#There's a small group of thugs in Crime Alley

[sssailorvanya]

for once in my life, let me get what i want. [battinson]

please ignore my shit tenses | wc: 780(?)

You’ve never been one to ask for more beyond what you’re given. Your feet are always impossibly cold and your smile is missing from your face these days. Winter’s hard enough as it is. You didn’t know how to feel about the mysterious man dressed up as a bat, running around at night to fight crime.

You’ve heard what this mysterious vigilante does to the rogue criminals he catches. You’ve even witnessed his brutality a few times, thankfully never aimed at you. He saved you once. You were walking home, with your cold feet and blank expression, and a group of men had jumped out of a nearby alley. You had thought, ‘oh fuck, here we go again,’ and prepared to hand over your meagre possessions. You had not anticipated the fearsome vigilante materialising out of nowhere, throttling the living daylights out of all the men until they cowered in fear. You had watched, dumbfounded, as he picked up your small, bright pink purse and handed it to you.

You almost wanted him to keep it, if only for the comical juxtaposition.

So, no, you don’t know how to feel about him. Gratitude is a motivating factor but, nowadays, you barely feel anything at all. You certainly don’t feel anything when he takes your cold hand the second time you meet (another mugging foiled) and awkwardly massages it.

“For the circulation,” He growls softly.

You hum and let him massage your hand.

The citizens of Gotham call him “the Batman”, or simply “the Bat”. Sometimes they’ll call him “Vengeance” with a capital V, but nobody answers when you ask why.

You’re not native to Gotham, but you’re not from a city which was its polar opposite either. The gloomy weather and gothic architecture is a welcome reminder of the home you unwillingly left behind.

The third time you meet him, you feel braver than before. “You ever heard of the PJ Masks?” You ask softly, watching as he delivers a harsh blow to an unconscious thug (muggings are very common in Gotham, especially when they can sense that you’re not from here). He glances back at you, his lips pursed and his eyes smeared with dark eyeliner. You wish you could take off the cowl and see his full expression.

“I haven’t,” He says softly. His voice is jarring to listen to. You can tell he’s a man of few words so whenever he speaks, you are enthralled. You don’t know why. What sort of lunatic would be fascinated by a bat vigilante?

Lunatics like you.

“It’s a good show. Reminds me of you,” You say. Your lips don’t curl up in a smile but it’s a near thing. Your feet feel warmer today.

He’s a man who talks little, but he humours you anyway. “Must be good then.” You think you imagine the minute twitch of his lips as he turns away, his fearsome cape dripping with droplets of rain and blood. You watch him go.

Your hands are still cold.

The fourth time you encounter him makes you feel as if he’s started to keep tabs on you specifically. There’s no reason for the fearsome Bat to be lurking outside the 7/11 closest to your little apartment at 2am, but he is there. There’s no thievery to put an end to and no criminals for him to terrify. There is just you and the bright lights of the 7/11 and the jalapeños-and-cheese baked concoction in your hands. Your eyes are glimmering in the artificial light as you break off a piece.

You offer it to him, a small smile playing on your lips. He takes it from you slowly, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt you. Your feet are cosy and warm tonight. He doesn’t smile back but he does stand next to you all night. Gotham is quiet tonight. It’s a blessing in disguise for you both.

The last time you meet him, you are hurting all over. There is blood sliding down your face and your vision is blurred, but you know it’s him when someone takes your hand. He rubs your hand soothingly.

“For the… circulation… right?” You croak out. It’s hard to talk with chapped lips and broken teeth.

He doesn’t respond. His grip on your hand tightens.

Some upcoming villain in Gotham decided to launch a nefarious attack in the city centre. You were caught in the crossfire, as were many other civilians. But it’s you whom he chooses to comfort, and it’s you whom he clings onto as you fade away.

Your hand goes limp in his grasp. It’s cold.

But there’s a smile on your face and your feet are warm.

#battinson #battinson x reader #battinson x you #the batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #gender neutral reader #batman #dc comics #angst #deftones #batman x reader #dc x reader #batman x you #dc x you #tumblr please don’t make me use y/n thanks #shit what else do i put now #please please please let me get what I want #mood #happy reading??? #not beta read not edited not anything just raw form

[cainware]

Drums Of The City Rain

A simple, short little oneshot about Jason needing Dick to come pick him up during a panic attack that got way too far out of hand (as all my writing does)

Pairing: Gen

Character(s): Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: mental health, vague depictions of PTSD, mention of Jason’s death, panic attacks, brother’s should be there for each other, mental breakdowns, jason should probably go to therapy but so should the rest of the batfam, good sibling dick grayson

(I might make another chapter to this? I don’t know though. My writing is so rusty and this is probably super ooc but its self-indulgent so I make no excuses (also if you see any typos, no you didn’t). Title based on Brother//Gerard Way. I know @nightmareinfloral and @iinmysights asked me to tag them if I ever posted it though, so it’s here guys! I hope its a good read <3)

Gotham City was home to a plethora of the worst, most vile things a person could imagine. Super villains, super criminals, and more murderers than you could fill Blackgate and all her sister prisons with. Thugs walked the streets freely, drug runners and crime bosses racked up cash in a vain attempt to escape the beast that was poverty before their unceremonious fall from power. Sex workers struggled to make ends meet, and abusers got away with about as much as a slap on the wrist, if even that much.

The GCPD weren't much better. Half of them were corrupt, the other half powerless to stop it or too apathetic to care about it in the first place. Most of the citizens were complicit in turning a blind eye to these happenings, either wealthy enough to afford the security they needed or delusional enough to pretend they were safe from that lifestyle. But everyone knew Gotham City and safety had always been mutually-exclusive terms, and nobody knew that more than Jason Todd.

Jason knew each of these groups well. He grew up here; he'd been born and bred in the filthy underbelly of this beast, raised in the pit of despair itself and brought out of it at fourteen by a hand that, admittedly, could have tossed him in juvenile detention for stealing tires. But it hadn't, and instead, he'd gotten the chance to become something more.

Being Robin had been a gift and a curse. On one hand, Jason finally felt hope, and had the privilege of passing that hope on to others like a small beacon. And if there was one thing Gotham, and it’s supposed “protector”, Batman, needed, it was hope. 

But on the other, it painted a giant, traffic light-colored target on his back. A target that, admittedly, had a hand in leaving him where he was now; a crumpled mess behind a dumpster in some random alleyway in Gotham's underbelly yet again, hands trembling as he stared vacantly at the empty darkness in front of him that ended in another brick wall.

The dark alleys of Gotham were home, in a sense. Plenty of small, cramped spaces to make a normal person feel like the city itself was swallowing them whole. But for Jason, it meant security. It was a place to hide, even if he couldn’t fit in the same cracks and crevices that he used to. And right now, hiding from anything and everything was all he could think to do.

He wasn't hurt, at least not physically. But mentally, Jason felt paralyzed, his body having locked up immediately as he found solace between an abandoned building and one of the run-down, closed stores on this end of town. His mind was running a million miles a minute with none of its destinations ending well, like a hijacked freight train barreling towards an endless drop. Jason felt like the world was ending, like his entire body was shutting down one function at a time. The beast that was Gotham, and all her perverse ways, had found a way to trigger the tangled knot of fear wound up tightly in the pit of Jason’s stomach, and now it had become a fight for survival against his own mind once again.

Jason could feel his blood pulsing in his ears, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't breathe anymore, his lungs feeling as if they'd been cut off entirely, and the mask on his face wasn't making it any easier. But try as he might, his hands wouldn't move. His fingers twitched, but it was as if he lacked the strength to move his arms at all. If he could just get the mask off, just undo that single latch holding this glorified muzzle on, maybe he'd feel better. Maybe then, air would fill his lungs again. But instead he sat immobile, eyes stinging as visions of the past flashed rapidly behind his eyes beneath those bright red lenses.

The Joker laughing wasn’t as bad as it usually was, but that’s where he lost what little composure against the fear he had. He was powerless against the bomb, the ticking of a clock painfully loud in his ears. He could hear it, the laughter and the ticking, hand-in-hand like a dynamic little sideshow. It sounded as if it were right beside him again, but the rational part of him knew it was just the clock tower in the distance, maybe a couple or a group of friends laughing together, trying to find some good in this hell-scape of a city. 

But he could smell the smoke, could see the burning reds and oranges in the corners of his eyes, could see the blinding lights when he blinked, and it send him back to a time he had long tried to heal from. But again, the rational part of his brain tried to reason it out in a desperate attempt to keep his calm. Maybe one of the local homeless with their barrel fires, maybe he was just seeing things. He’d believe anything, at that point; because that had to be it, it couldn't be the bomb. He’d been there when it went off, he would know. It was gone, just like the scared little beacon of hope he’d been once.

Jason bit down on his tongue, willing himself to focus on what he could feel. He’d been to therapy before, and he’d had plenty of time to practice those shitty little techniques people came up with over the years to manage anxiety. As they each failed, one sense after the other, he realized this had already gone too far. He had to do something, had to move or... call someone. He couldn’t do this alone, not this time. 

He hit the comms unit in his ear, praying to whatever could hear him that he'd get a response. It pinged, once, twice. Jason’s prayers got louder, more desperate as he sat there in the alleyway, his fingers curling into the fabric of his pants leg as his body threatened to curl in on itself completely. He whispered a plea, but it came out as nothing more than a strained whimper.

But who could he even call? He wasn’t supposed to be in Gotham at all, not yet, not until he was ready to be return permanently on his own terms, playing the good boy with Bruce’s stupid rules. If any of the family were to find out, he worried what they’d say, what they’d think of him being back now after so many months of being off-radar. One by one, their names rattled off in his mind, but none of them felt like safety. Not a single name felt like love, or family, or hope.

 "Jason?" Maybe there was a God. He doubted it, but maybe he could use a little faith right now. A little hope would go a long way when you felt like you were plummeting like a rocket towards rock bottom all over again.

"Dick?" He managed, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. It cracked, strained against his throat that felt too tight to breathe. He hated how he sounded, like a pathetic, scared little kid. But in reality, that’s exactly what he was. Gradually the words bubbled up slowly, and even though it hurt to speak, Jason forced them out. "I... I need help, man."

"Jason. Where are you?" Dick's voice barely reached Jason despite the communicator sitting in his ear, and Jason squeezed his eyes closed as he fought through the wave of nausea that came with the building panic in his chest. He tried to visualize something, anything that would make this easier. He came up empty-handed. But Jason had to give him an answer, and with a little bit of fight, he managed to choke out a reply.

"Back alley... I-I think I'm by the clock tower? Maybe? I-I don't know..." He murmured, his hands shaking as he lifted them to his face and laid his head down in them. He pressed the heels of his palms against the mask, curling his fingers around the edges, but finding he lacked the strength to pull it off. A faint sob passed his lips, pure frustration at his sense of helplessness making his emotions run even higher. “I can... I can hear it ticking, or... or something, at least.”

"Jason, stay with me, littlewing. I'm on my way, okay? I'm gonna have Oracle-"

"No! God, no... don't-" Jason replied quickly, his heart hammering in his chest as he thought about the rest of the family seeing him like this. It made his chest squeeze around his heart, forcing the air he’d fought so hard to get back out and leaving him back at square-one.

He could imagine their hesitant glances, the poorly hidden side-eyes, the uncertain shifting of their feet. They didn't trust him as far as they could throw him, and the half that did would look at him with those sickeningly pitying eyes that he hated more than anything; those eyes that you'd offer a wounded dog that you knew you'd have to put down. It made his stomach turn to think about it, adding to the sick feeling washing over him. He’d give anything to make it stop.

"Please, Dick don't... don't tell anyone else." He didn't want it. He couldn't handle their judgement, couldn't handle them seeing him so fragile, so weak. Even if they understood, which he highly doubted they would, seeing them look down at him more than they already did would just be too much. God forbid he be subjected to that again, to the eventual surrender he’d be forced into to accept their help. Jason had learned a long time ago that some things were best kept at arms length, and most of their little freak-show's conditional love was one of them.

Silence met his pleas, but Jason knew what Dick was doing. He was weighing his options, looking at things from every angle and from Jason's perspective. Dick was the only person that would understand, the only person that knew what it was like to be pitied and to want nothing of it. Dick had once left the family, too, and for all Jason knew, he hadn’t rejoined it fully either, because rejoining the family meant giving up your independence, it meant following someone else’s rules and taking their orders. Or, in Jason’s case, masking everything you were, and everyone you are, for the sake of keeping others comfortable.

"Okay, Jay. I won't tell them." Finally, as if underwater, Dick's reply came in a soft, slow tone. Relief, for the first time since this breakdown had begun, lessened the weight on Jason's chest. He slumped back against the wall behind him, focusing on the sounds of Dick moving on the other line as his eyes stayed closed.

"Talk to me, Jason.” Dick said, and Jason could hear the dull thrum of an engine roaring behind Dick’s voice. Vaguely, Jason thought about how ridiculous it must be that he’d called someone all the way in Blüdhaven to come and pick him up in the ass-end of Gotham, and how under normal means, he’d think it was pretty comical that Dick was likely hauling ass to get to him. “Can you tell me how you feel right now?”

Jason thought about it for a moment, willing the shadows in the corners of his mind away as best he could in his current state. He settled against the wall behind him, leaning his head back as he took deep, slow breaths. Overhead, the night sky looked even cloudier than it had before, even tinted through Jason's red lenses. It would rain soon; the thought of a storm made Jason’s bones ache, and though it wasn’t pleasant, it gave him something else to focus on.

"I'm... fuck, Dick, I'm scared..." Jason said, the harsh reality of the situation settling in the pit of his stomach like a rock. The dull rumbling of thunder overhead punctuated his statement, and he let out a quiet sigh as he tried to articulate just why he was so afraid.  "I keep seeing things... and smelling the smoke and..."

"So you're having an episode, littlewing?" Dick asked, voice strangely soothing in the midst of the chaos inside Jason’s own head. Jason nodded slowly, as if Dick could see him, and hummed a faint reply when he realized he wasn't visible to the other man yet. "You have PTSD, Jay. Things like this happen, it’s all part of living with it. But I'm glad you called me, I know that must’ve been a blow to your ego.”

Jason actually managed something akin to a laugh, and he could feel Dick smiling on the other end of the line. As quickly as that brief moment of joy came, it was gone, and Jason was left staring up at the sky as the rain started.

“Are you somewhere safe in the alley? Not out in the open where God and everybody can see you?”  The question took a moment to process, and Dick let him answer in his own time. Finally, it actually registered that Dick had spoken to him, and Jason thought about it before he spoke, rain coming down slowly and drenching the hood protecting his head. Through his mask, he watched the water run down the wall opposite him, focusing more on his breathing than keeping his voice even.

“Yeah. Er... maybe? I’m... I’m gonna be honest, Dick, I’m hiding behind a fuckin’ dumpster.” Jason replied, laughing as he allowed his head to drop. He felt tired, his panic having driven him to the brink of exhaustion. "I can't... it feels like I don't have any strength left, Dick." 

“That's okay, Jason. We'll handle it when I get there, okay? I'm cutting through the fashion district now, just give me a few more minutes." Dick replied, and as he spoke, Jason could hear the rumble of the engine from two different sources. The motorcycle had a quiet setting, just like every other gadget in this godforsaken family, but he knew what Dick was doing. He was using it as a reassurance device, a way to relieve some of Jason’s stress from a distance. Dick knew that if Jason could hear him, it would make him feel a little more secure, even if he couldn’t see him yet. He’d have to thank him for that later, somehow. 

“Hey, Dick?” Jason muttered, slowly lifting his head and watching as the faint glow of a single headlight broke through the gray monotony of the curtain of rain. The engine was getting louder, and Jason closed his eyes as the light got brighter, closer. “I’m sorry I called you all the way out here for something like this.” 

“Shut up, Jason. You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t care.” Dick sighed, and gradually, he felt the ground rumbling under him. Dick had pulled into the alleyway, slowly coming to a stop. Jason opened his eyes to watch his older brother dismount the bike, leaving the motor running as he held a hand over his eye to shield his vision from the rain. He rounded the dumpster completely, and Jason watched as he paused to look down at him. 

In normal circumstances, Jason would poke fun at him for how he looked right now. Dick was still half-costumed from his nightly patrol, and now half-drowned from driving in the rain, his hair sticking to his face at weird angles. An old, now soaked Beatles T-shirt offered a stark contrast to the armored black pants he wore in his Nightwing uniform, serving to make him look like the vigilante equivalent to being caught with your pants down. But this wasn't any normal case, and Jason was just glad to see him after thirty minutes of silent suffering. 

As if completely involuntary, Jason’s shoulders began to tremble. He felt like he was watching the entire scene from outside his own body, the cold seeping into his flesh beneath his uniform as his eyes burned with tears behind the mask. Something about finally seeing Dick in person, at seeing someone that genuinely cared enough about him to drive thirty minutes in the rain to help him, had finally broken the thin composure Jason had forced himself to maintain. And god, the dam had finally splintered. 

As soon as Dick knelt down beside him, a hand that didn’t hesitate for a second to release the clasp of Jason’s mask and gently pull it away, there was no going back. Jason began to sob, inconsolable as he felt, vaguely, when Dick pulled him closer into his arms. For the first time since the start of his episode, Jason was finally able to breathe, as if he’d been freed from a trap of his own making. 

"Hey, hey. I'm here, you're good." Dick whispered, voice barely audible above the rain that had steadily picked up. Jason leaned against Dick, his hands finding the strength to grip into Dick’s wet T-shirt as he tried to ground himself with something, anything. “I’ve got you, littlewing. I’ve got you.” 

Dick wrapped his arms around Jason, quietly rubbing circles along his brother’s back. Jason had spent so long curled up in a ball behind the dumpster that, by the time Dick managed to slowly coax him up and onto his feet, Jason stumbled. But instead of falling, like he had expected, Jason found Dick standing firm, an arm around his waist to steady him. He followed Dick’s lead, blindly trusting his older brother who held his mask in one hand and steadied the bike for Jason to climb on with the other. 

“Alright, hold on to me. I’m taking you with me back to Bludhaven, okay? Maybe the ride will help calm you down a little.” Dick said, and Jason nodded slowly, his sobs having subsided to faint sniffles and tired, puffy red eyes. Dick mounted the bike, waiting for Jason to latch onto him. It was almost funny, having such a brick wall of a man holding onto him, but Dick didn’t have the stomach for humor right now. Instead, he took off, peeling out of the alleyway with Jason holding onto him like a lifeline. 

Jason would agree, in that moment, that Dick was just that. A lifeline, something he could count on. He was the only person Jason could think of that brought him that sense of safety, of being protected, even though Jason knew quite a few people that should fit that profile better. But as Jason had learned, people tended to view size and strength differently when it came to vulnerability. If you were built like a wall, they assumed it would take a lot more to make you crumble. But Dick understood, in a sense, that even the toughest walls had their weak points. He’d seen plenty of men, women, and everything in between topple in his time by having a weak foundation.

As he floored the motorcyle, with Jason tucked against his back like a frightened, lonely little kid, Dick knew Jason needed a strong foundation more now than he ever had. As the rain pelted the two of them, Dick made a choice, against whatever odds that might pit themselves against him, he would be that foundation, even if it killed him, because that’s what a brother does.

#jay actually wrote a thing oh my god #fanfic #i hope yall enjoy this because ive been writing on it all day lmao this wip is finally out of the folder and i can move on to something else #please be nice i havent written for the batfam in?? checks notes literally years #also theres so much conflicting information on just where bludhaven is in relation to gotham #so for the sake of this making sense just suspend whatever your person belief on location is #because i tried researching it and that Did Not Help #dick grayson #jason todd #cainscontent

[ataviisms]

reeves verse info

waylon killed and cannibalized his aunt when he was 17 years old as the result of a particularly heated episode of drunken abuse. realizing what he'd done, waylon immediately ran away from home and eventually joined up with a freak show in baton rouge. he spent a total of three years touring the south with said freak show.

the group was performing in new orleans when a police officer recognized waylon and called in a warrant for his arrest. waylon was subsequently captured and tried for his aunt's death. after detailing the history of his abuse, which was corroborated by a few neighbors, as well as the fact that he was a minor at the time, he was convicted of felony manslaughter rather than second degree murder.

waylon was sentenced to ten years in the state penitentiary, during which time he formed tenuous connections with a few other inmates who were part of the mob in tampa. one of these inmates attempted to murder waylon shortly after the start of his sentence; however waylon fought back and killed him. it was also during this time that waylon was beginning to undergo radical physiological changes as part of his mutation. he was eventually transferred to the eastern louisiana mental health system when the penitentiary no longer knew what to do with an inmate who was rapidly becoming something other than human.

he served out the remainder of his sentence in solitary confinement in the hospital before being paroled by the state. he made his first report to his parole officer and then immediately disappeared, making his way north. he arrived in gotham two years before the flooding.

his crimes started off small; mostly as hired muscle for small-time mobsters in crime alley. he always made himself scarce whenever the people he worked for got caught. but he wanted more. so waylon kept biding his time, making connections, getting to know the city.

then riddler showed up and started killing people. carmine falcone got what was coming to him and gotham's criminal underworld was left scrambling. the seawall came down; the city flooded. waylon took advantage of the chaos and the flooding and claimed part of the city for himself. everything underwater was part of his domain. anyone still living or stranded in the flood zone was his to terrorize. he started calling himself "king croc," a play on his old freak show stage name, but the media just kept calling him "killer" after a few of penguin's thugs washed up torn to pieces and some members of the national guard had close calls with something scaly when they entered part of the flood zone.

that's when batman got involved. that's when waylon's power grab got shut down. he'd only done it because he was angry. he'd only done it because he was bitter. he'd only done it because he'd spent almost a decade locked up in a hospital with too many inmates and not enough beds. he'd only done it because he thought it was the only way people would give him some kind of respect, even if they were afraid.

then they put him in blackgate. solitary confinement. no interaction with other prisoners. he was transferred to arkham at batman's behest; something about believing that he could redeem himself. that he wasn't the criminal he wanted the world to think he was.

it's still not much better.

#i know when i started this blog i said i was taking a lot of influence from t/he b/atman #but i also wanted to amalgamate my own headcanons and waylon's og comic lore so this feels like a good blend #V. WHO GONNA PRAY FOR ME?

[dramatisperscnae]

Clint’s been off on a mission in Peru for the past two weeks, but he did his damnedest to get back in time for Dick’s birthday. Pulled a few strings, cashed in a few favours, and went straight from SHIELD medical (with some new bruises and bandages to show for it), to a bakery that was miraculously still open, to searching for Dick, after finding his apartment empty. Unsurprising, given his boyfriend’s nighttime extracurriculars. He finds Dick about ten minutes to midnight—ten minutes to spare—in a grungy alley beating up some thugs.

With a cupcake held carefully in one hand, he reaches down to grab a handful of gravel off of the roof he’s stood upon. It’s only once Dick’s finished up with the goons that Clint throws a little rock at him. Then another. Then one more, for good measure, just to make sure Dick sees him. And then he’s grinning down at the man, holding the cupcake up for him to see. He’ll wish him a happy birthday once Dick joins him on the roof, rather than call it out for everyone and their grandmother to hear.

[It's Dickie's Birthday!]

Crime doesn't exactly take nights off, therefore neither do crime fighters. Honestly, as much as Dick is vaguely aware that it's his birthday he hasn't really thought much about it. There have been phone calls from friends, a card or two, but his birthday hasn't been that big a deal in years. Not since before his parents died. So he's spending his birthday evening cleaning up the streets of Bludhaven a little. This particular group thought they'd knock over a jewelry shop before Nightwing showed up to spoil their fun.

Once the fight is over and the would-be thieves restrained and waiting for Bludhaven's finest to finally show up, Dick takes a moment to admire his handiwork before something hits him on the head. "What the…" And then it happens again. Something small and hard, like a pebble, bouncing off the back of his head. The third one actually bounces off his forehead, given he's turned around and looked up to see what the hell is going on.

And then he's off the ground entirely, leaping from pavement to fire escape to wall to support beam to fire escape to rooftop in a series of acrobatics that leave him with just enough momentum left to wind up almost perfectly in Clint's arms, leaning up for an eager kiss; the cupcake barely gets noticed, though Dick is at least careful not to squash it or make Clint drop it. "I thought you were in Peru! When did you get back?!"

#Communication #normaltothemax #dick ic #dick verse: gone solo #nighthawk: head in the clouds #[hi clint he missed you]

[aithorin]

An Exception to the Rule - All Smite x Reader (18+)

Summary: Now All Smite was by no means a hero. In fact, he was quite literally the opposite, but for you he might be willing to make an exception. 

Warnings: Mentions/threats of rape (nothing actually happens), Villain Au, Villain!All Might, Blood and violence, Threats of violence, Slight gore, hostage, Protective!All Might (i.e. he basically goes on a rampage cause someone tries to hurt you), Soft ending with hurt/comfort

Rated M for violence

Flying through the city, a smirk made its way onto All Might’s face as he heard a scream echo throughout the night. God, he reveled in the chaos. The chaos that he created. His very presence had allowed the chaos in Japan to fester and grow throughout, and thus every time he heard crimes being committed, his chest swelled with pride. It made his ego surge to watch the fruit of his efforts be harvested and taken advantage of. There was just something so immensely satisfying about it, knowing that every villain in Japan owed the success of their crimes to him. It provided a rush of gratifying adrenaline like no other.

Deciding he had a few minutes to spare, All Might quickly set course towards the sound of the disruption. At the very least, it would provide some entertainment. But, depending on what they were doing to the unfortunate soul, he might even decide to join in. It would be a nice way to unwind before going home to you. God knows how much fun he had seeing the way people cowered at the very sight of him.

Landing silently behind the group, he quietly observed the scene unfold, trying to decide if he wanted to step in.

“Eh this one’s a looker, isn’t she boys? Before the night’s over, I think I’ll use her for the whore that she is.” The one All Might assumed to be the leader taunted, stepping forward to tower over their victim.

Manic laughter floated throughout the air as the two lackeys accompanying him moved in to completely surround their target. “That sounds like a great idea boss! You always have the best ideas. Can we get a turn too? Please. Please. Please!” The one on the right begged.

“Maybe once she’s unconscious. You know it’s only fun for me when they’re awake so I can see the look of fear in their eyes. God, just the thought of it is giving me a hard on already.” The leader chuckled out.

”Pl-please,” A woman’s shaky, frightened voice whimpered out, “let me go. I-I have money. Just tell me what you want!”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, the blood in All Might’s veins turned ice cold. That-that was your voice. And just like that, the overwhelming pride he had been feeling moments ago withered away, consumed by something much more deadly-a feral rage. How dare they talk to you like that? How dare they even try to lay their hands on you? Fists clenched and shaking in anger, All Might stalked towards them, blue eyes blazing and filled with an unquenchable, seething bloodlust.

Unaware of their impending doom, a harsh slap echoed through the night as the leader thug slammed your head into the dumpster you were backed against. He looked down at you, sneering, “Shut up, bitch! You’ll be lucky if you make it out of here alive tonight. You should be grateful that I’m even considering it.”

“I’d leave the girl alone if you know what’s good for you.” A gravelly voice spoke from behind.

Turning around halfway, the leader scoffed, not even bothering to see who the person was. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? This one’s ours, so why don’t you scram before I decide to kill you t-”

He was cut off as a hand shot out, quick as lightning, to wrap around his throat. Before he could even register what was happening, the thug’s eyes bulged as the hand began choking him. He felt himself being lifted 3 feet into the air, and soon came face to face with a set of flaming blue eyes. At the sight of them, his body went stiff in fear. The rest of the newcomer’s face was hidden by the shadows of the night, but just the sight of his eyes were enough to make the thug cower.

“Who….the….hell….are….you?” The leader gasped out, vision going spotty from his quickly draining air supply.

Letting out a sinister chuckle, the newcomer stepped into the light emitting from a nearby streetlamp. Seeing who it was, the leader’s mouth went dry as a sweat broke out on his forehead. His already tight throat closed up even more causing his breath to come out in wheezes as a chill of fear worked its way down his spine, causing his body to tremble in mid-air.

“Al-All...Might” He rasped out, hands pointlessly tugging on the one large hand curled around his throat.

A wicked smile crept onto All Might’s face. “Good,” He purred out, “You know who I am, so there’s no need for introductions. Maybe you aren’t a complete imbecile.”

Tilting his head to study his prey, All Might reconsidered, “Although it is hard to believe you actually possess a brain, considering you tried to steal something of mine.”

Nodding his head toward your shaking, huddled form a few feet away, All Might’s face hardened. “That girl over there belongs to me, and you just tried to touch her. Now if you remember anything about me, you should know that I don’t share. Do you want to know what happens to people who try to take things that belong to me?”

Eyes darting back and forth, the thug frantically shook his head as much as he could while being held in All Might’s grip. “Pl-please… I-I… didn’t know!”

Ignoring the man’s pleas completely, all the previous traces of being dangerously coy with the thug were wiped away as All Might murderously intoned, “They die.”

With that, All Might began to squeeze the hand wrapped around the man’s throat even tighter. Garbled chokes escaped the man’s lips as with each passing second All Might added more and more force. Reveling in the sound, a sadistic, twisted grin made its way onto All Might’s face. If he was feeling generous, he could have just snapped the man’s neck and been done with it, but that would have been too easy. The bastard had to pay for what he did, and so All Might made sure to drag it, delighting in the way the man’s neck slowly began to crack in his grasp as the life drained from his eyes. Sickening sounds floated into the air, mixtures of bone breaking and strangled gasps as the man gagged on his own saliva. His hands flailed, desperately clawing at the limb wrapped around his neck in a futile attempt to break free. Much too soon for All Might’s liking though, the thug’s efforts slowed before stopping altogether, his hands falling lifelessly back down to his side.

Letting out a sneer, All Might finally released him from his grasp letting his body carelessly crumple to the ground with a revolting thud. “How pathetic, he didn’t even last 2 minutes.”

Taking one last glance at the body, he kicked it to the side before turning his attention toward the two lackeys trembling in the corner. Blinded by bloodlust, he stalked toward them, licking his lips in anticipation and clenching his hands together, imagining their necks were in between them.

All Might was almost upon them when a flash of movement captured the corner of his eye. Momentarily ignoring his prey,  he shifted his body slightly and caught sight of you, shivering in a seated position with your arms wrapped tightly around your legs while slowly rocking back and forth. Gooseflesh had broken out along your skin from the chilly night air, only agitated by the cold sweat that had broken out upon your brow from the night’s events. Stray hairs stuck to your skin as wide, fearful (e/c) eyes looked up to lock with his own, and instantly All Might felt his bloodlust melt away, replaced by an overwhelming need to go to you.

Spinning back around, he addressed the two lackeys quivering in the corner. He pointed a disgusted, raging scowl at the thugs before thundering his ultimatum. “You have exactly 5 seconds to get out of my sight. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up like your boss over there.” He stated, throwing a finger back over his shoulder in the direction of the corpse.

Leaning down, he pulled both of them up by the collar of their necks. “And if I ever catch you even looking at this girl, trust me when I say you won’t live to tell anyone about it. But, feel free to tell your buddies about what happened here tonight. It’ll be a good reminder to everyone out there about what happens when you try to take something that belongs to me. Remember boys, I. Don’t. Share. So spread the word that this girl’s mine.”

Then, without another word, All Might threw them towards the opening of the alley. Not needing to be told twice, they scrambled back, hightailing it out of there. Watching them go, a small smirk passed over his face at their show of naivety. He’d let them go, for now. He had more important matters to take care of. But come tomorrow, they’d be dead. All Might was nothing if not a man of his word, and so they, too, would have to pay with their lives for trying to steal from him. He could see it now. The look of shock their faces would portray at his appearance tomorrow. The way it would morph into a look of fear as he approached them. And finally, the acceptance that would fill their eyes as he squeezed the life out of them, realizing, at last, that he had never intended to let them truly escape. Yes, tomorrow would be a very good day indeed.

Turning around, he started to approach you, making slow, small steps when your face darted up in fear, like a deer caught in headlights. Seeing that it was just him, All Might watched your tense body start to relax as you buried your head back into your legs. Reaching you, he squatted down to be eye level with you, hesitantly reaching an arm out to place it on your shoulder. Now that you were no longer in danger, All Might felt unsure of what to do. He didn’t know how to comfort someone in distress as he was much more used to being the one causing the distress. Finally, he decided to settle for asking basic yet somewhat obvious questions.

“Are you alright?” He gruffed out.

Hearing no reply, a worry that he tried to push away started to creep into his mind the longer you stayed silent. Were you hurt? Had he gotten there too late? Had they touched you? He started to become lost in thoughts until a sudden force jolted him out of it. Looking down, he saw that you had attached yourself to his body, clutching at him like your life depended on it. He debated with himself for a few moments before choosing to reciprocate the gesture, wrapping his large arms around you and encasing you within his body heat. At his touch, your body started to shake with silent sobs, tears from your eyes beginning to wet his shirt. You stayed that way for a long time, bodies holding onto each other as you tried to process the events from the night. All Might didn’t say anything, choosing to offer you support quietly for as long as you needed it. Eventually though, your cries subsided and your frame slumped against him, exhausted from everything that had happened.

Eyes heavy, you were vaguely aware of your body shifting as All Might stood up. Lifting you with ease, he placed you into both of his arms, saying “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Slowly being lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his footsteps, a feeling of warmth and safeness washed over you. Right before you drifted to sleep, an inkling of a smile crossed over your face as you thought of the irony that you felt completely protected in the arms of the number one villain. With him, you knew that he would always be there to keep you safe. Although he was a villain, if tonight had proven anything, it seemed that you were an exception to the rule.

#all might x reader #villain all might x reader #all smite x reader #all smite #mha #my hero academia #yagi toshinori #all might x you #villain au #villain!all might #my hero fanfic #my hero x you #all might imagine

[americancowgirl19]

The Librarian Mobster

Summary: Nightwing saves you from getting jumped by a group of gang members. Then, during the day, you coincidentally run into Dick Grayson. Your hesitant to get to know him but he slowly works his way through your walls. But when he realizes who you truly are, will he regret working so hard to be with you?

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied sex, semi steamy scene

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,667

A/n:

Masterlist

“Done for the night, ma’am?” 

Looking up you send Brayden a small smile. It was getting late but you still had paperwork to get done. A lot of fucking paper work.

“I’m going to stay for a bit longer. Go ahead and get home. I bet you’re just dying to see that new baby of yours,” 

“The wife’s probably put him to sleep by now,” Brayden shrugs his shoulders. “I could wait and walk you home,”

“No, I’ll be fine,” You assure him. “We’re in the middle of a big deal. One that will benefit a lot of people. No one’s going to try and jeopardize their position to hurt me,”

“You can’t be too careful, ma’am,” Brayden warns. You wave off his concern. You knew his worries were valid but you didn’t want to go home yet and you didn’t want to keep him from his family.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” You promise him. Brayden reluctantly concedes. He bids you goodnight before stepping out of the library.

You work for another hour before you catch yourself falling asleep. Deciding that you would take the rest of your work home you begin to pack up. You slip all of your papers into your bag and slide into your jacket. You sling the strap to your messenger bag around your neck before grabbing the keys.

You lock up the library and begin walking home.

Call yourself arrogant but you highly doubted that you would get jumped. You didn’t live in the safest place in the world but it wasn’t Gotham. Although, you had to admit, your home city of Bludhaven wasn’t much better.

Nobody is ever completely safe in this city.  As immortal as you believe yourself to be you were still only a human girl walking home in the middle of the night in a dangerous city.

Your sense of immortality came from your upbringing. You were born into crime. In fact, your father was the head of a major crime family. A few years ago you took his position. You knew something could happen to you at any second but you felt safer knowing that the city believed the head of the family is a man named Francis David instead of you.

Frank is your decoy. He’s the face of the operation. He does all the talking and hand shaking while you make the decisions. To the underground you’re an assistant to Frank, nothing more. It allows you to stay in the loop but keep in the background. It also allows you to listen in on the gossip of the other assistants and get a feel of how your competition is truly doing.

Your organization is your secret power. You felt invincible walking home because you had an entire mob at your beck and call yet the outside world believed you were an innocent woman leaving work.

You remember a saying your father used to tell you ‘it isn’t if it’s when’. You rarely listened to the man but that saying always stuck with you. Therefore, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you were yanked from the street and into the alley.

Believe it or not but you often forgot that you weren’t the face of your company. Being in the background had it’s pros and cons. A positive is that you had your privacy and people weren’t targeting you. A con would be that you weren’t famous therefore the common criminal didn’t know who you were.

You knew in your heart if you were as famous as Gotham’s Joker or Riddler then these thugs wouldn’t have attempted to rob you. They would have sought easier pray but alas you weren’t well known and vulnerable to men like this.

Perhaps you should have taken Brayden up on his offer.

There were only three of them. One was particularly scrawny. With the training your father forced you to go through you knew you could take them. It would have hurt, you knew you’d get injured, but you were confident that you would end up walking away instead of them.

You fought against you instincts though. You struggled against their grip but you didn’t fight back. The men shout at you. They demand you to turn your things over to them but you don’t. Instead, you scream.

“Help! Somebody! Please, help me!” You cry out.

It’s obvious the men feed off of you ‘fear’ and ‘vulnerability’. The whole charade knocked your pride down a few pegs but it wasn’t without reason.

Why fight these men yourself and wake up with bruises when the infamous Nightwing is perched above you?

You caught a quick glance of him when the men had grabbed you. You couldn’t believe your eyes but then you saw him again.

You inwardly wondered if Nightwing had found out your true identity but you also thought that this could have just been a large coincidence. Perhaps he just happened to be there when you needed him. You were about to find out.

The boy in the blue and black costume jumped into the alley. He took out one of the men before they even realized he was there. The other two were no match for someone so trained and strong. Within a few minutes you attackers where unconscious on the ground.

“Th-thank you,” You whimper.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his voice deep but soothing. Your head nods multiple times. “Where are you headed?”

“Home,” You whisper, downcasting your eyes. It was a struggle to keep your eyes on the ground when his eyes were much more beautiful to look at. “It’s just a couple more blocks,”

“Get home, I’ll deal with them,”

“Thank you,” You whisper, sending him a smile before scurrying out of the alley. 

Seems like he just happened to be at the right place as the right time.

---

“Excuse me, ma’am?” 

Looking up from the computer you see a tall handsome man standing on the other side of the desk. He had neat brunette hair and beautiful yet familiar blue eyes.

“How can I help you?” You asks, forcing yourself from your thoughts. “Are you looking for a book?” 

Your day job is a librarian. You owned the library. In the basement is where all the magic happened. Deals between your mob and others occurred downstairs along with the production and distribution of your products. It’s one of the most secure and secretive organizations in Bludhaven.

You used the library to keep up on your research. You kept tabs on everyone you deemed important as well as some spicy blackmail. Those were restricted and not for public eye of course. 

You also used the library to satisfy your love to read. You grew tired of not having your favorite books within reach. Solution? Buy the local library.

“No, I had a few questions,” The man says, flashing his badge. “Can I have your name?”

“Only when I have yours,” You state with an innocent smile.

“Detective Dick Grayson,” He introduces himself. Your smile broadens.

“Well, welcome to my library detective,” You greet. “I’m Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“Three men were found beaten in the alley a few blocks from here. I was just wondering if you knew anything about that?” He asks, leaning on the countertop.

“It’s Bludhaven, Detective,” You needlessly remind him. “People are beaten everyday. I’d run out of memory if I had to remember all the beatings, drug deals and deaths that’s happened within a few blocks from here,”

“Right,” Dick says, slowly. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help with that but if you’re looking for a new read I’ll be more useful to you,” You suggest, leaning closer to him. Dick stares at you for a moment, a soft smile adorning his face.

“I’m sorry if this seems really straight forward but I was wondering if I could take you out for a drink? Or some dinner?” He asks. You nearly said yes.

“I don’t know you, Detective,” You tell him. “And I don’t go out with people I don’t know or else I’ll end up like one of those men you found in the alley,” You whisper to him like a secret.

“Very smart of you,” Dick whispers back.

“I’m a smart cookie,” You grin, shrugging your shoulders. Dick’s grin deepens.

“Thank you for your time,” He nods to you before leaving your library.

“I’m a smart cookie,” Brayden says in a dramatic, high pitched, female voice. You glare at him. You crumble up a piece of paper and throw it at his head.

“Shut up,” You mutter before turning back to your computer.

You thought the detective was extremely handsome. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair while staring into his eyes. God it’s been so long since you’ve touched someone else and just as long as you’ve been touched. 

He had large hands. You hold back a moan at the thought of what those hands could accomplish. Why did you reject him? Oh, yeah. You’re the head of a crime family and he’s a literal cop.

You didn’t realize your eyes had closed until they snap open. You see the crumbled paper laying on the floor by your chair. You give Brayden an unamused look while he smirks widely at you.

“You’re smitten already,” He sings.

“A girl can dream,” You concede slightly. “But nothing can come of it,” You remind him. He shrugs.

“You can still have fun and live a little,”

“Yeah, cause that’ll look good,” You scoff.

“If anyone has a problem with it just say you’re using him for your own personal gain. Like keeping ahead of the department and spying on their moves,” You nod thoughtfully. “Or getting the orgasm that you obviously need,”

This time you throw a stapler at his head.

---

The detective surprised you. You thought he would have given up after the first rejection. Instead he came back for more.

He came back the next day and the day after that. He continued to come back despite getting rejected every time.

Each day he showed up at the library the conversation between the two of you lengthened. You were both learning about each other.

You learned that he had three brothers, Bruce Wayne had adopted him, he used to be in a circus, and he enjoyed being a detective in Bludhaven.

You couldn’t be as open with him as he was with you but you were able to give him truthful answers. You gave him small but plentiful details about your family. You shared your love for books and your legal hobbies with him.

Eventually, he was showing up in the morning and sharing breakfast with you. Some days he saw you twice and brought you your favorite drink.

He was growing on you and that made you nervous. The people who knew who you were wondered what you were doing with him. You either told them very politely to mind their business or you gave them the bullshit answer about you using him to keep an eye on the police.

Brayden is the only one who actually witnessed you and Dick’s daily interactions. He knew that you were beginning to like Dick, truly like him. He constantly warned you to be careful. He had approved of you using him for physical pleasure but he recognized the dangers of you falling for him.

Every time he expressed his concern you assured him that you had things handled. You knew what you were doing and you were in control.

Only you weren’t. You weren’t in control and you had no idea what you were doing.

---

After nearly four months of continuous rejection you change your tune. When Dick enters the library you ask him out before he can get the chance to ask you. You both smile widely as each other as he accepts.

You take him out for a nice dinner the following night. There’s a comfortable conversation with intervals of cheesy flirting.

Throughout the night the two of you get closer to each other until your right beside each other. His arm is wrapped around you and your leaning into his side. Neither of you are completely sober but you’re also in control of your actions.

So, when you make it back to his home it’s entirely your decision to go inside with him. Nothing happens right away. There’s lingering touches and suggestive glances as you both wander into the kitchen.

He pours you both a drink. You ignore the glass. He doesn’t get the chance to take a sip before you’re pressing your lips to his. He nearly knocks his drink over when he goes to set it down but neither of you pay attention.

He keeps his lips pressed against yours as he bends down to cup his large hands under your thighs. Your heart flutters at his display of strength as he lifts you from the floor.

He begins stumbling to his bedroom. You can’t help but to laugh as he bumps into walls on his way. You pulls your lips from his and gaze into his eyes.

He makes it to the room and gently sets you on the bed. Your fingers graze his cheeks as he leans away from you. Your arms fall as he takes off his shirt. You lick your lips.

“Come here,” You whisper, reaching for him. He smirks laying back on top of you. You don’t hesitate to reconnect your lips to his. He resettles between your legs. You moan when he rolls his hips down against your core. “I want more,” You say, reaching for his pants.

“I’ll give you everything,” Dick responds, staring into your eyes. He lifts his hands and brushes his knuckles against your cheek. Your heart clenches at the look in his eyes. He lowers his head slowly and kisses you again.

This kiss is different. You both love and hate how clear Dick’s emotions are for you. In the library Dick is charming and flirtatious but here he’s honest and loving. Dick’s a private person but he’s always been open with you. You wished you could be as open and honest with him but if you were it would ruin everything.

You didn’t want to lose Dick. He’s safe, he’s trustworthy, and he’s honest when he says he cares about you. You hire people to protect you but someone could easily give them more money to hurt you. You never know who you can trust. Even Brayden, one of your closest friends, doesn’t have your complete trust.

But Dick... he’s something special. Someone you’ve never had before.

You can’t offer him half the things he offers you. You can’t give him complete honesty. He can’t trust you completely. If you were a better person you’d let him go but you don’t. 

You hold on tighter.

---

You were beyond stressed.

The deal you were in the process of completely is threatening to fall apart. Other members of the deal were starting to become overly greedy. You weren’t surprised but you had hoped you could reign them in more than you were.

On top of that, Nightwing was starting to become a problem. He was getting close to figuring out what the deal was, who was involved, and where the next meetings were. You admitted you were impressed with his intelligence but he was getting in the way.

At least you weren’t the only one stressed. You’re lovely boyfriend of five months (5 months dating, 9 months of flirting and knowing each other) seemed to be feeling the pressure of his work as well. 

You release a content sigh as Dick continues to lightly massage your back. Your head is comfortably nestled in his neck with the fingers on your hand combing through his dark hair.

“I love you,” He mutters, temporarily hugging you tightly before loosening his hold and returning to his massaging. Your heart clenches. You hesitate to respond.

You love Dick. You’ve told him before and you’ll say it again but actually saying the words haven’t gotten easier. You had a hard time believing Dick loved you. How could he when you were hiding such a big part of yourself? But God did you love him. You loved him so much it was dangerous.

“I love you, too,” You promise, gently kissing his neck.

“I want you to meet my family,” Dick whispers. You physically tense.

“You want me to meet Bruce Wayne and your three brothers?” You asks, slowly. He hums, shifting you both so your trapped between him and the couch. You didn’t like being trapped but you trusted Dick so much at the position only brought comfort.

“You’re the most important person in my life,” He whispers. “I have to go to Gotham in a few weeks and I want to show you off. My sexy librarian,” He winks at you and teasingly squeezes your hips.

The last thing you wanted to do was go to Gotham. There was so much going on here in Bludhaven that you needed to look after but the look in his eyes told you how important this is to him. What’s important to him is important to you.

“Alright,” You give in. 

“Thank you,” He whispers, kissing your lips. Your hands clutch his shirt and you hold him close. “Fair warning,” He mutters, pulling back. “Don’t listen to a word my brother Jason says and do not go anywhere with him alone,” You raise your eyebrows at him and let out a small laugh. “I don’t trust him to keep his hands to himself,” He admits. “Your mine and my little brother can find his own librarian,”

“Dick, relax, I’m not that big of a catch,” You tell him. He shakes his head.

“You’re the most impressive girl I’ll have brought home to meet the family,” He tells you. Your heart clenches again. “They’re going to love you,”

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint,”

---

“Do you have any questions?” You ask Frank. “Do not budge on this. If they don’t like it, they’re out of the deal. If they all try to leave remind them of what will happen with all that power and money solely in our hands,”

“Got it,” Frank nods. “Why won’t you be there?” He asks. “You always come along,”

“I know but I’m leaving for Gotham tomorrow morning,” You explain. “If anything happens, call me immediately,” You say.

“I will,” He promises. “What’s in Gotham? We making a deal with someone else I don’t know about?”

“Now why would I be making a deal on my own?” You ask, giving him a serious look. Again, you’re reminded why’re you’re the brains of the organization. Frank is good looking and an excellent actor but that’s the end of his talents.

“Right,” He mutters. “So, why?”

“I’m taking a small vacation,” You shrug.

“A vacation? Right now?” He deadpans.

“It’s not the best time, I realize that, but it couldn’t be helped,” You shrug. “Anyways, you have all the documents. You know what to say. You’ll be fine and if not just call me. I have to get going,”

Before you could step toward your belongings a man barges into the room. You glare at him for being so rude.

“Sir, ma’am, it’s Nightwing,” He pants. You clench your jaw.

“Fucking hell,” You mutter under your breath.

“What’s happened?” Frank asks.

“He’s attacked the warehouse and almost got away with shipping orders,” The man tells you.

“Almost?” Frank asks.

“We managed to capture him,” 

---

“So, you’re the famous Nightwing,” Frank says, approaching the tied up man in a Halloween costume.

He’s in an interrogation room. The building you’re in is an old abandoned police station. It was extremely useful to your business. Especially in times like this where you could use the two-way mirror.

You silently watch Frank try to interrogate Nightwing. Good actor, not a great interrogator. 

“If you let him escape he’s just going to keep bothering your business,” Brayden tells you.

“What do you want to do?” You ask him. “You want to kill him? You know where he comes from. If we kill him we’ll have the entire Bat team on our asses,” You remind him.

“Or we could pin his death on Romero,” Brayden suggests. “Think about it. We knock Nightwing out, go to the docks on Romero’s territory and slice his throat with a bullet to the chest. Typical Romero style,”

“They could still trace it back on us,” You mutter. “Batman’s very resourceful,” 

“We just have to keep them looking long enough to finish this deal,” Brayden tells you. “Once the deal’s done no one, not even Superman, is gonna be able to stop us,”

You way out the options. You didn’t want to kill Nightwing. You knew it would bring trouble but you were beginning to thing it would be more trouble to keep him alive.

“Alright,” You nod. “We’ll do it your way,”

---

You stayed in the car as your men drag Nightwing to the water. He struggles but the amount of drugs in his system prevent him from saving himself. 

The windows of the car are heavily tented preventing people from seeing in but not you from seeing out.

The decision to kill Nightwing is still weighing heavily on your chest but you know you can’t back out now. If you do you’re men will see it as a weakness. Not everyone here knew you were in charge. It would be too dangerous for you to reveal yourself.

You see Brayden forcing Nightwing to face him. There’s talking and you roll your eyes. You hated when people talked in moments like this. You just wanted to get this done with and return home to Dick.

You imagine his thick arms around you. His calming scent and smooth voice. You want to feel his hair with your fingers and his lips on yours. You craved everything about him.

You were unbelievably nervous for the trip to Gotham. You knew of Bruce Wayne. Your father actually looked up to the man. You knew your father always wanted to be Bruce Wayne. You always laughed at that thought because you were dating his idols son. If only he were alive to see it.

You sigh in frustration. This was dragging out. You look back to see what the hold up was. You look just in time to see one of the men pulling off Nightwing’s mask.

“No,” You whisper. What the fuck was Dick Grayson doing in Nightwing’s outfit? The answer was obvious, because he was fucking Nightwing, but you didn’t want to believe it.

Brayden looks back to the car you’re sitting in but you’re in shock. You make no movement to acknowledge what has just happened. Brayden takes your silence as an order to keep going.

“No!” You shout, seeing Brayden lifting the knife to slice his throat. You jump out of the car. “Stop! Don’t!” You shout. All eyes turn on you, even Dick’s.

“Y/n?” Dick whispers.

You march up to them, ignoring everyone’s looks. Brayden walks away from Dick and meets you half way. You try to go around him but he grabs you.

“Think about what you’re doing,” He whispers to you.

“I am,” You snap. “This changes things,”

“It changes nothing,” He snaps back. “He has to die, now more than before. He’s seen you, how long will it take for him to put the pieces together?” He asks. You look at Dick. You can already see the wheels turning in his gorgeous head. “If you save him, you will look weak,”

“Bray...” Your voice cracks. You look at him and slowly shake your head. “There are something’s in life I will not give up,”

“You think he’ll stay with you after this?”

“That’s his decision,” You tell him. “If he leaves me then so be it but at least he’ll be alive,”

“And you’ll be in jail, we’ll all go to jail,” He snaps. “I can’t go to jail, you know that. Don’t throw everything away for one man. Be smarter than that,”

“You’re right,” You whisper. “I’ve worked to hard to get to where I am now. I shouldn’t throw it away for him,” Brayden relaxes. “You’ve always looked out for me and I thank you for everything you’ve done,”

“You don’t have to thank-”

“But he goes free,” You cut him off. Your hand steals the gun from his holster and you step out of his grasp. You hold the gun up to him. In an instant guns are pointed everywhere. The ones who know that you’re in charge back you up while the confused ones point their guns against you.

“Don’t do this,” Brayden pleads. “You’ve known me for years. Don’t throw everything away for a man you’ve known for a few months,”

“What can I say?” You ask him. Your eyes flicker to Dick. “Love makes you do crazy things,”

Your eyes leave Brayden for a handful of seconds. In the corner of your eye you see him lunging for you. You don’t even hesitate. You pull the trigger sending him to the ground. Your eyes widen. You didn’t want to kill him. You didn’t mean too.

Your gunshot is the start of a chain reaction. Everyone starts shooting. You jump on the defensive. You return fire while trying to get to your tied boyfriend.

“Who are you?” Dick snaps as you cut him loose.

“I’m still me,” You promise, helping him get untangled. “I just know how to handle a gun and just so happen to be the leader of an underground mob,” You tell him.

“Oh, is that it?” He sasses. Once he’s free he grabs the back of your shirt and pulls you to a hiding spot.

“I wanted to tell you, I did,” You promise, peaking around the car. You shoot a man down.

“Well, I’m glad you waited,” He grumbles. “Really built up the tension there,”

“Hey, you could have come clean too,” You point out. “I’m not the only one with secrets,”

“What did you think was going to happen when you agreed to go out with me?” He ask, leaning against the car. He was slowly coming out of his drug induced haze.

“Agreed? Babe, I asked you out,” You reminded him. He dramatically rolls his eyes.

“What did you think was going to happen?” He snaps, glaring at you. “Did you honestly think that we would work?” You sit down beside him. Guns continue to go off behind you but you just put your focus on Dick.

“No, I didn’t,” You admitted to him. “At first you were just a distraction and then you became something good,” You look into his eyes. “I don’t have a lot of good things in my life. I knew I wouldn’t have you forever but  I couldn’t let you go. I do love you, Richard. I mean, I kind of just blew up my entire operation today just to save you. Don’t thank me or anything,” You mutter at the end.

Dick scoffs and shakes his head at you. Deciding to give him time to mull things over, you try to hurry up and end the firefight. It was dwindling but some were stubbornly hanging on.

“I think we’re going to need couples therapy after this,” Dick mutters. You tense and look at him.

“You’ll keep me?” You whisper. Dick turns his head.

“All the paperwork I’ve found, everyone that’s apart of your business or associated with it thinks Francis David is the head man. If you help me take everything apart and help me take down the other mobs, I won’t turn you in,” Dick promises.

“So, I’ll be the good guy,” You mutter. “Well, that’ll be a nice change of pace,” Dick smiles softly at you. “I get to keep you?” Dick nods. “Deal,” You seal it with a kiss.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x female!reader #DC comics #x reader #x y/n #x fem!reader #x female reader #x female!reader #x mobster!reader #x gangster!reader #x Librarian!reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader

[river-bottom-nightmare]

you ever wonder how,,,,,,what’s the word,,,uncomfortable jason would be with his body? well, not his body per se, but his frame. because almost every muscle’s trained to brutal perfection, and he uses all his strength when fighting, his moves fluid and harsh, someone perfectly aware of their own power and how to best use it.

but see, he grew up on the streets of gotham, and the working girls were always kind to him. they wouldn’t go out of their way to help him, and their gazes switched from pitying to angry when he mentioned his parents, but they were kind. they’d give him a bite of food, ruffle his hair affectionately. sera liked to work the area around roswell and tucker, one of the worst parts of town. she was a bit older than most of the other girls, and could fend for herself. jason used to love sitting with her in the morning, cigarette smoke getting in their eyes as sera told him stories and the taught him some basic self defense moves. 

and jason was a smart kid. it was either the sympathetic grandma in the single library it was relatively safe enough to go to saying it, (because really, what would anyone want with a library?) or the auto parts dealer that jason had just hustled saying it. he noticed the way the girls tensed up with a big guy walked past, even if he didn’t even glance in their direction. he noticed the way the teenage chick in the group home that taught him long division before he left eyed those men warily, warned jason to always go for the balls. he noticed the way sera took a fortifying breath before stalking over to those men, swaying her hips. if they were too big, too menacing looking, she let them go, saying there were plenty of others that wanted what she could give. 

he only saw it all the more when he became robin, when he clawed his way up to earning that cape. he had contacts, old friends that would let slip about some gang or mob plan to make it easier for the petty little crimes to go unpunished. batman turned a blind eye to teenagers stealing food, and jason’s heart swelled when bruce called his contacts “helpful.” when he swung by the parts of the city he’d grown up in, the working girls would laugh about the little muscle he’d gained on his frame, and sera always saved a smile for him, a real one. 

then there was pain, a horrible choking sound as he coughed up blood, smoke filling his lungs and proving him wrong when he thought his burned body couldn’t possibly feel anymore pain. then, he woke up, glowing green and raging. there wasn’t much time to reflect on how he’d changed, how he’d grown, when he was busy fighting and learning and surviving talia’s mind games and the league’s tutors.

when he came back to gotham, though, a sickly sweet pride swept through him. he used to think mob thugs and gangsters were huge. now, he towered over them and made them cower in fear. one move to draw up his broad shoulders sent people scuttling. it felt,,,right, in a sense. he’d spent his childhood scared of the men that stalked gotham’s alleys like they owned her. now, with a couple quick moves, he owned them. he matched batman move for move, blow for blow, and never felt better.

the red hood loved his height, loved his weight, loved his brawl. but red hood and jason peter todd were two very different people, in jason’s mind. and when jason walked into a corner store to buy some beer, toilet paper, and a pack of squares, when the teenage girl in the store moved to the opposite end of the store, when the woman behind the counter held her breath from the moment he walked in, it took him a good couple of minutes to realize they were scared of him. and that,,,,that wasn’t a good feeling.

the next time he clashed with the bats, jason took a little time to study dick. he was lean and nimble as ever, moving quicker than a thought, his hits that same brand of graceful viciousness that jason envied but knew he’d never be able to reach. he was also a good four or five inches shorter than jason, and not nearly as broad. it left a funny feeling in jason, and struck him, for probably the first time, how small dick was in comparison to many other people in this line of work. he’d spent all those years tipping his head back just to see dick smile, and now he could glare down at him.

he was walking along roswell and tucker, nothing but jeans and a hoodie on, the gun in his boot and the gun on his back invisible to anyone other than a trained professional. he caught a familiar glimpse in the distance, and his lips started to quirk up in a smile. but then sera tensed, gave him a quick once-over, and slipped into the shadows of an alley, her message clear. she didn’t recognize him. she was scared of him.

after that, when he was jason peter todd, he tried to keep himself somewhat open and easy to read, as nonthreatening as a man with his build and his number of scars could. he tried to walk under streetlights, and kept his hands loose and relaxed and visible at his sides. he practiced smiling in the mirror, that gentle, kind one that used to come so easily, and gave it out to people he glanced at him nervously, or stiffened up. it helped, a little.

its been a while since i’ve done angst, i figured i was overdue

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @astroherogirl @dangerduckjpeg @bikoncon 

#scribbles from the swamp #jason todd #red hood #dc #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #dc headcanon #jason todd fic #red hood fic #dc fic #jason todd drabble #red hood drabble #dc drabble #long post

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

I love scenarios where superheroes get eaten by normal civilians or random goons. Can I have some prompts where this happens to Batman?

I think any scenario where super important/super powerful people are eaten by just some random nobody is absolutely wonderful. Superheros are wonderful for this.

B.atman knew that The Scarecrow was developing a new gas of some kind. He hadn’t been able to figure out what it was meant to do, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good and went in to put a stop to it before he unleashed it onto people. He was dealing with the usual hired thugs when one of his punches suddenly finds himself elbow deep into the man’s mouth. It was enough to stop the d.ark knight in his track from put confusion. That was also, unfortunately, enough time for the thug to gulp him in up to his chest. B.atman squirmed and struggled, but he was almost effortlessly devoured by the goon. He fills out the man’s stomach, his cowl getting belched up and his cape half hanging from the man’s jaws. His suit was tough, which meant it would at least survive the acidic trip through the man’s guts. B.atman himself? Well, not so much. But at least he found out what The Scarecrow was planning. Unfortunately, it worked.

It was meant to be an easy night. He hadn’t heard of any big plans from the larger criminals of G.otham--hell most of them were still in jail. So B.atman was able to focus on smaller crimes, which is how he ended up in the situation he did. He was saving some college student from a mugging and took down the small group of thugs rather easily. He was about to tell the student he was safe, but he must have still been scared since the moment B.atman approached, he was attacked. He didn’t want to hurt the bystander he just saved, so instead of fighting him back, he simply defended himself. He didn’t expect to find his head in a tight, slimy maw. It was almost embarrassing how easily and quickly he was slurped down from there. When the student hurries off and calms down, he’ll likely realize his mistake, but by that point, B.atman will be as good as gut fat anyway. At least he’ll have a fun story to tell at parties.

In one moment, everything had gone dark and slimy for the d.ark knight. He had leaped down from building the minute he saw the single in the sky. He didn’t realize, however, that there was some random drunk in the alley just before that wouldn’t stop hiccuping. He dove feet first into an open jaw and slid down without even a single gulp needing to take place. Neither even really knew what happened. All the drunk knew was that he was suddenly full and B.atman knew he was suddenly encased somewhere slimy and gurgling. Come morning, the drunkard is going to have a very interesting dump, if he even glances at whatever parts of the bat suit escape his digestive system.

#v.ore #male vore #gay vore #mlm vore #m/m vore #vore prompts #male vore prompts #digestion #fatal vore #disposal #ask #superhero vore #batmanvore

[crazy4myself]

No Harm List Pt. 1

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Violence, explicit language, I’m sure this will get worse as we go

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list. 

a/n: this is my first fic and it's taken me near a year to get the balls to write and post it. I would like to make this a series or drabble series if people seem interested in reading more. Please let me know if you like it :) 

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Let’s start from the beginning. Which was the night you saved the maknae’s life.

You were leaving your late-night shift at 929, the convenience store you worked at. The job, like the rest of your college experience, wasn’t in any way glamourous. But the owners were nice, and since it was a 24-hour store, it was easy to get hours despite your demanding college schedule; if you were willing to sacrifice sleep. It was a heavy stock day, so you were getting out later than planned, but you lived less than a mile from your apartment, so you didn’t mind the walk back.

Something was comforting about walking the 7th ward at 3 a.m. when the streets are the quietest. The late-night crowd from the gambling halls and bars always seem to turn in around 2, and the more motivated hustlers tend to wake up at 4 to get a head start on their day. The hour of 3 a.m. was a 60 minute breath of fresh air where few people roamed the streets. A common hour where criminals and businessmen alike hugged their pillows. 

A chill lingered in the air the way it always does after a big rainstorm, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. By the look of the sidewalks, you were going to get your socks wet on the walk home, thanks to the weakening seems on your only pair of boots.

You kept your pepper spray in one hand and your phone in your pocket as you made your way down the street. Just because 3 a.m. was a quieter hour did not mean it was safe, especially in the 7th ward. Staying aware of your surroundings gave people less of a chance to sneak up on you, so you didn’t check your phone or listen to music. You made yourself stare strait ahead and walk confidently. Seeming like more trouble than you or your wallet is worth, is one of your primary forms of self-defense on nights like these.  

When you moved out of the university dorms after your freshman year, you told your family of your plans to share a house with a few friendly classmates in the quiet suburbs outside the city where it was safer, and that seemed to quell their worries. And as long as they weren’t worried about you, you were okay with lying to them. 

Because you didn’t live in the suburbs with friendly classmates, you very much lived alone in a shitty apartment where you were fairly certain all your neighbors were drug dealers. But your landlord Mrs.Rita doesn’t seem to mind at all. To your knowledge, the location was in a gang neutral territory, so you didn’t need to worry about any raids or shootings that you hear talk of so often on the bus or at work. 

You have lived in the 7th ward for the better part of three years. It was one of the dirtiest and most dangerous parts of the city capital, a place where gangs, drugs, violence, ruled the streets. 

It was also the cheapest place to live and only a 20-minute commute from your university by public transport.

When you first got accepted into university, your parents were as happy for you as they were worried. The university had one of the top medical programs in the world, and to be accepted on scholarship was an honor even they couldn't overlook, but living across the ocean in a different country meant they lived with no peace of mind. 

So you always kept your letters and phone calls short and pleasant. You never complained or let them know of any struggles you were having because the moment they got word of your hardships, they would latch onto that and convince you to come home. 

You hadn’t made it eight blocks from the store when you heard someone cry out. It was a strangled sound that made you freeze in your tracks before it was quickly cut short.

The silence was accompanied by a low thud that made your stomach drop. Your heart pounded in your ears as possibilities raced through your mind. It could be some restless teens goofing off late at night, it could be something you can just stroll pass without a problem, but it was equally likely that it wasn’t. And you didn’t know what to do about that risk. 

You debated turning around and going back to the store and hiding out for an hour or two until whatever happened settled down.

It was the sound of another cry out that broke you from the worrying debate as your instincts sent you flying in the direction of the sound. Because apparently, your instincts aren’t here to keep you alive. 

You turned the corner and peered down the alley where the commotion was coming from to be met by a set of thugs corning a young boy. The thugs turned at the sound of your shoes scraping against the asphalt and sneered at you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You demanded as you took in the scene of two men and met eyes with the young boy with wide doe eyes who was pinned to the wall by the largest man in the group. 

The boy had what looked to be the start of a black eye and a small trickle of blood running from his split lip. He looked a few years younger than you, and by the looks of the brand name on the sleeve of his shirt, he had no reason to be in this part of town. 

“Keep walking, sweetheart before you see something you don’t want to,” one of the men, who was covered in tattoos, growled. 

You felt your legs tremble as part of you wished to listen to him.

 “Leave him alone,” you pushed in a voice that was much weaker than you intended.

 What were you doing? Did you have a deathwish?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the tattoos questioned voicing your own thoughts as his scrawny partner pushed off the wall stalked towards you.

 “Do you think this going to go well for you?” Scrawny taunted as he closed the distance. You stepped back, making sure to keep your back to the mouth of the alleyway to avoid getting cornered to the wall. 

“Get out of here,” the boy warned, you spared him a look to see Tattoos kneed him in the gut. 

The boy's face twisting in pain served distraction enough for Scrawny to charge toward you and shove you toward the wall before you could react. 

“I thought we told you to scram '' he sneered in an oily voice. One of his hands that was backing your figure against the wall reaching up to tug at a strand of your hair, “Or does a tiny thing like you want to play the hero?” you felt his hot breath on your face as he crowded you.

 An involuntary squeak slipped from your lips, and your heart pounded as your mind begged you to do something quickly. You gripped the pepper spray tighter in your grip forcing yourself to react. 

Before Scrawny could make another move, you held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut, wedging your arm between the two of you and pulling the trigger on your pepper spray while simultaneously bringing your knee up between his legs. 

You yelped in pain as Scrawny pushed away from you, taking a lock of your hair with him, but forced your mouth to stay shut as he and howled in pain. A string of coughs and curses mixing in as he inhaled the pepper spray.

Opening your eyes to water in the residue of the mace in the air, you realized you must have hit your target because the man was no longer on his feet and slowly curling into a ball on the ground still hacking out a lung. 

Tattoo’s cursed under his breath and pulled the boy off the wall by his shirt and slammed his body into the brick twice in frustration. 

“I have to do everything around here!” He rorared. The sound of the boys body impacting aginst the wall echoed in the alley with Tatto’s scream. 

Tatto’s reached in his back pocked and with a flick of the wrist displayed a wicked blade as the boy blinked up at him dazed. 

You screamed out in horror. Desperate to get the man away from the boy, you pulled your shoe off your foot and lobbed it at the back of Tatto’s head. 

With a growl, he released the boy who crumpled to the ground before turning his attention to you.  

He looked down at the ground making a point to slowly toe your limp boot out of his path with a low chuckle before prowling forward a preditor cornering his prey.

 You found his intimidation tactic to be very effective, you body telling him as much as you raised your pepper spray between you, hand trembling. 

The man barked a laugh. “Go ahead, sweetheart, I put that stuff on my eggs for breakfast,” he taunted. 

Under normal circumstances, you would call bullshit, but right now as he stalked towards you, you were willing to believe such an unorthodox diet. 

Please be a thug and not a rapist, you found yourself begging in the back of your mind as he slapped the can out of your hand before you could even press down on the trigger. 

“Now, I don’t like cutting up pretty girls,  but you’re leaving me no choice sweetheart.” he warned as he crowded your space. 

With a seemingly effortless flick of his wrist, he backhanded you across the cheek, the momentum sending you flying towards the ground. The smack of skin still rang in your ears as you landed hard on the asphalt palms stinging. 

Tears welled in your eyes as Tattoo’s grabbed your hair by the roots and leaned to whisper in your ear. You felt the cool metal of the flat of the blade cress down your arm.

But no threats came. 

Instead, you were tugged harshly to the side nearly faceplanting to the ground, and a scream ripped from your throat in the confusion as the knife clattered away. 

You opened your eyes to see Tattoos on the ground next to you eyes rolling into his skull, and the boy you were ‘saving’ leaning over you. 

“C’mon get up!” he grabbed your hand, pulling you onto your feet. 

You winced as your hair untangled from Tattoo’s now limp grip, and you looked over to see the man had fallen on the ground with you blinking dazed as blood trickled from his temple. 

“Run!” the boy ordered, keeping hold of your hand and dragging you out the alley and back up the street. 

You trailed behind him clumsily at first, thrown off balance by your missing shoe. But it wasn’t long before you heard footsteps tromping behind you, and you magically regained your coordination with the new burst of adrenaline and fear.

“Don’t look back,” the boy huffed before you could spare a glance over your shoulder. 

You ran a few more blocks before you saw the famier sight of your work.

“C’mon this way,” You pant taking the lead and pulling him into the alley by 929. 

“We can’t-” you hushed him as he started to argue, pulling him behind one of the dumpsters as you heard the thugs run past you and turn the corner onto the next street. 

The two of you sat in silence for an eternity of a minute, holding your breath as you made sure they didn’t come back. At that time, you realized you grossly underestimated the boy’s age. He didn’t look like a high schooler at all. Once you got past his wide round eyes you could see he was clearly your age. 

He was handsome, and although his shirt near swallowed him, you could see the fabric stick to his defined biceps and what looked to be a solid stomach.

“I think we’re good,” he whispered, breaking you from a trance. He smiled at your startled expression.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he said with a grin as he offered his hand. Grasping his hand, you responded with your own name as he helped you up from your crouch.

“I wouldn’t doubt it if they turn back around though, I wouldn’t doubt if there’s more than two of them. We need to get off the street,” he breathed, turning to you. 

“I have a place” you offered, wondering why you were about to risk your employment for this stranger as you walked deeper in the alley to where the back entrance of 929 was. 

“Please don’t touch anything,” you requested sheepishly as you unlocked the door. He cracked a small smile, which in turn cracked his lip as it started to well red with blood. You need to get the first aid kit- you thought to yourself.

 You entered the store and immediately locked eyes with your shift cover, Skip -the owner’s nephew. He was a lanky fellow about 1 year past due for a haircut, but he never gave you any trouble. 

“What are you doing back here?” he questioned, eyeing you and Jungkook’s disheveled state. 

“What are you doing back here? Why aren’t you on the floor?” you shot back, trying to appear calm. He scowled at you before returning to the register upfront. 

You led Jungkook through the backroom to the small corner that was the ‘employees lounge’, a folding chair and cardtable that was half-covered in inventory documents and leaned a little too far to the left.

“Best stay in the backroom since the front of the store is made up of windows,” you said lightly before reaching for the first aid kit on a nearby shelf. 

He watched you curiously as you shuffled through the dusty medical supplies. This can't be sanitary, you thought to yourself as you read through the expired labels with slight difficulty as your hands shook. You were just coming down from an adrenaline high, you told yourself stubbornly.

You settled on the hydrogen peroxide which didn’t look out of date just yet and poured some on the cleanest rag you could find. Willing your hand to hold steady before prodding it gently at the scratches on his face. 

Jungkook tried to keep his expressions neutral, tried to keep his eyes staring past you and to the doorway to avoid studying every detail of your face. But he found himself failing as he watched you fall into the comfort of tending to his wounds. 

He noticed the distraction was grounding you more than putting you on edge. And he wondered if you were experienced in this somehow as you reached for his hands to pick out the rubble and wrap his split knuckles. 

When you started work on his hands he realized that he was shaking, and he flushed with embarrassment. You didn’t seem to notice or judge him at least. You inspected his hand with a trained eye overlooking the tremor and instead focusing on the swelling on his wrist. 

Fractured, you wondered, watching his face cautiously as you gave an experimental turn. He flinched, confirming your suspicion, and you winced thinking about how you grabbed his arm to pull him into the alley. 

 “Thank you for helping me,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “and for this.” He ended awkwardly, pulling his hand from your grasp and gesturing to the rag in your hand and the first aid kit.

“Oh,” you let out not knowing how to respond to such a situation, “umm you’re welcome I mean anyone would-”

“They wouldn’t,” he cut you off with another cheeky grin, “but I’m glad you did. Although I’m sorry, you had to.” you nodded in response all words lost as you flushed unsure of what to do with yourself you shuffled through the first aid kit. 

“Wait, wait, we didn’t get you,” he murmured, taking your hand and gently turning it palm up to reveal the scattered scratches. 

He stood from the chair maneuvering you so you could be seated instead, before helping himself to the first aid kid. He picked out a few bits of gravel before carefully dabbing the scrapes to clean them, and reaching for the thin white strips of gauze. Wrapping your hands in a way, he saw you wrap his own.

 You smiled amused, while it was a little unnecessary to wrap your hands, the cuts on his were much deeper than your own. You appreciated the gesture. You couldn’t remember the last time someone tended to your wounds.

“Now Cinderella, let’s take a look at that foot,” he said with a teasing smile as he crouched down, reaching for your ankle. 

Panic flew through you as you pulled your foot away with an embarrassing squeal. “No need, it’s fine. I swear,” you flushed. 

He looked at you, amused, “Everyone has feet, it’s fine,” he taunted, reaching for your soggy sock. 

“I know, I know, but please,” you gasped. “I’m ticklish, and I will squirm,” you warned.

“I think I can handle it.” 

“No, you can’t. I don't want to hurt you. I think your wrist is broken,” you accused in your desperation to deflect. 

Jungkook looked up at you with a faltering smile argument dying on his lips. And you tried to amend yourself as your rambled, “Or fractured at least, the swelling indicates that-”

“You’re a doctor?” he questioned, looking pleasantly surprised. 

“No, not yet, at least. I’m in school, but not far enough to help you. We should really get you to the hospital to get it taken care of, and who knows what state your ribs are in.” you said, looking down as he still kneeled on the ground. You wondered how he wasn’t showing any sign of discomfort, even with adrenaline in his system he should be in some pain.

“Oh no, no hospital” he argued quickly, and you raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously “If you let it heal wrong it’ll-” 

“I’ll have a friend take me, I don’t want you to go through that trouble” you looked at him unimpressed but didn’t push you knew when a fight was a lost cause. 

“Well, are you going to call a friend or a cab to pick you up, I’m not letting you just walk out there to die after risking my life for you.” you teased. He rolled his eyes at the statement but agreed he should call someone. 

You wandered a little closer to the front of the store to give him a sense of privacy as he made his call. You felt a twinge of pain in your ankle as you got up and reached down to tug your sock off. You wondered if you rolled it in your heroic flee earlier. 

You frowned down at your wet sock. You can’t belive you just threw you boot like that. They weren’t in the best condition, but they were the best pair your had. The closest thing to water resistant. The last bits of Spring were going to suck without them. 

Then you shamelessly wondered if you could go back to the alley to grab it, once you and Jungkook parted ways. 

As you assess yourself for an injury and mourned your lost boot, you couldn’t help but overhear Jungkook’s conversation. It seems he called a friend instead of a cab. What stood out to you was his tone of voice when he spoke. 

You know there is no easy way to tell a friend you got mugged, some dumb girl interfered, and now you were hiding out in the back of a convenience store, but he had a tone of... professionalism? As if he were calling his boss and informing him of a missed deadline. He spoke efficiently and made odd references as if he were speaking in a code of some kind.

 It never occurred to you at any point this evening that Jungkook could be dangerous. Sitting alone with him in the back of the shop, he gave off such a warm and inviting presence that you never questioned what he was capable of. You just assumed he was the victim of a mugging. 

But now, taking in his clothing, how he spoke to his ‘friend’ on the phone, and the way he refused to go to the hospital, you start to wonder just who you let in the store. 

“Did you need to call someone?” you jumped as his voice broke your trail of thought, and he looked at you apologetically. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just thought you may wanna call a cab yourself” he offered

You worried your lip as you looked at the idle screen of your own phone, and your mind drew a blank at who you could call. 

You had friends, just no one you could call at 4:30 a.m. on a school night and ask for a ride to your apartment that was less than two miles away. You really didn’t want to pay for a cab either. The thought of sitting in a vehicle with a stranger sounds less than ideal, not to mention the cab fare in the area was ridiculous and you might have a new pair of boots to save up for. 

Finally, sighing, you looked up at him with a teasing smile, “I was just going to head home once I know you're safe,” you said, trying your best to make your voice seem light. 

Jungkook smiled but not out of humor. 

“You’re joking, right? Look, I’m not trying to sound disrespectful, but you really shouldn’t be out there like that this late.” 

You scrunch your nose in displeasure, and before you could kindly remind him, it was nearly 5 o’clock in the morning, and was you who saved his ass just over an hour ago he pushed forward. 

“Those guys saw your face just as much as mine. It’s not safe to be out tonight; you have no clue if they're lurking.” 

You felt a small chill of fear go through you, and you couldn’t help yourself from asking, “Did you know them? What did they want from you?” 

He looked uneasy at your question, and you wondered if saving him might have unexpected consequences. “No, no, I didn’t know them, or why they mugged me; they probably wanted my wallet or something,” he finally said with a shrug, but it didn’t feel like the truth. 

“Jungkook do-” 

“Hey, let me give you a ride home.”

You were caught off guard by his offer, but as he continued to plead with you and reminded you of all the dangers of walking home, you took him up on his request. And half hoping maybe in your time together you could get the truth out of him. 

You tried to act normal while you waited with him for his friend to come to pick the two of you up. 

You considered thinking of an excuse to get out of the ride home, but he never did anything to you to prove he wasn’t trustworthy. You told yourself you were just paranoid after such a jarring experience. Jungkook was probably as worked up as you were after all. 

Then the car pulled up. It was sleek black and with a soft purring engine that looked out of place on the west side of the city. You looked between the car and Jungkook trying to determine if he was rich or a criminal as the passenger side window rolled down revealing the most stunning man you’ve ever seen, that looked at you in a way that had you pulling at the edge of your work polo to smooth out the wrinkles. 

 “Get in loosers we’re going shopping,” he said in fake enthusiasm. 

You didn’t know how to react to the outdated Mean Girl’s reference, and he laughed at your dumbfounded expression before deadpanning, “I’m kidding, but seriously Kook please get your friend in the car before we get shot. The area isn’t secure,” his flat tone contrasting with the carefree rectangular smile he punctuated his sentence with. 

Jungkook cursed under his breath before putting his good hand against your lower back to urge you into the backseat of the car before sliding in behind you.

 As you made your way into the fine vehicle, you were very aware of your missing shoe and haggard appearance. You worried you may soil the interior permanently.

 The car took off as soon as Jungkook slid in the back behind you. And Jungkook pulled the door shut with a curse as the car started rolling. 

You looked up to see the driver was an equally beautiful man.

You weren’t one to compare humans to higher beings. However, you were very aware that you were sitting in the car with a Greek god and his angel best friend. Saints were you in some kind of beautiful men only AU? You needed to find a way out before your heart exploded. 

You curse yourself for thinking so shallowly when you may not even be in the clear of a life-threatening situation just yet. 

But you noticed you were sitting behind the angel in the driver’s seat, and as far as you were concerned, that was a pretty good position to be in, in the case of a kidnapping. They would have a hard time holding you hostage if you had your hands around their driver’s throat. 

“These are my friends Jimin and Taehyung,” Jungkook introduced as you both buckled. “Guys, this is... Cinderella,” Jungkook says, stretching out his words as he thought. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as the angel Jimin let out a laugh, the sound as pure as bells.

Taehyung turned around with a challenging glint in his eye, and your stomach dropped as you recognized his face. “Is that what you go by, princess?” He taunted, and you squirmed under his gaze. 

“Do you two know each other?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowed. 

“We go wayyy back,” Taehyung, who up until now you knew as V, teased. Jungkook looked at you expectingly.

“He’s uh- he’s my dealer,” you said quietly as you stared at your lap, “nothing heavy just some Adderall during finals season,” you amended flushing.

It was true, although your interactions were brief until tonight, you didn’t even know his real name. You just knew him as the guy in the hoodie that hung out behind the Mexican restaurant, not too far off-campus, that went by V. He wore a mask any time you met probably to hide such a distinct smile, but the moment you heard his voice, you recognized him.

“And mid-term season, and test week, and group projects, and  -”

“We get it, Tae,” Jimin said with a warning to his tone cutting the dealer off in his listing.  

The car fell into a tense silence before your body was once again lurched into the car door from Jimin taking another tight turn, and the motion helped you gather your wits.

“Are we going to the hospital?’ you asked, confused about how confidently Jimin was driving despite not knowing your address.

“No, we’re taking a few laps around town before we drop you off just in case we have anyone following you guys, you don’t want your friends from earlier to know where you live” Jimin offered. The confidence in his voice suddenly made you uncomfortable as you realized they may be experienced in this situation. 

“Why would we go to the hospital; are you injured?” he followed concern bleeding into his voice. Taehyung turned around in his seat to asses you for himself, lips quirking at the sight of your missing shoe. 

“No, Jungkook is his wrist-” 

“Is fine, I'll have someone look at it when we get to the house” Jungkook cut you off with a warning look.

Teahyung laughed “You’re getting an earful tonight brother.” he teased as Jimin took a sharp turn lurching your body into the door.

“I- umm I would like to go home as soon as possible, please,” you asked weakly as you saw the first rays of the sun were starting to paint the buildings. 

Jimin’s eyes flashed towards you in the rearview mirror, concerned, “I really do promise to get you home safely, princess, but to do that, please let me do my job first and then this night will be over.” he assured his voice warm and confident. And while part of you believed he truly did plan to get you home safe tonight the rest of your mind was immediately set on high alert by his kind words

Forty-odd minutes later, you found yourself deep in the upper east side of the city where all the houses had tall iron fences, and the yards were decorated with fountains. By the time you gave Jimin the address of your apartment, the streets were beginning to come to life with the weekday morning traffic. 

 “How long have you been staying there Ella?” Tae asked, recognizing Mrs.Rita's establishment.

“I’ve actually been living there for about 3 years now. It’s a dump, but I’m broke, so what can you do.” you offered tiredly as you leaned against the window unphased by your new nickname. 

Throughout the car ride, Taehyung’s names for you went from Cinderella to Ella, to El. Jimin stuck with calling you Princess, however, it didn’t feel like an insult coming from his lips.

Throughout the ride, Jungkook and Tae had done an excellent job of calming your nerves and keeping you distracted. Tae had been going on and on about which coffee shop was the best one, and you were pleased when he agreed that your favorite shop served the best dirty chi in town. 

‘Tae has a talent for finding everything dirty in this town’ Jimin had teased before receiving a smack on the shoulder from the younger.

You think you might have heard Tae ask a follow-up question, or perhaps he was talking to Jungkook as you listened to the rumble of his response. But all you could focus on were the manicured lawns of the east side and fighting the heavyweight of your eyelids against the morning sun.

“Ella,” Jungkook sang lightly, giving your shoulder a small shake. 

You blinked blearily at him as your surroundings slowly came to focus, and you remembered where you were. You sat up with a gasp, immediately cursing yourself for falling asleep in a car full of strange men. 

“Your castle awaits Princess,” Jimin offered as they rolled up to the complex, and you realized Tae was no longer in the front seat next to him. He must have gotten dropped off on your way to the Westside. 

You looked around in shock. They really didn’t kidnap you. 

Jimin let out a startled laugh and you realized you accedntly voiced your surprise. You flushed and thanked him for the ride while Jungkook slid out the car rushing around the back and opening the door to help you out, ever the gentleman. 

“I wanted to thank you… again” Jungkook said shyly as he walked you to your door, you hand on his arm as if he truly were escorting a lady.

“I- its no problem.” You said, unsure of how to go on with the attention. 

“Why didn’t you tell them my real name?” you asked as you ascended the stairs. 

“I didn’t want to violate your privacy like that, you were in a car full of strange men. That’s stressful enough” Your heart warmed at his kindness. 

“But you walking me to my door and knowing where I live should put me at ease?” you challenge as you came to a stop in front of your apartment. Jungkook flushed as he looked around, noticing just how exposed the complex is. He didn't like that the area wasn’t gated, and the entrances were outside like a cheap motel. 

“I suppose I didn’t think that through” he shrugged.

“Just remember I have pepper spray, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He chuckled before you both fell into an awkward silence, not knowing how to say goodbye, and for a brief moment, you realized neither of you wanted to. 

“Well, I better-”

“Yeah yeah definitely,” he agreed, scratching the back of his neck. 

“You have a good night or morning,” he offered with a smile as you unlocked your door and parted ways. 

-----------

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you remember when your alarm went off at 10 a.m. and deciding you were going to skip your classes and sleep in. 

You were in need of a ‘mental health’ day more than ever after the night-morning, you had. It was near 2 p.m. when you finally cracked your eyes open. Hunger and the need to relieve yourself finally dragging you from your sleep. You stumbled aimlessly as you took care of your body’s needs and even entertained a shower. 

 But after the shower, you were at a loss. You didn’t know what to do of yourself. At one point you checked your temperature to try to determine if it was all a fever dream, but the gauze on your hands and the bruise on your cheek confirmed you did, in fact, whip a thugs ass last night and got your own ass handed to you as a result. 

After further investigation, you found that your left boot was still missing and wondered if you could find it if you searched for it on your way to work in the evening. 

After an hour of contemplation, you decided you had to move on with life. One night of adventure wasn’t going to change your reality. 

You were still a student in the throes of pre-med school, you still have responsibilities and assignments. And while last night’s adventure will be a great tale to share with some friends over drinks at the pub on Friday night, it was Wednesday afternoon, and you still had assignments to do. 

You set up you work space telling yourself you wouldn’t put more than three things on your to-do list this afternoon. Before you decided you much rather water your plants and clean your apartment then attempt to study. It was a mental health day after all. 

You indulged in putting on the old jazz record you dad mailed you for Christmas your freshman year. At the time, you didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t even have a record player, so you put away a little money for every paycheck until you could find a cheap used one at a rummage store. 

You're sure the quality isn’t the best. Still, you’re also sure you have never heard a more beautiful sound than the day you finally dropped the needle on the disk and listened to the familiar tune.

And while you have since gotten other records, this one remains your favorite, because it always reminded you of home. You were singing along in a terrible impression of the musician, for your own entertainment as you made your bed and finally put away the pile of clean laundry you had been cuddling on your bed for the pst two weeks. When you heard a rapid knock at your door.

You called out as you made your way to your door, surprised by the unexpected guest. 

Perhaps your music was too loud. Perhaps your singing was too loud and your neighbors wanted to complain. You were mortified by the thought. 

You opened the door apology on your lips when you saw nothing but the covered the breezway. Perhaps it was some brat pranking you, you thought to yourself bitterly. But as you went to close your door, you saw a small parcel sitting on the ground outside. Picking up the box there was a small note attached that merely said:

For Cinderella: Thanks :)

Taking it inside, you opened the box carefully to find a shiny new pair of black boots. Much finer than the ones you owned before. The leather was soft and polished, and the laces were crips. And dare you say, they were much more fashionable than your old pair. Curiously you tried them on to find that they were your exact size. 

-------------

The Bangtan family believed in life debts, it was one of the few traditions that they valued enough to maintain and honor. If someone were to save a member's life, that person no matter their class, status, or gang affiliation, was added to the ‘No Harm List.’ A very short but sacred list of individuals the Bangtan family went out of their way to protect and ensure the safety of from their gang as well as any others in the area. 

The life debt was not paid by just the member who was saved, but the entire family. And while no life-debt could be valued more than another, the entire Bangtan family was quickly made aware of the new princess of the lower west side. Rumor spread of Cinderella and how you saved the maknae, heir to the family dynasty’s life. 

“I don’t think this counts as paying your life debt,” Suga sighed as he put the car in park in front of your apartment complex.

“I’m not trying to pay it off! You can't do that. This is to thank her, now please go set it by her door. She can’t know it was from me!,” Jungkook pleaded to his elder.

“Who else would buy her shoes?” the elder challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Jungkook didn’t reply but merely stared at him pleadingly, his doe eyes reflecting the cosmos. 

Suga sighed as he unbuckled his seat belt thinking of 100 more important things he should be doing right now before making his way up the concrete stairs to your apartment. He heard soft jazz music seeping through the door, accompanied by a terrible impression of Louis Armstrong. Which made him huff with laughter as he set the package down and knocked on your door, pulling his cap down as he strolled back to his vehicle. 

-> Pt. 2

#jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts gang au #bts mafia au #btsghostie #gangster hoseok #gangster jimin #gangster jungkook #gangaster taehyung #drug dealer taehyung #orginized crime au #bts fanfic #gangster suga #gangster yoongi #ganagster namjoon #gangster seokjin #violence #crazy4myself fic #No Harm List #bts series #bts college au #gangster rm #gangster jhop #cinderella #med student x jungkook #bts imagins

[kitkat1003]

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least.  Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him.  Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean.  Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision.  For one, he refuses to admit why.  Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.  

He needs a successor because he wants one.  Who doesn’t want to retire?  It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return.  No, he’s been...super busy.  Yeah.  Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do.  He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out.  Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up.  He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy.  He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor.  Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff.  So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing.  Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow.  Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human.  Why they have to be mortal.  Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass.  He gets lax, when looking for a successor.  Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is.  It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past.  Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears.  “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking. 

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans. 

“But hey, managed to save you, huh?  I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning.  Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements.  What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live.  You can still see it, though!  C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall.  There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur.  He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere.  He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid.  Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop.  Pigsy’s?  The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes.  The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money.  They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation.  It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point).  Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine!  I wouldn’t want you to end up like me.  Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.  

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying.  Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things!  I can take care of myself!  Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine.  But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.  

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains.  “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles.  This one is smaller.  Less performative.  Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see.  Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath.  The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse.  Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack.  Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money.  Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped.  Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel.  It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick.  Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop.  Slowly, he accrues random objects.  Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics?  He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh?  Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep.  Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this.  Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go.  He ought to look for his successor, anyway.  He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He can’t find a successor.  Somehow.  It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it.  Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business.  The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site.  Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face.  He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever.  Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff.  They certainly seem confident.  He’s kind of curious, kind of bored.  The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude.  Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area.  Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.  

This is going to be hilarious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it.  The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center.  Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain.  After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much.  Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point.  He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant.  Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him!  If he could frame a memory, that would be it.  Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while.  Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that.  Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh.  Why is being a teacher difficult?  It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him.  He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really.  How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own.  A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this.  The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself.  The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him.  The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile.  He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control.  A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it.  A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved.  Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility.  He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes.  Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn’t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers.  He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share.  To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day. 

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince.  The body becoming invulnerable takes time.  It doesn’t just immediately show up.  Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen.  Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks.  Monkey Kid, huh?  It suits him.  And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous.  How come he never got a mech?!  Has that been a thing this entire time?  Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends.  Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it.  He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore.  A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready.  Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid.  He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid mk #monkie kid monkey king #sun wukong #kitkat1003 #monkie kid mei

[sparrowsabre7]

Ok this was in my drafts from ages ago and I forgot to post so it’s here now: 

So with Arkham Knight completed I wanted to discuss the story and some of the things I liked about the plot.

For my money Arkham City is the most entertaining of the series plot-wise. It is wide in scope, incorporating a large group of Batman’s rogues, with a lead villain who has a commanding presence. It is the quintessential Batman plot, full of twists, focusing on his dynamic with the Joker and is a big ‘ol actionfest.

Arkham Knight’s plot on the other hand is quite pedestrian by comparison looking at the villain plot: Scarecrow wants to take down Batman and cause chaos in Gotham and a mysterious new villain appears to help. From this standpoint, Arkham Knight is nothing special. However, as a character study of Batman, it goes much deeper than any of the previous games, and deeper even than any of the films. Most of those dealt with “Why does Bruce Wayne become Batman?” whereas Knight asks the question “What does it mean to BE Batman?”

In this respect “Be the Batman” is more than just a marketing tagline. We really delve into what makes Batman and Bruce Wayne tick and their relationships with the world, their allies, and enemies.

We’re going to delve into big spoiler territory now so be ye warned.

Batman in this game is in an interesting place. Crime is supposedly lower than ever when Scarecrow’s plan starts falling into place, yet he’s hitting criminals harder than ever, working tirelessly in his war on crime. His modifications to the Batmobile make this immediately apparent, adding numerous heavy weapons and armour. One of the unlockable Arkham stories indicates that adding more weaponry has been something Batman has fought for years, according to Lucius, but he had a change of heart some point between City and Knight. We learn soon enough that Batman is on borrowed time. His blood is still infected with Joker’s own and is actually beginning to turn him. This is his last assault on crime, one final push if a cure cannot be found. As a result, he is pushing his allies further away than ever. This alienation was seen in a small way in the epilogue DLC “Harley Quinn’s Revenge”, keeping Robin at arm’s length and mostly avoiding contact with his allies entirely.

This is one of the key themes of the whole game and, personally, if I were to choose one word to sum up Arkham Knight it would be “family”. “Asylum”, “City”, and “Origins” were all solo efforts on Batman’s part, with some input in his ear from Oracle and Alfred, and a brief appearance by Robin. This is the first game to really have the Bat-family on board proper and this really informs a lot of the game and Batman’s motivations.

He pushes them away because he knows he’s dying. He pushes them away because he wants them to get used to the idea of him being gone. Most importantly, he pushes them away because he believes this will keep them safe. This is underlined when Scarecrow’s fear toxin kicks in. Thanks to the hallucinations provided by it, we are shown two of Batman’s greatest failures in his eyes, along with his raison d’etre: the crippling of Barbara Gordon, the torture and murder of Jason Todd, and the death of his parents. The former two are clearly never far from the dark knight’s thoughts and show why he genuinely does fear for his allies safety. This ends up, in the obvious ironic twist, putting them in greater danger. By keeping them at arm’s length and withholding his plans, the Batman is a less effective force. He doesn’t consider that they are safest together, working as a team. His allies come to his rescue a couple of times during the course of the game, Nightwing saving him from Penguin’s thugs, Catwoman saving him from an unwinnable fight against The Riddler, Oracle aiding him during the defence of the GCPD and Robin not saving him per se, but defusing some of the Johnny Charisma’s bombs while Batman is unable to move.

Another key subplot is Batman vs Joker. Even after his death, through his blood and the fear toxin, Joker is resurrected as a hallucination, a dark Jiminy Cricket pestering and needling the caped crusader at every turn. This is the ultimate Joker, no less potent for not being “real”. He represents everything Batman hates and fears, because he is not only The Joker, but the darkest parts of Batman’s mind, all the what ifs, the maybe should’ves, all of this tumbles out of Joker’s mouth, taunting the dark knight with his own insecurities. It shows Batman’s human side a lot more than any previous game, shows he can be afraid, he does have doubts, can fail, can falter. This is something which clearly plays across his mind throughout the game and leads him to the ultimate conclusion of the game which I will touch on in a bit.

The Joker has always been key to the Batman mythos. He was that in Batman #1 so nearly as long as the Batman has been in existence. Having him manifest as a facet of Batman’s subconscious is both a neat narrative trick (and way to skirt the “Joker is dead” thing without cheapening the end of “City”) and a useful dynamic in explaining who Batman is. Much of his existence has been spent battling The Joker and it’s clear that there is a side of Batman in “Knight” that almost misses him in a sense. His presence also plays up the yin-yang of their relationship and eventually culminates quite literally in a battle in Batman’s psyche.

Near the game’s ending Scarecrow unmasks Batman and injects him with a heavy dose of fear toxin. This causes Joker’s personality to be brought to the fore but at the same time empowers Batman’s own power of fear, showing the clown prince of crime his own greatest nightmare: being forgotten. This is ultimately delivered personally by Batman, bursting from the shadows of his own mind and subduing the Joker side, locking him away forever, enforcing this with the time tested phrase “I am vengeance, I am the night, I am Batman.” This is said, as another blogger pointed out, as much to himself as to The Joker. This is a declaration that he is Batman, he is no longer Bruce Wayne. To paraphrase “Batman Begins”, as Bruce Wayne he can fail, be killed, and simply die, which is when we come to the ending.

Upon the final villains being rounded up he initiates the Knightfall protocol and removes his mask. This is a clear symbolic gesture as he is leaving Batman behind on the rooftop with the Batsignal and reverting to Bruce Wayne. He flies back to Wayne Manor and it explodes, destroying the whole building. It’s not made explicit but it’s fairly evident that Bruce has faked his death, very publicly killing Bruce Wayne, now that he has been revealed as the alter ego of Batman. Gordon’s narration states that “this is how the Batman died” but it’s really how Bruce Wayne died.

The final scene shows Thomas, Martha and young Bruce Wayne stand-ins walking down an alley past a theatre, visually recreating Batman’s origin. There’s a gunman, there are broken pearls, this is the birth of Batman as we remember. This time however, Batman already exists. A shadow appears on the rooftop behind the criminals, towering high before spreading shadowy wings and fiery demon eyes alighting as it swoops towards them and cuts to black. It’s clear this is more than a symbolic statement as the criminals react to this “Knightmare” and are clearly terrified. Ultimately it’s up to interpretation, but I think, either it is The Batman in his purest form, shed of the Bruce Wayne identity, free to be more than human (with the use of Scarecrow’s fear toxin apparently), or it simply a psychological manifestation. After Scarecrow’s gas flooded Gotham’s streets, perhaps the residual effects left a lingering memory of Batman that was burned into their consciousness.

Either way it’s a true and final realisation of Bruce Wayne’s goal for the Batman. To become something eternal, supernatural even, that will watch over an protect

#batman #arkham knight #games #arkham trilogy

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 7

Support | Carrying

Ao3

Warnings: Gunshot wounds, blood, canon typical violence

-o-o-o-o-

Here was the thing about fighting crime in Gotham. Well, or just fighting crime in general. Sometimes things just went wrong and there was nothing you could do about it. You could be the most powerful superhuman in the world, or the most skilled martial artist, or have a reputation to the moon and had the documentation to prove that reputation wasn't complete bull. 

No matter who you were, sometimes you got hurt from a dumb thing. A thing you could have avoided. A thing that you most certainly will beat yourself up over in the coming weeks. 

Sometimes a stray bullet just happened to ricochet juuuuust right off the concrete walls and into the back of your hip while you were fighting crime in the streets. 

When Jason felt the intense pain of the aforementioned stray bullet entering his flesh, it took every ounce of will power he had to not cry out or fall down. 

"Hood!" 

He heard Nightwing call his name. The idiot practically begged for tonight's brotherly bonding session and Jason wanted nothing more than to look up and glare at him. Saying: "let's patrol together, Jason! It will be fun , Jason!"

He didn't for a number of reasons. Mostly because he couldn't say his real name out loud; though he supposed he could say 'Hood'?. Anyway, it was also kinda because he had his helmet on and it was sorta hard to glare through it unless he had the helmet literally sculpted into a glare. Partly because the pain was muting even though the bullet couldn't have gone that deep. It should have lost power while bouncing off the stone bricks, and the material of his jacket and under armor should have stopped it a little . All the way if it hit right. But it didn't hit right. Somehow, it came at him in that very specific angle that Kevlar didn't like. 

He had a bullet in his hip. He could feel warm blood pouring out of a hole in his body, trickling down the back of his legs and ever so slowly becoming painfully stabbing. 

So while Jason wanted to joke, look up at his dumb older brother and tease that this is why they don't do things together, it was all he could do maneuver his arms so he didn't faceplant when his hip eventually gave out. 

And oh yeah. The pain was definitely settling in now. It forced his eyes to widen and tear up, his hands to clench, his arms to twitch as his body desperately tried to figure out what to do without his consent. He wanted to grab at the wound, which was good right? Stop the blood flow? But it was at an awkward position behind him, and he was sure there were still thugs in the alleyway; he kinda really didn't want to be seen clutching his ass in front of them all. 

So he sorta just... laid there pathetically, hating how a simple patrol turned out like this; with Jason laying in a growing puddle of his own blood.

This was Dick's fault. Jason was sure. When he got the medical treatment he needed, he was definitely going to hold this above Goldie's head for the rest of time and eternity. 

Although, quicker than what he expected, Dick was by his side with eyes comically wide behind his mask, hands hovering over Jason like he wasn't sure what to touch or where to apply pressure. Jason had just the presence of mind to remember that he was hit by a ricochet bullet, shot in the back by a projectile that should have, by all means, missed. Dick wouldn't have seen him get shot, just the aftermath. The poor idiot was babbling like a soaking wet domesticated house cat, probably thinking he was shot somewhere much more important than his rear end. Like his heart or something. 

"Hip-" Jason gasped, and then groaned when hands immediately landed at the area just to the side of the small of his back. It hurt like a bitch, that was for sure, but it really couldn't have gotten that deep. It probably just entered him at an angle instead of straight on. More torn flesh that way. And Jason knew from experience that the pain of a wound didn’t necessarily correlate with how deep the said wound ran. It could be how long it was. How gaping. How beaten and bruised. 

It seemed silly to drop from a wound such as this. He could hear Dick muttering about how it didn't look horrible and that Jason probably didn't need a hospital and most likely didn't get hit in the bone, but it still hurt. A lot. 

He sucked in a deep, lungful of air, then forced his head to turn towards where they had been previously fighting a group of thugs who thought they could mug some beanpole old man. Confusion washed over him slowly. The thugs… they were so determined to fight Nightwing and Red Hood when they showed up. One of them was even bragging about having fought one of the bats before. Which Jason doubted. They probably ran away from whatever illegal activity they were doing before the bats actually arrived, but put that little white lie on their criminal resume to get hired for big gigs more easily. If they'd fought a bat before, they wouldn't be so excited to fight them again. 

Regardless, the guy was excited and trigger happy, even after the man they were trying to mug managed to escape. You could probably guess who managed to get a one-in-a-million shot on Jason without having to be told.

That all added up to why Jason was confused at this moment, laying on the ground, hands on his back that pressed down with way more force than Jason thought necessary. The alley was empty. Not a thug in sight. No unconscious bodies with hands restrained and a note taped to their foreheads for the cops. Nada. Goose Egg.

"Wh- where-?" Jason tried, but talking made everything hurt . 

Thankfully though, Dick knew what he was trying to ask. "They ran off after they realized they shot you. Got cold feet."

Jason opened his mouth, but ground it shut as Dick increased the pressure with one hand and removed the other to probably get some bandages going. Jason just breathed for a moment. Catch his breath. Bring the focus of his attention away from the hole in his back to return to the matter at hand. 

When Dick pressed a thick sheet of cotton over the wound, Jason knew the next few minutes would be agonizing; as Jason would soon be sat up to allow bandages to be freely wrapped around his hips and stomach. He opened his mouth before Dick could begin the process and forced the words out.

"You let them run?"

"Of course," Dick grumbled, and Jason wasn't sure if he said it as a “ yes Jason, because I love you I let the enemies go so I could take care of you !” or a “ of course you'd ask this, geeze, so annoying…” kind of way.

Jason was offended either way. 

When Dick forced him up so he's sitting and leaning heavily against the older hero, he was positive he saw stars. Bright, flashing starts shining through the constant murk that was Gotham's sky. Or maybe he was just in intense pain. 

Oh well. 

Dick wrapped the wound—working with way more clockwork and practice than what any normal person without a medical degree should be able to do—then, at the count of three he lifted Jason by grabbing the arm of Jason's good side and wrapping it around his shoulders. Jason could barely contain a yelp as he was lifted to his feet. His hip screamed at him, trying to get him to fall back down and just lay there. Probably just die there. He had to force every ounce of his willpower into moving his good leg, dragging his bad one behind him, as Dick struggled to carry his weight out of the alleyway. 

Not so happy to be small and quick now, huh Grayson? Rethinking those offers Jason had made months ago to teach you how to go make more muscle and maybe even get a little taller? Pathetic. Can't even drag Jason's injured ass out of an alleyway without breaking a sweat on your forehead. 

"M'not that heavy," Jason grumbled anyways though when Dick began to release small, panting puffs of air.

"You're heavier than B," Dick wheezed, "so shut the fuck up."

Jason lifted an eyebrow under his helmet. He was sure Dick could sense his amusement, if the twitch of his lips were anything to go by. "How do you know how heavy B is?" 

"Oh you know," Dick said in a mock-sigh, his voice almost singsong, "I'm always saving everyone's asses. Drag each of you to a med bay at least once a month. Did you know Orphan is heavier than Red but not as heavy as Spoiler?"

"Do you want Orphan and Eggplant to kill you?"

Dick let out a bubbling laugh, which made Jason wonder if Tim, Cass, then Steph was really the order of that scale. Jason wouldn’t linger on it for long though, because they've finally made it to where they've parked their bikes. Jason immediately began to plan on how he was going to ride to his nearest house without passing out in Gotham late-night traffic. The dead-hours of night always brought out the best and worst in Gotham drivers. He'd have to manage. He did it before. 

However, all of his plans suddenly flew out the window as Dick disregarded his own blue and black bike and proceeded to try and force Jason into the passenger seat of his own bike. 

"I can-"

"I'll cuff you if I have to Hood," Dick snapped, though there was mirth and amusement in his tone. "I'm driving you."

"You're not ," Jason grunted though clenched teeth as he inevitably lost the battle with Dick and was forced into the passenger space. "You're gonna take me to the manor if I let you drive."

"Yeah?"

" No ."

Dick sighed then stepped away from the bike, planting hands on his hips as he gave that disappointed older brother pout he'd been working on and improving for the past decade. It worked on most everyone except Jason and maybe Cass. Jason was immune to the Older Brother Pout™. Still didn't stop Dick from giving it. 

"Little Wing, you have a bullet in your back."

"Woah, thanks for telling me, I didn't know!" 

Now Dick looked a little annoyed. Good. "Jay-"

"No," Jason snapped, desperately wanting to stand up and cuss him out like he deserved. "We'll go to my safehouse."

"What one?" Dick argued and angrily Jason threw his hands in the air on instinct. 

The action sent bolts into his back, making his brain short circuit as his body tried to figure out if it wanted to bend forward or back. In the end, it didn't matter, because like the absolute bastard he was, Dick used his pain as a distraction to jump onto the sitting space in front of him. He turned on the engine and Jason felt himself go boneless, the pain of the wound on his back ate up his energy more violently than a crocodile. His metal helmet slammed against Dick's back, and when he felt the bike jolt with motion, he angrily, carefully, and reluctantly wrapped his arms around Dick's waist. 

"'ny of them," Jason mumbled, blinking blurry shapes from the corners of his eyes. "Ju's don' take me t'the manor…" 

"Alright," Dick chimed, revving the engine. He sounded too happy about something, but Jason was too focused on holding on and ignoring the pounding hole in his back to question it too much. 

Dick drove with more caution than what he normally did. Jason had ridden with Dick on bikes and in cars before, and the guy is borderline psychotic while driving. Jason supposed it was because his adrenaline junky tendencies mixed with the famous Blüdhaven road rage to create a man to be feared on any sane roads. Or as same as Gotham got. Jason swore Dick was always on the horn, always looking for that split second window to speed up and get to where he wanted as fast as possible. He wasn't a dangerous driver, just one that wasn't one to trifle with when in the zone of driving. Yet now, while the speed was fast and the spaces between cars was utilized to get the cycle through quicker, there were hardly any other risks involved. No running lights, no cutting it close between cars, no sharp and split second turns. Everything was calculated and smooth, and Jason made a mental note to mention it to him later. 

So you do know how to drive?

With the hum of the engine and the warm body in front of him, it became rather difficult to keep his eyes open. A weary cloud had slowly begun to settle around him, probably not because of any blood-loss but because of falling levels of adrenalin and perhaps mild shock. He squeezed his arms tight around Dick's chest—he silently promised that if Dick mentioned this as a hug he would lose it—and let his eyes fall shut. He would just rest them… for a little while. He had a long night ahead of him. One of digging out a bullet and stitching the wound shut. He should guilt trip Dick into going out to buy ice cream or takeout chinese later.

And thankfully, focusing on the sounds around him by having his eyes closed helped him ignore the pain. Well, not all of it. It was there. Just… muted. 

He could relax to this. 

It was a pity all the peace and relaxation left the moment the bike suddenly dipped in altitude, the sounds of the city becoming the seemingly endless echoes of the bike itself. Jason snapped open his eyes, recognizing the dark tunnel around him. A growl escaped his throat. 

"Dick," he hissed. Or well, grumbled. His voice was slurred and definitely sounded as tired as he felt. 

"Yup?" Dick replied like he was innocent. Jason will kill him. 

"Safe. House."

"Yup." He popped the "p" on that one. Alright. Jason will definitely kill him. 

"This isn't my safe house," he growled, putting as much force as he could into each syllable. " No manor."

"Kay," Dick hummed, "but I don't know where any of your safehouses are. So I thought, Jason doesn't want the manor, so where's the next best place?"

"The manor includes the cave, Dickhead!"

"Y'know, everytime you insult me with my own name it just gets more and more sad."

Jason wanted to scream. "I'll show you what's sa-"

The tunnel opened up, revealing one of the last places Jason was in the mood to be at. The Batcave was just as large, impressive, and condescending as ever. Dick came to a stop near where the rest of the vehicles in the cave were parked, killed the engine, then stuffed the keys into his gauntlets so Jason couldn't snatch them and drive away in a pain filled haze and probably crash in the straight and narrow tunnel used to get here. Dick looked up from the bike, smiled, and waved. 

Jason wanted to shoot something. With rubber bullets, don't worry, but he still wanted to shoot something. 

Of course Batman and Robin couldn't be out in the city right now. Of course they were right here, a good distance away near the batcomputer, both standing up to curiously regard their guests. 

"Don't tell the truth of how it happened," Jason said quickly.

Dick scoffed and dropped his hand, using the other to tear off the edge of his mask. "I don't even really understand what happened-"

Jason glared. "Just make me sound cool, alright? I have a reputation. Can't have them know I was taken out by street level thugs."

"Don't worry, Jay," Dick assured, jumping off the bike and grabbing Jason's arm again, grunting under the weight to eventually help Jason to his feet. "I'll make sure your ego isn't bruised."

"Ya better."

"Richard," came the voice of the most tater tot boy to ever tater tot. "… Jason." There was only one kid that could say someone's name like it was a poison that tasted good. Jason looked up from where he'd been focusing on his feet to see the kid had ran up to get ahead of the big man.

He grinned wickedly, because he loved watching the kid be a little unnerved by him. Not in a rude way. Just in a " hell yeah, little man, I'm your second eldest brother and you gotta respect me " kinda way. 

"Hey, short stack," Jason waved half-heartedly as Dick began to guide him over to the medbay. Alfred, who was standing by the computer, looked Jason up and down, sighed, then walked over to the medbay as well. "How's the cow? Ready for the grill yet?"

"Batcow is fine," Damian replied civilly. Jason wondered why that was. Normally the kid was ready to throw down at the slightest tiny itty bitty inkling of a suggestion of cooking any of his pets. Jason wasn't even subtle about it this time. And Damian also had issues with comments of his perfectly normal for a thirteen year-old shortness. Jason honestly expected reddening, bloating cheeks and narrowed eyes. Instead, Damian looked him up and down, his green eyes calculative and his posture looking oddly like he was trying to convince himself to say something more.

Luckily, or unluckily in many cases, Bruce came up before this odd little exchange could be explored more. 

"What happened?" He demanded in that worried-but-constipated-about-it way of his that he was always so good at.

Jason saw Dick open his mouth and he prepared himself for the coming lecture. Always be ready for an attack, Jason. Be prepared for anything. Even if the enemy is low level street muggers who barely even know how to hold a gun, Jason. Ugh. 

"I shot Jason."

Aaaand Jason now remembered that Dick was literally the worst liar in the whole entire goddamn world. Alright. Jason could work with this. 

"Yup. Dick shot me," Jason agreed, probably enjoying Bruce's frown way too much. Bruce walked around towards their backs and Jason fought a tense as a hand barely even brushed across the bandage around his lower abdomen. 

"Richard wouldn't shoot anyone, even someone as annoying as you," Damian argued, looking genuinely outraged and confused. 

"I'm sorry, Dami," Dick continued, sighing in mock apology as he continued to drag Jason closer to the medbay. "I finally snapped."

"No you didn't!" 

"I did, and I'll do it again!"

Jason tuned out the coming shouting match between a literal child and Damian. That would keep them occupied. He side-eyed over to where Bruce was walking besides them, looking torn between walking ahead to the bay or helping Dick carry Jason. It was times like these that Jason found himself more grateful than ever for his helmet, it allowed him to watch as Bruce has a whole mini crisis, trying to decide what to do with his hands, without Bruce actually seeing him paying attention to that stuff. 

"B," Jason tried, and somehow his voice carried over regardless of Damian's shouting about how Dick wasn't secretly a murderous psychopath who had been repressing his violent urges up until this point. Dick really was going to stick with that story huh?

Bruce's eyes flickered up towards Jason, looking immediately guarded. Jason knew it was a front. So he reached up with his free hand and took off his helmet. He proceeded to look Bruce directly in the eyes. 

He tried a smile, even though he really didn't want to be here in the cave right now. He'd rather be at home, watching replays of Harry Potter and stuffing his face with chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. But, he supposed, if he was going to be forced to be here via one stubborn prick of a brother, pun intended, then he was going to do his best to be as civil as Damian was a moment ago. 

He had a reputation to keep up, after all. Jason didn't get gunned down by street muggers, and he didn't lower himself below the only kid in the cave. 

"Why don'cha help out, yeah?" Jason asked, "Dick is tiny and slow and my back hurts."

Dick squawked. "I take offence to that! I might just shoot you again, Hood!" 

"Stop it Richard! You don't shoot people!"

"I can't help it, little D! The urge to shoot people is stronk ."

Damian groaned at the horrible attempt at gen z slang while Bruce slowly and almost... timidly grabbed Jason's other arm and immediately sped up the process of getting him towards the ever awaiting Alfred and the cot behind him. 

Jason tried to not focus too hard on that. Of how far they have fallen from when Jason was still young. Robin. Full of magic. 

He tried not to think about how far they have come from when Jason was stuffing heads in duffle bags. 

He just allowed Bruce to take him to the cot and gently set him down, shooing Dick and Damian away as Alfred approached with the tools he needed. 

Dick was correct in saying that the bullet didn't go in far, and Jason was right that it went in weirdly and that was why it was so painful. After an excruciating makeshift surgery and a stitching session, Jason reluctantly allowed himself to be lowered into the cot. He was all tuckered out. He was so tired from the entire night that he couldn't keep his eyes open, even though Bruce was in the same room and Jason still didn't feel comfortable being vulnerable around him. 

He might have imagined it, but when he was a sliver away from falling fully into a deep sleep, he might have felt something warm and calloused grab his hand and stroke the joint of Jason's thumb. The hands holding his own were easy to recognize. Bruce had unique hands. He might have felt weirded out by that, that Bruce was holding his hands as he fell asleep, or maybe annoyed. But like he said, he was too exhausted to really… care. 

Too tired to know if it was real. 

"I'm glad you're safe, Jay-lad," Bruce whispered. Or maybe he didn't. 

Jason was too far gone by then. 

#jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #red hood #nightwing #batman #robin #rhato #red hood and the outlaws #jin writes #fic #fanfic #whumptober 2020 #no.7 #support #carrying #injury tw #gun tw #blood tw #whump #whump tw

[darkgothamnights]

The little orphan boy

origins of robin

Batman stood atop a statue on a skyscraper looking over Gothams first silent night in months after the choas of the jokers little circus show was snuffed out by him nearly killing the bat in the process. but luckily he was stubborn and wouldnt let alfred put him on bed rest. he insisted on going out tonight because something in his gut said that this clown show wasnt over and unfortunately he was right. Although sadly there was an actual circus in town so he was on high alert double even triple checking everyone on the streets.

The night started off pretty easy not too hectic just a few street robbers here and there though after he found the circus grounds he set up some equipment to help keep watch while he patrolled the city. Batman knew the clown wouldn't be able to stay away from the circus or resist the chance at over taking this so called fun fest and corrupting it. However he didnt know for sure what joker was planning yet and wanted all eyes on the main attraction thats only if he could find the crime king since the circus was in town people were walking around dressed as clowns and acting goofy all of which joker would use to his advantage when enacting his plan of attacking this place. The bat sighed unsure of if he was paranoid or if his sneaking suspicions were right. worriedly he thought he might be over thinking it but when he saw a little boy no older than 3 or 4 waddle over to his parents who were helping his siblings get ready for their assumed trapeze act he gave a small rare smile. Batman felt that even if he was wrong and joker really has gone silent he would still protect this family and this circus with all he had. because that is what he does, thats what heroes fo even if sometimes he didnt feel like a hero. the bat left with the thought of that happy family in his mind and one goal for the night which was to help the circus last the night untouched and emergency free. however a strange group of well dressed clown mask wearing thugs made him feel on edge.

The thugs strolled into the circus and sat down to watch the show that the family of trapeze artist were putting on as their little three year old watched from the side lines in the arms of the ring leader. batman watched as the son and daughter mirrored the mother and father during the act while also keeping an eye on the crooks. but what he didn't see is joker and his goons outside with guns locking down all the exits of the circus to rob the civilians inside. Fortunately batman knew this building very well so as soon he saw joker he snuck backstage knocked out the two henchmen guarding the electric box then he shutdown all the lights. However he didn't know that would cause joker and his men to start firing randomly and killing everyone around them. the bat did what he could but when the emergency lights came on jokers men laid on the floor knocked out by batman and all the people sat bloody and dead in their seats. Turning around he could see on stage the circus trapeze act was the same, nothing but a bloody mess. batman felt liked He failed because he couldn't save them. He couldn't stop their lives from ending that night in a bloody hellfire that could have been prevented. Bruce sighed reaching to take off his mask but a small whimper pulled him out of his darkness. The little blue eyed baby boy stood on the stage silently crying as batman approached him. the boy seemed to be covered in blood but unharmed though batman wondered how he survived he didn't dare question fate or the luck that this one small boy had. bruce took off his mask letting the boy see his face "We are the survivors and i shall teach you all that i have learned in surviving my own tragedy" he said remembering the night his parents were shot down in the dark alley. "i promise this will not be your end, but your beginning" he stated softly as the little one whimpered he wrapped him in his long black cape. He shot a hanging Net from the ceiling then laid the baby in it as if it were a hammock making sure he was comfortable with his cape as he heard sirens coming closer "see you soon, friend" he said touching his hand before putting his mask back on to disappear in the shadows. not soon after he disappeared the cops busted in. as they assessed the scene one took the baby out as the others searched for more survivors other than the crooks who were being dragged out in handcuffs to be taken to jail for their crimes. though as he was about to slip out he heard one of the police say "hey this kids wrapped in batmans cape heh aint he one lucky kid" these words made him smile as he lept into the dark of the night.

The next day Bruce was up bright and early on his way to the court house to get custody of the boy and he knew it wouldnt be suspicious since the incident was plastered all over the news. he explained to the judge that he too had lost his family at a young age so he wanted to help this little boy and give him what he as a child so dearly missed; a father. The judge had all kinds of questions but only because he wanted to ensure that this is what bruce wanted though he was stubborn and once his mind was set there was no steering him away. "your honor with all due respect that boy would not be in better care with anyone else" he stated plainly to which the judge gave him a strange look. he sighed hoping his harsh honesty didnt lose him what he was fighting so hard to achieve "alright mister wayne i grant you permanent custody of the young boy" bruce gave a rare smile thanking the judge.

Later that night bruce stood on his balcony under the beautiful gotham night sky listening to the news from the TV that was on in his bedroom. "tonight in gotham the night seems to be quiet and still there hasnt been any major crimes since last nights shoot out in the circus" he heard the news caster say. alfred walked into the room with tea and painkillers "master wayne, are you sure you want to stay in tonight?" He asked as bruce walked towards him. "very sure Alfred," looking down into his arms at the little sleeping boy "i have better things to do tonight" he stated with a small grin.

#the little orphan boy #jason todd #robin #batman and robin #bruce wayne #batman #the origins of robin #repost cause editting

[moon-beam95]

Friends and Family

By Moon-beam95

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Ben Hargreeves x Reader

You weren't entirely sure how it happened but one moment you were being held hostage and the next you've seemed to have gained two limpets. One a sarcastic shit starter and the other an angry bad-ass with a knife kink.

You'd just gotten in from a long day of College followed by hours at work, you had just toed off your shoes when you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head and the world tilted before turning black. You came too, tied to one of your kitchen chairs while some idiot ransacked your front room.

"Ugh" your head ached like fuck "Really, what the fuck did you hit me with?"

"Shut up" the figure said slamming a drawer closed, another you hadn't seen slapped you upside the head, yeah ouch as if you weren’t in enough pain.

'In case you haven't noticed, this place is a shit hole. The most expensive thing in this place is those shiny ass boots you have on."

"I said shut it," the first man snarled.

"Wow," you said raising your eyebrows, "just trying to make a little conversation."

You tilt your head to see the other man before jerking it towards the first, as if saying get a load of this guy. "But, seriously, fuckin' moon shoes, kinda throws off the whole ascetic you got going on."

The silent one said nothing, exchanging a glance with his partner, who stalked towards you pulling out a gun.

You let out a low whistle. "Yikes, someone's a little touchy."

The man cocked the gun as two more figures appeared behind the gun roaring thug wearing black eye masks. One grabbed the first and the curly haired mask wearer moved to the silent thug.

While grateful for the save all that was running through your mind was. "How the fuck do you people keep getting in my house?"

As a fight broke out your two saviours seemed to have the upper hand as they wrestled through the flat banging into everything.

"Hey watch the TV"

"Ouch that gotta hurt"

"Careful! Blood is a bitch to get out."

The thugs thoroughly out if it, the knife toting hero cuts you lose while the other rocks back on his heels. "You know most people would be grateful."

Springing out of the chair, you ignored him pushing past. Seeing the mess you drop to the floor and gave a wail.

"Hector."

"Errr Lady, you ok?"

They crowd you wanting to see what caused such a sound only to see you carefully cradling a cactus above a broken plant pot. The curly haired one gave a laugh, but knife kink just looked extremely bewildered, before tentatively patting you on your shoulder.

"There, there," he said. "Sorry about the mess and err, your loss but we gotta go."

And with that remark they were gone and you were left with two passed out thugs gazing around a wrecked apartment, looking mournfully at Hector, wondering how the hell you were going to explain this to your mother.

The next night after a long conversation on home safety with your mother and questions by the police the doorbell rang. Opening it you were greeted by the two men from the night before.

"You," you said, shaking a finger at them dramatically.

"Klaus" said the curly haired one.

"Diego" said knife kink.

They held out a rather large plant pot containing a small cactus wrapped in a sparkly green bow.

"For you know," Diego snorted, "Hector."

You opened the door further and invited them in taking the offering cooing and saying. "I shall call you Judith." Before kicking the door closed.

That was the start of a rather strange, albeit dangerous friendship. You learned that Klaus could see the dead and that Diego despite being extraordinarily good with knives, it was not his power but could in fact hold his breath for an astonishing amount of time. Which, BTW, prompted a lot of jokes.

You three often stumbled into weird situations and you watched them fight off crime from the sidelines providing a running commentary. They were beyond cute, despite often bickering you could see how much they cared for each other. Klaus seeking any sort of thrill to hide from the dead and Diego a total mother hen, a worrier.

It was one such situation that saw you meet Ben. Who worried about Klaus' disappearing and thinking he was out scoring drugs saw the two of you and followed you intent on warning you away from his brother. Which quite frankly was adorable!

You can see why he got the wrong end of the stick, you were after all skulking around an alley in the dark.

After leaving the two brothers you began the trek home, slipping down alleys to make it quicker. You could hear footsteps behind you and sped up only to let out a shriek when a hand grabbed you, spun you and pressed you against the wall.

Eyes wide, you stared up at the Hooded Hottie™ caging you in, one arm across your neck the other above your head.  You gulped as the boy glared down at you, despite the situation you noticed that he was rather beautiful, even when looking like he was inches away from killing you or perhaps that was what made him so attractive.

He opened his mouth but paused at the sound of people running and suddenly he was wrenched from you as you gulped air. Klaus and Diego. You slid down the wall, body shaking as they stared at the boy.

"Ben," said Klaus. "What the hell?"

Ben, you thought, their brother, as Diego helped you up and dusted you off

"Why" Diego bit out when he didn't answer, "did you have Y/N by the throat?"

His eyes flickered between his brother and the girl who shifted behind Diego more, eyes wide in fear. Diego would never allow Klaus to buy drugs which meant that he had royally fucked up. He lowered his hood.

"I thought you'd gone out to get drugs."

"What" Diego said crossing his arms.

"He's been acting shifty, leaving at all hours, more hyper than usual."

Klaus laughed, slinging an arm around Ben's shoulders, tugging at his cheeks cooing. "Awe, so sweet. He cares."

Ben slapped his hand away looking at the half hidden girl, before rubbing his neck rather sheepishly.

"I'm so sorry about all that."

You stepped out, smiling. "Eh, shit happens."

He let out a laugh, grin stretching across his face. You blushed, he really was cute.

The brothers looked on in amazement at you both flirting.

"You act like this is an everyday occurrence."

"Well, when your friends with these two," you trail off, jerking a thumb in their direction. "Also a guy usually buys me dinner before we get to the whole choking thing."

His laugh rang out, echoing throughout the alley and you were gone, never knowing that the sentiments were returned.

The three amigo became four and you all often holed up in your apartment. It wasn't uncommon that you'd get home from work or school and find them there, having tea with your mom, helping make dinner, just making themselves at home.

Your crush on Ben grew and you found yourself a blushing mess often lapsing into silences. You were drew in by his rather obvious devotion to his brothers and his mischievous personality .

Unknown to you, Ben had noticed you change in attitude whenever he was around vs how you acted when it was just his brothers. He hated that you didn't feel comfortable around him, especially since he was becoming rather attracted to you.

Ben scarcely talked about his powers and you soon found out why. All four of you had just left the cinema after watching a musical (Diego's choice) when on the way to the pizza shop you came across a robbery. A rather large group if people holding up a gas station. The boys jumped into action and you stepped a safe distance away but still close enough that you still had a full view of the fight. It never ceases to amaze you how they moved so separate yet as part of a unit. You were eager to see how Ben would fit into the dynamic.

With Klaus and Diego getting quickly over run, you let out a gasp as Ben stepped into the centre of the room drawing fire. He doubled over, clutching his stomach before springing back up and tentacles burst forth from his chest. They whipped round subduing the predators. His eyes caught yours and his face went white. Now that the robbers had been dealt with you all quickly made your way from the crime scene. Slipping down an alley you all pause, catching your breath. You turn to face Ben and he shifts not looking at you.

Diving at him, his eyes go wide as you fling your arms around him, he raises his arm pulling you close. He breathes in your scent, relishing having you close. You squeal into his ear -

"That was so cool."

He lets out a relieved laugh, before you pull back and whack him upside the head.

"How could you do something so dangerous, idiot."

He stares on in shock as you rant, Klaus in the background letting out a mournful "You never say that to me."

Ben's eyes drink in your impassioned figure, admiring the fire in your eyes. Steeling himself he surges forward, one hand wrapping round your waist the other reaching to cup your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You pull back blushing in shock and he starts to apologise before you return the favour.

So there you were down a grotty alley pressed against a blood covered boy while his brothers hooted and whistled in the background.

It was about damn time.

#ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy fanfiction #umbrella academy fanfiction #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #ben hargreeves drabble #ben hargreeves #my cactus is Hector #my cactus is Judith #they are very much in love

[mexcine]

Massacre Gun [Minagoroshi no kenjū)] (1967) review:  Massacre Gun is a curious yakuza film, bereft of many of the familiar yakuza tropes one expects.  It's actually more of a generic gangster movie, with the only strong yakuza flavour coming from the idea that there is a "family honour" bond between gang members, as opposed to that of a simple crime gang where individuals are linked only by common self-interest and may defect as soon as they feel it benefits them to do so.  Otherwise, there's not a sword, a tattoo, or a missing pinky finger in Massacre Gun.  In a way, it's a mid-point between the "chivalry films" (Ninkyo eiga) of the 1960s and the 1970s Jitsuroku trend in which yakuza were portrayed as violent thugs (see the "Battles Without Honor and Humanity" series).

     The film also has a rather bizarre aspect: the three Kuroda brothers challenge the Akazawa gang, "poaching" several of the business "clients" who are receiving protection from the yakuza.  At one point, brother Eiji Kuroda says "we can take over the entire city!"  But this is patently ridiculous: the Kurodas have no henchmen!  It's literally just the three of them, against Akazawa's dozen or more.  It would have been more logical if the script simply had the Kurodas merely defending themselves against Akazawa--or even attempting to kill him--rather than trying to set up a rival gang with only 3 members.

     Ryūichi Kuroda is ordered by Boss Akazawa to execute Akazawa's former mistress, for whom Ryūichi has romantic feelings.  He kills her, but then resigns from the "family."  Shirasaka, Ryūichi's best friend and second-in-command of the Akazawa group, asks Ryūichi to reconsider but is turned down. 

     Saburo, Ryūichi's youngest brother, is a boxer whose contract is owned by Akazawa: Saburo complains to the gangster that Ryūichi was treated unfairly, and severs his relationship with Akazawa.  In revenge, yakuza thugs break Saburo's hands, destroying his promising ring career.  The gangsters also wreck the "Club Rainbow" nightclub operated by middle brother Eiji.  

     In retaliation, the Kuroda brothers "convince" some small businesses to switch their allegiance from the Akazawa gang: this gets one of the men murdered, his body sent to the Club Rainbow in a coffin also containing a bomb (defused by Ryūichi).  The owner of a bowling alley gives the Kurodas a false tip-off about an Akazawa gambling party on a docked ship; this turns out to be an ambush, but Ryūichi and Eiji escape.  Eiji begins an affair with Akazawa's current mistress.  

     Akazawa's men abduct Saburo (while he's strolling with his girlfriend through some sort of wasteland full of burning piles of trash?!): he'll be released if Ryūichi gives himself up (to certain death).  However, Eiji follows his older brother and bursts into the meeting, tossing a pistol to Ryūichi and gunning down Akazawa himself.  A short time later, Eiji is caught in his apartment with Akazawa's mistress by the gangsters.  Eiji (not much of a gentleman) pushes the young woman in front of him and she is shot to death.  But this only buys him a couple of minutes of life, as he's riddled with bullets trying to escape.

     Shirasaka takes over the gang and arranges a final showdown with Ryūichi on a stretch of deserted (under-construction) highway. Ryūichi shoots all of the yakuza from ambush with a rifle, then he and Shirasaka meet face-to-face and kill each other.  The end. 

     The action scenes in Massacre Gun are odd: everyone shoots multiple times (the ambush on the ship is outrageous, with seemingly hundreds of shots being fired but the only casualty is Ryūichi, who suffers a slight wound to one arm), but there are no bullet squibs and very little blood on the victims (this is especially notable in Eiji's death scene). 

     The character motivations of Massacre Gun range from obscure to somewhat nuanced.  Shirasaka and his wife Shino run a bar and are longtime friends of Ryūichi.  There's some hint that Ryūichi and Shino were romantically involved before she married Shirasaka, and Shirasaka--as he departs for the final showdown--tells Shino that she can trust Ryūichi if he (Shirasaka) doesn't survive.  Shirasaka, as noted above, tries to convince Ryūichi to reconsider his decision to quit the Akazawa's "family."  When Ryūichi says his decision is final, Shirasaka says their friendship has to end. 

     The three Kuroda brothers are given distinct personalities, but the characterisations are not very deep. Ryūichi's "duty" to his oyabun compels him to murder a woman he has romantic feelings for (he's even purchased an airplane ticket to help her escape); he then resigns his position in remorse.  At this point, he seems to have no plan--even when Akazawa's men brutally assault Saburo and wreck Eiji's nightclub, Ryūichi doesn't immediately retaliate.  I've seen some other films featuring Joe Shishido (he of the cheekbone implants) where he has some personality, but in Massacre Gun he spends most of the time glumly sitting around, staring into space. 

     Saburo is incensed at Akazawa's mistreatment of his older brother, but subsequently takes no active part in the fight against the gang (partly because his brothers shield him, partly because he's not inclined towards a criminal life); Eiji seems more opportunistic and hot-headed, urging Ryūichi to be assertive and attack Akazawa.  The film ends with surviving Kuroda brother Saburo running along the deserted highway towards the site of his brother's death. 

     The only other significant character in Massacre Gun is "Chico," the pianist/singer at the Club Rainbow.  Played by Ken Sanders--half Japanese, half-African American--Chico has a lot of screen time, although most of it is spent singing and playing the piano.  The Club Rainbow itself is one of the major locations of the film (the Kuroda brothers apparently live upstairs) and there are two extended dance numbers (the club's floor show): in one, a scantily-clad woman and man dance; in the second, a woman (the same woman?) does a strip-tease (possibly to full nudity, but she's definitely topless at the end).  Both of these are too long and have no bearing on the plot, unlike Chico's music, which is appropriately moody.

     In addition to the two extraneous dance sequences, Massacre Gun also includes several odd dialogue scenes between Saburo and his girlfriend.  In the first, they have a serious conversation as they zip around the bay in a speedboat!  Later, they go for a drive in Saburo's sports car, which they then park so they can walk around a landfill or something (it's possibly part of the same construction project as that shown in the finale, but in this sequence the audience sees barren sand dunes and piles of burning trees and other trash!).  I suppose these scenes are marginally more interesting than having the two characters sitting in a room or walking through a city park, but they still seem out of place (and it's never explained where Saburo got the money for a boat or a sports car). 

      Not boring or uninteresting, Massacre Gun is nonetheless unfocused and not especially stylish, well-written, or filled with fascinating characters.

#massacre gun #yakuza film #japanese cinema #joe shishido #gangsters