter anyways. Not proofread yet

Fluff | A bit of angst

Requested: No

Words: 4.9k

Requests are open for Tim and Buck.

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

For the past three years, your life took unexpected twists, one after one. You didn't know back then how impactful a police officer doing his job would be to your life. You never expected to fall for the all-so-serious officer, whose indignation spoke volumes in the presence of firefighters.

Tim had only one opinion about the other branch of first responders — reckless, not so sharp, and definitely idiots, but they mean well. That was before meeting you.

After a massive earthquake hit LA, the chaos that followed can't be described. People running around looking for the close ones, screaming, and a lot of pain. LAPD was sent on the streets to maintain order while LAFD rushed to rescue everyone in need. They were hand in hand and, for the first time in his life, Tim was following the orders of a firefighter— you.

He complained at first, but when he understood you were more than a reckless woman, he obeyed. Back then, Tim saw in you a seriousness that made him eat his words. The way you pushed yourself aside for the safety of the civilians, the way you disobeyed the book in a risky situation, questioning everything you knew for the people. You allowed him to help, and he was there by your side the whole time, mesmerised by the way you gave everything you had, pushed away any fear and doubts and crawled into wrecked precincts to save every single one of them.

There was a huge difference between the two branches of first responders. LAPD was trained to save the law, maintain order, protect the vulnerable and punish the guilty, while LAFD was trained to protect and save regarding the guilty and they've seen unimaginable things, making them aware the life is short and you need to cherish it every second.

And when you showed him that ugly side of your job, Tim never saw you the same again. Drawn by your determination and dedication to save every soul and by your love and beauty you carried around, he fell for you, hard.

But he never accepted the real dangers of your job. Actually, he never accepted that your dedication was so profound, that you'd give your life to save another without second thoughts. He couldn't bare the thought of losing you some day due to your 'dedication'.

You’re both standing in the middle of the living room, the air thick with tension that’s been building for weeks. Tonight’s argument was inevitable, ignited by the underlying fear and frustration that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

Tim’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you, his concern turning into frustration. He knows that firefighting is dangerous, but seeing you take unnecessary risks feels like a constant weight on his shoulders.

“Damn it, Y/N!” he exclaims, his voice loud and filled with anger. “You can’t keep ignoring orders and putting yourself in danger! You’re a firefighter, not a one-woman hero team!”

You clench your fists, feeling defensive, his words sounding like an accusation. “I know what I’m doing, Tim. Sometimes you have to take risks to save lives.”

“Fire isn’t something predictable,” Tim interjects, his voice firm. “When you're dealing with an armed suspect, you can see the next move in his eyes. But with fire? It's nothing like that and, when it happens, it's probably too late."

His words cut deep, and tears fill your eyes as you try to make him understand. You feel misunderstood, judged, and it hurts.

“Predictable or not, I trust my instincts,” you shoot back, your voice shaking. “Sometimes you have to go with your gut, Tim, not just follow orders blindly.”

"But at what cost?” Tim retorts, his face flushed with frustration. “How many times do we have to argue about this before you realize that you’re not invincible?”

Your eyes fill with tears, the weight of his words hitting you hard. “I’m not saying I’m invincible,” you reply, tears streaming down your face. “I just believe in doing whatever it takes to save lives, even if it means bending the rules sometimes.”

“Bending the rules?” Tim’s voice cracks, hurt evident in his expression. “Y/N, this isn’t a game. Lives are at stake, including yours!”

You’re openly crying now, the tears blurring your vision as you try to make him understand. “I need you to trust me, Tim. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“I need to be able to trust that you’ll come home safely,” Tim says, his voice softer now, filled with genuine concern. “I can’t keep worrying every time you’re on shift, wondering if you’re going to make it home in one piece.”

"But this is who I am, Tim. I can’t change that.”

Tim’s thoughts swirl with a mix of love, fear, and frustration as he watches you, torn between wanting to protect you and knowing he can’t control your choices. “I need some time to think,” he finally says, his voice filled with resignation.

Without another word, you grab your bag and head for the door, leaving Tim standing alone in the living room, his face a mask of regret and worry. As you make your way to Lucy’s apartment, the weight of the argument pressing down on you, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed between you and Tim, something that might be impossible to repair.

You stand before Lucy’s door, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks streaked with tears. With a shaky breath, you knock softly as your heart is pounding in your chest. The door swings open to reveal Lucy’s shocked face, her eyes widening at your disheveled appearance.

“Y/N? What the hell happened?” Lucy’s voice is filled with concern as she wraps you in a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in your body.

Tamara rushes in, eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?”

As Lucy's comforting embrace envelops you, a mixture of relief and despair washes over you. You lean into her warmth, grateful for the solace she provides amidst the chaos of your emotions. Tamara's worried expression only adds to the weight of the situation, highlighting the gravity of the rift between you and Tim.

"I’m so sorry,” you stammer, tears threatening anew. “I didn’t know where else to go. I can't go to Buck like this and –"”

Lucy steps back, creating space for you to enter, "You're always welcome here, Y/N. You know that."

Lucy leads you to the couch and wraps her arm around your shoulders as you found a small measure of comfort in her presence. The unspoken understanding between you eases some of the ache in your heart, reminding you that you're not alone in this struggle.

Tamara places a comforting hand on your knee, her eyes filled with empathy as Lucy spoke, “Come on, tell us what happened."

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady your voice as you recount the intense argument with Tim. “We had a fight, a really bad one. He said he needed some time to think.”

Your love for Tim is boundless, a deep-rooted connection that fills your heart with warmth and joy. Every moment spent with him is a treasure, each shared smile and whispered promise a testament to the depth of your affection. And being so far from him, it was a nightmare. Leaving so abruptly, both of your anger and frustration bottled inside, this tore you apart.

Tamara’s eyes narrow, her tone incredulous. “Tim said that? What could possibly have happened?”

“He thinks I’m reckless, that I put myself and my team in danger,” you explain, the sting of his words still fresh in your mind.

The pain of your fight weighs heavily on your soul, a sharp ache that refuses to fade. His words cut deep, leaving you reeling with a sense of loss and betrayal. The thought of losing him, of facing a future without his love, is almost unbearable.

Lucy shakes her head, her eyes filled with empathy. “Tim’s always been by-the-book. He values rules and order. But being a firefighter isn’t always black and white.”

You nod, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “Exactly. But he just won't listen.”

Lucy sighs, her eyes softening with understanding. “Tim loves you. He’s just scared. Scared of losing you.” She can see the pain in your eyes, the uncertainty about the future of your relationship.

“I know,” you sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. “But it’s not just about him being scared. It’s about understanding who I am and what I do.”

Tamara nods, her expression thoughtful. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Y/N. Sometimes two people can love each other deeply but still be incompatible in some ways.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” you say, feeling the weight of her words. “But I also don’t want to lose myself.” You grapple with the conflicting emotions, torn between love and self-respect.

Lucy chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood. She stands up, heading to the kitchen to prepare some tea. “You won't lose him. He’s stubborn as hell, but he loves you. You know that."

Tamara smirks, leaning back on the couch. “Well, men are from Mars, right? We’ll never fully understand them.”

Lucy laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender. “True that. But hey, if anyone can knock some sense into Tim, it’s you, Y/N.”

Tamara smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leans back on the couch. “You know, Y/N, I like you more and more. Just so you know, everything you’ve said tonight will be used against Tim tomorrow.” She winks playfully, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Lucy’s going to make his shift a living hell.”

Lucy chuckles, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Oh, you bet I will. He won’t know what hit him.” She laughs, the tension in the room further dissipating with their playful banter.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, grateful for the light-hearted moment amidst the emotional chaos. “Just promise me you’ll go easy on him. He’s still my guy, after all.”

Yet, even in the midst of your despair, your love for him remains steadfast. It is a beacon of hope in the darkness, a guiding light that keeps you tethered to him, even when the distance between you feels insurmountable.

Tamara raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. “No promises,” Lucy says with a playful shrug.

You shake your head, chuckling at their antics. “Alright, alright. Just remember, I’ll have to deal with him after you two are done.”

After a moment of silence, Tamara's face brightens, an idea forming. “You know what we need? A girls’ night. We could all use a little distraction, right?”

Lucy grins, nodding in agreement. “Absolutely. Some wine, some movies, and some girl talk. It’s just what the doctor ordered.”

You smile weakly, grateful for their support. “That sounds nice.”

Meanwhile, across town, Tim and Buck find themselves in the comfort of Tim's living room. With beers in hand and the soft glow of the TV providing background noise, both men seem to have left the weight of the day behind them, engrossed in their own world of laughter and banter.

But Tim's thoughts are consumed by the image of you, tears staining your cheeks as you walked out the door. Each memory of your tearful departure cuts him deeply, a sharp pang of guilt and sorrow gnawing at his heart.

Buck takes a swig of his beer, glancing over at him with a curious expression. “So, how did the fight go?”

Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I think I overstepped a little. She was crying and she left. It broke me to see her like that and let her go."

Seeing you hurt because of him breaks him in ways he never imagined. He would give anything to erase the hurt he's caused, to mend the fractures in your relationship. But he knows that sometimes love requires sacrifice, even if it means bearing the weight of your pain.

Buck nods understandingly, setting his beer down on the coffee table. "It's all part of the plan, Tim. We knew it would be tough, but it's for the best." He tries to reassure Tim, understanding the struggle his friend is going through.

Tim looks at Buck, gratitude in his eyes. "I know, I know. It's just hard, you know? Seeing her hurt and knowing I'm the cause of it, even if it's for a good reason."

Buck places a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder. "At least this will buy us some time. Where's she now?"

Tim smiles slightly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "At Lucy's. She texted me when Y/N got there. She'll be crashing on Lucy's couch."

Buck chuckles, picking up his beer again. "Good, at least she's safe. Lucy will take care of her. She always does."

Tim nods, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, Lucy's been great. I'm glad she's there for Y/N."

The two men sit in companionable silence for a moment, the weight of their secret plan hanging in the air between them. It's a plan born out of love and a desire to create the perfect proposal for you, but it comes with its own set of challenges and emotions.

Buck's voice is filled with excitement. "You know, once all of this is over, and you've proposed, it's going to be amazing. Y/N is going to be over the moon."

Tim smiles, the vision of his future with you filling his mind. "I know, Buck. I can't wait to make her my wife."

Amidst the pain, there's a profound love that anchors him, a love so deep it eclipses the darkness of your current strife. You're more than just his partner; you're his rock, his solace, his reason for waking up each day with a smile. Your laughter brightens his darkest moments, your touch soothes his weary soul, and your presence fills his life with a sense of purpose and joy he never thought possible.

The two men raise their beers in a toast, their smiles reflecting the hope and love that fills their hearts.

Tim glances over at Lucy, his voice filled with concern. "How's Y/N holding up? I haven't heard from her since that night."

He can't shake the self-loathing that grips him, the regret for letting things escalate to this point.

Lucy raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. "A bit pissed at you, but she's safe."

"I hate myself for that. I really don't like this whole...situation. Especially letting her go and forcing her to sleep on your couch."

He never wanted to hurt you, never intended for things to unravel like this. And the idea of you sleeping on Lucy's couch, away from him, fills him with a sense of emptiness he can't bear.

She chuckles softly, her tone teasing. "You could've called, you know. Women like that kind of thing."

Tim lets out a sigh, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I figured as much. I just thought... well, some space might be good."

Lucy's teasing only adds to his discomfort, her playful jabs hitting a little too close to home. He knows he should have done a lot of things, but fear and uncertainty held him back, clouding his judgment with doubt.

Lucy raises an eyebrow, “Space, huh? Sounds like a classic Bradford move. But you might want to pick up the phone. Y/N deserves to know you’re not pushing her away.”

Tim chuckles, shaking his head. "Trust me, I plan to. I just needed some time to... you know, plan everything out, to get it right."

Lucy grins, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But you better make this worth it, you hear me?" She nudges him playfully. "And soon. She might love you and might be willing to wait for you, but don't test her patience."

Tim smiles, gratitude evident in his gaze. "I will, Lucy. And thanks, for everything."

Lucy waves him off with a chuckle. "Don't mention it. Just remember to thank me after she says yes." She winks at him, her smile warm and supportive.

You've been camping on the girls' couch for the past three days. It wasn't all that bad; some time off work was just what you needed, and your fight with Tim allowed you to sort through some old stuff.

When you were about to drift off to sleep again, Lucy burst into the living room. "Alright, couch potato, time to get up!”

You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face. “Five more minutes, Lucy.”

With a chuckle, Lucy yanked the pillow away and extended her hand. “Come on, Y/N. It’s time to get some fresh air. You can’t stay on my couch forever.”

Reluctantly, you accepted Lucy’s help to sit up. “What happened to ‘you’re always welcome here’? My free stay at Hotel Lucy is over?”

Lucy laughed. “Exactly. It’s check-out time, Missy.”

You smirked, slipping on your sneakers. "Well, send the bill to Bradford; he's the only one at fault for this."

With her keys in hand, Lucy grinned. “How about a ride along? A little patrol action might be good for you.”

Raising an eyebrow teasingly, you countered, “Trying to get rid of me, Lucy?”

She chuckled. “Just trying to help you get some fresh air. And maybe a little distraction.”

As you reluctantly rose from the comfort of Lucy's couch, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you. The past few days had been a rollercoaster of hurt, confusion, and a desperate longing to mend things with Tim. But amidst the chaos, there was a glimmer of hope – hope that today could mark the beginning of reconciliation, of healing the wounds that had torn you apart.

“Alright, alright. But only because I’m craving some fresh, questionable coffee from the station.”

“Deal. But you’re buying the donuts!” Lucy teased.

“Deal. But only if they have sprinkles.”

Suddenly, Lucy stopped and appraised you, shaking her head. “Oh no, no. You can’t possibly leave the house like that. Off to the shower with you, you’re starting to smell like my couch.”

Stepping into the shower, the warm water washing away the remnants of doubt and insecurity as you made a silent vow to yourself. Today would be the beginning of a new chapter for you both, a chance to rebuild what had been broken and to forge a stronger, more resilient bond.

You returned to find some of your clothes laid out on the couch, courtesy of Lucy and Tamara. Raising an eyebrow, you turned to Lucy. “Don’t you think that’s a little bit extra?”

It wasn't exactly what you'd wear for patrolling, but considering Tim probably handed them to Lucy, you couldn't really complain.

Just then, Tamara emerged from her bedroom with a smirk. “You should be thankful I didn’t pick the outfit.”

You chuckled, wondering why she wasn’t at school. “Fair enough. Shouldn’t you be at school by now?”

Tamara waved it off, pulling out her makeup kit. “I’ll miss the first period to do your makeup. You owe me.”

Sighing, you looked between Lucy and Tamara. “Come on, girls. It’s just a day of patrolling. Nothing special.”

Lucy shook her head, her eyes serious. “No, hun. Today you’ll be right next to Tim. Breathing in his neck. You need to show him what he’s missing.”

The engine's soft hum reverberates through the car as Tim navigates the streets, the tension inside as thick as the fog rolling in from the bay. Lucy rides shotgun, her mischievous glances back at you adding to the palpable unease. Seated in the back, you stare out the window, attempting to distract yourself with the passing scenery, anything to escape the suffocating silence.

Lucy's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, her cheeriness a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere. "Hey, Bradford," she chirps. "How about we make a quick stop for some coffee and donuts? My treat."

Tim's eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, briefly meeting yours before he nods. "Sure, sounds good."

Pulling into a local coffee shop's parking lot, Lucy practically leaps out of the car, leaving you and Tim alone for a fleeting moment.

"You could've called," you murmur softly, finally breaking the suffocating silence. "Three days, Tim."

Tim's grip tightens on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. "I know, Y/N. I'm sorry. It's... it's complicated."

Before you can delve deeper, Lucy returns with a tray laden with coffee and a box of donuts. She hands you a cup before settling into her seat, her eyes glinting with an inscrutable knowingness.

As Tim lifts his coffee to his lips, you notice the slight tremble in his hand. "Everything okay, Tim?" Lucy inquires, her innocence a thin veil over her ulterior motives.

Tim clears his throat, averting his gaze. "Yeah, just a bit tired, I guess."

Lucy's smirk is unmistakable as she reaches for a donut. "Well, these should help with that."

Taking a sip of your coffee, you feel its warmth spreading through you, but it does little to dispel the tension in the air. However, there's a shift—a subtle change in the atmosphere. The silence is no longer suffocating; instead, it's pregnant with anticipation, each breath heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, Tim speaks, his voice laced with vulnerability. "Y/N, about the fight... I never meant to hurt you. I just needed some time to sort things out."

You meet his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes tugging at something deep within you. There's a weight to his words, a heaviness that speaks volumes about the distress he's been wrestling with.

As the shop continues its journey, the tension remains, but it's tempered now by a sense of curiosity and cautious hope. Unbeknownst to you, Tim's anxiety isn't solely about your relationship, and Lucy's scheming grin betrays her satisfaction with how her plan is unfolding.

Throughout the day, Tim's behavior had been perplexing, he carefully avoided any calls that hinted at danger. It felt as though he was intentionally shielding you from harm, a protective barrier wrapped around you even as you yearned for the adrenaline rush of the job.

But the tranquility of the day shattered with Nolan's urgent call for backup. The gravity of the situation hit you like a sledgehammer, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Dispatch, this is Officer Nolan, requesting backup at my location. Officers under fire, need immediate assistance,” Nolan’s voice is clear and urgent.

Without hesitation, Tim accepts the call, urgency in his voice for the first time that day. “Roger that, Nolan. We’re en route.”

Tim accelerates towards the scene, the Griffith Observatory coming into view. The iconic building stands majestically atop the hill, its silhouette against the clear blue sky adding a surreal beauty to the unfolding situation.

As you arrived on the scene, the deafening sound of gunfire filled the air, drowning out any semblance of normalcy. Lucy and Tim sprang into action, their movements swift and purposeful as they navigated the chaos.

"Stay in the car, Y/N!" Tim's command pierced through the chaos, his tone leaving no room for debate.

But as you sat there, the abrupt silence that followed sent a chill down your spine. Lucy's panicked cry for Tim shattered the stillness, sending your heart into overdrive, “Bradford!”

Ignoring Tim's orders, you bolted from the shop, desperation fuelling your every step. The scene before you was a tableau of chaos and confusion, the beauty of the Observatory juxtaposed against the violence that unfolded within its walls.

You searched frantically for any sign of Tim or Lucy, all you found was Tim's abandoned radio, a silent witness to the turmoil that had unfolded.

The setting sun cast long shadows, casting an eerie glow over the scene, a reminder of the fragility of life in the face of danger. And the tension is electric, like the calm before a storm. Tim’s voice crackles through the radio, cutting through the silence.

“Y/N Buckley, can you hear me?"

Tim's heart races with anticipation as he waits for your response. He's nervous, hoping that you'll hear him clearly. He wonders if you'll be able to sense the nerves in his voice, hoping that you'll understand the significance of what he's about to do.

Grinning, you grab the radio. “Loud and clear, Bradford” you replied, your voice steady but your pulse quickening with each passing second.

A pause stretches out, thick with anticipation. “Close your eyes, Buckley. And this time, try not to defy a direct order.”

Rolling your eyes but intrigued, you humor him and shut your eyes, taking a deep breath of the crisp air, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. You focused on the sound of Tim's voice, letting it wash over you like a warm embrace as he began to speak.

"You and I, Y/N, we’re a wild ride,” Tim starts, his voice unexpectedly tender. “Who would’ve thought our journey would lead us here, to this crazy, beautiful moment?”

As Tim's voice crackled through the radio, a surge of nervous energy swept through him. He had rehearsed his words a thousand times in his mind, but now that the moment was upon him, he couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt.

The weight of the ring in his hand served as a reminder of the gravity of the situation, filling him with both excitement and trepidation.

A soft touch grazes your hand, sending a thrill up your spine. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“You challenge me, drive me nuts, and somehow make me a better man,” he continues through the radio, a hint of a smile in his voice. “And damn it, I love you for it.”

You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. As you listen, you feel tears prickling at the corners of your closed eyes. Tim's words resonate with you, stirring something within yourself that you can't quite put into words.

You want to open your eyes, to see the man you love more clearly, but you also want to savor this moment a little while longer.With each word, you feel your heart swell with love for Tim. His vulnerability, his honesty, it all takes your breath away, leaving you utterly captivated.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," Tim's voice breaks through your reverie, pulling you back to the present moment.

With a flutter of excitement, you obey, slowly parting your eyelids to reveal the sight before you. There is Tim, his eyes filled with love and longing as he slowly kneels down before your eyes, a small velvet box in his hand. The sight of him, vulnerable and trembling, fills you with a sense of awe and gratitude as the setting sun casts a golden halo around him, the cityscape stretching out behind him in a breathtaking panorama.

Tears of joy well in your eyes as you take in the sight of the ring in his hand, your heart overflowing with love for the man who means the world to you.

“Y/N Buckley,” Tim’s voice wavers just a bit, “will you marry me?”

For a moment, you are stunned into silence, your mind reeling with the weight of his question. You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside, threatening to spill over at any moment. This is it, the moment you've been dreaming of, the moment you've been waiting for since you laid eyes on Tim, few years back.

Tim chuckles, a nervous but endearing laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

"Yes, Tim. A thousand times, yes!" your voice choked with tears, as your words ring out into the night, a declaration of love and commitment that echoes through the air.

With a trembling hand, Tim slips the ring onto your finger, sealing their promise with a simple yet profound gesture. As your eyes meet once more, you share a moment of perfect understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the love that binds you together.

Without another word, you're in each other's arms, holding onto each other tightly as if trying to make up for all the time you've lost. In that moment, nothing else matters but the overwhelming love you share, a love that has weathered every storm and emerged stronger than ever before.

Tim's lips meet yours in a tender kiss, a sweet yet passionate embrace that speaks volumes more than words ever could. You cling to each other, lost in the intensity of your emotions, your hearts beating as one in the darkness.

As you pull away, breathless and flushed with emotion, you share a smile that lights up the night. In each other's arms, you find solace and strength, knowing that no matter what the future holds, you'll face it together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

Nolan chimes in through the radio, his voice filled with laughter. "Bradford, are we breaking out the champagne or what?"

Tim's smile widens at Nolan's words, and he glances over at you with a playful twinkle in his eye. "Hold off on the champagne, Nolan," he replies, unable to suppress a laugh. "She said yes."

Murmuring softly, Tim leaned in close to your ear. "I guess I didn’t mess this one up, huh?"

You chuckled softly, leaning into his embrace. "Not this time, Bradford."

#tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie imagine #tim bradford x reader #the rookie one shot #the rookie x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford imagines #tim bradford x you #tim bradford one shots #tim bradford fluff #tim the rookie fluff #tim the rookie imagine #the rookie fluff #tim the rookie #the rookie #buckley!sister #evan buck buckley sister #evan buck buckley #buck #911 #lucy chen #911 fandom #buck x sister #buck x sister!reader #buckley!reader #tim bradford x buckley!reader

[hijinxinprogress]

I need the jl to discover that Captain Marvel is a menace

Billy gets arrested as Captain Marvel and he’s just a smug menace the whole time despite being on comms with the league “Of course, I understand the seriousness of this situation! I will absolutely comply, I completely understand that you need the code…the code is 1-3-1-2. Also, I want my lawyer 😇” which gets leaked to the press both audio and visual which leads to the jl claiming that CM had been impersonated and their only evidence is the stupid ass grin on his face

The jl was investigating the misuse of a magical artifact and discovered that a group of police officers had joined a cult. Before they had the chance to gather the evidence proving those officers guilty but they’d already sealed away the artifact so Marvel suggested getting himself arrested to incriminate them and he was a little too happy about it

Let’s be honest, Billy only gets caught by the police bc he can commit to a bit and he’s pretending to be an ancient magic immortal so why would he run from a regular civilian human?? But on the inside Billy is dry heaving and sobbing bc he knows that the police could never catch him on his worst day even if he was personally broadcasting his location

Speaking of broadcasting isn’t Billy a fucking radio host?? I know he’s a fucking asshole during commercial breaks “This next commercial reminds me of a recent encounter with officer smith who got lost three blocks from his station” and it cuts to a fucking toilet paper commercial (people swear they heard him mutter ‘bc you’re absolute shit at your job’)

Sometimes people will call in to debate his views on the police and he’ll have a three hour philosophical debate but actual cops will call in to argue with him and Billy’s making your mom jokes and playing air horn noises or 2016 vines like a fucking child 

Billy probably gets caught when he graduates high school bc his yearbook quote is like marvels most well known quote “Captain Marvel coast city precinct, interrogation room 5 (Oct 14 XXXX) 3:37-4:31” billy added too much information and it gets flagged by the watchtowers security system so the jl has a meeting about the breach in security and Marvel’s like ‘yeaaahh, that was me mb’ and batman is making disapproving noises bc ‘this is serious, Marvel! high school graduate, William-’ he can’t finish bc Marvel’s gagging dramatically ‘Billy. It’s Billy ohmygod’

batman, on the verge of a breakdown: who is this kid?? Why does he know the time, date, and location of an undercover league operation??

Marvel, avoiding eye contact with Cyborg who helped picked out his outfit for the yearbook photo currently being projected: ahaha about that…

Cyborg, who distinctly remembers telling Billy not to do anything fucking stupid: 😐

(Vic has framed the picture of the ‘oh shit’ look on Billy’s face when superman lunges across the table damn near in hysterics)

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #justice league #dc comics #billy batson says acab #street kid billy batson #ACAB!billy batson #feral billy batson #batman #superman #cyborg dc #Hal is also an asshole so the next time batman lectures him he’s like ‘dude you punched a four year old 🤨 I can’t fuck up worse than that #Billy offended: ‘I was eight actually’ #Barry 🤏🏾 close to sobbing: ‘that’s not better…you know that right?’

[xan-izme]

Across the Spidervers x Venom!femReader {Bad ending}

(Reader is Māori)

Summary: Reader was one of the Spidey's that helped Miles save his city from disaster. She returns home, a little while later, Gwen comes to recruit Reader. But this don't go very well.

TW: character death, mental health, trust issues, betrayal, cursing, held captive, traps, mentions of killing

—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—––—–—–

You were Spider woman. Yes, you knew that. Your uncle knew that and your friends from other dimensions knew that too! Friends who you missed dearly.

The life as Spider-woman would be tiring at times, but the felling of knowing that the city where your family and many other families live are safe; Was something you needed to know an able to sleep.

But you felt so alone. Missing your friends, missing swinging through a city with them and defeat evil. Joking around and the small meal breaks. You haven't been able to connect with others that much after becoming Spider-woman, it seemed like crime happened everywhere every day.

One day, when you were going against another villain, who was actually a very new one to you.

"So uh, what are you supposed to be? --" You swung up in the air, dodging the attack.

"Some, Super . . .goo?" You watched as dark gooey liquid drip off from it's deformed body.

'Ew'

"You . . . die!" The monster shouted. The thing picked up a large bolder from the wrek and threw it twards you.

You shot your webs at the bolder and jumped up, throwing it right back at it.

"That's not a really nice thing to say man." You continue with your witty comments when trying your best to take down the monster. Then suddenly, the thing begins to glitch. This gave you a little heart attack, knowing the feeling all too well.

"I see, you're from another dimension." You mumbled as the monster's glitching was a little long.

Suddenly, the gooey thing shot itself at you. Luckily you got out the way. But the goo stuck onto you, making your foot and hand stick to the ground and wall.

"Mother--nature!" You shout in frustration.

"Spider-Woman!" You hear a familiar voice shout. You quickly turn your head to see your father, captain of the Brooklyn police force. You clear your voice before speaking in a deep voice.

"uh- Stand back! no need for assistance Captain l/n!" You shout back at your dad who had other officers behind him, ready to engage. You used all of your strength to get your foot out of the goo that had harden instantly. After breaking your foot free. You kicked at whatever the gooey monster threw at you.

Suddenly, some portal opened up. Thats when a figure quickly shot out of it. It didn't take you long to realize who it was.

"Gwen!" right when you and Gwen were away from the civilians, you couldn't help your excitement to hug the living hell out of the blond. Gwen laughed.

"It's nice to see you too." Gwen laughed out as she hugged you back. Gwen began to tell you about the Spider Society and how she wanted to recruit you. She told you the higher up wanted to meet with you about a serious situation that was to happen in your universe.

You got concerned for a moment. You cared about your city and everyone in it. So, if your wold is in trouble, then you would of course get involved.

Gwen gave you a day pass bracelet so you wouldn't glitch like crazy. Before entering the portal, you looked back, wondering what your other family members were doing at the moment. Hoping they would be safe.

The Spider society was honestly amazing. You met and had some fun with people who were like you. You felt so happy, smiling non-stop. Gwen laughed as you acted like a child in a candy store.

Then you both stopped big doors. "Miguel said he wanted to meet with you alone. Y-you alright with that?"

You smiled, a little nervous to meet the big boss of this whole thing. But you reassured her and walked in alone. Before the doors closed, your turned around and gave her a thumbs up and said, "Wish me luck."

The doors closed. It was a little dim, but you were able to see good enough. You breathed in and calmed yourself down, pulling your mask down and walking to where you see more light coming from a specific spot in the big room.

"Uh- H-hello? Mr. O'Hara?" You see a man in a dark blue and red suite. The aura around the man made you nervous, his built just added on to your little fears. You cleared your throat and straightened up.

"I'm Y/n L/n. I was told you wanted to see me . . . sir?" Miguel got closer to you with a stoic look on his face.

"We know who you are kid." Miguel spoke. You frown at the word 'we' and search the room and see a woman who was. . . pregnant. You were a little confused, and worried.

"Um. . . don't y'all get like, paternity leave or something?" You pointed out at the woman. Miguel ignored your comment.

"Where's Gwen?" His words sounded like a question, but not at the same time. "She said you wanted to see me alone. Hey, I kind of need to be back soon. No disrespect sir, but I got school and stuff. . . " You cringed at how dumb you sounded.

Miguel and the woman in the room gave each other a look.

Miguel began to explain the problem.

Apparently, ever since your time in earth 1016, your experience there had changed your mindset on a lot of things, including certain things that were a part of your 'canon' as Miguel called it.

"What . . . what's wrong with that?" You were generally confused, what part of your canon did you accidentally prevented.

Lyla then showed multiple canon events, all the same, all that had happened in different universes.

"Every Spidey loses someone, most of them fall in love and most of them lose that lover. For you, your canon involves family members."

"What?"

"Now we don't know which of your family members would die--"

"The hell, if that supposed to make me feel better!?" You were getting upset, rightfully so.

"Look kid, we know this is hard for you to take in." The woman known as Jessica spoke up. ''But you are your own anomaly, the more you stay with your family the way you are doing at the moment, the more damage you'll inflect on your world."

"Wha- . . . You can't just tell me one of my family members are going to die and tell me not to fucking interfere. My mother is pregnant! my siblings are literally toddlers, my dad- he just got his new position as captain." Your mind was going into a panic, you can't lose any of them. Your family was your whole world, you already lost someone you can't afford to lose again. You know deep inside if you lose anyone else, you'll brake.

And there is nothing you are more afraid of then braking.

Miguel sighed. "I'm sorry kid, but let's be honest. If it weren't for Miles Morals, you wouldn.t be in this situation." Miguel spoke as multiple other Spider people surrounded you. You frown and look around to see all of them.

"What . . . what's going on? . . . Where's Gwen!" Suddenly a gadget was tossed to your feet. And before you could react, a forcefield was put up around you.

And that, that is when you freaked out.

"Once this timer goes off, that is when we set you free. Just a few days kiddo."

Your eyes shifted to the timer. 2 days.

You shouted, banged on the forcefield, used as much strength as you could to try and get out.

"LET ME OUT! GWEN! GWEN HELP ME!" You shouted for your friend. You shouted for help. But alas, no aid came to you.

"Please Y/n. The more you struggle the harder it will be for us." You hear someone say, but you ignore and keep slamming your body against the transparent walls.

Then suddenly your Spidey senses tingled. You look around the room, then you noticed a familiar white and black suit. "Gwen! Gwen help me! Please help!"

Gwen walked up to you. She stared you in the eyes, your face expression dropped when you noticed the look of pain in her eyes. Gwen held herself and turned away from you. "Gwen . . .?"

"You did good Gwen." Jessica began to pat Gwen on the back. Your eyes widen in utter disbelief. "Gwen? Gwen!" You began to bang on the forcefield, tears already threatening to fall. Your face was covered by your mask, but everyone can hear your voice cracks.

Betrayal was all you felt as you continued to try and claw out of the forcefield, for a moment you were almost successful. Then Miguel was able to put on hologram like chains to chain you on the ground to prevent you from clawing at the barrier.

The timer went off. You watched the multiple zeros blinking. Your body felt limp, weak as the forcefield and chains disappeared. Miguel had opened a portal. You ignored him and Jessica as you chanted the names of each family member, slowly going through the portal.

The moment you stepped through, it was chaos. Your families' names repeating in your head praying to all the Gods you knew of to please spare your family.

Finally, you found a familiar body, laying limp under some ruble. Swinging down quickly, you used your strength to get the man free.

Taking your mask off, you lifted the upper half of your father's body.

"Papa" You whisper out. Moving away his hair that was in the way of his face. His eyes slowly opened to see you, his beautiful strong daughter.

"Y/n . . . ko Koe." His voice was small, but firm. You smiled through your tears.

"Yes, it's me." Your vision would get blurry here and there, but the tears would immediately fall the moment you blinked.

"You are in trouble. You were late for dinner." Your father reached up to cup your face. Just for him to pinch your cheek. Even when close to death, he still scolds you.

It didn't take long for him to lose consciousness. You cried and held his body close. Rocking back and forth as you prayed and prayed. Begging for any god to help you.

You didn't notice Gwen slowly approaching you. She mends down and watches as you cradled your father's body in your arms. Gwen reached her arm out and held your shoulder.

"We have to go, before the police get here--"

"Tuku- Tukua--"

"We need to go Y/n--"

"Tukua ahau!" You smacked her hand away and stood up. Hot tears running down your face.

"I whakarerea ahau e koe!" You began to shout in your native tongue. Frustrated, hurt, betrayed.

And the feeling of dishonor you had brought onto yourself was the worse feeling overpowering everything else.

"You are no friend of mine.''

Those words shattered Gwen.

"Leave. GO! Never return." Gwen stumbled back as you returned back to your father. Holding him back in your arms, half expecting him to hold you back.

Overtaken by grief and betrayal, you refused to let the Spider society to help with the anomalies, only you deal with them and send them in a portal back to HQ.

You gained a new power, discarding your tittle as 'Spider-woman', and taking on the tittle 'Venom'.

Venom was, well-- Venom was a handful at first. But Venom helped you become stronger. Helped you defend your city and your family.

Your family took a big hit by the loss of your father.

Sighing as you sat down on the clock tower. Looking over the city, wondering how Miles was doing. Hoping the boy didn't get caught up with Gwen and Peter B.

Miles was probably the only one you still saw as a friend.

'Hungry'

You groan "We already ate Venom."

'You call that food? That was nothing but a maar snack. I want something more! something fresh~"

"Okay one, ew. Two, I'm on a diet."

You hear Venom scoffed. 'Your diet is ew' Venom spoke in a mocking tone. Causing you to roll your eyes.

Out of nowhere, a portal opened up. You were fast on your feet. The portal was a little different from the others, making you stay on guard even more. That's when Multiple Spider people came out.

One specifically that came out angered you in multiple ways. You stayed in place, staying silent.

"Y/n! we need your help!" Gwen came running to you. You silenced out her words and focused on the panic and desperation on her face.

You wonder, if you could just reject her, shun her out and watch the look of despair take over her. That sounded very satisfying.

"Please, say something. Anything! I know what I did was unforgivable, but--" You stayed silent as Gwen was practically begging.

You look up to see some old friends, and new people. You stared at Peni for a moment.

You passed Gwen and walked towards the young teen who was in a new model of her robot.

". . .Nice ride."

Peni's eyes widen at the familiar words that brought back a nice memory. Peni chuckled "Thanks. . . nice suit."

The two of you shared a few seconds of silence. Peni jumped out of the robot and hugged you. You were quick to hold her tight.

You're not blind, it's clear all of you have suffered one way or another.

You set Peni down.

You turned your head to Gwen.

"I have told you to never return." You spoke, your back still faced to the blond. "I know! But Miles-" Gwen was cut off by your hand that rose up to silence her.

"I know of Miles and his situation. But I have my universe to protect. A family I need to keep alive." You walked further away from the group. Venom forming in and taking over at the last word.

"My answer will be the same answer you gave me when I begged you for help."

You will not forgive the ones who hurt you, betray you or your family. Right now, you don't care about anyone else but the ones you have now. You refuse to risk it. Refuse to gamble the lives of your siblings and mother.

And never, will you ever risk your honor, and the honor of your father.

Okay, before ya'll bash me about the Māori part, I know adding on a culture is a little off for many. I just wanted to add on a Māori reader because I don't see many representations of them. So, if any of my Māori readers dislike this, I will gladly change it.

#atsv x reader #Gwen stacy #angst no happy ending #angst no comfort #mental health #Māori reader #venom reader #miguel o'hara #miles morales

[section-chief-prentiss]

Midnights Chapter 1: Wake

Collection Summary: A collection of one-shots of sleepless nights between you and Emily. 

Chapter Summary: You wake up after a nightmare and Emily comforts you. 

Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Reader 

Word Count: 897

Ao3

“Where is she?” you asked, not even bothering to close the car door behind you as you ran toward Hotch.

Hotch’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Y/N—”

“She did not go inside without backup,” you said, hoping if you said it forcefully enough that it would be true. “She did not go into a massive warehouse after a known bomber by herself.”

Hotch’s lack of response was all you needed.

“Give me a vest,” you said, holding a hand out.

Behind Hotch, Morgan reached for an FBI vest, but Hotch held a hand up to stop him. 

“I can’t let you do that,” he said.

“Hotch, she’s my partner. What if it was Haley in there?” 

Hotch grimaced. “That would be different; Haley’s a civilian. Emily’s trained, and we sent the bomb squad in behind her.” 

“You can’t expect me to just stand here and do nothing!”

“I won’t risk sending in more agents when it isn’t necessary. She’s looking for the child the unsub kidnapped, not the bomber.”

“We profiled that the unsub would keep the child with him. If the building explodes—” you broke off, unable to finish the thought.

“Y/N, if you can’t compose yourself, I’ll have JJ take you back to the field office. We need to keep level heads in front of the public.”

You glanced behind him at the crowd that was forming behind the police barricade and hated that he was right. Even still, you had to bite down on the retort that was dying to surface, knowing that if you let it, it would be accompanied by several four-letter words that your superior was not likely to appreciate.

“Come here,” JJ said, wrapping an arm around you, and walking you out of earshot of your teammates.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, fighting back tears. “Why would she go in alone?”

JJ’s expression softened. “You know why. She’d never leave a child in danger if she could help it.”

At that moment, you hated your girlfriend’s compassionate heart. 

JJ reached a hand up to her earpiece, listening for something that you couldn’t hear, and smiled. “Emily has the girl. There’s no sign of the unsub, and she’s on her way back out.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. You’d see her soon, and then your heart would be whole again.

You turned toward the building, your eyes jumping between each set of doors, wondering where Emily would emerge from.

It gave you the perfect view as the building went up in flames.

“No!” you screamed, breaking into a run before you could think about it. 

JJ’s arms were around you in an instant, holding you back. Morgan rushed over to assist her as you tried to fight out of their grasp.

“Let me go!” you sobbed. “Let me go! Emily! Emily!”

“Y/N,” another voice whispered. “Y/N, wake up. It’s okay.”

Your eyes flew open, and you pressed a hand against your racing heart. The bedroom around you was dark, but you’d know the soft scent of the woman next to you anywhere. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Emily murmured, stroking your hair. “You were screaming my name.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you were grateful to the darkness for concealing it. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You rolled on your side to face your girlfriend, who was propped up on an elbow, looking at you with a mix of love and concern. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I get them, too. Do you want to talk about it?”

You nodded, and Emily took your hand. 

“It was last week’s case,” you whispered.

“The bomber?” she asked, and you nodded.

“You didn’t make it out in time. The building went up with you in it.” 

She sucked in breath. “Oh, Y/N. But it didn’t; I’m right here.”

“It could’ve,” you said, gesturing toward a bandage on her arm, concealing a burn that was still healing. 

Emily and the little girl—Clara—made it out of the building, but not for lack of effort. The unsub caught up to them near the exit, and Emily was burned protecting Clara. In the end, they made it out alive, and the unsub was apprehended. 

But you hadn’t been able to shake the fear that had consumed you that day and followed you ever since.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I’m so sorry for scaring you. I wasn’t thinking, and I know now if the roles had been reversed—” she stopped herself. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it, either.”

“Promise me,” you replied. “Promise me that you’ll wait for backup in the future. I know there’s always danger, but the thought of you facing a situation like that alone again paralyzes me.” 

“I promise,” Emily said, squeezing your hand. “And I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know,” you smirked, rolling over to face away from her. Moments later, Emily started rubbing circles on your back, immediately putting you at ease. She always knew the best ways to relax you.

You snuggled deeper under the covers as she continued making circles up and down your back, and you managed to murmur, “I love you,” as you drifted off to sleep.

Just before you did, you felt Emily peck a kiss on the back of your neck and whisper, “I love you, too.” 

Tag List: @yena-reyna, @propertyofemilyprentiss, @chaekhan, @obsessedwjill, @mrs-prentiss, @i-lovefandom Join my tag list!

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #fanfiction #paget brewster #pagetbrewster #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #emily prentiss x reader #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #nightmare #comfort

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 1

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: none -- oh you get thrown into a vat of radioactive liquid, but it doesn't hurt too bad.

a/n: when you think of another fic idea in the middle of writing your other WIP :D

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 716

part 2 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Here’s a riddle:

“What do you get when you push an unemployed woman into a vat of radioactive liquid?”

Apparently, an unemployed enemy of the state. 

You were never the kind of girl who grew up ripping the heads off of your Barbies, or a woman who falls in love with a guy at the insane asylum. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

As soon as your head ducked under the burning liquid, you thought you were dead. So you let go and stopped struggling. But really, is there anyone in history who hasn’t survived being pushed into a vat of something?

For example, there's Electro with the eels, and Sandman with the, uh, sand, so you really shouldn’t have been surprised when you woke up with more energy than you’ve ever felt before, though your back was killing you.

Opening your eyes, you noticed you were splayed over a sidewalk, clothes barely covering you as most of the fabric disintegrated in the power plant. Then you saw fire. Lots of fucking fire.

With a quick turn of your head, your eyes followed the trail of destruction all the way back to the exploded building where the accident happened. And before you knew it, you were in cuffs, being questioned by the police.

It’s easy to break out of jail, especially when you can burn right through the iron bars. And it’s easy to lose the cops too when you can scale buildings.

Despite your increased strength, agility, and sensitized hearing, there are several setbacks to being a random woman full of radioactive energy. Your hair, for one, is completely orange. Who knew radioactive juices acted like cheap boxed bleach?

You constantly have to re-dye it back to your original shade and use tons of hair oil to keep it from frizzing up but it only really lasts for a day or two. Talk about having awkward one-night stands…

Unfortunately, your hair is the most recognizable feature of yours so civilians started to call you “Blaze” like some sort of Fantastic Four character. You hate it. 

You also can’t get a job because you’re the most wanted woman in Nueva York. So you resort to “borrowing” some money from rich people who definitely wouldn’t notice or care. And then you got caught.

“So it’s been you this whole time?” The low voice makes you jump. You weren’t expecting anyone to be home. “So you’re the one stealing hundreds of dollars from innocent civilians?”  The Spider-man slowly walks out from the shadowed corner of the office, making the moment as dramatic as possible. 

You quickly close whoever’s laptop you were trying to get into before holding your hands up in a dumb attempt to act innocent. He looks unimpressed by your ‘sneaky outfit’, eyes pouring over the black turtleneck and faded black jeans. Look, it’s not like you had a closet full of options.

You frown, “They’re hardly innocent.”

“Hm,” He slides the laptop toward himself, opening it up to see how far in you got. You didn’t. You were about to give up and leave before he interrupted you. “How so?”

You scoff without thinking about it, “You think a person can make billions of dollars without taking advantage of people?” Apparently, your words amuse him, and a small smirk quirks on his lips. The light of the computer reflects against his cherry red irises. He’s… pretty.

“All I know,” He shuts the laptop and finally looks up at you, dropping any hint of his previous smile. “Is that you blew up a power plant, escaped prison, and now live off of the money that you’re taking from others.”

“C’mon Spider-Man, it’s only a couple of bucks. I don’t have a job–”

“No kidding.” He shakes his head and takes a second to think about something before offering you a hand over the desk, almost like a peace offering. “Here’s my proposition: you come with me and we can get some dinner before getting you back to where you belong.” You quirk a brow upwards, suspicious of his change in tone. “Come on, it’s late. I’d rather avoid the fighting part.” 

“Back to…where?”

“Prison, honey.” 

That was the start of your cat-and-mouse relationship with the one and only, Spider-Man.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #spider-man across the spider verse #cat and mouse

[racefortheironthrone]

What are your thoughts on Police Unions and calls to have them thrown out of the AFL CIO?

The last time that police unions actually acted like unions was the Boston police strike of 1919 (that unfortunately catapulted Cal Coolidge into national political prominence). After that, the basic labor relations between the state and police unions began to change in ways that are not recognizable as standard trade unionism.

The shift really began in the 1930s, when the rise of industrial unionism and attendant strike activity scared the shit out of the employers and their allies in government, because the usual Pinkertons and American Legion thugs were not enough to keep a lid on the situation. Hence the need to keep the police unions on the side of the employers rather than allow any possibility of siding with the strikers - thus you start to see police unions getting easily recognized, wage increases getting thrown around like candy, anything to keep the strikebreakers sweet.

However, it particularly morphed during the Second Great Migration (1940s through 1970), when the sudden emergence or at least rapid expansion of black populations in Northeastern, Midwestern, and Western cities scared the shit out of the municipal establishment in similar, yet distinct ways than the earlier union uprising had. In this period, an informal understanding was reached that the elected officials would block, slow-walk, or otherwise frustrate attempts by activists to impose accountability on police through civilian complaint review boards and other mechanisms, in exchange for police making upholding the racial hierarchy one of their enforcement priorities.

The expansion of grievance and arbitration procedures to include shootings and other acts of police brutality, written reprimands and other punishments from management, civilian complaints of abuse of power, officers' misconduct records and the extent to which they could be made public or even shared with future employers - the whole intricate mechanism by which police union contracts were turned into a bulwark against accountability - was part of this quid-pro-quo alliance between the state and police in the face of the emergent civil rights movement.

That's part of what slightly gives me pause about the left critique of police union contracts, because I think this alliance would have been constructed, maintained, and expanded over the decades whether or not police were unionized. The means would have been different, probably exercised through city charters, local ordinances, judicial precedents (even more so), but the ends would be the same. And if activists actually managed to eliminate a police union contract today, I'm absolutely confident that municipal government would rebuild it the next day, because they're absolutely scared of police slowdowns.

As to chucking them out of the AFL-CIO, it's not a bad thing per se, but I do want people to understand that it would be purely symbolic. The AFL-CIO is a union federation, it doesn't really have much in the way of direct authority over member unions, or exclusive access to resources that outpace what the member unions have. To give a historical example, the AFL-CIO expelled the Teamsters back in the 50s for being mobbed-up and it didn't change the Teamsters one bit - they kept on being mobbed-up until the Teamsters for a Democratic Union challenged the Hoffaites in the 70s and the Justice Department went after them with RICO charges in the 80s.

#history #labor history #police unions

[lilislegacy]

HEROES OF OLYMPUS FANS

idea: young adult argo II crew being bamfs

i would sell my soul, and my best friend’s soul, and my sister’s soul, for rick to write a book with the argo II crew as young adults and just being absolute icons in a totally experienced way. no more questioning themselves like when they were young. they’re powerful and confident and nothing surprises them. they’re famous in the demigod world. they’re legends. they know what they’re doing. no one fucks with them.

i would have it start out kinda like how TLO began with percy and beckendorf’s mission. it would be like those movies where the main characters are breaking into some facility. only it’s some monster/olympian-enemy using said facility as a secret base for their operations (kinda like the amazons.)

it’s night. they’re all in dark clothes. annabeth and frank planned the whole thing. percy casually causes a massive explosion via a nearby water tank or something, causing a distraction and making everyone in the facility run out to see what’s going on. annabeth has the whole place mentally mapped out, and her and leo disarm every security system measure in like 3 seconds. frank turns into some kind of animal - maybe a monkey - and climbs/hops across the walls and ceilings, destroying the security cameras and sensors. any guards/civilians running past them only see what hazel wants them to see. and every monster who gets in their way is dead within seconds - they should not have messed with these demigods. piper plays on the fear of the guards to easily get information out of them. annabeth gets the objects they need, and then leo lights the entire place on fire. percy and leo can’t be burned, but percy protects the rest of them by triggering every sprinkler they walk under, which then turn off when they walk away. they calmly walk out through the front doors of the building - which is now up in flames - where there are dozens of police officers and firefighters and news channels around. they should be arrested/surrounded, except hazel manipulates the mist to make them all look like police officers and first responders. and frank is now a german shepard, a police dog, to really sell it. anyone who approaches them, piper uses charmspeak to throw them off. and just to be sure the enemy base is destroyed - and now that everyone is out of the building - percy causes a targeted earthquake, making the entire huge facility crumble to the ground.

then they just casually walk into the night, away from the mass chaos that they caused. the base is completely destroyed, but their enemies can’t figure out who did it or how it was done.

little do they know that the ones who did it just walked in and out, in plain sight.

#no one say a word about who’s missing #but wouldn’t this be AWESOME?? #like they’re all just a bunch of bamfs #i love them #legends #percy jackson #annabeth chase #piper mclean #leo valdez #hazel levesque #frank zhang #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #SOMEONE SEND THIS TO RICK #rick riordan

[chiefdirector]

Care for her | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

No. 14: field medicine

As a police officer you always have to stay vigilant. Danger could come from anywhere at anytime, and when you’re putting your life on the line in a daily basis, it becomes a good habit to a) make it home in the first place and b) make it home relatively uninhured.

The LAPD offered training on how to ward off potential attackers, especially those with knives and other sharp, stab-able objects. They also trained their officers in what to do in the event that they were stabbed. This did not provide any comfort to Detective (Y/N) (L/N).

Tim, the LAPD’s poster boy for model cop, already knew what to do. He barked commands at anyone who could listen and (Y/N) was sure he demanded something of her too but she couldn’t hear him. Just looking down at the blood pooling through her shirt from her side made her ears ring at a deafening level.

She had always been good with blood and injuries but when it was on herself she shut down, and Tim knew this. He gentle shook her shoulders, bringing her attention to him. She still couldn’t hear him, but she followed his lead as he guided her to the ground to lean against a wall.

For a fleeting moment she though that she may die. It would be a pitiful end to a life barely lived. Of course it would be her luck to die in a liquor store full of drunks and lowlifes. But as she watched Tim continue to bark commands at any civilian nearby to get what she could only assume was a first aid kit and an ambulance called.

He quickly grabbed a bottle of generic vodka before settling in by her side again. He held it out to her. “One swig then you’re done.”

She hesitated as she took the bottle. However she knocked it bag quickly, wincing as the taste settled in. She shoved the bottle back into Tim’s hand to let him disinfect her very bloody stab wound.

“This is gonna hurt.” He didn’t allow her time to respond before he moved her shirt out of the way and generously poured it over the wound, ensuring no part was left uncoated.

Tim tried to avoid her wince of pain. Their relationship was strictly professional; it was in theory anyway. If anyone asked Tim he would say that they were dedicated but they were a detective so they couldn’t be that great. But he would want to answer about how kind and compassionate they were. He would want to talk about how their sense of humours align or how they’re always in sync, like two halves of a whole.

But he had a relationship with someone on the force before. What happened with Isabelle broke his heart, and Tim knew that he couldn’t put himself in that position again. So he would resign himself to tending to her wounds and caring for her whenever he can.

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #the rookie #the rookie imagine #ailesswhumptober2023 #chiefdirector

[darkdemeter]

THE CONVICT WOLF: A COURTESY CALL AWAY

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN #1 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — Yaaaay, first chapter for Convict is here. Yee!

WORD COUNT — 3.3k

READER DISCRETION — This series as a whole contains sensitive material that some readers may find triggering ; Profanity — depictions of blood, murder and violence — some angst — criminal reader — Hydra's return — mystery — I think that's it?

— NEXT COLUMN

SUMMARY — They say that the past catches up with you at one point or the next. You've always been as careful as your notorious reputation allows. It's not enough when your anonymous client seems to know you a little more for your own liking. And Wanda leaves a new message for their missing teammate.

And people still get in your way. And they get hurt. If that is the way things are to be, you won’t so much as blink the next time your actions cause catastrophe. New York, as you predicted, is awake in full swing and beset by panic. 

Those who managed to escape the train cart unscathed by injury ran for safety. Your bounty had skill given their history with Hydra but that was it. They were of no match to bring you down. Didn’t mean they went lightly on you, quite the opposite in fact. But you can walk off bruises and torn flesh. They can’t walk off being dead. 

Civilians scream to the high heavens in their frenzy of fear, a coop of sitting hens incapable of flying away from danger. All they can do is scream and run in terror. The chorus of sirens flood the streets and traffic becomes a multitude of blocked channels with no direct or clear way through.

With guns holstered it leaves you as a mere blur in the crowd, police unable to pin you down. At least, not yet. You never remain the unsuspected figure in the background for long, it’s just a matter of time and how far you can make it before the law makes a beeline for you. But right now, you have to get the hell out of dodge and fast. How they managed to track you down, you don’t know, all you know is that once you get that paycheck you’re out of here. 

And that record hits a new score of just nine minutes and forty-three seconds when the first man hiding behind a badge orders you to stop in your tracks. When the threat of his fire aims at your back you return fire. Only you don’t afford him the luxury of a threat. Your quick draw is too fast for him to fully grasp the bullet wound now embedded in his chest, his partner catches his crashing weight before it drops to the pavement. 

Innocent bystanders shriek in their response to the shock of such horrors. An officer of the law that protects them downed without so much as a sweat off your brow. And as much as you would love to entertain the silly men and women in their uniforms and act as if their bullets affect you on some greater level, you have other places to be and a reward to cash in on. 

Like a phantom you’re gone in an instant once you get off the main street and cut through a few of the neighbouring alleyways. Police communicate the loss of suspect and begin to pull aside civilians to ask them about what occurred down in the subway. 

Wanda makes it to the top of the subway stairs, green eyes scanning the panicked faces and whatever damage that followed the attack topside. Was this Hydra’s doing? Surely it had to be. Known for their devastation on the public without remorse, this could only be that. An attack by Hydra, gunning right for the Avengers and the innocents they swore to protect.

“Wanda,” a voice calls across the way and Natasha is quick to join her side. “Did you see what happened?”

“No. I only just got up here. I wasn’t able to board the train in time.” The two women search the sight before them. They cannot find what - or who - they're looking for. This bodes ill for the Avengers. Once again they feel trapped in the dark without a clue of light to illuminate them on the path. 

They’re blind to the face of their enemy. 

“What do we do, Nat?”

The woman next to her only sighs and shakes her head. Uncertain herself. She makes eye contact with America’s blue eyed hero who currently questions the police to no avail. He shakes his head at her. “I don’t know. All I do know is that someone cried wolf.”

The wounds didn’t carry infection which is a plus for you. Treating infected wounds proved to be a great bitch. Fuck that ex-Hydra experiment or wolf soldier, whatever they called themselves back in their service to the secret rogue division. You apply a large dose of alcohol to the wound across your toned stomach, skin and cloth bleached with the auburn coloured liquid. 

“Son of a bitch…” 

The TV catches your attention. It’s volume set to low to keep from interfering with your pounding headache. But the news crew - one amongst many reporting tonight - were talking about today’s incident. 

The remote is swept up from its place on the coffee table and you raise the volume by a few increments. The woman’s voice on TV now a tad bit louder for you to really listen to her report. 

“That’s right, Vivian, behind me the police continue their search for their prime suspect that they believe to be involved in the subway attack that took place in the Second Avenue Line, here in the borough of Manhattan.” 

You huff with a roll of your eyes, focus back to applying pressure to the wound and cleaning it with the sting of alcohol. As if the news actually knew the story. They had outsider knowledge. A miniscule understanding - no, you wouldn’t even call it understanding. The humans knew nothing of the danger they were potentially in with an ex-Hydra specimen on the loose. Fuck the sob story and the going-straight path your bounty was going for, they were likely responsible of crimes just as horrendous as you. 

You did New York a favour once again.

“Witnesses describe a shootout aboard the train at approximately 10:30 AM that progressed into a brawl between the two assailants. Although terrified, civilians who were there recount they saw what they can only describe to be ‘werewolves’. Police have yet to uncover the second person involved but key descriptions describe the first suspect, who was also witnessed shooting and killing a police officer, yet they are also to be apprehended. Both image and video footage has been posted all over social media but investigators scrape the evidence and this is what they found.”

You lift your eyes to watch this so-called evidence that New Yorkers managed to capture. So much for running for their lives, the views apparently are more important. And there it was, one of the credited sources of footage capturing two hulking masses of fur duking it out in the streets. The fight is of no small degree, of that you can be well assured. People got hurt in the process. Rammed into the side of a car, you suddenly grapple hold of your target and swing them at full force across the street and they crash into a street light that bursts with electricity. 

And still they paint you as the criminal at the end of the day. It’s easier to point the finger and move on. You didn’t have enough time to really care about the tainted reputation you carry. It’s all you’ve ever known. No point in trying to go straight for you. The straightest you’ve ever gone is to get away from Hydra when they fell apart. But Hydra always had a way of getting their hands back on what was theirs, one way or another. However, you understood that you are a constant risk to the public. A danger. In your right opinion, all werewolves were.

You gather the length of bandages in your hands and prepare to wrap your wound when they address you on TV. 

“It’s speculated that this is the work of the Convict Wolf. After five years of no known presence, they have resurfaced with this attack. Truly a ghost that resumes its haunting.”

Ah, there it is. The recognition. The staple of your criminal career. A name to the face.

“The community is in an uproar over this revelation. Chief, what can you say to address these allegations related to this criminal?” The reporter holds her microphone to the mouth of the police chief. He stands tall, a bushy moustache and a stone-cold glare in his dark, worn eyes. 

“This convict has been nothing but trouble for the past few decades,” he begins, clearly he’s under some obligation to choose his words carefully. The entire world isn’t exactly ready to commit to the idea that werewolves were among the flock of sheep. 

“And they have proven to be tricky to catch but mark my words, New York, they will be brought to justice. The Convict Wolf will not escape us forever and once they have been convicted of their crimes in the court of law, they will be punished like the dog they are.”

‘Aw, that’s inspiring.’

The law truly believes they can catch and hold you long enough to deal out your long overdue punishment. The witch hunt for your hide continues on even to this day in the modern times of New York. Some things never change. 

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟖 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤

These hunts were never going to change. That much you knew by now. If only you were sorry for what you were about to do. But there was no mercy in this world for the bounty. You tried to be nice about it but the bastard wasn’t making it easy. You’ve run out of patience. Getting tossed from one corner of the warehouse to the other like some ragdoll. 

That isn’t going to fly with you. You stumble onto your two feet after being tossed some fourteen feet, give or take, and from the rafters above. Dust from the unswept, greyed out and rock solid tiles is kicked up into clouds, wafting higher up in a disturbed state. 

The roof above is worse for wear, half of the tiling broken and missing only to leave a bare frame of wood. The light of the moon gives you a spotlight to work with despite your ability to see perfectly in the dark. 

He’s perched high above, weight causing the beam he’s on to creak and groan with the threat to cave beneath him. He merely stares down at you as if you were something to be pitied. You don’t like that. You don’t like people looking at you with such an emotion. It twisted your gut in awful ways. 

“Come on then!” you bark in your challenge, the metallic tinge of blood coating your tongue. You spit the heavy taste to the side. He meets your challenge and that was his last mistake. You shake your coat off just before the transformation has a change to rip the precious artefact of clothing you own. Your now longer and clawed limbs grab hold of his pouncing form before he has a chance to pin you down. Your long digits snap his jaws shut and you hoist yourself up to your hind legs, spinning him until his back faces you. It’s sort of poetic in a way. 

For an appearance so savage and animalistic, you also retain a certain level of humanity in this form that it’s unnerving. Terrifying. Uncanny. 

Your arms slide along his until you’ve got him at the join of his built elbows and one of your hind paws kicks him forward. He goes chest first into the protruding rod half broken on the rusted machine that once powered the now abandoned factory. It still serves some purpose after its intended use now scraped. 

When his chest is penetrated is when you twist his limbs, pulling them as far back as you can. The crack of bone and tendons twisting, tearing under the mass of pressure you apply so easily. 

He howls in pain until all of New York can hear him. A flutter of bird wings being chased off by the agonised howl echoes throughout the warehouse. Your head extends forward and your teeth sink into the nape of his neck and you cleanly snap the column in half just as you tear his arms from his torso and you give another shove into his back with your hind paw. 

He goes still and his body weight slumps forward with a final sigh. You let his body drop against the rusty pole. The air is finally silent and you have a moment to yourself. No hunt, no law, no bullshit. Soon his body would change back, it was most common for the body to do so but there was the odd case where the identity of the body remained as just an animal. 

That’s what your species was a whole. Animals. 

“The noise came from here, Chief.”

“Halt right there– What in God’s name…”

The chief of police and his subordinates march into the warehouse, gas lit lanterns swinging haphazardly with their rushed movements to see to the noise complaint. All they saw in front of them were two animals. One dead and one alive. Alive and dangerous. 

The large shape of your canid head slowly turns to the officers, eyes a powerful red to combat the light of their lanterns. They don’t give a single thought to the potential identity of a human beneath the reflective surface of your savage eyes and bared snarl. 

They just see a mindless and bloodthirsty beast. “Shoot it! Kill it!” 

You take no guilt for your conscience. They provoked you. There is no mercy for their actions. You weren’t sorry for doing what you did. 

Leaping at them and tearing through the men of the law, of the badge, that stood no chance against the haze of your brutality. Their blood smeared and painted the dirt and sides of the warehouse in large splatters. Limbs were torn from sockets and flesh and bone alike was minced between your bloody jaws. 

Monsters aren’t meant to feel anything for their quarry. That’s what the human race is to you. It’s how you perceive their weak, mortal bodies and primitive, closed off minds; as your prey. And only your prey. 

Your phone buzzes with an unknown caller ID and you’re dragged out from the ravine of memory lane. You’ve an inkling of who it might be calling you. You pick up and put the phone to your ear. “It’s done. Now about my money…”

“Of course. It’s been transferred right now…” The distorted voice of the caller drawls ominously and you cannot help the sliver of suspicion that crosses your mind. The fee you asked for up front was still mysteriously ‘locked’ until the remainder of the money was funnelled into your encrypted account. You can see the loading bar of the transfer happen in real time on your opened laptop screen. Fifteen percent. Twenty percent. 

“A hundred-fifty thousand, as promised.”

You scoff with eyes wide at the declared amount your client says was the agreed amount. “I thought I made myself clear it was two hundred-thousand.”

“We had to cut a few costs. Our revival of the project you serve isn’t cheap and we need that hush money.”

You scowl in response to this, brows furrowing hard until the deep bevel between them forms. 

How could you be so blind for even a second? It was so obvious. 

This was Hydra’s courtesy call to you. 

“If you believe to have seen this criminal, police urge you to call them right away, and to be warned that the convict is still at large and most definitely armed. Civilians are also warned to not travel alone or without means to protect themselves.”

Tony switches the display off and casts down the remote in his hands before using them to comb his hair back. His eyes are troubled by the revelation that a new criminal, a new source of trouble, is in their midst. He’s read the files - they all have - but for some reason you have always been able to give everyone the slip. 

“What in the actual hell went on out there?” Tony finally asks his team but none give an answer. Not right away. With a shrug of defeat he wanders over to the kitchen to fix himself a dose of something strong to combat his growing frustrations.

“We’re not sure, Tony,” Steve finally answers with a sideways glance, “the attack was so sudden and Wanda wasn’t able to track down the Hydra assassin.”

“I should have gone with her.” It’s Bucky who sighs and hangs his head back in his own defeat. “If I had been with Wanda, we could have stopped this. Hydra assassins can move around undetected, be unassuming until it’s too late to do anything.”

“It’s not your fault, Buck,” Steve says to assure his friend but Tony doesn’t let up. His lecture hall has only begun for his fellow Avengers. “So we have a Hydra resurgence group on our hands and now we have to worry about the Convict Wolf. When does this madness end, guys?”

“Tony,” Steve warns firmly, blue eyes landing on Wanda who sits quietly on the end of the couch. She’s been staring off into oblivion for the entirety of their sit down meeting. She’s unfocused in the world around her and trapped in the land of her own thoughts. 

Steve calls to her once, then twice, but she remains unshaken from her mind.  The sketch shown on the news was uncanny but it was the eyes that continue to spear so deeply into her mind, those eyes that burnt with rage. With hate. She could still feel the bothering heat of you against her skin and the growl of your tone perverted her ears and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

She saw you board the train. The exact same train.

And now they are gone. Vanished into thin air. Wanda feels as though the world shuts down around her. Like her organs are slowly giving in with each breath coming in and out slower than the last. She presses a hand to her ear out of habit, to speak into the coms long since discarded when the mission was called in. 

Wanda’s eyes scrunch closed and her chin wobbles slightly. Ever so slowly and painfully, that air grows tighter in her lungs until it can barely escape. She’s losing to this and it’s only been several hours. Where could they have gone?

She hopes to just hear their voice crackle over the coms that aren’t present in her ear any longer. Fuck, she hangs to hope like a life line. She just needs that confirmation that they’re ok. But she can’t hear their voice on the other end. There is no earpiece to bridge the gap of communication. 

Natasha is the first to approach Wanda in order to assure her. “Wanda. Breathe for me, ok?” Natasha begins to lead Wanda into the exercise of breathing but it helps little. Wanda abruptly stands to her feet. “I have to go.” 

Her form flees to the privacy of her room and Natasha decides it better to leave Wanda to grieve. She sighs heavily when her own eyes become coated in that warm sheen that blurs her vision. “We have to look for them. They’re out there and if we don’t find them, it will kill her.”

As the Avengers discuss their next course of action before Fury’s next - and importantly stated - briefing, Wanda takes hold of her phone. The lock screen is a sharp reminder that buries the knife only deeper into her heart. She’s growing desperate at this point, not even 24 hours later and she needs that voice of clarity. She clicks on the name at the top of her contact list. 

It goes straight to voicemail. 

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t get to your call. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” Beep!

“Hey… listen, uhm, I know you’re probably just hiding out somewhere and… I-I’m sorry if I sound worried I just– I can’t help but think you’re in danger. So please, when you hear this, c-call me back. Okay? Bye…”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

#gn reader #male reader #female reader #treehouse taglist #the dark demeter writing catalogue #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #werewolf reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #marvel #wanda maximoff x werewolf reader series #angst #werewolf #wanda maximoff

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump Collab Day 4 (& 22) — Obedience, “you weren’t meant to be there”

This one I wrote with two prompts in mind, and as I was going along I realized it also fits with the day 17 one as well (hostage situation) so three at once! I feel bad for Time, I’m always giving him a hard time in this au...

Warning for some injuries, some violence, and a gun that gets waved around in a threatening manner

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Time drove down the street with the windows down in his car, enjoying the cool air that blew inside and ruffled his hair. It was a lovely afternoon, and he was glad to not be wasting it in an office.

Some kind of maintenance for the building he worked in had forced Time out of his office, and with nothing better to do, he’d been allowed to take the rest of the day off. He was looking forward to being home alone with Malon for a bit before his sons returned from school, and was already relishing the quiet they’d get to enjoy.

...Assuming, of course, that there wasn’t anything else that required his attention in the meantime.

Time sighed. Ever since supers had been (somewhat reluctantly) legalized again, it seemed like the crime rate had doubled to try and make up for it. Every other day he was stopping a bank robbery, or mugging, or any number of random misdeeds. He was endlessly relieved they were all no longer classified as illegal, and they’d fought hard for it, but... it was starting to get exhausting.

As if on cue, the music from the radio was cut off, and a news anchor began spouting off a report of an in-progress museum robbery.

Disappointment washed over him, and Time sighed and changed lanes, turning away from home and towards the direction of the museum. Malon would have been listening to the radio as well, and she would know he would go to help.

So much for our quiet afternoon.

Putting aside his disappointment, Time turned up the radio to hear the details better, mentally forming a plan for when he got the Hyrule Museum of History. The robbers had gone to the wing where the gems and older artifacts were housed, and had apparently blockaded themselves inside. He couldn’t believe they were brash enough to attempt a theft in broad daylight, at the largest museum in town at that...

But then again, perhaps they want some publicity, Time thought with a snort. There were always criminals around trying to make themselves out as bigger then they were.

The woman on the radio continued with the details, and Time suddenly jerked his head down to stare at it as she repeated the name of the building.

A robbery at the Hyrule Museum of History.

The same museum where several of his children had a field trip scheduled for today.

Time breathed in sharply and stepped on the gas, navigating towards the museum with an increased urgency. Not all of the grades were scheduled to be there at the same time, but there was at least one group that was supposed to still be at the museum now, and three of his sons had been there today.

No, calm down, he berated himself, getting honked at as he narrowly made it through a light, you know they can all handle a crisis, they’ve proved that. And they might not even be there anymore.

It was completely possible that all of their classes had finished and had already gone back to the school, or that the school groups were on the opposite side of the building from where the robbers were. Or maybe his sons had been evacuated with everyone else and would be waiting outside when Time got there, wanting to help out.

Maybe.

Time reached the museum in record time, though the trip seemed to take forever. He ducked into an alley and changed into his gear at lightning speed, then ran for the building, sirens in his ears.

There was a whole crowd of people outside, confused kids and frightened adults, police and security guards trying to maintain order through the clamor. Time left the police to their business of corralling civilians— though he made sure to scan the crowd for three familiar heads, heart sinking when he didn’t find a single one— and went through a side door, out of way of the crowd.

The officer guarding the inside jumped at the sight of him, but quickly realized who he was, directing him to where the robbers had gone with a relieved look.

“We got a report that there’s some kids missing from a school group, Mr. Deity,” he warned before Time went on his way. “It’s possible they’re in the wing the robbers sealed off, but we haven’t been able to get inside to check yet.“

Time’s stomach clenched, but he nodded, and headed for the section that housed ancient jewelry.

The halls were eerily quiet apart from Time’s rapid bootsteps, normally crowded halls foreboding and empty. He didn’t go to the main doorway of the wing, knowing that’s what the robbers would expect, and also where the police would be focusing their efforts, and instead went for one of the smaller doors.

Sure enough there were no police there, only an entrance blocked off by a huge fallen statue of some kind. Time had no trouble moving it aside enough that he could get through, and began running again, his heart in his throat.

Please, please let them be outside, please—

It was even quieter in this section, and Time didn’t pass a soul as he ran past paintings and bones, ancient armor and swords displayed proudly on the walls. Yet the thieves must have hidden a lookout somewhere, for when Time turned the corner into the room housing the most rare pieces, they were waiting for him.

There were at least six of them visible, wearing dark clothing and masks that covered most of their faces. All were armed with guns, most pointed in Time’s direction, but one was pointing towards the group of kids huddled in the center of the room.

Legend right in the line of fire.

Panic and anger roared to life in Time’s chest, but he shoved them away, forcing himself to remain collected in front of the group of criminals. Showing weakness would do nothing but give them an advantage, and despite the fact that he wanted to do nothing but charge forward and get Legend out of there, he remained where he was.

Legend locked eyes with Time, and the relief in his gaze made Time’s hands threaten to shake.

“Hm, Fierce Deity,” the man pointing the gun at the kids said, levelly meeting his gaze. His mask seemed more sinister than the rest. “The report indicated that you were not the most likely hero to show up here today.”

“Let them go,” Time demanded, the other kids watching him in frightened hope. He recognized them as ones from Legend’s class, thankfully no more of his sons among them. “These kids were just here for a field trip, don’t mix them up in this.”

The man crept closer to Legend. “They will be fine if you allow us to leave with what we came for.”

“They’re just kids,” Time said, voice darkened with anger. The man looked at him in an almost bored way, then back down at Legend. “What is it you even came here to steal?”

“That’s our business,” the leader said with a smile in his voice. “Now drop your weapon, and they will be fine.”

Time breathed out, scanning the room again before returning his gaze to Legend. His son was too far for him to reach before anything happened, the other kids as well, and even if there was a remote chance he could get Legend out of the way, it was unlikely he could protect all of the hostages.

You should have been more stealthy coming in—

“D— Fierce Deity,” Legend said in a soft, urgent voice, and Time looked at his son with increasing desperation. “Don’t listen to him, just get everyone else out of here, I’ll be—”

The gun was pressed to Legend’s head, the click of it being cocked near deafening to Time’s ears.

“Put your weapon down, or he gets a bullet through the head,” the man said softly. One of the other kids whimpered. “Swiftly followed by the rest of them.”

Time looked between the man and Legend, seconds ticking by loudly in his head. It was a nightmare knowing he had the power to stop every thief in the room, but being unable to do a thing. He had to stop them, but he couldn’t do anything, not without risking Legend, or any of the other kids, not unless he—

Legend’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and Time exhaled as he bowed his head.

Then he dropped his weapon.

Legend gave him an agonized look as Time raised his hands in surrender, and though Time couldn’t see the man who was still holding the gun to his head’s face, he was sure he was smirking at them both.

Rage abruptly slammed into Time, more powerful then any of the emotions he’d been dealing with so far, and he gave the robber a look of pure hatred. How dare he mix these kids up in a stupid scheme that was doubtless just to make some money?

No lives were worth a couple of pretty rocks, no matter how rare.

“Get on your knees,” the man demanded next, a hint of glee in his voice, and Time grit his teeth and did as he said.

The other robbers jeered as he kneeled down, and closed their circle around him, one kicking at his legs to make him go down faster. A fist suddenly connected with his face, and Time flinched backwards, laughter ringing in his ears. Another blow hit him on the knee, pain bursting up his leg, and he forced himself not to react.

“You’re not going to fight back?” one of them mocked, making him gasp as he jabbed him in the stomach. “It’d be so easy, just one little punch!”

“Let them go and I’ll give you a fight,” Time growled, but the man with the gun shook his head.

“No, I’m enjoying myself too much. Leaving can wait, the Fierce Deity at our mercy is too good of an opportunity to pass up on,” he chuckled. “Rough him up boys, this could be our break into the big time if word gets out.”

Time barely had time to brace himself before the blows began to rain down, all of the robbers eager to swing a punch or two his way.

Now part of Time’s powers was increased durability, his body able to handle much more strain and abuse than any normal person. But he wasn’t invincible in any sense of the word, and the robbers all had extremely hard boots and gloves, and a few had weapons that slammed into and jabbed at sensitive points all over him.

And he didn’t dare fight back.

By the time they were finished knocking him around, Time had a split lip and bruised ribs, and he wasn’t confident his knee would hold his weight. But despite the pounding in his head and the sharp ache radiating up from his middle, Legend was still unharmed, and so were the other kids.

That was all that mattered.

Time breathed in and met Legend’s eyes for a second, his son’s blue gaze wide and equally angry and fearful as they looked at each other.

“You’ve had your fun,” Time said in a voice more hoarse then before. “Now do what you said, and let them go.”

The leader idly twirled his gun, the barrel no longer pressed to Legend’s head, but still much too close to it. “I don’t think so. I don’t want any funny business from you. They’ll come with us until we’re well on our way, and then they’ll be freed.”

The fire in Time’s stomach roared. “You said you’d let them go if I dropped my weapon.”

“Your own fault for trusting the word of a thief,” the leader shrugged, and Time nearly leapt at him then and there. “We’ll be on our way now. And if you decide to follow us before we’re gone, this little group here might just—”

Someone dropped from the ceiling and landed on top of the man.

He let out a shocked cry as he was thrown to the ground, and Time realized Wild had been the one to drop from above, fully in his costume, and Hyrule and Malon soon dropped down along with him.

Relief swept over Time at the sight of his wife and other two missing sons, both safe and sound. Despite the pain when he moved, he swung out at the nearest robber, who took his punch full on the chin and fell to the ground, immediately unconscious.

A gun went off somewhere, but the familiar sound of the bullet being stopped by Hyrule’s shield rang in Time’s ears. A shriek accompanied it, and Time saw his wife hustling the kids back and away from the fight.

“We got what we came for, let’s go!” the leader of the thieves shouted, having somehow wrestled himself away from Wild, and they all sprinted out into a hallway.

Wild’s face screwed up in anger and he bolted after them, Hyrule following close behind. Malon didn’t immediately follow though, pausing at Time’s side and putting a concerned hand on his face.

“Are you okay?” she breathed worriedly, running her thumb by his split lip. “I heard on the radio, I came as soon as I realized, but I had to find the boys first—”

“You need to get those kids out of here,” Time interrupted softly, clasping her hand for just a moment. Malon scanned over him, then nodded, her eyes worried behind her mask.

“You’re right. We can regroup in a bit,” she murmured, and Time pressed the briefest of kisses to her hand.

Malon quickly stood and went back to the group of kids, giving Legend only a short squeeze on the shoulder since she was in costume and wasn’t supposed to know him. She began ushering them out in a different direction than the bandits had gone, and Time watched them leave, relieved they were all fine.

Stumbling slowly to his feet as they trailed out of the room, Time winced as he put weight on his one leg. He’d certainly had worse, but unless Hyrule was willing to help him along, he’d probably need a doctor. Relaxing afternoon indeed.

Legend suddenly materialized at his side as he managed to stand, his face still pale from what had just happened, eyes wide as they looked him over.

Time didn’t hesitate to bundle him into a tight hug.

His ribs ached with the action but Time didn’t care, and he ignored the way his hand shook as he ran it through Legend’s hair. Legend hugged him back equally tight, and Time rested his head on top of his, relief threatening to send him to the ground again.

“Dad, I’m okay,” Legend said, his voice shaking a little.

“I know. I know you are,” Time breathed. He didn’t let go though, and neither did Legend, and Time ran another hand through his hair, still unable to get the image of Legend with a gun pressed to his temple out of his head.

If even one thing had gone differently...

Time silenced the thought before it could form, and gave Legend a squeeze.

“You shouldn’t have let them do that to you,” Legend said, his voice unusually quiet, and Time sighed, pulling back just a little.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” he replied, cupping a gentle hand around Legend’s chin. Legend swallowed and averted his gaze. “And I can handle a few punches. That’s nothing in comparison to what he would have done to you and the others.”

And I would endure it thousands of times if it ensured your safety.

“You still shouldn’t have,” Legend mumbled.

“But I did. And I’m okay,” Time reassured, ignoring every ache that protested the fact. “This wasn’t your fault, Legend.”

Legend only closed his eyes, and Time drew him near again, Legend’s hair brushing his chin.

“I’m okay,” Time reassured again, this time in a whisper. “We’re both okay.”

Legend gripped a little tighter at Time’s suit, Time’s hand running over his hair, and they stood there in silence for what felt like a long time before pulling back, and joining the fight with the others.

#this is after when the movies would take place but not too terribly long after #linkeduniverse #Incredibles au #lu time #lu legend #whump #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #day 4 #day 22 #day 17 #tw gun #tw injury #Incredibles au fic #writing from the floor

[maddheaven]

My Interpretation of Yandere Dick Grayson/Nightwing - also a ramble post, kinda.

It’s been awhile since I’ve found time to write something. I was gonna write a short ramble post about my version of Yandere Dick Grayson but I had work to do.

Otherwise here it is:

So most versions of Yandere Dick I’ve read of him being extremely dark and sadistic towards his darling. Personally, I think this portrayal of Yandere Dick is interesting, and a little fun to write, because you don’t have to follow his optimistic values and traits, and just go crazy with it. Over time though - and now that I finally found time to read some comics and stuff, getting my inspiration juices flowing - it kinda got old and overused for me. While I do like the take on it, there are some parts of it that I would do differently or change completely like him having a full-blown freak-out and accusing his darling of cheating, ya know, screaming, shouting, punching things and all. I also like the soft yandere version of Dick, and incorporate some parts of that as well based on the few that I've read.

So with some inspirations from headcanons, and a bit of daydreaming, here is what I came up with:

Even before his parents' death. Grayson felt this deep, subconscious need for normalcy; for some semblance of ordinary.

He grew up moving around a lot, being in a circus act and all, and therefore, never had a real home.

Dick wanted the white picket fence, he wanted the typical suburban house, and he dreamed of being married to the love of his life with a bunch of kids, and maybe, a pet or two running around.

When his parents died, the only affection he ever had was ripped away from him leaving a dark void in his heart.

Despite being adopted by Bruce, and getting acquainted in his new home, that empty spot in his chest never went away.

He went through a couple of partners, Kori and Barbara included, had a few heartbreaks, but that empty feeling stayed.

Something was missing, he wasn’t sure what it was.

He cared for his previous partners, stayed loyal to them the whole way, yet there wasn’t a ‘click.’

There are multiple ways he could’ve come across you.

Either you were a civilian he saved from danger as Nightwing, helping you out as an officer, or maybe you met during a walk out in Bludhaven or Gotham.

However he met you, there was an instant click.

There was something, something about you, that was different.

His obsession comes in waves.

First: He’s interested, and starts watching out for you - not to the point of stalking yet.

He'll try to strike up a conversation, start building some sort of friendship or acquaintance with you, anything to get to know you.

Second: Then that interest becomes intrigue, and now he’s following you wherever you go, wanting to learn more about you.

That need he felt for all of his life grows, and grows.

He can’t get you out of his head, he can’t stop thinking about you.

He could be taking on as many cases as a police officer, he could be fighting criminals in some alley.

Yet, no matter how hard he tries, his mind always wanders back to you.

It's conflicting for him; he knows he shouldn't be this obsessed with you yet.. nothing seems to get you off his mind!

But that all comes to a head, when he either sees you in danger or hanging around someone.

Then something snaps inside him.

He doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it at all - he hates it.

Dick can’t deny his feelings anymore.

He needs to protect you.

He needs to be there for you.

He needs you.

Then comes the third wave:

He's around you more, he's taking every chance he can to spend time with you.

Sometimes, it can come off as clingy. But if you're the kind who doesn't notice subtle cues very well (like me), then he may just come off as someone who wants to be your friend.

And given his charismatic, and almost up-beat attitude, it wouldn't be surprising if you thought that.

However, there are some things with Dick that seem.. off.

He becomes eerily silent when that one friend, who you haven't seen in months, is talking to you.

Sometimes he'll tug at your wrist, force a smile whilst trying to make some excuse that you guys are in a hurry.

And as you guys get to know each other more, he gets more 'touchy.' More than what would be considered as 'friendly.'

Swinging an arm around you, resting his chin on your head, and one time, he put an arm around your waist while you guys were walking around the park.

But if there ever is a situation where someone is getting handsy with you, friendly or not, he steps in.

Hates when people touch you, but doesn't have any problem when it's only him, of course.

The man is more touch-starved than Jason.

As your relationship grows closer - or rather, he believes you and him are growing closer - then his tolerance would start to go down.

As for meeting him for the first time, Dick comes across as extroverted and friendly!

Very much a people person, so it isn’t hard to warm up to him.

If you aren’t the social type however, then he may come off as abrasive.

If he notices your slight discomfort, then he’ll ease up a bit.

He doesn’t like it if he sees you tense up or show any signs of discomfort around him - leaves a strange ache in his chest.

Though, he’ll admit, sometimes he likes to tease you because he finds some of your reactions adorable.

Dick is also patient to an extent.

If he sees that you’re avoiding him or making it obvious you aren’t interested, he’ll either eliminate all competition.

Anyone he thinks is getting in the way of him and your relationship, or would have a hand in getting anyone to avoid you.

Dick will make sure he is all you have.

If it's him, he'll either try to ‘fix’ his behavior around you or talk it out with you.

If neither works then.. well.. he'll be tempted to just take you.

With all the general stuff aside, there is one thing that I want to get into which is his temper.

Most headcanons I read are Dick having full-blown freak-outs - shouting, yelling, punching, throwing things ect.

I don't think he would do that, if anything, I think it would be much worse:

Let's say he kidnaps you and you aren't cooperating at all.

No matter what he does, all he gets is insults, profanity thrown at him, struggling - the whole shabang.

His patience isn't one to be tested, so as soon as you start acting out his demeanor changes in a snap.

His eyebrows would furrow, the usual ‘picture-perfect’ smile drops, and those shining blue eyes go cold.

His voice would drop low, he'll get real close to your face.

If you're struggling, he'll grab your wrist and squeeze it hard.

Every word he says, he not only wants you to hear, but to listen, ingrain it into your head.

The sudden shift in the air is too obvious to ignore, and that low voice is just.. too terrifying to tune out.

There’s a threatening undertone; a warning.

It’s incredibly eerie and tense.

The man is capable of anything - he was raised by Batman for god sakes! - and if he kidnapped you, god knows what the hell he’ll do to you.

To sum it up, Dick can be the most affectionate, loving boyfriend/husband you could ever have or he can be your absolute worst nightmare...

#yandere dick grayson #Yandere Richard Grayson #yandere nightwing #Yandere ramble post #Yandere batman #yandere dc #Yandere dick grayson headcanons #yandere dc headcanons #yandere batman headcanons #yandere headcanons #yandere nightwing headcanons #gonna try and keep tags within the yandere section to avoid cross-tagging

[itstokkii]

I've been considering making this post for a while but hesitated since I don't wanna beat a dead horse.

I'd like you to look at this post looking back at the Andijan massacre. What started as people protesting issues like distribution of gas, electricity, and other human needs and rights ended in a bloodbath. A cousin of mine told me schools taught it as "the national guard protecting civilians from Islamist terrorists."

I'd also like you to look at this paper by the Human Rights Watch on the torture and persecution of Uzbek Muslims like me during Islam Karimov's 20 years of dictatorial rule. Even Uzbek Muslims outside of Uzbekistan weren't safe. Multiple family friends of mine were randomly tackled to the ground and arrested by Korean Police on accounts of "domestic terrorism" in Uzbekistan, and some were only released about 5 years ago.

You weren't allowed to wear hijabs(even in Islamic universities), openly pray, read the Quran, or do anything religious. Someone would always be there watching to report you.

I wasn't allowed to go outside by myself around my neighborhood due to Uzbek government agents kidnapping the children of Uzbek diaspora abroad. I wasn't allowed to wear a hijab until after we went to Uzbekistan 2 years after Karimov's regime ended, and we made sure it was safe there and back. I wasn't even allowed to visit the country to see my relatives for almost a decade because of the crackdown on Uzbek Muslims.

When Uzbekistan was colonized by Russia as the Uzbek SSR and even before then as Turkestan, Russia made sure to stamp out religion entirely. They killed off scholars and poets like Cholpon, who wrote about Uzbek self-determination and praised religious texts. Uzbekistan's first leadership since its independence carried on with this policy, with Russian colonial values ingrained into them.

As for Korea, our partition was opposed by the whole peninsula. When Jejuans protested the US-UN backed elections, it ended in 10% of Jeju's population being killed by joint US-Korean forces. Though the South Korean Government apologized for the first time recently, the US stays silent. What a surprise. The bodies of these Jejuans were buried in mass pits and had the Jeju Airport built on top of it.

The US still fails to apologize for the No Gun Ri Massacre, in which the US Army murdered about 300 Korean villagers despite knowing they were civilians and therefore not targets. The US also indiscriminately bombed North Korea with more bombs than they had in the Pacific Theater in World War 2, martyring almost 2 million Koreans.

After the Korean War followed almost 30 years of dictatorship by Syngman Rhee, then a military junta, then Park Chung Hee and Chun Doo Hwan. During this time, university students protesting the dictatorial rule established by the US were arrested as "anti communists," and be tortured repeatedly, sometimes even until death.

Though the Seodaemun Prison is known for being Japan's colonial prison where they arrested independence activists, the Korean dictatorships used it to arrest people in favor of democracy.

The Namyeong-Dong Anti-Communist Investigation Office was a similar prison, in which one of the floors had extremely thin, narrow windows to avoid prisoners from escaping. Park Jong Cheol, a Seoul National University student who was protesting against Korea's military dictatorship at the time, was incarcerated here and routinely tortured. He eventually died due to water torture.

The Gwangju Massacre was a protest held by many activists against Chun Doo Hwan's dictatorial rule, which came about as he staged a coup and successfully overthrew the previous government. As they called for democracy, Chun Doo Hwan brought the national army, who fired upon, killed, and raped the protesters. Chun Doo Hwan was never held responsible for his crimes before he died, and his grandson recently apologized to the victims and their loved ones. It was found that the US approved Chun Doo Hwan's plans to use armed forces on the protesters in Gwangju.

Though the Gwangju Massacre is taught about in Korea, much of the US involvement and responsibility of the horrors of the dictatorship is left out.

The US does not allow Korea to produce its own nuclear arsenal, allowing Korea to rely entirely on the US for nuclear support. Additionally, the existing presence of the USFK in Korea and their joint training sessions with the ROK army further provokes North Korea and therefore gives the US a "justification" to maintain its military presence in Korea.

Growing up I was taught where to look for nearby nuclear shelters. We visited the War Memorial of Korea multiple times, and air raid sirens are rare but are happening more often recently.

This, along with the added danger of living as Uzbek diaspora outside of Uzbekistan as Muslims.

So when I say "please respectfully depict Russia and the US when it comes to the Cold War in a way that does not center them entirely" and "please keep the gravity of their actions in mind as you write them; Hetalia does not exist in an apolitical vacuum,"

and I am met with "mature adults" telling me that "they're just characters," or

"i'm the one ruining the fandom," or

"block and move on," or

"i love russia and america cold war!!!" or

"you're crazy" or

"moralf*g" or

"someone's sensitive"

and especially from russian artists who call me an "American SJW." russians calling me an uzbek overly sensitive for asking that they portray their country a little more respectfully to the victims of their colonialism. yeah that's completely normal

you are normalizing centering discussions about the Cold War to the imperial core, and then having nothing of substance to say about and being absolutely insensitive towards someone who's life has been and still are dictated by these imperial forces, and even harrassing them.

where's the "block and move on" mentality you prided yourselves for?

this fandom hasn't changed since the 2010s. it's just more quiet in the way it marginalizes victims of colonialism.

oh, and that person who told me to "block and move on, sister!!!" when it comes to me explaining myself as an uzbek-korean muslim?

you're not one to talk. 네가 뭘아는데 ㅅㅂ새끼야

#hetalia fandom #vent #disk horse #i cant wait to have a barrage of insults thrown at me again ♥️ #you need to go get your brain chemistry checked i think #hetalia #for those of you who comforted me during this time thank you all so so much #my mental health severely declined that week #i'm so grateful to have you as friends