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sonysakura · 5 months ago

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🚫 My Sonic Big Bang 2024 Experience

...Or how a few months of my life were severely negatively impacted by someone else's bad management. See for yourself.

Proof of the rule they're speaking about being actively hidden from the participants to this day: FAQ – archived link, screenshot with "Who can participate?" on top, screenshot with "explicit" word search, screenshot with "nsfw" word search; Master Guide – screenshot with "explicit" word search, screenshot with "nsfw" word search; server rules – long screenshots of General Server Rules and StH Big Bang Specific Rules: Mar 12 and Jul 01, screenshots of Strike Policy: Mar 12 and Jul 01, long screenshot of General Guidelines, long screenshot of Collaboration Thread Guidelines.

I feel like this is extremely unfair 😭 One moment I was participating in the event I dreamed about for years, and the next moment I'm thrown out into the cold when I did nothing wrong. I need to get it off my chest...

Below, more about my experience with the event, though it ended up a little vent-y, a detailed (and verified!) record of what exactly happened in private thread #48, the aftermath and some fun facts I discovered or want to share:

First things first! Yep, I signed up for Sonic BB as a Writer back in January. I didn't talk about it outside of my server 'cause I wanted it to be a surprise – when I roll out a lo-o-ong illustrated fic without a warning. I'll admit, I always wanted to participate in a Big Bang for this fandom, it was a dream of sorts. And still, before sending my form in, I carefully read all of the Master Guide and the FAQ both. Seeing as how for my neurodivergent brain the rules and regulations are important, that's what I usually do for events, and this one wasn't an exception. Confident that I understand what the event would require of me, I signed up.

First month of the event went well. My questions were answered (even though I wondered why some of the things I asked couldn't have been in the Master Guide from the beginning), I wrote my fic summary and submitted it without many problems, etc. There was a small hiccup at the very beginning of March when I noticed how strict the management seemed to be (no changes or adjustments allowed), and my anxiety got the best of me, so I asked the mods if there's a plan in case a collab team doesn't work out: screenshot of my message in #writers-info-and-questions, pulled from my Discord data; screenshot of my detailed explanation in DMs; screenshot of Mod Joy's reply. Here are the most important quotes from his reply:

I understand wanting to plan for the worst case scenarios, but I would caution you not to freak yourself out over what all could go wrong! There are some absolutely lovely artists in this event who are excited to work with the writers. Odds are, things will go off without a hitch.

We are highly encouraging that no one drops out after the assignments, especially writers, unless due to extenuating circumstances.

We want to make everything as fun and stress-free for everyone. Know that we will be around to moderate threads and dissolve any tensions that arise,..

In short, I was placated with reassurances of careful moderation, not dropping writers and ✨positivity✨. I decided to stay and challenge myself since originally BB is meant to be a challenge and all...

For those of you who haven't participated: the way it is supposed to go is that writers submit short summaries of their stories, these summaries are stripped of the writers' names and given to artists to pick through. The artists then have to list their Top 10 stories to illustrate during the claims period. After the claims, private collab threads are made for each writer and their artists with a couple of mods. So no one else could see what happens in these threads.

Now flashforward to March 11th and the threads being created. Obviously I don't have screenshots of that due to being kicked off the server without any warning and before any chance of communication, unable to delete my personal information or save anything that might be used against me which was a case of poor management at best and a deliberate move at worst, so I'm retelling as faithfully as possible. It also has been verified by [artist 1] and according to them, this is exactly what happened.

My fic was in the 4-8k range, and I got two artists. I was asleep when the thread opened, and they talked about how excited they are for my fic before I came in. Both of them are 18, young but adults. I’ll call them [artist 1] (they're cool), and the other one is [artist 2]. Both artists seemed to talk to me normally.

Oh, I have to point out that there were hmm, Mods Chaz, Joy, Summers and Frostios in my thread. I think only four of them, but I know for sure Mod Summers was reading our conversation at least in the beginning because I noticed my fic's Warnings saying "None" (the original summary I submitted had Warnings: Discussion of Homophobia, Slight Internalised Homophobia), and I pointed out that there are warnings, though I don't know if they were lost just now or weren't in the sheet available to the Artists either, and whether they were actually lost or mods didn't consider it a big enough warning to keep... I still don't know. Mod Summers just silently pinned my message.

I mentioned how I'm in one of the Asian timezones geographically, so I might be awake or asleep at unconventional times, and they told me their timezones (I didn't ask!), so I figured I can make a timebuddy chart for easy tracking what time it is for everyone. Made one, sent the link to the thread, Mod Summers asked me if I want it pinned, too, and then a couple of hours later (I think?) [artist 1] came and said it's very helpful. This is my evidence for at least Mod Summers probably reading the conversation that followed but also maybe not. I think all of the mods were online or at least visually online when it was happening.

This is where I reveal that the entire conversation happened in like... one afternoon 🥲 Roughly 7 pm to 2 am for me.

Back to the conversation itself. There were a few questions I had so I started with them, basically 1) if they've read my fics before (explained that I'm asking so I know whether I need to tell them about my writing style and Sonadow dynamics I write); 2) do they want me to send in scenes as I write them or they want a full draft; 3) if they have any immediate questions for me. Question 1) is what we need. Both of them said they've never read my stuff before, and that they don't have any questions now but they want art to be as close to text as possible, so they will ask in the future. This is how it went down after (as per my memory, artist rendition I guess):

[artist 1]: I haven't read your fics but I'd like to! Your Ao3 is the same as your handle? [no link]

Me: It isn't a requirement, you don't have to! But that's right. I have to warn you though that I usually rate my Ao3 profile as 18+ when I link it, though 33/36 of my Sonic fics are rated G and T, and I feel like a warning is in order anyway so people don't accidentally stumble upon something they don't want to see and know what to avoid/filter out. [I didn't post any links or encouraged the artists to read my profile, just made a warning to be cautious]

We go into discussion of how long I have been writing, [artist 1] shows no problems with knowing my Ao3 has 3 Mature fics, I describe what series my fic will be for [the series is completely SFW, and even then I didn't post the link to it] and go into details of how I write Sonadow dynamics in my fics without mentioning the NSFW ones obviously, we speak about Question 2).

[artist 2]: [replying to my warning about my Ao3] ooohh so you write gore sometimes?

Me: Nah, I don't actually, I'm pretty uncomfortable with it tbh, so no, I don't. Some blood and a quick description of Maria's dead body is the most I have ever done 😅 All the angst I make characters go through is emotional rather than physical!

[artist 2]: oh I shouldn't have assumed, sorry. It's just the first thing my mind went to

Me: It's okay! I've been a medical student at some point and I think I've just had enough of that - one of the main reasons I'm not a doctor but a linguist.

[artist 1] gets excited about this for some reason, and we chat about it for a moment.

Normal conversation continues like...

Me: Okay, where were we

[artist 2]: i wasn't paying attention errr

Me: Me neither! But it's Question 3)

I go into saying how them wanting to draw as close to the text is 💯 what I wanted to hear because for me my texts are an extension of my soul, I'm fragile about them, and I'd prefer the art to be exactly according to it blah-blah-blah, I describe my thoughts about a plan of work for us and how I'm going to share pieces of my fic according to their respective wishes.

[artist 1]: Sounds great!

[artist 2]: yeah, sounds good

[artist 1] says something else which I just react with an emoji to, and I start getting ready for sleep because it's almost 2 am, and I have to get up at 6 am.

Nothing else was said in the thread. That's it.

I got to bed and as most people nowadays I check my phone one last time. I see [artist 2] requesting a mod they can DM to, but I don't think much of it…

So 6 am. I wake up and again, as most people nowadays, I check my phone. I went to sleep in a good mood, seemingly in good relations with my artists, excited for the collab and having a solid plan everyone agreed to, so I eagerly open Discord to see if they wrote anything new in the thread. I see no Sonic Big Bang 2024 server.

I will not go into too much detail about my state, but I have an extremely acute reaction to stress very similar to a panic attack that lasts for hours. So with shaking fingers I open my DMs to see the message from that first screenshot I started my post with. The following exchange with me learning about the hidden rule happens the next day. Unfortunately, before that I still have to go to work for a full day in that very same mental state, oof. Plus I have no breaks on Tuesday... I go back and forth all day with my friends about how shitty this situation is, and one of them asks me how [artist 1] reacted. I say that I don't know, but they still follow me on Tumblr so I go and message them, and from what they tell me, it sounds like a mod pretended to them that I was removed because of an existing rule that's stated somewhere. They didn't argue with that, and that's understandable of course.

At home, I notice one of the event mods blocked me.

It is difficult to explain what's happening in my mind without going into details of what my [disorders] are, but things that are unfair, things that are injustice put my brain in a loop until all wrongs are righted. I'm ranting about it to friends, and I think about it day and night. On March 14th I vent about it in the tags of a related reblog, and this is the only instance of me talking about StH BB on my blog. Next morning I'm blocked by the event blog and over the next 2 weeks – by two more mods, while another mod speaks to me passively-aggressively in a shared Discord server. Then I'm shown a screenshot where one of the mods claims I offered my Ao3 to my artists (I didn't) and implies everyone who writes NSFW is dangerous. And then I receive a hate ask about the event, calling me "creepy"... All this time, my brain is still stuck in a loop, and let me tell you – it's not fun. It doesn't help that my first reaction to everything that makes me feel bad is always to assume I'm at fault for everything, and seeing how hostile people are to me, I'm drowning in self-blame. Without going into any more detail, it takes me 2 months and a lot of help to somewhat recover, so I finally send my reply to Headmod Chaz and receive one back:

If you got to this part, you know that half of Headmod Chaz's reply is simply untrue since there were no "multiple instances", and in any case I was never asked to keep quiet about my ban (and why should I?). I sent another reply a month later expressing my confusion and wondering when the messages will be removed (only my intro was removed). As of today, that reply is still ignored, and the messages aren't removed 🤷

And this is the entirety of my Sonic Big Bang 2024 experience. Now for some Q&A:

Why did you wait so long to make this post? I didn't want to put any participants under fire, particularly my friends because I'll admit, the mods seem like petty people. And also I was worried about throwing shade on other participants (people associating their works with this) or spoiling the event for people who were genuinely having fun with it. Thus, I waited until it was over!

Is this a callout post? According to definition as "public criticism or asking someone to explain their actions", I think it is – in terms of calling out bad management. It is definitely not a call for harassment. There is a reason I censored some names and left vague who reported me, blocked me, was hostile to me or spread rumours about me. Please don't bother anyone, and if the mods decide to engage with this, they can post their own statement.

Aside from the above reasons, why make a post at all? Two reasons: a personal one and an altruistic one. Firstly, I hope to get closure this way since I still feel like I was unjustly thrown away when I was just being a dutiful person. Secondly, while Headmod Chaz said they will be transparent about this rule next time they run an event, as you can see they fully ignored my suggestion of doing it now, and in general keeping a rule hidden to such an extent where you lie in your FAQ is pretty shady... I don't trust them not to do it again next year.

Is it okay to reblog the post/reply to it, what about sending an ask or a PM? Yes to all. I don't expect anyone to reblog, though if you think it's necessary, go on. I'm posting it to the event tags, so-o I think people who need to see it – will see it. If you decide to be negative or call me names, however, be prepared to be blocked by IP or username.

Finally, fun facts as promised 🔥

There are other participants out there who have had negative experiences with BB or were made uncomfortable by the way it was managed, but I'm not going to speak for them;

There was this whole thing with hypocrisy and possible favouritism;

Despite the mods insisting on ME being quiet about my ban, it's now known that they shared information about it outside the mod group;

Out of 6 mods: 5 have me blocked, 2 were passive-aggressive with 1 of them going as far as verbally lash out at me in DMs, and only 1 mod gave me a human apology (not pictured in screenshots);

I saw 3 NSFW writers and at least 2 NSFW artists participating in BB just by scrolling through my dash, without seeking them out, and this is not counting people I noticed in the server prior to me being banned;

Some people are posting Mature and Explicit extras and sequels/prequels to their BB stories already;

The artist who reported me seems to have dropped out anyway;

There's a joke reason why I'm making a post, too: I have to earn being blocked from the event blog since they said they did it because of multiple instances of me talking about my removal;

I'm actually grace and most of the time write my characters as aspec, and I'm exploring what sexuality and intimacy mean for me through writing, so this situation felt a little... like gatekeeping;

My fic was #48 under the title Chao Care 101, and I want you to give me a high five if you had it among your top choices 🖐

Originally, I wasn't going to complete my BB fic because it made me feel bad, but now I've decided I want to reclaim it, so I'm writing it now. Almost 8k words at the moment. It will be published. And it will be illustrated;

Meanwhile, what came out of this disaster is Sonic Supernova 2025, and I recommend you all to keep an eye out for this inclusive Big Bang-like event 🌟

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slices-of-naranja · 10 months ago

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I desperately need to organize my thoughts but if I don’t get this out now I will forget it, so take some vague circular incoherent ramblings about Jason motherfucking Grace.

Jason Grace has this weird kind bluntness about him that I desperately need to study. He’s so normal in a fucked up way. Almost regular. Almost an Average Kid. Brutally honest and kind and pragmatic. He wakes up on a bus with no memory, holding hands with a girl, and he’s immediately like “What the fuck. Who are you people. Where am I. Who am I?” Doesn’t even try to play along to figure out what’s happening.

One of the first things he says to Leo is “You’re weird.” Just “You’re weird.”

Jason is judgy as fuck!! Like!! Such a judgmental motherfucker!!! “If Leo is his best friend, then his life is seriously messed up.” Like!!! What the fuck!!! Be nicer to the man you fall madly in love with!!!

He sees Mean Kid (monster) Dylan and immediately goes “fuck that dude.” (“Jason hated him instantly.”) He even mentally makes fun of the guy’s outfit!!! And he roasts the shit out of Dylan’s fucking shiny ass teeth!! He sees two girls being mean to Piper and he literally, despite not knowing where he is or why he’s there, tries to fight them!! And Leo is the only thing holding him back from immediately throwing hands!!

Mr. “I can’t even take Leo out for burgers bc he’ll set the restaurant on fire.” After the 1 (one) time Leo gets too excited and bursts into flame. (Leo not being able to control his powers as a consequence of finally starting to use them after years of repression is something i WILL be talking about another time)

Jason is a judgy, brutally honest bitch. Like, he’s kind and good natured and strong. But years of being raised by wolves, strict deadly Romans, and being praetor have made him a little bit harsh. Rough around the edges. Just a bit off. This is the dude who was like “hm. Yeah I know Nico’s ur boy but… world is ending. So.” He’s been raised to be pragmatic. Make snap judgements. Be harsh. Be deadly. Like, reading his PoV is so different from the fandom characterization.

Jason is wittier, snappier, and wayyy more regular teenage boyish than I thought. He just has that Roman Demigod Edge to him… the part of him that was trained to scream “MONSTERS! MIST! MAGIC! DANGER!!!” even when he had no memory. I need to study this boy so badly. He’s fucking fascinating.

Bc for all his judgement, he grows so quickly attached to people. Like, it doesn’t take long for him to be fiercely loyal to Piper and Leo and Camp Halfblood. I think that’s because they accepted and loved an imperfect him, and while Expectations were still there, expectations he’s been haunted by his whole life, they’re lesser. Bc Piper and Leo don’t know shit fuck about the mythical world. And the rest of the seven are just as strong and capable as Jason, so he has no need to lead. I don’t know. Jason Grace drives me crazy. Marching to his destiny like a good little soldier. No other options for a son of Jupiter. Have to be strongest, have to be praetor, have to lead a legion-

He loves Nico like a best friend. He adores and admires Leo’s wit and talent and smarts, something that is mentioned a lot in his POV. (While also pointing out Leo’s bullshit.) He envies and admires Percy’s strength. He loves Piper’s brashness and heart. He loves them all. I don’t know. He’s quick to judge but he’s even quicker to change his mind. I forgot where I was going with this. Jason Grace has always been a hero at heart and a soldier since age 4 and I think that’s why some people think he’s boring. He’s trained to be serious and stuff. We don’t get to see him goof around very much, except for with Leo, and Leo does most of the goofs. And I would love to know who Jason Grace, judgmental pragmatic kindhearted bitch, would be if he just got to be a regular teenager.

And I think that’s why he loved camp Halfblood. It gave him half a chance at being half normal. What’s one more big three kid? There’s no strict orders or rules to follow or shape him there. But unfortunately, Jason, hero at heart, soldier since age 4, trained to be selfless, trained to give everything up for the greater good, was never going to get a happy ending. Never get a chance at what Percy Jackson found. Being a demigod kills people. And Jason was one from birth, to his very core.

I think part of him would be relieved, at that. Knowing that Percy Jackson, hero with a happy ending, is someone he will never be. Never overcome or surpass. Yeah, it’s the exact reason they’re rivals, too similar to not be compared, yeah it hurts his pride and goes against everything he was raised to be, and yeah he’s had a few silent breakdowns over it, but there’s relief in knowing he’d never win. Being in Percy’s shadow at Camp Halfblood means he can be out of the spotlight. Die a hero’s death while knowing there is no other option. There’s peace in that.

Anyway New Rome represents heteronormativity and Camp Halfblood is Jason figuring out he’s gay. I will not take criticism.

#Jason grace my boy #you desevered so much better than how Rick treated you #the fandom too #you were never boring baby #pjo hoo toa #toa spoilers #hoo #Jason Grace #character study #Jason Grace character study #jason grace angst #kind of #I love Jason grace #heroes of olympus #hoo spoilers

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 9 months ago

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Hello!! May I request headcanons for Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Kafka, March, Silver Wolf and Welt with a normally quiet and meek reader who very quickly turns no-nonsense and aggressive when fighting, and will use anything and everything they can get their hands on as (improvised) weapons?

Ebon Deer keeps reviving and healing? Get a bunch of alcoholic liquids, turn them into Molotovs and get ready to commit arson.

Trying to raid a Sanctus Medicus hideout? Get a crowbar and pry that door open. Keep it on your person as a bludgeon.

Heliobi outbreak? Get something you can smack them around with (hammer, bamboo stick, whatever causes pain) and slap one of Huohuo's paper talismans on it.

Dealing with Sampo? Pepper spray. Easy. Hot sauce and/or raw pepper juice also work.

And if the opposition turns out to be less capable and far more helpless but they're still struggling, just slapping them across the face and knocking them to the ground (almost) always works.

Things reader has also used as weapons, including but definitely not limited to:

That backscratcher nabbed from Sanctus Medicus

Broken wine bottle

Shoe

Scarf (for strangulation)

Wrench

Pipe

Foldable chair like in IWE (Interastral Wrestling Entertainment; don't question this one, I just made it up on the spot)

Electrical circuits

Coffee mug

Pencil

Firecrackers

Diting

Pray for the enemy if reader can use computers and the battle zone is somewhere with a lot of technology and automatons; reader may just find and hack into a terminal and turn the whole environment against them

Someone: "How do you know how to—"

Reader: "I grew up in a bad neighborhood."

Hi Anon! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like the headcanons!

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Kafka, March, Silver Wolf, and Welt Yang x gn! Reader

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You, someone who is normally very shy, go completely no-nonsense during fights, reaching for anything near you to use as an improvised weapon. What do the characters think of your unique battle strategies?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blade thinks you’re wonderful. When he first met you, he wasn’t so sure since you were so quiet but as soon as he saw you fighting, he knew you were far more complex that he had given you credit for.

His personal favourite improvised weapon of yours was the broken wine bottle. He thought it was classy. However, he was also rather fond of you simply slapping and enemy and knocking them out.

He’s definitely got the backing to make technology a permanent feature of your fighting style but then he wouldn’t be able to see the improvised weapons and that would be a true shame…

He might hold off on that for now. After all, who is he to stand between you and a box of firecrackers that just happen to be nearby? He’s just dying to know how this will end.

Why? Why does he always get partnered up with people who go crazy in battle? And why did he have to fall for this one?

Dan Heng does have to admit he admires your creativity at times though. The coffee mug attack was particularly inspired: it just would have been better if it wasn’t his mug and if there wasn’t coffee inside.

He finds your personality switch fascinating. One minute you can be timid and too nervous to ask for a napkin from a waiter, the next, you’re leaping into battle with no inhibitions.

He thinks your computer skills are quite impressive as well. He’ll find a way of incorporating those skills into every battle you encounter, if only so you stop using anything you can get your hands on as a substitute weapon.

Gepard is torn on this one. Sure, he’s glad you can defend yourself anytime and anywhere. But those improvised weapons are likely to injure you as well as your enemy and that just won’t do.

Oh, he was cheering you on when you used pepper spray on Sampo. Those two have an…interesting relationship in my mind so while Gepard was concerned about any permanent damage, he certainly wasn’t about to stop you.

He likes that you’re not always a chaotic as you are in battle though. He already has to deal with a lot of over-the-top people because of his work. Your quiet nature is a nice change of pace.

I can see him trying to keep you out of harms way a lot, in part to keep you safe, and in part to keep everyone else safe as well. Sure, they might be enemies, but they deserve some mercy…

Ooh, you’re an interesting one aren’t you? Jing Yuan thinks you’re a wonderful addition to any fight. Something interesting is always bound to happen when you’re around.

He’s so used to people around him fighting with the same weapons in the same way every time they fight that your fighting style is a breath of fresh air.

His favourite improvised weapon was probably the scarf since he probably gave that particular item of clothing to you after he had to leave for a while.

Despite what anyone else might think, he saw it as a bonding experience for the two of you. You used a gift of his to take down your enemy? How romantic!

Kafka knows you’re one to look out for. She’s glad you’re on her side at the moment but should anything happen between you, she knows she’d have to watch her back every moment of the day.

I see Kafka as someone who likes control and, while she has that when you’re calm and quiet, once you get into a fight, all semblance of control goes out the window. Nothing can hold you back now.

She was particularly fond of the shoe incident and made sure to grab the shoe after the battle was done as a memento. Now, she has it tucked away as a reminder of your strength.

Much like Blade, Kafka has the resources to supply you with technology so you can use it in every battle you fight. She likes to think this will give her some amount of control back but isn’t hopeful. She knows what you’re like when a battle’s upon you.

If there’s anyone here who is likely to match your energy in battle, it’s March. Sure, she takes it seriously, but she’s gotta have some fun with it too!

The first time she saw your personality shift from shy to no-nonsense, she was delighted. Finally, someone she can goof around with who can also stand their ground in a fight.

For her favourite improvised weapon, it’s the folding chair through and through. She thought it was so smooth the way you calmly stood up, folded the chair and swung it at your enemy.

I think March would like to try and learn from and copy your techniques to see if they’d work for her fighting style. Sure, she has her normal weapons, but it can’t hurt to branch out once in a while.

Silver Wolf loves going on missions with you! Not only does she get to hang out with her favourite person in the world, she also gets to finally have some fun.

Sure, Kafka lets her get away with some entertainment but she’s also pretty strict about keeping a low profile. With you around, there’s no chance of staying stealthy once things start heating up.

She’s also so glad there’s someone else on the team who has good computer skills. She’ll lend you any equipment she doesn’t have an immediate use for and make you some equipment of your own as well.

Of course, her favourite improvised weapon was the electrical wire. An enemy had broken some of your equipment but that didn’t mean you weren’t able to use it anymore.

He’s so tired. He thought you were going to be a nice quiet addition to the otherwise chaotic team of the Star Rail, but no. You just had to have a chaotic side to you.

Of course, this doesn’t mean he cares about you any less. He just worries when a fight stars and he sees you inching towards the nearest object, whatever it may be.

He is glad you can defend yourself though. It’s important that people can fight with things other than their usual weapons and he supposes if he had to chose one, he’s glad you’re adaptable, if nothing else.

I don’t think he would have a favourite improvised weapon but the ones that surprised him most were the pencil and the backscratcher. Both of those occasions took him a moment to process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

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haruniki · 6 months ago

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Is it getting hot in here?

Caught Kissing/Making Out- HSR Part 1/?

Characters: Stelle, March 7th, Himeko (Astral Express crew)

a/n: hiiii did you guys miss mee? sorry for not being active work and school have been crazyyy and I just haven't felt like writing for a while. Also thinking about limiting what I write like fandom wise. I hope you enjoy this tho to make up for my inactivity <3

CW: Suggestive content?, kissing, mostly fem aligned, established relationship in March 7th's, inaccuracies of ability, Himeko's isn't necessarily caught but 🤷

Stelle

To say it was hot would be an understatement. The express's A/C had completely broke and had to be fixed.

Everyone was bored and agitated due to the heat. Choosing to stay in their rooms to prevent any unwanted arguments. You and Stelle shared a room due to limitations of rooms on the express.

Alright, you'll choose dare this once. Little did you know that Stelle's dare would lead you both to being on the floor tongues intertwined as your hands wandered around each other's bodies.

As you and Stelle talked, you begin to play truth or dare. Stelle having a competitive streak going and only choosing dare while teasing you about choosing truth.

"Come on, just choose dare. You have to be out of truths by now."

Stelle certainly had a way to cure boredom and it's not like you had much complaint, well minus the temperatures seeming to rise as you both make out.

As Stelle pulls away, she helps take off your shirt as you peel off her jacket. She catches your lips as you get close to help take her arm out a sleeve.

As you pull away Stelle moves forward with slight whine, before pulling off her shirt.

And as you both go back to kissing, the door to the room opens and Welt enters to inform you two that the A/C will be working soon. But as he sees the scene before him he fades into dust he leaves the room and sends a text to Stelle.

Welt: Apologies, I had knocked but received no answer. Please use a lock next time as well as listen for knocks on the door.

Stelle: [she sent the flustered/embarrassed pom pom sticker]

Stelle throws her phone aside before looking at you. It seems that the minor interaction doesn't bother her so much. She's rearing to continue, perhaps the express should invest in a code of sorts to let each other know they're busy.

March 7th

March looked back in forth from the doorway making sure no one was coming down the hallway any time soon, and as she sees no one she quickly closes the door to the Maintenace room.

Before turning to you and pulling you to her, lips connecting as she rests against a metal box like contraption.

Now, why meet in a Maintenace room? Why not meet in March's room or even yours? March didn't like how close hers was to everyone else's and yours was much to close Stelle's, plus being somewhere they probably shouldn't be pretty exciting for March.

March wraps her arm around your neck pulling you closer, her over hand leading one your own to her thigh. Only pulling away to hop up on to the metal box and pulling your closer.

The kissing is messy and very teeth clashy but March didn't really mind and so long as you didn't either, then she was fine. It had been a while since you two last saw each other and with her last outing with the trailblazer it seemed like their situation were getting deadlier and deadlier.

As March deepened the kiss, it felt like it was starting... to get colder? Usually when you both were like this it got hotter, so why was it suddenly so cold?

As March panics, the door opens. Pom-Pom and Dan Heng enter. The two surprised to see you both here. As Pom-Pom states how happy they are that you both arrived first and were assessing the situation, unknowing that you both were the cause of the minor damage. Dan Heng looked at you both with a disappointing shake in his head.

Breaking the kiss, you both notice a huge chunk of ice on the metal box. March accidental froze it and as you stifle a giggle, March looks absolutely horrified.

"OMG WHAT DO I DO Y/N!? STOP LAUGHING!"

As Pom-Pom investigates and begins trying get rid of the icy block, Dan Heng pulls you both outside the Maintenace room to scold you both for your antics.

Himeko

Himeko's lips trailed down your neck, she was more or less teasing you. The book you bought her in Luofu laying open. You had only bought it for her because of a few coffee recipes it had, you didn't quite expect her to give anything in return.

Himeko's lip makes their way to yours. Soft yet firm, much like her demeanor. Her hands trail between your hips and upper torso, almost like she's scared to touch you.

As you kiss her back, you lightly touch her face. Deepening the kiss, you tongues intertwine. The taste of coffee fills your senses, she must have had a cup not too long ago.

With Himeko on top of you, your own hands wander around her body. Your hands going her hip dips once or twice, she smiles into the kiss as she feels you do that.

Himeko pulls away and sits up to pull her hair back more before going back in for another kiss, panting from the lack of air. As it gets hotter and hotter.. and hotter?

Pom-Pom interrupts as they walk in, looking at Himeko and you in a compromising situation.

Normally the express has such great A/C, why's it so hot in this room? Almost like space has completely absorbed all the coolness.

"MISS HIMEKO! The A/C is broken! March was first there to help fix it but I can't seem to find her anymore.."

Pom-Pom tells Miss Himeko how nice she is for helping out her fellow express members before informing her that they need help melting the icy block that prevents the A/C from working.

A look of panic washing over Himeko trying to find words to exlpain the situation and before she's able to Pom-Pom begins to worry.

"Oh no! Did Y/n get hurt? Did they pass out from the heat? I was worried that it would get that hot. Luckily, you were here to help them out, Miss Himeko!"

Maybe you bring her some coffee recipes more often.

As Himeko leaves, leaving you in the room alone, a noise pings to your phone.

Himeko: Meet me in my room later? We haven't finish our.. coffee discussion. Make sure to bring the book with you ;)

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atlantis-is-burning · 2 months ago

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Dead Boy Detectives Cancelation

So in light of the heartbreaking news of Dead Boy Detectives getting canceled, I decided to write a letter to @netflix It's the first time I've ever felt compelled to reach out to a major company regarding their services but I wanted them to know how much the show means to us as fans and what they're taking away from us by canceling it.

For me, the show was a literal life-saver. Without going into too much detail, I was in a very dark place prior to its release and it was the only thing that helped me through it. That and meeting all of you =)

I don't know what impact it will have, if any, but if you would like to write a letter to Netflix as well letting them know what the show meant to you, I would definitely do so. Our community may be small compared to other fandoms but we are passionate and devoted to this show and they deserve to hear from us.

I've attached the letter below the cut for anyone who would like to read it and believe me, I'm not trying to medal in the tragedy Olympics with the intro, it's just a fact of what happened.

Maybe the show helped you in ways you couldn't imagine. Maybe it made you feel better about yourself or something that occurred in the past. Maybe it was just a fun comfort show for you that you really enjoyed. Whatever the reason, this show brought out the best in people and made the world feel just a little bit kinder for a while and I will never forgive Netflix for taking that away.

To whom it may concern,

On April 29th, I sat down and watched the first episode of the Dead Boy Detectives.

I had heard good things about the show since its release a few days earlier, that it was fun and campy and easy to watch, but for me I was hoping it would be a distraction. A very close friend of mine passed away without warning on December 30th; she was just there one day and gone the next. The first half of the year was spent helping her family get her affairs in order while trying to process our shared grief and figure out how we could move on without her.

I didn’t begin to feel like myself again until late March and by then it was only a fraction of who I had been before her passing. So when I sat down and pulled up the first episode of the Dead Boy Detectives, the only goal I had in mind was to pass a few hours watching a silly supernatural mystery show and think about something other than this sense of loss and imbalance that had settled over me.

It was the first time I smiled in nearly three weeks and it was the first time I laughed since December.

I watched the entire series, start to finish, in one night. Then I went back and watched it again the next day. And again a few days later. And for the first time since her passing, I felt like my friend was still there somehow, like we were watching it together. It was exactly the kind of show she would have loved when she was alive, flamboyant and silly with a touch of romance and mystery, so on my fourth rewatch of it, I sat on my couch with a picture of the two of us cradled in my lap, watching a show I know she would have enjoyed and feeling just the tiniest bit of my grief fade.

It was through the Dead Boy Detectives that I found a community online, a group of people who loved the show just as much as I did. We traded theories and ideas about the episodes, we excitedly welcomed new members who had just finished it and encouraged others to watch it in the meantime. We set up forums and threads on Reddit, we messaged each other, we embraced this silly, quirky show so much that it became a safe haven for a lot of us, it became a comfort series. We saw ourselves in this show and these characters and for many of us it gave us a sense of fellowship and belonging in a world where that feels more rare by the day.

And then it got canceled and for many of us, it felt like a slap in the face for the fans.

While I don’t claim to know the metrics on which a show’s success and renewal odds are based or what formula is used to determine ratings, I do know you didn’t see the fandom we created for ourselves because of this show.

There are artists who make the most breathtaking art pieces you’ve ever seen, writers who bring you to tears with their works, and creators who painstakingly and lovingly created playlists and mood boards for each of the characters, matching them with songs and snippets of poetry that fit so perfectly it felt like it was made for them. There are fans who cosplay so well it looks like they borrowed the costumes directly from the production team and some who make jewelry and charms and trinkets that sell out almost before they complete them.

We engaged with the stars as well, wanting them to know how much we loved the show and these characters and how grateful we were to have watched them. We set up Q&As and asked them questions through Cameo, all the while thanking them for their work in bringing these characters to life. This show meant so much to us and we wanted them to know just what an impact they had had on more people than they ever could have imagined.

We were well aware of Netflix’s reputation of canceling shows based on poor viewership so we went in and organized weekly watch parties in an effort to increase the number of new viewers. We promoted it on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram, creators made videos for it on TikTok, and we created an entirely new tag on social media to bring more attention to this show we all loved so much.

Early on, there were several comments from people who said they were hesitant to even watch it; they had been burned before and didn’t want to get deeply involved with a new show that would turn into yet another “one season wonder.” We did our best to reassure them and convince them that this time it would be different; it wouldn’t be like all the shows that had been cut down before it could ever really develop. Since it was tied in with DC and The Sandman Universe, we promised them that maybe this time we could save it, maybe this time it would be enough.

And it was still canceled.

On Friday, August 30th, ten minutes after the news broke that Dead Boy Detectives had been canceled, I canceled my Netflix subscription. Netflix was the first streaming service I ever signed up for and today it is the only streaming service I have ever canceled. And, after watching the fallout in our little online community, watching the actual grief people were experiencing because of the cancellation, and scrolling through pages upon pages of outraged fans who swore they would never watch another program on Netflix and vowed to cancel their subscription that day, I can see that my decision was justified.

You have no idea the impact this show had on its viewers and you have no idea the impact you had when you took it away. We had people admit that the show helped them come to terms with their sexuality, helped them process deep-seated trauma, helped them love and accept themselves for who they were. We knew the Dead Boy Detectives would never be a runaway hit like Stranger Things or Bridgerton but we hoped and prayed that it would stick around just a little while longer, that we could enjoy these characters and their stories for even one more season before they were gone for good.

For you it may have been just a silly little ghost show that was little more than a blip on the radar but for a lot of us it was so much more than that, it meant so much more than that.

I am under no illusions that this email will make a difference or that it will bring the show back from cancellation but I wanted you to know what an incredible and amazingly talented fandom you are leaving behind in its wake. These are people who put their heart and soul into the art they create and the words they put on paper and all we wanted was a chance to see that continue.

We are tired of being drawn into a program and falling in love with the characters with no guarantee that our viewership and involvement actually means anything. We are tired of begging for complex characters and the representation we crave in media only to have the rug jerked out from under us once we finally get it. We are tired of hoping and praying and campaigning to save a show that should easily be renewed for several seasons or, at the very least, a season two.

We are tired of feeling like we’re being taken advantage of as fans, that the passion and excitement we have toward these shows and their stars, the kind of involvement you claim to want, is dismissed with little regard toward the fans of the show itself.

We are your audience and we are tired.

We will continue to love and cherish this show and these characters, without your involvement, and give them a much longer life than they ever had on your platform. This show, the cast and crew, and the fans deserve better than what you gave them and I hope you understand the tremendous amount of talent and passion you’re throwing away in your fan base.

With regards,

-M

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives season 2 #renew dead boy detectives #save dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki

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applestoashes · 8 months ago

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An update on Apples to Ashes

Hi, it's Prima, the creator and sole developer of Apples to Ashes.

Wow, it's been two years since I conceptualized Douglas and the idea for a visual novel. I think about how much has changed for me personally since March 2022, the different things that have happened to and for me. It's hard to sum it all up into a few words, but to put it plainly, there's been a lot of hardships I've encountered in my personal and professional life since starting this journey, along with some blessings that kept me going along the way.

When I first dreamed up this concept, I was experiencing a lot of new things. I was participating in fandoms for other indie "yandere" VNs, I was drawing a shit ton and garnering a following. I was actually becoming the active, well known artist I'd been striving to become since around 2015. I was so inspired and, somehow along the way, I gained the attention and respect from a lot of other creators. It was so insane to think so many talented people cared about what I was making, considered me worth following, etc.

That only grew as time went on, especially when I started the A2A project. From that point, I watched in absolute shock as people engaged with my own ideas, drew my own characters. They were hyped for this visual novel, they wanted to know more. Douglas started to get associated and drawn with other indie VN characters. This feeling of being put beside all these other amazing creators was disorienting to say the least.

Due to a lot of things I've been through, it feels like the magic wore off a bit. A lot of the drive I experienced at the peak of 2022 kind of plateaued, and... lots of things changed for me. I started taking commissions, I started doing more than just art, like getting back into video editing and voice acting. I got hired by a studio, I got a lead role in another visual novel. I told myself that I can do all these things that I want to, despite the additional need to work a regular job, and the fact that ADHD VERY much has hands. Financial hardship and mental illness... double homicide

A lot can change in two years. My inspirations for the setting in A2A came from my experiences with a job I had at the time. Well, needless to say I've had a few jobs since then, and been through a few very... jading experiences. The person I was when I conceptualized Apple to Ashes and the person I am now are two different people. I was very bright-eyed and inspired, especially by my peers. I wanted to attempt to do something I'd dreamed of for a long time: make a visual novel, and it felt possible, tangible.

I've learned a lot since then. There's a lot that goes into making a game, especially considering I'm largely pursuing it alone. Due to that, and the choices I've made, the things I've been through, Apple to Ashes progress has largely been halted. I feel a lot of pressure to make it something satisfying for everyone that's given love to this project. I feel a lot of guilt about the lack of progress, and feel like I'm earning the ire of people who are tired of waiting, or perhaps losing any momentum or interest I had originally garnered.

All that being said, I'm not saying all this to come to the conclusion that this project is canceled. It's not. I want this story to come to fruition. I want to give everyone waiting the experience they deserve. I want to reach the full potential this concept offers. I want to explore the themes I've attached, use the experiences I've had and witnessed. I want to bring light to these issues using this medium.

The TLDR of this is... Apples to Ashes will happen when it happens, but it is going to happen. To those of you who have offered your patience, I really appreciate it more than I can put into words.

Thank you for reading.

#apples to ashes #updates

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year ago

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The Gun in The Back of His Jeans (Part I)

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (smut and fluff)

Word count: 4.3k words

Summary: He was handsome, sweet, had kind eyes. He frequented the same restaurant she did and bought her a snack on the regular. Sweet, right? But he had a gun tucked in the back of his jeans and that could only mean danger. But soon, it begins meaning a lot more than that to her.

A/N: Written for this request. This is married!Javi before he was married, when he was just the hot gun in the restaurant. I’ve had this sitting in my google docs since March y’all. This was either going to be one very long chapter or two regular sized chapters. I decided on the latter.

He was a cop. There was no looking past that. His posture, his demeanor, the Mexican-American accent when he spoke to the waitress, the jeep he had parked outside the restaurant— he was a cop. She’d been a regular to the restaurant long before he began showing up. Just like her, he found his own spot in a corner and always sat there, back to the wall where he could keep his eyes on the front door. The waitress was always happy to have him because he didn’t make a mess of the place and left a good tip each time. And because he was easy on the eyes.

The man’s sense of fashion was stuck in the 70s, but it did not look too bad. The man knew what worked for him and stuck to it rather than being swayed by trends. He had the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his aviators tucked into it when he wasn’t wearing them. His hair was a jet black mess, but it seemed intentional. Like he was too cool to put a brush through it. Fit him well too. He had a pager clipped onto his belt in the front and on the back—she noticed when she unashamedly stared at his ass as he walked out of the restaurant— a gun.

That was all she needed to stop paying him any attention. It was a little annoying at first to not be able to enjoy the eye candy every morning as she had her coffee. It was like her favorite tv show got canceled and she had nothing to do for entertainment. Sometimes she’d look up from her plate and catch him staring. Unlike the times he caught her staring, he did not look away. He just sent a smile her way and got back to his breakfast.

There was nothing wrong with his smile. He didn’t smirk, didn’t look arrogant, wasn’t creepy and didn’t leer at her. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought him a nice guy who just smiled at a fellow regular at the restaurant. But she did know better.

“Here’s your buñuelos,” the waitress said, placing a small bowl of the golden brown balls on her table.

It was an easy mistake to make. She almost always ordered them, so they might have thought she ordered it today as well. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t order any today.”

“I know,” the waitress said, placing her empty plate on the serving tray. Her eyes twinkled as she continued, “it’s from the embassy hunk in the corner table.”

She didn’t have to look to know who it was, but she did anyway. Just to catch a glimpse of him. She missed her favorite morning television. She found him with his usual smile and now his own little bowl of buñuelos. He picked one up and bit into it, the simple act sending a little shiver through her body. Eating a snack shouldn’t look so damn attractive.

She liked to think herself an intelligent woman. Intelligent women would send the buñuelos back and would not smile back at the dangerous man with a gun in the back of his pants before enjoying the snack. Perhaps she was just not as smart as she’d hoped.

She returned the favor the next morning. Coffee, the way he liked it. She was just paying him back. Or at least that was the excuse she’d given herself when she asked the waitress to put his coffee on her tab. She just didn’t like owing anyone anything, not even a little bowl of buñuelos. He sent her more of them and she had to send him more coffees. She had no choice but to send him coffees. What was she going to do? Go up to him and demand that he stop? The thought of confronting the man was frightening.

She would not admit to herself for a long time that she stopped sending him coffees for the sake of paying him back. Instead, she started sending them just to see his smile as he received the coffee he didn’t order. He’d always pick up the cup in his hand and tilt it in her direction as though clinking their glasses of wine together and saying ‘cheers’ before having the drink. It made her smile. Made her forget about how dangerous he was behind the sweet smile.

The universe was cruel, of course. Every good thing it gave had microscopic text underneath reminding that terms and conditions applied. Everything had a catch.

It was supposed to be a good evening. And it was. Until the knock on the door. Her colleague from the English Literature Department sighed and put her glass of wine down on the table.

“He’s always late. One day, I’ll just not let him in,” she mumbled, annoyed at their chronically late friend. The rest of the table laughed and agreed as she walked up to her front door and unlocked it. Her friend gasped and took a few steps back. Hearing her friend, she, along with the others at the dinner table rushed to the living room.

It was him. Military green tactical vest over the blue shirt she always liked seeing him in, gun pointed at her friend, eyes roving the place and meeting her own before he and the blonde guy he was with moved on to the next door. Her hand trembled ever so slightly and her stomach turned. The food that looked so delicious just a minute ago looked unappetizing now. She drove back home with an empty stomach, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep anything down even if she forced herself to eat.

It did not affect her colleagues as much as it affected her. To them, he was just another nameless cop knocking on doors on raids to catch criminals. It was nothing new in this neighborhood, her friend had assured her when she saw the fear in her eyes.

She called the restaurant the next morning and begged them to pack her breakfast for her. She did not dare to look in his direction this time. It wasn’t that she was afraid she’d find him pointing a gun at her. No, the opposite really. She was afraid she’d see him looking as handsome as he always did, eating his breakfast and smiling across the room at her. She was afraid of the normalcy of this life for him. It was impossible for her to reconcile the image of the man who sent her buñuelos with the man who held a gun with such ease, like it was second nature to him. If she looked in his direction, the two men would become one.

While she didn’t look, she felt his eyes on her. Not in the way the creeping stares of men made her feel, like she was rotting meat and their gaze a bunch of slithering maggots. Not the way that women were taught to fear from when they were just little girls. It was gentle, the way his gaze touched her. It never lingered too long, never looked at something it shouldn’t, never inspired fear. But it still made her want to run. Run until she stopped wanting to stay right there and let him look as much as his heart desired. Run until she stopped wondering if his hands would roam her just as gently as his eyes did.

She began getting takeaway every morning. It did not taste the same from a styrofoam box in her car, but she got used to it. The waitress placed a box of buñuelos in her plastic bag without her notice. She wasn’t charged for it. Unwanted attention from a dangerous man should’ve scared her. But she sat in her car and ate the snack, feeling tingly. Goodness, she was desperate. She really needed to get laid, get rid of her thoughts of the sweet dangerous man who continued giving her buñuelos even though she’d stopped giving him coffees.

She ignored him successfully. Until she couldn’t. She tried to step aside, but he stood right in front of her. Behind her was the cashier’s desk. She could slip through her right, but she couldn’t make herself move as she found his deep brown eyes, unobstructed by his aviators, looking down at her. He reminded her of the golden retriever she had growing up, the kind that made her dad who didn’t want a dog adore the creature like it was more his child than she.

“Please, let me apologize for that evening.”

She didn’t know what she imagined his voice to be like. But, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t supposed to be so soft and smooth yet rough on the edges. She took in a deep breath, inadvertently taking a whiff of his scent— woody cologne mixed with cigarettes. She hated smokers, found it extremely unattractive. But she couldn’t help but imagine what his plush lips would look like wrapped around a cigarette.

“For what that evening, officer?” She finally dared to ask. She hoped her nervousness didn’t slip into her voice without her noticing.

“Agent,” he corrected.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“I scared you. You were having dinner and it— I was on a raid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she said softly. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She wanted to stay stuck indefinitely in this spot, be surrounded by his masculine scent and his attractive voice. She wanted him to keep talking to her. She wanted to walk away and never see him again. She wanted to gaze into those soft brown eyes until she tired of them.

“Clearly it isn’t, Señorita.” He was stern, yet gentle. Stood his ground but was nice about it.

“Have coffee with me.” Not a question. But it wasn’t demanding either.

She should’ve walked out, breakfast be damned. She should’ve walked out and never returned to the restaurant. Instead, she followed him to his table and sipped on the coffee. She thought owed him that much after all the buñuelos he bought her. It would be rude to reject his invitation.

“You don’t eat here anymore.”

Was she supposed to explain herself? Why did this man whose name she didn’t even know demand an explanation from her about her morning routine? He didn’t sound demanding. He wasn’t intimidating her. But she still hugged her handbag close to her stomach like a nervous child held a stuffed animal.

“I’m just running late a lot these days, that’s all,” she lied, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Javier Peña,” he introduced himself and extended a hand towards her. She took it and shook his hand, revealing her own name to him. His hand enveloped hers entirely, bigger and rougher, a little too callused for a man his age. She noticed the reluctance before he gave her hand a squeeze and finally let go.

They had coffee every morning after that. It was impossible to ignore him and take a seat somewhere else. Javier had this pull that kept her going back. The sweet downturned eyes that looked at her, begging to have a cup of coffee, pretty pink lips she couldn’t pull her eyes away from, the aquiline nose that made her wonder how it’d press against her clit when he licked her pussy…

It’s like he put something in her coffee the way she was intoxicated by him. How she wished that was the case… Unfortunately, it was all her. She was desperate and having slutty thoughts about a goddamn cop. The only way to get over him, she decided, was to fuck him once and get him out of her system.

She didn’t have to work too hard to go back to his place. She asked him if he was free to meet at the same restaurant for dinner. He did and they didn’t bother with eating. He drove her to his place in his jeep. His gun was on the dashboard, glinting under the streetlights, as though asking her if she was sure about going to an armed man’s home. He had his hand on her knee the entire time and it had done more to excite her than most other hands had done when she was fully undressed on their beds. As his thumb caressed her skin, his wrist rested firmly on her thigh, the cold metal of his watch compensating for the heat he’d caused between her legs.

“Fuck,” he muttered breathily as they stopped behind a line of cars. His large hand gripped the steering wheel hard and she watched as he dug a well trimmed nail into the faux leather while his other hand simultaneously touched her gently.

“How far is your place?” She asked, afraid he’d shame her for being too eager.

He did nothing of that sort, squinting at the traffic before he answered, “It might take up to an hour at this rate.”

She groaned and leaned back on her seat, much to his amusement. He laughed, asking, “Are you in a hurry, my little buñuelo?”

“Perhaps I am. I’m a busy woman, Javier. Got a lot of guys lining up outside my door to sleep with me.”

“Mhmm?” He asked, his mustache quirking up along with his lips in amusement. She wanted to reach out and touch it, ask him if he’d let it brush against her as he wrapped his lips around her cunt.

“Yeah. I could just step out of this vehicle and walk away somewhere, you know? Unless you do something to keep me right here,” she said as she placed her hand on the one playing with her knee and nudged it, encouraging him to wander above her knee.

“Fuck, baby!” He swore under his breath as she bit down on her lip and looked up at him tentatively. She was alight with desire and needed him to fan the flames yet quench it with his touch all at the same time. It did not matter that they were in the middle of the fucking road, stuck in traffic and surrounded by people who could catch them with his hand up her skirt. All that mattered was the wetness trickling down her cunt and the man responsible for it dealing with it for her on the road because she asked him to.

“You do this with every guy you’re stuck in traffic with?”

“Maybe I do,” she challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why? Jealous?”

He smiled as he let the tips of his fingers graze her legs, barely touching, making just enough contact to make her tremble with anticipation. She thinks he must’ve noticed her response because the smile on his lips was much too smug otherwise. “Gonna make you forget all those poor motherfuckers you fucked in a car before this.”

“Get to work, Javier. I don’t want you letting your mouth run, promising things you can’t do.”

“You got a mouth on you,” he said as he explored her thigh. He stroked her thigh up and down, up and before he could reach where she wanted him most— down. It was an awkward angle and she hadn’t been quite sure if he could do it, but he did.

“God, baby…” he groaned when he touched her between her legs. She wanted to look away from him, hide in embarrassment at being discovered in such a state of need. But she forced herself to keep her eyes on him, delighting herself in her capability to bring that reaction out of him.

“No wonder you can’t wait, hmm? Fucking soaking,” he said, rubbing her slick around through her panties. “Tell me, what got you so wet?”

“You,” she admitted, not bothering with manners. She was going to fuck him, get him out of her system and go about her own way. So why be proper? She could show him who she truly was and not be afraid that she wasn’t proper girlfriend material.

Deceptively innocent brown eyes glinted at her words, his pink lips turning up with smugness. “Goddamn, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so wet, huh? Going to be drenched by the time we reach my place.”

He let a finger slip beneath the cotton of her panties, pushing inside her slit. She took a deep breath and adjusted herself on the faux leather seat, taking his thick digit deeper. If that was how thick his finger was, how thick would his— she bit down on her lip as his thumb found her clit. Rewarded by her response, his thumb stayed put, gauging her reaction as he rubbed it in circles.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, leaning back on her seat. He leaned over and kissed her, chaste at first as he gave her little pecks to go with the in and out motions of his index finger inside her. Suddenly, he pulled back, leaving her irritated and ready to pull him back before she realized he did it to drive ahead.

They only moved a couple feet before they stopped and his lips were on hers again. She thrust back onto his finger, getting him to hit the spots in her that she knew gave her the most pleasure. “More,” she whimpered into the kiss, bringing her hand to his and directing him to add another finger. He kissed back with hunger and she let out a deep breath, relieved that he was receptive to receiving directives from her. She just wanted a good fuck and while it was rare in one night stands with men who didn’t know her body and weren’t willing to, she had an inkling that this one would be good.

“So tight around my fingers, baby… Can’t wait to have you around my cock. Gonna stretch you out so good,” he whispered into her ear, nipping at her neck before withdrawing. He took his fingers away too, leaving her empty and fucking up into nothing. She whined in protest, but he paid her no heed, one hand on the steering wheel as he turned into an alley to their left.

“There’s a shortcut,” he explained as he drove. He took his middle finger between his lips and licked, his tongue making a show of it. Her pussy clenched at the lewd act and the groan that emanated from deep within his chest.

“Taste good too. I can’t wait to have it straight from the source. You ever tasted yourself?” He asked and she licked her lips as she watched him. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she realized he was expecting an answer to his dirty question. Swallowing, she shook her head.

“How tragic that you have this delicious pussy, but have never tried it before… Open up,” he said, tapping her cheek with the back of his hand. She obeyed, parting her lips for him, allowing his to slip his index finger cited in her slick between her lips. She tasted herself, slightly salty and slightly sour and a faint hint of sweetness. She squirmed in her seat, wishing to disappear into thin air yet wanting to stay in this moment, being the woman who let a man she’d met at a restaurant fuck her in his car and make her taste her own arousal. She sucked on his finger, big and thick and oh god the places he could reach if he— she licked even when her taste was gone and it was just his skin. She swirled her tongue around him, picturing him replacing the finger with something bigger later that night. She sucked her cheeks in and bobbed up and down on his finger, her eyes locked on him.

When he removed his finger, she scraped it slightly with her teeth, giving him a teasing smile that opened into a gasp as he forced the finger inside her cunt. His middle finger joined soon after. He drove slow through dark alleys and quiet neighborhoods. As he kept a steady hand on the wheel, she gave in trembling under his touch, feeling the end near yet out of reach. It should strike fear in her to be driven home by a strange man. One who wasn’t decent because what decent man fingered a woman in his car, licked her juices and gave her a taste too. But maybe decent wasn’t what she wanted.

She was alone with him, trapped in his car, and he could be driving them fucking anywhere.

He groaned as he tightened around his fingers, not knowing it was her fear of what he could do to her that inspired her reaction. He curled his finger inside her, touching that spongy part of her that always had her hiding her face in her pillow as she came around her fingers or her ‘health massager’.

Hand trembling, she slipped the sleeves of her top off her shoulders and pulled it down before reaching in and touching her breasts.

“Not fair,” he groaned, grinding the base of his palm into her clit. His jaw tightened and the moonlight fell on it perfectly, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His hand may have only been on her cunt, but she could feel him everywhere, the wives of his touch electrifying every inch of skin.

“Javi, please…” she begged, leaving any dignity behind. That was lost when she took his hand and pushed it up her skirt in the middle of the fucking road.

“What’re you pleading for? To come in my car? Cum all over the seat, pretty thing?”

She moaned, grinding onto his fingers and biting down on her lips to keep more pathetic sounds from leaving her lips.

“I’ve had my fucking boss sit there, hermosa… A couple of criminals too. Which of them do you think will get to smell you first on this seat?”

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath.

He slipped his fingers out and gave a light slap to her cunt, the slight sting against her clit making her legs jerk up. She grabbed his hand and forced his fingers back in, holding him in place by his wrist before bouncing up and down on them. The man hadn’t even given her his cock and he’d already climbed to the top of her list. No cock came close to how free she felt grabbing Javier and using him to make herself feel good.

His fingers pumped in and out, finding the right spots with her help. Her finger found her clit, rubbing gently, matching the rhythm he set with his fingers. It didn’t take long, with the steady pace of his thick digits, for her eyes to roll back and her lips to part. The wet sounds of her cunt coupled with her soft gasps filled the inside of his jeep. Soft gasps turned to moans and moans to his name and his name to incoherent sounds and finally, when her eyes screwed tight and her world stopped spinning, she turned silent.

She fell back on the seat, thighs trembling as her wetness trickled down it and on to the car seat. She panted, trying to bring herself back to reality from whatever world he’d taken to when she began recognizing her surroundings.

When they drove through her street, she finally spoke, “The brown building. The one with the black gates.”

She wobbled on her feet when her feet finally touched the ground. He snorted, steadying her with his arm around her waist. Cocky bastard with his stupid smirk and his stupid mustache!

“Thanks for the ride, Agent…”

“Mhmm…” he hummed, his smirk still intact.

She walked backward, slow and steady so that she didn’t trip. Pulling him along by his collar, she enjoyed having him follow like a loyal dog. The other hand on the railing of the stairs, she climbed one step after the other. His shirt strained against his muscles, the buttons using the last bit of their energy to hold together the white fabric that stretched across his expansive chest.

“That would be all,” she said, stopping in front of her door, giving his ass an appreciative pat before pulling away. He chuckled before stepping back, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Beautiful brown eyes glistened under the light, their mischief and softness pulling you back in.

“What, you’re waiting for a tip or something?” She asked, her smile growing cocky.

“Oh hermosa, I’ve already been paid well. In kind,” he said, his hand snaking between her thighs and cupping her pussy. “Thank you for riding.” With that a slap to your pussy, he turned back around and descended the stairs. Good god, he looked sexy even when going down the fucking stairs. He would sexier going down on her.

She unlocked her door as quick as she could, hands finding her soaked panties right after she kicked her door shut. Running to her window that overlooked the front of the building, she opened it and hollered, “Javier!”

He looked up, cigarette between his lips, hands on his hips. “Catch!” She said before throwing the garment at him. He caught it effortlessly. “Tease.”

“Is it teasing if I plan to satisfy you in the end?” She asked, bending down to pick up her skirt that was pooled around her legs. He jumped ahead and caught the garment before throwing it inside his Jeep through the window. “You have ten seconds to get up here.”

And he did. So she let him fuck her against the door. And on her couch. And on her bed. The man was insatiable, giving as much as he took, doing more for her in one night than other men had throughout the course of relationships. Javier was gentle, rough, slow and fast all in one night, showing her all his talents as though she was interviewing him for the fuckbuddy position. If he was, he got the job. He left her on her bed, mind scrambled and pussy satiated yet needy when he left following a call from work.

Safe to say he hadn’t left her system.

Tagging: @harriedandharassed @cowboychickenlittle @sunakochansama43

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sepublic · 7 months ago

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The Owl House's Ending Anniversary...

So it's officially been one whole year since The Owl House ended.

One year ago, I wondered how I would move on. How I would keep going. But I also knew I would, no matter what, because time keeps going on. Things will eventually pass, they always do, that's how so many moments and days for me have gone. Even entire periods of my life.

So I'm not surprised how things have gone on since then; I still had plenty more things to say about TOH, and I still love it just as I have. I've gotten new hyperfixations, and even returned to old ones as some of you can see with recent posts, so it's only a matter of time before TOH circles back again.

And man does it feel so slow, only to feel so brief, it really feels like this anniversary has snuck up on and surprised me! And once again, we have some other, appropriate event lined up; A solar eclipse on this anniversary! Luckily there's no sigils nor coven heads gathered to make me worry. But dang, it was raining in Connecticut when Luz returned there, and it was the rebirth of Jesus when Luz was resurrected.

Makes me wonder if anyone of the Boiling Isles, justifiably, has had PTSD from solar eclipses, and dreaded any that showed up, despite knowing it couldn't happen again. People must've held their breaths the entire time during the first eclipse, panicked at even the slightest fatigue, and then it passed and they realized it really was impermanent and over. And that there was another step towards moving on, which I guess I can relate to now, though this is something I'm much less happy to see gone.

I think a lot about how TOH has influenced both me and my writing, how I approach characters and stories now. I've found myself gravitating more and more towards personal, character-driven stories and situations now. I still have a bit of a taste for grander-scale stuff, but TOH was special for me in that it feels like the first time I really got and understood a show and its characters from the ground-up as I experienced it all in real time. The first time I truly grasped themes and character arcs and could make reasoned predictions based on those, some of which came true! It really feels like THE big start of my media literacy in a way?

It's been fun looking back at TOH as a 'whole' work more or less to reevaluate, and learning other things behind-the-scenes about the show. We've had a few more livestreams and stuff confirmed. Dana's done more drawings, including on her Patreon.

I haven't been writing as much TOH stuff lately, and tbf I've already said soooo much. I might have other, new things to say later down the line, and I do have a few thoughts I've written in notes that maybe could be fully-fledged posts in their own right. I've found comparisons to protagonists of other media, like Miles Morales, or Arin from Ninjago.

The Owl House still is and will probably always be something truly special to me; It feels like my first real fandom experience. My first time understanding and learning a show, appreciating it as it develops and even as I speculate. It broadened my tastes and horizons, my ability to participate with others in stuff.

I miss it; I miss new episodes, new developments. I'm still agonized over things that could've been, things I would've loved to see more of. I'm apprehensive over whether we'll get that Raeda prequel because I don't wanna get my hopes up. Plus Dana needs a well-deserved break and is trying and experimenting with new, different things. And I get that.

It's bittersweet, it's scary, it's freeing, it's sad, it's happy. I've gone so far, this show and fandom has gone so far. And it'll keep going, it has to, time keeps marching on. Luz had to lose her father Manny, process that, but still keep going and must be surprised looking back how much she's adjusted since then, how much she's still grown and gained and learned, while still holding him dear; The same applies for the Titan and the magic she once wielded. With grief and acceptance being a core theme in this show, I'm not surprised that it prepped up the viewers to do the same, and now we have.

And you know what? I'm gonna keep going on, like Luz Noceda, possibly my favorite protagonist of all time, one of the greats and a huge inspiration now for how I really want to write and focus on my own protagonists, too. I'm gonna keep doing this like it never ended. The rate and frequency might fluctuate, but every now and then I'll have things to say, and stuff to drop by and check, such as with the tag and the occasional trending post, others' reblogs, and so forth.

So again, thanks to Dana and the crew. Thanks to Luz Noceda, Eda Clawthorne, King Clawthorne, and the other many, many characters! Luz's story is one where it feels like the show really is about her at its core and wraps around to her, and I want to do a story one day that accomplishes the same feeling. And as I see how Dana has been inspired by past influences, I can't help but look forward to future generations and stories that will themselves have been inspired by The Owl House, I know I've been already, retroactively applying it to things that were already fairly compatible to begin with, and really needed the fresh breath of new inspiration.

I'm repeating a lot of the same things I've said last year. Will I say the same stuff another whole year from now? I'll see. But until next time... BBBBYYYYYYEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

#the owl house #ramblings #meta #nostalgia #psa #the owl house anniversary

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oonajaeadira · 1 year ago

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A Welcome Home At Resolution Ranch

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle / Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Pairing: Jack Daniels x reader

Reader:��Adult female. Former agent, now the manager at a guest ranch. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T. Fluff.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, but on the edge of healing

Summary: When the news comes through that Jack met his end in Cambodia, you know better.

A/N: Well howdy, friends, and welcome to a good, soft, fix-it fic. What inspired this? @writeforfandoms did when she sent in an ask for a game....

"I wish you would write a fic where Jack is fine and nothing hurts and there are stars in the sky and there is plenty of banter and softness. Maybe horses."

Since her birfday is this week and writing Jack for each other is a love language, this is especially for her. <3

“You sure I’m ready to go on my own?”

Charity is a good girl. A little accident-prone at times, sure, but it’s mainly out of a lack of confidence. She’s got a real knack with the horses though, and you’ve learned to let her be on hand whenever the ranch has new guests check in; that million-watt smile of hers is worth a welcome mat covered in gold. She is Jack’s kin in every way, except he sucked up all the ego in the family and left little over for his niece.

Handing her the roster clipboard, you grant her an approving grin. “You grew up on these trails. You know them better than I ever will. You’re every ounce the guide any of us are. Now you’ve got eight guests riding with you this evening, two of them are about your age, and pretty handsome young gentlemen. You’re about to win the hearts of some suitors with that sweetness of yours…and if not, then for sure their grandparents. Have fun. Oh,” you remember, pointing to a name on the roster, “this lady here is a bit of a tick, but she has it bad for Morgans. Put her on Sasha and she’ll be shining so bright there’s nothing gonna dim her stars.”

“But Sasha’s your horse.”

“She won’t mind. Now get. And remember–”

Charity rolls her eyes. “Don’t let anyone tell me that they know horses better than I do, I know.”

“Good girl. Now you do a good job on your first solo run and I’ll have a big surprise waiting for you when you come back, hear?”

“I’m not a kid. I don’t need a reward.”

Turning the girl around by the shoulders and sending her off in the direction of the stables, you refrain from swatting her playfully, showing her the respect of a coworker. “And I’m not baking you cookies either. I’m not going with you tonight because I have something I gotta do. You’ll get the benefit of that thing whether you do a good job or not. I was trying to be encouraging.”

Her black braid swings down her back as she walks off to her task–both excited and scared, clutching the clipboard with both hands.

“Oh, and Charry?” She stops to turn and listen. “Don’t put anyone on Whiplash. Leave her in the stable tonight.”

Once she’s given you a nod and marched out of sight, you wander back into the main lodge and relieve everyone for a few hours. You’re ready to take the front desk on your own. No worries, you explain, there’s only one guest booked to come in in the next hour and everyone else is out on the twilight ride. You’ll take it from here.

Once the lobby is quiet, you prop yourself out on the porch in a rocking chair with your boots up on the railing, tip your hat down low, and keep your eyes on the horizon--gradually more pink and gold by the minute--where any cars coming over the mile-long driveway can’t pass your notice.

It’s been six years now since you were secretly decommissioned from Statesman and your agent status revoked. Emotional trauma is a hell of a thing, and some agents take a beating. When head of the organization deems an agent unfit for duty with needs of long-term recovery and care, it’s their call to order it and–with the help of one other top officer–secretly install the probationed agent in a situation where they are anonymous and removed from any society that they could harm or could harm them. The organizational file would relate how the agent was killed in action, with the true story being kept by the two in charge. A total erasure of personage, total disappearance.

If and when the agent passed an evaluation and elected to return, they became extremely valuable as a secret operative, since everyone would assume they were deceased.

If they decided not to return, the agency made sure they were provided for. For life.

Sometimes they came back; thrill of the hunt, what they know best and all that. But overall, the return rate was low. Something about a slow down calls after a life of deception.

In your case, Jack was chosen as Champ’s second and–having always been one of the only agents that damn cowboy liked working with–suggested you head up his family ranch for your rehab period. Tasked you with making it a nice working vacation ranch for families. Came out and visited you often enough to make sure you were getting on.

And, of course, to make sure you were getting off too.

There was a lot of hay on property, and Jack was a damn nice rolling partner. Said that he liked that he never had to pretend with you. Not now, not ever.

And you always felt exactly the same.

But the timing was never perfect. And the world had always needed one or the other of you to save it.

Distractions.

After the requisite five year probation, Champ and Jack made the ceremonial trip out and asked if you’d like to be re-evaluated and “reborn”. As much as you’d been itching during the first couple of years to get back in the game, the quiet life had softened your body and won your heart. You’d gained the trust of the employees. Knew all the horses and their idiosyncracies by heart. It had become your home. Walking away to spend days without sleep, lying, taking lives without stopping to think twice….just didn’t appeal anymore.

With Champ’s understanding, you had respectfully retired, and with Jack’s blessing, you’d planted yourself permanently. The ranch was your calling. Your heart. Even with some of Jack’s relatives working and living here it could get lonely at times, but then you’d catch yourself watching the fireflies in the sunset or riding Sasha through a particularly pretty meadow and everything seemed right with the world.

And hells. If the lack of companionship was the only thing you had to complain about, well the universe must have heard. It’s rung the hospitality bell for you.

Taking the letter out of your pocket, you glance over it one more time. An announcement of an agent down. Cambodia. Drug conspiracy. Agents Galahad, Galahad, and Merlin of Kingmen, London. Agent Whiskey showing mental trauma and poor judgment. A violent engagement. A meat grinder. Signed by Head Agent Champagne.

So that’s the story they assigned him, huh. A meat grinder? Really? So stupid. But then, you got to assist in penning your own death, so it makes all the sense in the world that Jack got to have a say in his. Of course he was going to go out in the corniest way possible, of course he was.

Tsk. A meat grinder. Jesus.

Before long, the stars are starting to peek out and there’s a plume of dust on the horizon. Then a black car at the core of it, making its way along the drive. By the time it pulls up in front of the porch, you’ve hidden the letter back in your pocket, stood and made your way to the bottom of the steps.

Two doors open. From the front a driver emerges, short and sturdy, young and hale, heading for the trunk to retrieve luggage. But when the back door opens, there’s the duo of a boot and a Stetson which emerge together then unfold into a tall, cool drink of Jack Daniels.

It’s a showdown at twilight, but you both keep your hearts in your holster for the time being and instead reach for your sass. “Driver? This here’s a working ranch, so you can just leave the luggage. Guests here are required to haul their own.”

They do as they’re told with a nod, dropping two suitcases and a duffel in the dust. The whole time Jack stands, unmoving, hands on hips, watching with a bemused incredulity as the driver then simply gets back behind the wheel and literally drives off into the sunset, leaving Jack's bags like carrion.

“Well shit. Is that any way to welcome a man home?”

“Maybe I just wanted you all to myself, cowboy. You ever think of that?”

There’s a delicious moment underscored by cricket strings that allows for both of your grins to stretch to full capacity.

But still, he’s a man whose wind has abandoned his sails and you both know why he’s here. It doesn’t mean he’s not still Jack Daniels though. And while he might not come at you with an oppressive swagger, he still comes to you, the cockiness giving way to a genuine fondness.

“Well. Hello, gorgeous.”

“Let me guess,” you tease, opening your arms to guide him to his landing, “You have a pack of cold ones and your roomie’s out so I can scream your name as loud as I want.”

His embrace is more than just happiness to see you. It’s heavy with relief, with longing. He needs it from you as much as you from him, and he hums low into your neck as he lifts you so that your toes just leave the ground before plopping you back down. This is the point where the usual hug might end, but he stays. He stays just a few more breaths and you can tell he’s taking a cure in the moment.

“Come on, cowboy,” you hum into his shoulder. “Let me help you with these bags. I prepared the best room in the house for you.”

Silently, you both heft a suitcase and he takes the extra duffel, and you make it up the stairs of the main house to the biggest bedroom and flip on the light.

“Isn’t this your bedroom, Brandy?”

Throwing a suitcase on the quilted bed you shake a finger at him. “Uh uh uh, that’s not my name anymore, Whiskey.”

He follows suit, unburdening himself. “And that’s not mine. Belongs to Ginger now.”

You can’t--and won't--hide your delight. “Well hot shit. Good for her. She’s always wanted to go out into the field.” But it’s also bittersweet. It's been six years. “How is my girl?”

“Oh, she’s doing real fine. Took over as Champ’s right hand when I went out and Tequila hopped the pond to work for those Brits.”

“Damn. Well, I’m proud of her. I wish I could tell her. If I could have just had one more agent to keep in touch with….wait.” Something in Jack’s little smile gives you pause. “Waaaaait a minute. Did she–???”

He finishes the thought for you. “With the transfer of title, she also became Champ’s number two. So she’s got access your retirement file. I’m sure she’ll be booking a vacation here soon enough.”

Turning to the window and clamping a hand over your mouth, you hold your own reflection and do your best to keep the tears for later. It’s been six years and your old friend is in Kentucky right now, finding out any day now that you’re not dead after all, that you’re only a plane ride away. A long dreamed-for reunion is coming. Oh god.

But Jack’s here now, and he’s going to need your support. And of course he’ll demand your attention–”You never answered my question. Where are you sleeping if I’m in here?”

Turning to him, you wink. “Who said I was moving out of this room?” His blush signals that you’ve just out-Jacked Jack Daniels. Stepping in closer, you take his hand. “Hey. I just wanted to give you a view of the stables. If you want me here, I’ll share the room with you. If not, the guest room is free and I’m comfortable sleeping there too. This is your home now, cowboy. I want you to see the sun in the morning. Give you a reason to get up every day.”

“Sunshine’s wherever you are, partner. It’d actually be real nice to have a reason to stay in bed.”

His words spread through you like a good bourbon. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” It’s a warm moment, new for both of you. Instead of the thrill of the promise of sharing a bed and the obvious adventure that awaits, you have something now that you both never had before–time. Time to hold. Time to breathe. Time to heal and take it soft and slow. “Come on, cowboy. I wanna show you something.”

Picking up his Stetson from the bed, you place it lovingly on his head, your fingertips lingering as they trail down his sideburns. He wears the hat well, and the facial hair. And the deep adoration. Before he gets lost in the moment, you lead him out of the main house and down toward the stables.

“So. A meat grinder.”

He grins as he watches his feet, big hands swinging at his side. “Can’t blame a man for people wanting to remember his demise. That one’ll be talked about.”

“Little over the top, isn’t it?”

“That’s the way I went in, apparently.”

“Stupidest death I’ve ever heard of.”

“But you’ll remember it, won’t you.”

Rolling your eyes, you lead him to one of the front stalls of the stable. “Yeah, but I’d never believe it. Jack Daniels? Taken down by an unarmed, unstable agent and his apprentice? This hulk of a man tossed around and yanked into a grinder as if there’s one big enough to take you?”

“You’re real hung up on the meat grinder part, aren’t you. You do know the target was actually processing people and making them into burgers, right? I don’t see why it’s so unbelievable–” But he stops like stone when you reach your target stall. “Is that…Well slap my chaps. That’s the prettiest mustang I’ve ever seen.”

“You like her?” Clicking your tongue, the lithe and beautiful bay immediately comes to you, tossing her mane, ready for the apple you’ve got on offer. And when you hide it behind your back, she knows to put her nose to yours, to nuzzle you gently. “This is Whiplash. Fast as a shooting star and twice as bright. Picked her out myself. Helped Charity to train her up, which is why she’s also sweet. That girl has the patience of a saint. Must get it from the other side of the family. But this mare was a passion project for both of us. Thought you might like to claim her,” you say, handing the apple over to him and, with it, Whiplash’s attentions. “Anytime you need to clear your head, she’ll run you to the moon and back.”

Jack holds out the apple reverently with one hand, running the other along the mare’s neck. “Always wanted a mustang. Thought I’d have to settle for the automotive variety. They’re not the kind of horse you keep at a pedestrian ranch for just anyone to ride.”

“I know. It was meant to be a surprise for your next visit. But now that you’re here to stay, she’s even more yours than she was before.”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to hold those tears for later, his beautiful brown eyes gathering up all the rising moonlight. Swallowing hard, he gives you a nod, a thanks that he can’t put into words just yet. Instead, he deflects. “Where is my favorite niece?”

“Your only niece is out leading a twilight ride. It’s her first lead. I told her I’d have a reward waiting for her when she got back as long as all the guests are alive and kicking. She doesn’t know you’re coming yet.”

He nods. Goes back to petting Whiplash. The full day and the journey finally come to settle on him and all his thoughts seem to rise to the surface and float in his tired expression.

You reach out. Hook a finger in his belt loop and give it a coy tug. “Hey. Can I ask you...what happened, Jack?”

He has to take a breath. Two. Then he gives Whiplash a final pat and takes your hand, weaving it through the crook of his arm, and you wander out into the darkening pasture together.

The mission was nearly doomed from the start. With Tequila down and Harry still recovering and Eggsy still green, it was just a mess. It didn’t help that his heart wasn’t in it, that he kept thinking about his loss so many years ago, that maybe it was better if all the addicts were just taken down in one fell swoop so they could stop hurting themselves and everyone else. Running the New York branch and distribution on top of fucking saving the world every five minutes–the burnout was getting to him and just made him fixate more.

Harry saw through him but misinterpreted his reluctance. Harry shot him to take him out of commission, knowing full well that Ginger could fix him. Jack went back into action too soon, too hot. Went straight to Cambodia. Joined in the fray. Ended up taking out his rage on Poppy and brutally jamming a needle in her neck, overdosing and killing her rather than neutralizing her and taking her in as he should have. Harry and Eggsy were kind. Stood up for him with Champ. Helped to corroborate a story so he could step down. Jack let the record show that they were the heroes so they could go back to the Kingsmen in triumph and he could heal in peace.

This is what surprises you the most.

That Jack let himself go down as the bad guy.

“You could have just said you were taken down by one of Poppy’s men and walked away a martyr.”

He simply watches the first fireflies come out in answer to the first stars, squeezes your hand a little tighter, shakes his head. “If I’d had my head in the game, a good agent wouldn’t have died. Merlin. His name was Agent Merlin. Damn fine man. And if Harry and Eggsy hadn’t been the excellent agents they are, my lapse of judgment could have killed a lot more folks. This is my way to atone.”

“And there’s no way in hell you’d let anyone think you got taken down by some nameless thug.”

“Shit. Got me there.”

All you can do is show agreement with a knowing nod. “You know, when I first came out here, I couldn’t wait to leave. But you knew, didn’t you. You knew that I needed this.”

“I did.”

“Cocky bastard,” you mumble in loving admonishment. “Did you understand that you were nearing the end too? That you were sending me out here to give me time to be ready to bring you home?”

“I wasn’t aware of it at the time, probably a little too confident to ever think I should stop.” He turns to you, a sweet little apology in the corner of his smile. “But maybe a little part of me knew.”

“Yeah, that little part of you has gotten me into trouble before.”

He huffs a little laugh, tilts your chin up with a knuckle. Still holding your hand and sliding it inside his jacket against his chest he whispers, “Ain’t the part I was talking about, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it’s a different Jack than the one you used to settle for on occasion. This Jack is ready to put down his revolvers and his whip, ready to concentrate on himself, on you, on a life far from trouble. His kiss holds in it the promise of summer sunsets and long trail rides, of barbecues and lemonade and lazy mornings sleeping in. And there will be stars that are brighter...and nights under them for just the two of you. It’s a kiss that leaves no doubt that there will be many more to follow, each one with its own brand of sweetness and a happy ending well-earned.

No more distractions.

Time enough.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

#a birfday fic with love #kingsman golden circle fanfic #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #fix-it fic

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plxnetn1ne · 6 months ago

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since everyone in this fandom and their mum seem to be giving their piece about the ‘update’ coming to Hogwarts Legacy on the 6th, i figured id give my piece even if no one has asked

ive been seeing a lot of posts and replies about how “we should just take what we get and be grateful” and “the devs are working hard, do you know how hard game development is?”

im very aware of how difficult game development can be and how mentally taxing it is. i dont doubt that they’ve been through the mill.

the update is trash. its that simple. we’re allowed to feel upset about it, and for people saying that its not fair to be upset — it is fair. we shouldnt have to expect the bare minimum from a game that sold 22 million copies and reached nearly 2 billion dollars in revenue, a game that had 14 nominations for awards and 3 wins.

we were told we were getting a summer update alongside the Haunted Hogsmeade quest — the quest they promised to release to PC and Xbox in march when the game celebrated one year of release. they said, and i quote;

“As we near the one-year anniversary of Hogwarts Legacy, we wanted to let our community know that the Hogwarts Legacy PlayStation-exclusive content will be available on other platforms later this summer, along with additional updates and features for the game. Stay tuned in the coming months for more details on what’s coming to Hogwarts Legacy this year.” copy and pasted straight from Hogwarts Legacy’s official twitter page. along with additional updates and features to the game.

yes — i know, thats a very vague statement. it could have been taken in any way, but typically when additional updates and features — plural — is put into a sentence, you assume that there will be more than one new feature. it wasnt wrong for the community to assume that there was more than a few new additions coming to the game.

okay, we got photo mode — thats great for console players, but it isnt new for us PC players. im happy for my console buddies that finally get to bring their mc to life in the way ive been able to. im looking forward to seeing the uptick in photos upon the updates release. PC and Xbox got the new haunted hogsmeade quest, and thats great, considering the release of it was delayed by 3 months, but atleast we’re getting it. but basically. PS5 was fucked in the process, because everything minus photo mode is stuff they already had, and honestly, thats not fair. and double honest — thats not an update. thats the release of exclusive content plus a new addition.

for several months a summer update was hyped up, and the result was…. ps5 getting fucked, a photo mode that im going to bet my ass on will be buggy as all hell, and some cosmetics. so no — i wont be grateful. especially when we keep getting promised things and then getting fucked by a hot iron in the process. because i havent forgotten the documentary that was supposed to come out, and i still remember during September when they hyped up a digital surprise for Back to Hogwarts day and it ended up being 30 percent off on a game most of us already had, only for the game to go on sale for half off the following Nov/Dec for the holiday sales.

since the release of the game, modders have been basically picking up the slack by working their asses off to create bug fixes, better cosmetic options, enhanced schedules, companions, and so much more to keep the community somewhat entertained. this as well as the file miners that are constantly digging things up that we were robbed of, like the relationship list for companions, gaunt manor, other house specific quests, more quests concerning Isadora, on and on. on top of this, ive seen first hand how much of the outer parts of the map was developed only to be cut out. i spent a solid hour and a half today using free cam to fly around the outskirts of the map — buildings, caves, entire areas laid out for towns or poacher camps, all thrown out on top of all of the discarded quests and content.

and while im at it — ill be one of the few to say it, but Hogwarts Legacies storyline was not well thought out, or at the very least it wasnt very well portrayed. there were hundreds of questions we were left with upon beating the game. where did Anne go? what happened to the keepers after the final battle? why wasnt Isadora in her portrait? what were the keepers hiding? did inhaling the magic actually make a difference or was it just for shock value? how much of Isadora’s story did we miss? how was the undercroft tied in with Isadora when it was apparently a Gaunt secret? what even really was the undercroft?

yes, i know — “well arent they making a second one?” and yeah, im pretty sure they are, and maybe thats why we’ve gotten nothing more than a pile of bricks in the last year and a half. but, they should probably finish the first game before starting on a second.

this doesnt mean i dont love Hogwarts Legacy. i love the people ive met, the stories ive read, and i love capturing the screenshots i take from that game. the entire situation is just frustrating to no end.

#hogwarts legacy #not trying to be mean #actually i dont really care but #thought id give my share #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwartslegacy #hl

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kpop-s-akura · 1 month ago

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Like to Be You || b.cc

TEASER / Release Date: TBD

🌸Pairing: Bang Christopher Chan x fem!Reader 🌸Description: You and Chris have been dating for roughly half a year, not very long by most people's standards.

As expected in a relationship between an idol and a college student (and relationships in general), there's obstacles to overcome and things to learn, but you know you love each other very much — and love should be enough. And yet, there comes a breaking point and your and Chris' relationship hits a wall, as you two don't yet understand what it's like to be the other. 🌸Genre (s)/Content: SFW; angst; established relationship; curse words; mentions of familial issues; these will be added to and(/or) edited in the final work!

🌸Teaser Word Count: 540

🌸A/N: At the end; was too long lol

Happy reading!🖤🖤

🎶Now Playing:🎶 Like to Be You (feat. Julia Michaels) by Shawn Mendes

❀❀❀

“All right everybody, that’ll be all for today. I’ve uploaded the outline and I’ll see you all for the midterm; study hard!” The bustling of the students around me mingled with the low playing music that flowed through my earbuds — but neither did anything to distract me from the pounding headache that thumped my brain for the past day.

Week. Month, more like it.

Ever since the professors had us start thinking about our midterms and semi-preparing for them, it’s like a fire lit under my ass and I felt it in my temples.

While I wasn’t pulling all-nighters to study (yet) and explicitly killing myself over the prospective tests (yet), I was stressed to hell in a way I couldn’t even fathom.

Was it because the school made an internal error, and now our midterms were weeks earlier than other colleges?

It’s inconvenient, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

I mean I am in my senior year. But it wasn’t even my final midterm, I still have another in March; thank fuck the school didn’t screw up both testing dates.

Perhaps the ugly feelings of my depreciating status with my mom was still busting my back. Was I not as truly indifferent to what was going on?

Not like I thought I was.

My mom and I disagreed on many things, including how I would continue on with my life. It made for quite the strain on our bond and my mental health for a bit.

It was upsetting, but I adapted to our new dynamics and I often try to not think about it.

There was also the situation of my full-time job, which wasn’t offering me any rest from the business of school.

I had been working at the same department store for almost my entire college career, and I got promoted to manager status because of that.

So it wasn’t a matter of first-day (or even first-year) nervousness, it was just an adult job that gave me adult stress and adult anger.

There were many other problems going on in my life, substantial and infinitesimal, but I never once considered my relationship with Chris to be one of them.

Bang Christopher Chan. Stage name, Bangchan.

Leader of fourth generation K-pop boy group and global sensation: Stray Kids.

Never, in my wildest dreams — even the ones I had during a fever — did I imagine myself dating an idol.

While I rarely ever listened to K-pop before, I did like a couple of songs and recognized the occasional idol thanks to friends who were a part of the fandom; of which almost all were Stays.

And it’s not like Stray Kids weren’t one of the biggest names in South Korea, at the time. I could usually recognize their faces from the numerous billboards, media ads, or pictures my friends would show me.

But at first, I didn’t recognize Chris.

In the middle of the National Museum of Korea, amidst the dozens — maybe even hundreds, that day — of visitors, it’s no wonder he had his identity wrapped up so tightly.

Unfortunately, when you’re a global superstar like Chan, you’re bound to be recognized in public by one of your superfans.

And that’s how we crossed paths.

❀❀❀

🌸A/N: Happiest birthday to my dear, Channie!!!!🥳🎂🎊🎉

In America at least lol.

I wanted to post this for his birthday, but many complications happened (including, but definitely not limited to, Hurricane Helene). Even now, I'm posting this much later than I originally meant to🫠🫠🫠

Regardless, I'm happy to post this teaser for his special day instead☺️ I have no idea when this'll actually be posted, I'm crossing my fingers for it to be before the end of October, but I have much more free time to work on it as I'm on an extended break!

Happy birthday again to my special boy!🥰🫶

#stray kids #stray kids bangchan #bangchan #bang christopher chan #bangchan x reader #bangchan x y/n #sfw #angst #established relationship #oneshot #Like to Be You

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pa1nkill3r · 8 months ago

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Day 2,557 [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x GN!Reader

[Summary:] A boy comes into the joke shop with his mother; It felt all too weird for the one-eared owner to feel so at ease, something he never felt for the past 7 years.

[Warnings:] angst, sad, major character death (not Fred obv), reincarnation, grief, mourning, swearing

[a/n:] Scrolling through facebook and getting videos of children talking about their past lives really intrigued me. This is my first fic and it might be bad so please don’t bully me, I’m sensitive <3 (jkjk but I am open for constructive criticism!)

[a/n; March 2024] I wrote this draft back in 2021 or 2022 I believe, waiting desperately for the opportunity to finish and post this. That time never came. Now, 2 or 3 years later, I gravely admire my vocabulary, creativity, and passion for writing back then. Honestly speaking, moving schools killed my spark and I am desperate to get it back. For now, I am working on reviving that spark within me by going back to where I started. Even though the HP fandom isn't as active as it used to be, I would still like to share this piece I made because I am so, so proud of my younger self.

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There was something about Y/N wearing white that George loved so much. He always got so giddy and cute which in turn made their eyes roll and mouth grin.

The way Y/N looked sitting at the Great Hall with their white sleeves rolled to their elbows, one hand under their chin and the other twirling a spoon while their eyes dragged along their charms textbook, cramming in as much information as they could for the upcoming test that afternoon.

Or that time at the Yule Ball when they thought it’d be funny to wear an all white ensemble because: “What?...I wanted to feel like a bride at their wedding.” whilst having the best night with George, their “groom”.

Even small moments like when they would steal a shirt from George’s drawer and wear it to sleep. He loved every single bit of it, even if it cost him many shirts.

He truly never got enough of them wearing white. So seeing them in a casket wearing that same color 7 years ago, looking so peaceful and so… dead. That killed him. That’s the last time he will see them in white; That’s the last time he’s going to see them at all.

That was the last time he could actually feel their hand rather than just dried oil on linen canvas, framed in oak and hung atop his bed. How he wished their eyes could roll one more time at how stupidly in love their boyfriend is with them, especially in white.

Voldemort’s reign of terror had ended, as well as the lives of many others, and maybe even George. They were a horcrux he never made, his life force created by deep love and affection rather than the hunger for immortality.

It never got easier even after 7 years, he simply just got used to it.

He got used to the feeling of an empty bed. He got used to gripping onto a cold body pillow instead of a warm figure and a heartbeat with Y/H/C hair disturbing his lips. He got used to counting the days since their death which gravely disturbed Fred, his twin. He got used to waking up everyday and checked off a box from the calendar with an absurd amount of numbers on it.

Admittedly he is doing better than he did 7 years ago. No more jumping from every small sound and drawing out his wand in the middle of the night. No more vivid dreams of several dead bodies laid across the Great Hall. No more crying himself to sleep. No more missed dinners. No more grieving.

He’s longed for them longer than he has actually been with them. But his love never faltered. Not once.

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Day 2,557

It's now exactly 7 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. And in a month it would be the 7th anniversary of his obituary for Y/N on the Daily Prophet, a suggestion made by Percy to try and help his grieving brother. It helped, but not really.

The small May 2nd, 2005 box wrote “Baby Vic’s Birthday!” in bold red ink. George moved the yellow paper star that stuck gently onto the calendar with paper tape as Fred walked into his room. Envelope in his hands, bread between his teeth, and a beautiful haughty looking owl on his shoulder.

“Fun to finally see you up, Georgie!” Fred greeted sarcastically as George hummed in response. “Bill just sent an owl that little Vicky’s turning 5!"

"That is usually how birthdays work, Freddie." George joked, grabbing his wand and with a flick, his bed is magically fixed. "I'm not a dumbass, you know?" Fred chuckled lightly as he handed George the letter from Bill and Fleur, "They're hosting a party for her at the Burrow at 5."

He took the piece of parchment and flattened it by his desk before pulling it closer to his face, his back mindlessly pinning itself to the wall.

Dear Fred and George,

Bill here, As you should know, it's baby Victoire's 5th birthday today and we would really like love to have you two come by the Burrow at 5 pm.

Vic really misses you both. Uncle George this, Uncle Fred that. She’s going to be like you two one day, I’m tellin’ ya. She loves listening to stories you tell her, especially the ones about Y/N and Tonks. She thinks that they’re the coolest people ever and that she wished she could meet them. I simply told her that one day she would, but it’ll be far far away from now.

Hope to see you later! Please owl back immediately, Vic’s got Ginny’s temper.

xx Bill

“I’ve already owled them my ‘happy birthday’ letter before Chouette came.” Chouette, the owl cooed at the mention of her name. Slightly shuffling her feathers therefore lightly tickling Fred's neck, making him shiver. The haughty owl flew from Fred's shoulder to George's making the younger twin chuckle.

"Seems like Chouette is telling you to take a bath, mate." George laughed as the back of Fred's hand flew to his forehead. "I got us crepes and bread for breakfast! And you go on and call me stinky?" Fred exclaimed dramatically.

"How 'bout you be a dear and write to Bill and Fleur that we are going to Vic's party, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that." George agreed, taking out a roll of parchment from his desk drawer as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. "While I eat my breakfast and write this, will you be a dear and take a bath!" Fred cackled at his younger brother's statement. Though in a bit the sound of water dropping down the shower head echoed through the small flat above the shop.

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School owls poured in as numerous Hogwarts students wanted to take advantage of the annual “54% off ‘End of War’ sale” at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes held in memory of the fallen 50. Because in Fred and George’s philosophy, “...We might not be able to save them, but they can save our customers over 50% off of all our products!”

It seemed insensitive but it’s the thought that counts. They wanted to make sure that their passing didn’t go to waste, even if it is counted as a discount to the famous Diagon Alley shop.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were rather busy picking up and shipping out their joke products, sending it to the owls who were perched up in a little area at the back of the store, nibbling on insects Verity; a part of their staff had handed them before sending them back to the school her bosses previously dropped out of.

It was nearing lunch time when everyone wearing magenta robes stocked up the shelves again, having been sending out owls since 8 in the morning when they heard a clanging from the front doors, signaling that a customer had finally came; A middle aged woman looked starstruck whilst holding onto a young boy that’s slowly getting out of her grip, having the same eagerness as his mother.

It wasn’t unusual for customers to react this way coming into the Weasley’s joke shop. The boy’s eyes sparkled while the mother looked in admiration. The mother crouched down to hold onto her son, keeping him from running while his mouth spilled with words.

“Mum, we have to get something for Mia!” the boy cried out eagerly, eyes darting towards every single corner of the store. George’s mouth upturned into a sloppy grin whilst listening to the boy.

“Marty, that’s sweet of you, but we already got the quill she wanted.” The mother said quietly, running her hands over the boy’s shoulders, easing it. “And it’s your birthday...” George didn’t know what came after that as he took the chance and walked towards the small family with a big smile on his face, quickly followed by Fred.

“Heard it’s a little man’s birthday.” inclined George, hands in his pockets and head down turned. The mother looked up and stood from her spot, giggling slightly as she kept a hold of her son’s shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked, now being the one to crouch down in front of the boy.

The boy tilted his head to the side, eyes slightly strained. He looked both confused and hyper focused at the same moment. Though weird, George thought nothing of it. After all, he was a kid, the man he’s looking at has one ear, and the hyperfixation was quickly ended by the slight shake of his shoulders. The mother looked down at her son, silently telling him to introduce himself. And so he did.

"I'm Martin! I turn 6 today!" the boy said enthusiastically,bringing a smile on George's face. Being around Martin felt odd, it felt so unapologetically peaceful and rather… familiar.

"SIX?!" Fred loudly piped in. "Well now that's big, little man!"

The mother was slightly startled by the appearance of the ginger's twin, though the same cannot be said about Martin who simply smiled absentmindedly.

"I knew you before." said Martin, eyes targeting the younger twin. George smiled and kept close to the boy, keeping the conversation going. "Really?" he asked with vivid curiosity, he did not recognise the boy or his mother but fueling a child's imagination wouldn't hurt anyone.

"How?" piped in Fred, now also crouching beside his twin, "And why just him?" he asked comedically, pointing to his brother.

"Since we were 11." Answered Martin with no signs of struggle on his face. The red haired owners looked at each other, though more in disbelief than in confusion.

"Thought you said you were 6, Martin?" George asked with a kind look on his face. The boy’s mother shook her son’s shoulder harder than she did the past few times, mumbling “Marty, what did I tell you?” in tired disbelief.

“M’sorry mum.” Martin said with a pinch of sincerity before turning back to face the bigger man in front of him. “I was 20 before I became 6.” “Marty.”

Chilling, the owners thought. As they were 20 at the time of the battle of Hogwarts.

“I’m so sorry Mr.--”

“Weasley.” Fred replied as the confusion simmered throughout his twin brother. “S’really nothing to worry about Mrs.--?”

“Edevane. But I truly am sorry, he’s just a very imaginative little kid. Always has stories of his quote-unquote ‘past life’.“ she explained, making the kid become a bit mad. “But mum, it’s true!-”

“Marty, how about we look around the store, alright? Mr. and Mr. Weasley could show us around perhaps?” Mrs. Edevane hinted to the twin owners, relief gracing their legs as they were now able to stand on their feet.

“Yes, we can certainly do that! Come along Marty, tell us more about this ‘past life’ of yours.” Fred’s arm wrapped around the small boy’s shoulders, showing him around the color filled shop. “Sorry about that Mrs. Edevane.” he added mischievously, “Here at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, we like to encourage creativity and imagination.”

“--As it is the reason we got here.” George finished, giving Mrs. Edevane a kind smile as they start roaming around the shop. “Uhh. Mr. Weasley.” Her fingers tapped onto George’s shoulder. His head whipped around and mouth about to open when suddenly the 6 year old spoke; “Mum, Mr. Weasley’s name is George. This one’s Fred.”

The utter shock that went through the twin wizards was clear as day. No where in the shop did it say the owner’s names. Even their name tags; The little badge pinned on their suits merely wrote ‘Mr. Weasley’. Fred, being the initiator that he is, leaned forward. “Now how can you be so sure, Marty?” he teased, “What if I tell you that you’re wrong?”

Martin simply smiled, angling his head a bit to the side again. “Mr. George has a longer face, down turned eyes and eyebrows, he’s a bit taller than you, Mr. Fred. You have a squarer face and shorter features than him.” he explained smoothly and innocently. As if it’s something he’s observed over the course of his whole life.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid your son’s a genius.” George joked, even if he’s visibly disturbed, though nonetheless intrigued. Nobody has ever differentiated them this way, even their own mother. Though one person did. The one he cherished most. The mother smiled, holding onto her son once again.

“I’m no genius.” Martin spoke, a shy smile gracing his small little lips, so identical to the person’s portrait above George’s bed. He even said their typical response to their mind being praised.

“-- I just quietly observe.”

Martin spoke but George merely whispered. A shiver ran through his spine, heart pumping, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. It could’ve all been a coincidence. One big coincidence served on a silver platter, garnished with confusion and terrifying accuracy.

“Mr. Weasley?”

He snapped back, giving the woman a sign to continue. “Uh, I just wanted to ask... err. Why that big of a discount? Why is it 54% off of everything? That doesn’t really sound like a good marketing strategy, doesn’t it?” She asked curiously.

“Well Mrs. Edevane.” George started, seeing as Fred and little Martin were still going around the shop. “Remember the last wizarding war?” Mrs. Edevane shook her head. His smile faltered a bit but still kept his composure. “We’re, what you call it? Muggle--born?” Her eyebrows furrowed while her teeth sinked into her bottom lip. “Well, my daughter... err. Just started her first year and that McGonagall woman said that she’s a ‘muggleborn’.”

They truly didn’t know who they are.

“-- What I’m trying to say, Mr. Weasley, is that we, or at least I, am not magical. Nor is my husband.” He nodded, breathed in a bit as his mind tried to ease itself. The boy couldn’t have known who he is as they wouldn’t have known anything about the prophet, or could they?

“Well, Mrs. Edevane. 7 years ago at this date. The second wizarding war has ended. My brother-in-law defeated... him.” It was still hard to say his name, even years later. “V-Voldemort.”

She looked curious but silently let him continue. “Uh, remember when. Uh-uhm that bridge collapsed in muggle london? 7-8 years ago? A big hurricane happened? When a lot died like-” It was hard to explain. Truly. It was hard to live through it again.

“Like that Emmeline Vance lady?”

“Yes, exactly!” He exclaimed. “It was all caused by him. By wizards! Dark wizards!” Her previously bright face now looked horror struck. It was all making sense. “Seven years ago, this day. Everything ended at Hogwarts. As well as the lives of 54 on our side.” He wanted to mention one very special loss, but figured that she doesn’t need to know about it. She was just a muggle mother who brought her son birthday shopping. “We wanted to commemorate them.”

A sincere look graced upon her face, out of pity. “Is there any chance that you’ve seen anything from the ‘Daily Prophet’, Mrs. Edevane? Or your son?” He asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She shook her head, now gracing a look with pure confusion. “A-Anything. Like a paper? A newspaper with moving photographs? Or maybe a-a Quibbler?”

She shook her head. “Why’re you asking Mr. Weasley?” His mouth opened, about to burst out his concerns and held in grief to a complete stranger when; “George!”

It was Fred, hand resting on his twin’s shoulder as the six year old boy beside him just stood. “-- Can I talk to you? I need to talk to you.” He said, fright gracing his features and panic in his voice.

George nodded, bidding a quick goodbye to the mother and son who came in a few moments ago and calling for one of their faculty to give them the tour they wanted.

Fred pulled his twin to an empty corner of the shop. Sound muffled by the stacks of products ranging from fireworks to extendable ears. “That boy George.” Fred panted. Voice shaking. “He knows too much. Is there a chance that you put anything about how Y/N saved me?”

“Briefly. Why?” His heart was about to pop out of his chest at any moment. Any moment now his heart would be a new WWW product.

“He explained everything! Everything George! Knew things that he shouldn’t have!” Fred said, terrified. “What did he say?” asked George. Croaking out whatever’s left in his heaving lungs.

“He said that he saved me. Me and Percy! From the explosion! I didn’t think much of it at first, George! I knew that you wrote that in their obituary. But he just kept going.” Frightened. They were both frightened. “Everything they did. He knew.”

“How accurate was he?”

“Very. George. Disturbingly accurate.” Back straightened and composed, Fred stood back, eyes darting back and forth from his brother to the entrance of the shop. “He knew that they transfigured the rubble to sand. He knew that they cast that ring of fire shit they did. The diabolica thing to ward off the death eaters? Yeah. He named the spell. HE NAMED THE SPELL, GEORGE!”

“I heard you the first time!” George yelled back. Disturbed, yet he felt at peace. He could have the last goodbye he’s always wanted. “We need to talk to the boy, Fred.”

His twin nodded fervently, about to walk away from the corner when he felt an arm tug on his elbow. “Oi, how can we do it without worrying the mother?”

“Give whatever he wants for free. It’s his birthday after all. Now come on!”

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#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #fred and george #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley angst #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley one shot #fred weasley #bill weasley #fleur delacour #ginny weasley

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detectivemarvelingcomics · 1 year ago

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Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 12]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Light Alcohol, Attempted Kidnapping, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 9.9K

(12/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: Not my inner Jason Todd fan coming out in this one lmfao

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

2009

“(Y/N), this is Jason, he’ll be staying with us for a while.” Your father told you this one day. A boy stood behind him, and you could see the trouble behind his eyes. Or maybe it was more of the way he looked down on you, sure he was a head or two taller but that doesn’t mean he could act that way, or at least that’s what your mom always told you, don’t let people look down on you for being you. So, you matched his ego, as best as a child could at least.

“Isn’t this the boy who tried to steal your tires?” You asked him.

“Hey,” the boy snarked.

“Be nice,” your father said sternly. Your’s and Jason’s mouths zipped shut. Bruce looked between you both. “Jason, Alfred will show you to your room, (Y/N), behave.” His voice, although stern, had a warm familiarity to it, one that threw Jason for a loop. Then, Bruce marched off to his office to do whatever Wayne work he needed, leaving you and Jason behind.

“And who are you supposed to be?” You huffed with your arms crossed. Jason only stuck his tongue out toward you and walked over to follow Alfred up the stairs. You, now fuming, followed after him. “Hey! I asked you a question!” You demanded an answer.

“He’s the new Robin, Miss (Y/N),” Alfred explains.

“New one? What happened to Dick?”

“He’s spending more time with the Titans,” Alfred explains. “Now, your father expects you to get along with Master Todd, or to at least be civil with him,” Alfred implores.

“Father?!” Jason gasps.

“Get along?!” You two clearly had different priorities.

“Yes, now, go, Miss (Y/N), make sure Master Todd is comfortable,” Alfred says before walking off. “And, before you say anything, I will know if you ignore him,” he says and you pouted in response.

“Fine,” you grumbled while dragging the dufflebags in.

“I can do it myself,” Jason took them from your grasp and hauled them in.

“Alfred told me to help!”

“I don’t need help!”

“I don’t care! You haven’t seen Alfred when you don’t listen!” You grabbed the other bag. “Geez, what’s in here? Rocks?”

“None of your business!” Jason pulls that one in too and pushes you out of his room, shutting the door once you are out, but it was timed wrong, and the door hit the back of your head harshly. Your eyes blacked out for a second, and your vision didn’t come back until you were on the floor.

“Ow!” You winced loudly and glared behind you, but the door remained closed. You looked down at the floor, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’re such a meanie, I’m gonna tell dad,” you sniffled before running off.

Though, if you had decided to look back just a bit longer, you would’ve seen that Jason opened the door as soon as he heard you shout, and was already a foot out the door to check if you were okay before you ran off.

“Geez, she’s such a spoiled baby,” Jason huffs. If you ran off like that, you’d be fine. He told himself this as he walked back into his room to unpack, and he told himself this as he kept unpacking, but the more he told himself the more worried he got. “Ugh, I hate it here already,” he walked out, wandering the halls of Wayne Manor. He didn’t even know where to start, though. He’d just arrived here today and now he’s on some goosechase to find his whatever’s daughter. “Hey, uh… (Y/N)? Where are you?” He calls absently. “You okay?” He listened closely, trying to see if he could hear you anywhere. He’s always wanted a little sister, but now that there was one in front of him he’s not too sure, he didn’t know they would be so… whiny. Then, luckily for him, he heard your voice in one of the rooms and he followed it before opening the door carefully and only a little. You were standing in front of a telephone, your back to the door and both hands holding it while you spoke to someone on the phone.

“Hello, I am calling from the Batcave, can you hand the phone to Nightwing please?” You rocked on your heels, standing atop a dangrous pile of books that wobbled every time you did so. “Hi, Dick, when are you coming home?” You asked quietly. Jason couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation. “He’s mean…” your voice was so fragile. “Dad and Alfred told me to be nice, but I don’t think he likes me.” You waited for a bit, probably listening to Dick. “I know we just met, but it wasn’t like this when we met… what do you mean it was exactly like this? Nuh uh! At least you were trying, I was the one being mean then but I know better now… well, yeah, I know not everyone can be like you! But… I miss you, come home soon, okay?” You waited for a bit again. “Okay. I’ll be nice to him, I promise. Bye bye,” you hung up the phone, leaning forward slightly to reach where you were supposed to but it back and, just as Jason thought, the books slipped under you, and he was running inside faster than he could think, catching you by the shoulders before you could fall forward and slam your head on the desk.

“Geez, (Y/N), you’re just asking to get hurt!” He shouts.

“Nuh uh!”

“Why did you think that was safe anyway?!” He places you on the ground and you zip your mouth shut.

“My older brother says that if I can’t say anything nice then I shouldn’t say anything at all,” you shook your head.

“Hello? I just saved your life!”

“You should’ve just let me fall so the front part of my brain gets smushed too!”

“You’re such a brat!”

“You’re a jerk!”

“I don’t even know what I was thinking coming here to check on you!”

“Me neither!”

“Fine, I’m leaving!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Jason leaves first and you jump on the couch. A few seconds later, the door cracks open just slightly.

“How does the back of your head feel?” Jason asks without walking in.

“Alfred put ice on it earlier, it’s okay… I told him I fell down the stairs,” you said quietly and you heard Jason laugh outside, but quickly he stopped.

“Did you tell Bruce?”

“… no.” And you had no intention of actually telling him either.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

2022

“Alright, exam 2,” you clapped your hands together and looked among the crowd of students. “As you’ve all known, this is a mock hunt. Behind me is a controlled part of the woods and standing along the perimeter of the circle are various other knights to make sure you don’t get lost and bigger monsters don’t come in. To pass exam 2 and to enter the Knighthood, you must return with a specific beast, alive or dead is up to you. Right now, Marion is handing out tile cards with the beast you are to find,” as you instructed this, Damian took the circular card from Marion and flipped it over. Behind it looked to be a fox-like creature with antennae on it’s head and between its ears. “Does everyone have a card? Okay then, go!” You blew the whistle and the teens rushed past you and into the forest, all of them running for a head start on the competition, while Damian stayed behind. You looked at him in a way to ask what the hold up was.

“Just letting them have a chance first,” he says.

“Wow, so chilvalrous,” you chuckled.

“Alright, I think even Niers caught something by now,” he rolls his shoulders back and sports a confident smirk.

“Niers? Oh, baby brother’s making friends now, huh?”

“Friends might be pushing it but if I’m planning on staying here for a while I’d might as well get close to some people.”

“Right… huh?” Your smile falls and you turn to him, but he was already running off into the forest. Staying? Oh no. No, no, he can’t stay here, not when he has a life set up for him in Gotham already.

“Whoa, you look worried,” Carter walks up to you and hands you a water bottle.

“I think Damian wants to stay here with me,” you muttered.

“Is that so bad?”

“Yeah, very.”

“Why? You two seem really close, everyone’s talking about how quickly he ran through the first exam, and I’m pretty sure he’s about to ace this one too, he’ll be a good addition.”

“He’s a teenager, Carter.”

“So are all of them,” he nods toward the forest.

“He has a good thing going for him in 617.”

“So did you.”

“But… argh,” you groaned and dragged a hand down your face. “They’re looking for him right now, I bet. Our family.”

“And they won’t find him,” Carter shakes his head. “They don’t have the tech.”

“I know that, but… I don’t know, I just have this weird nagging feeling that there’s this big picture that we’re both missing, you know?” You bit the tip of your thumb, but eventually you shook it off. “Whatever, we’ll just wait for the recruits to come back,” you dismissed the notion, but Carter wasn’t too convinced. You could tell from the way he shifted his weight onto one leg and about the wary glance he gave you but, with multiple easrs listening, he knew not to say anything more.

2010

Your feet rocked back and forth, peeking from behind the curtain to see who was in the crowd. You really didn’t expect much though, your dad was always busy at this time, your mom too, Dick was always preoccupied with the Titans nowadays, and even Alfred had a family event to go to.

Then again, there was Jason. But he wasn’t really interested in anything you did, he was more focused on whatever it was that Robins did, always sticking around by your dad, always training, and even when he wasn’t you didn’t want to bother him since it was so rare he’d get a day off anyway. Plus, he was probably patrolling tonight with your dad, so you didn’t even bother to ask him.

But, it would’ve been nice if even one of your family members showed up today. You felt a wave of stage fright wash over you when you looked at the piano, a small hobby you’d picked up when you heard your dad listening to a piano album in his office one day, and you were as enchanted by it as he was. When you expressed interest in it he was quick to find you a tutor so you could excel, and you were always grateful for that. If only he had the time to see the result, though. You couldn’t be upset, though.

It was kind of cool, having your dad be a superhero, that is, it just wasn’t cool that you couldn’t brag about it at all. And it was even cooler that your brothers were as fantastic as they were, you’d always watch with silent awe whenever they’d train and you’d always cry when one of them would come home hurt, and every time your dad promised you that they would return home alive. At your age, maybe, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of them not coming home at all.

“(Y/N) Wayne, Tchaikovsky’s Valse Sentimentale,” your tutor announces. You walked onto the stage carefully, ignoring the stares as you did so, but soon you had to turn to the audience, not because you had to, no, but because of the commotion you heard suddenly. The door opened quickly and someone rushed in, obviously disheveled and patting the stray hairs down while he smoothened out his suit.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me,” Jason ducked his head and walked quickly down the aisle, he walks in front of a few people. And you felt your heart soar. He came, he came to see your recital, and as soon as he was situated, he waved at you and shot you a thumbs up, and you grinned at him, curtseying quickly before sitting at the piano bench. Your hands rested on top of the keys and you took a deep breath before starting the song.

Now that you thought about it, while your hands moved across the piano in a way that was impressive for your age, every time you practiced this song Jason was in the room with you. As soon as you’d enter he’d follow after you, say something to tease you and get your riled up, before disappearing for a moment, only to come back soon after with a book in his hands while you practiced. And every time he saw you focused on a piece he’d never say anything, he’d only ever chime up after he noticed you taking a break, and once you fell back into your practice he’d stop again. But he was there. And you never really thought about it until now, as he watched among this crowd of strangers. He’s probably heard this melody enough times to know how to play it himself, and still every quick look at him showed you that he was as impressed as the rest of the audience.

And when you finished the piece, his cheers were the loudest. As soon as you hit the last chord he was out of his seat cheering for you, and sure, it was embarrassing, his voice seemed to bounce off the stage, but it made your whole chest fill with warmth. You stood up from the bench and curtseyed again before walking backstage.

“(Y/N)! Over here!” Jason was quick to follow you and your tutor noticed the interaction.

“Oh! He’s my brother,” you pointed him out and the tutor nodded.

“Here, I gotcha something, kiddo,” Jason pulled out a pink rose and handed it to you. “I saw someone giving them out in front of the auditorium, so I figured I’d get one for you,” he says. Then he pulls out another one. “And this one’s from Dick, he couldn’t make it, but he told me to get one for him,” he says.

“Thanks, Jay,” you smiled. You looked behind him.

“Bruce isn’t here,” he says. “Something came up,” he quickly adds.

“That’s okay, I figured dad wasn’t going to come anyway,” you shrugged and held onto the two roses tightly. “Thank you for coming! You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, you didn’t even invite me,” he says sarcastically.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” you frowned. Jason hesitates and takes a deep breath before he rubs the top of your head with a playful roughness. “Hey! It took forever to do that!”

“Of course I want to come! You’re my little sister!” He says and you inhale sharply.

“I’m your what?” You asked him quietly. For a year now you’d been trying to get closer to him, for a year you’ve spent time with him whenever you could and whenever he didn’t chase you out of his room, just because you didn’t want him to feel alone in that big wide mansion. You didn’t want him to feel the same loneliness you felt. And just now, at this moment, you felt seen. You’d considered Jason a brother the day you met him, your father was never the kind to just bring anyone in, and being together this long only solidified that bond in your head, but never did you hear Jason acknowledge it until now.

“Aw, geez, don’t make me say it again,” Jason’s cheeks dust with a light pink and you smiled, a real one this time that even reached your eyes. Jason side eyed you and sighed. “I didn’t think I even needed to say it, you’re my sister,” he repeats. “And, I’m here to fulfill older brother duties, so why don’t we go grab ice cream?” A mischievous smirk rises on his face and you gave him a confident nod.

“Yes! Definitely!” You were almost too excited. You’d always seen your friends go out with their families after school and you always had that secret hope that one day you’d see your dad come out of the car instead of Alfred, and when Dick moved in you had hoped he’d be the same, and sure sometimes your mom picked you up but she was never the kind to take you around Gotham, nor was it even safe to do so, but now? After your recital? This is like a dream come true!

“Good, I know a place,” Jason pulls your coat out of his backpack and wraps it around your shoulders. “Just hold onto me, yeah? Just in case.”

“Yes!” You pushed your arms through the sleeves and followed close behind him out of the auditorium.

Maybe you did take Jason for granted sometimes, you weren’t really being fair to him sometimes. There would be days you’d compare him to Dick, but that wasn’t something you should have done. They were two different people, you knew that. Dick, he’s a good brother, but when it comes to being in a team and a leader he had to put the Titans first and you understood that even if you wished he chose you instead. Jason, now that you really thought of it, he always put you first. He came here today, and you knew that he didn’t have to. You could see his very poor attempts at hiding the bruises on his hands and arms while you held his hand to walk across the street, you saw the way his face winced when you first grabbed onto it. Even the suit he wore had mud caked on the bottom of the trousers that was messily wiped off.

After that day, Jason seemed to be the one to pick you up more often than Alfred. No matter how beat up he would get, or how busy patrol was, ice cream after school was a must.

2022

So you all waited, each knight staring into the woods with bated breath. And as the hour passed with small talk and careful glances, it was only natural that everyone grew tense.

“The recruits should be running back by now,” you looked at your watch. Carter leans in toward you, checking the time as well.

“Yeah, just about,” he agrees.

“Damian should’ve been here by now,” you added quickly after. Sure, he was in new territory, but you knew him well enough to know that he would’ve adapted quickly so… where is he? “Actually, where is anyone?” You asked.

“It’s a little too quiet,” Carter looks into the woods. You pulled your phone out and Dailed Alex’s number, it took a while before it finally connected.

“(Y/N), we might have a problem.” And that was enough to get you to charge in.

“Cap! Wait! We can’t just interfere!” Carter called after you. He looked to the other knights behind him and rubbed his head harshly. “Henry! You’re in charge, if any of the recruits come back tell them to wait out here,” Carter ran after you as soon as Henry nodded.

“Tell me the situation, Alex!” You said.

“High level beast, knocked out a few of our guys already, I don’t know the full details yet but I’m en route too.”

“Have you seen Damian?!”

“No, I’ve been keeping an eye out for him too.”

“Dammit,” your eyes were scanning the area constantly. “Damn,” you skid to a stop just as a daemon charged past you and bang it quickly fell to the ground with a bullet wound shot through. Carter took this chance to catch up with you, handing you the rifle and urging you to keep running.

“That definitely shouldn’t have been here,” you watched the daemon struggle one last time before stilling completely. “Damian?!” There was no response. You knew he could handle himself, usually, but that anxiety you had for your siblings never went away. The way your heart would clench at the thought of either of them getting hurt, either of them getting abandoned, it terrified you. And the monsters here are so different from the ones in Gotham. At least in Gotham they talk, here they just kill. No rhyme, no reason, just horror.

And you just sent your brother out here to get one of them. Stupid. He barely knows how any of this world works.

Becoming an older sibling was something you never really thought about, it came naturally to you according to Tim and according to Dick you were perfect at it. But never did it stop that fear. Whatever fear you had for your older brothers, the way it increased ten-fold after what happened to Jason, and the way it grew when you saw the first Robin who was younger than you… how the hell did those two do it. At least you knew Tim and the others could handle themselves, but what about you?

You who could hardly defend yourself, you who would call them straight home just to help you with something as mundane as getting rid of a spider, for all you knew they could have been fighting some intergalactic monster and then there you were, at home and safe.

And now here you were, aiming your rifle at the daemon twice your size. Oh, how Dick would have a heart attack if he saw you now, and how Jason would cry. Even seeing the way Damian’s shock manifested was enough to make your heart heavy once again.

The sister they once knew was gone, and only you remained.

2012

“Dad?” You walked into the bat cave, your hands automatically rubbed your arms up and down. Would it kill him to put a heater down here?

“What is it, (Y/N)?” He was at the bat computer, neither looking at you and just barely acknowledging you. You kicked at nothing in particular.

“Where’s Jason?” Your question cut through the silence of the cave. You were used to your brothers being gone for a good chunk of time, and usually they told you an approximate time of when they’d be back. And this was no exception, right before Jason had left he had told you he’d be back in a week tops, he even promised it. He promised because there was a book signing that you both wanted to go to, to be honest you hadn’t even heard of the author, you just wanted to do something with him, anything. He’s just been so busy, in and out with missions and always off doing something that you couldn’t follow him into. But it’s been a month now. Whenever the missions would run long you’d usually get a postcard or a call from them, but it’s been silent on his end. He wasn’t picking up his phone or answering your texts. Alfred only eyed you warily before turning to your father.

“You have to tell her eventually,” he says quietly. His voice, however, echoed around you. Your father stayed still. Was his breath actually shaking?

��Tell me what?” You took a shaky step toward him. Your father, however, remained silent.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says again. “He’s her brother as much as he is your son,” he says. He stands up and removes his mask so you could see him completely. It was amazing, as soon as the mask came off, there was your father. He walked to you slowly and put a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t…” his voice was choked up. “I don’t expect you to understand this yet, (Y/N),” he says.

“Where is my brother?” You asked him again. By now, you were fully aware of what your father and your siblings did at night. You always had an idea from what they’d tell you, and it was only recently that you heard the details. You had found out on accident, actually, when Jason tumbled in late one night into your room on accident. He miscounted the windows, his room was right next to yours, after all, and that night you happened to be up late watching a TV Show, so imagine your surprise when your brother landed beaten on your rug. You knew that what they did was dangerous. But you trusted your father enough to keep them safe until the end, he always did, he promised you he would. But his silence scared you.

“I think… Dick would’ve been better at telling you this,” he sighed and dragged a tired hand down his face until it covered his mouth. He looked to Alfred, who only shook his head. “Jason’s dead, (Y/N).” He was always so blunt, but something about what he said terrified you.

“Master Bruce, at least try to be more gentle with your words,” Alfred says. Bruce held his hand up to stop him.

“She deserves to know the truth,” Bruce says. “She was closer to him than I ever could be.”

“The relationship between siblings is far different than the relationship between father and son,” Alfred shakes his head.

“Did I hear you wrong?” You asked, your own voice was wavering. Bruce reached out to you again and his hands held onto your shoulders awkwardly, then his hands came down in front of him instead. It was a solemn sight, one you weren’t used to seeing on him.

“No, (Y/N), you heard me right. His body should be flying in by tomorrow,” he says. You shook your head again. Why did he sound like that? Why did he sound so… heartless?

“You promised.”

“I know I did!” His voice roared and you stepped further away from him. “(Y/N), I’m sorry.”

“No, no… it’s…” you stopped the words before they came out. It’s your fault. You wanted to tell him that so badly, but just by seeing the way he was now, you knew the truth, or at least you hoped you did. He wouldn’t have let Jason die, he wasn’t a monster. “I’m gonna go.”

“Where? It’s late, (Y/N).”

“Mom’s.”

“It’s dangerous in that neighborhood at this time.”

“I don’t… I can’t be here right now, dad,” you shook your head and, before your father could say anything more, you turned around and left the cave.

“Miss (Y/N), please, stay tonight, you can go to your mother in the morning,” Alfred was the one to follow you, why wasn’t it your dad?

“I don’t want to be here right now,” you pulled your jacket from the coat rack.

“I know it’s hard, Miss (Y/N), but no one can protect you right now,” Alfred insists. No one? At all? Dick’s busy, you know that, and you know he doesn’t like coming home anymore, but your dad is sitting at the computer right now not doing anything as far as you know. “Miss (Y/N), Jason wouldn’t want you to act this way.”

“Well, he’s not here to tell me that anymore, is he?” You rubbed the tears out of your eyes before they had a chance to roll down your face.

“(Y/N),” Alfred calls to you again, more stern this time, and you pivoted on your heel.

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?!” You burst. Alfred only sighs and hands you your scarf.

“At least stay safe on your way there, I’ll drive you to your mothers,” he says. “It’s dangerous for a young girl such as yourself to be walking alone in Gotham,” he implores. You looked at your hands. Pristine. Near perfect. And whenever you thought about Jason’s, whenever you would hold onto his hands when you were younger, you never thought about how rough they were compared to yours.

“Okay, Alfred,” you wrapped the scarf around your neck. You were young, but you were no stranger to death. It seemed to surround this family. Your father’s enemies, Dick’s parents, and now Jason. You hated to admit that death was as much a part of this family as you were. “Thanks, Alfred,” you followed him out. You didn’t want to think about it. Because no matter how bad things got, Jason always came home. And now you have to deal with the new reality that the last memory you had of him was his back, because you were too tired to wake up properly to say goodbye.

Goodbye. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. You wonder what his last thoughts were.

2022

Damian, meanwhile, was occupied.

“Niers! Duck!” Damian shouts. As soon as Niers bows his head, Damian pulled the knife from his belt and flung it at the beast who towered over him. And the beast roared, louder than before, it shook the forest around it and it instilled fear into the all the recruits who had bound together. It’s eyes were crazed, bloodshot, and frantically searching the group for whatever. As soon as the larger monsters came out, all of the recruits were quick to regroup, something about strength in numbers. But that plan backfired because now an impenetrable fear shook the group, and it debilitated everyone except for the one who has seen much worse.

“Where are the Knights? They should be here by now!” Retta’s hands dug through her hair and Damian watched her carefully. Sometimes, he forgot that it wasn’t normal for him to be used to these situations. Whatever frustration he felt from this huge group not being able to find it in themselves to step up to action he tried to push down. The beast snarled, staring into Damian’s eyes and locking him into a face off.

Damian takes a deep breath, it wasn’t moving, it was almost like it was studying him the same way he studied it.

“Hugo, hand me your sword,” Damian says quietly. Hugo was still. “Hugo, give it to me.”

“It’s mine, I can’t,” Hugo says.

“Do you want to die?” He hisses. Hugo flinches and, with some hesitation, hands him the sword. Damian takes a step closer to the beast and it growls, causing him to flinch back for a moment before regaining his composure. Slowly, now, he approached the monster. Just moments ago it was on a rampage, striking fear into the recruits and even injuring a few in its rage, but now it was still, the commotion had died down, and the beast had been in a guarded stance since then.

And then it roared. It roared and charged the group. And Damian held the sword up, ready to strike, but he didn’t get the chance. Not when the array of magic circles surrounded the monster and the bang of a shotgun rang out. The bullet lodged into the beast’s shoulder and the magic circles kept it in place.

“Recruits! Fall back!” Your voice was commanding, but it was a welcome sound to the teens who had seen a true monster for the first time.

“Follow me!” Carter’s voice was next, sword at the ready just in case. “How long can you hold it, Xander?” Carter turns to Alex, who was too focused to respond. Alex’s hands shook as he brought them together, bringing the magic circles surrounding the creature closer to bridge the gaps.

“Just go, we’ll follow close behind,” you answered for him, reloading the shotgun and holding it up.

“Sister, wait!” Damian shouted before you could take the shot. “It’s not dangerous! It’s just scared!” Damian shouts. You looked at him, and you took a deep breath, then you brought your finger to your lips as if to tell him to be quiet. So Damian shut his mouth.

“Monster’s feel no emotions, Damian,” you said loudly to negate his previous statement in front of the other teens. “Fall back with the rest,” you aimed your rifle again, noticably hitting a nonvital spot. Damian nodded and followed the others away from the scene.

“I can’t hold it for long, (Y/N),” Alex says.

“I know, just give me enough time to look at it,” you answered. You slung the rifle across your back and approached the beast, and soon it stopped struggling. It stared at you and you looked around for any sort of identification and… bingo. The dog tags were near hidden by the beast’s fur but you could just barely make out the writing on it. MM-93. “Okay, break!” You backed up and Alex separated his hands, causing the magic circles to separate entirely before dissapating. The beast breathes heavily, staring at you intently, before whimpering, turning around, and leaving.

“Damian figured it out fast.”

“He’s a bright kid, that one,” you huffed.

“Let’s head back, we’ll tell them that the beast as subdued,” Alex catches his breath.

“Should I just pity induct them all in?” You asked.

“That seems rather unfair,” Alex shakes his head. “We’ll review the footage of the test and go off of that.”

“How the hell did it get close anyway? Who’s in charge of this sector?” You asked him, keeping your guard up in case more daemons were around.

“I was,” Alex answered quietly. You shot him a worried look.

“Losing your touch so soon?” You tried to joke.

“Somehow, it slipped through my radar, nothing can do that,” Alex responds. “Whatever it is, whoever they are, they’re getting smarter,” Alex was on edge. “What’s your theory, (Y/N)?”

“I know they’re human, and that’s about it. Mixing human and beast DNA, it’s…” you couldn’t find the right word for it.

“You don’t need to say it,” Alex shakes his head. “The one we have in captivity right now, I know you went to see it earlier, how’s its progress?”

“Slow, it’s been near impossible to get any samples from it,” you shook your head.

“And its identity?”

“Unknown,” you shook your head. “We’ll discover more later,” you nodded, ending the subject as you and Alex left the woods.

“Recruits, good job,” you said after mustering a confident facade. “There was an unforseen circumstance, and you responded well. Usually many people would run away and think only of themselves, but instead you came together, and that thinking is commendable. We’ll review the scouter’s notes and whatever footage we have to grade all of you equally since we were unable to fully complete the test, return home until then, you’ll hear from us soon,” you instructed. But the air was still tense. “The beast has been taken care of, carefully,” you finally said, and some people seemed relieved while others seemed skeptical. Regardless, they slowly dispersed, except for a small group that had found their way to your kid brother.

“You should talk to them,” Carter urges.

“Yeah, yeah,” you handed him your rifle and approached the group. “So why are you all hanging around?” You asked. For the most part they seemed awestruck that you were even looking at them.

“I believe they’re big fans of yours, sister,” Damian says with a snarky tone.

“I still can’t believe your sister is the Captain Wayne,” Lowen whispers.

“What? Want an autograph?” You joked.

“Could you?” Retta’s eyes shone. You didn’t think they were serious, but when they pulled out pieces of paper you were surprised, hell, you never even did this in your last universe.

“Uh… sure?” You took a pen and scribbled a messy signature on all of them. “I’m sorry about that scare earlier, our job is to control the testing environment and yet multiple high-level beasts found their way in, it’s good that you’re all uninjured,” you said.

“Damian was cooler though!” Niers chimes in. “He was ready to fight the daemon before you all showed up!”

“Was he now? I believe it,” you nodded. “Actually, now that I’m really looking at you all, you’re staying in the dormitories, right?”

“How’d you know?” Luciana asks.

“Well, I am close with your siblings,” you smiled. “And you’ve all been grouped together since Academy days so I know of your faces,” you nodded. “Except for you, Hugo, new addition?” You turned to Retta.

“Uh, ah,” she stammers. “Yeah! New addition,” she brings him closer to the group.

“Good on you all then, I’ll just grab Damian,” your hand habitually rubs the top of his head and he glares at you.

“Don’t embarrass me, sister.”

“Oh, please, it’s part of the job description,” you grinned. “Go then, don’t let us hold you up,” you urged the group to disperse and, once they did, your expression fell.

“You’re smart for that,” Damian says.

“For what?”

“Alleviating the mood,” he says.

“Of course, it was an error on our part, we can’t have them shaken up for something they’re not responsible for. Plus, we don’t want people thinking the Guard has lost their touch,” you said. Alex and Carter make their way over to the two of you. “We’re heading back, I have a lot to train this one for if he’s going to be staying awhile,” you said.

“Naturally, Captain, we’ll handle things here,” Alex reassures you.

“Leave the report on my desk, I’ll handle it tomorrow,” you nodded. “Damian, let’s go, I’m about to crash course you on everything you need to know to make it here.”

“Right…” Damian nods. “I’m ready.”

2015

The mask was still stuffy no matter how often he wore it. But, if it kept his identity a secret the best, then it would have to do. With vigilant eyes and ears, he stood above Gotham city. It was almost the exact same as when he left, and that was a problem. One he would have to deal with himself if Bruce couldn’t. But, amidst the grumbles and schemes, there was one voice that seemed to echo above the others.

“Do you even know who I am?!” That voice stopped Jason dead in his tracks. He looked around him. No, how could this be possible? “Aw, hell, I didn’t think I’d ever use that line,” the voice slurred. Jason ran toward that voice and immediately saw you. You were trying to tug your arm away from whoever was holding it. “Get your… Get your hands off of me, asshole,” you tried to yank it again, but your drunk stupor hindered you. Jason turned away, he had things to do, important things. Besides… he was sure Dick would’ve come running to help you.

But that didn’t stop him from watching from a distance. Why weren’t you fighting back? Where’s Dick? Or anyone? Were you out alone? Hell… wait. Jason did the math in his head and, once it clicked, he was behind you and the stranger in moments. You had completely passed out while the man tried to lug you along with him, but he stopped his movements when he heard the click of a gun behind him.

“Who the fuck?” The man turns around and Jason didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. “Fuck you, who do you think you are? Do you know who I am?” The man shouts while he clasps his side. Jason paid no mind, instead he hauled you over his shoulder. “Fine, take the bitch for-” Jason only responded by kicking him against the wall before continuing out of the alley. He adjusted you enough that you were slumped against his back, holding onto the back of your knees securely while your arms hung loosely over his shoulders. Then, as if this wasn’t enough, he suddenly felt you sniff his shoulder.

“(Y/N), are you kidding me?!” Jason nearly drops you.

“Ooh… you know who I am too?” You asked. “Mm… Sauvage Men’s Cologne, I didn’t know vigilantes cared for what they smelled like,” your words were laced together.

“Well, I didn’t know daughters of billionaires just went around barhopping when they’re underage.”

“I’m not underage!”

“Yes you are!”

“How would you know?” He felt your glare, but he just shook his head and you knocked against his helmet.

“Why not take this off? Isn’t it stuffy?” You asked.

“No.”

“Ugh, you’re stubborn,” you rocked back and forth and Jason nearly lost his balance. “You know what? Now that I say that, I only knew one other person who wore Sauvage!”

“Yeah, yeah-”

“But I always told Jason that it made him smell old,” you laughed.

“It did not!”

“Oh! You know Jason too then?” You pulled your phone out and held it in front of his face.

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Jason groans.

“Look, look, this is me and my brother, like, three years ago,” you showed him a picture of the two of you. Jason’s shoulders relaxed now, he hadn’t seen that picture for a while. It was taken by Dick at one of the galas, you’d somehow pranked him by shoving his face into cake and, while he was not amused in any way, you laughed until you couldn’t breathe. “Wait, sorry, that’s a shitty picture of us, I swear I have nicer ones,” you tried to scroll through your phone, but the more pictures you went through the more embarrassing they got.

“Why the hell do you have so many pictures of m— of him?” He asks.

“Why not? He’s my brother.”

“Was.”

“Is,” you corrected him. “Death doesn’t separate people, people do,” you knocked your head against his shoulder. Then he heard you snoring. Jason groaned again and readjusted you along his back, he didn’t even know where to take you, really, he just couldn’t leave you there. Imagine this sight, the Red fucking Hood carrying (Y/N) Wayne to god knows where. He wasn’t stupid enough to just drop you off at the manor but…

He instead found himself struggling up the fire escape of a much too tall apartment complex. Six flights in, he paused and took a deep breath.

“The shit I do for you, (Y/N),” he curses and presses on until he reaches the top floor. He bends down to set you on the patio bench, but somehow you found a way to cling onto him. “Come on, (Y/N), let go.”

“Jay?” Your voice slurred. “Your finally home, that’s good,” you spoke to yourself mainly.

“I’m not Jason.”

“I know,” you muttered while Jason tried to put you down again. “But you remind me of him, so let me just pretend, okay?” You yawned.

“Jason Todd’s dead,” he says harshly. “Let go, (Y/N),” he pulls you off of him and stretches his aching back. He sits down at the other bench and your eyes remained closed. “What… what would you do if he was still alive?”

“Smack him.”

“Why?!” Jason’s head whipped toward you.

“Fucker missed my recital… it wasn’t even worth playing the piano anymore,” you adjusted yourself so you were comfortable.

“You love playing the piano,” he said softly.

“I loved spending time with him,” you corrected. “Some of the only times I saw him and we weren’t arguing were when I practiced,” you slung your arm over your eyes.

“Did you miss him?”

“Always, he’s my brother,” your voice was slow. “He wouldn’t miss me though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“All I ever did was annoy him,” you tried to sit up, but your spinning head kept you plastered to the chair. “He would always complain about how much of a hassle it was to watch over me, he hated when he had to play babysitter. He always wanted to…” you hesitated, “he always preferred being with my dad. My dad does some cool stuff as a job and Jay always cared about that more, having to do anything with me was a drag for him. So, I miss him, a lot, but I know he’s having the time of his life without me.”

Jason listened carefully to your rant, and at one point, you just quiet, not necessarily expecting a response at all. Your words sunk into a whisper, and soon they became snores. He did miss you. He’d always wanted a little sister, and to him you were the best one he could have ever had. Any chance he got he would brag about you to his teammates. Watching over you was one of his favorite things to do, he could take a break from patrolling, and he could spend time with you. Someone who was fundamentally so different from him. He who grew up on the streets and you who was born with a silver spoon.

“What about your other brother?”

“Dick? Oh... we don’t talk much anymore,” you shook your head.

“What?! Why?”

“He moved,” you shrugged. “And he has his own thing going on, I can’t bother him with dumb stuff like…” you zipped you lips shut.

“Like what?”

“Like changing my tires…” you mumbled. Jason’s shoulders slumped. “Or fixing my faucet, or… or picking me up from a party I didn’t even want to go to… I can’t even call him anymore because he’s so busy, he never answers,” you kept ranting. “And I don’t want to bother him, everyone has their own thing going on, and plus I have Google so I can figure things out, I always do.”

“Aren’t you rich? Why isn’t your dad helping you?”

“Oh, dad doesn’t give a fuck about me,” you laughed. “I renounced the family business for good and now… now it’s like I don’t even exist to him,” you scoffed. “I mean, you saw me, I was way out past midnight with some stranger, and dad never checked up on me once. Even now, I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How so? You’re still a stranger,” you shrugged. Your phone rang and you looked down at it.

“That your brother?”

“Yeah, Timmy,” you yawned.

“Timmy?”

“Mmhmm…” you declined the call and turned over on your stomach.

“At least answer the phone!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine…” you waved him off. “Good night,” your breathing evened out.

“At least one of us is sleeping soundly,” he leans against the balcony. He glanced at the sun rising over the harbor and he shakes his head. One night wasted, apparently. He makes a move to remove his helmet, but stops as soon as he notices the woman staring right at him.

Selina was frozen in her spot, her glass of water had shattered under her a while ago now. Did she just witness the Red Hood bring her daughter up to her balcony? Apparently so. The Red Hood only turned and left the way he came, but not before writing something down and placing it into your hands. She was outside in seconds, she looked down the fire escape, but the new vigilante was out of sight. Besides that, she moved to you. You were out like a light, but aside from that it didn’t look like you were hurt anywhere. No, if anything, this was the heaviest she’d seen you sleep in a long time. Curiosity got the best of her, though, so she took a look at the note.

‘If you ever need to pretend again.’ And a series of numbers.

2022

“Alright, baby, let’s see this,” Jason swings the pocket watch in his hand and cracks it open, taking some time to stare at it’s face. He turned it to the side, looking at the overlapping hands on it, and he was just about to twist the knob when Tim interrupted him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jason, don’t play with that thing,” Tim snatches it from his hands. “We don’t know what it could do yet or how it works,” he says.

“Okay? And how are we going to figure that out if we just stare at it?” He takes it back.

“Jason, I’m serious, this is the only lead we have on those two, if you break it then we’ll be back to square zero,” Tim grabs the chain.

“Tim, chill out, it’s fine!” Jason strengthens his hold on the watch.

“No! Jason, I have to study this before it breaks!” Tim tugs on it.

“It won’t break!” Jason tugs back.

“It might!”

“It won’t!” And, once Jason tugged it for the last time, a bright light surrounded both of them.

When the light had subsided, both of them collapsed onto the ground, Tim landing hard enough on Jason that the latter slammed his head onto the asphalt. The pocket watch tumbled out of Jason’s hand and landed a few feet away from him broken.

“Ow…” Jason rubbed his head harshly. “Yo, Tim, you good?” Jason pushes himself off of the ground and helps Tim up next.

“Other than a headache, I’m fine… where are we?” Tim rubs his head too before looking around. The two seemed to have landed in an alleyway, the bright skies were pierced by tall buildings with winding fire escapes and various other powerlines and, shockingly, someone zipping above them on a flying skateboard.

“Wherever it is… I’m pretty sure it’s not Gotham,” Jason says after shaking off the initial shock.

“Aw, hell, Jason, I knew you’d break it!” Tim picks up the pocket watch, the various hands on its face had bent and broken on impact with the ground, and the front of the pocket watch was marred with scratches. Tim swallows harshly, but before he could speak any more a shrill scream behind them caused both of the boys to assume an offensive stance.

“Oh my god!” The woman shouts, trying to tug her purse away from a burglar.

“Ha, basic,” Jason steps forward and punches the burglar square in the jaw, the latter knocking out and dropping the purse in the process, which Tim easily caught and handed back to the woman.

“Are you alright?” Tim asks, but the woman shies away, clutching her purse tighter, and runs off just in time for a whistle to be heard next.

“Hey! You two! Stay right where you are!” The voice shouts next and Jason and Tim turned around just as an officer approached them.

“Right over here, officer,” Jason points at the knocked out criminal, a smug and confident grin on his face.

Only for the officer to handcuff Tim first.

“Excessive violence with probable cause is against the law, young men, you’re coming with me. State your names now,” he makes a move to handcuff Jason next, but he’s quick to move out of the way, although the officer was quicker.

“Don’t tell him our fucking names, Tim!”

“Christ, Jason!”

“Tim and Jason, okay,” the officer scribbles down both names.

“Dammit.”

“Fuck.”

“Follow me, boys, I just have a few questions,” the officer says.

“We can just knock him out and run for it,” Jason whispers to his brother. Tim shakes his head.

“No way, we have to play it safe for now, figure out where we are.”

“I can hear you both, you know,” the officer glances back. Jason groans and Tim elbows him on the side. “We’ll sort things out in the precinct, until then, you have a right to remain silent,” the officer began to list of their rights and Tim could only groan while Jason rolled his eyes.

And when the two were unceremoniously thrown into a cell, they were even more annoyed.

“What kind of fucked up justice system is this that we get punished for helping someone out?” Jason grumbles.

“You dislocated the guy’s jaw,” Tim grimaces.

“We always do shit like that in Gotham.”

“But we’re not in Gotham, Jason,” Tim reminds him. “I have no idea where we are, for all we know we could be in a whole other dimension with no way of going back because you broke the one lead we had!”

“I didn’t break it!”

“You did!”

“We did!” Jason corrects him. Tim just shouts in frustration and buries his head in his hands. “Man… if I was going to get jailed for anything I would’ve hoped it would’ve been for something cooler than punching a thief,” Jason crosses his arms. “Why are you so quiet?”

“I’m trying to find out how I’m going to survive with you of all people.”

“You little shit,” Jason spits.

“I don’t even want to deal with you right now!” Tim’s hands tense up around his head and he takes a calming breath.

“Alright. What’s fucking you up?” Jason crosses his arms and Tim huffs.

“Nothing!” He shakes his head. “Something, maybe.”

“Okay, hit me then,” Jason adjusts so that he could fully face Tim.

“Figuratively or literally?”

“Whichever one,” Jason shrugs. “You’re taking this whole thing a little too hard, Tim.”

“Don’t you want to find (Y/N) and Damian?”

“Of course, I do! But, Tim, chill out. Nothing will come out of us freaking, and the more time we spend doing that, the more time those two could be stuck somewhere dangerous,” Jason says. “So what is it, Tim? What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just…” he huffs. “I feel like if I didn’t… if I didn’t confront (Y/N) so early on maybe she would have stayed longer is all…” he says quietly. Jason leans back against the wall. “I know it hit all of us hard, when (Y/N) passed away, and when she came back, if that was even her, I don’t know I just…” Tim grabs the pocket watch. “I felt so relieved, like we all had a chance at a do over, but you should have seen the look on her face, Jason, when I asked her,” he says.

“What did she do?”

“She didn’t care,” Tim mutters. “Like… like she’s been back for a while, but she never thought to come back here. And when I did see her here she looked so disappointed, I can’t place it, when I saw her she looked upset not relieved, not happy, not…” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, I keep hearing that you knew her best, what do you think?”

“Me? I knew her best? Try Dick!” Jason’s jaw drops.

“Dick was the one who told me that!” Tim says. “Hell, I thought I knew her best, but even now I wonder why she does certain things and you always have the answer! So, what do you think, Jason? Why wouldn’t she have wanted to come home?”

“Well, was this ever really her home?” He asks.

“Of course it was!”

“I don’t think so,” Jason rocks on the chair now. “Even when I first got there, she’d been there longer than I was and she was still so uncomfortable in the manor,” he shakes his head. “Wanna know what I think? I think we all owe her some sympathy. I wasn’t here for the big fight that happened with her and Bruce, when she renounced being a vigilante, but I do know that that changed everything,” he says. “She already felt alienated in that house before, so putting it out there, maybe, was the final nail in the coffin.”

“That fight…” Tim mumbles. “You’re right, it was really big.”

“What exactly happened?”

“Well… I don’t know the details myself, I was just starting as a Robin too, and I think I blocked out a lot of it. To be honest, I think Dick would remember more than I do. I just remember we came back from a mission, it was rough, I had bandages all over already and when (Y/N) saw me she lost it. I’ve never seen or heard of her standing up to Bruce until that night. And Bruce took it well, he was really careful about his responses until (Y/N) said that one thing and then…” Tim caught himself. “It’s not your fault, Jason. You were dead, and she was angry.”

“What did (Y/N) say?” Jason’s voice was low.

“She asked ‘why are you repeating what happened to Jason?’” Tim said quietly. “Then, more arguing, and (Y/N) finally said ‘if death is so okay with you then I don’t want to be next in line. I will never be a vigilante.’ And I don’t remember much more after that, who wants to remember their sister shouting like that? Dick had to break them up.”

“Metal,” Jason shrugs.

“Jason! I’m trying to open up for why I care so much!”

“And I’m applauding my younger sister for standing up to the guy, she was always afraid to do it.”

“And the second time she did she died.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Jason sneers.

“I know it’s selfish of me to say it, but I wanted to spend more time with her,” Tim says. “I was juggling so much with being a Robin, my family, and school that I didn’t get to really sit with her,” he says. “And she was always there for me. She would move schedules around and drop things last minute if I called but if she called me? God, it was her or the Titans and you know how that goes. So when I saw her in the manor, and all, I just wanted to talk to her. But, no, instead my skeptical ass chased her out before I could even apologize.”

“Well, your skeptical ass was right, so we can’t be mad at that,” Jason says. “Who knows what goes on in that kid’s mind? I don’t even know, if she wanted to do something it was easier for me to help her rather than stop her, you know? That’s Dick’s thing. I’d rather I know what the hell she was up to so I’d know when to step in,” he shrugs. “Maybe this is another one of those things, some crazy escapade. I know when I came back to life shit was crazy, I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know why I was here, maybe it’s the same for her, who knows?” Jason grumbles.

“Maybe you should ask her yourself.” Tim and Jason turn toward the front of the cell, and Damian crossed his arms.

“It’s your lucky day, boys, you’re getting bailed out,” the guard huffs next to him. “Next time, don’t leave your ID screens at home,” the guard nudges his head to the side, signaling for them to get out of the cell. Once Tim walks out, the guard shoves the box with their belongings into his arms.

“Right, yeah, of course, officer! We’ll remember to bring them next time,” Jason says a little too loudly. The guard pushes them out of the door and into the waiting room in between.

“Damian! Holy shit, man, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Jason exclaims. Tim looks at the pocket watch, trying to piece together the connection.

“Well, I’m here,” Damian says nonchalantly. “Didn’t think I’d run into Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum though.”

“Geez, at least have some tact, we almost went crazy because we had no leads,” Tim says.

“Actually, yeah, you’re a little too calm and collected right now, just what have you been up to?” Jason asks skeptically. “And what’s up with the fit?” Jason raises an eyebrow, just now noticing the uniform Damian was wearing.

“I just had a little help, is all,” Damian mutters. “Anyway, I’m just here to pick you two up, we’ll share notes on the way.”

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