#am I going to make a new save just to figure out how to write this? look.

[s0fter-sin]

one of my favourite aspects of supernatural that you very rarely see in paranormal shows is that sam and dean are already versed in the world they live in. there’s no sudden discovery of ghosts and demons and now they have to learn about them along with the audience; they are born into it and already know all about it. it allows the audience to follow their personal story instead of also trying to figure out this new world and its rules

the first season is full of knowledge we never see them learn; “w*ndigoes are in the minnesota woods or- or northern michigan. i’ve never even heard of one this far west.” […] “great. well then this [his gun] is useless.” (1x02), “you don’t break a curse. you get the hell out of its way.” (1x08), d: “it’s a god. a pagan god, anyway.” […] “the annual cycle of its killings? and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. like some kind of fertility right.” […] s: “the last meal. given to sacrificial victims. d: “yeah, i’m thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god.” (1x11)

almost every episode in the first season is a monster they’ve faced before that they then explain to the audience in a way that should feel patronising; like it’s the same speech given over and over again but instead, the audience almost feels included in the knowledge. it’s stated with such an innate confidence and comfort in said knowledge that it feels like we already knew it too; “spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. if they want inside, they just go through the walls.” […] “the claws, the speed that it moves; could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog.” (1x02), “it's biblical numerology. you know noah's ark, it rained for forty days. the number means death.” (1x04), “no no no, not the reaper, a reaper. there's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names.” […] “you said it yourself that the clock stopped, right? reapers stop time. and you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why i could see it and you couldn't.” (1x12)

they already know and, at least in the first season, already have what they need to kill whatever they’re hunting; already know to salt and burn bones for spirits, fire for a w*ndigo, exorcisms for demons, a silver bullet to the heart for shapeshifters. there’s only three times in the entire first season that they run into something new to them; 1x14 when sam gets his first vision that leads him to another psychic, 1x16 when dean calls caleb for help on the sigil he put together and he tells him about daevas, and 1x20 when they find out vampires are real- and they only don’t know that bc john thought they were hunted to extinction and not worth mentioning

(there’s also technically two half instances if you count one of them knowing something the other doesn’t - sam figuring out the tulpa in 1x17 and dean already knowing about the shtriga in 1x18 - but those still rely on sam and dean having prior knowledge)

even when they’re uncertain about facing something, it’s not bc they don’t know what it is; it’s precisely bc they know what it is and acknowledge that it’ll be a difficult hunt (“i don't know, man. this isn't our normal gig. i mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. this is big. and i wish dad was here.” 1x04)

so much of the tension in paranormal shows typically comes from the main character(s) not knowing what is happening to them/the people around them and having to find out how to resolve it. supernatural is unique in that it operates more like a police procedural. the tension comes from solving the clues and identifying patterns to figure out who (what) the killer is and intercepting before they can take another victim

it’s such a different tone to go for when compared to other shows that came both before, during, and after its run. it sets sam and dean on even footing with each other since they both have the same knowledge going in, and it puts them in a place of authority usually reserved for an outside character

the shows i compare spn to most is charmed, buffy and teen wolf; every main character in those shows are brought into the paranormal world knowing nothing, putting them on the same level as the audience, and they have their mc interact with others already knowledgeable about that world in order to overcome their problem/monster of the week. the audience organically learns about this new world as the characters learn about it. it’s a sound writing strategy that prevents “as we already know”-style exposition but something that complicates it is if your world building isn’t unique or intriguing enough, this slow introduction can become boring

we’ve seen shows like these before; sitting through the same tropes of characters learning to use their powers, struggling with no longer feeling normal/relating to the regular world around them, and not knowing how much they can trust the people already involved in this new world gets repetitive. all three shows eventually reach the same level of comfort with their new world that spn starts with but if the characters aren’t enough to draw you in, you can end up dropping it before they reach that point (and often, before the overarching plot can really kick in and evolve the show beyond the villain of the week format)

it’s the superhero origin movie in tv format; dragged out and overplayed. dropping the audience into an established world of course comes with its own problems but you also have the benefit of pre-existing established character dynamics that let the audience slot in like they’ve always been there instead of just getting to know all the characters while the characters also get to know each other

sam and dean already knowing about the supernatural lets the audience immediately get to the core of the story; the conflict between sam and dean, the search for their father, and the mystery of what killed their mother

[malaismere]

idk if I actually want to write it, but I was thinking, ‘hm, baldurs gate three is a pretty good set up to have a character from something else be Tav’ and obviously how could I not immediately think of Jester. Mostly because Tav has big ‘everybody loves Jester Lavorre’ energy.

just. the crystal clear image of her getting upset that she’s back at level one, and yelling at the traveler about it, which everyone else goes ‘okay whatever so she’s maybe a bit crazy, we can deal with it’ and then like the first time they set up camp he just actually shows up to apologize, because this plane is making him do *paperwork*

I’m kind of tempted to restat her as a warlock for said paperwork reasons, which would mean Wyll getting to watch her make a very casual deal and having Emotions about that. And obviously Shadowheart and Gale have their own fun angst about the God angle.

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[late-stage-lesbian]

Sorry if this is overstepping or anything but I saw your question in the tags of a post(the one about white people and reblogging poc posts) and I wanted to give my 2 cents ok it if that's ok(sorry again if it's rude)

So while it is appreciated that you do agree with OP and are adding something to the conversation, most times serious posts about racism are meant to serve as a beacon for poc, to bring attention to issues that were facing or that white people may be causing. By adding a white voice in there, even if it's agreeing it does take away some focus from the poc perspective on the issue in favor of a white person's perspective. It's unfortunate, and sometimes you can bring up a good point or raise awareness, but usually it's a good idea to do so on a separate post, or a post designated for both poc and white perspectives rather than a post made for poc experiences.

Sorry a final time, I hope this made sense? Either way ur question is valid and I hope this was at least kinda helpful!

This makes sense, and I really appreciate your taking the time to explain your perspective. Please don’t apologize for engaging in a productive discussion with me, I’m really just surprised that anyone read the tags at all 😂

I guess my question really should have been more focused on whether or not this still holds true if the commentary is in the tags of the post, because I always perceive the tags of a post as separate to the post itself. Like I treat tags like I might treat annotating a text - I’m drawing connections or notating where my personal experiences line up with what’s in the post. It’s almost like I’m talking to myself, and people can read them if they want but they also aren’t meant to be for anyone as much as they are meant for me to kind of process what I was reading and sometimes to signal to the OP that I was listening. And I put that in the tags specifically so that it doesn’t have to travel with the post if it ever gets reblogged from me.

But it occurred to me while reading the original post that I might be treating tags very differently than other people, and I wasn’t sure how that matched up with the post. And I don’t know how much of that is just my Autism manifesting in a way where I have misinterpreted the way this tool is meant to be used, or how much of this is my AuDHD having to process all of my thoughts to other people in order for me to understand them, or how much of this is just internalized white supremacy culture making me think I’m entitled to a part of the discussion.

TLDR; Do other people consider tags to be a part of the conversation? Or do other people consider tags to be independent of the conversation unless otherwise stated (like with ‘prev tags’ descriptors)? Or is there some other third thing?

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 4

Author’s Note: I'm hoping to make the next part longer, hoping I'll have more time tonight to write. Thank you all for taking the time to read my work! Your likes, comments, reblogs, and follows truly mean the world to me!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 4 Summary: After your body and soul have gone through so much, how likely is it you'll survive?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"The combination of these plants can lead to some serious complications." Madja informed Rhys and Az.

All of the color drained from the spymaster's face.

"I believe the venom in the cut was from her mission. I would have found it sooner if I had done her check up." Madja muttered, ashamed.

"This is not your fault. It is mine for not seeing Clara for who she actually is sooner." Az responded.

"Now is not the time to take blame. Y/N needs us. What can we do now?" Rhys added.

Madja looked over you, taking a second to think.

"Well, the powder probably just sped up the venom which caused it to attack her powers quickly. It is like an infection, I will treat her with some medicine for that. But I believe there is a power inside of her that she is not aware of." Madja explained, "it might be the reason she is still alive right now."

Azriel walked closer to you, kneeling next to the bed. He laid his right hand over yours and used his left to push some hair off of your face.

"What about the complications you mentioned earlier?" Rhys asked.

"I have never seen the combination of Spitfire Aconite, Vamire, and Aldirin used where it didn't immediately kill the fae once it entered their system. Those three plants combined are deadly, perhaps the mystery inside of her is what saved her. I am not sure yet, I will treat her infection for now and we will figure out the rest as we go." Madja spoke definitively.

She began rummaging through her things to find the medicines. She pulled out some liquids, a salve, and bandages. Dropping some of the mixes in your mouth, she could tell your fever was already dropping.

"We need to flip her onto her stomach so I can access her cut." The healer told them.

"I'll do it." Az jumped up.

He gently rolled you over and went to take the salve from Madja who gave him a look.

"Please." Azriel begged, needing to help you in any way he could.

She nodded at him and gave him the necessary equipment. She pulled Rhys with her out of the room, leaving you in the shadowsinger's hands.

He coated your cut with the cream and bandaged it snugly. Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he sat and watched over you.

Rhys and Madja made their way down to the rest of the group.

"I will go figure out some treatments we can try. In the meantime, I think you need to deal with Clara." Madja spoke up to the High Lord.

He gave her a nod, a steely look already in his eyes thinking about what she did to you. Entering the living area, he sent out a surge of his power so everyone felt it. He walked straight to Clara but she refused to make eye contact with the male.

"I gave you a chance here at the Night Court, to be a part of something bigger and this is how you repay me? You have caused damage to my friend that I do not know can be undone." He growled out.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Mor whispered, afraid of his answer.

"We don't know if we will be able to help Y/N. Clara here used a deadly combination of herbs on her but I'm sure she didn't expect Y/N to be so strong. Isn't that right?" He demanded.

"Wh...What? No I...I just...it wasn't supposed to kill her. It was j...just supposed to heighten her symptoms so I could then fix her. I swear. I didn't think it would do any true h...harm." She stuttered out, realizing the extent of her actions.

"Hmm so you're not a killer? Just stupid." Rhys spit out, "Nesta. Cassian. I trust you two can take care of her while I try to find a fix for Y/N?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Cassian spoke, his voice rumbling.

Nesta didn't verbally respond, just held the icy gaze she had on Clara.

"What? You can't do that!!" The female began to plead, terrified to be punished at the hands of those two.

Before anyone could respond, Nesta and Cassian winnowed away with her. Mor looked to Rhys, they shared a sorrowful look. Feeling like they betrayed you, they knew they needed to make it right. But first, they would have to help you survive.

-----

All of the venom, plants, herbs, antidots, and serums that were inside you weren't enough to knock you out fully.

You were awake through it all, fighting with everything you had inside your mind. You had felt Rhys enter your mind, tried to control your light for him but it was so strong.

Once Azriel's shadows entered protecting Rhys, you knew you had to fight harder. But you could feel everything. You could feel Madja unweaving the venom from your very soul. It was not only the worst pain physically but it made you feel so vulnerable and weak as well.

You felt another energy inside of you, something you never felt before. You tried to explore it, but the venom was controlling it and you didn't have enough strength anymore.

With Rhys and Az in your mind and Madja deep in your soul, you had never felt so bare before.

Once they finished and the venom was completely removed, you needed to rest. Knowing you couldn't fight it anymore, you succumbed to sleep.

------

After a while, you woke up. Well, your mind was awake but your body wasn't. Your power seemed to be back in your control, at least it wasn't attacking you from the inside out anymore.

You felt like you could hear something calling out deep inside of you. You couldn't ignore it, it was as if you were hypnotized, following the sound.

There was nothing physically there, at least you couldn't see anything but you could certainly feel it. It was power, antsy to get out. You reached your hand toward it and it was as if it noticed you there finally. It latched onto you and energy shot through you.

It was a feeling you had never experienced before, consuming every cell in your body. You could feel it working its way through you, waking up your physical form.

Suddenly you sat straight up in bed, gasping, no longer trapped in your mind.

"You're awake!" Azriel spoke, his eyes wide in shock.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @theravenphoenix26

@anoneyesee @ren-ni @kabekusa @isa1b2h3 @i-am-infinite

@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll @chelsiemp @romantasyreader28

@kissesfromnovalie @plants-w0rld @halo-mystic @bookishbishhh

[hana-no-seiiki]

This is generally such a stupid ask but I feel like it would be.. Chaotic? At the very least amusing

Anyways

Batfam x Nicole from Class of 09! Reader

Do what you want (etc make it romantic or platonic, doesn't matter)

Just the batfam (yandere ofc) dealing with a chick who loves to ruin lives for her amusement and sometimes for revenge

Istg she'll just bully them at any chance she gets

~ 🕒

I just binged watched Class of ‘09 and all its endings/choices for you non. I don’t think I can fully depict how brash wittiness of Nicole is but here I go! (I am so traumatized) Didn’t know that’s where “No I’m flirting with you flash me a tiddy bitch” came from no wonder Nicole sounded so familiar.

btw if people are interested in watching class of ‘09 just be warned it’s basically a VN version of Degrees of Lewdity but the mc is actually a minor (without the sex/r*pe mechanic though) and it depicts a lot of just… pedophilia, necrophilia, assault, su*c*de, school shootings, racism??, BE WARNED.

The following content above ^ might be mentioned in this fic but in passing. MASSIVE DDDNE WARNING.

I don’t think I’m comfortable writing stepcest/incest in this blog so despite how perfect it’ll be to make Bruce your step father considering Nicole’s mom has divorced like a hundred times…maybe ask me in @yoru-no-seiiki and I’ll be down for it.

THIS IS ADMITTEDLY TIM + DAMIAN CENTRIC

“Do you even care? Do the results of your actions mean anything to you?”

“Yeah when they affect me, sure.”

You were a bitch. There was no denying that. But you were a pretty one. One many would grovel to be under.

You were used to this, ever since you reached a certain age people just looked at you different, acted in a way that… made you think they were boring, utter losers.

One of those losers was Tim’s friend.

Like all the stupid, horny men in your life, you hung out with him once and he spilled everything there was that you could share.

To the entire campus, the internet, even the news.

And because you were pretty, you got off scot-free. Those morons didn’t even check to see what you’ve been doing the past decade.

Except Tim. Timothy Drake. You only knew that his dad was super rich, and as much as it was tempting to sink your teeth into him and get a load of that daddy’s money, you knew better.

He apparently didn’t.

You see there was one thing every batfam member couldn’t resist. Well, two things. The first was saving people.

The second? Fixing them.

When Tim first approached you he was confused.

You were quite the popular figure in Uni. He heard the rumors. He fully expected to be cussed out to hell and back.

But you were… nice. Agreeable at most really. Brash was an understatement. But you were witty. Your comebacks were swift and deadly.

The more he studied stalked you the more he realized that the two of you were the same.

Two bright people stuck with dull idiots.

And Tim? Tim interested you enough for you to not to completely drop him after the first week. That and most of your bullying probably wouldn’t bode well towards the son of a billionaire.

He was smart, even more so than that nerd friend of his that you destroyed the life of. But more importantly he actually had some tact, and was surprisingly packed underneath all those baggy clothes.

Tim had to admit he was kind of forgetting his entire purpose of ‘fixing’ you.

Until you manipulated yet another guy into jumping off a school building for you. Thankfully he survived because Red Robin happened to be there to apprehend him but still!

And what’s worse, you met up with him afterwards talking about how that Red Robin ruined all your plans of crippling a r*pist.

Wait, a r*pist?

Tim looks through your past victims once more. Admitted he only did a surface level job of studying them in comparison to his PhD level knowledge on everything about you specifically.

And…you were right. Every guy you’ve harassed was being pushy with you in the first place, if not people with authority a decade older.

Fuck.

Well now he had no excuse. He had to make you his.

Meanwhile…

“Ugh, Damian. Can’t you tell your brother to like, fuck off or something? I can feel my social standing totally plummet every second he’s around. How do you handle being related to him?” You groaned. You weren’t fucking stupid. You knew Tim was stalking and drooling all over you lately. You hated it. He was ruining your chances with your new victims.

“Jeez [Y/N]. And here I thought you were like, into him.” Jessica, your actual crush and best friend, commented as she filed her nails.

You being the emotional stunted adult you were only replied with an (admittedly softer) “Eat a sandpaper cock and die bitch.”

Damian stared at you, the words die before they crawl out of his mouth. His hands clenched underneath the lunch tables.

Guess he had another thing to steal from his brother this time.

[targaryenluvs]

— ALL MINE

pairing - prowler!miles morales x reader, miles morales x reader

summary - whilst on the run, your boyfriend miles and yourself were taken home. although your hometown is not as it seems. with a shadow clinging to your every move, will you make it out of this universe? part two - not yours

warnings - possessive!prowler miles, he’s like low key delulu, swearing, violence.

notes - i am absolutely in love with prowler miles. THE BRAIDS HAVE A CHOKEHOLD ON ME. sorry if this seems to resemble other fics but i just wanted to do my lil version since all the others are half way done :P and i’m writing again since i’m in the holidays :) also idk if miles can make people invisible but for the sake of this text yes he can. also big fancy words idk if i used em correctly. comment for p2!!!! also pushing the 42miles calling his girl ma agenda 😘

wordcount: 2.1K

you had to catch your breath.

you’d never been the most athletic person in p.e and it certainly wasn’t going to change then and it certainly won’t now. but as miles eggs you on to keep moving you ignore all the un-athletic bones in your body and push yourself to keep running.

as you reach your destination miles grabs your hand and the two of you creep your way inside. miles begins to mess around with computers as margo tried her hardest with the help of lyla to figure out what on earth was going on.

as miles scanned his eyes he pulled you into his arms, “you okay?” he asked as you nodded, “for now, as long as miguel-”

and to your luck he barrelled through the doors at the exact moment you uttered his name. “bloody mary much?” you muttered under your breath as you took a step back.

and as he clawed and fought his way in your hand tightened its grip on miles’s. “it’s okay, he’s not getting in y/n/n. it’s okay.” and as he reassured you to the best of his abilities you couldn’t help but feel grateful. he always put you first, no matter what.

always made sure you and his family were okay.

and his reassurance managed to calm you down as margo looked up at the two of you, her finger hovering over the reboot button but as she looked between the miles and you, she couldn’t help but aid the two of you. as miles pulled his mask over his face, you saw the pure rage painted over miguel’s face and you couldn’t help your indignation towards the man.

but you didn’t see him for long as the pair of you were sucked out of the room and travelling at the speed of light (or so it seemed) to freedom.

the lights were harsh on your eyes.

as you adjusted to the luminosity of the neon signs you looked to your right to see miles on the floor.

“miles? miles!” you rushed over and rolled his body over as he coughed, “i’m okay, i’m okay. how about you?” you smiled, “i’m fine babe. we made it, we made it home miles.” you cried as you engulfed him in a hug.

he smiled as he reciprocated, “thanks to you y/n. but we needa get goin okay?” you nodded as you stood and helped him up by his arms.

“hold on tight.”

you’d honestly forgotten how nice the cold air felt on your face. the thrill of swinging through the city, passing people by as they stared in wonder, slinging by and grabbing a few treats on the way, yours and miles’s normal routine almost everyday in the past six months. you never knew you could miss a place so much.

but being with the spider society and being at the HQ managed to make you deeply homesick.

as you neared miles’s home you felt a weight being lifted off of your chest.

you were almost there.

you had gotten home in time.

you’d save mr morales, be allowed to call him jeff and his wife rio, miles would have his father, he’d continue being spider-man, the two of you would move to new jersey (fingers crossed), miles would study something new (seeing as the two of you have had your fill of other universes in the past few days), you’d study journalism, you’d get your own place, travel, live and love.

together.

as you got to his rooms window you held on to the ledge as miles opened the window and carefully guided you in. you’d never expected to feel so elated at seeing his single bed, his action figures and posters, everything. but as you entered, the waves of fatigue messed with your head to the point where you managed to overlook the contents of his room.

you were so exhausted you didn’t even manage to make it to the bed and relaxed in-front of it in the corner. as you looked around you couldn’t help but frown. it looked, different.

some things were missing such as all the posters and figurines. you chalked it up to mrs morales packing them away perhaps, or miles moving them to his own place.

as you slowly drifted off you missed the creak of the door opening.

rio walked through the door with her laundry basket clung to her hip.

miles turned around quickly, relieved to see his mother. “ah mom, you don’t know how happy i am to see you.” rio furrowed her eyebrows as her son ran over to smother her in a tight hug. it’d been so long since he’d acted so.

and was his hair out?

he seemed shorter too.

what on earth has this boy been up to?

as he rambled on explaining himself she couldn’t help but smile. he seemed so, innocent. before everything, before the pain, before the loss, before it all happened, before he changed, permanently, before her.

“miles, i think it’s cute your into uh what’s it called cosplay? you one of them comics-con kids?”

“what’s that? i- no, this isn’t cosplay ma.”

as she walks into another room miles stands frozen as his uncle aaron walks into the home. albeit a different version of his uncle aaron but it doesn’t change the way miles’s hands are sweating, his heart threatening to implode.

as aaron rested a pile of cash on the table miles stared in awe. “you ready to go miles? damn you took your braids out? what’s going on man?” he joked as he walked to the door his hand gesturing miles to follow along. “yeah lemme just grab something and i’ll be there.”

miles shook you awake and asked you to follow along but not too closely.

you were perplexed as to why but followed along nonetheless. as you made it to the door you saw aaron in-front of miles. and suddenly something came at miles, knocking him out.

you ran to him, “miles! shit, are you okay?” you felt your chest tighten as he didn’t respond, his finger tips twitched yet he was unresponsive. “fuck what the hell did you do aaron?”

aaron couldn’t believe his eyes.

how- what?

you were there. sitting, cradling miles’s body in your arms as you stared up at him.

alive.

“y/n?”

it was a whisper. but you caught it. “no i’m the fuckin sun. yes it’s y/n.” you said as you continued to inspect miles, looking for any signs of injury.

“you want her too?”

your head snapped up as you heard aaron speak again, he was looking behind you and you honestly didn’t have the energy to see someone else right now but as you looked back you wished this was a bad dream.

the prowler.

he stood tall, not as tall as aaron but at least a few inches more so than miles. his suit was a little different, his claws sharper and his mask. he nodded towards aaron, yes.

it was as frightening as aaron’s. aaron. if he was right infront of you you then who the hell was thi-

your head was throbbing so much, but you were currently being tended to. or, you thought you were. someone was lightly dabbing a wet cloth on your forehead, your head was supported by something, it was nice.

when you built the strength to open your eyes you saw miles. “arriba mi vida.” you squinted. “what?” you saw a slight smile on his face, “try to get up.” miles wrapped his hand around your neck, cradling it as you attempted to get up.

you rested against the cold wall as you took in the environment around you. “where are we?” you asked miles as you tried focusing your eyes, you swore you saw the outline of someone tied to a, was that a boxing bag? the light from the window behind them illuminated their outline, their face left unknown.

“shh, está bien y/n.”

“miles you know i cant speak spanish that well.”

“i’m sorry, i forgot. you feelin’ okay ma?”

as you were about to respond the body tied to the bag started to move and mumble, causing you to actually realise that someone was tied up. your eyes were adjusted now and as you looked around and settled on miles’s face you couldn’t help but frown.

“since when do you wear braids miles? and do you honestly think this is the right time to try out a new hair style?” you questioned as he got up, “you don’t like my braids? you use to do em all the time ma.”

your eyebrows furrowed as the body finally came into focus, and you saw-

miles?

you slowly rose from your spot on the floor and looked back and forth from both miles’s. the one in front of you had a certain way to him. his shoulders straightened, taller than usual, hardened face, he seemed so, formal.

whilst your miles was a sloucher most times, not short but he didn’t tower over everyone, usually with a smile donning his face and always easy going.

“i- you.” the words scrambled out and you had no idea what was going on. all you knew was that you needed to get out of here. as you walked towards what you had assumed to be your miles, other miles grabbed your hand and yanked you back.

“whatchu doing?”

“i was seeing my miles. what are you doing? why did you tie him up?”

“can’t exactly have someone running around my streets with my face now can i?”

“okay, i understand that miles but you need to let me go. we need to get back to our universe otherwise mr morales is gonna- and we can’t let that happen you know that. untie him. please.”

“why would i do that shit? what’s so special about him? why does he get to have everything so good? his school, his friends, his family- you.” other miles was getting a little too close for your liking and you found yourself backed up against the wall. not a great position to be in when completely helpless and tired as hell against someone who could probably throw you across the room.

his hand came to your face as he pushed away a stray strand of hair from your eyes. “i- did we- did you date someone like me?”

“not someone like you ma, i dated you.”

“no you dated another version of me. that’s not me, that’s her, wherever she is i’m sure she missed you and if you picked up the phone and called-”

“she’s dead.”

your eyes widened, “i- i’m sorry for you. and for her. i’m sure you loved her a lot but, i’m not her. you’re not my miles, my miles is right there. and i love him. please you have to let us- me go. y/n wouldn’t have wanted this for you i’m sure of it.”

“you gonna tell me she wanted me to be happy?”

“uh i’d assume she wanted that for you. i’m sure you guys were amazing together miles.” you smiled as you tried to suppress your fear. it was hard to, you could feel it slowly creeping in, the miles in front of you was hypnotising, his eyes were warm so warm you could feel them burning into yours. he was absolutely gorgeous, the soft glow from the night life outside highlighting his face. he was so gorgeous it was insane as well as scary. he took your breath away, the same way your miles did.

“we were, and we will be again.”

“i’m not so sure you can bring people back from the dead. i understand you miss her but you need to let her go and move on. speaking of moving on miles and i should be moving on back to our universe so if you would so kindly-”

“i got her right here ma.”

his grip on your hand tightened as he somehow got closer. all the air had apparently hopped out of the room since you felt your chest tighten.

“no me dejarás de nuevo mi vida. your staying with me, here.”

“You won’t leave me again my life.”

“stop it, i understand you’re hurting but please just-” you tried with all your strength to push him away but his feet were planted firmly into the floor, as still as a statue and you couldn’t help but cry.

you’d escaped one place to be potentially imprisoned in another.

“shh, shh y/n/n. i got you right here.” he held you as you sobbed, praying your miles would wake up soon and save the two of you.

as miles held onto you he couldn’t help but feel his tensions and sorrow seep into the floor as he held you again after all this time and as he did he couldn’t help but whisper,

“you’re mine mi amor,

all mine.”

[whimsyfinny]

He's a Winchester

Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, mention of toxic parenting/custody battle, angst, alcohol,

Chapter Word Count: 3471

MDNI 18+

A/N: here it is! I’m not gonna lie, this is going to be very slow burn at first, but don’t worry, you know me and you know how much juicy content I write so it’s definitely coming hahaha. I’m also trying to figure out a schedule for posting this, so hopefully I can upload two chapters a week.

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out. 

Photos from Pinterest

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I reached for the bottle of wine for the third time in the last hour and a half. I was sitting with Kat, pyjamas adorned, in the living room of mine and Levi's modest two bedroom house. For financial (and personal) reasons, our little house didn't follow current trends and looked more like something out of a popular 90s sitcom. The couch was comfy, the blankets were fuzzy, and a fresh pot of coffee was always brewing. Pictures embellished the walls of every milestone Levi had achieved; every birthday party, every new dirt bike, every new hairstyle. There were a few of Kat and I from over the years, going way back to when we first met back in ‘99 and both decided to rock platform heels on at the turn of the millennium - having tiny babies at the time didn't seem to stop us. Every single moment on these walls was a happy memory - something that I would treasure forever, yet there was something missing. There were no photos - or perhaps a scarce few - of my own parents, or of them with Levi, or of any extended family for that matter. The price I paid when I decided to have my son out of wedlock, at barely twenty years old, with a man who my family saw as a total stranger, is a price I'd pay every time in a heartbeat. Kat and Toby were our family now, and that was more than I could ever ask for. That was why the sheer possibility of Levi getting to meet his dad for the first time in, well, ever… it had my mind spinning. It was a scenario I'd dreamt of, late at night when I couldn't sleep and the burdens of life weighed me down. I conjured false memories in my minds eye of the pair of them fixing his bike on the drive or driving to school in the impala. I pictured us having breakfast together as a family and taking trips to the movies. Being together. Because no matter how many dates I went on, or how many frogs I’d kissed over the years, none of them were Levi's father.

None of them were Dean Winchester.

“Girl you have to reach out to him,” Kat walked in from the adjacent kitchen before slumping on the couch next to me, wine glass elevated to reduce spillage.

“Kat I could barely look at him today without feeling like I was going to have a heart attack - how the fuck am I supposed to talk to him?” I glanced at her with wide eyes, every nerve in my body on edge despite the wine and scented candles. Kat sighed. 

“You might never get this opportunity again, and we both know that if you don’t give Levi the opportunity to meet his father then you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.” I held my breath, urging the raging storm in my mind to quiet down before letting the air gush from my lungs.

“Yeah I know. I just…I just never thought that this would actually happen, you know? I never thought that Dean would show up here. I figured Levi would eventually track him down when he was old enough to make that decision on his own. I have no idea how to even approach this.”

“Sure you do!” Kat beamed, a wicked glint in her eye, “you sit him down and say, ‘Hey Dean! Remember when we had sex in the back of that amazing car of yours nine years ago? Well, actions have consequences, and yours in eight years old and sitting in his science class right now.’”

I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face and I cackled when the bit of popcorn I threw landed in her wine glass.

“Bitch.”

I blew her a kiss in response to her insult. It didn’t take long though for the distraction to run its course and for my mind to return to its state of panic.

“But seriously, what am I going to say to him? What if I tell him, and he rejects us too, like my family did?”

Her smile softened.

“From everything that you’ve told me about that man, I highly doubt he’s going to reject you. Sure, he might not stick around permanently, but he sounds like the kind of guy that would stay in touch,” her softened smile turned to a stern stare, “but he’s only going to do that if he knows. He deserves to know he has a son.”

I took a long gulp of my wine. 

“Yeah, I’m going to tell him…” I paused, gnawing my bottom lip as I drew my knees to my chest, “it’s Saturday tomorrow so I’m not at work and Levi has two hours at the track. I can try to do it tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to track Dean down in that time - I have no idea where he could be.”

“Hey, I’ll pick up Levi from Motocross - it’s been a few days since him and Toby have spent any proper time together anyway, just them two. Tobes’ has been dying to show him those brand new boots of his.”

We shared a smile. That’s the thing about Kat; she always had my back, no matter the situation.

“Thanks babes, I owe you one.”

She shook her head.

“No way - this is me returning the favour from when Toby’s dad decided to show an interest in his own child. I’m pretty sure my kid thought you were adopting him at one point from how much he stayed here,” I laughed, remembering the camp bed I bought especially for Toby, along with all the extra duvet sets and boxes of cereal I’d had to purchase for the best part of half a year.

“He’s a good kid, and honestly he and Levi entertained themselves for most of it.”

There was another pause in the conversation as I recounted how difficult it had been for Kat when David had shown up, insisting on being a part of Tobys life despite zero contact since his son was born. They’d argued over custody, over which school he went to, the clubs he attended. Even his hobbies were on the line, with David wanting him to play football despite Toby already being involved down at the track with the bikes. The stress caused Kat to lose weight and sleep, and she nearly lost her job over it all when she kept falling asleep at her desk. I’d lost count of how many times she’d cried in my arms. Cried over a man who thought that practically owning his son was his God given right despite being an absent father, and I think that is what scared me the most. That I would feel the same wretched things that she felt, and the waves of disappointment that crashed over her time and time again when false promises were made. It took her months to settle on an agreement due to David's behaviour, and Toby finally sees his father, albeit only for one weekend a month. It's better than nothing, but certainly not worth the fight that was fought with blood, sweat and tears. 

I hope from the bottom of my heart that Dean takes the news well, and doesn't leave us in the dust like he does in my worst nightmares.

It had taken me around thirty minutes to track down Dean. Well, to at least find the impala. It's common knowledge that if you find that car, Dean isn't far away. I’d parked my truck two spaces down, and luckily we were within walking distance of my favourite café, Jolenes’. It was my safe space. The place that I would finally tell him about Levi.

I pulled the sleeves of my soft cardigan down over my hands to stop myself from chewing nervously on my nails. Leaving the safety of my truck, I paced over to the black Chevy and stood by it, determined to speak to Dean as soon as possible. I knew that if I had stayed sitting behind my own wheel, there was a huge chance that I'd chicken out and just drive away. As I waited I checked over the car in front of me, admiring how he still kept it spotless after all these years. Unable to stop myself, I let my gaze drift over to the backseat, the events that unfurled on the soft leather racing to mind. I pulled my lip between my teeth, unable to resist the replay of memories.

“You have good taste in cars.”

I practically launched out my skin as the voice came from behind me. I could hear the amusement in his voice from a few feet away. I spun on my heel and our eyes locked, the charming grin slipping slightly from Deans’ lips when he realised it was me. The playfulness in his features quickly softened, a true, genuine smile now gracing his lips.

“Dean…” I suddenly felt breathless, but despite my nerves I returned his smile in kind.

“It's good to see you (Y/n),” he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms, enveloping me in his entirety. I closed my eyes as I hugged him back, wrapping my arms around his neck and taking a deep breath, my brain tingling at his familiar scent.

“You too, Dean. It's been too long.”

After a moment we released each other and Dean stood up straight, smiling at me again with a soft twinkle in his eye. We both flinched slightly when someone cleared their throat and he took a step back. 

“Oh, uh, (Y/n), this is Sam, my younger brother,” he patted the shoulder of the young man standing beside him, and I instantly recognised him from the dessert parlour. He was tall, taller than Dean even, which was one hell of an accomplishment, and his face held a similar boyish charm to Deans. Yet he looked softer around the edges, like he hadn't been hardened by life too much yet.

“It's a pleasure, I'm (Y/n). I've known you're brother for a while,” I smiled as I shook his hand, taking note of the rough calluses beginning to form on his palms. “He used to talk about you all the time, apparently you're the smart one of the family,” with a grin and a quick glance at Dean, I tested the waters with humour. If he laughed or took the blow like a champ, now was a good time to talk to him. Sam chuckled, squeezing my hand slightly in his before letting it go. 

“Ouch… (Y/n), sweetheart, aren't you supposed to be on my side here? Y’know, with our history and all…?” he feigned hurt with a hand on his chest before his lips twitched up and he shot me a wink.

“I mean… she's not wrong,” Sam laughed, dropping his hands lazily into his pockets.

“Hey, I'm just going on what you told me, Dean. Don't hold that against me,” I grinned at them both, unsure of what to do with my hands so I crossed them across my chest.

A small breath of silence passed between us, Deans’ gaze holding mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. I didn't. Sam cleared his throat again, clapping his hand to Deans’ shoulder before taking a step back.

“I'll, uh, give you guys a few minutes,” and with an appreciative nod from Dean, Sam gave us some space. With his younger brother gone, my heart began to flutter in my chest. The time to break the news was getting closer, and my nerves were on edge. On fire.

“So,” he started, taking a step closer with a deep breath, “how's it going? How long has it been?”

“Nine years,” I was almost too hot on the mark, my words coming out faster than I'd intended and Dean blinked slightly. I sighed, looking down. “There's been a lot going on, and honestly, I've really needed you at times. You're a hard man to find Dean Winchester.” 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” his brows pinched apologetically and he reached for my hand, tracing my knuckles with his thumb. I took a deep breath and met his gaze again.

“Do you… do you have some time? I need to talk to you. It's important, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I'll get another chance.” 

He nodded slowly, giving my hand a squeeze, releasing it hesitantly with a slight wince to his features.

“Uh oh,” he said, “am I in trouble?”

I laughed, the sound light off my chest.

“Oh Dean,” I reached up to touch his face, and his instinctive reaction was to lean into my palm, “you don't know the half of it.” 

The walk to the café had been pleasant. We chatted about what we'd been up to since we last met - Dean revealing he was still in the same line of work and had travelled around a lot, never really settling down. There was something about that nugget of information that made my stomach twist in knots. He learnt I was still a receptionist, this time at the local garage  instead of the large dealership I had scored before. He asked why I'd changed, to go to something smaller, lesser, and my silence urged him to wait until we were at our destination. He knew I was anxious, and he did his best to keep conversation light and breezy until the time was right. To an untrained eye he was unphased, yet I could tell from the lip nibbling and flitting gaze that he was nervous too.

Do you think he's already guessed it?

The bell jingled as we walked in, the two baristas looking up and instantly greeting me with a wave and a smile.

“Hey (Y/n)! Your couch is free,” the first barista, a young man around my age with soft blond curls waved to me across the counter, his brilliant grin making me smile with a comforting familiarity. “Your usual?”

“Yes please! Thanks, Jake,” I returned the friendliness, stepping around the tables until we arrived at my favourite spot.

“And for your… date?” He gestured to Dean, who was now shrugging off his leather jacket, “what can I get for you pal?” 

Dean hesitated, before just holding his hands up.

“Uhhh, I don't know, I guess I'll have what she's having.”

With our hot beverages on their way, I sat down in my usual nook in the corner whilst Dean sat down opposite, in that same plush armchair that Kat had sat in yesterday. Where Kat had been swallowed by the chair and its all-consuming cushions, Dean had the opposite effect. He made the chair look small under his broad form, like it was made for a child. There were a few moments of silence, neither of us really knowing where to start. So I bit the bullet.

“Dean… before I tell you anything, just know that I've been trying to get hold of you on and off for years. Your number always seemed to go to voicemail and I never got a call back. So please just… know I tried.” 

I looked up and he was totally engaged, already hanging off every word I said as he leant forward, his elbows on his knees. Our attention pulled away from each other briefly as our coffees arrived, hand delivered by the second barista - a woman a few years older than myself with a jet black pixie cut.

“Thanks Emily, you're an angel,” I grasped the mug before she even had a chance to put it on the table and clutched it in my lap, letting the warmth seep through my palms to help soothe my nerves. 

“No worries babes, you two have fun,” she looked between Dean and me with a playful smirk, throwing me a wink before she turned around. 

Great, the gossip starts now.

I turned back to Dean who was now sitting on the edge of his seat. I took a deep breath.

Do it now.

“Dean, I have a son.”

I watched his face twitch slightly, almost like it dropped in disappointment, however it was so fleeting across his features that it was hard to tell. He pulled a strained smile onto his lips.

“(Y/n) that's great, I'm happy for you,” he looked down at his boots briefly, choosing his next words, “I guess this is you telling me to stay away, huh? Now that you have a family and all. It's ok, I get it.”

I shook my head, placing my cup on the table so I could pull myself to sit on the edge of the couch, almost mirroring Dean.

“No, no Dean, that's not- look, what I'm saying is…” another deep breath, “you, have a son.”

I watched his eyes go wide, unsure if he heard me correctly.

“What?” His voice was breathy.

I looked down into my mug for a second, choosing my words. 

“I have a little boy; he's eight, his name is Levi…and he's yours, Dean. He's your son.”

I dared to look up at him, watching his eyes go wider and his mind empty of thoughts. Either that, or his mind is racing so fast that it's left his body on standby. I gave him a few minutes to process the news. Or at least process it the best he could as it would likely be days or weeks before this fully sunk in. Nervousness prickled at my own skin, my worst fears of rejection bubbling to the surface again at his silence. I sighed.

“It’s ok, Dean, I’m not expecting you to-”

He stood abruptly, stepped over the coffee table and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his strong arms around me in a crushing grip. His arms were so tight that it almost winded me, yet I returned his embrace. The feeling of his lips on the top of my head surprised me as he kissed my hair, the sensation warm and comforting. He placed one, two more kisses before he cupped my face in his large hands, his rough palms gentle against my cheeks as I locked eyes with him. The sight was beautiful. The annoyance and exasperation that I expected to be met with was nowhere to be seen, and I saw no shadow of negativity within those evergreen eyes. All I saw was love. Pride. Joy. Excitement. The relief washing over me felt the same as climbing into your nice, warm comfy bed when on the brink of exhaustion. 

“I’m a dad?” his voice cracked slightly whilst his eyes shimmered.

I nodded as a grin erupted across his face, followed by an airy, almost unbelieving chuckle.

“Holy fuck, (Y/n)-”

“You’re not mad?” my voice was quiet.

“What?” Dean looked at me as though I’d grown a second head, “of course not. Why would I be mad?”

“Because it’s been nine years since we last saw each other, and suddenly this woman who you’ve not spoken to in nearly a decade drops the biggest truth bomb on you. A truth bomb  that I know you definitely weren’t expecting,” I try to step back but he pulls me in for another hug, squeezing the air out of me a second time.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, this is the best bit of news I’ve had in a long, long time.”

I smiled into his chest, freeing my arms to wrap them around his neck and pull him down into a hug of my own. We stood for a moment in our embrace as the coffee shop busied around us. I knew this shop and I knew this town and people would soon start to talk, start to try and figure out Dean: like who is he? How does he know (Y/n)? Why are they acting so familiar? Is he trouble? But that was all unimportant rubbish that I would deal with later. Right now, Levis father was here, and he knew. For the first time in my adult life I felt like I wasn’t keeping some devastating secret from an incredible man, and it was like I could breathe again. 

Pulling away from Deans’ bear hug, I tucked the wisps of hair away that had come loose from my claw grip and grinned up at him, reaching for his hand. I held it in mine as I swayed slightly on the spot, like an excited schoolgirl who’d just been asked on her first date. Dean smiled down at me, the sort of smile that shone on top of the world.

“So…” I started, biting my lip slightly.

“Do you want to meet your son?”

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Taglist: @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @megara0224 @libby99hb @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung @king-of-milf-lovers @xshortputax @jerksbitch @multifandoms-saidwhat @deans-baby-momma @writersxxx @rox2008 @jeysbae @ladykitana90 @proudbisexual @ladysparkles78 @elenasalvatore1 @bxtchboy69 @saemiau @lilithlunastark @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @riah1606 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part two

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to an end.

warnings: none besides being slightly unedited.

word count: 1.4k

4 months later 

Dearest Wynnie Lara,

I hope you are doing well, we miss you very dearly in the Night Court but understand you leaving after such harsh things were spoken to you. I wanted to invite you to Nyx’s first birthday celebration. He does miss you so much. (As do we).

After finding out what Azriel and the other two had said to you I almost blew up their homes with the help of my sisters. 

Elain misses you very much, even though she writes letters to you weekly, you and her seemed to help each other heal after everything happened to you both. She won't tell anybody where you have gone so I will be handing this letter to her in hopes it reaches you. 

We miss you so much, and I hate that the boys said those harsh things to you for no reason. You are not a bother, or suffocating, you light up every space you go into which is so refreshing, I do not want you to feel forced to come home (Nesta feels otherwise, she misses you so much she almost started a war with another court in search of you.) But we do want you to know you do have a home here. No matter what. I know Rhys feels devastated with how the situation turned out, even though it is partially his fault.  I want to make it clear how sorry we are for their actions and that we adore you. 

Lovingly, 

Feyre

I crumple the edges of the letter with tears streaming down my face, with a shaking breath I fold the letter gently and put it back into the envelope. I set it with the piles of letters Elain has sent to me on my coffee table. I wipe my face and head over to my rough looking door of the tree house that I am living in and latch it. This area of the Autumn Court has always been on the poorer side but it was home. Growing up with no family and moving around as a fairy was never safe, so before Amarantha’s reign I settled in this area of Autumn. 

Having not been to this home in two years it took a while to get it back into shape, cleaning and removing critters that have turned it into their home while I was gone. I have wind chimes and wards surrounding this home just like my other one, the difference here though is the Autumn wind is much more soothing for me then in any other court. It’s almost like my soul knows it's safe here. 

I have my wind playing soothing music with the small instruments placed around the open room. Candles lit and windows open for the utmost ambiance while I research different wind patterns.

I hear one of my chimes go off near the front door that catches my attention, I get up from the table and walk back to the door.  Frantic knocking is what I hear once I get to the door itself, I rip it open to see what is wrong. 

“Miss Wynnie!” with a sob, and I look down to see one of the kids I help take care of from the children’s shelter near my tree house. Little antlers poke through his red hair, and tears stream down his tanned face as he launches towards me. 

“Oatie what is the matter?” I say and crouch to his level. I put my hands on his shoulders to sooth him and look him in the eyes.

“Those mean guards are back at the shelter, they are demanding more money.” Oatie is a twelve year old boy who had to grow up quickly due to being an orphan partially under Beron’s rageful reign, but he was still a gentle soul. Things have started to get better slowly with the new High Lord, but it is a slow process when the court has so much hate built in. 

“Okay sweet boy, it’s going to be alright. Go curl up on the couch with a book and some tea and I will go take care of this okay?” I tell him with a soft voice. He nods and heads off that way. Once he is settled on the couch I fix my dress, and re-braid the two long braids under my bob and fly off the balcony.

When I arrive at the shelter there are two guards yelling at the volunteer on duty at the shelter. With a burst of wind I separate them from the worker, and land in front of them. I motion for the worker to go inside.

“What is the issue here?” I bark at them, their heated eyes turn to me.

“They owe us money for protection.” The one on the right says with a grunt.

“That’s your job. The High Lord literally pays you to protect the people. So that was the wrong answer, do me a favor and try again.” I say while rolling my eyes and shifting my weight to one hip. 

“You bitch.” One says and I let out a laugh with a clap of my hands. I know I probably shouldn’t egg them on but it’s so easy. As I am about to respond they both seem to stiffen and look behind me.

“Well that’s no way to speak to a lady.” I turn to face the new voice, which belongs to High Lord Eris, who recently has had his hair trimmed since the last time I saw him. 

“She is barely a lady, my lord.” One said with a snicker. I respond with a glare and a large gust of wind knocking them both over.

I turn to face Eris completely and give him a graceful curtsy grabbing the edges of my green dress. To which I receive a sucking of the teeth sound from him.

“Wynnie dear, stand up please. You don’t have to bow to me, we are old friends.” He says with a soft smile. The two guards seemed to have disappeared leaving the two of us alone. I straighten and glow a soft pink with a cheeky grin say,

“Yes, well, I have to show my respect My Lord.” He chuckles and makes a small lunge toward me, so I float backwards and he narrowly misses me. 

“You’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me sir.” He grunts a small breath and lunges towards me again. And I am suddenly reminded of when we were younger.

“Eris! Where are you?” I yell knowing he is hiding behind one of the trees with his hounds. 

“Got you!” I hear from behind me and feel my waist being pulled into someone's chest. I look up over my shoulder and see Eris with a wide grin. I pout at him. 

“That’s not fair.” I whine. “You know I am afraid of your pups, they think I am a big bird waiting to be hunted.”  He laughs in response. 

“I would never let them hurt you Wynnie Lara, I would never let anyone hurt you.” He said softly. “You are my only friend in this wretched court. I will burn it down to protect you.” 

“Eris that is sweet but, you are an heir would that not be counterproductive?” I ask teasingly but my skin glowing a bright warm orange with endearment. 

“Not for you Wynnie.” He says.

“I can’t stay in this area long, but I did want to invite you to dinner soon.”  He tells me when we both are sitting on the forest floor. Me on a rock with my wings glowing and him leaned up against it. My hands naturally find his hair and gently run my fingers through it. 

“I would love to.” I tell him, “I might visit the Night Court here soon.” I say with a whisper.

“Oh?” He asks me softly.

“Nyx is turning one and I miss the girls a little bit.” I responded.

“Yes, that's understandable. I still am beyond livid for how you were treated there.” He says back with a huff. And I laugh a little, “You and me both.” 

“I will have to send you with a gift, hmm?” He tells me. 

“That would be very kind of you, my lord.” And in response I get him standing up and pinching my sides. 

“Mercy! Mercy!” I say in between giggles. 

“Alright Wynn. I will send a letter for dinner when you return. Be safe and have a good night.” He tells me with a pat to the head and soft voice. 

a/n: soooooooooooo what do with think???

I am a sucker for soft Eris omggggg. Please if any questions please let me know!

I am trying the taglist I hope it works lmao

taglist: @cazrielsfairygf @buckyloki888 @litnerdwrites @the-fandom-ness @booksbypisces @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor

[girlfromthecrypt]

Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.

You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene. 

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 

And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac

TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget. 

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Others:

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]

Please consider reblogging if you like my work!

[msmk11]

Congratulations: You Like James Potter

James Potter x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Idiots in love, kissing, unbearable fluff

Summary: Clothes are a game changer when it comes to feelings. Who would've thought?

A/n: Happy Wednesday everyone! I hope you are having a lovely week. Currently I am in the midst of finals week, so I am stressing! That's why I pulled this out of my drive instead of writing something new. I hope you enjoy my loves :)

The cold stone of the dorm seeps through your socks as you pace back and forth across the width of the room. Although you love Hogwarts, winters are never kind inside a large castle with no insulation.

Usually when this happens, you go roast in front of the fire or take a long, hot shower. However, seeing that you have plans to go to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game in ten minutes with Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter, those options are out of the question. You go and stand in front of your chest again, looking at the various sweaters and sweatshirts packed for the colder weather. Despite having so many options, none look warm enough, or let’s be honest, cute enough, to wear to the game today. As you stare at your trunk with a sigh, you hear the door to your room open behind you. 

“Are you almost ready to go?” You hear Lily ask.

You turn to her with a glum look on your face, “Not yet. I don’t know what to wear!”

She comes to stand beside you, “Babe, wear one of the many sweatshirts you have sitting in your trunk.”

“But none of them feel right!” You whine. 

“Then take something from one of our trunks,” she suggests.

“I already looked.” You say, collapsing onto my bed. 

“Well you better figure it out in the next five minutes. If not, we’re leaving without you.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll make a decision.”

You hear her leave the room as the door thuds behind her. 

As you lay on your soft bed, engulfed by your comforter, you wish you could just wear it outside to the pitch. Dreaming about such a reality where that could actually happen, you realize that although you can’t carry your comforter around, you can think of something that is likely just as comfortable. One of Remus’ sweaters. You throw your shoes on and barrel down the stairs into the common area. You see your friends waiting for you.

“Are you finally ready?” Lily asks again.

“No, but go on without me. I finally figured out what I want to wear but I’ll meet you guys there,” you reply.

“Okay, we’ll save you a seat,” She says.

Once they’re out of the room, you take two steps at a time up to Remus’ room that he shares with Sirius, James, and Peter. You walk to the far right corner where his stuff is and open the trunk. The angels seem to sing from above as you feast your eyes upon the millions of big, wooly sweaters sitting before you. You see a nice brown one, something that will go perfectly with your blue jeans, and pull it on. You are instantly engulfed by the warmness and sigh with relief. You go and stand in front of the full length mirror against the wall. As you check your appearance and smooth out your hair, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye. The flash of red turns out to be none other than one of James Potter’s many quidditch jumpers. Slightly curious, you take the sweater off and put on the sweatshirt. You are pleasantly surprised to find that it is somehow even more comfortable than Moony’s sweater. Plus, it’s perfect to wear to the quidditch game. You go to stand in front of the mirror again and are taken aback slightly by how nicely the red pops against your skin. Satisfied with your appearance, and also feeling incredibly cozy, you rush down to the quidditch pitch, a few minutes before the game starts. You find Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter in the crowd. 

“Hey,” you huff, as you sit down next to Remus.

“Hey, see you finally found something to wear,” he replies. 

“Only took her a million years,” Peter teases.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” you retort, swatting him on the back of the head.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t want to wear any of our stuff?” Lily asks.

“I’m not?” you answer, confused.

“But isn’t that Marlene’s sweatshirt?” 

“No, that’s what I’m wearing” Dorcas says, unzipping her black winter coat to reveal her girlfriend’s hoodie. 

“Then whose is that?” Lily questions. 

Before you can answer, the crowd starts cheering as both teams walk out onto the pitch. Madam Hooch’s voice bellows outward as she asks the captains to shake hands. From the Gryffindor team, James steps forward, and from Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy. The two shake hands then return to their respective teams. They kick off from the ground as the quaffle is thrown into the air and the game begins. Although you’ve seen plenty of quidditch games in your time at Hogwarts, you never cease to be amazed at the agility with which James and Marlene are able to move on their brooms and toss the quaffle between them. Likewise, you are always impressed by Sirius’ strength as a beater and his ability to aim the bludgers at other players perfectly. Within minutes, Gryffindor is winning thirty to ten. The lion’s side of the stadium is screaming as James speeds down the field, heading towards the goal posts yet again. With a quick throw, he tosses the ball through the far left hoop, scoring the team another ten points. We all cheer loudly. He looks to our section and winks, blowing a kiss to his fans. From behind you hear a few sighs and giggles. You turn to see three girls in your year, two from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff, swooning over James’ flirtations. You slightly roll your eyes and huff fondly at James’ fan club. 

Your staring must not have been too discreet because a few moments later, you hear loud whispers from behind.

“And why is she wearing his sweatshirt?”

“They’re not dating are they?”

“They better not, James is mine.”

“Anyways, he could do so much better than her.”

“Yeah, she’s so ugly.”

Confused as to how they know you’re wearing James’ hoodie, you pull on the sleeve, shifting it so you can look at the back. In big, gold letters you see the word “Potter” printed across. 

You simply sigh before getting up and moving down next to Lily on the other end. 

Just as soon as you get settled, Lily turns and says to me, “Wait, turn around. Why are you wearing Potter’s sweatshirt?”

“Merlin, does everyone have a problem with it?” you ask loudly.

Dorcas, Peter, and Remus all look your way in slight surprise. 

“No, sorry. I was just wondering.” Lily answers softly.

Dorcas grabs my hand, “hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah m’fine. It’s just that those three girls,” you point to them, “are bitching about the fact that I’m wearing James’ jersey. Apparently, he’s their man, so how dare I.”

“Just ignore them,” Peter tells me. “They’re just jealous that-”

He suddenly stops, a slightly horrified look on his face.

“Jealous about what?” you implore.

“That they’re not as cool as you!” Remus interjects. 

Curious as to what Peter was going to say, but too tired to bother to ask more you simply scoff, “Right, thanks guys.”

“You know what, the cold be damned, since they’re giving you shit for wearing Potter’s hoodie, I’m gonna show mine off too.” Dorcas announces. She unzips her black jacket and sets it beside her. The bright red hoodie she has on is identical to the one I’m wearing except it says “McKinnon” in big gold letters across the back.

“Me too” Remus proudly declares, pulling off his sweater to reveal another bright red hoodie, with the word “Black” on it. 

“But since you are both dating Sirius and Marlene, won’t it make it seem more likely that I’m dating James?” you ask.

“Is that so bad?” Lily says to me.

You’re about to declare that yes, that is in fact bad, when it dawns on you, “N-no…  I guess not.”

You turn back to the game, slightly in a daze, unaware of the pointed looks shared amongst your friends.

*****

About an hour later, the game is uncomfortably close with the score being Gryffindor: one hundred and Slytherin: ninety. As you watch Marlene dart towards the hoops you hear shouts that the seekers have caught sight of the snitch. It’s a close race as flashes of green and red blur by. We cheer loudly, urging on our team. Within a minute the snitch is caught by Gryffindor. We erupt loudly, celebrating our victory. You watch as the teams land on the ground. More specifically, you watch as James jumps off his broom and runs towards his teammates. You watch the way his black hair shines against the bright sun, how his cheeks are rosy from the cold but also from the rush of winning, how even through his sweater, you can see the definition of his muscles as he lifts the seeker into the air. You begin to realize that maybe the reason you didn’t find it so bad that people thought you were James’ girlfriend was because… 

Merlin. You have feelings for James.

The world seems to go quiet for a moment, and there’s a sort of ringing in your ears, at the realization. 

“Hey! Are you coming?” Lily asks. 

You look up from your spot to see that Remus, Dorcas and Peter have disappeared down into the crowd surrounding the team and that Lily is near the edge of the bleachers, waiting to go join them. 

You shake your head, “Yeah, sorry.”

You get up and follow behind her, feeling a little queasy at the thought of seeing James up close. 

The crowd is wild as people scream congratulations at the team and hug their friends. In the middle you see James, Sirius and Marlene beaming as they eat up the attention. Marlene has her arm around Dorcas’ waist, unafraid to show off the girl she loves. Though Sirius is a loud person, he is a quiet lover and merely grips Remus’ hand beneath his sweatshirt while he talks to others. 

Lily grabs your hand and drags you towards the rest of your friends, “come on, you really are slow today.”

“W-wait Lily, no I,” but before you can resist, you’ve approached the rest of the group. Too afraid to face James first you turn and engulf Sirius in a hug, “nice work today Black! I just love to see Slytherin eat shit.”

Sirius gives you a huge grin, “what can I say, it’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

You then turn to Marlene and squeal, “Marls! You killed it out there. You and James were just so fast, I don’t know how you do it!”

“Natural talent” she brags. 

You laugh and begin to turn away when you bump right into someone’s chest. They grab your shoulders, “woah there, careful.”

You look up to see James towering above you.

“Hey, Potter” you say, your voice softening. 

“Hey, darling. Enjoy the game?” He asks, a small smile on his face.

His smile, it makes your heart melt. And the term of endearment, one he has always used, suddenly makes you flustered. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You look down at the turf to avoid his noticing and dig your shoe into the ground, “yeah, it was great! You guys did great!”

To your relief, the crowd starts to disperse and the team starts to walk towards the locker rooms. 

“Well, uh, see you in a bit. At the party sometime I suppose.” You tell him, before walking off towards the castle. 

“Yeah, see ya.” He says quietly.

You only make it a few steps before you hear him call your name. Your heart beats a little faster as you turn back towards him, “Is that my sweatshirt?” 

You cringe inwardly as you walk back towards him, “Oh, yeah, sorry. I should’ve asked. I was just cold and nothing in my closet looked appealing. I’ll go put it right back when I get back to the tower.”

“No, don’t. It looks good on you.” He answers. 

You feel butterflies in your stomach, “oh, okay. Thanks. And really, nice job today.”

You turn back around and run to catch up to your friends.

*****

When we get back to the castle you immediately go up to your room and collapse onto your bed. All of these new emotions leave you feeling confused, nervous, and exhausted. You decide that maybe you shouldn’t go to the party and should instead just sleep away your racing thoughts…. Suddenly, you feel two plops down next to you onto your bed. 

“What are you guys doing?” You mumble. 

“We’ll explain when Marlene gets back.” Dorcas responds. 

Not even a few minutes later, the door opens and Marlene comes in, throwing herself on the bed.

“Right, I’m here,” she says, out of breath.

“Did you run here?” Lily asks.

“Of course! We have very important business to attend to.” 

“We told you to be discreet!” Dorcas scolds.

“I just told James it was a fashion emergency!” Marlene protests. 

You lift your head up to look at your three roommates, “what are you lot talking about?” 

They share a look amongst each other and suddenly sit up very seriously. 

Lily pulls you up into a sitting position as well. 

“Shall I start?” Marlene questions. 

The two nod their heads, “Right. Well, congratulations, you have feelings for James Potter!”

Your heart drops, “What? No I don’t. What are you talking about?”

“Ah yes, denial,” Dorcas says smartly.

“We were expecting this,” Lily adds.

“I’m sorry, you were expecting this?” 

“Yes. It’s been very clear to all of us that you have feelings for James. We just didn’t know how long it would take you to realize. It seems today is the day.”

“B-but, how? I’ve never once thought about James as anything besides my friend until now.”

“She admits it!” Marlene cheers.

Dorcas glares at her slightly, “It’s okay, love. Sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us. That’s what happened to me with Marlene, remember?”

You think back to how the two used to interact before they were dating. They were always close and very touchy. You often caught Marlene looking longingly after Dorcas and remember Dorcas always being jealous of Marlene’s other girlfriends. 

“But you two were so obvious!” You proclaim.

“So are you and James,” Lily tells me kindly.

“Does that mean he knows?” You nearly shriek. 

Marlene takes your hand lovingly, “No, of course not. James is a lot of things, but observant is not one of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief. But then a wave of panic brushes over you, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t even act normal around him now that I know. I just feel all sweaty and nervous!”

“Just be yourself. He already likes you for you.” Dorcas says warmly. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“Honey, when have you ever known James Potter to be subtle about anything? He’s always trying to do everything to get your attention. You just aren’t always paying attention.” 

You huff and fall back onto your bed, “Merlin, I hate feelings. I wish things could just go back to the way things were.”

Lily grabs your arm and pulls you back up, “well, seeing as things can’t, let’s make the most of it.”

You give her a questioning look.

“The reason Marlene rushed back up here so fast is because we knew you would need all three of us helping you once you realized your feelings.”

“Yeah, no offense, you’re a bit hopeless when it comes to dating.” Marlene says bluntly. 

You smack her arm, “that’s not helpful.”

“Everything will be fine” Dorcas tells you, “now let’s get you dressed for the party. You have a certain Mr. Potter to impress.”

*****

An hour later, the four of you are dressed and ready to go. Your friends have put quite the ensemble together, dressing you in a red, cropped sweater with a pair of dark blue mom jeans that supposedly “make your ass look amazing” (according to Marlene) and gold jewelry. After you told them that James said you looked good in his sweatshirt, they decided that your outfit needed to remind him of it (hence the gold and red). Lily is wearing an adorable green sweater dress with brown boots and her hair is pulled back with a clip. Marlene has on black leather pants and a long sleeve, pink, sheer shirt with only her nipples covered. Dorcas is wearing a blue crop top with an open back, black jeans, and combat boots. 

“Guys, we look hot.” Lily announces. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Marlene agrees.

“I’m sure Mary will love it,” Dorcas teases. 

Lily blushes a bright scarlett, “you really think?”

“Absolutely. You look killer, babe.” You tell her. 

“You too, Mrs. Potter,” she says, winking. 

You roll your eyes at her before taking a deep breath and staring in the mirror one last time, “right, let’s get this over with.”

“Oh yes, let’s get through this terrible party.” Marlene jokes. 

We walk down into the common room where music is blaring and people are spread about talking, laughing, and dancing. As we weave through the crowd of people, Dorcas and Marlene are pulled into a conversation with a Ravenclaw friend from potions class. Lily soon leaves you too, after checking that you are okay, to go and flirt with Mary. 

Trying to calm your nerves, you grab a bottle of firewhiskey and plop yourself down onto one of the red couches pushed out of the way. 

“Did your fashion emergency get solved?”

You jump a mile at the voice coming from behind. You turn to see James leaning over the couch, smirking.

“The what?” You stutter out.

“Marlene said there was a fashion emergency? Was it solved?”

“Oh! Right. Uh, yeah. Lily had simply no idea what to wear to the party. And that’s very important, you see, because she’s trying to impress Mary.”

He leans closer to me, “I think it's working.”

The smell of his cologne wafts to your nose. You can barely breathe as you turn to look to where he’s pointing. 

Despite your anxiousness, you can’t help but smile proudly as you see Lily kissing Mary.

You cough awkwardly, “clothes can be a game changer.” 

He looks at you intensely, “yeah they can.”

You think about his sweatshirt from earlier. How he liked it, how it made you feel all safe and cozy, how it made you realize your feelings for him. 

“You know, speaking of clothes. I need to give you your sweatshirt back, now that I’m done wearing it.”

“I told you you could hang on to it,” he insists. 

“But you’ll want to have it for your future partner.” You say quietly.

“What?” He asks you.

You clear your throat, “oh uh, earlier, when I was wearing your sweatshirt, some girls thought I was your girlfriend, because I guess that’s a thing a boyfriend would do- let them wear his clothes. So, of course, you need to have it so you can give it to your actual partner… when you get one. You know, they seemed pretty interested in you, I’m sure I can point them out if you’re interested. They’re pretty too, so…”

You look up at James to see a pained look on his face. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

His voice sounds strained as he says, “yeah. I’ll just go take that sweatshirt off your hands then.”

A lump forms in your throat as you nod. 

It seems pretty clear to you that James doesn’t like you.

We walk through the crowd and up to your doom. The door shuts behind us and James stays near the doorway as you go to grab his hoodie from the edge of your bed where you put it, neatly folded. You turn to give it to him but his hands remain at his sides. 

“James, your hoodie?”

“Was it really that unbearable for you, for people to think that you’re my girlfriend, that you refuse to hang onto it?”

“James, what?”

“Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I just can’t help it. I want people to think you’re my girlfriend. Because, I like you. I do. And I’m sorry, I know this ruins things, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I can’t keep hiding it any longer.”

You drop the sweatshirt and walk towards James quickly. 

“You mean it?”

He nods.

Slowly, you reach your hand out and cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his jawline, studying every feature of his face from his hazel eyes, to the slight smile lines around his mouth, and the soft pink of his lips. 

“James, I feel the exact same way about you. It took me a bit longer to realize than you, but I do. I really care about you.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that” he tells me.

Suddenly, he turns you around and pushes you up against the stone wall, “can I kiss you?”

You nod before he catches your lips between his. He tastes like chapstick and mint gum and it’s simply perfect. 

You tangle your hands in his already tangled black hair as he grips his hands on your waist. 

Eventually, we pull away. 

“Maybe we should go back down to the party. People might be wondering where their star player is.” You tease.  

“I’ll only agree if you put that hoodie back on. I want to show you off.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, “fine, but turn around.”

He turns around while you change out of your sweater back into his sweatshirt. 

“Okay, you’re good to look now.”

He turns around with a huge grin on his face, “my don’t you just look ravishing, darling. I declare you shall never wear anything but my clothes ever again.”

You walk forward and pull him into a hug, “fine by me. I’ve never been more comfortable in my entire life.”

He goes to pull you in for another kiss but you stop him, “later,” you whisper in his ear, winking. 

You giddily turn around and quickly escape the room. He chases after you.

Before we enter the common room, you grab his hand tightly. He squeezes it back. As we walk towards our friends, you feel some people staring at the two of you. When we approach Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene they are beaming like idiots. 

“Soooooo…. You two, huh?” Sirius smirks suggestively. 

James shoves him slightly, yet still has a goofy grin on his face, “piss off.”

“I’m just glad we don’t have to watch them pine over each other anymore” Peter says, relieved. 

“No, but now we have to watch them be all lovey dovey,” complains Lily. 

“As if we didn’t just see you getting it on with Mary,” you retort. 

“Touché.” 

“Wait, so are you two… official?” Dorcas enquires.

We look at each other. “I guess we didn’t officially establish that.” You answer. 

“Hold on,” James says to you, letting go of your hand. 

He jumps up onto the table, “excuse me, may I have everyone’s attention.”

The room quiets as they all turn to look at him. 

“Oh no,” you sigh. 

“I have a question to ask a very special someone and I want you all here to witness it!” He turns to you with a huge smile on his face, “darling, sweetheart, apple of my eye, will you go out with me?” 

You feel the eyes of dozens of people on you. You even feel the glare of many girls you know would kill to be you right now. Yet even then, nothing can bother you. Because when looking at James, you see nothing else. 

“Yes! I’ll go out with you James!” You respond, giggling. He jumps off the table and pulls you in for a kiss. The room cheers loudly. 

Safe to say we were the talk of the school for a week. 

[chichiscloset]

Soft Life 101: 3 Steps to Escape Your 9-5 Job If You Don’t Want to Work

Before we start, I want to clarify what I mean by “Not wanting to work.”

It means, that I don’t want to exhaust myself. I want to roll out of bed at 8 am then go to a workout class at 9 am. I want to spend my time as I please while keeping my workload to a minimum.

Working consistently, burns me out. I have no desire to prove my worth through productivity, nor do I have any desire to engage in hustle culture. I’m sure many of us can relate to feeling like the pressure to perform is exhausting. This is likely why, “soft life” is the latest trend on social media and has taken the girlies on Tiktok by storm.

In this new soft life era apparently, no one has a job and everyone is a "sahm" or "sahgf". While I understand the desire to escape the matrix and have a man you can fully depend on. Creating a more balanced and fulfilling life does not have to solely depend on your partner (though it helps!).

At the end of the day we still all want money! So how can we create an abundant life while still having a work-life balance?

Step 1: Be willing to make sacrifices

There is no such thing as something for nothing. Get that out of your head! I know we sometimes want to be saved, but unfortunately, life isn’t always a fairytale. Everything that we desire in life requires us to give up something else.

Do you want a better body? Give up junk food and exercise more. Do you want a better man? Give up your dust! To bring in the new we have to get rid of the old. If you want a soft life you’re going to have to strategize and be willing to give up what is no longer serving you.

Step 2: Find a passion you can monetize

*major key*

As the saying goes, “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life”. Find something you enjoy doing, then figure out how you, can earn money from it. Are you good at doing hair? Become a hairdresser. Are you the best dressed in your circle? Become a virtual stylist. I promise you, for whatever talent you have there are people willing to pay you for it!

For myself, I love teaching and writing! Blogging is a great way to share my expertise, create passive income, and create the life of my dreams that don’t necessarily depend on me going into a job. Also, you can make money blogging with a relatively small audience.

Check out my blog post "Make Money When your Young, Pretty & Ambitious." For more on this topic.

Step 3: Invest, invest, invest

*Another major key*

We all need money to survive. There’s no way around it! Ideally, we would live a life where money isn’t an issue and if that is your goal you have to start investing ASAP! By investing in assets eventually, those assets will make you money.

For example, invest in stocks like the S&P 500 (which is an index fund that is essentially many companies in one stock). Invest in stocks that will grow over time and make you more money than you bought them for. There are tons of ways to start investing: choose one!

A few types of investments

Real estate

Stocks

Businesses

If living a soft life is a priority to you start today with these steps that will eventually allow you to either fully retire or work minimally. If you don’t, you’ll just be stuck doing something you don’t enjoy or waiting for prince charming to come and save you.

©Chichiscloset 2023

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 17]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Heavily Implied Animal Cruelty (Lab Rats), Mild Body Horror, Implied Anxiety, Implied Depression, 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: 9.0K

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

Notes: I told y'all it wasn't going to take long this time LOLOLOL although no promises for the next one, classes are ramping up a bit so I cranked this one out before I got on that grind lolol but, as always, I hope you all enjoy!

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)

2022

The silence was tense. No one dared to say a single word and, while you usually enjoyed moments like these, the sound of the papers in your hand being the only noise in a room filled with six people was unnerving at best. A few hours ago you had finished the physical examination with Dr. Bronte and at your request the tests were expedited, with the recent attacks, you couldn’t afford to sit still. You tapped the corner of the map with your pen, watching the inkblot the paper under it. In your hands was a rough drawing of the kingdom and all of its military bases, you had circled the ones that were decimated by the attacks and you’d annotated the remaining ones with how many Knights were assigned there. The map was filled with scribbles and flaws, but the information was still readable. The sudden decrease in Knights was a whole other problem you’d been pushing to the side, and the Knighthood was spread thin as a result. All of the key players were moved to the Capital to surround the Royal family while the newer recruits were sent to the further sections.

Despite this, you could just barely make out the hushed conversations.

“Is that really…?” Dick’s voice was quiet, trained.

“Yeah, it has to be, it is,” Damian’s, natural.

“But you saw her on the field, it hasn’t been that.…”

“You don’t…”

“But I do, if no one else, I do…”

“Where’s Jason? I’m sure…”

‘It’s just… something isn’t right.”

You took a deep breath and focused. Keeping your hands busy to avoid suspicion, their voices became clearer.

“Some things just aren’t adding up,” Dick mutters. “Why and how are the major things.”

“Of course those wouldn’t make sense, Grayson.”

“Bruce, what do you think? You’ve been quiet this whole time,” Dick probes.

“There’s not enough information, we’re missing too much of the big picture,” he answers, his gaze matching yours for a second before breaking. Would it kill them to just ask you? You were right there. But you couldn’t blame them, a family of detectives, it’s only natural that they want to save their pride and solve the case that is you before you could even figure it out yourself.

“Hey, if you’re done hyper-analyzing me can one of you toss me those painkillers?” You asked loudly.

“Yeah, here,” Dick grabs the bottle from the shelf and hands it to you. “What dose are you supposed to take?” You ignored him, opened the bottle, and took the whole thing. “(Y/N)!”

“Relax, bird boy,” you waved him off and closed your eyes, the pain finally subsiding. You’d been ignoring it since you woke up, but it messed with your focus too much. You weren’t too much of a fan of them, expectedly once they wore off you felt like you were in more pain than before. But this was a new kind of pain, you think, it felt like everything was threatening to rip open at the seams if they weren’t already. “It’ll take nine of these to make any effect,” you reassured him. “I wonder if the lingering effects of the serum have anything to do with this,” you thought aloud.

“We’re not analyzing you, (Y/N), we’re just trying to find out how this is possible.”

“Little sister almost dies again and still her family ignores her, fun.”

“(Y/N),” Dick’s voice takes a new tone and you turned away from him. You didn’t relax again until you noticed him return to the others.

“Some family reunion,” you scoffed quietly, spinning the pen in your hands while you skimmed over the map in your lap and the pages of survey notes in your other. In a world filled with technological marvels, old habits still seemed to die hard, memories of the stacks and piles of papers in your room came back to you, painstakingly recreated and re-detailed notes from your classes and constant observations and findings from your research, some would call have called that the lowest point of your life. Even now, to avoid their whispers and stares, you buried yourself with work.

~

2018

The alarm clock ticked menacingly in your room, a constant reminder of upcoming due dates and the steady yet glaringly short amount of time. You bounced your pen on your thigh while looking at the spread of loose papers pinned to the cork in front of you. Mathematic equations have been written, crossed out, marked over, scribbled through, and rewritten across a canvas of loose pages with haphazard arrows and messily drawn circles around key information, and even then some were violently crossed out with red ink. Sticky notes littered with barely legible writing were sometimes pinned or taped in place. But you couldn’t toss anything out, what if a previous calculation was correct and you had tossed it out on accident? No way, and so those papers were gathered in a stack lining the floor underneath the board.

You were so close to cracking the formula, you were certain. With no reasonable way to ask Bane about the concoction himself, you were stuck in a cycle of trial and error, a secretive one, that only your professor knew about and approved. To your lab colleagues you were studying stem cell regeneration and repurposing, but in truth, your search for a new and improved serum was at a standstill. Maybe you should have just bit the bullet and accepted the grotesque body trauma that came with drinking the serum, but… 

“Maybe if I adjust this amount…” you muttered quietly, running through the quick calculations in your head.

You didn’t want to be a monster.

You’re not one. You’re different. You had to look the part of the hero. You had to match the legacy somehow if you truly were going to go through this. You could argue day and night about your noble intentions but that wouldn't detract from what everyone would see on the surface. You had to be sure. You had to be perfect. And, most of all, you had to have the insurance.

“But then I’d have to account for the-” your head snapped to the window of your room, causing Tim, in his Red Robin uniform, to pause his movements.

“You look… bad,” he says, a look of concern settling on his features.

“Ever heard of knocking, Tim?” You know you said he could drop by whenever he wanted, he was more than welcome always, but you weren’t expecting him to actually do it. At least, not after that nasty fight with your dad. And definitely through your front door.

“Sorry, sis, uh… I brought a snack if you want some?” He pulls his mask off and shows you the paper bag. You could only sigh at the telltale grumble of your stomach.

“Sure, let’s eat in the kitchen,” you left the room first and he stepped into your room, closing and locking the window behind him. He took a brief pause, a small moment, to look at the state of your mind. On top of your dresser was a line of emptied coffee mugs and energy drinks, some showing signs of having been there for weeks and some brand new. Your bed wasn’t made, but that wasn’t a new from the manor. Aside from the general stuffiness of the room, there was the modest wall plug to combat it, but it paled to the pile of unfolded clothes piled up on your desk chair.

Your desk. Tim looked at the large corkboard in front of it.

What were all those calculations for? He knew you to be an exceptional student, a brilliant one actually, but he couldn’t figure out what was in front of him. Not with your handwriting, and not with how the information was laid out. Only you could’ve understood your own madness.

Worse than the corkboard had to be the stacks of paper. They were all on the floor, but why was it that the shortest stack was as tall as he was? He pulled the first paper from the top and skimmed over it, but his eyebrows scrunched together. It was just… scribbles. Whatever was on it before was indiscernible now. But, he swears, he could see the faint outline of a bat in the scribbles.

“Tim? What’s the holdup?” You called him out and with one last glance, a quick and well-calculated grab of all your mugs, Tim walked out of your room.

“What’s with the freak calculations?” You watched Tim place all your mugs in the sink before sitting down.

“CAPSTONE Thesis, why?” You finished cleaning out one of your many mugs and placed it in front of Tim, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into it.

“Real funny, (Y/N),” Tim snorts when he sees the Robin-themed mug.

“It’s a collectible!” You defended. Tim looks into the mug for a moment.

“Did you need any help with your thesis? I have a lot of free time these days,” he says.

“No, all good, I want the satisfaction of saying it was all my work,” you told him. “You’re all amazing, don’t get me wrong, and I appreciate all of your help, but I want this to be my thing, you know?” You explained and Tim could only nod. “I just…” you look at your mug now, Tim notices the dried coffee drips along the sides of it and the chip on it’s rim. Tim looked at his mug and noted that it was pristine. “I want to have something like all of you. Dick’s the acrobat, Jason’s the man of the people, you’re probably the smartest kid in the world, and Damian… well, he’s still trying to figure his thing out other than ‘the product of his upbringing,’ I just want to have something other than ‘the normal one.’” You explained. He didn’t realize it until now, but the dark circles under your eyes almost made you look dead.

“I mean… you are the named heir to Wayne Enterprise,” Tim says.

“Were,” you corrected.

“Are,” he corrects you again. “Bruce can’t be mad at you forever, (Y/N).”

“I know, Tim, but…” You hesitated. “It was bad,” you didn’t say anything more.

No one was there. No one saw or heard the argument. It was just you and him. He didn’t talk about it, and you didn’t talk about it either. You’d never argued like that before, it was so intense it almost didn’t seem like it was him and when he wore that fucking cowl he’d might as well be a stranger to you, hell, that night he basically was. Never had you argued like that, and never had he spoken to you in that way. But you knew that recently it was just argument after argument between the two of you, and usually one or the other would give up and settle. But this time?

Nothing. Radio silence on both ends. You shouldn’t have instigated the way you did. Now so much more was on the line than just your name.

“It’s been a month.”

“Has it?” You looked at your phone. It has. Barbara’s swearing-in ceremony was coming up soon. It was on the same day as your thesis presentation and you’d long told Barbara that you wouldn’t be able to make it. You had plans the next day for a girls’ trip with her, Steph, and Cass after though.

“You know… Alfred still sets a plate for you.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“You’re welcome to come back,” Tim says carefully. You don’t answer, instead, you begin tapping the bottom of your phone against the counter, which is enough of a sign that you weren’t going to answer.

“Is that a new phone?” Tim asks.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I left the old one at home and figured I’d get myself a new one before I got cut off,” you half-joked with him.

“Can I see it?” You handed it to him, unlocked, and he seemed to tinker with it for a short while before handing it back to you. “I added the distress call app on it,” he says.

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you looked at the app on your screen, the icon sporting Barbara’s famous insignia on it.

“What do you mean? Of course, I had to,” he says. “Did you want me to bring your phone here?”

“No, it’s fine, that data’s not important anyway. I’ll just drop by in a couple days to get the last of my things. I didn’t want to go earlier while I was still royally pissed off,” you mumbled. Tim hummed quietly. He looked at your hands, it was evident that you’d been chewing on your fingernails. 

‘That’s new,’ he thought.

“Stop it.” Your voice cut through the silence like a knife. Tim blinked out of his thoughts and shook his head.

“I’m sorry?” He looked at you now and felt his heart stop. Had he ever seen your expression like that before? What was it? Fear? Concern? Shock?

… Anger?

You shook your head, running your hand down the side of your face.

“Sorry, I’m just tired,” you muttered. You grabbed the bag he brought and pulled out its contents. “And… hungry.”

“Yeah,” Tim looked down. “Are you sure you’re okay, sis?”

“I’ll be fine.” You took the empty mugs and stacked them in the sink. “I think you should go now, Tim. These deadlines… they’re catching up, you know? I love you, I do, but…”

“No, I get it, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tim stumbles off the stool. “Just… let me know if you need anything too.”

“Sure.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Then it’s likewise.” You stood up and opened the door for him and he stood at the doorway for a while.

“I’m fine, Tim, really I am, you don’t have to worry about me,” you repeated. “So stop studying me. I hate it when you guys do that.” You finally said it. You knew he’d been doing it since he got here, that’s why he spent so long in your room, why he was so quiet while you were preparing coffee, and even why he’d asked for your phone. You grew up with this kid, you knew exactly how his mind worked, and yet you could easily tell that he couldn’t read you at all.

Good, to some extent, at least one of your mother’s teachings has stuck with you past these years.

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that,” he was quick to defend.

“I know. Just be aware of it now,” you held your hand out to stop him. “Bye, Tim.” You closed the door and he heard the locks fasten. He stood a while longer, wondering if he should knock or come back around the window.

He had to, just a quick glance. The way you paced your room, the way you stacked papers and tore them off the wall, it was like you were in a manic state. What were you trying so hard to find out? All this over a thesis? Just what did you and Bruce argue about so much that it left you like this? Again, he is pulled from his thoughts by a sudden sound. He looked up into the window and saw your disappointed face.

“Go home.” He couldn’t hear your voice through the window, but it was clear enough what you said. You pulled the blinds down and he jumped down the fire escape. He looked at his phone, a text chime coming in at almost too perfect a time.

‘How is she?’ A text from Bruce Wayne.

‘Fine, working on her thesis.’

‘Did you tell her to come home?’ Tim stared at the message. Why couldn’t he do it himself? Why go through the trouble of having a middleman?

‘She’ll drop by to grab her things later.’ And the conversation ended there. There was this strange feeling in his chest. Dick couldn’t convince you to come home, Jason didn’t agree with forcing you to come back when you clearly didn’t want to, and Barbara was too busy focusing on everything else and could only offer her support in other ways. Maybe it was too prideful of him to think that it would’ve been his words that convinced you to come back.

Or, maybe the falling out was just that bad.

~

2022

“Could I help you out?” Tim chimed next to you, pulling up a chair and waiting expectantly. You shifted so he could see the map.

“It’s already done, but I can walk you through it. Knight allocation. Right now we have to keep the castle fortified, so that means all of us in the Brigade and our usual squadrons. As a result, we have this number left to move around,” you pointed at the numbers as you explained. “I was planning on dispersing them evenly, but with new intel for predicted daemon attacks, I want to fortify those military bases more.”

“Makes sense,” Tim nods. “In that case, these inner forts can be kept at a minimum,” he points at them. 

“That’s the plan,” you scribbled in numbers. “It’s not ideal though. With everyone dying no one wants to enlist anymore,” You sighed.

“A couple people went home already,” Damian adds. You leaned back on your hospital bed, staring at the muted news feed above you.

Captain Wayne Hospitalized. Brigade on Standby.

Standby? Whoever said that? You were working them half to death trying to find anything on these monsters.

“How do you feel, (Y/N)?” It was still such a foreign feeling to hear Bruce talk to you.

“Fine,” you answered him while placing the clipboard on the side table. “I know you have questions, I see the cogs turning, so just ask me already.”

“It’s… it’s not that we’re trying to theorize, sis, we’re trying to find out what to ask first.” Tim to the rescue. “We have no idea where to start.”

“Let me say the basics then,” you crossed your arms. “I died in 2019. Official cause of death was severe blood loss. I woke up here, somewhat together and sitting in the middle of a field. Shortly after I was found by a couple, around the same age as you, Bruce. The woman was a baker and the man was the then Captain of the Knights. After a few months of them helping me get back on my feet, I wanted to repay their gratitude. I either worked for their bakery, or I put my near decade of observing all of you to good use. I went with the latter, joined that year’s class of cadets, took three advancement exams, and now I’m here as one of the leading captains of the knights.” You gave the facts only, that’s all they needed. “After my third advancement, the royal family handed out “blessings” to those who survived the advancement, enhanced powers that were supposed to help us out in the field. It’s why you’ve seen Carter make fire from nothing, Alex pull people from themselves, it takes a great deal of energy since they’re synthesized, but in last-ditch efforts, they’re quite helpful. But to avoid droning on about the theory of it, I’ll stop there.” You leaned back now, waiting for them to ask anything.

“So that skill of yours.”

“Not reattachment,” you shook your head. “That was because of some weird black magic shit that Alex cast so I wouldn’t die during my last advancement mission. Apparently, it was royal decree so he couldn’t say no,” you looked at the scars on your wrist. Maybe you were just imagining it, but they seemed to be stretching, as if you were falling apart at the seams.

“So then…” Damian now. “What is your ability?”

“Control over—”

“Captain?” There is a soft knock at the door before it slides in. Marion and Dr. Bronte enter swiftly, the former holding a grim expression, ending the conversation prematurely. “We have your results,” she says while handing the chart to Dr. Bronte. His head shifts slightly, acknowledging everyone in the room.

“They can stay,” you assured him. He responds with a nod. “Everyone, who hasn’t met him, this is Dr. Bronte. He’s been my primary care since landing here.” Bruce extends a hand out to him.

“I’m her father,” he introduces. Marion clears her throat awkwardly when Dr. Bronte makes no moves.

“You’ll have to excuse him, Mr. Wayne. Because of the accident, he prefers not to come into contact with strangers,” she explains.

“Understandable,” he steps back just as Marion moves to be next to you.

“How are the wounds?” You looked under your hospital gown.

“Healed, but with no sign of reattachment.” 

“Could I see your hand?” She asks. You stretch your arm out and she gently grasps your arm just above the scars. She brushes over them carefully and observes their connecting points. Dr. Bronte and Marion share a look, and she places a semi-spherical device on your lap. In seconds, it buzzes to life showing an array of images.

“We took a few samples from the open wounds earlier, Cap,” she starts. “These are the videos of your reattachment abilities from your previous physical after we added a shallow cut to your palm. Notice how the red blood cells and your skin cells stretch to cover and compensate for the lost ones while some reach out toward stray drops like magnets, and at the same time notice how fast the platelets react to the injury and cauterize the cut. This next video shows how fast the surrounding skin cells interweave together to close the wound.” This was all information you already knew, but your siblings seemed to listen carefully in their own ways. “Now, these are your current labs. There are no sudden increases in RBC count and the cauterization process is now at an average speed. But, there is a sudden decrease in overall cell activity. A majority of your cells have gone into a stage known as autolysis, they’re breaking down at a rapid rate which is causing the delays in your reattachment.” The video plays as she explains it.

“So, I’m a normal person now,” you tried to put it in layman’s terms.

“Not necessarily, autolysis at this rate doesn’t occur until…” she trails off and Dr. Bronte clears his throat.

“The open wounds, they’re specifically centered around those existing scars you had before entering the Knighthood,” Dr. Bronte steps in and you nod to confirm the information. “To put things bluntly, you’ve entered a state of decomposition, Captain Wayne.” 

Now this caught your attention.

Decomposition?

“So she’s a zombie?!” Dick was the one to break the silence.

“You could say that, yes,” the masked doctor nods. “Ironically, it was that chemical that almost ripped your body apart that’s saving you right now, Captain,” Dr. Bronte hands you a small box and, upon opening it, you found several small vials of the βα-V serums you’d so painstakingly researched and, later, painstakingly ingested. 

“Just like you had intended, βα-V compound is inherently an enhancer. While you had ingested it, the rate of cell division increased ten-fold and the rush of it all is what sustained your adrenaline levels for so long. If you hadn’t taken it, then it’s no exaggeration to say that you’d be counted among the casualties of that attack,” Marion explains. “So, Dr. Bronte and I ran the calculations and separated what we had left into these dosages. Twice a day, consistent, and twelve hours in between. I’m not completely sure yet, but my fear is that those old scars will start opening again without it, I’d rather err on the safe side,” Marion advises. “You’re going to need this,” she hands you a syringe and you let out a small laugh. “Injection straight into the bloodstream is advised over ingestion.”

“Got it,” you took one of the vials and loaded it into the syringe. You lined the needle against one of your veins and pressed it into your skin. “Should I do it quickly or gradually?”

“Whichever you’re comfortable with,” Dr. Bronte answers. You ripped off the bandaid and pushed the entirety of its contents into you, pulling the empty syringe out and wrapping it in a tissue. You watched the green appear for moments before dissolving into your bloodstream.

“I’ll have the remaining syringes sent to your office, Captain.” She takes the syringe and disposes it into the proper bin. “We’ll run a few more labs now that you’ve started the treatment and we’ll continue to monitor your cell count. You’re welcome to continue doing your duties as Captain, but you need to dial it back. The βα-V serum isn’t as effective when your body is in shambles.”

“Right, right,” you sighed and looked at the vials in your lap and handed it to Marion. “Leave this there too then, please,” you told her.

“Do you have any theories why you’ve stopped reattaching, Captain?” Marion asks. “Anything at all. Any changes to your daily life? Exposure to dangerous chemicals?”

“Nothing has changed except for the fact that there are now destructive monsters destroying the continent,” you answered. That and… You looked around the room.

Them. But they couldn’t have caused this, right? You were certain that there weren’t any meta-viral strands you had to be wary of from your original earth, but in terms of changes they’d have to be the only ones.

“If you can come up with anything at all, Captain, let me know immediately,” Marion says.

“Of course,” you nodded and Dr. Bronte stood up.

“We’ll take our leave,” he says with a stiff salute. Marion responds in kind and you dismiss them.

Again the room falls into silence, and luckily it didn’t last long.

“Captain, brought you a pick me up,” Alex enters the room with Constantine, handing you your drink and placing the rest on the table. “There’s some for everyone, feel free to help yourselves,” he says. 

“Reeks of magic all over the place,” Constantine exasperates. “For somewhere that relies so much on tech, seems like magic’s just as important.”

“They are warring factions,” you hummed, thinking back to the war that had embroiled the continent just a few years ago. “Well, how’s the search?” You asked Constantine.

“Your daemons might be magic,” Constantine answers. You drank your coffee.

“Better than nothing,” you sighed and handed another paper to Alex. “That’s next month’s assignments, since you’re acting Captain I’ll trust you to disperse everyone,” you said.

“Certainly,” Alex nods. “Sorry to contribute to the crowd, I’ll leave after discussing one more thing with you,” he says.

“It’s fine, just ask away,” your hand gestured toward him.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You paused your movements and looked at him.

The whole time they’ve been here, they haven’t spoken to you once aside to ask why, and there they were in their little corner filled with questions that you probably had the answers to, and yet they still didn’t ask you. That wall that separated you from them, after all these years, it was still there. Higher than ever. Even if Tim was sitting right next to you, even if Damian was sleeping next to you just minutes earlier.

You’re still a stranger to them, and they to you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I should be asking you, you look horrible, should I ask Henry to fill in more?”

“Please, Henry can’t do half of what we do. I’ll take a day off tomorrow though if all’s in order.” Despite his reassurance, your worries only grew. The dark circles under his eyes, the hallowed cheeks, and the overall sallowness worried you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so drained, actually, he almost looked dead. And here you were, properly rested and looking more alive than ever disregarding the worrisome scars. And it wasn’t just you either, you could see the way Constantine noticed your worry, and you could tell he felt the same.

“Granted,” you finally answered. “Anyway, isn’t there a rule about how many people can come in during visitation?” You asked aloud.

“Doesn’t apply to family,” Alex answers. The door slid open again with a slam and this time your poor assistant came in.

“Cap, it’s an emergency,” he looks around with frenzied eyes, “the Colonel's back and he’s—”

“Where is she?!” A voice boomed down the hospital corridors and, somehow, it seemed to shake the very walls. “I swear to fucking god if she’s missing any body part I’ll destroy the lot of you! The fuck kind of report is this anyway?! Captain Wayne in critical condition, don’t make me fucking laugh, she reattaches faster than I can even say the goddamn word, how badly must you all have fucked up for her not to?!”

“Oh god, here comes the cavalry, open the window for me, Aldryn,” you shook your head just as a new person entered the room. An overbearing aura fills the small space in an instant, it's the same feeling one would feel when they realized they’re outclassed, outnumbered, or outplanned. And the only thing that changed was the addition of this one individual. Then again, it was understandable. Anyone who marched into a hospital room covered in blood, riddled with scars, and with a just lit cigarette would be shocked.

“Beat it, Aldryn,” the man juts his thumb over his shoulder and the other rushes out. “Jesus Christ,” the Colonel grimaces while putting the cigarette out in a nearby potted plant, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he shifts his weight onto one leg and looks at the state of you. “Been a while since you had to stay in a hospital room.”

“Colonel MacLennan,” the nurse finally catches up with him, “visitation… is full,” she huffs. He holds his hand up and gently urges her out of the room.

“I’ll be in and out.” He takes the liberty of closing the door. The Colonel was originally away on another continent for a foreign aid mission and recently returned back after its conclusion, however, despite his distance he had also been keeping an eye on the monster problem. “So, what the hell happened? Tell me the good part so I know what to tell Claire, then tell me the bad part so I can find out how to kill the bastards.”

“Oh, yeah, your rifle was so helpful,” you scoffed. And just like that the tension broke.

“The hell do you mean?!”

“Go figure bullets don’t work on mutated monsters.” You pick up the clipboard back up and feign boredom.

“That rifle saved thousands of lives in the war!”

“And yet it hasn’t taken a single one since its reinstatement.”

“You little,” Allistor takes a deep breath before continuing. “And you, you see your old mate after years and you don’t say anything?” He turns to Constantine.

“You looked like you were busy,” he raises his hands in turn and you push yourself off of bed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” different voices chimed and you found yourself being pushed back down by Tim.

“We still don’t know how your body is reacting to the chemicals, take it easy,” Tim advises you.

“Actually, I think I might be the only one who knows how it reacts,” you corrected. “Relax, I just wanted to sit up is all,” you brushed him off and adjusted the pillow behind you. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine, it wasn’t an injury to warrant a return to the Capital.”

“Of course I had to come back, did a daemon hit you over the head so hard you forgot how to take care of yourself?!”

“You couldn’t have at least, I don’t know, showered before coming in? You’re going to attract minor monsters here, you know.”

“Like you couldn’t just step on them and have it over with,” he argues. “Have you even seen the mission report?” Allistor grimaces. “It was gruesome, that’s what it was, you know I’m still your guardian, right? What would I be if I didn’t check on you after reading that,” he shakes his head. “Anyway, why the hell’s this room so stuffy, it’s crowded in here,” he complains.

“You could say that again,” you groaned. “Allistor, this is my family. My older brother Dick, my younger brothers Tim and Damian, and the man who raised me, Bruce,” you pointed at each of them as you introduced them. “Family, this is my boss, Allistor MacLennan,” you introduced him last. “Apparently you know Constantine already so there’s no need to introduce him.”

“We shared a drink a few years ago,” Constantine corrects.

“An oversimplification of what happened, but whatever. What’s your prognosis?” Allistor presses. “Your boss who took you into his family is worried,” he snarks back.

“What do you think? Bedrest until my body reattaches properly again,” you grumbled, looking down at the stitched wounds along your scars. “You can tell Claire that I’m fine, she doesn’t have to come over too.”

“Christ, kid,” Allistor drags a tired hand down his face. “You really know how to make someone worry. I only approved that weird chemical you and Mary were working on because I thought it gave you something to do outside of training, I didn’t expect it to put you in a hospital bed,” he says.

“So you’re pulling funding from it?” You asked.

“No, it’s too far in development anyway,” he shakes his head. “Plus, looks like you’ll be needing more of it now.” The conversation dies out, and you finish your cup of coffee in the meantime.

“Any other questions?” You ask him.

“No, I’ll leave now that I’ve seen you in one piece,” he says. “Alex, take a few days, you look like you’re about to keel over there. I can pick up any of (Y/N)’s tasks.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” Allistor looks around the room one last time. “About that thing you asked, Alex.”

“Hm?”

“You were right. Cosmo never returned his watch.” You looked up from the clipboard now. Then you turned to Alex. It wasn’t Constantine he called that day. “Makes sense, he went straight to the first subjugation from his mission in E-34. And since there was no body to recover the watch never made it back either.”

“I see, thank you,” he nodded.

“Yeah, but… Figured I’d mention it now since I would’ve told (Y/N) anyway,” Allistor rubbed the back of his head harshly. “But don’t take it as an invitation. (Y/N), don’t poke your nose into anything too dangerous.” 

“I know,” you answer him in a way to cut the topic and Allistor catches on easily. “Just quit nagging and go already, Aldryn will give you the rundown.”

“Would you rather me nag or Claire?”

“This whole thing is going to drive me insane,” you slammed the clipboard on the table and Alex sighed.

“Want me to keep looking into any dimension fluxes?”

“If you could, that would be helpful, do it after your break,” you told him. ‘When did you ask the Colonel to look into Cosmo’s gear?”

“After Damian landed here. There’s no other way to get into this dimension without it so I figured that one of them had to be missing, but it still doesn’t add up,” he answers. You took the tablet now and opened a file. A debrief projects and you turn it so your siblings could see it. 

“Allow me to explain. If you haven’t noticed, the knights primarily work in trios. There were six of us in the Brigade until the daemon attacks started. The first time we ran into a mutated daemon was on the outskirts of the town Helio, where frequent wildfires had been reported. All six of us went, but we got too cocky, didn’t have a good plan against a daemon we had no info on, and so one of us stayed behind to fight. Fire took everything, all that was left behind was a necklace and a sword,” you explained. “We assumed the watch melted in the fire, they’re not very heat resistant, you see, even Carter has to be mindful of his temperature with the newer models. So your theory is that someone got their hands on Cos’ watch and now they’re wreaking havoc,” you finish with a question and Alex answers with a nod. 

“It’s all I have to work with,” he says. Tim looks over the details carefully.

“Sounds right to me, but you know more than us in this situation, (Y/N),” Dick says. “All I can tell you is how we found it in the first place.”

“I’ll take anything.”

“I assumed it was yours only because it was on your seat after you left,” Tim says. “But now that I think about it, there’s no way I can know if someone dropped it off while I was knocked out, and your friends made sure to cut all the cameras during your escape too so we can’t even fall back on that.”

“I see.”

“For what it’s worth, it’s the same watch that sent us here too,” Tim adds on.

“Do you still have it?”

“No, Zee zapped it to the manor while she was trying to bring Jason and Tim back,” Constantine answers. “Did you need it?”

“It’d definitely help track who used it last.”

“Hypothetically,” Tim clears his throat.

“Hm?”

“Could it also do that if it was broken?” Tim asks quietly. You blink.

“Which one of you broke it.”

“For the record, I was trying to get it back so we could study it more. I have no clue what Jason wanted it for.”

“Well, there goes the main lead,” you shrugged. “Gotta look around for a different avenue then,” you turned to Alex, who leaned against the table next to you.

Then, for the final time, the door opens.

“Your Highness,” you fixed your expression quickly just as Allistor and Alex stood at attention.

“At ease,” he says, seemingly reading the room quite quickly. “I have a message for you from the Queen,” he looks around. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

“Just say it, your highness.”

“You’re ending your bedrest early, your services are required.”

“Does the Queen know her perfect soldier’s not reattaching anymore?”

“You’re not reattaching?” The Prince is shocked.

“Nope, Dr. Bronte wanted me to wait until the wounds are healed over before doing anything intensive,” you explained. “‘Fraid I can’t do work right now.”

“That’s…” the Prince swallows harshly. “It can’t wait,” he says with a more serious tone.

“Look, Your Highness, I know your word is law but what good will (Y/N) be if she worsens her condition,” Alex cuts in. The Prince glares at him and he matches his look. “Whatever it is—”

“The Queen is demanding for the Dark Knight,” Calvin blurts out. Your jaw clenches just as you feel the attention turn to you.

“That’s out of the question. Even for our normal operations we need to be in top condition, going on a special ops mission could put so much strain that I might actually lose a limb.” You chanced a glance at your hand, the scars more prominent than ever.

“Please, you know as well as I do that this is just a formality,” Calvin argues. He looks you over. “You’re fine.” You’ve never heard him take that tone before.

“Take it up with Bronte then,” Allistor argues.

“It’s a royal order.”

“Doctor’s orders can overwrite those if they believe the patient’s health is not in the best interest,” Allistor cited. “How long are you going to argue, Your Highness?”

“Give me a few days then, I’ll report in as soon as I can, and I’m not stupid enough to disregard Dr. Bronte’s diagnosis,” you finally answered. If you said no the Queen would’ve come here herself to tell you to do it anyway, and you didn’t want her crossing paths with your family unless absolutely necessary. As long as you don’t strain yourself too much it should be fine anyway, you think. Calvin seemed to relax at this.

“We’ve sent the details over.”

“Figured. Is there anything else you need, Your Highness?” You open the file on the holoscreen and start to read the details.

“No, that’s all.”

“Actually, perfect timing, Your Highness, I’ll give you the debrief on my mission,” Allistor kicks off the wall and approaches the prince, urging him out of the room. “Top secret stuff, we should leave.”

“Ah, yes—” Allistor shuts the door behind them.

“Is it… is it really just a formality?” Tim asks after a short pause. “You’re really fine?”

“You saw the labs, and you see me now. If anything I should just be more mindful of just tanking my way through enemies,” you say.

“I was just thinking… they haven’t even set up a heart monitor for you, how would they be able to tell if you’re stable?” Tim looks at the unplugged device with its wires wrapped around the base. “I haven’t seen another doctor or nurse walk by aside from the ones who’ve been helping you…”

“Drake, I could use your insight, actually,” Alex interrupts him. “All of you could help, really. It might speed up this whole daemon process faster,” he clears his throat. “You’re outside sources, and Constantine and I are gathering as much information as we can from the daemons, if you’re okay with answering a few questions. Might get you home earlier if we can crack it,” he says.

“Yes, we should focus on the pressing task,” you push yourself up and feel the scars stretching. “Unnff,” you winced and held your hand up, already feeling Tim’s hand hovering behind you. “Just need air, this room’s stuffy,” you moved toward the window and looked outside before settling on its sill. “Anything else you need from me?” You looked around the room.

“Nothing too pressing, Captain,” Alex answers.

“Good, I’ll take my leave too then,” you cleared your throat. It was silent for a moment and you looked down the window before glancing at the clock. You leaned backward and the first person you saw halfway out the window was Dick.

“Are you crazy?!” He shouts.

“Relax! I got her!” Jason shouts under you, catching you easily and setting you down. “I’m not gonna die for helping you break out of hospital jail, right?”

“Nope, let’s go,” you ran off as soon as the door slammed open. You both took off, seeing your motorcycle parked and at the ready.

“Here, you be backpack,” Jason shoved the helmet in your hand and you pushed it back.

“What? No! You be backpack!” Jason pushed the helmet back into your hands.

“Hell no, I’m bigger therefore I need more space.” You groaned and pushed it back to him.

“And I’m shorter therefore it makes more sense for me to be in the front! And you’d have less space in the front!” Jason tries to pull the helmet from your hands and you pull back.

“Womp womp, you’re backpack.”

“It’s my bike!”

“I’m older!”

“Fine! Just give me the helmet!” He tries to tug it harder and you pull back, seeing him lose his footing for a second.

“No! You’re just going to shove it on my head and make me backpack!” 

“When’d you get so strong anyway?!”

“Shut up and let me drive!”

“Busted,” Dick pulled the helmet from between your hands. You and Jason paused.

“Bruce says we’re both hardheaded anyway,” you climbed on the motorcycle and Jason was quick to follow. You revved the engine and left dust in your trail.

“You two, I swear!” Dick shouts from far behind.

“So where are we going anyway?!” Jason shouts over the air.

“Keep your mouth shut, you’ll catch a bug,” you grinned, revving forward and completing your escape.

You read the mission details. You really did have to deal with this now. The daemon problem was bad enough, and you knew that you couldn’t deal with another war on top of that.

~

Earth - 617

“Thank you so much, Cass,” Zatanna smiles as the former hands her a warm mug.

“Sure,” she crosses her arms and continues to watch Zatanna work away.

“I still can’t believe it, was (Y/N) really here?” Barbara asks. “We didn’t even get to see her, I bet those boys said something stupid and chased her out,” she shakes her head. “She… she was really going through it those last few days, I can only imagine how her mind spun when she returned,” she frowns.

“Cass, what do you think?” Stephanie asks. “You were closest to her.”

“I don’t understand why it affected her so much,” Cass mumbles. “Almost all of us aren’t blood-related,” she says, “I don’t understand why she…” she stumbles over her words and falls silent.

“It’s okay Cass, you don’t have to force it,” Steph says.

“Oh! I think I got it!” Zatanna finishes tinkering with the watch and holds it up, the piece now put back together. “The only thing is, I’m not sure if the enchantment on it would still work,” she says, placing it on the console of the bat computer. “I’ll look into it more tomorrow, I don’t want to accidentally trigger it without fully understanding how it works like those other two did.”

“Fair enough,” Barbara nods. She had been trying to send a message to any of the boys’ comms all day but hadn’t had any success. Luckily, her distress signal to the League was answered and soon enough they’d have a few extra support from other heroes in Batman’s absence but she was worried that it wouldn’t be enough. The region was down five vigilantes, and soon enough the villains will take notice.

But the conversation fell on deaf ears. Cass hadn’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened, and it bothered her that nothing made sense about it. She knew that Tim wasn’t the type to let anything suspicious slide, so why did he let you stay for so long without confronting you? Why did you act the way you did? 

“So frustrating…” she muttered, now alone in the bat cave and staring at the mocking watch. True to Zatanna’s words, it had been hastily put back together and looked to be in shape. Whether it worked or not was yet to be seen, however. She picked it up, the chain threading around her hands, and with extreme caution, she opened it up. Just the same as before she saw the layers of clock hands atop a starry watchface. “Hm…” she closed it and turned it around again before focusing on the watch cover. She squints carefully and sees another opening on it and, out of curiosity, she pried it open. This time it sported a normal watch face, well, semi-normal. She pulled up on the attachment and hummed again. Not often you see sundials as big as your hand. But, perhaps even more curious, was the picture on the backside of the cover. A blonde woman who she’d never seen before with a smile as warm as the sun. Handwritten in small print were the words ‘Come home safe, Cosmo.’

“Cosmo, huh?” Cass closes the watch and stares up at the bat computer, watching the figure talking to Damian over and over again. But distractions were just that. Distractions. And soon she once again felt that foreign emotion climb up inside of her. She truly should have tried harder that night three years ago. All of this, all of this had to be some kind of sick karma.

~

2019 - Gotham University

“(Y/N)? What is all this?” Cassandra asked quietly. You stumbled to your feet, dropping the syringe in your hands, then knocking over the other syringes on the lab table to the ground and the shattering glass caused you to jump. Cass looked around the lab, splotches of red on the tables and floors, unknown serums were mixed into beakers, and syringes— so many syringes— in the glass waste cans everywhere.

“Cassie, I didn’t hear you come in,” you picked up the glass from the ground and disposed of it, then you wiped off the blood on your hands while ignoring the fresh drops that came from the small cuts that littered your palms. “Just my thesis, no worries. I’d never seen it get this crazy though,” you laughed quietly. “Then again, rats aren’t exactly supposed to blow up so there’s that too,” you sighed. “What’s wrong?”

Cass freezes in her spot, her mind overwhelmed by all the signals you were throwing at her, signals that just weren’t supposed to come from you. They were so powerful that she could almost feel them herself.

Dilated pupils, shaking hands —> Anxiety

Tense shoulders, clenched jaw —> Stress

Even breathing, controlled movements —> Understanding?

Why were all of your movements conflicting?

Bloodied hands, chipped nails, whitened knuckles —> Stress

Hunched posture, shifting eyes —> Stress

“Cassie?”

Quiet voice.

“Sorry, must look like a crime scene in here.” She watched you pick up the carcasses from the tables and drop them into biohazard. “I must have gotten too excited, I thought I finally cracked the code.” You washed your hands off after scrubbing the blood from the tables. And all the while, Cass watched you.

You scrubbed the blood off the tables so harshly that the pads of your hands lightened from the pressure. You scrubbed them over and over again as if you didn’t know the blood had been cleaned off already. Then you repeated it with your hands.

Conclusion —> Something is very wrong.

“What…” she muttered.

“Hm?” You rubbed the towel over your hands repeatedly.

“What were you about to inject there?” She asks. You shake your head.

“Ah, don’t even worry about it,” you shook your head and tossed the towel before shoving your hands in your labcoat’s pockets. You were lying. You always hid your hands when you lied. “Just a little project, is all. I felt like the syringe wasn’t working so I was testing the tip on myself.”

“Right over your vein?” You fell silent.

“What are you doing here, Cass?” You asked monotonously. “Dick and Tim have already asked me to come home. I won’t. I can’t. Not until I finish this. He won’t let me come back there until I’ve proven myself.”

“Proven what? Come home, (Y/N). What are you doing to yourself?” Cass couldn’t stop it. The signals kept coming. “You’re going to work yourself to death, (Y/N), and for what? You and Bruce fight all the time, just come home and apologize!”

“I’m not in the wrong, Cass! It wasn’t my fault but he kept saying it was!” Your hand smacked your chest now while the other held onto the table for support. “How was I supposed to know that I wasn’t his daughter?!” Your shoulders slumped and Cass’s expression dropped.

“What are you talking about? You’re (Y/N) Wayne.”

“I thought I was too,” your whole body seemed to sink. “How was I supposed to know I was the cuckoo bird…” you mumbled.

“You can’t be talking about that article that came out, (Y/N). That’s just gossip and you know it,” she says.

“I know, I know but I looked into it anyway. You know I always did wonder why I was so ordinary compared to my parents,” you looked at your hands, convinced there was still blood on them. “I know Selina and I aren’t related. She was just the unfortunate soul who my mother found first. But I was so convinced that Bruce was my father that I didn’t even consider the possibility that he wasn’t.”

“Why does that matter, (Y/N)? None of us are his biological children except for Damian.”

“Because…” you mumbled the rest, clutching your head and digging that hand into the roots of your hair to stop the incoming headache.

“Because what?” Cass took careful steps toward you.

“He told me that I couldn’t come home until I proved that I had some value to this family,” your voice was hopeless. “If I’m not a blood Wayne then I have nothing else.”

“I’m sure that’s not…”

“Then why did he say that to me then, Cass?” You squeezed your eyes shut. “It’s too late for me to become a vigilante, I don’t have the time or the luxury for that.”

“What were you planning to do?” Cass looks around the lab again. “(Y/N)?” She knew that the syringe looked oddly green.

“Nothing, I wasn’t going to do anything,” you straightened your posture as if nothing had happened. Carefully, she took another step toward you, and now you stood at arm’s length.

Dark circles, sunken cheeks —> Sleep deprived

Chapped lips, dry eyes —> Dehydrated

Thinned hair, pale skin —> Deficient

“Cass?” Had your voice been so hoarse? She took a step forward and pulled you into her arms. Slowly, you relaxed into them, a shaky sigh leaving your mouth as you carefully wrapped your own around her. Your hug that was so famously warm was now the opposite, the tightness of it that your family sought after was missing, but the love behind it was still there. “I love my family, Cass. I don’t want to leave you all,” you said into her shoulder.

“Then come home,” she says against your head.

“I can’t.” Cass could feel your tears drop onto her shoulder. “Cass, he won’t let me,” you insisted.

“That doesn’t sound like Bruce,” she says, pulling away just enough to look at you. But soon, and once again, her expression falls when she sees your face.

“I know.”

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@enjisthings 

[workingbynyx]

heey, saw that you were open for requests so I would like to ask for a romcom jason todd x reader where the reader is flirty and has a crush on Red Hood, but has no idea that he is Jason Todd (their regular at the cafe they own) so he gets kinda flustered everytime he sees the reader when he is going to get coffee

(hope you can understand this, english is not my first language)

Beautiful Stranger — Jason Todd x GN!Reader

↷ summary — after a faithful encounter with red hood one night ago, you quickly developed a crush on the masked vigilante. but, would you believe if the cute regular at your coffee shop was him? ˎˊ˗

↷ pairing — jason todd x gn!reader ˎˊ˗

↷ genre — romance, comedy, a bunch of fluff ˎˊ˗

↷ warning/s — none! other than a few curse words, use of y/n and possible grammar errors ˎˊ˗

↷ a/n — hi anon! dw i LOVEEEE that request sm, i hope you have fun reading this as much as i had writing it ^^ i might've switched it up a bit in the process so i'm so sorry for that 😭 i also figured i'd use the wayne family adventures version of jason for this one since it kinda fits the whole theme of this fic hihi and he turned into such a simp in this so it might be ooc at some point help, enjoy reading! ˎˊ˗

"what the hell are you doing here walkin' around late at night?" the masked man said in between short breaths after taking down a robber that's been following you since you closed down the café for tonight. you were lucky enough to have 'the' red hood on patrol and save you from a potential robbery. the thought of him guiding, if not stalking, you and jumping on the thug as soon as he's about to make a move somehow made your heart skip at the act of service...if its even counted with them now laying on the ground unconscious.

what you didn't know is this man was jason, the regular you'd have come in around 9 to 10 am to have his morning coffee and sit around the shop until lunch. you always observed the guy to be somewhat mysterious but endearing at the same time, he'd always ask for the same coffee and pastry combo over and over again, not bothering to change his order. he became quite an easy customer to remember at some point, other than the fact that he had white streaked hair which made him attractive and memorable to you. in fact, everytime he came in all you had to do was ask "the usual?" and jason'll nod along then go back to his corner, mouthing a silent 'thank you' when you deliver his treat and maybe even strike up a conversation if he's in the mood.

but right now, jason is simply the infamous masked red vigilante who just kicked some ass for your own sake.

"my apartment is this way, how was i supposed to know robbers lurked around here" you replied in return, tucking in one of your hands inside the pocket of your coat as you froze in front of him. jason began approaching you and stopped when you came face to face, the height difference between the two of you forced you to tilt your head upwards— the all-white lens of his helmet staring down at you. "watch the news, its not safe out here. take the route to your right next time, and bring at least a pepper spray with you" if only his mask didn't have a built in voice changer you would've known seconds ago it's him.

you were stunned for a moment as he listed down things that'd probably go straight out your other ear. "y'know, for someone i just met you're oddly protective over me" you finally spoke, a hint of mischief underlying your tone. that's when you begun wondering who is it under that costume. is he cute? is he what you're imagining him to be like?

jason, on the other hand, blinked a couple times out of confusion if it weren't for his get up covering his entire features. "what?" he said. "nothing, it's just...i didn't think a vigilante would care so much for a civilian like me" you answered, an innocent smile creeping up your lips like an idiot in love. "its my job. obviously i should look out for the people of Gotham, shouldn't i?" he crossed his arms across his chest, covering the red insignia of his bulletproof suit.

"obviously, i guess i didn't have the special treatment like i thought" you practically said with a slight pout forming when you look up to him, going silent for a moment. "do you really tell all the people you save to bring pepper spray or just me? i wanna know if i got the special advisory from you at least" you added as a tease, earning a slight frustrated groan from jason afterwards. "i don't have time for this—" "well I do" you bravely chimed in without missing a beat. "i got all night even"

the sigh jason had let out was almost comical, he took a step backward when it's really just him starting to get flustered by his barista seemingly flirting with his other identity, who would've thought you'd find him attractive? not jason that's for sure. "get home safe, take the route i told you if you wanna keep your wallet stocked" then he noticed the small cut on your cheekbone, it must've been from the pocket knife the thug had.

he briefly pointed at it, "you got something" you lifted your fingers to search for it only to be met with a slight sting when you did, a small amount of blood staining your index finger. you hissed at the feeling, squinting your eye when it lingered for a bit. "calm down, its not that serious" jason said. "some alcohol and bandaid should do the trick" and you took his advice, you certainly wouldn't allow yourself to show up at work with a random cut to your face.

"y'know why don't you help and patch me up at this point? i could use some assistance" and you still had the nerve to decide and toy around with him for a bit...to see how far the both of you are willing to go. to be fair, you just wanted to know who was it under that mask— this could potentially lead to it if you're lucky. "what are you, 8?" jason replied. "no but i'm surely a 10" you winked playfully, the corner of your lip turning into a smirk as you watched his body language intently.

"jesus christ.." jason muttered under his breath, starting to walk away from this situation he's stuck in. "aw c'mon! that was a smooth line admit it! oh okay— well, thank you red..man! i'll see you soon...i think" you yelled from the same position you're in, seeing his tall frame go farther in the distance. jason didn't say nothing in return, but he kept a secret smile under his mask as he disappeared from sight.

its been a couple weeks since your last encounter with red hood, you took most of his suggestions that night and started going the safer route when you had to be on the closing shift. since then, you've been at the lower risk of getting robbed again thanks to him and his unforgettable presence. but it's not only you who hasn't stopped thinking about that night, jason was still trying to relive the moment of his barista basically flirting with him. he figured you would've known it's him within seconds...guess not.

it didn't bother him, it's the thought of your reaction to him being behind the helmet is what. jason wouldn't blame you though, imagine how shocking it would be to find out your regular is a vigilante at night. it's like betrayal but in a different form. he usually doesn't care about revealing his identity to the people he knows, but when it came to you it's different. he's conscious for the first time, he was overthinking things and coming up with plans how to avoid it from happening in many ways possible so he stopped visiting the shop for a while. it's becoming weird, you two weren't even close to begin with— so why was he stressing so much about it?

while jason spent most of his nights in Gotham thinking about you, you started noticing his frequent visits slowly turned little to nothing at all. you found yourself always anticipating the sound of the bell when the doors open to each customer only to be met with disappointment when he didn't come through. and today seems to be the same, you kept glancing over the glass doors hoping you'd see a tall, slightly scary and muscular man enter...until he finally did.

you feel your heart skip a beat seeing him after a while, the same feeling you got a couple nights ago but you didn't mind. you quickly went over the cashier, mentally ready to take his order with a smile. "hey! welcome back, i didn't see you in here for a while" you greeted when he stopped right at the counter. jason wore a red hoodie and a brown leather jacket layering over it, he must've liked wearing that a lot. "oh...uh yeah," he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, trying to come up with something. "i got caught up in work. i didn't have the time to stop buy for coffee" that's a lie. "but i'm here now" is he really?

"oh, you must've been really busy then?" you added, listening to his reason. "definitely yeah," lies once again. jason sucked in a breath, looking away to get a glimpse of the menu like he really is getting anything else other than an americano and cookies. "got anything new f'me?" he asked which took you by surprise. "you're not getting the usual anymore?" you said. "eh well, it gets old after a while" he says.

"that's fair, well we got new cake flavors if you wanna try them out. what would you like?" you then tap a few things into the register to input his order to which he asks for a latte and dark chocolate cake. you tell him his total and he pays for it, giving him his change and receipt. jason mouths a thank you and quickly goes to sit on one of the chairs by the window where you can still see him right in the corner of your eye, you catch him glancing at your direction while you made his coffee which is strange since he never did that.

jason on the other hand seems to be more fidgety, he figured he'd tell you the truth today after you get off of work but it's easier said than done as he's starting to think it was a bad idea. his frequent visits gave him the advantage to eventually learn about your schedule and today happens to be an early leave. he mentally hyped himself up, hunched over the chair with his elbows resting on both his thighs while he waited.

a few minutes passed by and you eventually finished making everything, putting the small plate and fork on a plate along with his drink as you brought it over to his table. you slightly crouched down to carefully place the plate in front of him followed by the drink and fork, jason waited til you were done and looked up to you. he notices the cut still there on the side of your cheek, seemingly in the healing process now. he cleared his throat and nudged his head toward you. "you alright? you got a slit right there" he started.

"hm? oh this. it's uh, it's nothing. i almost got mugged a few nights ago and had to hold up a pretty decent fight" you explained, clutching the tray near to your chest. "oh? well, did you win at least?" jason laid back into the chair, still looking up towards you to see if you'll mention about the 'hero' that saved you. "i guess in some way yeah, someone showed up and kicked some ass within seconds" you said, a smile slowly forming at the thought of red hood creeping your mind once again. "it's a shame i didn't get his name though, he seems like a nice guy"

"...who did you think it was?" jason started, a lump in his throat started forming the more the conversation went on. he waited for an answer, desperate to know what you think and what could be the reason why you did all that during that night. "i have no clue, but he had a red helmet and a pretty sick suit! i'm not a fan of vigilante but that dude's doing it for me. i wanted to ask him out but he looks out of it, he might've been tired so i don't blame him" a slight blush creeped into jason's cheek when he felt it heat up at what you said, he found it amusing that you were practically talking about him while having no idea at the same time.

"that's..that's great" he nodded along, clearing his throat once more as he focused on the food in front of him then back to you. "i uh, i also wanted to ask" your ears perked up at this, pursing your lips into a thin smile. "what time are you...getting off?" he finally says even if he already knew the answer. you were taken back by this, your brows raising at the sudden question. "oh uhm, probably in an hour or so. i have an early leave today so it might be even less than that" you started. "why'd you ask?"

"i..." his voice trailed off, he doesn't seem to get the words out without it sounding like he's asking you out— well, technically he is. "nothing, just curious that's all" he gave a stiff smile as he reached for his fork. "oh okay well, i'll be at the counter if you need me" you said with a smile as you walked away before one of your managers yell at you again for making unneccessary small talk.

jason waited until you went back before releasing a disappointed sigh at himself, he sets down the fork and covered his face with both of his hands— feeling embarrassed at how stupid he sounds asking the question and completely fumbling it over. 'you just had to fuck it up, did you?' he thought to himself. he's never gonna get this over with.

a few minutes passed by and you see jason finishing up his snack, the small plate of cake now left with smudges of frosting and small bits of crumbs and the cup of coffee almost emptied out. you were relieved that he liked the new menu item after months of eating the same thing, it might be the start of something new for him you think. although his question from earlier never left your mind, you tried searching for answers and it all came down to him possibly asking you out.

but why would he? he's way out of your league and he probably knows it, why would he lower his standards to a café worker when he could have anyone out there to go on dates with. was he messing with you or is he trying to give signals? it could explain why he always visited your café and not the famous ones in the city but still, you didn't wanna assume. maybe he's just trying to be friends.

you didn't even realize that jason was already standing on the other side of the counter while you were lost in your thoughts doing the dishes, you heard him call out to you which snapped you out of it. you turn to look behind and see him there with a sheepish smile. you quickly closed the faucet and wiped your hands off as you went up to him, "hey! what's up?"

"nothing, i just wanted to say i'm gonna get going. i still have a few things to catch up on back home" "oh that's fine! goodluck with whatever you're up to then" you cheered him on aa he slightly chuckled, the sound of hearing his laughter for the first time did something to you and you didn't know what it was that made it so attractive. "thanks, i'll see you around" jason finally says with a thin smile.

you waved goodbye and went back to what you're doing as you're trying to shake off the lingering feeling that you just felt, "and y/n" you heard him call out to you again. "make good use of the spray, that's a special advisory" jason said proudly, making his way out of the shop before you could even process what he said

"thank you! I'll ma— wait..." then it finally registered. "WHAT?!"

[adventuringblind]

Any chance you could do Lando x AUDHD (Autism&ADHD) reader?? Either just him or poly with Oscar, maybe Oscar try a keep them both in line??

The Responsible One

Landoscar x Reader

Summary: Oscar reflects back on the chaotic duo he has for partners

Warnings: none :)

Notes: Lando is ADHD coded... change my mind, I dare you. Also, a life update for you all! I know things have slowed down, but I am still writing! I've been working my ass off and getting ready to start my masters program, so life has been insane. Thank you all for the continued support! ❤️

Masterlist

It certainly wasn't anything new to Oscar, having to manage both Lando and their girlfriend. The chaos they bring with every footstep is insane, but he loves them both dearly.

One time, he found them deep in a conversation about the difference between chocolate and vanilla. Sometimes, he gets absoloute silence only to be interrupted by Lando's strange thoughts that he just needs to say.

Don't get him started on taking them anywhere out to eat. He hates anything to do with it because both of them have differening food sensory issues. It's a pain to get them to agree on anything.

His favorite moments are when both of them are incredibly clingy. It's like being suffocated with hugs, kisses, and cuddles. It's an amazing way to die if you ask him.

He once had to run around looking for them because neither was getting back to him. Turns out they were asleep on the floor together. Blankets tangled with their limbs. Rain sounds playing from somebody's phone. They looked so cute and peaceful, and Oscar does love to sleep. So the Australian joined them in their huddle on the floor.

Speaking of the floor: why are they both obsessed with it? He can't tell you exactly why, but they both love it. Floor time is an essential part of their day that Oscar has adapted to. When Kim started finding him on the floor, he laughed and said, "Oscar! They got you, too!" Apparently, Max also likes the floor because of them. Then Charles started because of Max. The domino effect her supposes.

The one thing he spends most of his time trying to figure out is volume. Specifically why Lando can be quite on second and not the next. It's a jump from word to word sometimes. Whereas the female is so random, he can't predict it. He wouldn't mind it, except for when they set each other off, and then she gets overstimulated. Lando feels so bad that he has to apologize at the end of every sentence for the rest of the day.

He spends many hours trying to soothe both of them. He knows, however, that's at the end, he will be treated to comfort food and a movie. Not because he needs it neccecarily, but because the other two do, and he gets to reap the benefits.

Humor and jokes with the two are his favorite. One of them is blunt, and she loves to tell people like it is. She has no filter really and is a deadpan like Oscar himself. The other can't lie to save his life but tries. He lacks a filter in such a strange way that really Oscar never knows what he's going to say. Oscar is constantly having to hold in his laughs.

They both talk his ear off about random information about the things they love, but he could listen to them all day. They get overstimulated and need breaks. But he's happy to provide a safe space. They cuddle and hug and cling to each other, but he basks in it.

They love him unconditionally, including him. They make him feel wanted.

And it doesn't matter him to him how many people ask him why, or how many tell him they are too chaotic. He could care less. He loves them because they are the definition of distraction walking around as humans.

They are his chaos. He doesn't mind being the responsible one if he gets to keep laying on the floor listening to their ramblings.

And what can he say? It's fun to watch them be brutally honest with people.

[oursecretways]

“Look at all those chickens’’

OT8 × Reader notes: ngl this all started with me seeing a chicken art on my feed and I realized I want a couple dozen now lol, so enjoy my first imagine/drabbles. Also, sorry it got so late by the time I have finished this, I will revisit to edit this and that is why it got shorter and shorter at the end 😭 (Forbidden feelings coming soon♡︎) word count: 598 warning(s): none just pure fluff

Chan:

He would just look at you dumbfounded: what are you two going to do with these chickens? He knows you didn't think it through, he isn't mad at you, secretly loves all of them and wants to buy at least the same amount so you can have little chicken pairs.

Already thinking about buying a farm far away from everyone where you can have goats and baby cows, maybe some horse and of course dogs and cats. Heck, he would even buy you a whole zoo just to make sure his little princess has all the animals she can possibly think of.

Minho:

He would tease you with feeding them to his kids, enjoying how your face scrunches up from the thought. Deep inside, he is intrigued by them, and slowly warming up to the idea of having a bunch of baby chicks.

He also says up until the AM to look for chicken coops and things he can build for them so they can play and have a comfortable place to stay. He is trying to be secretive about it to surprise you and to not blow up his cover.

Changbin:

He would literally hold back tears and show you all the pictures he has saved on his phone about baby farm animals. He is a softie and you always knew it.

He names all of them silly names and feeling quite happy about them until one poops on his floor… he might be in for a wild ride with figuring out how to potty-train chickens.

Hyunjin:

He already wants to make sketches of you and your kids, thinking about poses he could have you hold them so he can make sure he gives justice to your beauty. Feels overjoyed by this new milestone you two accomplished: having a dozen of little feathery kids.

Han:

For a solid minute, he laughs, not thinking you are being for real. Then, when he realized he was happy, he named all of them names like pip, peep, squeak, lil pip jr. and the list could go on and on.

After a week or so of having them, he started “teaching” them how to fly, making you watch it in horror. But let's face it, he is so clumsy he has dropped one or two of them accidentally when you weren't home.

Felix:

As soon as you opened the box, his eyes light up, living that Stardew fantasy with you. He makes lots of pictures of them, you with the chicks, and his own SKZOO. He sends the latter picture to the group chat with the boys, announcing that BbokAri somehow ended up being a father and that the mother left them. You just laughed at the soap opera he suddenly started to write about his own merch plushie, but you didn't stop him.

Seungmin:

You showed him while the others were there as well, bragging about your new-found family with Minnie. Everyone was over the moon about how adorable they were, except your boyfriend, who simply told Felix that he thinks they are his kids, delivering it with the stone-cold expression he mastered probably at birth.

I.N.:

He gets super excited, although finds it a bit silly. Said a joke along the lines of must've cheated with Felix's SKZOO, which earned a chuckle from you.

As he starts to play with them, one immediately pinches him with its beak making you forget about your kids and making sure that your boyfriend is okay, babying him just a little more.