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bluejaysandblackbats · 2 months

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Lily of the Valley

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason Todd dies and comes back to life. As the League takes him in, he navigates his morality and family values over the years.

Chapters: 20/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul, Ra’s al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Sheila Haywood

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Immortal Jason Todd, League of Assassins Jason Todd, Protective Talia al Ghul, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd Needs a Hug, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Hurt/Comfort, Adopted Children, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Twenty: Angel's Trumpet

Upon Jason’s return home, Damian sat in the alcove window in Jason’s library, drawing the view of the garden until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Jason crept through the library after saying goodnight to Saru. He crouched beside Damian and scooped him up. Damian stirred, and Jason rubbed his back. “It’s late. We’ll spend all of tomorrow together. I promise,” Jason whispered.

“I wanted to stay up and surprise you,” Damian whispered.

“You did surprise me. I didn’t think you’d wait for me here,” Jason smiled, “I missed you when I was away.”

“You did? Did Saru come and see you?” Damian questioned.

“Yeah… Did you send her?” Jason asked in reply. Damian couldn’t lie to him. He didn’t say anything. “It’s okay. I won’t be mad.”

“I don’t like it when you’re by yourself,” Damian mumbled. Jason chuckled, kissing the side of Damian’s head. “You aren’t angry?”

Jason carried Damian down the hall to his room and tucked him in. “No. I’m glad you sent her. I’ll be back in an hour. I have to talk to Mama,” Jason whispered.

“Did you talk to Grandfather?” Damian questioned. Jason shook his head. He dropped off the file but didn’t have time to speak to Ra’s. “I’m going away soon.”

“What?” Jason questioned.

“I’m not scared,” Damian whispered. Jason climbed into Damian’s bed and held his brother without speaking. He couldn’t say anything reassuring. “I’ll be here for your birthday tomorrow.” Jason lay down beside Damian and pulled his brother into his arms. “What about Mama?”

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow morning. I want to be here,” Jason mumbled.

“Did you die again?” Damian asked. Jason blinked hard.

“What? Who told you I died before?” Jason questioned. He felt sick to his stomach. Death training was the only secret Jason kept from Damian. No one spoke of death around Damian. There was no way for him to know.

“I remember when you died for a month. I missed you so much. I wanted to go with you,” Damian replied, “I didn’t know it was death until later…” Jason shut his eyes, remembering the first time he died during training. He remembered the warmth pouring from his body, leaving him cold and weak. The metallic taste of blood as Jason vomited into his palms. He could still taste it.

“I didn’t die again… Di, as far as I know, I’m the only—.”

“I’m not a baby anymore. I’m six,” Damian interrupted. Jason would’ve laughed if he wasn’t on the verge of tears. Growing up in the League made Jason and Damian much older than their years, but they were still children. At that moment, they were both scared boys pretending to be brave for the other. Damian held Jason’s wrist in his tiny hands. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Who said I’d be worried?” Jason asked. “I’m just—. I’ll miss you. I hope you’ll miss me too.” Jason’s lip quivered, and he shut his eyes tighter to fight the tears that threatened to pour from his eyes.

“Gē? Wherever you and Mama are… That’s home,” Damian repeated. Jason nodded.

“That’s right, sweet boy… And I was wrong about something. I have some living family in Gotham, but they’re not home. They don’t make me warm. I love you, Mama, and Grandfather, more than I could ever—.” Jason trailed off.

“Gē? When I meet my father, I’ll tell him all about you,” Damian promised.

Jason pretended to be asleep, so he wouldn’t cry. Jason didn’t want to separate from Damian. All he could think about were the many ways Damian could be killed. The fantasy of home and peace quickly faded. The nightmare returned, looming over Jason like a dark cloud.

Jason awakened before Damian and pulled Talia aside to speak to her in his library. “Mama, he’s six years old—.”

“Damian’s going to be fine. He’s leaving with a team the morning after your birthday. He’s trained for this for two years. It’s not up for discussion, Jason,” Talia replied, “How did your assignment go?”

“I kissed Saru,” Jason confessed. Talia’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Nothing… I thought—. Nothing,” Talia smiled as she fixed his collar. “You look ill.”

Jason flinched away. He didn’t want to seem weak or childish. “Mama? What’s going to happen when Damian meets his father?” Jason questioned.

“He’ll learn what he can from him… And maybe Damian will return home with me. If not, he’ll stay in Gotham with his father,” Talia answered. She didn’t seem sure. “Why?”

Secretly, Jason wondered if Gotham was the safest option for his baby brother. He wouldn’t dare tell his mother that, so he opted out of answering.

“Jason,” Ra’s called. Jason swallowed hard. In the few years he’d lived on the island, Ra’s never visited Jason’s library.

“Yes?” Jason innocently answered.

“Happy birthday,” Ra’s smiled as he gave Jason a box. “I’d like you to open it before dinner. You don’t have to open it now, but you may if you like.” Jason maintained eye contact as he carefully unwrapped his gift. It was a heavy binder with several photographs. Jason broke eye contact with Ra’s to skim through the book. Talia grabbed his wrist, stopping him in time to see a picture of Willis holding Jason as a baby. Jason hadn’t thought of Willis since he was ten.

“That’s my dad… I—. How did you—? My grandmother?” Jason asked. Ra’s nodded. “How did you—?”

“That’s a surprise for another time,” Ra’s interrupted, “If I see Damian in the hallway, I’ll send him here.” He left Jason alone with Talia to look through the photo album.

Talia joined him in the alcove window, dancing her fingers through his curls. “You were a beautiful baby,” Talia whispered, “Jason… Do you ever miss—? Do you think of your parents?” Jason shook his head.

“They don’t feel real to me anymore. Sometimes, I get flashes of them, but—. My dad was in and out of prison. I didn’t see him much towards the end. There aren’t any—.�� Jason flipped through the pages until he saw one of Catherine. “This is my mom. My Catherine.” Talia placed a hand over his.

“She’s beautiful. Jason, what was your mother like?” Talia asked. He turned and looked at her. Jason didn’t like to compare his parents. “You won’t hurt me.”

“She was so funny… Mom was unpredictable and more like—. Sometimes, it felt like we were growing up together. It was fun until she got sick,” Jason whispered.

“Sick?” Talia whispered.

“Addiction’s a sickness… For Mom, it felt like a terminal illness. I watched my mom slip away, and there wasn’t anything I could do to save her. I couldn’t fix her. I haven’t thought about her in years,” Jason whispered as he turned the page. Talia reached for Jason despite her fear of rejection and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m sorry, Jason. Life has not been kind to you,” Talia whispered, “But I still—. I want you to find comfort.”

Jason smiled at her. “You’ve comforted me when I didn’t think I could be—. Mama, I’m glad we’re home together. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“There’s a whole world out there for you to enjoy, little one. You’re free to come and go as you please, but this will always be your home. Don’t let this place become a prison,” Talia warned him.

Jason shook his head. “It’s not—.”

“But it could be,” Talia interrupted.

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cock-holliday · 2 years

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Fictober22 — Day 31

Fandom: TXF

WC: 1177

Mulder had been antsy all day. It wasn’t unusual for him to be, Scully was learning, but he was antsy even for him. The nervous energy had been bristling all day, and it was beginning to grate.

A number of months into their partnership and Scully was becoming accustomed to his boisterous energy when she arrived at the office. She could barely get a greeting in before he was bouncing off the walls, turning the lights off before blinding her with the slide projector.

She’d barely had a sip of her coffee before he was suggesting flights out to god knows where.

“Mulder, the Bureau isn’t going to cover international flights…” she sighed.

“I know, I already tried,” Mulder explained, “But we could still go on our own.”

Scully heaved another sigh, crossing her legs in her chair before processing his response.

What was he thinking trying to get it approved? They’d never say yes to such a request.

“Mulder,” Scully began slowly, “We are not going to Ireland.”

Mulder let out a huff but didn’t seem deterred.

“I thought you might say that,” he replied, clicking to the next slide to show a drawing of what had to have been a joke—a large crudely sketched picture of bigfoot.

“West Virginia has—“

“Mulder, no,” Scully sighed, “Is there even a case to go with this?”

Mulder paused, “A source has a new cluster of sightings and—“

“Mulder,” Scully cut in again, “Bigfoot?”

Mulder pursed his lip, clicking rapidly through a handful of slides before landing on a picture of the welcome sign for Salem, Massachusetts.

“Hear me out,” Mulder began, not put out by Scully’s eyeroll, “Witnesses report seeing mysterious lights in a field outside of Salem. The descriptions match an X File from 1974 where—“

“Mulder, do any of these come with a crime?”

Mulder stopped.

“Point out to me where the case is in this and how we’d explain the expenses to the Bureau and I will humor you,” Scully told him, “We have cases in the DC area we haven’t closed, why are you trying to run off after things that wouldn’t get Bureau approval?”

Mulder bit his lip, looking a bit downtrodden.

Scully immediately felt like she had overstepped, and tried to retract.

“It’s the 31st, Scully,” Mulder told her quietly, his eyes twinkling.

Scully’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Halloween,” Mulder clarified, “I don’t wanna miss the action.”

Scully stared back at Mulder with a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“What?”

Mulder clicked off the projector, rushing to flip the lights back on, “It’s Halloween,” he repeated, “All Hallow’s Eve. Spooky Season?”

Scully blinked, “What does that—“

“It’s prime time for strange happenings, peculiar goings on—the unusual, the unexplained.”

“And you’re worried you’re going to…miss something?”

“Hopefully we won’t.”

“Mulder,” Scully pressed, “We don’t get off for bank holidays. This isn’t even a bank holiday. If you’re trying to find something fun to do…”

“No,” Mulder cut in, “It doesn’t have to be fun.”

Scully shot him a look.

“I’m not trying to chase gimmicks and your average holiday merriment. I’m talking about the thinning of the veil, the influence of the moon…”

“Ah, the scientific method,” Scully mused.

Mulder rolled his eyes, “Tonight is a night where strange things happen and I don’t want to be stuck pursuing just any old case.”

Scully guffawed, “How is our current case ‘any old case’?”

Mulder stood quietly before shrugging.

“Is it because I’m right and you’re wrong?” Scully asked with a laugh.

Mulder frowned, “I’m still a little right.”

Scully snorted, “How? How are you right?”

“I said that Tamison was suspicious.”

“Mhm,” Scully smiled, “And why did you think he was suspicious?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mulder replied, setting the projector control back down.

“Oh no,” Scully laughed, rising from her chair, “You don’t get out of this that easily. What did you think Tamison was, Mulder?”

Mulder shot her a look.

“Hmm?” Scully pressed smugly.

“A shapshifter,” Mulder said quietly.

“Oh yes, that was it, and what did I say?”

“Okay, okay,” Mulder groaned, “You’ve made your point.”

“No, no, what did I say, Mulder?”

“You were right, okay?” Mulder laughed, “You were right.”

Scully let her head lull back and she let out a groan, “Mm. Say that again, will you?”

Mulder huffed a laugh, “Hey, I can admit when I’m wrong.”

“No you can’t.”

“Yes I—“

Mulder paused, catching Scully’s mischievous eye.

“Fine,” he told her, flopping down at the desk.

Scully let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Come on, we’ve got work to do today, that doesn’t have to do with ghosts and ghouls. You can’t be pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Mulder pouted.

“Sure you aren’t,” Scully laughed, heading for the filing cabinet.

——

As the day drew to a close, Mulder couldn’t help feel a little deflated. The night was still young, though. He could check some things out on his own once they left.

Mulder unlocked his car but was surprised to hear Scully approaching.

“Hey Mulder,” Scully called, “Follow my car will you? I wanna show you something.”

Mulder raised a brow, “Everything okay?”

“Just humor me,” Scully told him, turning and walking back to her car.

Mulder did as told, pulling his car around to her spot and waiting for her to leave. He followed her car, his interest increasing as they left the city.

When Scully pulled into the turnoff for Prince William Park, Mulder’s excitement began to spike.

What was she doing?

Scully pulled into the lot and turned off her car. Mulder did the same. He could barely contain himself as he rushed from his car, coming to a slight skidding stop in front of Scully.

“What is this?”

“Your park.”

“How did you know I…”

Scully shot him an incredulous look, “Mulder, you’ve been talking about something weird going on in this park for two weeks now.”

Mulder pursed his lips, “I didn’t know you were listening.”

Scully snorted, “Give me a little credit. I do listen to what you say.”

Mulder paused, unsure.

“Well?” Scully asked, nodding toward the entrance.

“What are we doing here?”

Scully looked back at him with a smile, but the smile began to wane.

“You said you wanted to check out the park. We’re checking out the park.”

Scully began walking, looking back over her shoulder, “Come on.”

Mulder smiled widely, the excitement returning. He expected a punchline. For Scully to yell that he had been part of a prank. That the moment he let himself believe that Scully was indulging him he had been a fool to let his guard down.

But she hadn’t.

She didn’t believe anything would transpire here—Mulder wasn’t silly enough to think she thought it would. But she was willing to humor him. Go along with it for now.

She didn’t believe what he believed, but she knew it was important to him. She supported him already.

Mulder didn’t know how long this partnership would last, but he would take as many of these moments as possible while he could.

#txf #txf fanfic #xf fanfic #msr #fictober22 #day 31

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

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Perfect (Jason Todd Drabble)

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood

Word Count: 848

TW: Fluff, Insecurities, Reassurance, Nerves, Language, Pants Taken Off (No Funny Business)

“Jay, I’m so sorry! I swear it was an accident!” you say as you quickly lead him into the bathroom.

Your boyfriend tries to smile reassuringly at you, but it is marred by a slight wince of discomfort. The second the two of you enter the bathroom and close the door, you are on your knees in front of him, fumbling with his belt. Jason tries to help but you swat his hands away. Finally, you get the buckle undone and you quickly slide off his slacks. He lets out a soft sigh of relief as you wince at his bright red thighs.

“Does it hurt too bad?” you ask as you stand and carry his pants over to the sink.

“Nah, trust me, I’ve survived worse than a bowl of hot soup in my lap,” Jason chuckles. You hand him a washcloth soaked in cold water and he carefully dabs at his legs.

“Again, I’m so sorry. Everyone was asking me questions all at the same time and I just got a little overwhelmed. I never even saw Alfred walking towards the table when I tried to stand up.” You start scrubbing at the stain on Jason’s pants. “God, I’m usually so much better than this! I mean, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve met a boyfriend’s family, but I’ve never felt this much pressure to make a good impression. And look how that turned out.” You throw the rag you are holding into the sink.

Jason smiles softly. “You have nothing to be scared of when it comes to my family. Just because Bruce owns most of the city, Dick is a decorated cop, Tim is a certified genius, and Damian knows three different ways to kill someone with a paper clip, it doesn’t make this any different from meeting anyone else’s family.”

“Yes, it is different. Not because of all that stuff, I’m not intimidated by their achievements or skills, or the fact they are the city’s premier team of vigilantes. I’m terrified because they’re your family.” You walk over to where he is sitting on the counter, legs spread wide, and you slide between them as your hands rest on his broad chest. “Jay, I’ve never felt this way before and I’m terrified to be honest. Terrified I’m going to do something and screw this up. Terrified you’ll come to your senses and realize you can do better than me. Terrified your family won’t like me and you’ll break up with me. And I just-”

“Baby,” Jason reaches out and cups your face in his hand. “First of all, if my family doesn’t like you, that’s not necessarily a negative in my book. I really don’t care what they think, I just know you’ve been wanting to meet them. Second of all, there is no one better than you. Ever. And third of all….. I’m just as terrified as you are. Maybe more.”

Your face scrunches in confusion. “You’re not scared of anything. Why would you be scared of this?”

“Apparently the same reasons you are,” he chuckles. “You are so smart, and kind, and perfect, I still can’t begin to figure out what you see in me. And I can’t help but worry that every new thing you learn about me might be the thing that finally scares you away.”

“So…” you say slowly. “I’m scared you’re going to leave because you’re too good for me. And you’re scared I’m going to leave because I’m too good for you…. Why don’t we just agree we are both perfect for each other and never leave?”

Jay smiles and rests his forehead on yours. “Now, that my brilliant girlfriend, is why I love you.” He places a finger under your chin and draws you in for a long, lingering kiss which you wholeheartedly return.

But your tender moment is quickly interrupted by a loud pounding on the door. “You two lovebirds better not be doing anything X-rated in there. Alfred just served up the main course.”

Jason sighs as he breaks off the kiss. “Fuck off, Dick. We’ll be out in a minute.”

You hear Dick snickering softly as he walks away. Giving Jason one more small peck on the cheek, you say, “I guess we should head back out.” You grab Jason’s pants off the counter and wince. “I think I got most of the stain off, but they’re still soaking wet. Do you want to run upstairs and grab another pair?”

“Nah, I’m done trying to impress them for one night.” He pulls on his tie so it now hangs loose and crooked. And as he jumps off the counter and heads towards the bathroom door in nothing but his underwear and dress shirt, he winks at you. “Besides, Bruce is the one who made Dick and me run around the city in those stupid Robin shorts for so long. I don’t think he has much of an argument on what is considered appropriate attire.” And with that, Jason throws open the door and walks proudly toward the dining room.

#sfw repost #drabble #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #dick grayson #batman #dc #dc x reader #fluff

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in.

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”

#captain syverson #captain syverson smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson x reader #henry cavill

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sinistarz · 2 years

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Okay, time for a real post 👁

Wheeeeew its been a while. Shorter than my last break but certainly felt much longer, a lot has happened in the span of nearly two months. A lot has changed, some stress left some stress came anew. But I don't want to talk too much about that

What I do wanna talk about is that I came back to 1,100 followers?? Where did y'all come from? I appreciate it so much that even in my absence you guys have stuck around, and even grown in numbers. It means a ton. I genuinely am so thankful, it puts a big idiot smile plastered right across my face. I love it. I'm always nervous about taking a break because I worry I'm letting you guys down, I post so frequently and then all of a sudden I post lowly and then not at all, I know it can be irritating. But as much time as I spend on line there's a big world outside of it that I need to focus on. Sometimes at least

I'll probably still be a bit shoddy with activity, mostly because something happened in my personal life that I don't want to disclose too much about, but it is a very good thing and it's going to take up a lot of my free time. Like I said, trust me, it's a good thing. But that doesn't mean I'm going to hold from drawing.

I say that because, when I was running this blog, I was the most motivated I had ever been to create content. Genuinely, every single day when I woke up I wanted to draw. It was really therapeutic for me and I enjoyed it, and every time I have abandoned this blog my desire to draw goes out the window. Of course I do need to take breaks from this blog to focus on my personal life, but whenever I do I'm less motivated to create. I did create things here and there but I didn't really share them as much, mostly because I wasn't proud of most of it. But a step in the right direction is being happy about the things you make.

On that note of creativity I need to get something else off my chest. I've had a long and hard thought about coming back to this blog, I've been nervous to do so because this blog felt so "obligatory" to keep up. By that I mean it's totally became less about making art and more about posting content on a regular basis, even when I wasn't proud of it just so I could have something to post. There's a lot of you I want to make happy and it's difficult to do when I have to keep a narrow tunnel vision with content.

What I mean is, I know a massive chunk of you, if not 1,000 of you followed me specifically for DC content. And I can understand why, the whole reason I made this blog was because I got back into the nick of drawing again and DC was my main motivator. Trust me it still is a huge motivator, comic books and cartoons are some of my favourite things in the whole world, and that's something that's never going to change. But because so many of you followed me for a specific reason, I've always been nervous about posting anything relating to other topics because I wasn't sure if it would drive others away.

So I'm going to be posting art and other content relating to not just DC ( course the DC art will continue, Batman is one of my biggest interests) but a bunch of other interests as well I want to make content for.

I've been nervous to post art/content relating to other fandoms or interests because I'm worried that it would clog up the feed of people who followed me for a specific thing, but at the end of the day I don't mean to sound like a dick but this is my blog, and I want to share what I make on my blog. And I hope you guys understand that, I still appreciate you guys so unbelievably much and I cherish it always that you guys have stuck around.

Call this a fresh start for the blog, I understand some people might be upset but I want to express my creative side a lot more than before. As I said DC content will still be posted, I love posting content for it. But there's just so much more I want to make and share.

If it's any comfort I will be tagging everything I post accordingly relating to the sources it's from, so if you ever see something you don't like that I post you're welcome to blacklist the tags so only the content on my blog you want to see gets filtered in!

On that note, a very late happy New Year, and I hope everyone is doing and do as well today.

#whew #glad to have that out #anyways hi

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angelkurenai · 3 years

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Imagine Pedro being teased and questioned about how close he is with you, Gal’s adopted sister, and trying his best to hide the fact that you are actually dating.

“So, Gal, I am going to direct this question mostly at you but of course anyone can get to answer. I actually wanted to know your opinion about it.” Conan said, as Gal herself nodded her head with a smile.

“Oh, please, with pleasure.”

“There have been several photos, and I do not mean just from paps or professionals. Even you on your personal instagram posted a few. Which, to say the least, broke the internet as we all saw.”

“Yeah uh truth is my instagram wasn't working for several hours afterwards and I thought it was just me but then I kept asking others and got the same reply from everyone! Turns out, we caused a blackout of sorts.” Gal laughed, admitting to it before looking away in embarrassment while the rest of the cast nodded their heads as if almost giving her a a playful glare, even through the screen of the computer.

“And the reason behind that, who would have thought, a couple photos!” Jimmy nodded his head “Your sister, your adopted sister (Y/n), came to visit you on the set of Wonder Woman 1984. It was, for lack of better words, a historic moment not just for instagram who crashed because of the popularity of the photos but also for comic book fans worldwide. It was the closest we could get to a Marvel and DC crossover.”

“You say that because she was in her costume in some of them yeah?” Gal asked with a bright smile, always loving to talk about her little sister as Conan nodded his head “Yes, it was (Y/n)'s idea and everyone knows it, I can never say no to my little sister. Plus, she was right; we had so much fun fooling around in our costumes! I had more fun than I've ever had on a set of a movie before. And, yes, I almost always enjoy the movies I'm in, but this one- this one was truly something else! We- almost everyone, I think, played along as we acted as our characters and filmed some scenes just for laughs. I really really hope they make it into the bloopers somehow.”

“So you're planning on taking down youtube next, I see. I see.” the host nodded his head with playfully narrowed eyes, seeming all suspicious and making everyone laugh.

“No, no I swear! I don't want to!” she said in between laughter “We all had so much fun and an amazing time on set and in front of the cameras, playing superheroes that it would be incredible for the fans to see! It's- Really, it is kind of an unofficial crossover that should make it to the internet at least!”

“I'll have to-” Patty spoke up “I'll have to give it to Gal, she is right. (Y/n) had this amazing idea and creative at the same time because she had a small plot in her mind and lines and everything concerning the set. We all did a small setup and filmed it and, honestly, it came out to be real good!”

“Patty is no even exaggerating and Gal is certainly right. We had so much fun filming that small crossover, and (Y/n)'s ideas were brilliant! Fans will definitely love it!” Kristen said in addition.

“She truly is an incredibly talented, smart and creative person, besides an absolute darling. So kind to everyone and sweet, we all couldn't get enough of her. And-” Patty raised a finger “I will say it here once more because Gal has heard it before: the fastest we've filmed a scene in this movie. And it was all thanks to how professional she was, it was truly incredible!”

“Well, I can't ever deny it, my little sister is the biggest star there is! Oscars or other awards aside, she proves how great she is on every set on her own!”

“And you are definitely her biggest fan, as we all can clearly tell.” Conan pointed out with a small laugh “Speaking of, I think we do have someone who could only be described as your main rival on that sweet stop of being your sister's number one fan. Someone who hasn't been shy about expressing his admiration about (Y/n) but who has yet to utter a word.” Conan looked back up from his papers and said someone almost felt his heart jump in fear and nervousness, hoping that at least nobody noticed that he was indeed being silent for a reason “Pedro, you're being uncharacteristically quiet about this one, especially for something that caused Instagram to crash within thirty minutes of the photos being uploaded. I'm not- I'm not used to this from you. Come on, talk to me. Say what's on your mind.”

“This is oddly- I'm getting strange deja vu vibes here. Must be cause of that one time I visited a therapist. Long story short, it was only one session for me and about hm at least 25 for him. I heard he's still going to a therapist now.” he shrugged casually, earning laughter from everyone. He chuckled slightly himself, glancing over the screen of his computer while trying his best to keep anything from showing on his face even more so his smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean-” he cleared his throat “Ah man, what else can I say? The ladies have spoken, and they've said exactly what- I believe anyone that gets the opportunity to work with (Y/n) or watch her movies would agree she is one of a kind.” he shrugged softly with an adorable smile “Besides, it feels like anything I say is just going to be used against me, so I- I better keep on silently observing. That does seem like it's the safest option here.”

Pedro's laugh was more of a nervous if not awkward one, but he was pretty confident it was just no different to how he would usually laugh away questions he didn't want to answer in interviews. Most celebrities did the same, he wouldn't be the first nor the last, so he didn't expect Conan to insist any further. He didn't want to push his luck, he had been really successful (if not blessed after all these close calls) with all these online interviews to not have everything revealed by accident, so now especially with the current topic, he didn't feel like messing things up. He loved this privacy, he didn't want to lose it not yet, he wanted you and this all to himself for now. And he wanted the story of how you met, of how over that one month and a half on set he felt himself fall in love with you.

And yet... Yet, he was probably a weak man, a man who couldn't help but indulge even if he knew it could probably get him in trouble. You were worth it, though, you were worth all of it and as you were his weakest spot and so indulge he did. He slowly chewed on his lower lip and he so subtly looked over the screen of his computer.

His eyes fell on you, still splayed on his bed, book in one hand and steaming mug on the nightstand – your nightstand on your side of the bed, the thought of which made his heart flutter inside his chest – hair slightly messy, that oversized Mandalorian shirt on, which you'd gotten all excited amongst many many more fandom related toys a couple months ago and couldn't wait for him to see. A shirt which had, inevitably, ended up being taken off you barely ten minutes later starting from him stealing kisses and leading to the two of you making love till the very morning in between endless giggles. The pup you'd gotten – the both of you – not so long ago made a small noise drawing your attention for a short moment as you kept petting him, the both of you too tired to do anything else after an exhausting day of playing. Pedro couldn't complain, although he'd been a part of it he had mostly spent time filming everything even if you hadn't been the one to ask him to, he couldn't help it.

It was something that the both of you decided on and although you hadn't said it out loud, you both knew and at least Pedro hoped, that it was the next step, a very important one, in your relationship besides you moving in with him. To be responsible for another living being together was, if not a test, at least a way to see how well you could cooperate. And, if he could say so himself, you had been doing great so far.

“Good morning, darling. Here for morning kisses? Yes? Come up here.” your giggles were able to warm him more than the sunlight coming through the window “Ooooh someone really loves mommy, don't you?”

And then your words set his entire being alight. Or more specifically that one particular word.

“Well-” he stretched a bit, his arms finding your waist again to bring you closer and cuddle with you “Who doesn't love mommy in this house?” he couldn't help it as his smile turned into a lovestruck grin “Morning, mi amor.”

“Good morning, darling.” you pecked his lips “And don't worry, mommy loves daddy back, enough to make up for the rest of the world.”

As if reading his mind, you chose to look up from your book at him, smiling as you held his gaze for a good few seconds. So much love was evident, even in those few seconds, he could almost feel his own heart burst. Yet another reason for him to control his reactions from showing just how much on high on happiness and love he was. You shook your head, eyes wide as you heard Conan speak again, you playfully mouthed to him “Focus!”

As subtly as possible he tried to clear his throat and taking the mug of coffee that was beside his computer, he took a sip and decided to focus on it as much as he could. Until the subject changed, at least.

“...Wise man. I feel you, so don't worry I'll leave you to it.” if only he knew the big sigh of relief Pedro tried to hold back as Conan continued “It's the tactic I follow 99% of the time when I'm out with my wife, just smile and wave kind of thing. Alright-” he nodded his head in thought “Alright, well, let me ask you all something else. You keep saying in front of the cameras and talking about this small crossover, but I assume she must have been around for longer than that, yes?”

“Yes, yes she was there for at least a month, a month and a half I think. She was on vacation, after being done with filming, and she decided that before heading home that she'd come by and visit us. It was meant to be for a short period of time. She loved the place... the people, perhaps, how could I know for sure?” she shrugged not looking innocent in the least bit, earning a few laughs.

“Anyway-” she cleared her throat “And you see before she knew it, before we all did, one week turned into two turned into three and so on. It-” she chuckled “She was around on set and with us on all those beautiful locations we were in. And while we were all working and walking around with purpose and the need to finish this scene with so much pressure on- on our shoulders and she was just sitting around with a iced coffee or tea on her hand, sunglasses on and phone on the other hand looking she didn't have a single care in the world. It kind of made everyone a little bit jealous to be honest.”

“A little? Cause I sense that there's more than you're letting on, Gal. Come on, spill the tea.”

“Alright more than a little.” she laugh “I mean, it wasn't all the time, of course. Just the first couple days mostly but you can imagine how it was. It seemed like she did it on purpose sometimes.”

“Twistin' the knife even deeper, that's what she's best at. Oh I know!” Conan nodded his head “I'm actually afraid to invite her on the show because I fear how bad she'll roast me. Andy-” he laughed “Andy is the only one who has the most fun during those interviews.”

“I know right? Boy you tell me!” Gal exclaimed “That little shit. I adore her to no end but I really had the hardest of time when she was around. She just had to make comments on everything she could, especially when I was acting. I couldn't stop laughing sometimes, but nobody got mad at her. It was always my fault somehow!”

“I mean she's just so sweet, how could we be mad at her?” Patty added.

“She messed up so many of my scenes!” Gal pretended to be angry but her smile gave it away “But it's true, I couldn't even be mad at her. I don't get to see her that often, because of the work we both do, so I would give anything to have my sister with me like that every other chance I got. Even if I got all the blame for it, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her, you understand.”

“Aw that's- that's incredibly sweet, actually. It's- that's the exact opposite of me and my brother so no I can't really understand to be honest, but alright.” Conan laughed “Well, then, you really got your chance this time, right? You had the opportunity to spend all this time with her. When you were not working of course.”

“I...” Gal trailed off, her smile turning into a mischievous one but the rest of her expression trying to remain innocent, and failing at it because she truly wasn't even trying “Well, I would say yes. And I would agree with you. And I would even ramble about the wonderful two months I spent with my sister... If that had been the case. If I had really seen her for more than a week total, then yeah I would say that.”

“Wha- P-Pardon me?” Conan blinked in surprise “Didn't you j-just say your sister was with you on set for about two months? Or have I been in a parallel universe all this time and I just now came back to our reality?”

“Oh no it's very much our reality but I also did mean what I said. My sister was on set, and I did see her quiet often. But did I spend almost all of my free time with her? Did she spend hers with me? Nope. And that-” again with a far-from-innocent shrug “That is probably the only question I can answer. What she did? Did she have fun?... Who she was with? I wish I knew. What I know is I wasn't the one closest to her on set.”

“So you're telling me, (Y/n) was on set full of people she didn't really know, and you, her sister, barely spent any time with her? I'm gonna assume the rest of you didn't spend more time with her compared to Gal, right?” he asked and got nods from everyone, well, everyone who had their eyes on their screen and therefore looking at Conan, because there was still one that would avoid eye-contact even through the screen “Well, then, who was closest to her on set, if not you?”

“She, well-” Gal paused, smile all too sweet as she added “There could be someone...”

Said someone who couldn't even look up from his mug of coffee, as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire world, and didn't dare say a word for fearing of messing things up; even if his silence spoke volumes as it was. A silence which was... even more intense than before. Even more... real. Probably because it wasn't just in his head, probably because it wasn't just from his part.

Blinking several times, he slowly raised his head to look up from his mug and at the screen of his computer. Only to be met with the eyes of the rest of the group staring at... well, they were staring at the screen of their own computers but for some reason – a reason which he knew all too well – he felt like all eyes were suddenly on him. And they probably were. Because Gal was being nice about it but almost everyone had noticed how much time you had spent with Pedro during those almost two months. You had just met back then so they didn't imply anything back then but now... now they could just as well do so.

“I-” he laughed and he hated how nervous he sounded “Is it time to talk about my character?” he asked almost shyly, nearly praying on the inside that they would say yes and let him change the subject “Well, Max Lord is a guy who-”

“Are you trying to change the subject there, Pedro? One can wonder why.” Conan narrowed his eyes “Come on, don't be shy. Share your opinion here, or maybe your personal experience. Since I am assuming you do have one?”

“Yes, Pedro, why don't you share your opinion with us?” Gal raised an eyebrow, small smirk on her lips “You've been particularly interested in that drink the past couple minutes apparently.”

“I-” Pedro paused, before shaking his head with a laugh “This is going to be a long interview. I can tell.”

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Something I don’t think I’ve ever seen explored but that could be a possibly interesting subversion of the common conception that Dick is Bruce’s favorite, even according to his other children:

What if the things they viewed as favoritism were really just overcompensation? For instance, when Dick and Bruce started being presences in each other’s lives again after Tim became Robin, it was a gradual thing, they only slowly kind of got used to being around each other again over time. As I’ve often said in the past, my big gripe about this, and why I so intensely dislike all of that being framed as Tim being a catalyst for reuniting them, is its precisely BECAUSE of how it all played out that way, that Bruce....never actually needed to apologize or make amends to Dick or even ASK for him to come back....which compounded the fact that he’d never really ever gotten around to doing all of that because of the conflict between them for other reasons before Jason’s death happened.

And I do think a lot of that has to do with Bruce’s tendencies towards self-flagellation, though this doesn’t excuse it. I honestly do believe that it’d be perfectly in character if the reason Bruce never apologized for all that even then was because he didn’t think what he’d done WAS forgivable, so it felt....false to him, to try and ask for forgiveness. What this fails to consider though, is that apologizing, making amends, TRYING to make up for what you did to the other person.....its not about WHETHER or not they forgive you, or think they can.

Its simply about acknowledging wrong and harm done, and saying....you’re sorry. You regret it. You know it was a mistake and that you can’t take it back, but you just want them to know you’re....not unaware of the harm you caused.

After that, yeah, the ball is in their court, but if you never actually put that out there, how are they ever supposed to truly KNOW that you know that? Believe that?

How can people ever be asked or expected to grant forgiveness when its so commonly depicted as though for the people who hurt them, even just ASKING for it is harder than it must be for the people who WERE hurt to GRANT it?

But Bruce is very much someone who believes that actions speak louder than words, so I could see someone taking the angle that he tries to EXPRESS his regret to Dick in other ways, through various actions and behaviors with or around him.....which could be construed to others in the family as displays of favoritism....

Because they’d have no way or any reason to think of them as attempts at amends or expressions of regret, like they would, say, if any of those similar behaviors were exhibited around Jason - whether they were accepted by Jason or brushed off. Point being, they would GET that this was what it was with Jason, because they’re all aware Jason is angry at Bruce for very specific things, with most of them being aware what MOST of those things are (definitely not counting the ending of UTRH).

(And just pointing out here again for emphasis since its not like I tack it on as a qualifier in all my posts, but I honestly hate how frequently various parts of fandom decide one character or another is Bruce’s favorite or worse, that this is OKAY, like its not a fundamental problem if he definitively has a favorite. Of course that creates divides in a family. To me, ideally, a healthy Batfam has no favorites, they just have members of the family who are more favorite to them in SOME ways than in others.

For instance, I also dislike the idea that Damian is Dick’s favorite, but I don’t think the closeness of their relationship is threatened or mitigated by acknowledging that the bonds between Dick and his other siblings are just as strong, just in different ways. That its ‘special’ with Damian in a way it isn’t with the others because of how close they got that year Dick practically raised him, that makes the nature of their relationship different. But its equally ‘special’ with Jason, because Jason was Dick’s FIRST brother, they were each other’s first family beyond just parental figures, there’s a significance to that which doesn’t just go away, and still neither of those undervalues the fact that Tim and Dick spent years being close as the only two brothers, who had only each other and Bruce, and Bruce sometimes being emotionally or even physically unavailable to turn to making it that much more necessary for them to turn to each other, essentially, between Jason’s death and return and even after Cass became a presence in their lives, due to her usually going to Babs for the kinds of things Dick and Tim would work through together, and then of course Cass is Dick’s only sister which puts her in another category altogether, not better or worse, its simply that Cass is neither Dick’s brother nor was she ever a Robin so they have a relationship that for example, whatever else it consists of, will never be defined or threatened by any of the issues that have plagued the family when it comes to the Robin succession. And Duke and Dick’s dynamic of course is still basically just whatever the hell you individually decide it to be because hahahaha what if you wrote them interacting for more than like, one issue only, DC HMMM?

Point being - FUCK family favorites. The whole idea is stupid and toxic and IMO fundamentally incompatible with an actual healthy, functional Batfamily, so it kinda blows my mind when I see people UPHOLDING the idea of this character being so and so’s favorite or everyone knows Dick is Bruce’s favorite and Jason is Alfred’s favorite and Damian is Dick’s favorite....no. Why. Stop that. They can all be special to each other in entirely different ways for entirely different reasons. Family is not a zero sum game. And none of this means that there aren’t some of them who just GET ALONG better than they do with the others at sometimes, or like these two just tend to have more fun with each other, or this is who this one usually goes to when this happens, etc. There’s nothing wrong with that, that’s good, it just means.....things are different between different members of the family. That doesn’t have to equal FAVORITES though. Favorite to share this particular activity with? Sure. OVERALL though? Miss me).

ANYWAY.

Detour aside and circling back to my point.....say for instance the other kids see Bruce appear to be making an effort with Jason, singling him out for praise or acknowledgment....its not hard for them to imagine reasons WHY Bruce might be doing that, which don’t automatically equate to an insecure conviction that Bruce just loves Jason more than them and he’s his favorite....because there are other explanations, other reasons why Bruce might feel a need to act differently with Jason than he does with the rest of them, things unique to their dynamic. Similarly, say for instance Bruce is written making a particular effort with Damian to acknowledge him - there’s lots more angles to spin it as than just favoritism, they had a very rocky start everyone in the family is aware of, so its more likely to just read as like....Bruce making more of an effort where its already understandable to everyone else that an effort is merited.

And Bruce HAS admittedly at different times been written as very clearly making an effort and being a good father to his kids, like, the capacity has always been there of course. But there were ‘good times’ with Bruce and Jason, with Bruce and Dick, with Bruce and Tim, etc, etc. So when the effort being seen comes paired with an understandable or apparent GAP the others are aware of.....the effort is easily seen as nothing more than BRIDGING the already existant gap, rather than....advancing that one particular child AHEAD of the others.

So much of the conflict between Bruce and Dick during Jason’s time as Robin stemmed from the fact that.....there was a huge, existing gap between Bruce and Dick even BEFORE Bruce took Jason in....and there was no effort made by Bruce during that time to bridge that gap. And then Bruce took Jason in, adopted him, made him Robin....STILL while making no attempt to reach out to Dick, make amends, bridge the gap he was steadily INCREASING between both boys and their respective relationships with him....so y’know, its kinda hard NOT to see or at least understandably imagine favoritism from Dick’s POV there....

BUT, its also easy to imagine why from the other kids’ perspectives, Dick might be Bruce’s favorite or the one he’s closest with, and its not because he’s perfect or the original or anything like that, but rather just....time.

Quite simply, Dick is the one kid Bruce spent the most time with, before any of the others joined the family. He spent a good eight years growing up in the manor, Bruce’s only family other than Alfred. Its quite easy and understandable to imagine from the perspective of the ones who came later, this would translate into more closeness, more ease and familiarity, even more respect, more love......because that thing that they each have with Bruce to some degree, that makes them family, the time spent with him, the comfort or praise they’ve received from him, purely in an empirical sense, in terms of rough numbers if nothing else, Dick has had more of it. Bruce has given more of it.

Of course they’re resentful or assume they can’t measure up, in light of that. How can the mere two or three years some of them have had as Bruce’s family compete with the eight Dick had and that’s even just before any of the others came along at all.

So they look at Bruce making an effort with Dick, the way he doesn’t always do with them, they see Bruce making a point to acknowledge Dick or praise him or express he’s putting his faith in him - all the things they’re all eager to hear - and the easiest and most obvious conclusion to draw when asking themselves “why is he like that with Dick, but not with me, or at least never as much”....is that its because of that essential element Dick and Bruce’s relationship has that none of the others do.....time.

The problem is, of course.....they don’t have the whole perspective, and they’re drawing conclusions without paying proper consideration to all the possible alternatives.

Because yes, Bruce and Dick’s relationship has had more time to encompass so many of the good moments and the positives between them......but the reverse is equally true. Its had that much more time to encompass the bad moments and the negatives in their relationship as well. And this is part of the narrative trap created when not focusing on or even just acknowledging the downs of Dick and Bruce’s relationship, specifically where the burden of responsibility is on Bruce.....because it sets up a quandary - “Bruce often behaves differently with Dick than he does with his other children” - but only allows certain interpretations to be read in as possible explanations for this.

So the second you lock in the take that Bruce’s relationship with Dick has never really HAD any low moments because Dick wasn’t fired, they weren’t estranged for years (though cough cough, what’s your explanation for Bruce’s absence from major defining stories of Dick’s at the time where he really could have used some comfort or support from Bruce, like the Church of Blood or Titans Hunt BUT I DIGRESS), and NTT #55 certainly didn’t happen, then its like.....you’ve reduced the intricacies of their dynamic and past history down to only its fundamental positives, and as such are only really showcasing Bruce being more positive than not with Dick while layering in the impression that this is the way its always been.....

And not only are you giving cause to the other children looking at this dynamic and seeing only one possible explanation - whether or not its just because they’ve spent more time together, Dick is Bruce’s favorite and always will be - you’re also creating the inevitability that Dick pretty much MUST be written as equally positive towards Bruce at all times - aka appearing as the loyal footsoldier his siblings often accuse him of being, particularly when they’re having their own conflicts with Bruce and Dick is defending him - OR if you write Dick as behaving negatively towards Bruce or making complaints of his own against Bruce....who in the eyes of all the others, clearly already favors Dick more than them as is.....it makes Dick look like a spoiled, ungrateful asshole who can’t even appreciate the fact that Bruce already loves and respects him more than he does any of them, like nothing will ever be good enough for him.

Basically, as is a fairly common theme for me, lol, my point is that I think a lot of the more negative and two-dimensional portrayals of Dick in fandom come not even from writers innately or initially seeing HIM that way....but rather are just a symptom of the corners many often write themselves into simply by REFUSING to write other characters in certain negative ways....without paying consideration to the ripple effects this would have on the dynamic between both characters overall. And then more readers and fans internalize these negative and two-dimensional portrayals of Dick and add them or have them feed into their own predispositions towards any of the other characters aside from him, and it kinda creates and perpetuates this whole self-sustaining cycle, where Dick so often becomes the ‘bad guy’ in family conflicts purely because writers won’t LET anyone ELSE ever be even just more responsible for a conflict with him.

But the second you put back even just ONE of the elements often cut out from Bruce and Dick’s relationship in support of Bruce, whether its firing Dick, not trying to make amends with him the whole time Jason lived with Bruce, the scene between them after Jason’s death......

Suddenly, you’ve got another explanation for why Bruce might be making MORE of an effort with Dick at times, to show he appreciates him, loves him, is proud of him.....because Bruce fucked up, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. And this is his awkward way of trying to show and not tell, because he doesn’t think the telling is ever going to be good enough, and its not even that Dick’s too petty or spiteful to ever accept Bruce’s apology, its that because its never taken the form of an ACTUAL apology, an ACTUAL acknowledgment of wrongdoing and an attempt to make amends.....its more likely Dick not seeing it for what it is on Bruce’s part is just Dick not wanting to set himself up for more disappointment, figuring he might be reading more into it than is actually there just because he WANTS to believe its an apology of some sort, he WANTS to forgive Bruce and get back at least some of what they lost over the years.

And meanwhile, from all the other kids’ perspectives, they see Bruce clearly making SOME kind of an effort with Dick that he doesn’t always make with them, and that when he does, usually its paired with something in their mind that makes it read as “oh that’s why he’s behaving this way” rather than “oh, clearly, this is proof I am The Favored One,”...BUT having access to only parts of the picture and no clue about a lot of the rest, working off of limited evidence, there’s no real way for them TO draw the correct conclusion....that this is Bruce trying to make RIGHT something that went WRONG.....not Bruce just lavishing Dick with praise and respect and recognition any of them would kill for and he seems to get for no reason....other than the obvious one....Dick’s the first, the original, the one who has a decade headstart on all of us in Bruce’s eyes and who we thus will never be able to catch up to so why try, hey, we should totally just, stab Caesar.

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achillestiel · 3 years

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the parent trap only works if you’re identical | part seven of eight | ao3 link

Tag List: @littlerachelbee @imthedoctorlove @deancas-handprint @castiel-loves-dean @wanderermatthews @thelahatiel @priscillahc @mridzyp @multi-fandom-dark-lord @thefantasyfiend @harmonyhelms @imlivingliferightnow @kara-merlin @still-clowning-in-this-house @never-forever-more @continuezmesfilserrants @2musiclover2 @castiels-bitch @stjimmie @cmths5 @chamomilecas @syrille

“Just stay. I don’t know how but we can work something out.” Cas said. “Please.” He said pleadingly. Dean’s reply was to bring their lips back together. Cas sighed happily as they just sat on the couch kissing for a long time. “Dean, come to bed with me.” Cas said breathily, his lips hovering just over Dean’s ear. It sent a shiver of excitement through his whole body.

“Of course.” Dean replied, taking Cas’ hand as one of the phones on the coffee table vibrated loudly. Claire’s phone. Dean was about to ignore it until he saw Eileen’s name on the screen. With a roll of his eyes, Dean grabbed the phone off the table, looking down at the screen and smiling.

Hey! We haven’t heard anything from you for a while. Guessing you’re still in DC. Did you do the car thing? Gotta keep the rest of Team Parent Trap updated!

“You ever feel like your whole family is plotting against you?” Dean asked, showing Cas the screen. “Those kids are seriously doing to be the death of us if they’ve roped Eileen, Sam and Gabriel into this.”

“I think it speaks volumes that they all want to see us together.” Cas said, smiling down at the phone screen as he scrolled back up the messages. “Why are they called Team Parent Trap?”

“You...you’ve...wow. Cas, you’re lucky you’re hot.” Dean said, shaking his head. He threw Claire’s phone onto the couch while Cas flicked off all the lights downstairs. They walked hand in hand upstairs, stopping by Jack’s room and knocking on the door. Jack and Claire were sitting watching TV, looking like butter wouldn’t melt. Claire grinned smugly at Dean when she saw his hand laced with Cas’.

“We’re going to go to bed kids, don’t stay up too long.”

“And don’t even think about touching the car again.”

“We’re innocent until proven guilty with concrete evidence.” Claire said with yet another smug grin.

“Spoken like the niece of a lawyer.” Cas said, chuckling. “You may have gotten away with it if your Aunt hadn’t thrown you under the bus.”

“Dang it Aunt Eileen.” Claire muttered.

“Yeah well, we’ll talk more about your punishment in the morning. Night kids, love you both.”

“Love you too dad.” The twins said in unison. Dean grinned at them as Cas also wished the twins goodnight and headed to their room.

“I honestly don’t know whether to be proud of them or question our parenting skills.” Dean said as Cas led him not to the guest where they had slept the night before but to Cas’ room. He smiled to himself as he walked into the room. It was just so Cas. Nearly every available surface was covered with books, nick nacks from around the globe and photos of him and Jack.

“What?” Cas asked, noticing Dean’s smile.

“Twelve years and you still manage to make any room you call your own a museum of stuff. ” Dean said, looking around the room and smiling at various ornaments. “It’s like a cross between a gift shop and the library of congress.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Cas said and Dean just laughed, pulling him close for another chaste kiss. “I was serious by the way, I want you to stay come the morning.”

“Cas, I want to stay but I need to go home. For starters, I’ve been wearing the same boxers for two days but I also have a garage to run.” Dean said between kisses. “How about we just enjoy tonight and try to work something out come morning?” Dean asked. Cas sighed but nodded, letting Dean pull him in for another kiss. Clothes were soon discarded on the floor, both men losing themselves in the touch of the other.

“Dean…” Cas whispered. Both of them moments away from drifting off to sleep. “I...I love you.” he said. Dean was silent for a beat before Cas felt him wrap his arms around Cas’ waist.

“I love you too.”

When Cas awoke the next morning it was to Dean’s arms holding him close, the distance of twelve years effectively dissolved over the course of two days. Dean’s face was burrowed into Cas’ back, making him smile when he felt Dean’s gentle breaths against his skin. Cas knew their time together was drawing to a close, because even he knew that Dean needed to go back to Kansas. He didn’t want to think about it but it was inevitable. Dean and Claire would have to return home, leaving both Cas and Jack heartbroken.

Downstairs, Cas could hear the sound of laughter and clanging pots. He was warm and cosy in Dean’s arms but if he didn’t get downstairs soon then there was a high chance something would catch on fire. Careful not to wake Dean, Cas slid out of bed and dressed in a simple sweater and pants combo. From the bed Dean let a contented sigh, smashing his face into one of Cas’ duck feather pillows. Cas smiled to himself as he looked down at Dean. Even after all these years Dean really was the most beautiful person he had ever met. Another loud clang from the kitchen pulled Cas’ focus from him. He prayed that his kitchen was still standing as he hurried downstairs.

"Hey Pops!" Claire called as Cas walked into the kitchen.

"Pops?" Cas asked, glancing around the room. Pots and pans littered the surfaces

"It was getting confusing calling you both Dad. If you don't like Pops there's also Daddy-o or Padre." Claire said with a grin.

"Pops it is." Cas said.

“How long have you two been up? You haven’t been playing mechanic again have you?” Cas asked the twins.

“Not long, we’ve only just got up.” Jack said. “We haven’t touched the car, we promise.”

“I have a hard time believing that when it comes to you two.” Cas said. “What exactly are you two up to?”

“Making pancakes.” Jack said, grinning brightly.

“And yet it looks more like you’re making a mess, scooch over. I’ll make breakfast while you two try to stay out of trouble.” Cas said as he started to make breakfast. He was just plating up a huge stack of pancakes when Dean came into the room.

“I smelt pancakes.” Dean said between a loud yawn. He stretched out his arms as he walked over to Claire, giving her a high five before ruffling Jack’s hair.

“You could smell pancakes from a mile away.” Cas retorted. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks.” Dean said, shooting Cas a warm smile as he filled up two mugs, passing one over to Cas. Neither Dean nor Cas missed the smug looks on the twin's faces. “Shut up and eat your pancakes. You two are still in trouble for yesterday.”

“Yes, we’re now contemplating whether to go old testament or new testament god.” Cas added. The four of them sat in comfortable silence, eating pancakes and drinking coffee. The fact that Claire and Dean were leaving still felt like it was hanging over their heads and Cas noticed just how slowly the twins were eating. Drawing out the departure for as long as possible. After nearly half an hour there was no more putting it off.

"Claire, why don't you go and grab your bag? I just have to talk to your dad for a second." Dean said. Claire nodded but she and Jack walked away Dean heard them both sniffling. Dammit, all it took for Dean was to hear the twins sniffling and his eyes began to water. "Um...how about we come here for Thanksgiving? You and Jack can spend Christmas with us...I know it's not the best but..."

"I can't leave DC right now and it's not the best for you to leave Kansas?" Cas offered. "I want you and Claire to stay so much but..."

"We can make something work, right?" Dean stammered as tears welled in his eyes. He tried to blinked when but when he saw Cas' eyes filled with tears that sent him over the edge. "Dammit Cas, you just had to be so easy to fall in love with didn't you?" Dean joked between tears.

"I'm going to kiss you but it's not a kiss goodbye ok?" Cas said, cupping Dean's tear-stained face.

"Ok Cas." Dean replied. Cas pulled him in close and their lips met. They only parted when they heard coughing. Claire and Jack stood their awkwardly, both of them with red-rimmed eyes. "We...we best be heading off...traffic...you know." Dean stammered out. "Come here dude." He said to Jack, holding out his arms. Jack ran into his arms, hugging him tightly as Claire sprinted towards Cas. The four of them just standing there and hugging for several minutes.

"So, Jack and I will be seeing you at Thanksgiving." Cas said to Claire. Claire nodded but Dean could see the tears in her eyes.

"And then you're gonna spend Christmas in Kansas with Claire and me, that's cool right?" Dean said to Jack. He too was crying as he nodded. Dean pulled his son back in for another hug. Holding on tightly until it was finally time to go. "Love you kiddo."

"Love you too dad." Jack said.

"This is going to be hard but try to stay out of trouble." Cas said to Claire. Claire let out a sniffling laugh and nodded.

"I'll try. Love you Pops."

"I love you too Claire-Bear." Cas said. "We'll walk you out to the car." Cas said to Dean. The four of them walked out to the Impala, Dean towing their bags in the trunk. Claire and Jack exchanged a tear-filled hug. Dean wiped away a tear and felt Cas lace his hand through Dean's. Cas gripped tightly, silently telling Dean that he loved him. Dean squeezed back and watched as Claire gave Jack and Cas one last teary look before she got in the car.

"Um...I'll call you when we're home...maybe we can talk more when Claire and I are back in Kansas." Dean said, giving Cas one last kiss.

"Drive safe Dean." Cas said. He and Jack stepped back as Dean got into the car. Cas and Jack stood in the driveway waving to them until Dean was halfway down the street.

"Are you mad at me?" Dean asked a still sniffling Claire. She turned to glare at him with her red-tinged eyes. "Gonna take that as a yes."

"Yes I am mad at you and I think you're an idiot! You love Pops, I know it and you know it. Heck, Jack, Uncle Gabriel, Uncle Sam and Aunt Eileen know it! Even Pops himself knows it! You love him and he loves you! YOu've always loved him otherwise you wouldn't get drunk and cry watching cowboy films." Claire yelled, her eyes filling with tears again. "I just want my family to be together and instead we're driving away from them! I know we have Uncle Sam and Aunt Eileen back home but Pops and Jack are our family. This whole thing is so goddamn stupid!"

"Claire, we'll see them at Thanks-"

"I don't want to wait until Thanksgiving to see my dad and brother. I want them with us! Don't you want them with us?"

"Of course I do Claire!"

"THEN WHY ARE WE STILL DRIVING BACK TO KANSAS ?" Claire yelled, her voice so loud that Dean nearly slammed on the breaks. "Just answer me that Dad!"

"I...I don't know...holy fuck you're right. I don't know." Dean said, slamming on the breaks and doing a completely illegal u-turn.

“What are you doing ?” Claire hollered, sliding around on her seat as the drivers behind them blared their horns.

“Chasing after your dad...kind of...ok I'm going to your dad...either way, I'm doing something I should have done twelve years ago.” Dean said, racing back down the road towards Cas’ house. The Impala had barely come to a stop but Claire was unbuckling her seatbelt and leaping out the car.

“Dad! Claire!" Jack called, sprinting out of the house and running up to Claire. They both hugged tightly as Cas stood in the doorway just staring at them with disbelief.

“It took us about 30 seconds after we left for us to realise we didn't want to lose you two again.” Claire said.

“We?” Cas asked.

“We.” Dean said, climbing out the Impala and striding over to Cas. “I made the mistake of not coming chasing after you all those years ago. I didn’t want you to have to chase me this time.” Dean said, shrugging like his words were far more casual than they were. Cas let out a chuckle and just shook his head.

“How is this going to work?” he asked. “I’m here in DC and you're in Kansas. What about the kids? How is this going to work?”

“We can make it work Cas, I know we can 'cause...I love you Cas. Always have. Always will.” Dean said, pulling Cas in for a kiss.

"And I love you too Winchester. Until the end of my days." Cas said, grinning from ear to ear.

“I can’t believe we actually did this.” Jack said, high fiving Claire.

“Yes...you two are still grounded you know?” Cas said.

"Aw dang it." Claire and Jack said in unison.

#deancas parent trap #deancas fic #deancas ficlet #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #deancas #destiel #i can't keep looking at this because it's already been chopped and changed so much #i'm just post it then drink wine

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heleizition · 3 years

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this might ruin the nice mood we got going on but have you ever felt insecure ab your art? specially when looking at other people in fandom? it tends to happen to me quite a bit and i have no idea how to deal with it :p

lmao have u met me??? im a depressed 22 years old who’s dream was to work in art, be it animation or comics, but had to give up because art school was too much on my mental health, ruining my life plan at age 19.

ive been insecure about my art all my life. i think that most artists get insecure about their art (except dc artists. but u know SEJOEFSJOFSE) and in a way it’s good, because that’s how we get better, by being critical of our own stuff and seeking inspiration and going further.

i’m insecure with my art because in art school my teachers taught me that oh No i am actually bad (for their standards, for waht they were expecting), and ever since i left art school and it’s not my n°1 priority because now i have a full time job, i draw less, and i dont get better, dont push myself like i could before. every week i have a moment where i cant draw and i’m like. this is it. this is the last time im picking up a pen. i’ll never be able to draw again. i read once that we only had 10 years in our lives where we were at our best creativly, and even if it’s bullshit it’s always in my mind because im like. im passed it. im now going to be Bad forever.

my head’s been fucked over because i’m never going to be a professional, and even tho i’m starting to make my peace with it, i look at friends or people i follow who are in the art industry and i just feel so upset. i look at my art and at followers or like numbers and im like . oh no i don’t have the numbers then i dont matter, my art is Bad.

and it’s fucking stupid !!! every little thing i do makes me insecure about my art !!! and tbh i got better when i really started putting this as a Hobby, a thing i do on the weekends or evenings when i have the energy, and not as a goal. but i’m lucky, i caught attention and with it, validation. because that’s what’s important in my eyes when it comes to art insecurity. it’s because you dont get validations. yes it’s validation from strangers, but it’s validation nonetheless. and you know when i get like this i just !! hey !!! i got so much fucking better fuck you !!!! legit i’ll find you one of my first digital piece thats like from 2015 or something and wtf !!! i got so much better i’m getting so much further and im having fun ! i’m drawing things i like i’m discovering how to do things, and i’m doing it at my pace. and that’s waht important. fuck insecurity and comparing yourself to artists who have such different paths. what matters is your path and if you are happy.

it’s okay to step back when your hobby doesn’t make you happy. it’s okay to find other things to do. i used to only define myself by Oh im nostra, i draw. don’t do that. i discovered i was so much more than that, and so are you. dont let the insecurities eat you.

#ask me #i got emotional there #i hope ur doing ok anon #Anonymous

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lais-a-ramos · 4 years

Text

On Lovecraft Country and the way the narrative presents queerness

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human

Only then I am clean"

Hozier, Take Me to Church

oh, boy...

i knew some of these deaths could happen in the finale, but i definetely wasn't prepared for any of this, wow.

i guess that, with the events of the finale, including atticus' death, there really is no point in getting the show renewed for a season 2, as as i hoped and wished before, because all of the conflicts that were set up were resolved. i mean, there's always the possibility of using time-travel to do a retcon and bring all the dead characters back, or, at least, two of the protagonists and the villain, but, maybe it would take too many alterations in the narrative, because it seems like the whole thing was planned for a mini-series.

so, now, all we have left is to do a breakdown of what worked and what didn't in lovecraft country's limited series run.

i think that, overall, the message of black ppl taking back the power of ancestry that was stripped from them by white supremacy and structural racism was well-done, and the symbolism was very well-crafted in the final takedown of the season's main villain, which was a representation of how the racism based on indifference born out of white privilege is almost as bad as the racism based on pure hate and despise, which is a valid message, considering the former is a bystander to the abuses and rise to power of the latter.

although i still find the timing was poorly chosen because, well, as of now, all over the world, it's not white ppl who dub themselves "liberal" or "progressive" and claim themselves to not be racist but refuse to act anti-racist that present an actual threat to our human rights, but literal, actual fascists and neo nazis...there are bigger fish to fry now...

but i digress...

on the final score, i guess that when it comes to queer/LGBTQ+ representation, the show fell actually felt real short for a product that crafted so well the race issues, proving that there is still a lot to go before we get to see intersecting identities being portrayed in media the same compex way they exist in the real world.

no, lovecraft country is not guilty of queerbaiting, unlike some of the same ppl in fandom that are the firsts to either erase the half of a couple that is a BIPOC or to deny a canon cis het biracial ship to hype up a fanon white wlw ship and other problematic stuff plenty of times in LGBTQ+ fandom spaces might say.

but that doesn't mean that the treatment of LGBTQ+ issues was satisfying or can be considered good rep, and it actually repeats some of the same tired tropes about queerness and blackness.

while we can say that the show did a relatively good job with montrose as an individual, the same can't be said of the other characters and the final messages.

like, for example, introducing a trans/non-binary indigenous, the Arawak two-spirt Yahima, only to kill them on the next episode was insensitive, to say the least.

while it's true that misha green apologized for the mistake, and said she and the writers tried to make a point that even oppressed groups are capable of oppression, the final score was that a trans/non-binary character was introduced as a plot-device and brutally murdered before having even a chance to properly develop.

in other words, used as a prop.

in a world in which trans ppl are brutally murdered at alarming rates, and most of the victims are BIPOC trans ppl, that is something that we can't let it slide just because the general message of the show was good for cis het black ppl.

the same can be said on the treatment of sammy in the narrative.

while it's true that montrose being aggressive and acting the way he did, pushing ppl he cared about away and shunning every chance of vulnerability due to internalized homophobia, toxic masculinity and misogyny, as this very interesting critique by amani marie hamed of nerdist pointed out, his characterization nonetheless falls into the same old stereotype in american culture of accusing black ppl of falling behind when it comes to queer acceptance and associating black masculinity with homophobia.

also, the author of the article says it better, but, overall, sammy's existence ends up being just another plot device, serving to say to the audience that the producers and writers know that queer ppl existed in the 50's, but, at the same time, repeating some of the same tropes as usual, like associating being queer with being clandestine and deviant instead of showing it as a natural thing that was perceived as deviant at the time, as we can see by that scene of sammy having a sexual encounter in the alley behind his bar.

the author even mentions that queer ppl overall had houses, and most of the encounters actually happened there, and that scene reinforces the idea that queerness is inherently animalistic.

the article also points out how sammy is mostly there just to be shutted out, first by montrose and latter even atticus, and, ends up being another prop to lift montrose to deuteragonist status, being rejected and abused by montrose solely to highlight tic's father journey with his personal issues that apparently he simply wrapped up in a span of 2 episodes.

the fact that sammy was a also a more feminine gay man, even participating in ball culture as a drag queen, and yet most of his appearences involved him being degraded or shut out or overall mistreated by montrose, even tic, and that scene in which atticus forgives montrose after he revealed he never acted on his homosexuality and cheated on tic's mom, even though it's implied she did cheat on him with his brother george, just reinforces the idea it's ok for black and brown men to be gay, as long as they are not THAT GAY™️.

the introduction of thomas in episode 1x09 only to be murdered in the riots is another example of how queerness seem to come with a price in this show if you act on it.

once again, a gay character was introduced in the narrative to further montrose's pain and trauma.

and his introduction was absolutely not necessary, because being a survivor of a massacre like the tulsa riots and a survivor of parental physical abuse is already was already enough for making tic and the audience begin to emphatize with montrose's pain, there was no need to kill another queer character just for that.

not to say we should agree with everything the nerdist article says, of course.

at times, it felt like the author was saying that addressing these issues in the black community is a problem on itself, and that is definetely not the solution.

but, when we consider the setting of a limited series with a plot-driven approach to the scripts, the way the topic is addressed ends up being superficial and rushed, and what could have been a delicate approach to a complicated man discovering his sexuality if the show was an on-going series, ends up being just a narrative built to put montrose in the spotlight in an attempt of getting a few emmy nominations for outstanding performances, and that's about it.

now, what really serves to cement the LGBTQ+/queer representation in lovecrat country as a disservice is the treatment of ruby, christina and their relationship.

i did a few metas explaining christina's and ruby's characterizations, including one i posted before the finale started explaining why ruby was so important to queer black and feminine-aligned nbs being a dark-skinned fat black queer woman discovering her sexuality and figuring out there was more to life than the social roles that were pushed into her, and how the parallels between her and christina, two different women separated by race and class but with the common feeling of being interrupted by social restraints that binded them, were a way for a character like ruby to be treated by the narrative the same way white women get to be treated in fantasy stories, as someone worthy of being courted and romanced as a light-skinned and thin black woman like her sister leti.

but with that finale, and the way the whole thing played out, with not only christina and ruby dead, but also with christina killing ruby, felt, ironically, like the very same trope that's been the norm for queer characters for a long time.

if we consider the tropes of the genre the show and the source material draw inspiration from, pulp fiction magazines, a medium that was very popular until the rise of the cinema and TV in the 50's and 60's that also served as an inspiration for them, then we know that in this medium some of the harmful tropes about queerness that exist until this day were particularly prevalent, including that of the queercoded villains.

to talk about this, i'm going to refer to this amazing article by tricia ennis on the history of queercoding for syfy wire.

first, a definition:

"queer coding, much as the name suggests, refers to a process by which characters in a piece of fictional media seem — or code — queer. this is usually determined by a series of characteristics that are traditionally associated with queerness, such as more effeminate presentations by male characters or more masculine ones from female characters. these characters seem somehow less than straight, and so we associate those characters with queerness — even if their sexual orientation is never a part of their story."

between the hays code in cinema going from 1934 to 1968, the comics code authority in the comics industry from 1954 to the early 21st century (with dc comics and archie comics being the last to break with it in 2011, mind you), the code of practices for television broadcasting from 1952 to 1983 and its predecessor for radio NAB code of ethics, the authors all over mass media couldn't approach the topic of queerness and portray openly and proud queer characters under the risk of being persecuted by the censors, and so, begin to hide queer chracters under the disguise of subtext.

and given the content creators couldn't show any form of positive queer/LGBTQ+ representation under the risk of being punished by the censors, the alternative they found was to portray the queer characters as the villains or antagonists or degenerates, and punish them with death.

the syfy wire article says it better than i ever could:

"even dangerous LGBTQ tropes rose out of this time period, as the depictions of pulp noir femme fatales and other deadly women rose in popularity. these women were usually written as promiscuous and sexually devious, both with men and sometimes with women. they were also evil and usually met their end as a result of their sins. While depictions of LGBTQ characters were frowned upon, depictions of them in this specifically negative light were not. you were not endorsing an “alternative lifestyle” if your gay characters always met an untimely demise. Instead, they were merely paying for their poor choices. this trope would eventually give way to what we now refer to as 'Bury Your Gays.' "

and the thing is, all those censorship laws are over by now, but the tropes/clichés that arised on that era are still prevalent in pop culture 'till this day, consumed by the audiences and reproduced by content creators, in the industry or in fan spaces, whether they are aware of said trope/clichés or not.

now, that is where ruby, christina and their affair on the show enter.

to explain how problematic and harmful the way these characters have been portrayed is, and what kind of message it sends about black queerness, i first have to explain christina's function on the story.

christina, as a character, was basically the texbook pulp noir femme-fatale, checking most of the boxes of the tv tropes description of the trope, from the "red equals evil and sin" imagery to being a wild card, that character who changes sides according to their own desires and individualistic goals.

in her specific case, helping the white supremacists and the black heroes alike in her pursue for unlimited power to protect herself from the oppression that comes with being a white woman, particularly a wealthy one, in which the very same presumption of innocence that gives them privilege over BIPOC is used to infantilize them and strip them from their agency, putting their bodies and choices under the tutelage of cis het white men.

so, her function on the show was basically to manipulate the characters on the two sides alike.

and that is where the problems in queer representation come in, because, to manipulate them, she acts as a sensual seductress.

and what does the script uses to highlight that this is a character willing to go to the most immoral places to achieve her goals? it makes christina a sexually fluid and gender fluid character.

that is basically playing a move straight from the hays code era.

not only does the show plays christina's sexual and gender fluidity as her being "freaky" and a proof of her deviant nature, but it makes her seduction of ruby as a central part of the scheme that positions her as the main villain of the show.

this portrayal of christina as a textbook femme-fatale with a touch of white feminism is already very problematic on its own, especially when we consider her death and how brutal it was, because, yes, while it's true she is privileged because she is white and wealthy, she is still a woman and a queer one at that, and giving her the same traditional treatment for femme-fatales in pulp fiction ends up reinforcing harmful stereotypes about gender and sexuality.

but, when we consider what it means for ruby as a character, it gets WAY worse.

ruby is a character that's been shown to feel very frustrated about the ways in which societal structures of power interfere in her life, not only on a professional level, but even on a personal level as well, making her feel "interrupted".

dealing with the same issues that all black women and feminine-aligned nbs who don't fit into the eurocentric standards of femininity and of beauty do, and not matching the criteria for being hypersexualized by society as the black women considered conventionally pretty -- with thin bodies like the white women or hourglass body frames, being light-skinned and so on --, ruby has her humanity stripped from her because everyone expects her to be stronger than it's humanly possible.

everyone seems to expect something of her at home, her younger sister took advantage of her money for years, and not only all of her goals in the professional realm seem to be frustrated by social structures of oppression, but even her relationship goals as well, given that most of the men that she gets involved with, whether they are black or white, seem to believe they have the right to abandon her and treat her like trash because she doesn't feel a thing and is "strong" enough.

ruby feels frustrated and tired, and she has every single right to do so, because, as what happens to most black women and feminine-aligned nbs, she is disrespected and disregarded by everyone, white and black alike.

so, when christina comes in with an offer of improving ruby's life with magic, of course she takes the opportunity.

and it seemed like the show was willing to deal with the moral complexities of christina's shapeshifting potion and validating ruby's feelings, or at least, sort of validating.

but, by killing her at the end, it just played out as if ruby's feelings meant she was merely a traitor to the race, and not a woman who was tired of feeling frustrated with all of these impossible obstacles society sets for black women and feminine-aligned nbs, especially dark-skinned and fat ones like her, and justified in her anger and frustration.

she did everything right and accomplished nothing, and, when she finally decided to rebel and focus on herself for a change, she met her demise.

but that is just the tip of iceberg, really.

what makes this situation with ruby so frustrating is the fact that, when the show presented christina's queerness as another sign she was "on the wrong side of the tracks" and a villian that should be defeated by the black heroes, which consist in a family, the narrative is implying that a person has to choose between their queerness, on one side, and their blackness and community on the other.

of course, one might argue that the fact montrose was turned into a gay man himself in the adaptation prevents this from happening. but, when we consider montrose was forgiven by tic only after reinforcing he never did cheated on dora and acted on his queerness and lived his gayness, when he really had every single right to do so, especially because it's implied dora slept with his brother george and the three of them knew she was just montrose's beard, then we have the message that it's ok to be queer as long as you don't act on your queerness at all.

there is a part in the review for nerdist that i mentioned above, in which the author says that one of the book's best qualities was that "the source material also illustrates the importance of family and community ties between Black protagonists", and that the TV show ruins it when it "introduces abuse, alcoholism, and family dysfunction, and strips Black characters of their own magic."

that is a part of the article, published in october 14 2020, that now no longer makes sense after the finale, because that message is there.

but, the actual problem is that the ideas of family and community shouldn't be taken for granted bc they are always under political dispute, and are oftenly used to reinforce backward messages when it comes to gender and sexuality, serving as a tool for the control of the bodies and authonomy of ppl of various marginalized groups and intersecctions, including women, BIPOC and queer ppl alike.

while these things are not inherently good or bad, and they are also part of the culture and identity for plenty of BIPOC ethnical identities, the concepts of family and community are usually weaponized by conservatives and used to justify things like queerphobia and the restrictions over reproductive rights.

queer ppl in all walks of life and skin colors all over the world have to deal with plenty of conflicts about coming out because, by deciding to live their own truth, they can never know for sure whether coming out will put them at odds with their families and community until they dare to do so.

so, ruby's dillemma for not knowing what to choose, her family or a life with christina, plays out as the type of experience queer ppl have to deal on a daily basis, and when we consider the intersection with race/ethnicity, it gets even more cruel because our gender identities and sexual/romantic/aesthetic orientations, that are natural parts of us, make us being invisibilized and silenced in our own cultures and feel like we have to give up on our own communities in order to be able to live our queerness.

there are few things more gut-wrenching than that feeling of fear that you might be disowned by your family and relatives and your community -- whether is it a neighbourhood, a village, a small town etc -- because a part of yourself is considered at odds with your heritage.

and when we consider all the christian imagery in the show, the final result is a really troubling one.

while it's true that being christian and believing in god doesn't authomatically makes anyone a bigot (i actually still retain some of the beliefs i was raised into as a catholic latin-american), it's also true that now, more than ever, we can't ignore science, including history.

the entire way in which they referred to magic as a devil's work was very troubling and evocates the same discriminative rethoric that white european colonizers used to justify the destruction of the ancient old religions and beliefs of BIPOC in their own homeland, the ancient culture of our ancestors, and also the oppression of peasant women in europe.

while we can't generalize, given each culture had its own particularities, there's an agreement in the scientific community that, overall, the cultures of the first nations and indigenous folks from the american continent, the african continent, the asian continent and oceania/pacific islands were far more accepting of different manifestations of queerness.

that means that queerphobia was part of the colonial project, once the traditional family values of christianity were used as a tool for the white colonizers to regulate the bodies and sexuality of the colonized and keep them under control.

and that is why the association of these ideals of family and community as inherent to blackness ends up being problematic, because we can't discuss racism without discussing colonization, and we can't discuss colonization without considering the ways in which queerphobia and religion were used as tools of colonial oppression.

the worst part is that, when it comes to ruby, the producers and writers really didn't need to do kill her at all.

and while the show did right in not showing how christina killed ruby, sparing the audience from watching another black body being brutalized, it's also true they didn't have to kill the character to get her out of the way from the final confrontation between christina and tic's family.

they literally went and changed her background from her book counterpart and made the woman a musician, and a blueswoman at that.

all they needed was to have her share a goodbye scene with christina the same way she had with leti, saying that she wanted to be with christina but couldn't fight her family and friends like that, grab a copy from the safe travel negro guide and set off in a bus to travel all over the U.S., singing very sad blues songs about falling in love with a white devil once.

that's all the producers and writers needed, to use the "sent in a bus" trope.

but the choice was to portray ruby as a character facing the consequences of following her desires , which ends up feeling like a punishment for a dark-skinned and fat queer black woman for daring to question the position society has placed her because of who she is.

this is in no way an attempt to "cancel" the producers or the writers, because a) their work is still important as a team of mostly black creators and b) canceling doesn't seem to have significant consequences, and seems to lead only to more social media wars than anything else.

but now that it finally seems diversity is getting more space in media, this type of discussion gets more important.

there is a slow increase on more representation of queer/LGBTQ+ characters in media and more productions involving queer/LGBTQ+ creatives, but, most of the time, the characters and are white, or, when there are biracial couples, the characters of color are just token minorities, and the same happens with the creatives involved in the production.

there is a slow increase in BIPOC characters representation in media and more productions involving BIPOC as creatives, but, most of the time, the characters are cis heterosexual, and the same happens with the creatives involved in the production.

but, for pop culture and media to be truly diverse, there has to be more space for the narratives of ppl that exist and belong to the two groups to raise our voices and be heard, whether is it in the entertainment industry, society at large or even in fandom spaces.

because she shouldn't be forced to pick between one identity over the other.

our existences shouldn't be interrupted just because society doesn't know how to deal with them.

and if that make us sinners, then so be it.

#lovecraft country #ruby baptiste #christina braithwhite #ruby x christina #rubtina #rutina #montrose freeman #lgbtqiap+#lgbtq representation #queer representation #poc representation #woc representation #moc representation #black women representation #representation in media #representation in fiction #tv representation #it's ok for non-BIPOC queer folks to reblog #and it's ok for non-queer BIPOC folks to reblog

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writtenbeginnings · 3 years

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Clark Kent x Lois Lane - Helping Him Focus

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Title: Helping him focus Word Count: 1878 Rating: Explicit Genre: Fluffy Triggers: Nightmares

Fandom: Man of steel / DC Comics Relationship: Clark Kent x Lois Lane

Authors Note: nope nadda

Lois wasn’t sure what woke her, whether it was the empty space beside her or the general lack of warmth the other body would provide, she didn’t know. She sat up and looked around the room with bleary eyes. She saw the figure at the end of bed hunched over with his head in his hands.

“Clark?” She whispered softly, pushing the covers away to crawl down their large bed towards him. She stopped just behind him, but didn’t attempt to reach out and touch him. She had seen this before, it was like his own version of a panic attack, where everything was crowding into his head and he couldn’t find one thing to focus on and shut it all out. She brushed her bronze curls out of her face and then rested her hands on her knees as she sat back on heels. The dim light from the city shone into their bedroom, casting shadows around the room and making it look like he was almost glowing in the light.

“Clark, listen to me, focus on me, only me, okay?” She kept her voice quiet and light hoping he’d hear. She wanted more than anything to reach out and touch him, wrap her arms around his broad bare shoulders and hold him tight. But the last time she had done that, it only made it worse and he flew for hours over the city, leaving her at home to worry. “Only my voice Clark, push everything else out, listen to only me, can you do that?” She thought she saw the slight nod of his head, then followed the slump in his shoulders. He was clearing his head and focusing on her, now she could ask to hold him, help him fight the powers he was born with. “I want to hold you, Clark, can I?”

Again the nod of his head, Lois took it as a good sign, usually it would take longer for him to block it out and find his way back to her. She shuffled forward and rested her hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the muscles tensed below the skin. She dug her fingers in, massaging them, trying to loosen them. She pressed her lips to the back of his neck and ran her nose through the soft curls of his dark hair on his head. “I’m here baby, right here, I always will be,” she said softly kissing the shell of his ear as she breathed the words.

She pressed her front to his back and worked at his shoulders, while breathing words of comfort and calm, anything that would allow him to listen to her voice. She knew it was working, as he was relaxing under her hands, slowly his body was starting to fall back against hers and his head dropped back against her breastbone. His head tilted up and Lois finally got a look at the chiseled features she had fallen in love with.

“Hey there,” she smiled, dropping her hands from his shoulders and bringing them up to slide into his hair. She did what he loved and worked her hands through his hair, until she had his eyes fluttering with ecstasy.

“Thank you,” his voice was nothing more than a whisper, but Lois heard him, she always heard him, just like he always heard her.

“Any time,” she answered leaning forwards and pressing her lips to his, where she only planned on kissing him lightly, but he held her there deepening the kiss. With his hands he pulled her round so she was straddling his lap. Lois allowed a breathy laugh to escape her as he hitched up the hem of the old shirt she was wearing, his strong hands massaging at her toned legs.

Lois still kept her hands in his hair and Clark’s hands gripped at her bare thighs, inching the hem up further and further. Lois knew where this was leading and she had no objections. She kissed him hard, one hand tugging at his hair while the other scratched at his back.

Clark broke the kiss and breathed heavily while he sucked and kissed his way down her neck, leaving his own marks. Once he ran out of room he pulled the old shirt of his she was wearing up and over her head leaving her on his lap only wearing a pair of the blue, red and yellow superman panties she had brought as a joke. After the city had settled down with the fact Superman lived in their midst, all the merchandise started to come out, including the female undergarments. Even now they still brought a smile to his face as he saw them.

Lois’s head dipped back again as Clark continued to kiss and suck the length of her neck. His raven hair stark against her creamy skin, he pawed at her firm breast, sucking the peaking pink nipple into his mouth, drawing it out until Lois cried out from equal amounts of pleasure and pain. His hands ran down her bare back, cupping her ass in his hands where he lifted her from his lap as he stood.

Lois didn’t pay much attention to the movement around her, her mind was fogging from the pleasure Clark was giving her. She felt her drop back against the cotton sheets of their bed, and Clark hovered above her. She opened her own brown eyes to gaze into his blue ones, they seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the city shining through their windows. He dipped his head again and put the work into working down her throat again, past her breasts after giving them some love, over her navel and then to the edge of her panties. By now Lois was withering in anticipation, the heat deep inside her coiled tight and her chest wasn’t giving her anything more than short pants. It was incredible what one man could do to her by barely touching her.

Clark nosed at the lace edge of her panties, his fingers curling around the edges and teasing her like nothing before. He used his tongue and flicked at the bead of sweat forming on her stomach, which fluttered at his touch.

“Clark,” Lois warned, gripping the sheets beside his head tightly. She heard the faint rumble of laughter over the pounding in her ears and then she felt the lace sliding down her legs. Clark then continued to prolong her pleasure. He mouthed up her legs, the inside of the thigh ticklish enough to make her laugh and squirm. Clark held her in place with ease, one arm across her waist, while the other hand pushed her thigh apart.

When his lips first touched her centre, she jumped at the sensation. Tightening his grip, he slowly opened her up with his mouth. Sucking and nipping at the hooded button of pleasure, her body was shaking and every time she came close, he would pull away and allow her body to calm, then he would start again.

Clark slid one finger then two inside her, curling them up as he stroked her inside. Lois’s thighs pressed against the sides of head, he drew her closer and closer. He sucked hard on her clit, drawing it into his mouth and then sinking his teeth softly into the sensitive flesh. He pumped his fingers harder inside of her, he could feel her clenching around him and before she could crumble around him, he pulled away.

Her cry and shaking body was enough for him to take pity. He loosened the tie on the flannel sleeping pants and let them drop to his ankles. Gathering her up in his arms she drew her close and then sunk into her.

Lois’s whole body suddenly became alert and her eyes widened in surprise. She gripped at his shoulders, as the sensation of fullness and pleasure sent her over the edge. Clark started to move, working himself inside her, stretching her and filling her. Just as soon as she got over her first orgasm, he was working towards her. The tight coil of pleasure was starting again, making her wrap tightly around him. Her nails sunk into his back and she mouthed at his jaw, licking at the sweet sweat that ran down his skin.

“Har--der, please,” she groaned, attempting to match his thrusts. Clark followed her instructions to the ‘T’ and increased the intensity, she cried out and threw her head back enough that Clark could kiss the underside of her jaw. He couldn’t last much longer, but he was determined to have her cum around him again. Reaching down he placed his fingers over her clit and started to rub at it hard, back and forth until she was clenching around him for the second time. Her eyes were shut and Clark could see the trials of salty tears running down her cheeks, as the pleasure overriding her body overwhelmed her. He lapped at them and pulled her close, slowing it down enough she could wrap her around his neck again.

Lois came back to herself after feeling like she was in another world, no, universe. She took control and grinned at Clark. Gaining the leverage she rolled them over so she sat on his lap, riding him. She placed her hands on his chest, the hard muscles below her hands clenching, she started moving, really moving. Lifting her body up and down until she could feel his body clenching below hers, telling her he too was close. She couldn’t believe it, but she was drawing close again.

“Together,” Lois rasped, reaching down and working the sensitive bud herself. She tipped her head back in pleasure and she brought them both to an end. Clark came first, cursing her name and gripping her thighs harshly, enough that there would be bruises in the morning. Lois was next, her cries echoing around the room as her head tipped back and her hair tumbled down her back in waves.

Clark sat up and wrapped his arms around her drawing her close. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her hard before resting his forehead against hers.

Lois looked over Clark’s shoulder and saw the clock on the nightstand, it was four AM. “Well it’s a good job our holiday starts tomorrow, or should I say today,” Lois laughed hoarsely, her short breaths mixing with his. Clark only nodded and kissed her again, threading his fingers through her hair. All he could hear now was the thud of her heart beat and the sound of her voice, everything else was shut away for the time being.

“Thank you,” he said again, lowering them back down onto the bed. He pulled her to his side and lifted the covers over them.

“Anytime,” Lois laughed softly and sleepily, tucking her head into the space below his chin, while a long yawn escaped her lips. She could feel her eyes already dropping as she felt Clark rubbing circles onto the skin of her back.

“Sleep,” she heard him whisper. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and closed his eyes , hoping he could sleep for more than a few hours.

#clark kent x lois lane #clark kent x lois lane fanfiction #clark kent #lois lane #man of steel #dc comics #superman #written beginnings fanfiction

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black-streak · 4 years

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Little Pistol - Oops

Chapter 9

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Song by Vince Staples w/ Yugen Blakrok. It's from Black Panther, and while I'm aware Tim is often the pastiest bat, they asked for this when they mentioned Gotham in the lyrics and made it way too relatable to Tim's (here) and Jason's (canon) experience. Whoops. Also, I might've completely torn and sewn together bits of DC canon to my own liking because reasons.

This chapter is one of the few that was barely planned for. Um... Verbal abuse? Verbal abuse. Of a child. Mentions of neglect and abandonment.

LP Taglist

@zalladane @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @elmokingkong @queen-in-a-flower-crown @karategirl119 @dreamykitty25 @danielslilangel @melicmusicmagic @xahriia @sassakitty @yin-390 @zotinha456 @indecisive-mess-named-me @heldtogetherbysafetypins @theatreandcomicfreak @alexandriamw @messymessyml

Permanent list

@naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @my-name-is-michell @maribat-is-lifeblood @dast218 @novicevoice @shizukiryuu @princess-of-fangirls @bigpicklebananatree @pirats-pizzacanninibles @abrx2002 @breemeister @darkthunder1589 @thestressmademedoit @severelyenchantedwonderland @isabellemasen @multi-fandom-freak0221 @fantasyloversblog @bzz75 @cloudiedraws @orbitsvt @gingerdaile @sotheresthatthought @kadmeread @novaloptr @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @crazylittlemunchkin @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-alice-of-hearts @vixen-uchiha @changelinggarden

~---~

Jason had warned him it would happen far sooner than he'd like. Well joke's on him, any time was too soon. Too soon to see his own replacement. To see the person who was supposed to be his older brother but just turned out to be another person who'd abandoned him. Which is why he planned for this encounter. Planned for the moment they would corner him. Box him in. Take him down. Or at least, they would try to. Tim wasn't about to let that happen. He knew how to plan and evade and keep his cool with the best of them. Knew how to strategize and win against opponents that by all rights should be able to take him down without thought. How to use their emotion driven instincts to take them down. He'd done it hundreds of times with businessmen and rogues alike. A couple vigilantes wouldn't change that.

So he thought of every instance, every possibility, every reaction and planned accordingly. And how fitting he'd use this against them. After all, it was the one quality Bruce praised him on most.

What he hadn't expected was to have Robin come across him alone. He'd thought of it, of course, but it had always seemed so unlikely with how much the new Batman mother birded the kid.

Oh how wonderfully lucky he felt. Guess something had to go right in his life once in a while so the world could pretend it was balanced and good.

"Drake. I thought you might have the dignity to not be where you are unwanted.. I see you lost that as well," came the clipped, high pitched voice behind him. He had to give it to the kid, while lacking any sense of control, he had some skill. He reached up to turn off the comm link with Red Hood.

"Devin. If that is the standard for dignity, I suppose you never had any," Red Robin turned, a pleasant little smile staying firmly in place, "where's your babysitter, by the way? I thought you weren't allowed out after your bedtime?"

"It's Damian," the boy growled before turning cocksure, ignoring the last half of the comment, "or are you so dumb you can't even remember the name of the person who unseated you?"

"Funny, I thought it was you who struggled with names? Only seems fitting since you can't even say mine. Tell me, did you know that in many languages, addressing someone by their last name is a sign of respect?" He kept from grinning at the squawk of indignation he received, "You didn't deny never having dignity, so I'll assume I'm correct."

"I have more dignity in one pinky than you'll ever have," he failed to address the full sentence once more, but Red would allow it for now.

"I suppose you're right. You did make yourself disappear rather fast when it was made clear your mother and grandfather wanted nothing to do with you. Now if only you could take the hint now."

"You-" the kid started advancing, drawing his sword.

"Aww, poor baby, can't even fight with his words. Do you want to kill me because I'm right? Or because you know as long as I'm alive, you'll never be good enough?"

"I'm Robin! Batman chose me!" Red dodged a wild slash from the katana trained on him, carefully twisting out of the way but never fighting back, the same way he always had. The way Damian had come to expect by now. But he continued talking as they made their way around the rooftop, keeping the brat too angry to focus on technique.

"Yeah, a fake Batman. The real one had to die for you to be chosen. How does it feel to know your father didn't want you on the streets with him? That he didn't trust you. That he chose me over you every time?"

"Grayson was your brother and he chose me! You have no family," the attacks became more sporadic, angrier. Less in control.

"We don't share blood," despite the accuracy of the kid's words, he knew blood meant everything to Damian. And he knew how to use that against him. "My blood family is all dead. They can't be with me. Yours sent you away. Sent you to a father who didn't want you either. And when Bruce died, yours still wouldn't take you back," Red kept dodging, taking note of how the strikes lost all rhyme or reason as the boy lost words and started only letting out frustrated sounds, "Did you know Ras wants me as an heir? Has made so many offers and attempts to take me in? Your grandfather is so desperate to be my family, meanwhile he couldn't get rid of you fast enough. I wonder how that must feel? To know the only person who wants you is a man who only pities you?"

Right as a slash almost made contact, he drew his bow staff, deflecting the hit and disarming Robin in two perfect moves. It took him only a moment to pin the kid to the gravel beneath them.

"I'm Robin! I earned it!" Screamed from below.

Lowering his mouth to one ear, he spoke with quiet calm, only upsetting Damian further, "You are Robin. And you know why? Because Robin is a position given to those who have nothing left to cling to. Who need direction and commands to keep intact. It was never given to me. I took Robin because I wanted to. It was given to you because Dick saw how pathetically in need of it you were."

"I almost killed you, you weren't worthy," he argued, struggling against the pin.

"You only ever won because I let you. Because I never fought back. Because I knew Bruce wouldn't want me to. Now there's no one stopping me. You were never better than me. If you were, someone would love you."

The body below pushed and pushed and struggled until finally it settled down, angry tears glistening in the night.

"Run home, little Robin. You're unwanted here," he let go and watched the kid scramble up and away, straight into Red Hood. Launching backwards, Robin took one look at the crossed arms and tilted head of the bigger man and turned tail off the roof.

"How'd you manage to get that reaction out of the demon brat?" Hood asked as he picked his way over the where Red still crouched.

"He's useless when he lets his emotions get the best of him. Just had to hit the right buttons," he shrugged, pretending it was not a big deal. Like he hadn't verbally torn up a twelve year old just for being right.

"He got under your skin, didn't he?"

Grimacing, he stood and made way to the other's side, "You didn't hear, did you?"

"No," he admitted.

"I reacted to his words only in that I adjusted accordingly. Nothing was said in the heat of the moment on my part," he assured.

Sighing, Hood clapped him on the shoulder once, "If you say so. Let's call it a night, eh?"

"Yeah…"

#maribat #ml x dc #timari #timinette #Dark!timinette #verbal assault #I guess?#neglect #abandonment #common theme thatll be brought up more later actually

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cannibalisticapple · 4 years

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Okay, so I have some thoughts on Kurikuri’s decision to delete a large number of her fan fics, and on fan fiction as a whole.

For those who don’t know, Kurikuri (@letaizawarest) is a popular fan fiction author with numerous popular Erasermic fics, along with other fandoms. Around the end of May/start of June she deleted a large number of her stories, specifically those that featured either police, or those set in the My Hero Academia universe where they work as Pro Heroes.

To quote her post:

as you may have noticed, roughly half of the fics on my ao3 have been deleted.

i’ve deleted all my fics about police officers. also, after some thought, i also deleted my non-AU bnha fics, because although they might not be “cops” in name, they are law enforcement. i do not want to be a part of the system that glorifies the police.  

at the moment i haven’t deleted other profession AUs and high school era fics, but i will continue to reflect on their relation to the source material. even if you enjoyed the deleted fics, please do not circulate them in other formats (PDFs, EPUBs, etc).  

i also encourage other writers to think about cop fic they’ve written. while it may be fun and escapist for you, it still encourages the idea that antiblack and killer cops are just “bad apples” and that good cops exist. let’s dismantle that system of thought.

I have some very, very mixed feelings on this.

To start: I respect her reasoning, but I don’t agree with it. I fully agree that it’s not just a bunch of “bad apples”, there’s a serious issue with the system and how the police operate in the United States. I’ve always been bothered by how the police let other officers get away with horrible BS, even as a kid, and that rage has only grown as I’ve grown older and found out more about how screwed up it is on every single level.

But the way that last paragraph is written rubs me the wrong way because you can’t paint every single person in an entire career field as unequivocally corrupt, bigoted and all around callous murderers. Good cops DO exist. Plenty of people go into the career hoping to fix things, or just genuinely want to help their community in whatever way they can. But the thing is, they’re fighting a losing battle because the system is working against them. When they DO speak up against the corruption, bigotry, violence and other issues, they tend to get fired and blacklisted from the field. Or sometimes, they get outright murdered and it’s treated as a “suicide.”

A shitty fact of life: sometimes, the people who are more willing to resort to underhanded tactics and willing to turn a blind eye to corruption are the ones who climb up the career ladder furthest. And in the case of the police, it’s deep-rooted enough that it can’t be fixed internally anymore. But that doesn’t make literally every police officer corrupt.

I’m not posting this to make some political point or argument though. I obviously disagree with Kurikuri’s opinion, but I respect it. I can even respect her decision to remove the stories featuring the police, or even the ones heavily focusing on the characters’ jobs as pro heroes. I can see how heroes are just another version of law enforcement, because honestly, they are.

As a writer and a reader, I fully respect that it’s ultimately her choice to delete her stories. It’s not my place to make demands. She’s the one who created it, and as a writer I know the hard work and time that goes into crafting stories, so I believe she has a right in how it’s used and shared. The fact she shared it in the first place was something she didn’t have to do.

But the thing is, she DID share it, which is why I have this conflict.

As a writer, I’ve always believed that fiction can be more powerful than fact.

Fiction can give readers a window into mindsets you’d never imagine before, because you can connect more easily with fictional characters than real people on the news. That’s why Uncle Tom’s Cabin was so critical in the battle against slavery: it didn’t just gave a face to slavery, it let readers experience the characters’ lives directly. People got to see the struggles and suffering firsthand, feel the rising crescendo of hope each time freedom is in reach, and the soul-crushing despair every time that hope gets dashed by outside forces.

Fiction may not always be “true” or even “accurate,” but it can help us understand other people, see them as fellow humans, in ways that nonfiction just can’t. It can evoke emotions, empathy and familiarity in a reader that a news story or biography can’t capture because it draws you directly into their world.

And it’s that part—the part where readers enter this fictional world to connect to characters they’ll never meet—that leads to the other power of fiction that many people overlook:

Fiction has the ability to help readers persevere.

How many people reading this have used books to get away from trouble in their lives? To take a breather from all their anxieties and stress, and dive head-first into this other world for just a moment, where nothing else matters? How many people reading this had their whole lives changed by reading a story where a character’s words resonated with them? Where it helped them come to an epiphany about how to do better, how to be better.

Sometimes, the world is too overwhelming and we need to escape it. That’s the beauty of fiction. It lets us go to a world where our problems just don’t matter. Even if the world in question is worse than our own, it can still be a relief and give us hope because hey, at least we’re not living in 1984 or the Hunger Games, right? Stories are what keeps many people going through the hardest time, what gives them hope that life isn’t utterly hopeless.

And even after a story is finished, whether it’s fan fiction, a book, a show, or any other medium, that story will have a special place in people’s hearts. Many people will go back to those stories years later when they’re faced with immense stress and need a break from the real world, so that they can dive into the world that helped them persevere the last time they felt so bad. Just having a copy of it on hand can be a source of comfort even if you never read it again.

I want to highlight one phrase Kurikuri used in her post to describe how people feel writing stories about police and heroes: "fun and escapist”. That’s honestly so accurate, those stories are escapist, and that is why I’m so conflicted.

Stories about superheroes, while technically revolving around themes of law enforcement, are a form of escapism FROM police corruption.

There’s a reason that superhero comics are so popular in America. Superheroes appeal to a natural desire for justice because as so aptly pointed out, the real world doesn’t always HAVE that justice. It gives an ideal for people to aspire to, a glimpse of what could be, what should be. (Come to think of it, that’s probably why I hate the DC cinematic universe so much, it’s skewed way too much to favor the villains/antagonists and maximize suffering for the good guys.)

Right now, the world is full of more injustice than ever before. I can’t turn on the news without feeling my rage and stress boil over. Every day it gets worse and worse somehow, and I (and many others) genuinely fear that the United States may be heading towards a civil war this November. Donald Trump’s voice alone is enough to make my blood boil at this point.

I, and many others, turn to fan fiction so I can break away from reality because that amount of rage and fear just isn’t healthy.

I don’t have depression, or anxiety, or an abusive family, or a chronic illness. I’m not at risk of being made homeless anytime soon, nor do I need to worry about bills right now or going hungry. I’m a privileged white girl who has barely anything to worry about. What I’m saying is I’m fucking lucky and I know it, but I STILL can’t stand thinking about the state of the world and need to get the fuck away from it to take a breather for my own mental health.

And I also know that many people don’t have that option because their situation is so bad, they NEED to be aware of it at all times.

In the past when writing for other fandoms, I’ve had people tell me my fan fiction was the reason they did not commit suicide.

In my early college years I fell into the creepypasta community and was pretty active in it, especially on deviantArt. I don’t know if that particular fandom’s subject and focus makes it more appealing to teenagers going through rough times or what, but I swear, more than half the people I spoke to suffered from some form of mental illness, abusive or broken family and home situations, bullying, and every other way the world can screw someone over through means beyond their control.

During that time, a few readers left comments that waiting for my stories to update were what kept them going. They didn’t explicitly say that it was the only reason they didn’t kill themselves. It was more just remarks like, “Your writing is the only thing keeping me going.”

I’m not vain enough to believe my stories are so good, it made people decide to continue living JUST to see what happens next. Suicidal thoughts and urges are much more complex than that. But it’s still not something you expect to hear on something you write for fun.

I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t because my stories were "just that good.” I think it was because they needed something to cling to in bleak times. That sometimes at the lowest point where all seems lost, people need just one little thought, just the smallest thing to push away those dark urges before they could fully overwhelm them. Something like, “If I die now, I won’t get to see how that story ends.” It’s such a small thing, but having something to look forward to can be so powerful in fighting off impulsive decisions.

It’s made me hyper-aware of just how powerful writing is.

To me, I see writing as a way of helping others. I give people that option for escape. It’s a large part of why I update on a regular, weekly schedule, and why I published extra chapters when the pandemic got announced and when the riots started. People need that comfort, that little break from reality to just sit and breathe so they can get through the rest of the day. I can’t do much to fix the world, but I can at least give people that.

Right now, people need that escape more than ever.

And deleting the stories is taking that escape away and causing MORE stress.

In times like this, people often turn to the stories they know will help most, and plenty of people in fandoms will first search up their favorite ships. They look for fluff, smut, angst... It helps people feel better to focus on these two people who are obviously in love as they work through their troubles.

Many times, readers will be more drawn to stories in the canon universe than radical AUs set in other universes. That’s how they were introduced to those characters. I myself can enjoy no-power and fantasy AUs sometimes, but what I really crave are how they interact in the canon world because that’s the world and versions of them I want to see the most. By deleting EVERY SINGLE STORY IN THE CANON UNIVERSE, that option was removed.

In many of the stories that were deleted, the characters’ careers were honestly a minor facet of the story. Some used it to establish the setting, such as treating injuries after a patrol. Some just simply used it to explain they work at UA, a school for teaching kids with superpowers. Some just had them work as heroes because it’s set in the canon universe, and never directly show ANTTHING about the work.

I’m not always looking for a story about how being a hero shapes and impacts their lives, and most of those stories that got deleted AREN’T about being a hero. That’s just one piece of their character, it’s far from the focal point. It could honestly be removed from several of them without changing the rest of the story.

I can get wanting to make a political point and I respect that, but by deleting those stories, you’ve taken away a key source of comfort from hundreds, thousands of people. By deleting the stories, you’re making the stress worse.

On Saturday night, I realized several of my favorite stories are suddenly gone. I knew Kurikuri had deleted a bunch of her stories, but I hadn’t realized just how many of them I liked. Some of them I’ve specifically sought out to reread multiple times in the past, never really paying attention to the author. Realizing they’re just gone caused me heavy stress because it made me paranoid about all these other stories I like to reread. I don’t expect those stories to be around forever, but I still didn’t expect them to vanish so suddenly. I never thought I’d need to download them to make sure I’d still be able to read them while the site is still up.

I spent hours searching out specific stories to see if they were written by her, and make sure they’re not gone forever. I have no way of knowing which ones she’d written and deleted because there’s not exactly a list out there anymore. My desperate search for those stories and one in particular (which I still haven’t found) contributed to the lack of sleep I got that night.

And I need to reiterate: I am mentally healthy and have no major stresses in my immediate life. And that’s why I’m hyper-aware of how this stress will affect people who AREN’T as lucky as I am.

If an author decides to delete their stories because they feel the stories themselves push harmful values or themes, fine. If they’re getting harassed, or it reminds them of a bad time in the lives, or they just don’t like that story anymore, okay. I can respect that and accept it.

But these stories were deleted for the EXACT reasons that people will be looking for them now more than ever, and that’s where I draw the line.

This applies to ALL fandoms.

If you as a fan fiction writer have more than, say, 100 kudos on a completed story or one-shot, there’s a good chance people will read and reread your story in stressful times. If you have a reasonably popular story that updates on a regular or even semi-regular basis, there is a chance that someone is using it as a lifeline to have something to look forward to while the rest of their lives go to hell. Maybe not because they specifically love it, but because it gives them something routine.

I want to make it clear that it’s not our job to care for other people’s mental health. Fan fiction writers don’t have an obligation to people, we’re doing it for fun first and foremost. We’re not some sort of saviors, and we shouldn’t think of ourselves that way or we can honestly screw people up worse. We’re not obligated to write these stories JUST for our fans.

At most, our stories are sources of support and comfort for readers. A little break from reality. If writing a story is causing you more stress than enjoyment, stop. Fan fiction, and all other fan media and stories in general, is ultimately created for the creator’s enjoyment more than anything.

Your own mental health comes first. Don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.

But with how utterly fucked and unfair the world is right now, people need those stories now more than ever. So if you’ve got a story out there that’s fairly popular, please, please, PLEASE be mindful of your readers before deciding to delete it. Now is the absolute last time people need more stress trying to find a single story. And if you’re going to delete it, maybe give readers a heads up so that those who need it or have some powerful attachment to it for all the reasons I’ve discussed here can download a copy for their own personal use.

Don’t hurt your readers to make a point.

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fandom #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfic #kurikuri #letaizawarest #erasermic #maizawa #writing #stories #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #tw suicide #superhero #superheroes

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afni-fics · 3 years

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Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 32: The Mysterious Swordsman

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn: Chapter 32: The Mysterious Swordsmanby C_R_Scott Chapters: 32/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Tim Drake-centric, Trope: It sucks to be the chosen one, Trope: Trapped in another world, Trope: Kidnapped by the Call

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Summary:

The sound of someone in pain draws Tim to an abandoned prison like a moth to a flame. What will he find within its depths?

"What?!"

Tim's head jerked up from the page he was writing in his journal. Though it was from a distance and muffled, Tim knew immediately that it was the sound of someone screaming in pain. Quickly, he rose to his feet and moved a few yards away from the tent in the direction of the sound. Then, he just stood and listened.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the river to his left and the forest at night everywhere else. Tim closed his eyes and focused all his attention on his hearing. This had to have been the sound that woke him up earlier.

Then there was another scream, and Tim's eyes snapped open. He peered into the darkness and zeroed in on the sight of what looked like some stone ruins cut into the mountainside next to the river on the opposite shore from where he stood. Perhaps once upon a time it had been part of a large structure that had been eroded away by the river.

Tim quickly moved back to camp and picked up his nearly forgotten quill. He dipped it into the bottle of ink and began to write:

Lucien,

Heard something suspicious coming from the tower just downstream. Sounds like someone being hurt.

Didn't want to wake you, so went to investigate on my own. I'll be back by morning.

Tim

He tore out the page and laid it on his bedroll in the tent after a quick rueful glance at Lucien's peacefully sleeping form. Tim sighed. "Lucien is gonna chew my ass out in the morning," he thought to himself before he snagged his gear and his staff. "Well you know what they say, Tim. Better to ask forgiveness than permission."

---

As Tim made his way down the hill following the river's edge, he felt a familiar rush of adrenaline that had his blood singing as he was clearly hunting for trouble. The only thing that would have made it better would be if he had his grappling gun and could swing between the trees and the cliffs.

This wasn't the urban jungle of Gotham City, but Tim mused it sure would've been nice to fly even a little bit out here.

Once he got to a spot where the river turned into a waterfall, Tim easily leapt from rock to rock to get to the other side. He paused midway on one of the slick wet boulders as he heard another muffled scream coming from the ruins, though it was definitely louder now.

Carefully and quietly, Tim walked down towards a wooden door he spotted jutting out of the stone walls and slipped inside.

---

The first thing that Tim noticed when he entered the structure was the smell. Much of the stonework in the rotunda he found himself in was covered in thick damp moss. It filled the room with a moist, earthy odor that reminded him of whenever he was forced to investigate one of Poison Ivy's strongholds back home whenever she was out of Arkham. The smell was always so distinct to Tim because nothing as lush and green as Ivy's toxic jungle ever grew in Gotham City naturally. However, just like in Gotham when Ivy was on the prowl, cutting through and spoiling the plants' naturally pleasant aroma was faint, but distinct, metallic tang of freshly spilled blood.

It set Tim's teeth on edge. "Just like home," the thought flickered through his mind before he crept silently around the stairs of the rotunda to make it to the lower floor where light from an open door was pouring through. As he maneuvered through the room, trying to stay close to the darkest parts of the shadows he could find, he paused every now and again. Since entering the building he hadn't heard any more screams. Oddly, he didn't see any signs of any other people either.

"What if it's ghosts? Are ghosts even a thing out here?" he thought suddenly. "Or what about those draugr zombies?" Tim swallowed hard. He had both his bow and his staff with him, but as he approached the open door, he wasn't sure which weapon he should arm himself it. As he heard distinct footsteps and the sound of someone yawning coming from the open door, he quietly pulled the metal quarterstaff from his back.

Once Tim was in the stairwell, he silently maneuvered past the well lit upper portion down to a landing where there were no wall sconces lit with candles. Though he relaxed marginally once he was bathed in shadows again, as Tim watched a living humanoid figure step into view at the far end of the room this stairwell fed into, every fiber of his being tensed.

"Are you shitting me?!" Tim cursed silently in his head as his eyes caught the light from the room below clearly illuminating the shine of gold colored armor. "Of all the god-damned, mother-fucking, rotten-assed luck!"

Tim grimaced as Lucien's voice from earlier that night echoed in his head. "...promise me that you won't throw yourself into any conflicts with the Thalmor... you have no defense against magic. If you fight them... they will kill you or worse."

"Fuck my life," Tim thought wearily. His staff held at the ready,

Tim stayed still and silent in the shadows as he watched the armored Thalmor guard sit at the table. It appeared he was eating a meal, though occasionally the activity was interrupted by a distinct yawn. Eventually, Tim's patience was rewarded as the elf finally moved to a different chair that was in a slightly more shadowy side of the table, so he could kick his feet up and appeared to settle in to catch a quick nap.

As quiet as a whisper, Tim crept down the rest of the stairs and into the room. He was mindful with every step he took closer and closer to the Thalmor guard, until he was right behind his unsuspecting target. The poor elf didn't even realize he was in danger when Tim took his metal quarterstaff and swung it expertly at his head, knocking him clean out of the chair and completely unconscious.

Tim had winced as the guard's metal armor and weapons scraped and clattered against the stone floor and immediately turned his attention to the only other entrance into the room, waiting for the sound to draw reinforcements. After a minute of his heart pounding in his ears, he realized no one was coming and relaxed marginally. "Is there really only one guard here?" Tim thought to himself in confusion. "What's going on?"

Cautiously, Tim glanced around and noticed a small barred sideroom with an open door. Checking it only revealed some old Imperial armor and weapons along with a desk that had a note revealing that this place used to be a prison for the Imperial Legion. Tim crumpled the note in his hand and tossed it back on the table. Then, with his staff in hand, he made his way down to where the prison cells actually were.

---

After descending a few sets of stairs, Tim paused at the entrance to the prison cell area. The smell of freshly spilled blood hung in the air, and he could hear the sound of someone breathing harshly a little further down. There were no signs of any guards that he could see or hear, but the area was fairly well lit, which made him wary. Cautiously, he crept from cover to cover, glancing over each otherwise empty cell until two cells in particular caught his eye and he froze.

Shackled to a wall on the last prison cell to Tim's left was a human man. He was hanging limply by his wrists, head bowed, and even from a distance, Tim could see deep bloody gashes on his arms and chest as well as the dark bloodstains on both the wall behind him and on the stone floor beneath him. Tim felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew the sight of someone who'd been tortured recently.

As quickly and quietly as he could, he pulled out his lockpicks and made short work of the cell door. Once inside, he made a beeline straight for the wounded prisoner. "Hey," he whispered once he was close enough. "Can you hear me?" For a moment, Tim thought perhaps he was unconscious from his injuries. But then, the dark haired man with what appeared to be Asian features slowly lifted his head, though his eyes were still closed, grimacing with pain from the motion.

"When I get out of here, I'll kill you all myself..." the prisoner growled venomously. Tim blinked at him owlishly. Though the man appeared Asian, his accent was clearly Nordic.

"Easy now," Tim whispered reassuringly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help." He reached into his pouch for another lockpick and immediately started working on the first shackle digging into the wrist of the prisoner.

Seemingly startled by Tim's voice and sudden close proximity, the prisoner finally opened his eyes to look at his rescuer. "What? Who are you?" he asked, the hostility bleeding away in favor of confusion.

Tim's fingers paused in their work as his gaze was captured by the prisoner's. "I'm a friend," he assured him before turning his own blue eyes back to the lock he was picking. "The name's Tim."

"You're not with the Thalmor, are you?" The prisoner's tone quickly became more urgent. "Quick! Get me free from here before more come!"

"Working on it," Tim said as he furrowed his brows at the shackle, biting back a curse as one of his picks snapped. Some of the pins in the lock felt like they were stuck, probably due to rust with how damp this place was. "Who are you anyways?" he asked as he rummaged in his pocket for another pick and started the process over.

"Kaidan," the prisoner said wearily. "My name is Kaidan."

Tim swore aloud this time as his second pick snapped. It was a good thing he restocked on picks back in Whiterun. He considered just giving up on lock picking and just bashing the heck out of the thing with his staff, but if there were other Thalmor soldiers around, he didn't want to draw their attention. With an inarticulate grumble, flicked the broken pick off to the side and he fished out another. "So... Kaidan... what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

"The Thalmor invited me to high tea, what do you think?" Kaidan snapped irritably before even that bled away to what appeared to be a bone-deep weariness in his tone. "I dunno. Some Justicars ambushed me outside of Falkreath."

Thankfully, he felt the rusted pin that had been chewing up his picks finally give way. "I'll have you free in just a moment. I've almost got this."

"You're a life saver," Kaidan whispered, his tone radiating relief and gratitude.

As soon as the lock was cracked, the shackles popped open, dumping their prisoner abruptly. Tim suddenly found himself catching Kaidan before he could hit the unforgiving cell floor. He heard Kaidan gasp in pain, and a quick glance at Kaidan's back had Tim sucking in a quick breath of his own through his teeth.

The poor man's back had been clearly lashed to pieces. The painful looking gashes crisscrossed Kaidan's back, and while some were scabbed over, the movement from the fall had re-opened others and were oozing blood again. Even in the dim light, he could see a faint dusting of a white granular substance on his skin. Tim lightly brushed his fingertips from one hand through the grainy powder. Against the dark brown leather of his glove, Tim could tell the substance was likely salt. Tim felt a sympathy ache from his own scarred back beneath his leather armor. But at least, from what he could tell, the wounds were fresh and not yet infected.

Tim wished he could just use magic to heal Kaidan, but he just didn't have enough Magicka yet to be able to cast a healing spell on another person. He fished around in his bag and located the largest, strongest healing potion he could find. "Here. Take this. If it doesn't work all the way, I've got a some weaker healing potions too."

As Kaidan knelt there and drank the potion, Tim watched with a fair bit of wonder as the magic in the healing liquid immediately began mending the damage to Kaidan's back, leaving behind nothing but scars.

"Thank you. I feel much better now." Kaidan said as he gave an experimental stretch. Tim sighed with relief as it became immediately clear that the man didn't seem to be in pain anymore

"Good to hear. Now let's get you out of here." He offered his hand to Kaidan to help him stand.

Kaidan took the hand and rose to his full height. Tim's eyes widened now that he had had to angle his head slightly upward to meet his gaze. The man seemed to stand at least six feet tall, maybe a bit more, which was about as tall as Tim's adopted father Bruce Wayne. Once up on his feet, Kaidan's intense gaze turned toward a hole in the cell wall that seemed to lead into another part of the prison. Now that he was on his feet, Tim noticed with surprise that Kaidan's eyes were not brown or any other natural color he was used to seeing on normal human people. His irises were red, and they appeared to glow faintly in the darkness. "Wait, there's one more thing. One of the Thalmor got his hands on my sword. I know I've got no right to ask, but I could use your help getting it back."

"Your sword? I guess it's important?"

"This isn't me being sentimental," Kaidan clarified, red eyes seeming to flash with his rising emotion. "They kept asking about it. If it's important to the Thalmor, they shouldn't have it!"

Tim got the feeling that even if he didn't help, Kaidan was going to get that sword back one way or another. He sighed. "Ok. I'll help, but don't do anything rash. Let me see what I can find. Just wait here."

Cautiously, Tim stepped through the hole in the wall and crept deeper into the prison. After making sure the cells on this side of the wall were cleared and there were no guards in sight, Tim moved onward, though he paused at the sight of the stairs. He swallowed hard. The stairwell was narrow and wouldn't allow much room for movement to swing his staff or dodge any attacks if he got cornered there. Silently, he made his way up, and peered around the corner.

Tim almost wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. There was only one black robed Thalmor elf in sight and he appeared to be fast asleep on the bed in that room. Additionally, what looked like an extremely long katana with ornate letters etched onto the blade sat on the desk near the wall he was peering around. It was just within reach, but sat next to a lantern that illuminated everything on the table and chased away the shadows Tim was trying to meld into.

Silent as the grave, Tim slipped around the corner and tried to keep as much of the desk between him and the sleeping Thalmor. Once he was at the desk, he reached over and carefully wrapped his fingers around the sword's grip.

"Shit!" he silently swore in his head. This sword was heavier than he expected, certainly heavier than any normal katana he's ever held, probably a good four or five pounds minimum. Also, now that Tim had his hand on it, the thing was far longer than he'd originally thought. If he was estimating correctly now, this sword was as long, if not a bit longer, than he was tall. With a grimace and a cold sweat breaking on his brow, Tim realized he wasn't going to be able to move the blade with any silence from a crouched position. He needed leverage and both hands to lift it with any stealth, and for that he needed to stand up and expose himself to more light.

Tim took a breath to steady his nerves. Slowly, his eyes never leaving the sleeping Thalmor, he rose to his full height. He stood there, every muscle tense, for a solid thirty seconds, before he finally made a move to the sword.

He moved slowly, eyes darting between the sword and the Thalmor, as he lowered his hands. His right hand settled on the grip of the sword, and his left hand slid under the blade itself a little further down the length. After licking his lips nervously, Tim turned his entire focus to the sword as he started lifting it upward off the desk.

Suddenly, there was a motion out of the corner of his eyes from the bed as the Thalmor shifted in his sleep, and Tim froze.

Or at least, he tried to freeze.

The sword was too long and cumbersome for him. The moment he stopped lifting, the heavier end of the blade wanted to dip down naturally due to its weight, threatening to land back onto the wooden table. Tim tried valiantly to compensate the balance with more force on the grip, but he ended up altering the angle of the blade at the same time. To his horror, the tip of the blade caught the hem of a small bag of Septims that had been resting on the opposite end of the table and shifted it to the very edge. With both hands on the sword, he could watch helplessly as the bag slid slowly off the desk and fell to the floor with a solid, coin-filled thud.

The golden eyes of the Thalmor agent on the bed snapped open and captured Tim's startled gaze. Then they narrowed as the air began to crackle around the elf's hands, a smell of ozone rising in the air.

"Stop right there!" the Thalmor growled as he raised a hand that was crawling with electricity.

Of course Tim moved!

All pretenses of stealth were dropped as he tightened his grip on the sword, hefted it around the corner, and flung it down the stairs where it landed with a clatter before skidding to a stop, crashing against the bars of the prison cell leading to where Kaidan had been held prisoner. Both hands free, Tim leapt down to the prison floor, not bothering with the stairs, and rolled to a crouch. His hand went straight for his quarterstaff, but froze when he saw the massive lightning spell scorching the top of the stairwell where he had been just a moment before. Tendrils of blue-white lightning crawled along the stonework before dissipating.

It suddenly occurred to Tim that his steel quarterstaff, while useful against most physical combatants, turned him into a walking lightning rod in the face of someone like this Thalmor wizard.

Immediately, he pulled his staff off his back and as soon as the black robed elf came into sight at the top of the stairs, both hands still crackling and eyes lit up with rage, Tim launched it at the elf like a javelin. Not expecting the projectile and with nowhere to dodge in the narrow stairwell, the Thalmor just barely released the lightning spell at Tim before the quarterstaff caught him squarely in the stomach, making him stumble on the stairs.

Tim tried to dodge the spell, but wasn't fast enough to escape the lightning completely. The spell went over his head, but connected with the iron bars of the prison cells behind him. The ball of lightning immediately exploded outward and blue white fingers of electricity arced quickly between the bars and other nearby conductive items within the area, including Tim. Though it was a smaller tendril of electricity that tagged him, it was more than enough to drop him with a sharp cry of pain.

Every instinct screamed at Tim to move, but he just couldn't. His muscles were seizing and twitching due to the electricity and wouldn't respond to him except to let him know he was in pain. He could see the Thalmor trying to get to his feet, and for a stark moment Tim knew he was done for.

"Lucien was right," he thought to himself with a grimace as he felt his consciousness fading. "I have no defense against a threat like this." As his eyes slid closed, a final thought ran through his mind. "I hope Kaidan got away safely."

Before he completely lost consciousness, Tim almost swore he heard the sound of a war cry and caught sight of a large shadow rushing in front of him toward the Thalmor, light gleaming off a long silver blade swinging in a wide deadly arc.

---

Tim woke to the taste of a healing potion pooling on his tongue before sliding down his throat. He coughed as the liquid first down the wrong way, choking him slightly.

"Easy now. Drink slow," a vaguely familiar deep voice said.

A little more aware now, Tim realized as he was coming to that he was sitting propped against a wall of the prison while Kaidan had a half empty vial of healing potion in one hand. It took a moment as Tim's blurry vision cleared, but he suddenly realized that the man looked very different. Instead of being bare chested, he was now wearing a full suit of ornately crafted steel armor. His reclaimed sword was also resting on his back, as if it always belonged there.

Tim also noticed that there was a heavy smell of blood hanging in the air.

"What happened?" he asked weakly, even though he had a pretty good idea forming in his head.

Kaidan's expression grew dark. "Son of a bitch had it coming," was all the newly armored man said. Then the angry look in his red eyes softened. He offered Tim the potion vial.

Tim tried not to think about what happened to the Thalmor as he took the vial and drained it slowly, tried not to imagine in vivid detail what Kaidan's ridiculously long sword could do to a man's body in a fit of rage and bloodlust.

Kaidan was alive.

He was alive.

...At least until he saw Lucien again and he found out what happened.

Lucien might kill him... might lecture him to death when he got back to camp.

All things considered, that wouldn't be a bad way to go, comparatively speaking.

Tim tried to focus on that.

"Thanks for the save," Tim said as he savored the feeling of the potion mending the electrical burns he could feel but not see.

"It's me who ought to thank you. I know you didn't have to help me, and still you put your life at risk facing down that Thalmor as you did."

Kaidan bowed his head and sighed before he continued. "Listen, I owe you my life, and--."

Tim frowned. "Hey now. You don't owe me anythi--"

Kaidan lifted his gaze and caught Tim's firmly. "I'm not a man who's comfortable being in debt." he said with conviction. "And if it weren't for you I'd still be hanging off that wall waiting for the end. If you ever have need of me, I'd be glad to fight alongside you until that debt is repaid."

Tim sat there in silence as he absorbed Kaidan's words. As much as he believed the swordsman owed him nothing, clearly nothing he said would dissuade Kaidan from his own beliefs regarding this "life debt" he now owed him. There was also the fact that, practically speaking, with all the threats out there in the wilds of Skyrim, it probably wasn't a bad thing to have a very well armed and armored tank of a warrior on their side as he and Lucien travelled to High Hrothgar. Finally, he nodded.

"I'd be glad to have you travel with me," Tim said as he offered Kaidan his hand. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

NOTE: And so we introduce the mysterious swordsman Kaidan into the story as Tim's newest travelling companion. He's a modded follower that can be found here at the Nexus (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/19075). I'm also using a replacer mod to adjust his appearance slightly (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/23738).

It took longer than I usually do to post this chapter, but mostly because I was hellbent on not splitting this up into two or three smaller entries this time.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#kaidan skyrim#afewnovelideas

#elder scrolls #fanfiction #tim drake #skyrim fanfiction #red robin #batfam #crossover #lucien flavius #kaidan skyrim #wip #afewnovelideas

7 notes · View notes

fanpom-imagines · 4 years

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Request by Anonymous: hi, could you do a imagine on mick rory (from legends of tomorrow) where he and the reader confess their feelings for eachother (even though mick always thought that the reader had fallen for Gary Green) and they get caught making out in the library (on the waverider) after sharing their first kiss and becoming a couple!

Imagine Mick confessing to you because of his jealousy towards Gary.

Masterlist

Fandom: DC’s Legends of Tomorrow

Words: 1470

Warnings: like a max of two cuss words, gets a little steamy at the end, and maybe OOC Mick, but I do honestly think he’d react like this when confessing as I believe he would be scared of admitting he’s in love.

(Gender Neutral Reader)

“How?!” I yelled in frustration as I abruptly stood up and started frantically gesturing towards the screen.

“I’m just that good,” Zari said as she leaned back in her seat all cocky, slowly placing her hands behind her head for extra effect.

“Some would say too good,” came a voice from the entrance of the room. The two of us turn our heads towards the voice and my face breaks out in a smile.

“Sup, Gary, what have you been up to?” I asked as I placed the controller down and made my way towards Gary.

“Oh you, know Time Bureau...stuuuuf,” he mumbles out nervously.

I chuckle at his reaction before bidding Zari goodbye and dropping an arm over Gary’s neck as I started to lead us down one of the halls of the Waverider.

“Oh come on it’s gotta be more exciting than that. Plus don’t we got our DnD session coming up? You know this campaign is going really well, you’re a really good DM,” I tell him as I guide him through the Waverider my arm still around his shoulder and lead us into the kitchen.

“Yes, actually that’s why I’m here, we’re starting up another session, and I was wondering if you wanted to come over-“ Gary was cut off by a scoff coming from the opposite end of the room.

“What is it Mick?” I grumble out at him as I take my arm off of Gary and make my way to the Waverider’s magical fridge thing, which I refuse to call anything else, to get mac n’ cheese.

“So you and your boyfriend goin’ out again to one of these “DnD sessions” Mick emphasizes with air quotes.

“First of all he’s not my boyfriend, and for the last time these “sessions” aren’t code word for sex,” I tell him as I take out a spoon and start eating. I pat the seat beside me to motion for Gary to sit down. Gary takes a step closer towards my direction, but stops as a growl, a literal growl, comes from Mick’s throat.

“Mick, you serious? Leave him be,” I say in exasperation at the hot head.

“You know what (Y/N), the session isn’t starting till like another hour, plus you have a time machine so you can drop by then. I have to setup everything anyways,” Gary said in a rushed tone as he looked between Mick and I. With Mick standing somewhat behind me I wasn’t able to see the threatening looks he was throwing above my head to the more sheepish man.

“You know I can help-“ I started.

“NO!” Gary coughs, “I mean, no, there’s no need. Just come by when it’s time,” Gary said hurriedly as he quickly left the kitchen to scurry off back to his house. I closed my eyes and groaned in frustration as I turned towards Mick.

“Really Mick?”

“What?” He asked, playing innocent.

“You literally just scared him off. Him and I were having a perfectly good conversation and you bared your teeth at him.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Mick you practically did, and it still doesn’t explain as to why you had to literally growl at him,” I asked him as I took another bite of my mac n’ cheese before turning back to him and pointing my spoon at him accusingly. “What is up with you?”

“Nothing,” he says stubbornly.

“Bullshit, what’s wrong?” I say placing the spoon into the bowl and fully facing Mick in my chair as I cross my arms.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” he grumbles out trying to turn his head away to break eye contact.

“Mick quit trying to get out of this conversation,” I tell him standing up and getting into his view once more to catch his eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“I…,” he hesitates before once again shaking his head and trying to step past me. I grab his shoulder and push him back towards the counter. Now having him sandwiched between me and the counter I stand in front of him with crossed arms and a defiant look.

“Mick, seriously, what is wrong?” I tell him as we once again lock eyes.

“It...I…,” he struggles as he looks from one eye to the other before his eyes and face harden again, “It doesn’t matter, go play whatever with your boyfriend.”

He tries pushing past me and I once again push him back against the counter, “Is this about Gary and I hanging out? If you wanted to hang out more you could’ve just said-“

“No, no it’s not that. I…,” He once again cuts himself off not being able to say what he wants and looks down to the ground.

“Hey, Mick, it’s okay, you can tell me,” I say to him as I once again am trying to get our eyes to meet.

“I…” and then Mick’s words become more mumble. Too incomprehensible for me to understand what he was trying to say.

“Mick I can’t hear-“

“I said I love you!” He yelled at me as his head whipped up and his eyes blazed in anger before softening. My eyes were wide open as I stared at him in shock.

“I understand that you’ve got a thing for that scrawny little rat, but I just hate feeling like this,” he said as his eyes once again turned back to showing his anger as he once again pushed against me to leave.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I took my hands and cupped his face with them as I pulled his lips towards mine. It took him a second to realize what I was doing before he pushed back onto my lips and started to kiss back. What seemed like forever, but was only a few seconds of a blissful kiss I pulled away from him.

“Love you too, big guy,” I gave him a cheesy smile as I lean in for another kiss, which he gladly reciprocates.

As the kiss got more heated he got bolder and placed his hands on my waist before pushing me backwards and making us step back together. Once I felt the bump of the table we parted and he dragged his right hand down my side then to my thigh and squeezed it. I took that as a que to slightly hop back onto the table. Mick gave me a once over before giving a slight huff in satisfaction and pushing me further onto the table as he kissed me again.

“Gary’s cute, but he’s not you,” I told him as we separated once again.

“Don’t mention another man’s name while we’re like this,” he said leaning into me once more as our lips locked and he bit on my lip. I chuckled at him as he groaned at me not opening my mouth and he punched my butt, and in turn I opened my mouth letting in his eager tongue.

“You taste like cheese,” Mick grumbled out as the two of us pulled away panting as the air around us seemed to get more humid.

“But it tastes good doesn’t it?” I asked him jokingly.

“Mhm,” he agrees as he leans in once more.

Too distracted with what we were doing neither of us could hear the pair of footsteps making their way towards us. As I felt Mick’s hand make their way to the hem of my shirt and under it I heard a gasp come from our right.

“Oh my God,” I heard Ray’s voice say as Mick and I abruptly pulled apart and stared at the pair in the doorway.

“Oh hey guys,” I sheepishly say as I have them a small wave and feel Mick slowly take his hand out of my shirt.

“I’ve seen many things in my time, but I’m starting to think that it’s become too many,” Nate said as he donned the same wide eyed look as Ray.

“Haircut, Pretty,” Mick snapped at the two drawing their attention instantly.

“Yes?” Ray asked dumbidly.

“Get the hell out before I make you both bald,” at Mick’s threat the two quickly stumbled back out of the room. Mick turns back to me and tilts his head and starts to lean in, “Now where were we?”

Right before our lips touch Gideon’s voice comes over the intercoms, “The Captain would like to remind the two of you that people eat here.”

Mick groaned out in frustration as I let out a small laugh and got off the table before pulling him out of the room with me.

“Ms./Mr. your mac n’ cheese will get cold,” I heard Gideon’s voice.

“I’ll get back to it Gideon,” I yelled back as we finally made it to my room and I pulled Mick inside with me.

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