#i have a backup from a few weeks ago that’s Fine

[songofsaraneth]

my 8 year old macbook just crashed and wouldnt restart and if recovery move doesn’t fix things i think i really will crawl into a cave and sleep for 10000 years fuck me

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

no WIPs or tag game snippets or etc from me for a bit because my main computers ssd crashed/failed this week so 🙃 rip

[ofbatsandballads]

Based on that little blurb you reblogged can I request the batfamily finding out that Jason has a girlfriend by him rummaging through the stuff in his pockets?

They're like dang dude what do you have in there? and it's all hair ties, lip stick, and a recipe for two 💕

-🍬

oh I love a good “Jason hides his lover from his family only for it to get revealed dramatically” fic and now thanks to you, nonnie, I get to write one!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include canon typical injuries, sibling violence, and slight hints at the batfam’s more traumatic interactions. this is mostly a good ol’ batfam fic, because reader is only alluded to, but I really like it. sorry I made it angsty for a sec there, I just can’t resist the Dynamics™️.

Jason should’ve known better. Really, he should’ve. Taking on Killer Croc alone? A fool’s mistake, but he was just too stubborn to say yes when Bruce asked if he’d like some backup. So now here he is, loopy in the Batcave after Waylon absolutely rocked his shit.

“‘S not even that bad,” he slurs.

The fact that he trips on his own feet and nearly faceplants before Bruce catches him says otherwise.

“Sure it’s not, Jaylad. Let’s get you to the medbay,” Bruce grumbles, worry creeping into that stone cold exterior.

“I’m fine, old man. Lemme jus’ go home,” Jason whines.

He’s met with a grunt that firmly negates his request.

“You can stay in your room tonight,” Bruce says.

“Not my home. Wanna go home,” Jason mumbles as he drops onto the medbay bed.

If Bruce’s face drops a bit, if guilt and sorrow flash across his eyes? Well, Jason’s too concussed to notice. Bruce just nods and begins to assess any other injuries Croc may have left on him. When he reaches for the collar of the Kevlar top, Jason flinches away from him so hard that he slams into the wall behind him. It’s only when Bruce realizes that he’d brushed his fingers against the scar on Jason’s neck that he understands why. His heart sinks and he can’t even look at his son. His shame doubles when he hears a trademark sigh of disappointment from behind him.

“C’mon, Littlewing. Let’s get all of this off you,” Dick says gently as he pushes past their father.

Jason doesn’t flinch when Dick starts to remove his gear. In fact, the presence of his older brother sets him at ease.

“I told ‘im I had it covered, Dickie. He didn’t fuckin’ listen,” Jason complains.

“Yeah, had it so covered you’re concussed in the family home?” Dick teases.

“What the fuck, Richard?” Jason groans before breaking out into giggles.

“How hard did Waylon hit him?” Dick jokingly asks Bruce.

“There’s no fractures, but the contusions are appearing rapidly. Jason’s lucky that’s all he got.”

Dick stares blankly at Bruce. He goes to open his mouth to retort that he was kidding, then decides it’s not worth his effort. Tim thinks it is, though.

“Wow, for a guy that’s chronically online for vigilante reasons, you still know nothing about the internet,” Tim laughs as he wanders into the medbay and flops down on the bed next to Jason’s.

Bruce ignores the teasing and catalogs all the injuries that are revealed to him as Dick strips away Jason’s tattered gear. There’s plenty of lacerations on his torso and likely some on his back. A few are deeper but nothing they’ll need to call Leslie for.

“Or maybe your jokes just aren’t funny, Timothy” Damian says haughtily as he sits himself next to Jason.

The thirteen-year-old tries to put on a mask of indifference, but it wavers when he spots the gash on the back of Jason’s right shoulder.

“Akhi, in what world did you think apprehending Waylon Jones alone would go well for you?” Damian scolds.

Jason narrows his seafoam eyes at Damian and lowers his voice.

“Ya really wanna talk about apprehending people alone, demon spawn?” he taunts lightly.

Damian’s eyes widen and he drops the subject because no, he actually does not want to talk about that on account of the fact that he tried to bring in Clayface alone two weeks ago and nearly got immortalized as a clay statue until Jason swooped in. The two of them had scrubbed his Robin suit within an inch of its life to try and hide the excursion from Bruce. It worked; only Alfred noticed the faint hint of clay in the threads of the cape and all he’d done was sigh and shake his head.

Jason’s gear is fully removed and his head is starting to clear a bit, wooziness replaced by a hammering pain in his temples. The headache masks any pain he would feel from the stitches being placed in his back, though he also suspects that those are less painful because Damian is doing them.

“Your technique is gettin’ better, y’know?” Jason whispers, the compliment unheard by the other three men bustling around the room.

The hands stitching him up freeze and he can imagine the look of surprise on Damian’s face even without turning around.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I think it will be useful for future endeavors.”

Jason smiles to himself. He knows the kid wants to be a doctor, and he thinks it’s a damn better fate for him than whatever Bruce or Ra’s could’ve planned. The silence that settles over the medbay is peaceful, only broken by the sound of clacking computer keys or the zipping of evidence bags. Then, like an unholy boom of thunder, comes the voice of Tim Drake.

“What the hell is all this?”

Jason’s head whips to the side and he sees Tim rummaging through the pockets of his tactical pants. He goes to scramble off the bed and feels the harsh pull of thread that was mid-stitch through his skin.

“Mind your fuckin’ business, replacement!” Jason shouts.

He grabs a pillow and chucks it at Tim’s head, but he just ducks and continues to empty Jason’s pockets. The contents that spill out on the sterile tray are…perplexing to say the least. Two lip balms (one tinted red), three scrunchies (one black and two red), a grocery list with the word strawberries and a woman’s name underlined, a recipe for chicken stir fry with enough for two portions, and one single soft chocolate chip cookie lay unexplained in the harsh white light of the medbay.

If looks could kill, Tim Drake would be dead and buried six feet under.

“What part of mind your fuckin’ business did you not get?” Jason growls, glaring daggers at the nineteen-year-old.

“Holy shit, he’s got a fucking girlfriend!” Tim exclaims.

The pillow hits him square in the face this time. All four sets of eyes turn to him with varying emotions. Shock is evident in the forest green of Damian’s gaze, smugness and vindication in the icy blue of Tim’s, panic and guilt in the ocean blue of Dick’s, and some weird mix of sadness and fondness in the gunmetal blue of Bruce’s eyes that Jason doesn’t want to think about for too long. The acrobat quickly moves across the room and sweeps all the belongings off the tray and back into the pockets of the tac pants. He grabs Jason’s gear from Tim and hands it back to its rightful owner, who clutches it to himself protectively.

“Don’t make assumptions, Tim,” Dick says. “Civilians leave stuff on us all the time.”

It’s true. They’ve all come home with someone’s forgotten work badge or piece of jewelry before. The oddest thing was when Bruce had a Hello Kitty keychain stuck to the end of his cape. Jason casts a subtle look of gratitude at Dick for trying to give him plausible deniability. Not that it works. Tim stares not at Dick, but through him with his pale eyes in a way that makes a chill run down the spine of the eldest son.

“You knew already? How?” Tim asks incredulously.

Really, he’s a bit miffed that he hadn’t figured this out already. He has contingency plan files on each member of his family (himself included) and he had not a clue that Jason might be in a relationship.

“Drop. It. Now.” Jason warns.

Tim doesn’t consider it until he sees Jason’s fingers twitching in the direction of the butterfly knife on his belt. He doesn’t need another scar from Jason shanking him. Well, at least not today.

“Fine. Whatever. But if I have to bring Bernard here for Thanksgiving, then you have to bring,” and he pauses to remember and recite the name on the grocery list, “home too.”

He knows he’s pushed it when Jason lunges at him, dragging Damian and a threaded suturing needle behind him. Tim barely jumps out of the way in time to avoid a punch to the jaw.

“Robin! Knock it off!” Bruce barks.

It’s almost comical the way all four of his boys freeze in place. It is slightly less comical the way they all proceed to glare at him.

“Fuck it,” Jason grumbles as he settles back on the bed for Damian to continue stitching his wounds. “Just get these done so I can go home.”

“Home to his girlfriend,” Tim murmurs.

“I will fuckin’ slash your throat again, you second-rate fuck!”

Bruce lets out one long suffering sigh. He doesn’t know you yet (a quiet part of him hopes he may one day be allowed to) but he already feels sorry that you’ve been roped into all of this. He feels even more sorry when the butterfly knife flies past his head and buries itself into the wall inches from Tim’s neck. Really, what is he going to do with these boys?

[panic-at-the-fiction]

A problem to work with

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a problem to work with. He’s annoying, snarky, hot headed and you don’t get along. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thoughts about how big his arms are, or how hot he is when he’s mad. No this is only about how difficultly annoying he is.

Warning: Tension, banter, eventual smut.

A/N: don’t we all still enjoy pretending it’s 2012 and all the avengers are happily alive and working and living together in the tower. Like I miss that! Let’s put Clint back in the vent and go back to the good old days.

There was a lot of things you loved about your job, ok well maybe there was a few things, but certainly, Bucky Barnes was not one of them.

“Wow, that’s a good look on you doll.” He smiled as you walked down the stairs of the hotel into the Lobby where he stood waiting for you.

“Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.”

Now one might assume with banter so playful the two of you might have something going on, but you don’t. This was just a mission, you were just playing the part, not to be mistaken for anything real between the two of you.

In fact, just a week ago the two of you couldn’t stand each other, it was Tony’s genius idea to set you two up on such a long close quarters mission.

“You have to be kidding me Tony, you know how annoying Barnes is. We’ll tear each other's heads off before we even make it to the gala.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah even I have to protest this Tony, I mean (y/n) and Buck in the field, no backup? Couldn’t we partner them with someone else?”

“We can’t rearrange all of our mission plans so that these two don’t have to interact with each other. You both are grown ass adults, suck it up and play nice.” He said with finality before leaving the room. Steve sighed and joined him out in the hallway.

You crossed your arms and looked over at Bucky as he reclined in his seat. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Thought I was annoying.”

“You are that's why I thought you would have something to say on the subject.”

He shook his head and clenched his jaw, and you felt your heart drop, damn him. “Tony’s right, we’re adults. You just gotta stop acting like a brat so we can work together.”

“Oh please, if this is anyone's problem to solve it’s yours. You’re the one who’s going to actually have to trust me on this mission if we’re to get anything done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’ll trust you, you play nice, I'll do the same. One week, let’s play professionals.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

And you both had played nice ever since. He greeted you with a smile when he picked you up the next morning, carried your bag into the hotel, he even started the mission by letting you run point. Of course, it felt like a trick at first but once you realized he was being serious you returned the favor, bought coffee for the two of you as you staked out the location of the gala, let him do all the talking with the host you gathered information from, and made the two of your dinner the night before the big event. That night felt the most real, things shifted.

You set down a plate of food and a cheap bear in front of Bucky as he poured over the blueprints on the table in your shared hotel room. “So the two guards will be posted by each door in uniform, but two guards in disguise as waiters will be standing by these two entrances.”

“Barnes, I know, we’ve gone over the plan three times tonight, we know the layout backwards and forwards. You can take a break.”

He sighed heavily as he rubbed at the tightness in his shoulders. You stared, watching his arms flex with the movement, the expression on his face altering the chemicals of your brain.

“Thanks (y/n),” he said, taking the plate you had set in front of him.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, reminding yourself what was important here. “Anytime Barnes.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me Barnes, what are you, my drill sergeant?” He laughed playfully. You hadn’t ever heard him laugh like that, his usual attitude toward you didn’t allow for that type of light heartiness.

“Oh, but don’t you just love when I bark orders at you.” You laughed while taking a sip of your drink.

“Who says I don't?” He gave you that 1940s smile you just know won so many girls over back in the day.

You tried not to choke as you looked away from him, hiding the heat that crawled up your neck. “Well, I guess I just figured Bucky was reserved for your friends, like Steve and Sam.”

“Are we not friends?”

You studied him, you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Are we?”

He leaned back in his chair, “do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

The room filled with silence as you both settled without an answer. Neither of you had an answer.

No, you would rather not be his friend, you didn’t think you could handle any more nice things coming from him. His smile made your stomach flip, and his proximity made your hair stand up, it was killing you the amount of alone time you were getting with him. But even worse the idea of it all being gone in 24 hrs and things going back to how they were made your chest hurt.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now, big day tomorrow.” You said excusing yourself from the table.

“Yeah” He sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

You paused at the door to your room before turning back for just a second. “Goodnight Bucky, get some sleep.” You smiled softly as you left him.

You didn’t run into Bucky much the next morning. He left a note saying he needed to double-check some things before getting ready for the gala tonight, but he promised to meet you in the lobby on time.

That leads you to now, standing in front of the mirror looking at the damn dress. Your heart pounded in your chest, you had forgotten about the dress. Originally intended for one of Tony’s galas that was canceled, you had never had a chance to wear this one. You had been excited to bring it along for the gala, but now it taunted you. It taunted you with its silkiness, its low cut, its backlessness.

All you could think was, would Bucky like it? It made you sick with nerves. This was not relevant. There was a high-profile target at tonight's gala, there were a weeks worth of snooping, and stake outs, and gathering information, months of research and tracking at stake here, but you were thinking of his hands on your back in that stupid dress if you were lucky enough to find an excuse to dance tonight.

You shut the thoughts out of your head and did your best to cool yourself down with some water to get your mind out of the gutter. This was just the two of you playing nice, being professional, this man despised you outside the walls of this hotel, outside of this mission.

You mentally slapped yourself as you got in the elevator heading down to the lobby, preparing yourself as you walked down the hotel's grand staircase.

You met Bucky's gaze from where he stood waiting for you at the bottom of the staircase. Damn he looked good. You could feel his eyes on you, every warning thought about the consequences of getting carried away leaving your brain. Was it getting hotter in here?

“Wow, that’s a good look on you doll.” He smiled playfully.

DAMN.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Well I have got to say Barnes, you clean up surprisingly well for a man of your age.”

He scoffed, “It’s called having some class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He offered you his arm as he walked you out to the car. “And besides what did I say about calling me Barnes. We’re not here for you to bark orders at me anymore, we’re here to play civil.”

You smirked as he opened your door for you. “Is that what you said? All I heard was that you like it when I boss you around.” You could hear him choke a little bit as he shut the passenger door before getting in on the drivers side.

“Now remember, we’re Mr. & Mrs. Laker, the rich real estate investors who just moved here from LA. We’ve been married 8 years now.” He said switching focus on getting to the gala.

“Kids?” You asked teasingly.

He smiled, “No, we're just waiting until things settle down with our work.”

“Aw I was hoping for a James jr.” He just shook his head. Your gaze shifted to his grip on the steering wheel where you almost lost yourself in THE thoughts again.

Damn get it together.

“Now you remember the layouts right.”

“Yes, I reviewed them this morning.”

“Good.”

He stopped as he pulled up in front of the venue you had scoped out just a few days prior. He put the car in park before walking around to your side opening the door for you and extending his hand for you to take. “Mrs. Laker.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laker.” You instinctively played your part and locked your arm in his.

“Here,” He tossed the car keys to the valley. “Not a scratch on it.” He added before leading you inside

As you entered the gorgeous high-class event waiters swarmed around you offering different champagnes, wines and finger foods, the room alive with rich people's conversations and music.

You smiled with your best rich lady smile as you let Bucky lead you around the party, choosing a table where you had a clear view of the event you set down grabbing a drink as you did so. You could feel your death grip on the glass as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the dance floor where a few couples swayed and not on the very handsome man beside you.

Bucky placed his hand gently on your thigh as he took the glass out of your hand. He leaned in his face close to your ear in a way that made your brain short circuit. “We’ll have a better chance of bumping into Lestrade if we don’t stay in one place.”

You swallowed hard, “What do you suggest?”

He pulled away so he could look in your eyes, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his lips. “How about a dance,” He paused, offering you his hand and making sure the surrounding others could hear him. “Sweetheart.”

“Of course dear.” You smiled, kicking yourself for forgetting it was all for the image of playing a married couple.

As you reached the dance floor his arm slipped around your waist, his hand on the small of your back causing you to stiffen. His metal hand gently held your right hand while your left hand rested on his bicep.

His steps were smooth with years of practice, his subtle pushes and pressure on your back letting you know where to step next.

“Now where did the soldier learn to dance?” You smiled as he shook his head.

“Like I said doll.” He licked his lips looking down at you with an ease in his eyes, you hadn’t seen before. “It's called class, they don’t teach it anymore.” He leaned in, pulling you to his chest so that he could whisper in your ear. “Trust me you won’t find anyone else who can do it like I do.” You could feel his smirk, “dancing that is.”

“Yeah, is that so Barnes? Show me your moves then.”

He didn't hesitate to spin you out and turn you around so that you swayed with your back to his chest. The heat pulling in your stomach where he now rests his metal hand over top of yours. You felt his lips on your ear. “Oh I’ve got plenty of moves.” You held in a sigh as you let yourself get swept up in the closeness.

“Lestrade, 10 o'clock, mingling at the drink table.” Your brain turned back on as your focused turned back to the mission, the song you had been dancing to fading out as it ended.

You pulled away from him, trailing off the dance floor. “You know sweetie, I think that dancing made me fairly thirsty. I need another drink.”

“Anything you want sweetheart.” He called as he followed suit.

It was going to be a long evening.

Part 2

[brinasheqrt]

Overthinking

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

wc - 1.7k

warnings - mild angst, spiralling(?)

You tell yourself it’s fine. That people get busy. That performers on international tours probably don’t have the time to FaceTime their girlfriends every day. Or even every other day.

But when it becomes seven days—seven—with no call, not even a half-asleep voice note or a badly typed “love u,” something shifts. And your brain, ever the dramatic little gremlin that it is, decides to do what it does best:

Panic.

You’re not mad. That would be easier, cleaner, safer. You’re something worse. You’re convinced she’s slipping away.

It starts subtly, in the quiet moments.

You look at your phone a little too often. Open your messages just to stare at the last one she sent—a red heart, a week ago, after her Madrid show. You imagine her typing it fast, distracted. Maybe half-smiling. Maybe not.

Then you check her Instagram.

Bad move. Always a bad move.

She looks radiant, of course. She always does. New post from Berlin: her on stage, glitter under her eyes, hand reaching toward a sea of lights. Caption: “thank u for making my dreams real.”

Nothing about missing home. Nothing about missing you.

And that’s when your mind kicks into high gear.

Maybe she’s grown out of this. Maybe you were a good in-between. A soft place to land before the next chapter started. You, with your overthinking and your silent panics and your inability to just chill.

You hate how quickly you spiral, but there’s no stopping it now.

You sink into the couch and stare at the wall like it might blink first. It doesn’t. It’s blank. Still. Just like your phone.

You start replaying every conversation from the last few weeks. Was she distant last time you talked? Did she rush off the call? Did she sound bored? Did she stop saying “I love you” with that softness in her voice?

You remember the last call. She was in bed, face barely lit by her phone screen, eyes heavy. She smiled at you. Said she missed your voice. Said she wished you were next to her.

But maybe she didn’t mean it. Maybe she was just tired and saying what she thought you wanted to hear. Maybe the tour, the crowd, the adrenaline—it’s all more alive than you are to her now.

You’re not fun. You don’t dance like her backup singers or laugh at the right moments in interviews. You’re just here, in a quiet apartment, too many time zones away, loving her like it’s a full-time job.

Maybe that’s too much.

Maybe she needs something lighter.

You lie down sideways on the couch, blanket wrapped around you like armor. Your stomach hurts. Your chest is tight in that way it gets when your feelings outgrow your body and start pressing against your ribs, like they’re trying to break out.

You tell yourself you’re being dramatic. But that doesn’t help.

You wonder if she’s met someone new. Someone who understands the chaos of tour life. Someone beautiful and magnetic and not lying on a couch somewhere, crying into a hoodie that smells like her perfume.

You try to text her. Delete it. Try again.

You settle on: “Hey. Hope tour’s going okay.”

But you don’t send it.

It feels weak. Or maybe you do.

You end up typing and deleting so many times that your fingers go numb.

Eventually, you just stare at the wall again. White. Quiet. Unchanging.

It’s weird how loud a blank space can be.

You think about your life.

About how you used to be fine before her. Not happy, necessarily, but stable. Safe in your routines. And now? She’s rewired your entire nervous system and you don’t even know if she remembers to miss you anymore.

You think about all the people who say, “If they love you, you’ll know.”

You did know. At first. Every call, every kiss, every sleepy “baby, I don’t wanna hang up yet.” It was so clear. You never had to ask. Never had to wonder.

But now?

Now you feel like a question she hasn’t answered in days.

The wall still doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

You fall asleep at some point—restless, dreamless, curled in on yourself like a bruise.

And then your phone buzzes.

It’s 2:17 a.m.

Unknown number.

Your heart stops. Then jumps.

Voicemail.

Sabrina.

Your fingers shake as you hit play.

“Hey. Hi. Um… okay. I suck.”

She laughs, breathless and soft. The kind of laugh that only comes after running or crying or both.

“I’ve been trying to call all day and it just… didn’t happen. We had back-to-back shows and the WiFi’s garbage and my voice is gone and I miss you so much I almost cried during soundcheck.”

A pause. A long, shaky inhale.

“I know what your brain’s probably doing right now. You’re spiraling, aren’t you?”

You exhale sharply. God. She knows you.

“I hate that I let it get to this point. I hate that I disappeared. I didn’t mean to. I just—I didn’t want to call you when I only had five minutes. I wanted to really talk. But five minutes became a day, and then the days stacked up, and now it’s been a week and you probably think I don’t care.”

Another pause. Softer this time.

“I care. I love you. I love you so much it’s actually ridiculous. I’ve been falling asleep thinking about your voice, your face, the way you roll your eyes when I leave dishes in the sink.”

You smile, tears burning behind your eyes.

“I haven’t stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I just forgot how loud silence can sound when someone’s waiting on the other end.”

Her voice cracks a little.

“Please don’t let your mind tell you you’re too much. You’re perfectly much. You’re my favorite overthinker. My favorite everything.”

She exhales. “Okay, I have to go. But I’m gonna call again tomorrow. For real. We’ll talk as long as you want. Or say nothing. Whatever you need. I just… I love you. So much.”

The message ends.

And you just sit there. Staring at your phone.

The wall’s still there. Still blank. But somehow, it feels less cruel now.

You wrap the blanket tighter, curl up on the couch again, and let yourself cry.

Not because you’re broken. Not because you’re panicking.

But because someone who loves you knows what your brain does, and calls anyway.

⸻

[olsenmyolsen]

Shooting A Music Video, Weed and The Dodgers

Part 44 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: 4.4K

masterlist

-

Tuesday August 2nd, 2022

Liz's POV

"Do you think if I mooned them, they would leave?"

One of my best friends, Clay, says as we sit outside a cafe with paparazzi down the street. I chuckle and shake my head. "As funny as that would be, I don't think my publicist would want pictures of your butt and my face circulating around."

I glare down the street at about three men with cameras looking our way.

Clay hums, disappointed. "I guess you're right. Damn you for being a movie star." I angle my head over to him and squint at him playfully through my sunglasses. He turns to me after a moment and sighs. "We can leave if you want?" I shake my head. "No, they'll just follow us, and I need this distraction. Sitting at the house alone was driving me crazy." I pick up my iced coffee and swirl it around.

"I still don't understand why you didn't just go with her," Clay says as he faces me more directly. I give a slight shrug. "I didn't want to bombard her." Clay rolls his eyes dramatically. "Oh, come on. If anyone wants you to be on her music video shoot, it would be Y/n! The star of it!" He stares at me. "So bullshit. Give me the real reason, Lizard."

Damnit. Clay always knows when I'm bullshitting.

"Fine." I groan as I lean in my seat and place my elbows on the outdoor table. "Lately...- okay, Y/n and have talked, but lately she's felt this pressure... you know from the label, her fans, friends, and family. Some of it's real. Some of it's not. But she still feels it and wants to do her best." I take off my baseball cap and run my hand through my hair as Clay nods along before I put the blue hat back on. "Did she ask you not to come?"

I stop at the question. "She didn't not ask me."

"Lizzie. What does that mean?!" Clay flops back against his seat with a groan. "It means she asked me to go with her weeks ago, but as the day of the shoot neared, she never brought it up. So I scheduled my lunch with you, and Y/n never asked me." I pick up my iced coffee and take a sip from the horrible paper straw.

Clay scoffs, sounding a little disappointed. "So not only was this lunch a backup plan, but the couple who does their best to talk about communication this and communication that... Can't talk to one another and say what they want?"

I sigh again. "Look, I just wanted it to be easier for her. Plus, with my sister Courtney directing the video, I didn't want to take away from both of their future successes." Clay nods at that. "Okay, I guess I can understand."

"And before you start, Y/n and I talked this morning. We're good like that. Well, actually, we did a little more than talk..." I look away as I sip my iced coffee again. "What does that- oh- ew! Lizzie!" I smirk and look back at him. "I had to help her find some way to relax this morning." Clay shakes his head. "You've gotten vulgar since Y/n."

I look at him with an amused expression.

"Okay, we both know that's not true..." Clay admits. "But still! I don't need to hear it anymore!" I laugh and lean back in my seat again. "Deal." I pause as I look over Clay. "So, still no luck finding the ring?" Clay shakes his head. "I mean, he says he wants to get married, and meanwhile, my finger is still bare." I laugh with Clay, but on the inside, I think about my conversations with Y/n as of late.

When will she do it?

Meanwhile, a little more north of the city with fifteen days until the release of her album, hex, aka Y/n, is wishing she would've asked- no begged Lizzie to be here.

Y/n, dressed in her brown boots, jeans with a matching jacket, and a t-shirt with her own album cover on it, walks a few steps closer to the edge of the cliff overlooking out into the Pacific as Courtney Olsen directs a camera operator to show the luscious green of the hill behind Y/n before Courtney gets pulled away to go over some last-minute details.

Y/n definitely wishes she had listened when Max suggested doing this in the desert. Palm Springs sounds nice this time of year. "Okay, and someone bring Joni to set." Y/n hears from a walkie-talkie as an assistant walks by.

Joni is the name of the song and the character of the girlfriend in the music video who breaks Hex's heart and repairs it.

(Always Joni by Trousdale)

Y/n was not involved in the hiring process. Liz kind of made sure of that... but the second Cailee Spaeny grabbed the old Polaroid camera she would be using on this music video shoot, Liz knew as pretty as she was, Cailee had to be hired.

Anyways, as Y/n looks back at the number of people on set, running around with equipment, lights, and walkies, she starts to get in her head. Once again, going over the breathing exercises her therapist, Sofia, taught her. But it's not helping.

And before anyone knows it, she's gone.

Approximately twenty minutes later, as Lizzie hugs Clay goodbye and walks him to his car, Courtney begins to call up her sister.

She's praying the older Olsen won't kill her. As the phone vibrates in her (the) row pouch, Liz picks it up and looks at the screen before smiling. Despite her relaxed demeanor with Clay, Liz has been dying to know how the shoot has been going.

So, as she walks to her black Prius, she answers the call.

"Hey, Court! How's it going? Have you started? On you on break?" I check the small leather-bound watch on my wrist. "No, actually, you guys should be filming right now? Is something wrong?" I ask that last question half-jokingly. However, the longer the pause is between Courtney and me, the larger the concern grows. "Court?" Courtney finally speaks up on the opposite end. "Hey, Lizzie..."

I'm not too fond of this tone. It's as if she's talking to me like I'm a kid who's about to find out our dog died.

"Court." I dryly state as I hop into my car and start it up. Immediately, the Bluetooth connects. "Courtney, what's wrong? Is it Y/n? Is she hurt?" I put my seatbelt on as quickly as I can as more worry starts to spread.

"No. No! Y/n isn't hurt at all."

I pause and take a breather. Closing my eyes for a split second. "Okay..." I let out some air. "So what's going on? What is wrong?" My hands find themselves on the steering wheel as I dart my green eyes around the road before safely pulling the car out from the street parking spot.

"So..." Courtney has another pause before clearing her throat. "We don't know where she is..." Instantly, my head whips to the small screen in the middle of her car as if I can see my sister. I open and close my mouth before finding my voice. Deep and firm. "What do you mean!?"

On the other side of the phone, Courtney is sitting isolated against a trailer. Her eyes closed as she gets ready for the wrath of her sweet sister. "I mean, she was here one second and gone the next."

"I swear to-" I pick up my phone and search through my apps, going to contacts and clicking on Y/n's name. My eyes flickering up and down from my phone to the road.

I know. I know I'm usually much safer than this.

At the same time, Courtney is rambling, spiraling if I had to guess. "We tried looking everywhere. No one saw where she went. All of my calls and texts are being ignored. I don't have her location, but you do! Trust me, Lizzie, I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened!"

It's quiet before I let out a huff on the other end of the call, making Courtney gulp. "Lizzie?" Courtney tries again.

"She's at a gas station," I say as I pull up the directions on the maps app to Y/n's last known location. "Oh my gosh? Really? Is it close to me?!" Courtney questions on the other end as a text of the address comes through. I glance at the map before turning my Prius around, making a car swerve around me and blaring its horn. I give them a small wave, ignoring the man throwing a fit as I look at the directions. "It looks like it might be." I can hear the relief from Courtney.

However, I won't feel comfortable until I have Y/n in my arms. She's been so worried and feeling the total weight of imposter syndrome as the album drop becomes closer and closer. So I won't stop at nothing to reassure her she belongs. Here and with me.

I exhaled another shaky breath as my knuckles turn white around the wheel. "God help me, Courtney if she is hurt or anything!"

"I know. I know!!" Courtney does her best to ease me as I hear her running on the other end. "I'm heading to the address. I'll probably get there before you." I nod. "Just make sure she's okay and text me. I'll be there as quick as I can." I say as I switch lanes. "And let me talk to her."

Courtney nods. "Okay. I'm really sorry, Lizzie. I don't know what happened."

Y/n POV

I stand at the checkout counter of a gas station as the cashier, Jul, rings me up. Yes, that's her actual name. Jul. They look me up and down before smiling. "You from out of town?" They ask, making me tilt my head ever so slightly and arch an eyebrow. "No. Not really."

They shrug.

"You just have a certain look to you." I look down at the clothes I'm supposed to wear for the music video. "Yeah, I guess I do..." I reply before looking up at Jul's brown eyes. She smirks at my red painted lips and hits a button on the register. "I'm just saying. Looks good on you."

Were they flirting with me?"

"Thanks," I say as I grab my phone out and use the Apple Pay feature before my girlfriend's face shows up calling me. Again. I rapidly declined it, grabbed my water, and walked out of the gas station before Jul could look at my face again.

The vans on my feet hit the grey asphalt of the lot as I started walking. No destination in mind.

Honestly, I'm too busy thinking about how much my little break is going to cost me. Will it cost me my music video? My music? My career? Will this be the night Bo calls me and tells me I'm done? I mean fuck will this be the hour that Robbie turns back up from whatever hole he's in and tells me how right he was?

I'm not sure...

But as I wipe my eyes, I find myself at a lookout—the ocean's blue in the distance. I sit on the safety rail and wait. Wait for my mind to come back? Or wait till someone finds me?

Once again, I'm not sure.

Some time passes before a van parking behind me breaks up my silence. I don't need to turn around to know who it is. The tires' screeching and the door slam give it away.

However, Courtney and the small team gathered don't approach me. They remain back, making me turn my head. A small mistake because the looks on their faces range from concerned to angry.

I've wasted their time. Money. Resources. I've made someone who cares so much about me worried on a day that should've been about them as well. Courtney. Directing her first music video. I ruined it. I don't even care when an operator holds a camera to me before I turn my head away again.

I can sense Courtney's need to come to my side and comfort me. She's an excellent friend and sister to Liz.

I'm about to finally get up when a car comes zooming into the lookout parking, taking up two spots instead of one. I watch as Liz's black Prius gets put into park before my girlfriend storms out of the car and to me. Her sunglasses flying off her face. "Y/n!" She yells as she places her hands on my arms and looks at my eyes.

She's the perfect mix of scary and soft.

Her hands move up and down before they reach my face. Holding me with gentle care. And at that moment, I see relief on her beautiful face. Her eyes relax as she looks to me. "You're okay." She whispers between us before lifting her lips and kissing me.

It's delicate and makes everything feel better before she lifts her hands away from me, only to push them directly into my chest, knocking my lips and body away from her. "What the hell is the matter with you!" She yells as I stumble back. "You had me worried sick! I drove like hell to get here! I ran a red light!" She uses her hand to point to her chest as she starts marching closer to me again. I love it when she talks with her hands... "I speeded and cut off a minivan! Do you know how bad of a driver you made me? I probably looked like a deranged driver!" She throws her hands up in frustration before they land on her LA Dodgers hat, overlapping one another.

I stare back at Liz. The anger on her face slowly morphs into her natural state before she takes one more step closer. Her green orbs roam my face before they stare into my eyes once more. She frowns and reaches an arm out to me before her side collides with mine, and her hand finds the middle of my back. Her face is against my shoulder as she looks at me.

Her gaze is mindful. She has questions but is letting the silence breathe. I look out from the ocean in the distance and down at my Olsen, and I can't help but let a smile form on my face. "I can not imagine you speeding anywhere," I say before clearing my throat.

Liz is not amused with my comment as she rolls her eyes and huffs. Her hand pushed against my chest. "It's not funny!"

"A little bit," I reply, causing her to push her body away from mine and face me. Her hair blowing in the wind from the nearby valley. Her eyes shining in the California sun. She stays locked onto me before shaking her head. The tiniest smile shows itself.

Making me smile more.

Unbeknownst to us, our conversation is being captured on the camera rolling behind us with the direction of Courtney as she, too, films on her phone.

"I should've asked you to come today," I say as I walk towards my Liz. She nods. "You should've." She says back with a bit of sass in her voice after the scare I gave her moments ago. But then she lets out a breath. "I should've come regardless."

I give her a flat smile as we look at one another.

"Communication/non-communication/miscommunication being our cliche troupe kinda sucks." I laugh, making Liz shake her head as she once again leans into me. "I thought you told me you stopped reading fan fiction." My laugh vibrates in my chest as Liz looks up at me. "I did, but they kept putting out more Y/n & Elizabeth Olsen ones."

"Who are they?" She asks. "The people doing the good work," I respond, knowing full well that I'm all about the Y/n & Natasha Romanoff Alternate AUs.

God, please don't ever have Lizzie look at my account.

"I love you," Liz says to me as she sighs. "I love you too," I say after clearing my throat. "Why here?" She asks after a minute. "I don't know..." I answer truthfully. "I just... I freaked out and started walking and..." I gesture towards where we are now. "I wasn't thinking." Liz nods ever so slightly as she listens to my words. "Why didn't you call me? Or talk to Courtney? Or anyone else?"

I swallow. "Because I didn't know..." I stop and think about my words. "Because I don't think I knew I needed space or time to just be in the moment." Liz looks at me as I explain. Her face one of love and care. "I've been so nonstop for a while now that I feel this- this weight on me. To keep going. To not screw up. This is me trying. Trying to make it and ensure no one else can see me..." My lips quiver as my genuine emotions start to bubble to the surface. Elizabeth's hands instantly hold my face as her thumbs rub my cheeks. "I'm worried... I don't want to fail."

Liz doesn't say a thing as she pulls me into a long, warm hug. Her hands wrap themselves over one another behind my back, keeping me locked in.

My tears subside as I sniffle and lift my face away from her body. When she looks at me, she smiles and coos slightly as she wipes my face. "Oh baby, your makeup." I can't help but chuckle before stopping her touches on my face.

"You won't fail," Liz says to me, and I nod. I know I won't. I know I've worked my ass off to be here. I've had people support me all the way. "It's just hard when this." I point to my brain. "Doesn't turn off all the way." Liz nods back, knowing that this will probably be a serious conversation again in the future. "I get it." She takes a hold of my hands and keeps her eyes on me. "But I'm here with you. Always."

"I know." I clear my throat once more. "I'm sorry for not calling you and making you worry."

Liz looks from me to the small crew behind me before looking back at me as I glance to see the group. "You can make it up to me later." I smile and nod to her words. "Of course," I reply.

Liz and I hold each other's side as we look out at the ocean and let the comfortable silence surround us before quiet footsteps make their way to us.

Its Courtney.

"Hey, guys..." We look over, and I see her sad but hopeful smile. My arm removes itself from Liz as I move to Courtney and wrap her into a hug. The headphones on her head colliding with my skull. "I'm sorry," I say, muffled into Courney's shoulder.

She immediately holds me as well and lets me know that it's alright.

Whether it was or not.

"I wish you would've talked to me." She says, making me nod and smile. "All you Olsen's are the same." Liz shakes her head behind me. "Trust me, we're not." Country laughs as well before scratching the back of her neck. "So I can understand if you want to shoot the music video on another day, but I-"

The word no flies from my mouth before I can stop it, making Courtney close her mouth and look at me. The Olsens taught that.

No means no.

"Look, I know..." I glimpse from Courtney to the small crew that came with her to help find me—speaking to everyone. "Look, I know what I did was dumb and irresponsible. I'm sorry for that. But I still want to shoot this. I still want to make something beautiful, and it won't be possible without any of you." My eyes glance at Court and Liz when I say those last words. "I just needed a moment." I chuckle awkwardly.

Courtney puts an arm around me and pats my back.

"I'm down. Plus, I'm still getting paid." Courtney looks to the crew. "And I still need a job." She smiles, making some of the other people standing in the grass with us smile and nod.

Liz comes up behind me and kisses my cheek. "I'm proud of you."

I look to my right. "I love you."

"I love you too." She replies, and before I know it, I'm giving a similar speech to the one I just made to the rest of the crew back at the original site.

To my surprise, everyone stays.

Even a few crew members made sure to stop by and let me know that I wasn't alone in my feelings and actions today. One of the PAs told me her sister left her future husband at the altar before finding the love of her life. She even showed me pictures of the lesbian couple.

And I know I might be biased, but I think I just filmed one of the greatest music videos of my life.

So far. Wink.

But what's even better is that as we were wrapping up for the night, as Liz was taking pictures and signing autographs for some crew members, Courtney pulled me aside. "I want you to take a look."

On the monitor in front of me was a rough cut of the footage for the video. I recognized a bit of it from a quick filming session we did at a studio last week. Other footage was from today, where Cailee Spaeny and I held each other and pretended to be ever so in love on a bed in the middle of the valley before scenes intercut with heartbreak played out. "It looks incredible, Courtney," I whisper, in awe of her direction and how she chose to move the camera around us. She looks at me and smiles. "Thank you. But keep watching." I look at her confused before looking closer at the monitor as the second half of the song kicks in and footage of Liz and I throughout our relationship shows up on screen.

Including today at the lookout.

"When you hired me for the job, you told me this song came from that point in your relationship with Lizzie when you didn't know the next step between you two." I nod along as I remember. "And then you saw her at the airport." I nod again and turn back to the screen as Courtney continues. "I just figured the song or video wouldn't benefit without the speckles of you and her... I can remove them if you want."

I look back to Courtney with my heart full of care and love that surrounds me. "I'll have to ask Li-" "She already signed off on it." I close my eyes and laugh as I wipe the corners. "Of course she did." I open my arms out to the dirty blonde and hug her. "Thank you. Again. For everything."

Courtney squeezes me before pulling away. "Can I ask you something? It's a little personal?" I tilt my head just a tad. "Sure." I drag out the word as Courtney usually blurts out whatever she wants to ask. "I know this isn't the first time you've... I don't want this to sound mean or judgy." I keep my eyes on her, asking her to keep going. "Have you spoken to a doctor or your therapist about your..." Courtney doesn't say another word as her voice dies in her throat, but I know what she is asking. "I have," I reply with a nod as the topic of panic attacks and knack for bolting hangs in the air.

Courtney nods back. "Okay. I didn't mean to sound rude or anything, Y/n, you know that." I nod to her and give her a reassuring smile. "I know." She gives me one back. "I just care a lot about you. And my sister."

"I appreciate it," I say. "I'm actively working on it." Courtney gives me another nod before looking back at the monitor. "So, is this good?" She points to the still of Liz and me laughing on the screen. "I can't wait to see it done." Courtney smiles and gives a little pump of her fist. "Ah! Yay!" She goes back to her old goofy self, leading me to laugh before she blurts out: "Maybe you guys can try smoking or gummies again."

"Well, I was not expecting to hear that," Liz says as she enters the small tent where we are. I laugh. Liz looks at each of us. "I'm just saying," Courtney replies, making Liz look to me. "I don't even want to know. Did you see the changes?" I nod and surprise Liz with a kiss, making Court gag.

Liz, without looking with her eyes closed and her lips on mine, hits her sister.

"I love the idea."

Liz smiles wide and scrunches her face at me, making me fall deeper in love with her.

"You know," I say as I pull Liz's baseball cap off of her and put it onto my head as we walk to Liz'z car, one of the last ones to leave for the day. "You still have yet to take me to a Dodgers game."

"Oh, and after my heart attack from today, I would be the one taking you?" Okay. Point Liz. 0-1. "You know..." I start up again and take the keys from Liz's hand. "I have yet to take you to a Dodgers game."

Liz blushes as I hold my arm around her. "You're right. That sounds like fun." She looks up at me. "They have a home game on Thursday."

"So it's a date?"

"It's a date."

After finally making it home and having an easy takeout meal, Liz talked to Clay, Aubrey, Kathyrn, and her friend and potential co-star Natasha Lyonne about Liz and I maybe becoming stoners again... Also, I say 'potential co-star' because it all depends on how much Liz and Co can get for funding for their movie they're looking to make. I've met Azazel before and, of course, love Sorry For Your Loss.So I'm hoping his project, His Three Daughters, sees the light of day.

Oh, where was I? Oh right.

After finally doing all that, Liz is in the shower as I lay in bed with my headache hat on. It works wonders for me but gives Liz a headache, which is strange. Don't you think?

I feel my phone buzz next to me. I lift the hat from over my eyelids and open my eyes as my left hand grabs my phone.

It's one text from Jess Parker: "The Ring is ready."

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, the Dodgers won the game I took Liz to. 5-3.

[allthingscons1dered]

Like Brothers

Batbros x batsibling!reader, hurt/(some)comfort. Reader is going through it.

warnings: canon typical violence, tons of angst, lots of self doubt. I think this is pretty gender neutral, I apologize if not.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been miserable. It had started with a particularly hard case you’d worked on involving Professor Pyg, and the victims he’d taken hostage. You had caught him in the act of dismantling one of them.

It would have made you physically ill, if there was time for it. Thankfully, your muscle memory took over and you took him down— hard.

Writing the report had been excruciating. You had seen a lot of gruesome and evil in this work. But this… it was stuck in your mind, replaying over and over.

You couldn’t sleep the first night. It was there, in every dark corner of your room and every time you closed your eyes. And if it wasn’t playing out in front of you, the screams were ringing in your ears with every second of silence.

So you trained and tired yourself out, thinking it would be the solution. It would never be so easy, of course. In fact, it was almost worse.

Because now you were sluggish and you had a much harder time occupying your mind with other thoughts. And when you finally drifted off, the nightmares plagued every moment of your slumber.

Sleeping no more than two hours a night was wearing you down. And now, after multiple weeks of this sick game, you were starting to make mistakes.

The first slip is not on patrol, but during school. You fall asleep in the middle of algebra. Which shouldn’t be a huge deal, right?

A classmate decides to take a picture and send it to the newspaper, suggesting issues in the home. And the next morning, you’re featured on the front page titled ‘Bruce Wayne: Unfit Parent?’.

The Wayne family has had its share of unflattering and false news headlines, so it’s truthfully more embarrassing than worrisome.

“That’s definitely not your angle, kiddo,” Jason says as he snags an apple from the bowl in front of you before stalking out of the kitchen.

Bruce ruffles your hair. “Try looking a bit more lively today, okay?”

You smile and duck your head, acting sheepish, but you’re overwhelmed. Having hoped you’d get over this nightmare situation by now.

Instead, you wake every night in tears or sweating bullets. The nightmares are always changing. Sometimes, you’re the one being captured. Other times, you’re forced to watch as your loved ones become disfigured, unable to aid them.

Patrol is the only time that you can clear your thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Until you engage too early, with not enough backup. Spoiler bails you out. She assures you that it’s no big thing, everyone has bad days.

You try to believe her.

The next mistake is made when you’re unfocused against Two-Face goons with Red Robin. They’re lousy fighters and yet, you misjudge a hit, sending you flying into the wall behind you.

It was a rookie mistake. And one you wish had happened without an audience.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tim asks as he hands you an ice pack for your split eyebrow. “You’re not seeing double or anything, right?”

You’re mad and embarrassed.

“I’m fine, Tim.”

His brow furrows. “You’ve been acting kind of strange lately,” he says.

You give him no answer, picking at your nail beds.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You narrow your eyes and grit your teeth. “I’m fine. It was just a bad day.”

He looks skeptical and eyes you blatantly. “You’ve been having a lot of those recently,” he starts, but you don’t let him continue.

“Whatever,” you snap, jumping down from the bed in the med bay. “You know, I don’t point out all of your missteps.”

You’re irritated, and more than that— you’re ashamed. Everyone in this family has witnessed something gruesome like you had a few weeks ago, and they continued on just fine. Why couldn’t you?

“Wait,” Tim stresses, voice filled with regret. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

A piece of your heart aches. You hardly ever fight with Tim. Though you may not be super close to him, you value his opinion. But now you’re suspicious of what he thinks of you. He’s obviously taken notice of your shortcomings.

You pace a few steps away from him, not quite looking at him as you toss over your shoulder, “I’m fine, Tim. Worry about yourself for once.”

He catches your arm with his hand, turning you around to face him. “Okay, now I know you’re not fine.”

You laugh, though you don’t know why. Nothing about this is funny to you. “Why do you care?” You ask, your words laced with irritation. “You never have before.”

Stop, you think to yourself. You’re clueless as to where this is even coming from. Have you always had these insecurities?

There’s hurt on his face, and it’s clear he’s trying to analyze your behavior so you rip your hand out of his grasp before he has the chance to.

“I’m just stressed about that stupid headline, Tim,” you lie easily, not giving away any of the usual body language while doing so. “So, drop it.”

You stalk off and hide in your room for the rest of the night, hating yourself for acting so stupid.

Tim didn’t hate. You knew that. Right?

The next night on patrol, you end up getting pistol whipped by one of Black Mask’s men. Your movements were too slow to block the strike— your body exhausted from the lack of sleep. Which lands you on the ground and seeing stars with a gun pressed against your temple.

Luckily, Red Hood was there to prevent the making of sidewalk art composed entirely of brain matter.

Your brain matter.

“Jesus,” he whistles low, hands tilting your head towards the streetlight to look at the purpling bruises on your cheekbone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take such an avoidable hit this hard.”

His comment burns you, even without intention. It’s a meaningless jab, one that’d you normally laugh at and return in good nature. Tonight is different.

“Yeah, he caught me off guard, I guess,” you dismiss him, shoving his hand away.

Jason rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Yeah, no shit. You’re lucky I was here tonight, or this would be an entirely different conversation.”

Shame claws through your chest, causing you to clench your jaw. You pull the hood of your cloak over your damp hair and grab your grappling hook, firing and swinging away before more can be said.

You don’t sleep that night, which is no surprise. The imprint of the cool barrel of the handgun has made a lasting impression on your mind. It’s a feeling you can’t shake, sending chills up your spine.

Even worse is the disappointment you’ve seen in everyone’s eyes recently. It leaves your skin crawling and your heart aching.

When you make your way to the Batcave the next evening, you find three of your brothers conversing around the mantle of the Batcomputer. Only Jason is suited up, but is maskless like the other two.

You briefly wonder where Bruce might be, before remembering that he’s on a JLA mission.

Damian is with Jon at the Kent Farm for the weekend, thankfully. You don’t think he’d let you live down one mistake after another.

The sound of your approach draws their attention to you, and each of them seems worried.

“Uh, hey guys,” you greet, a small awkward wave as you survey their body language. The smile on your lips is strained but you’re hoping it leaves a good impression nonetheless.

It doesn’t, of course.

Dick steps forward, the golden boy he is. “Hey, kiddo.” Kiddo, always ‘kiddo’ with him. “You seem a little run down recently. Everything alright?”

You could come clean and explain that you’ve been going weeks without proper sleep, earth shattering images haunting you around every corner. They might understand.

But then you look at the three of them and consider all that they’ve witnessed and lived through, and now you feel sick with shame.

How pathetic you are, for believing you’ve been having such a hard time when each of them has overcome major adversity.

So no, you’ll save yourself the embarrassment of admitting that you’re dealing with childish bad dreams.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laugh with a shrug. “I’m fine.”

You catch eyes with Tim and you realize he must’ve brought this conversation about.

Dick reaches out a hand, setting it on your shoulder. “You know you can talk to us, right?” His tone is gentle and it’s almost enough to break your resolve.

Almost.

“Why are you all convinced something is wrong with me?” Lie, your mind says. Lie until you believe it too. “I have a few bad days and suddenly, I’m not good enough for you.”

“Woah,” Jason raises a hand in defense. “No one said that, kid.”

“No,” you agree, stepping out of Dick’s grasp, “but you’re all thinking it.”

“This!” Tim raises a hand and points an accusatory finger at you, looking from Dick to Jason with his brows raised. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

A breath heaves from your lungs as you huff, face pulsing red with your embarrassment. “Oh, so you’re talking about me behind my back now?”

Tim levels you with an intense look. “I asked you what was wrong and you refused to tell me.”

“Because there’s nothing wrong,” you shout, your voice echoing throughout the cave. “God, why won’t you just believe me?”

You hate the way your voice cracks with the last statement. It’s obvious that you’re slipping.

“Hey,” Dick approaches you again, raising a hand placatingly, “Tim is just trying to help. We all are.”

Your fists are clenched, crescent-shaped marks digging into your palms. The air is so thick with tension that it is difficult to breathe.

“If you don’t tell us what’s going on, we’ll have no choice but to bench you.”

The speed at which you look up at Dick is breakneck. His jaw is set, eyebrows creased. Everything about him screams that he means business.

He’s dropped the ‘approachable-and-friendly-older-brother’ gig, branding himself the adult in the room.

“You can’t do that,” gasping, you thread your hands through your hair.

Dick folds his arms against his chest, raising his chin slightly. “I can,” he affirms, strong in his decision. “Bruce left me in charge and I know that he’d agree. You need to work through your issues before you can go back out on patrol.”

“That’s rich,” you snap, “coming from you of all people.”

Dick doesn’t take the bait of your harsh words. Continuing to stand solidly against you, he only raises his brows.

Tears come forth but they don’t fall from your eyes. You look at Jason and try to silently plead with him, but he seems just as content with this.

You tear your eyes away and trace them back to your eldest brother, looking him in the eyes. “Fine,” you concede, voice flat. You look back to Tim and glare. “I hope you’re happy.”

Confusion breaks across his face before fading into annoyance. “If it means you’re not out there being reckless— then yeah, I’m thrilled.”

You can’t control your eye roll as you scoff. “Whatever. How long is this prison sentence supposed to last, anyway?”

Dick tilts his head, something close to disappointment etched into his features. “This isn’t a punishment. You need time to decompress. Something is clearly bothering you.”

You blink at him. Whatever answer he’s searching for, you’re not giving it to him.

“Look, kid,” Jason stalks forward, his hands on his hips. “You can either save yourself the trouble and tell us now, or we’ll just wait you out. Your choice.”

“Why would I tell you guys anything?” You spit, your words setting the air around you ablaze. “You’ll only judge me even more than you already do.”

Jason shakes his head, denying it. “You know it isn’t like that.”

“Yeah,” Tim interjects. “When have we ever judged you?”

You sneer at him. “What do you think you’re doing right now, genius?”

“We’re trying to look out for you,” he snaps back, “like brothers.”

There’s a lump in your throat. And you can’t clear it. You face away from them, tears stinging your eyes. They were trying to help you and you couldn’t even let them in.

You shake your head, “You’ll be waiting awhile, then, because the only thing wrong with me is being suffocated by your constant worrying.”

The shock on their faces is evident as you take your leave, stomping up the stairs and into the manor. You regret your words, wishing that you had just come clean. It was clear that they cared about you, that maybe your insecurities were lying to you.

But what if they weren’t? What if they weren’t just insecurities?

“I know you’re angry with me,” Tim begins, following behind you down the hall toward your room— you had failed to notice his presence, “but we’re just worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

You stop at the door to your room but you don’t enter. Nor do you look at Tim.

“I hear you at night.”

That grabs your attention. Your eyes snap to him and his face is sympathetic, not judgemental. It’s worrisome, not hateful.

“What?” You ask, breathless.

“The nightmares,” he reiterates. “You aren’t able to sleep because of them.”

It’s not a question— you realize that he knows this to be true. It makes sense. He’s a detective, just like the rest of the family, but Tim is different.

He discovered the identities of both Batman and Nightwing, all on his own. Simply because he wanted to. And he obviously wanted to know what was causing you to behave this way.

“It started a few weeks ago,” you admit bashfully, voice barely above a whisper.

Tim frowns, brows lowered. “Professor Pyg.”

You nod, eyes vacant and unfocused. “All I can hear, when I close my eyes, are their screams. And then I think, ‘I could’ve gotten there faster.’”

A humorless laugh escapes your lips and your flies to cover your mouth, startled by it.

Tim reaches out, grabs your free hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You did the best that you could.”

Your somber eyes meet his, just before tugging your hand away. “And it still wasn’t enough.”

His expression falls as you slip away and into your room, hiding from the shadows of the manor and from the guilt you couldn’t possibly hope to outrun.

A/N: Sorry for, like, a crap ton of angst. Okay, I’m not sorry. It’s what I’m best at, unfortunately. Would yall be interested in a pt2?

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, April 13, 2025

This week has been a hundred years long. Apparently I posted the fourth Silent Hill 2 commentary only 5 days ago, and I am already—well, rewind. The fourth video and its recaps are up, plus an extra video and a sidebar post. It's our first foray into the Otherworld and it ends with me managing to get past Pyramid Head (one does not "defeat" Pyramid Head) in two tries. Also, a beautifully staged scene with Angela, kingfisher mythology, and moth math. 

Unfortunately: OBS has decided to hate me personally and it currently records my gameplay like we're in an earthquake—not the cinematics, mind you! The cinematics look fine!—and I don't know why and I don't know how to make it stop. I have a list of potential fixes I am basically at the end of, and I will now be looking into Free Easy Recording Software That Isn't OBS in hopes of moving on with my life. As such, I don't think there's any way I can get my own commentary recorded in time to stay in step with Ian's stream this week, so I'm just gonna do a writeup of a recording that only exists in my own head. I've wanted SO BAD to get to this part of the game (please refer to picture here), I have a lot to say about it, and I do have screenshots. I'm just gonna TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENS, I GUESS.  

ANYWAY HERE'S SOME LINKSPAM

Reblogs of interest

Tumblr may or may not go down for real this time:

"If Tumblr dies, where will you go?"

How to download a backup of your Tumblr

"dreamwidth makes me feel like a baby. did you guys use to blog like this" I'm still there, Gandalf. (I need to resume crossposting there, though.)

"Tumblr yes a place for investors money put money in Tumblr can trust Tumblr user for giveing good legiticmatecy."

-

To all who celebrate:

Happy Leland Melvin Day!

Happy National Unicorn Day!

Happy [Next] Bandcamp Friday is on May 2nd, 2025, on which the money you spend goes 100% to the artist.

-

No, for real, "Madison" as a girl's name basically does come from the movie Splash.

"there aren’t enough posts going around about the swedish cryptid known as the skvader which is a rabbit with pheasant wings and also a very good boy."

On believing (or not) in fairies, duendes, trolls, and ghosts

An unexpected amount of Gritty this week

"No copypasta has ever ruined my life as comprehensively as Hell Fuck Castle."

Pretty sure I've reblogged this before, and I'll probably reblog it again: "One thing most people don’t realize about Gazebos is how bloodthirsty they used to be until the 1930s or so."

"As a scribe I see fit to write down all my troubles"

"Introducing Margie! A cat-goose dragon based on this little fella from this medieval manuscript"

"May I gift you: pineapple dragon?"

For all the Animorphs fans

Stories of seeing Muppets as people

"the lichen knowledge iceberg i have constructed on request"

Wait... people don't have "an intact chronological memory of life prior to age 12"?

David Lynch sure had one.

"i like to call this fate Death 2. Death 2 is the scariest thing that can happen to a person."

"poob is gonna call you. now poob is just gonna call you."

This week, it was fuckenwimdy.

Two posts that start off deep and sad and end up deep and wholesome. 

Video

Babysitting but literal (it's cats, they'll be fine)

Irish Tesco worker nails church acoustics in work stairwell

“Binary Sunset” from Star Wars, also in a stairwell

"Truly, the world is a better place for having skilled people who are willing to use their skills in the pursuit of incredible silliness."

The sacred texts

I deem this post about celebrities getting all their clothes tailored to be a Sacred Text because it has stuck with me for a very long time.

An old favorite: a compilation of "[band] sounds like [hilarity]" posts.

"Roses are red, April is grey. But in a few weeks, it's gonna be..." 

Personal tag of the week

Videos my dog did not like, a tag I've never used before but two nickels, etc. 

[callmearcturus]

@vmprsm replied to your post “Raw MKV rip of Mission Impossible: Fallout:...”:

Theoretically, if one wanted their own copies of the MI movies safely on a hard drive....where would one go?

​I mean, there is a site where you can acquire a lot of movies via torrent. I tend to use (rot13) 1337k.gb and I got a heavily discounted Windscribe VPN subscription that I use on almost all of my devices.

But my thing is that... I want commentary reels and special features, and sometimes you'll download a movie but the fucking subtitles are either bad or they become desynced over time and I haaaaate it.

So I've been gathering bits and pieces over the past year to get a Plex system going in my house and it works like a fucking DREAM. But it requires some investment. If you just want to have a few local copies of your favorite movies, this is way overkill. But me, I am canceling all of my family's streaming services and pivoting to our Plex.

So what I have for actually getting the files:

I don't have this model but it's similar to this, a Pioneer External Blu-ray Reader. It sits on a little shelf and is connected to my PC by a USB cable. (I think I got mine for around 68 bucks so you can wait for a sale.)

I use MakeMKV which will rip the big honking raw files from a Blu-ray and leave them as matroshka (.mkv) files.

Because these raw files are ENORMOUS, I compress them in Handbrake. Handbrake is wildly powerful, can convert file formats and make them super small. I have my Handbrake set up special to dump all the non-English language subtitles and audio tracks to save space.

(SUPER BONUS TIP FOR HANDBRAKE: If you have a dedicated GPU, you can give Handbrake permission to use it, and it'll compress shit literally 10x faster, love it.)

At the moment, I am using a Western Digital portable 5TB external harddrive because it was one sale and I couldn't beat the price. Eventually, I want to upgrade to two 10TB HDDs so I can keep a full backup of everything I'm ripping. Because this is a bit of a time and energy commitment and I don't wanna lose all my progress here!

At first I was running Plex off my desktop PC and that worked totally fine, but my family hates having to touch my desktop to wake it up every time, so I very recently grabbed one of these guys:

This is a Beelink Mini PC S12 Pro. It is small enough to fit in my hand but it is a speedy little demon that runs Windows 11. (And eventually I am gonna use it to firewall out ads from our entire home network, I'm pumped for that project but ANYWAY.)

The upside of these mini boys is that instead of being a hefty workhorse like my main computer, this is small and has a low-power draw.

So I moved my Plex Media Server to the mini PC, plugged in my 5TB drive of movies, and now everyone in the house can easily stream anything I have added to the library.

This is what it looks like, if you're curious. Any device in the house that runs Plex and is signed in can select any movie or TV show I have and just watch it like it was Netflix or something.

A month ago, I has like.... 65 movies? Now I'm ripping a few and we're gonna break 100 soon.

"But Arc, where do you get so many blurays!"

My local library.

When I lived in Broward County, FL, I had an extravagantly wonderful library system. Tax dollars at fucking WORK, y'all. Now I live in Georgia and the library system is not nearly as good, but I have still gotten my hands on a frankly ridiculous amount of blurays. Every week I'm picking up 3 to 10 movies or shows, taking them home, making good copies, and returning them.

All of this is an investment and it is work. But as someone who built my computer, built my keyboard, cracked my 3DS and PS Vita-- this is fun to me! This is what I love to do. And through doing it, I've seen more movies in the past year than the last ten years put together.

So yeah, I can't recommend this to everyone, but if you wanna get out of your subscriptions and to just have high quality shit on demand, this is what I'm doing.

Cannot stress this enough tho, if this seems interesting to you: wait for sales. All the components here go on steep sale if you wait patiently. Take your time assembling the parts and keep in mind that shit is modular, you can upgrade parts later.

[bagopucks]

A. Matthews - Mean Words Hurt People

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): none! Just light angst.

—————————————

“Hudson just take the pills.”

“No!”

“Hudson please! They’ll help.”

“No! Go away! I can’t do it, I hate you!”

It had been an awfully stressful week. Auston and I were both feeling the irritability. With the second round knock out, I was patient. I assumed he might need time alone or with his team, and it was time I was willing to grant. What I hadn’t expected was for him to dive headfirst into the fire. I worried that we never got time to discuss it or that he never got time to cope with it, but at the same time I wondered if Auston coping was spending time planning our wedding and being a father to Auston. I always wanted to ask, but I never wanted to overstep my boundaries.

Until it came to hell week. Hudson’s allergies had been horrible. I worked overtime almost every night, and Auston was left with most of the work. It was bumpy, sure, but even if it had been myself and Hudson, I knew it still would have been bumpy. Hudson was tired and cranky, and stuffy and itchy and miserable. Auston was miserable navigating everything, trying to keep the kid happy, trying to make him take his pills, trying to find ways to entertain him. I felt horrible coming home each night, some worse than others. Some more peaceful than expected.

Some days Auston would be out cold on the couch, his clothes a mess, his hair pulled up, exhaustion laced in his furrowed brow. Other days I could hear the screaming and fussing from Hudson well before I even got up the front porch steps.

Hudson’s allergies and attitude couldn’t have come at a worse time. Halloween was around the corner and I had so many plans as to how I wanted to share it with Auston and Hudson. The last thing I wanted was for my miserable and moody kid to put those on the back burner. Especially because it was a chance to go out and have some family fun. Even if we hadn’t been the most stable of families recently.

I reminded Auston to be patient, but it was never really him that seemed ready to give up. Sure he got overworked, sure he was as miserable as Hudson, and as lost, but not once had he turned to me and told me he couldn’t do it. Until the night I came home to quite the tense scene. Auston sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Toys were everywhere, Hudson was nowhere. He looked a mess. He looked exhausted. And when he looked up at me and told me he needed a break, I couldn’t get mad. I understood. When Hudson had spells like these, I often found backup was the best way to handle it.

“Was it worse today?” I asked softly as I closed the door, assuming Hudson was asleep.

“I stopped asking myself that a while ago.”

“I’m really sorry, hun.” I sat down next to him on the couch, gentle as I rested my hand on his back.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” The tension in his voice was something foreign to me. Auston was usually so collected and relaxed.

“It’s just his allergies. He just doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so miserable, and why it won’t go away. Just give him time.”

“I really need a break.” A piece of me wanted to tell him parenthood is a full time job. But I couldn’t, because while I knew it was a full time job, I liked my vacation days. And the perfect babysitter came in the form of my mother.

“Maybe Hudson needs a few days with grandma.”

“You think?” I pulled back at the tension in his tone. “I’m sorry.” Auston was quick to apologize, running his hands through his hair and sitting back. When I finally got a good look at his face, I raised a brow. There was more than just exhaustion in his features.

“Did Hudson say something to you?”

“What?” I watched Auston’s deep brown eyes meet my own. “No.”

“Aus. Did something happen?” I quickly placed my hand on his thigh.

“No. Okay? It’s fine. I just- I’d like to go home… alone- to sleep in my bed. With my dog.”

“Okay… okay if that’s what you need. Auston, just- I’m here for you. Okay?”

Auston stood up, and I watched him walk toward the door. For reasons I didn’t understand, he was more than overworked. He didn’t seem interested in sharing, but I assumed a full night of rest would help. “Drive safe, okay?” I watched him nod as he put his shoes on, and I locked the door behind him after he left. I hoped to delve deeper into the issue when Hudson awoke in the morning.

“Hey sweetie.” I spoke from the stovetop, cooking a few eggs for Hudson to eat for breakfast. I watched the boy peek around the kitchen and dining area before he padded off into the living room. When he returned, he came to my side and hugged my leg. “Sleep well?”

“Okay.” His distant and somber tone made me sigh. Both of my boys were anything but happy. It hurt knowing I could do nothing to help either.

“We have to talk, okay?” I watched his big eyes shoot up to my own. I wondered if he already knew what was on my mind. “Go sit. I’ll bring your plate over.” And I did just that. Once I finished cooking the eggs, I put them on a small plate and grabbed a fork, carrying the items over to set them down on the table. I pulled my chair out across from Hudson. The lack of Auston at our table was oddly unsettling. We’d both grown used to his presence in the mornings.

“Auston‘s really stressed.” The mention of the man lost my son’s interest. His eyes didn’t lift from his plate. “You’re not making things easy, hun. And I understand your allergies are killing you, but that doesn’t give you any right to be difficult or mean.”

Hudson dropped his fork on his plate, looking down at his lap.

“Have you been mean?” I leaned forward slightly, listening in the silence. Listening until I heard a quiet sniff. “Hudson?”

“I didn’t mean it.” His broken tone made me raise a brow.

“Honey, what didn’t you mean?”

“Did I make him leave? I didn’t want him to leave. Is it my fault?” His questions made me shoot up from my chair to cross the table, kneeling on the floor by Hudson.

“Honey.” I spoke in a stern yet soothing tone, reaching upwards to cup his tear stained cheeks. “Hudson you could never scare Auston off. He loves you.” I cooed.

“I’m so sorry, momma… I didn’t mean it!” Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, mistakes had been made, and i finally understood the issue. An issue I never should have left Auston alone with. “I don’t really hate him… I didn’t mean it.”

“Hudson, why would you say that?”

“I didn’t mean it, momma.” His quiet cries turned into sobs.

“Shhh.. okay honey.” I rubbed my son’s head, my heart hurting for both Auston and Hudson. They both needed comfort I wish I could have provided sooner.

“I don’t hate him.” Hudson whispered in a broken tone.

“I bet Auston would like to know that.”

“Not if he’s mad at me.” I shook my head.

“He still loves you, honey.” I wiped his tears one last time. “You just need to apologize.”

From day one, Auston’s mind had been plagued with worries. What if he wasn’t good enough? Or what if he couldn’t be a good father? What if he wasn’t cut out for all the responsibilities, or he couldn’t be a good role model? He never actually prepared himself for the day the kid he’d worked so hard to earn the favor of, would say he hated him. Auston had been floored when Hudson screamed it across the house. It was worse than any pain he’d ever felt before. It was the last thing he’d wanted. And he didn’t know how to tell me. I couldn’t blame him. Because it was a situation I didn’t actually understand. When I turned up with Hudson on his doorstep, a piece of me didn’t expect him to be home, but sure enough, Auston had opened the door just minutes after knocking. Felix stood at his feet, clearly oblivious to the situation, panting excitedly at the sight of Hudson. His best friend.

“Hey Aus.” I flashed the man a tender smile. Auston breathed a sigh that made his shoulders droop.

“Hey.. is everything okay?” Auston opened the door wider, an invite inside. I hesitantly stepped into the home, resting a hand on Auston’s hip and pressing a quick kiss to his chest.

“I came to check on you.. Hudson did too.”

“I was uh.. Felix needs to go on a walk.”

“Let me handle it.” I slid past Auston to grab the dog’s leash, calling Felix and kneeling to get him hooked up. “I’ll be back soon.”

I had faith in my boys making up. Despite the fact that Auston wasn’t Hudson’s father yet, I still knew that they had the ability to talk about their emotions and communicate well. They had never fought before… but I had faith they could apologize and move on.

“Mom,” Hudson called for me softly.

“I’ll be back soon, honey. I promise you’ll be okay.” I pressed a kiss to my son’s head before patting his back, and gently pushing him inside. “Fifteen minutes max. That’s how long I’ll be gone.” I reassured both boys before stepping out the door. Auston hesitated before shutting it behind me.

Was I worried? Sure. But again, I knew they’d be fine.

Auston shuffled his feet nervously for a moment before glancing back down the hallway. “You thirsty, bud?” He asked Hudson, the two making eye contact for the first time since their fight.

“A little.” Neither knew how to begin the conversation, so instead, Hudson and Auston walked down the hall and fetched two glasses of water, before settling in the living room on the couch.

“Your mom wants us to talk.. doesn’t she?” Auston took initiative, holding the cold glass of water between his hands.

“Yeah.” Hudson nodded, eyes examining his own water like a science experiment.

“I’m sorry your allergies have been so bad.” Auston slid a bit closer. “I know that stuff sucks. And I wish I could have been a better help.”

“Mom said we’re gonna see a doctor next week.” He paused. “She said they’re gonna give me something that should work better than the pills.”

“Hudson I was only trying to help.” Auston could barely handle dancing around the subject, so he decided to face it head on.

“I know.” Hudson’s little voice quivered.

“There’s nicer ways to treat the people trying to help you. And I understand if you had frustrations. It’s okay to have those, but there’s better way to communicate frustration than insults. Mean words hurt people.”

“I’m sorry,” Hudson whispered, peeking up at Auston, guilt in his sad features. “I don’t hate you.” The words took a huge weight off the shoulders of both boys. Auston let out a shaky sigh, and Hudson felt far less guilty than before. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.. Hudson it’s okay.” Auston set his glass of water down, reaching for Hudson, who slowly got up and climbed into his lap. Auston rubbed Hudson’s back while the boy sat with him, a mutual understanding between them that there was still love shared. Their relationship remained strong despite what had happened.

“You’re not mad?” Hudson pulled his head from Auston’s shoulder to look at the man.

“Nobody’s perfect, Hudsy. You’ll learn that as you grow up.. and you’ll make other mistakes. Just like I will. And that’s okay. It’s important that people have patience with one another… I’m not mad. I love you so much. Just do me a favor and try to communicate a little better in the future when you’re upset, okay?”

“You’ll help me.. right?”

“Absolutely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[firewasabeast]

In This My Weakness

Summary: A week before the wedding, Buck gets a devastating call that his parents won't be coming.

read below or on ao3. I'm thinking of making a part two as well, but this fic can be read alone.

Tommy could tell something was wrong before Buck even hung up the phone. His smile had all but disappeared and the gleam that was usually always in his eyes was now replaced by a cloud of darkness.

Tommy's arm instinctually reached out to rest on the back of the couch, giving Buck the perfect spot to fall into. “What's wrong?” he asked, Buck gripping his phone tightly, staring down at it.

“They're uh- they're not coming,” Buck answered, his voice cracking.

Tommy was confused. He hadn't actually heard the phone call. Buck had been in the kitchen of their new place when he answered, then quickly stepped outside. Tommy had only been reading his facial expressions through the glass door.

“Who's not coming where?” he asked slowly.

Buck sighed. He bit the bottom of his lip before responding. Tommy knew that was something he'd do when he was trying not to let his emotions take over. “Mom and dad,” he replied, “to the wedding. They're not- um, they're not coming to the wedding.”

“What?!” Tommy turned to better face Buck on the couch. “What do you mean they're not coming to the wedding, Evan?”

Buck shrugged. Tommy knew he was barely holding it together, trying to play it down, make it seem like it didn't bother him as much as it really did. But, at least to Tommy, Buck was a terrible liar.

“Evan, honey, speak to me, please. Why aren't your parents coming to our wedding?”

Another shrug, but Buck looked away from his phone this time. He glanced over at Tommy, who could now see the redness in his eyes. He was fighting to keep the tears away.

“They, um, th- they said they had planned a cruise like a year ago and forgot until now, apparently.”

Tommy ran his hands through his hair, eyes wide, feeling more confused now than before. “I'm sorry, what? Evan, that doesn't make any sense.”

“I guess they didn't get insurance for the cruise, so if they cancel they don't get their money back, and they completely forgot until they got a reminder email this morning.” Buck shook his head and let out a laugh. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised.”

“No, you should very much be surprised. They can't get money back for a cruise so they cancel on their son's wedding? This doesn't make any sense. Should I call them? I'll call them.”

As Tommy went to reach for his phone, Buck laid a hand over his, stopping him. “No, Tommy, don't. I- I really appreciate it, but it's fine. Really. I'm fine.”

Buck patted Tommy's hand, then got up and started making his way back into the kitchen. He had been in the middle of cleaning some things up when he got the call, so he needed to go finish that.

Except, at least to Tommy, the conversation was very far from over. So he got up as well and followed Buck.

“I just don't get it,” he said. “Can they switch dates? I've had to do that for trips before.”

“I asked that. But whatever cruise they're going on doesn't go back to those same places for a few months, or something... I don't know. The answer was no, though.”

“What all did they say? I feel like I'm getting a third of the story here.”

“They said what I told you. Can't make it, have a cruise, no refunds, send their love... and a blender, I guess.”

“We already have two blenders.”

“And now we'll have a backup for our backup.” Since they got into the kitchen, Buck had been avoiding eye contact. He was keeping busy, moving dishes from the drain to their spots in the cabinet, clanging silverware together as he tossed them into a drawer, and even moving spices from their usual spots on the spice rack to new spots.

“Well, should we- should we change our date then?” Tommy asked. Yes, they both wanted to get married on the anniversary of the day they first met but, if they needed to adjust for the Buckley's, they would.

The question stopped Buck in his tracks. Still turned away from Tommy, he lowered his hands to rest them on the counter. “We're not changing our date.”

“Evan.”

“No,” he doubled down, firmer this time. “We're not changing our dates. If they can't make an effort to show up, then they just won't be there.”

Now Tommy was starting to get somewhere. Sometimes it took a minute, but Buck would always eventually let his true feelings out.

“If you're sure.”

“I am.” Buck finally turned to face Tommy. He wiped at his eyes, letting out a humorless laugh. “I really thought we were getting somewhere, you know? I thought... I thought they cared.”

“Ev, I think they care, they just-”

“Prioritize a cruise over our marriage.” Buck finished.

“We could Facetime them,” Tommy offered weakly.

Buck shook his head. “No, if they- if they can't show up they don't need to be there at all.” He wiped at his eyes again, but this time the tears couldn't be held back. He felt like a little kid again, his lip trembling, head down, trying to quiet his sobs so his parents couldn't hear him.

But his parents weren't there this time; Tommy was. He was there, and he was wrapping Buck up in a hug before Buck even realized he had crossed the room.

He held on tight, clutching the back of Tommy's shirt. His shoulders shook with the force of his cries, but Tommy held on.

He always held on. His strength, both mentally and physically, kept Buck upright during his toughest moments.

Buck did the same for Tommy too. That's why this relationship worked so perfectly. They didn't go fifty-fifty here; they both gave one hundred percent of themselves.

“I re- really wanted them th- there,” he managed to get out through little breaths.

“I know, I know,” Tommy soothed, running a hand up and down Buck's back.

“They were s- supposed to walk me down the a- aisle.” He pulled back from Tommy just enough to look up at him. “Oh God, what are we gonna do about that?”

“Hey, hey, don't worry about it,” Tommy said, bringing his hand up to Buck's face. He used his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from his cheeks. “We'll figure something out. We don't have to do the walking down the aisle, or my mom can walk us both, or we'll walk together, or-” he paused, “or you could ask Bobby and Athena.”

Buck sucked in another breath, contemplating the idea. “That's- You think they'd do that?”

Tommy smiled softly. “Of course they would. They wouldn't hesitate for a second.”

“Bobby's already doing the ceremony though.”

Tommy shrugged. “Doing things a little differently than normal is the Buckley way, isn't it?”

Buck managed a shaky laugh. “The Buckley-Kinard way now. Sorry you're stuck with me.”

Tommy shook his head. “I'm not.” He placed two fingers under Buck's chin, just like the night he first kissed Evan. The night he tried to play it cool, all while his heart was racing and mind filled with a million different thoughts. He kissed him softly, slowly. He could feel Buck's body relax, some of the weight from the last few minutes falling away.

“I love you, Evan.”

Buck reached up, running his hand through the back of Tommy's hair. There were a lot of people that told Buck they loved him. Some, he believed, others... not so much. But there was one person who he believed it every single time, and he was gonna marry that man in a week, no matter who was or wasn't there.

“I love you too.”

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Linzin drabble. I know I said I was back..then I wasn't. Haven't updated in a while so trying to write short ones first before delving back. Hope there are still Linzin readers out there~. Stay safe all.

------

Lin sucked in her breath as the sting of the antiseptic bit through her wound. She dabbed a few more times before wrapping the bandage tightly. It would be infinitely better if she had gone to the nearby hospital. On the other hand, she was not in the mood to be gawked at.

The sun had set and Republic City, while still chaotic, was safe from Equalists at last. Not that she had any hand in this. Lin exhaled as she gingerly moved to put the first aid kit back into the cabinet.

Once she was rescued from the makeshift jail that Amon had placed her in, Saikhan sought her out and asked for a subordinate to bring her to the nearest medical facility. He also spoke about turning over authority to her once she was up to it. She declined and scoffed. A non-bender leading the metalbending police was both impractical and ludicrous. Hence, she made an escape to go home as soon as Saikhan and the officer were distracted.

Lin knew Bumi and his fleet had arrived as the backup that Iroh had requested. She did not want to see them in this state; she wanted to make herself scarce. She had not yet fully come to terms with what she had endured. She hated this feeling. It was like something was pulled out of her soul and all that was left was a hollowness that she could not describe. And that was on top of the actual physical pain.

Said pain made itself aware, and Lin winced as she made her way to her couch, finding that going to her bedroom required energy she did not have.

Lin closed her eyes as she leaned back, angling for a comfortable position. If the rumors were to be believed, the Avatar was also victimized by Amon, albeit she had released her airbending. You win some, you lose some.

"Lin?" A familiar voice broke her reverie.

Her eyes opened wide and she swore. "What the—"

Tenzin caught her in a hug and she shouted in pain as she shoved him.

"Sorry, sorry!" He apologized quickly, palms up in surrender.

"What on earth? Why are you here? How did you even here in?" Lin bombarded the airbender with questions as he stood in the middle of her living room, a place he had not set foot in more than a decade.

He sheepishly brought up a key.

"You idiot! Why did you keep that key?" She recognized the house key she had given him years ago.

"For emergencies like this. You're obviously not fine, but thank Agni you're alive, Lin," Tenzin quickly placed his hands (and key) in his pockets.

Lin waved him off. "What are you even doing here? I would expect that you would be busy with your family and the Air Nation."

His eyes went narrow with concern. "The last I saw you, you were jumping off the airship for my family. I never knew for sure what happened after. But now I see it's true, isn't it?"

Lin shrugged, avoiding what he was asking. "What's true?"

"You didn't sense me from earlier. What did Amon do to you?"

She looked away from his scrutiny. "Nothing I can't handle."

"You don't have to handle it alone."

"Can you even hear yourself? I don't need your pity."

"This isn't pity."

"Look. I'm just tired. In case you missed the memo, it's been a long week with me losing my job and my bending..."

"Come with me to Air Temple Island."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I could look after you better there."

"No. You've got your hands full with the Avatar."

"We're going to the South Pole. Mother can—"

"No, Tenzin. It's over for me."

The finality in Lin's voice worried the airbender. "Mother would—," He tried again.

"I'll be fine. I promise I'll take myself to the doctor. But for now..." Lin's voice faltered, the painkillers she took earlier started to take effect.

"You have to eat."

"I'll eat later. Just go and leave your key here. I should have taken that away from you years ago." Her eyes felt heavy and they drooped closed.

Tenzin looked around. The unit looked both familiar and alien to him. He went around preparing for Lin, checking her medicine cabinet and finding some food. He would ensure she was cared for, even if from a distance.

As Lin slept, the moonlight cast long shadows across her apartment. Tenzin moved with quiet efficiency, familiar with the space yet deeply aware of how much had changed. He found some vegetables in the fridge and started to prepare a simple soup, hoping she would at least take a few sips when she woke up.

He could not help but think back to their younger days, how fierce and unstoppable Lin had always been. Seeing her like this—wounded, exhausted, and stripped of her bending—was a gut punch. It was clear she needed help, but Lin being Lin, would resist it at every turn.

He set about making Lin's apartment a little more comfortable. He found some spare blankets and made up the couch into a cozy bed. He placed a glass of water and some pain relief medicine within Lin's reach.

Just as he was finishing up, Lin stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she took in the sight of Tenzin still in her home.

“I told you to leave,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep and pain.

“I'm just making sure you’re okay,” Tenzin said softly.

Lin huffed but didn’t have the energy to argue. She attempted to sit up, grimacing as pain flared in her side.

“Here,” Tenzin said, moving to help her. “Eat something. You need your strength.”

She reluctantly accepted the bowl of soup, taking small sips. The warmth of the broth seemed to ease some of the tension in her body.

“What’s the plan now?” she asked, her voice gaining a bit more strength.

“Bumi is organizing the cleanup in the city,” Tenzin replied. “The Equalists may be down, but there’s still a lot of work to do.”

“And the Avatar?”

“Korra’s regaining her strength. She’s been through a lot too.”

Lin nodded, taking in the information. “I need to get back out there. I can’t sit around while everyone else is working to keep the city in order.”

Tenzin placed a hand on her shoulder. “You will, Lin. But first, you need to heal.”

She looked at him, a mixture of frustration and gratitude in her eyes. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said softly, helping her settle into her couch and taking the soup bowl back.

Lin sighed, a deep weariness settling over her. “Just for tonight, I’ll rest. But tomorrow, I’m getting back out there.”

Tenzin smiled gently. “That’s all I ask.” He knew that Lin's quick acquiesence was largely due to both the medicine and the pain she was in.

He wanted to tell her she was not alone. But that left a bitter taste in his mouth. After all, he did leave her alone for several years. She might not readily believe him this time.

Tenzin watched Lin's restless sleep. Regret washed over him. The memories of their time together resurfaced, each moment tinged with joy and eventual heartache. Breaking up with Lin had seemed the right thing to do for both their futures, but now, standing in her apartment, it felt more like a mistake.

Morning light began to creep into the room. Lin stirred again, her eyes fluttering open, meeting Tenzin's worried gaze. "You're still here?" she murmured, her voice groggy.

He nodded. "Couldn't leave you like this."

Lin attempted to sit up, grimacing as pain shot through her side. "You look like you haven't slept at all."

"Didn't feel right to sleep while you were in pain," Tenzin admitted. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"Bits and pieces," Lin replied, her voice stronger now. "You made more soup?"

Tenzin handed her the bowl, watching as she took careful sips. "I wanted to do something, anything, to help."

Lin's eyes softened slightly. "I never thought I'd see the day you'd play nurse."

"Desperate times," he said with a small smile. "Lin, I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm sorry. For everything. For leaving you, for not being there when you needed me."

Lin looked away, her jaw tightening. "What's done is done, Tenzin."

"But it doesn't have to be," Tenzin said, stepping closer. "We can start again. Not as what we were, but as what we can be now."

Lin's silence was heavy.

"Don't you think we can move forward?" Tenzin pressed.

Lin sighed, her expression hardening. "No, Tenzin. We can't. Too much has happened. You can't just walk back into my life and expect things to be the same."

Tenzin's heart sank. "I know I've hurt you, Lin. But I want to make it right. I want to be there for you."

"You weren't there when it mattered," Lin retorted sharply. "And now, you can't just erase the past with a few words."

"Then what can I do?" Tenzin asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

Lin's eyes softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. "You can start by respecting my space. I'm not ready to forgive, and I don't know if I ever will be."

Tenzin nodded slowly, accepting her words. "I'll respect that. But I'll still be here if you ever change your mind."

Lin looked away, a mixture of emotions flickering across her face. "Just leave the key and go, Tenzin."

[messedupfan]

Chapter 3

Summary: Wanda gets help watching the boys from her mom. Y/n walks into a surprise when helping your friend.

A/N: Hello! Hope all is well and as always, enjoy! ALSO SPEAK NOW TV IS OUT!!! jhgefhjeghjgfe

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Stories Taglist

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

Summers made working from home the most difficult. Wanda could hardly concentrate on her work before one of her boys started complaining about being hungry or getting bored or asking to go to a friend's house, etc. She sometimes wishes that she could have sent them to a camp but Vision was against it because he wanted them at his house during his weeks since he had the time off as well. She knows that she would have missed them terribly as well which is why she was okay with dropping the subject then. But now that she was dangerously close to her deadline without even being close to a finished product, she thought she might go insane on her boys. 

That's when she calls her mom in for back up. Then instantly regrets it as soon as she sees the hole in the house. “Honey! What happened here?” 

“My marriage fell apart,” Wanda says simply as she rushes to her office. “Pietro is going to fix it, don't worry!” She shouts from the stairs so she can get to work before her mom can catch her in a lecture. The woman shakes her head and makes her way to the kitchen to start lunch for the boys and her daughter. She comes over consistently for the rest of the week to help with house chores, breakfast and lunch, and entertain her grandsons. 

Wanda is grateful for her mother's assistance and is able to get a decent design for pitch at the end of the month and start a few backup ideas. She likes to over prepare. She was even able to complete a budget report and the booklets for the investors by the start of the weekend. Wanda feels bad that she had to prioritize work over her kids but her mother reminds her that she was doing this work for them. That she needs to provide for them. Besides, Wanda was still cooking dinners with Tommy and Billy as well as watching movies every night before bed. Though, it was getting a little tense between the two boys with different interests. 

On Saturday morning, Pietro arrives with his sleepy daughter and Wanda tries to hold in her laughter as she helps the little girl to her bedroom so she can rest. “You’re here early,” Wanda says as she returns downstairs. 

“Mom called me last night. Told me that I should have started the minute I found out. Thank you for that by the way,” Pietro says as he drops some material on the ground. He had pushed some furniture around while she was helping his daughter. “Unfortunately for Luna, she still wanted to come with me. I told her last night we’d be here at six am sharp. She said she was fine with it until I actually had to wake her up. But,” he shakes his head in amusement, “she still wanted to come here.” 

Wanda crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “She loves her cousins,” she yawns. 

“That she does,” Pietro stares at his tools. “Can I tell you something that you can't tell anyone?” Wanda confirms that her brother can confide in her. “Crystalia and I are considering trying for another. She could use a sibling, you know?”

“Oh, Pietro, that's wonderful news!” Wanda congratulates her brother. 

“Thank you, but please, don't tell mom. She'll call about positions and give other advice that I do not need to hear again,” he says recalling the conversation he overheard his mom and sister having a few years ago. Wanda cringes at the memory herself. 

“I’ll spare you, don't worry,” she says. “I’m going to start some coffee, do you want any?”

“Yes please,” he rolls out the plans Wanda had sent to him. 

You are knocking on Jean's door as you check the time again to make sure that you aren't running late. Your friend asked you to be at the location by noon and he sent you the address this morning. From what you saw from the images online, the place looked nice enough. You wondered why it needed altering at all but remember that he said there was an accident that led to this alteration. 

The door opens and it's Anna, Jean's wife. “She’s almost ready, you're welcome to wait in the living room,” she says kindly. 

“Thank you,” you step inside. It never gets easier walking into this house even though it's been years since you've lived here. It was a gift from both your family and Jean's when the two of you got married. Because the two of you were so young, neither of you cared about a wedding. In fact, the two of you were engaged for less than a week when you drove off to a cheap chapel and eloped. Both of your families were upset because they wanted to be part of the wedding process but were still happy the two of you decided to tie the knot. And since there was some money being saved for future weddings and college funds, that at the time weren't going to be used, they pooled together that money and surprised you and Jean with this house. 

It was a fixer upper for sure and you worked on it every weekend until you were twenty-two. When you and Jean got divorced. You paid for every repair and upgrade with the tips you got bartending and any extra scraps from the job sites that your foreman approved for you to take. You still did repairs for the house here and there whenever they needed it and couldn't afford to hire someone. But, it was no longer your house and with how much time and money you put into the place, it was the hardest part of the marriage to let go of. 

You bounce your leg anxiously as you wait for your daughter to come out of her room. “Can I get you anything?” Anna asks before she enters the kitchen. “You seem a little anxious.”

“No, thank you,” you politely decline. “I’m doing a favor for my boss and I just want to do a good job and make a good impression,” you admit. “Plus, his sister is apparently some great architect and she could be a great connection but you know how I get around new people.” 

Anna nods, ignoring your words and listening to your body instead. “I’m making you some tea. It can help soothe your nerves so that you're not this loud jumbled energy. Your whole aura is a mess and it won't help you make a good impression.” She disappears in the kitchen before you can decline the beverage again. 

“Hey, babe! Who was at the- oh! It was you,” Jean says as she enters the living room space. “She’s almost ready,” she remarks about your daughter. “She’s a little nervous about all of the new friends she's going to make. I'm trying to keep a positive attitude about it but these kids are going to be nice to her right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, well,” you pause. “I hope so. But they're not all new to her. She's met Luna a few times and they get along great.  He said her cousins are sweet boys, closer to Rachel’s age. Besides, they'll have parental supervision and I'll be nearby the whole time.” You assure the mother of your child. 

“Okay,” she takes a relaxing breath as she joins you on the sofa. “That makes me feel better. Where's Anna?” 

“Making me a tea,” you say and lean in close. “Apparently my aura is a mess,” you say in a manner that lets Jean know that you find her wife's assessment of you ridiculous. Jean laughs at your silliness. 

“You’re a jerk, she's only trying to help,” Jean defends. 

You lean back with your hands up in surrender, “I never said I wasn't grateful. I am going to chug that tea, I promise. Scouts honor.” 

Jean rolls her eyes, “You were never a scout.” 

“That’s because I was corrupted by your bad influence,” you retort playfully. 

“Oh whatever, if I remember correctly, you were the one pulling all of the crazy stunts. I never did anything. I was an innocent bystander,” Jean points out. 

You laugh at the flood of childhood memories that you and Jean share. She wasn't wrong, you were constantly getting into trouble as kids. Only because you were trying to impress her and maintain her attention. No matter what the cost was. It was amazing that the two of you were still alive today. “Okay, that's fair,” you say as Anna returns with a thermos for you. “Oh cool, thank you. I'll bring this back to y'all next weekend.”

“No problem,” she sits next to Jean and throws her arm around the woman. Jean falls comfortably against her wife and the two share a sweet smile with each other. You look away from them as you feel longing for a relationship again. Not with Jean, of course. The two of you didn't have what she had found with Anna. But you want that with someone. To have the close connection these two have. It was difficult dating as a single parent at twenty-seven. Not everyone was understanding that Jean and you are better off friends and maintain a healthy relationship. Many situationships fail because your best stories involve your best friend, who happens to be your ex-wife. Another relationship killer is surprisingly that your daughter is always going to be your number one priority. Always. 

Luckily, your daughter comes into the room and hops on your lap as she happily greets you. Clearing your mind of any thought of loneliness. “Hey, pumpkin! Are you ready to go?”

“Hmm,” she looks at you nervously and then to her mom's. They are worried about her as much as you are. She doesn’t have many friends due to her social awkwardness. You jokingly claim she inherited it from her mother but you both know it was from you. “Is Luna really there?” she asks. You shift around to grab your phone and pull up your conversation with Pietro and find the picture he sent of Luna with her cousins and show it to her. “Oh! I know those boys! They go to my school,” she says excitedly which lets you know that is a good thing. “They were in my class last year!” She hops off of you and straightens her outfit out,“Okay, I'm ready.” Jean, Anna, and you laugh as her tone has changed so fast. 

“Alright, I’ll see the two of you next Saturday,” you say as you get up and follow your daughter. The two of you jam out to whatever pop artist that has her interest at the moment. You couldn’t keep up with her and the stuff she likes. Songs were simple enough to catch on with the lyrics and it amuses her when you get them very very wrong. 

When you arrive at the house, you see that Pietro has made a lot of progress on his own and torn up most of the wall from the outside. As you park, you receive a text from Wanda asking if the two of you were still on to buy her a drink later on. Another one saying that she is looking forward to it. You regretfully message that a work thing came up and that you will have to let her know. Then, you knock on the door and are surprised to see Wanda is the one answering. 

She looks at you as confused as you are. Her expression quickly drops to one that she hopes is threatening. “What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?” Wanda starts out defensively. Whispering in a sharp tone so she doesn't alarm her kids or her brother. You gulp as you try to find the right words to explain that you're not some crazy stalker. 

But Rachel speaks before you can get a word out. “Can I go play with Luna?” She asks Wanda sweetly. 

This throws the woman off as she looks down and notices your daughter. She freezes as she connects the dots. “Um, of course, sweetheart. Go on in, she's upstairs with her cousins.” The little girl runs inside and disappears up the stairs. “You’re the person my brother asked to help with the hole?” Wanda asks, still not letting you inside. 

“I really had no idea the two of you were related.” You say as you hold up your tool box. “But, uh, yeah. You're the work thing that might prevent me from buying you a drink later,” you try to lighten the mood. 

Wanda isn't sure if she wanted you in her house. You know nothing about her and she liked it that way. She knew that eventually she would have to open up to you if the two of you kept up with the meetings. But not like this. Not with you repairing the damage she did to her home. But when Pietro comes to the door she has no choice but to let you in. “Hey, Y/n, I'm glad you could make it. This is my little sister, Wanda,” he introduces. You stand there watching Wanda. Waiting to see if she wanted the two of you to be strangers. Or if you were allowed to reveal your acquaintance. But she remains quiet. Taking her cue, you offer your hand in greeting. “Wands, this is the person I told you about. They do fantastic work. If dad were still alive, he'd have us competing to take over the company,” he boasts. 

You laugh, “You speak too highly of me, P. It's great to meet you, Wanda.” 

“Thank you for coming to help my incompetent twin brother,” she emphasizes to let you know that she isn't younger than her brother as he claimed. “I truly appreciate it.” 

“Ouch,” Pietro holds his chest, “I’m doing a nice thing for you and this is how you treat me?” He shakes his head. “Come on in,” he waves you into the house. You follow him in and Wanda walks away, announcing that she's starting lunch. You keep your eyes in her direction a little longer than you should have and Pietro notices. He snaps his fingers in your face and you look at him. “Don’t think about it,” he says sternly. 

You hold a hand up in surrender, “I wasn't. She just,” you can’t continue because he doesn’t believe you. “Nevermind, are you ready to get to work?” You ask as you set your toolbox down and remove your jacket. 

Wanda checks on you and her brother every few minutes. Seeing the two of you sharing a laugh while you work. The ease at which you remove pieces of the house. She didn’t like that she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, but deduced it to her not trusting the stranger in her house. An hour later, she’s offering everyone lunch. The kids come running down and Pietro tries to get you to take a break. But you aren’t certain you’re allowed to. 

“Are you hungry?” She asks as she steps over the line of tape Pietro made for the kids. 

“I’ll be fine,” you assure as you pull off another piece of the wall from the inside. “Hey,” you stop her from walking away. “Are you going to block my number?” you set the piece on the pile. 

“Why would I do that?” She asks with her arms crossing over her chest. 

“I’m not sure if accidentally finding out,” you make a noise as you pull another piece out, “where you live is considered a creepy offense.” You grin at her as you look at her over your shoulder. 

Wanda smiles a little, “No, I'm not going to block you. Only as a thank you though,” she steps around and looks back when she hears the kids laughing to see Pietro being silly. She turns back to you, “For the free labor, of course.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” you grab the water bottle you had nearby. “Maybe you're the one who tracked me down,” you jokingly accuse. “Heard your brother rave about my work so you found me at a liquor store and charmed me so that I wouldn't charge you.” 

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself.” Then she scoffs as she remembers the two of you meeting. She certainly wasn't dressed to charm anyone. 

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither certain if that's the end of the conversation. She wants to walk away to go eat but she wants to be certain that you're fine with going on without a meal. You are trying to decide whether or not it's too late to accept her offer and aren't sure if she's going to ask again or leave you to continue working. When she doesn't move you pull your gloves off as you step closer. “What’s for lunch?”

“Food that I made,” she says vaguely but still playful. 

“Am I still allowed to find out?” You shove the gloves in your back pocket. 

“I suppose I can't let you starve,” she replies. “But you didn't seem like you wanted any before.”

You shrug, “I didn't want to appear rude.”

Wanda nods once and drops her arms, “Some people might say it’s rude to decline a meal.” 

“I wasn’t raised that way,” you say, “But I do know people that have, so that’s a fair point.” 

She smiles at the floor as you stand a few inches from her now. “You are welcome to take a break and eat. Consider it another part of my payment.” She looks back up at you then quickly turns away. You follow her to the table where everyone else is eating. You pass them to wash your hands in the kitchen sink. There is more laughter and you turn to see your daughter, who you think is hilarious but is normally very shy around people she isn’t comfortable with, causing the laughter. Wanda notices a bit of food on Rachel’s chin and she instinctively wipes it with a napkin. You dry your hands and join the table. 

You sit in the empty seat next to your daughter and serve yourself a plate. You get to know Tommy and Billy as the group of you enjoy the lunch together and you feel better about letting Rachel hang out with them. Pietro was being truthful when he said that they are sweet boys. Once the kids finish up, they are racing up the stairs to resume their activities, leaving the adults to the table. “Thank you guys for helping me out. I truly appreciate it,” Wanda says as she sips her drink from her cup. 

“Thank us when the work is done, alright?” Pietro says as finishes his plate. You agree as you finish your food as well. 

“We should get back to it. Thank you, the meal was delicious,” excuse yourself from the table, grabbing as many plates as you can carry to the sink. Wanda tries to intercept but ultimately grabs what you can’t carry and follows you to the sink.

“You really didn’t have to, I could’ve taken care of it,” she says as she moves the plates. “But thank you, again.” 

You smile at her, “It’s really no big deal, Wanda.” You walk away to continue to work with her brother. 

As it gets close to dinner time, Pietro receives a call from his wife and he has to call it a day. He quickly packs his things, pulls Luna away from a serious Mario Kart competition, and bids everyone a goodnight. “I’ll see you guys in the morning before you’re off to your dad’s,” he says as he hugs his nephews goodbye. “Thank you for helping me with this,” he says to you. The two of you slap your hands together and pull into a short hug. 

“No problem, man. You know I’m always willing to help,” you reply. “Besides, I owe you.” 

Pietro nods once in acknowledgement and then moves on to his sister. “Do I need to rent a wood chipper? For tomorrow? Send the bastard a good message.” 

Wanda laughs, “No, he’ll just sue you for property damages. You don’t need to be dealing with that on top of everything else. He’s not worth it.” 

“But you are,” he says and hugs her. “Give your aunt and cousins hugs,” he tells his daughter. She does as he says sadly because she doesn’t want to go yet. Pietro promises the crying girl that they’ll be back the next morning but she is still reluctant to go. Unfortunately, he has to carry the girl crying all the way to his truck. The boys run off with Rachel to try and finish the match before it’s time for her to go too. 

You laugh as you watch them disappear. “I guess that’s my cue as well,” you say as you start to pack up your things. There’s an awkwardness to your movements as you aren’t sure if the previous plans for the two of you were still on or not. But you aren’t sure how to ask. “I’ll uh, see you tomorrow?” 

Wanda nods slowly as she watches you. “I wanted to keep our plans but, I’m sure you’re exhausted and well, keeping those kids entertained was pretty draining.” 

“Oh, yeah, no,” you wave your hands around as you play off the disappointment. “I get it. Another time then?” You toss your jacket over your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Wanda nods, “I don’t have Tommy and Billy this week. Maybe we can figure out a time to meet up. And it doesn't have to be at the store.” 

“Um,” you look to the floor then look back up, “Rach and I have a camping trip planned this week. We're leaving Monday morning. We'll be back on Friday, though. So maybe Friday night?” Wanda begins to worry about what the meet up might be interpreted as. She isn't sure why now she was having this anxiety. She said that she was looking forward to the store. She suggested that they meet somewhere else. Almost as if you can read her mind, you include. “It’d be nice to have a friend that isn't my ex-wife or my boss.”

“Aren’t I technically your boss until this is done?” Wanda asks with a playful tone. 

“You’re not paying me,” you retort. 

“I am, in food,” she reminds you. 

You click your teeth, “You’ve got me there.” You walk to the bottom of the stairs and call out for your daughter to let her know it's time to go. “So, Friday?” 

“Will you be offended if I bring someone?” Wanda asks as she thinks about how she can solidify that it's just friends hanging out. Nothing more. 

You laugh, “No, I won't be offended. The more, the merrier.” Rachel comes running down the stairs. “Ready, pumpkin?” You ask as she stops beside you. 

“Yeah, I almost beat Tommy, but he got me,” she frowns. “I will get him tomorrow though. I'm going to kick his butt!” she says with determination. Then she looks at Wanda and freezes, not noticing her there before. 

Wanda smiles at the young girl and leans forward, “Can you keep a secret?” Rachel nods, her eyes still wide. “I hope you win,” she straightens up and follows you and Rachel to the front door. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she says to you as she leans against the front door. 

“I will see you tomorrow, Wanda,” you bid her a goodnight and climb into your car. 

“I think Tommy and Billy will be great brothers,” Rachel says as she gets her playlist ready. 

“What are you going on about over there?” You say with a laugh. 

Rachel shrugs as she finds a love song, “It's okay, you’ll catch up eventually.” You laugh at her randomness. 

Wanda calls the boys down so they can start dinner and she smiles every time she thinks of your name.

Chapter 4

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @evenbeingcrazy1998 @olsensnpm @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiwritesfanfics @lizziesplant @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon

[motte-the-goblin]

You know what? Have another one!

This is a whole other Conflict than the other one.

It's also a whole other OC.

I wrote this a while ago.

Tags: mention of death, Grief, mlm ship

Wordcount: 1092

This is Bear, he started out as a reader Insert because why not but at this point the idea of him is definitley more of a self insert if I'm completely honest.

Bear is a control Operator for the GAR, recieving and forwarding general Comm calls that don't go diectly into private channels. Kind of like when you call 911 but for the Military. I have no idea if that's something that exists either in Star Wars or even in real life, but it sounds logical so I'm going with it :D

Fair warning: Rex died in this one. The Conflict is about Grief and letting go, the question of how to get back to oneself after a terrible loss.

(Before anyone asks, no I am not fine, lol xD )

For context: Someone, (like echo or some sweet soul, haven't decided) brought Bear Rex' Helmet, as it was the only thing they could recover from the accident, that's how the bucket ends up on Bears shelf.

obligatory Tag @clonexocweek

your eyes wandered across the room to the neatly displayed White and Blue Trooper Helmet on the Shelf above your TV. You kept it clean, dusting it at least twice a week and wiping it down occasionally. As if that would bring him back. you put your datapad down, bookmarking where you left the Novel you were reading and walked over across the small room. Stars, how you missed him. Deep in thought your fingers traced the weathered dark blue marks he had earned after his first Battle. You’d loved the stylised Jaig Eyes since the first time you laid eyes on them, even before knowing the Man underneath the Helmet that was now only memorabilia on your shelf. Fondly you remembered the first Time Rex had opened up to you about that Battle and the near death experience he had and how he chose his symbol. your fingers kept stroking the cool Material, imagining it was him they were touching. 

“Bear?”

You sighed.

“Hey, Bear, you okay?”, finally the soft voice of your best friend and roommate pulled you back into the present as she touched your shoulder carefully. 

You nodded slowly. A lie, of course. You hadn’t been okay since that day. 

“Do you need a hug?”, the small woman asked, opening her arms slightly as an invitation. You were about double her size in height and width but this tiny person always provided such a feeling of safety to you, that you just sunk into her arms. 

“I still miss him so much.” you whispered almost inaudibly into her shoulder as you leaned on your best friend. 

“I know, Love. I know.” she didn’t know what else to say, as she gently stroked the back of your head. Since that day you kept your hair buzzed and bleached as if to will him back to you by looking like him. 

Letting out a big sigh you parted from the healing hug and smiled weakly at Pearl. Your eyes swimming with tears you didn’t want to allow but also full of thanks for your best friend. 

You’d probably be dead without her. 

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the thoughts that still tugged at the corners of your mind every day.  

Pearl reached up and cupped your stubbly cheek with her hand. 

“I’m always here for you, babes.” 

“I know.” 

“We’re being overrun!” 

…

“WE NEED BACKUP!” 

…..

Static. then Blaster shots. 

“Captain Rex? Rex! Come in, Captain!”

Nothing but static. 

“Rex… please… come in…”, mumbling his Name again and again while tossing violently in your Bed you dreamt of that day. almost every night for over a Year now. It had gotten better the past few Months but now the dream was back in full force, feeling almost more real than the day it all happened.

You didn’t register Pearl slipping into your room and soothing you back to a more peaceful sleep. She always came and sat with you until you were calm again, not always to your knowledge.

You hadn’t been able to go back to work and you doubted you ever would be. The GAR had granted you paid leave until further notice, but 13 Month after the fact they did reach out, asking if you knew when you could come back. that Message had brought back all the nasty memories and thrown all the healing you had managed to achieve. 

Now you were sitting in your Therapists office, blankly staring at the forms on the datapad before you. 

“Permanent leave” 

“Pension” 

“New Career path, maybe?”

The words that drifted into your ears meant nothing to you. Your therapist might as well have been speaking Huttese.  

Your Name, firmly spoken, finally broke through the clouds that occupied your head. 

“Yeah?”

“What do you think you want to do now?” Dr. Crane asked again. 

She was always so patient. you were very thankful for her. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.”, you let out a defeated sigh and lowered the Datapad into your lap.

“I can’t think. I still can’t think of anything else. I loved my job. I can’t imagine doing anything else… but…”, your voice trailed off. 

“But the pain is still too much?” Dr. Crane offered and you nodded, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands across your temples. 

“Shouldn’t it be better by now?”, you asked silently, almost ashamed that you still weren’t over your loss. 

“Grief and Trauma do not work on a fixed timeline, you know that. Any time you need is the right amount of time. and it’s not like you haven’t made progress at all. But losing a loved one like this and basically bearing witness while being completely unable to help will … fuck you up, if you excuse the crude language. you might never be back to ‘normal’.” registering the tears that immediately welled up in your eyes, she continued speaking in a soft tone. “All you can do is be gentle and patient with yourself and allow your grief to exist.” 

You took a deep breath and posed another question that felt wrong and shameful.

“Do you think I should let go? Am I keeping myself from healing by… holding on?” your words were suffocated by a sudden sob that left your chest.

Dr. Crane thought for a moment before she spoke.

“While sometimes that can be the case, I don’t think it is here. Even if we would put Grief on some kind of ‘healthy timeline’, which as I said isn’t really possible, you are still very much in those parameters.”

She spoke your name again, to focus your attention back out of your thoughts and onto her.

“It’s been only 13 Month. You never got an actual answer as to what happened to the man you loved. The way you told me how that Distress Call reached you, you probably heard him die. Would you ever expect your best friend, for example, to recover from that on a strict timeline? Within a year?” 

You shook your head, trying to fight the tears that burned in your eyes. Of Course you wouldn’t. But it just felt like you’d never be okay again. 

“Think on those forms and get back to me, next week, or the week after. There is no pressure.” the Therapist reassuringly touched your hand where you held the datapad, looking at you with empathetically furrowed brows. 

You just nodded again, a silent Thank you on your lips as you left her office, with no clue on what to do.

[lyriumcoloredskies]

Written in the Pages pt.2

Pairing: Bakugo x Villain!Reader WC: 2.7k Summary: In which Bakugo finds himself a little too attached to a certain public nuisance, much to the detriment of his own life. pt.1 here CW: slight angst, happy ending, therapy mention, coming to terms with reality AN: UwU the fact that I wrote this in a day is astounding bc ya gorl usual could never

Kirishima stood outside of Bakugo’s high rise apartment, hesitant and unsure of how this would go. He checked his phone to see that both Mina and Midoriya had texted him their ETA. He pocketed the phone and adjusted the case of beers in his other hand to stop the cardboard from digging into his fingers. He was glad to have backup for this and prayed to whatever gods were listening that Bakubro wouldn’t turn away a small “friendly get together”.

He wasn’t dumb, despite all the himbo attributes that tended to be pinned onto him by his rabid fangirls (not that he wasn’t grateful for their almost too enthusiastic support). He certainly wasn’t clueless when it came to his best friend. Kirishima knew Bakugo like the back of his hand. From the angry insecure boy he used to be, to the aloof and pragmatic man he had become. Rarely had they spent a day apart since starting the agency or since UA for that matter.

So it worried Kirishima when Bakugo began to become snippier, especially toward the sidekicks. After a tantrum of yelling and biting insults, he would silently come behind the storm Bakugo left to console the sidekicks letting them know it was nothing personal. He was willing to let Bakugo work through his feelings, these things tended to resolve rather quickly. Despite his rough exterior, Bakugo had gained a fair amount of emotional intelligence as he matured.

To his surprise, that wasn’t the case. More and more frequently Bakugo came in with exhaustion draping over his face, bags deep under his eyes, and his emotions like a bomb on the edge of explosion if the wrong wire was clipped. Most concerning of all was how Bakugo was doing on the field.

Kirishima could tell something was wrong with Bakubro, and Red Riot could tell things were amiss with Dynamight.

He had spent so much time alongside him that he knew every intimate detail of how he fought. Their moves a complex ballroom dance, a waltz for two. The man was sharp and calculated. Bakugo strove to be the best, and that meant he did things with frightening efficiency (if you ignored the massive amount of property damage that came along with his quirk).

But for the last few months his reflexes were lagging, the exhaustion of too many late nights showing, leading to avoidable injuries that seemed to linger for too long.

It wasn’t just him that noticed either. Midoriya had made an impromptu visit to the agency ask if things were okay with the blonde. Kirishima felt guilty to let him know that he had no clue, that the two of them were in the same boat, clueless to Bakugo and his inner turmoil. 

Then a few weeks ago during a get together with the Bakusquad at their favorite izakaya, Mina pulled him aside to ask if things between him and Bakugo were alright. She had suspected Bakugo’s continual reluctance to meet up might have been due to a fight between the two friends. He quickly let her know that it wasn’t the case and that he had been concerned too. It didn’t help that Bakugo was a masterclass in shutting down any discussion of his health, be it physical or mental. Each time Kirishima would pluck up the courage to ask if something was wrong, he was met with a scoff or roll of the eyes.

“I’m fine, drop it.” Bakugo would grit out between clenched teeth. His arms crossed in front of him defensively.

Kirishima knew better than to keep pressing lest he and the sidekicks wanted to deal with a testy Bakugo for the rest of the week. His efforts to try and get him to talk in another setting hadn’t worked either. Bakugo had pointedly been ignoring his texts, Kirishima had been lucky if he was even able to get a one worded reply. Bakugo hadn’t been very active in their group texts either. It seemed like if it wasn’t work, Bakugo didn’t care. Kirishima really tried to be a patient and good friend but at this point he knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. His friend was too exhausted, too hurt, too withdrawn. He knew the consequences of sloppiness of the field, he had witnessed it firsthand.

That was how heroes died.

Kirishima would be damned if this was how his friend would go out. No, Bakugo was a bright star - destined for more than the inky black loneliness he had decided to surround himself in.

Drawing in a breath, he steeled his resolve and knocked.

***

Bakugo walked through the neighborhood, the cold winter air biting his cheeks, staining them a ruddy color. He took in the sights of the street vendors beginning to set up their stalls as the barely peeking sun bathed the world in its soft orange pink light.

He let his mind wander back to the talk he, Kirishima, Deku, and Mina had a few months ago. At first he had felt offended, like an animal cornered and threatened. The hot coals of embarrassment turning into a roaring fire as he lashed out. How humiliating to be confronted by everything he knew was true. He knew his performance as a hero had been suffering, but to see it in front of him in the form of his friend’s concerned faces had been a slap in the face, even then it was no match to Mina’s words about how they were worried he was isolating himself. Those words froze his veins over and settled into permafrost in his chest.

How quickly had he forgotten everything he already had to turn to a siren song? He was so desperate for a love, a touch he never knew, that he was willing to forget everything he already had to plunge into the icy waters of an illusion that would never be.

Bakugo had never been one to do things lightly. His feet continue to carry him as he reminisces of the month it took to overhaul his entire life.

He packed up his romance novels, haphazardly stacking them all into a cardboard box, which he unceremoniously shoved deep under his bed, too far for him to reach. He cleaned his apartment, dusting the blinds and the ceiling fan, collecting the trash from his floors, and scrubbing the dirt off every surface. He even took a rag to the baseboards. Hours of effort would culminate into a sparkling apartment, the sight lifting his mood and settling his soul. He took it as a sign that perhaps - things would be okay.

As he settled into his couch he poured himself a glass of whiskey as a treat for his hard work today. A groan involuntarily left his lips as his joints popped and creaked when he fished his phone out of his pocket. He shot off a quick text to Kirishima, letting him know that he was going to take two weeks off of work, a rarity for him. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he read through Kirishima's enthusiastic emoji ladden reply encouraging him to take the time to recover. 

Things would be okay.

Knowing he would have to inevitably face this, he texted his PR manager to pawn his social media accounts off to her. It felt like the right step in his detox from his addiction - from you. He took a large sip of the whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat before pleasantly settling into his stomach. The balmy feeling slowly floating into his veins, helping him feel a little number and a little better for what he had to do.

The hardest had yet to come; he knew he had to delete his account on the writing site. As he logged into his account, he stared at the bookmarks of writings he had collected over the months. Each title brought a smile to his face as he reminisced over the hundreds of lifetimes with you – too many to count, each perfect and special in their own ways - moments of utter intimacy that swept Bakugo off his feet.

Reading the various titles was like a loaded gun, ready to spray his messy emotions out into the world again. Katsuki hesitates, his finger floating over the delete account button. It would be easy to just not do it in order to preserve every memory, the emotions shared, the trials and tribulations you two had been through. He drains the rest of his whiskey and embraces the burn settling into each taste bud.

Bakugo presses the screen of his phone.

The warmth of the alcohol seeps into him as the same time as the tingle of loneliness enters every marrow of his being.

You were gone.

.

.

.

Steadily he began filling his life with the things he loved. For the first time in months he finds himself in his childhood home to visit his mother and father. He takes in the sight of their greying hair, wondering how life had managed to go by so quickly. It had done him some good until the old hag began nagging him about not yet finding a wife.

Bakugo tries his best to ignore the cold tendrils encircling in his heart.

He starts going to his friend's scheduled hangouts again at their favorite izakaya. He would never admit it but Sero and Denki’s jokes and laughter breathe life into his worn self. He ardently denies the furling vines of jealousy from taking root as Kyoka and Momo announce their wedding plans.

He checks in on his classmates and even finds himself back at UA for a charity event. The nostalgia grips his heart as he wanders the same old halls and sees his old teachers. Aizawa-sensei is the same as ever, sleep deprived and utterly done with life, though Bakugo can spy the fondness in his eyes as he looks over his old troublesome students. While mingling, although Mina would disagree and say he was just standing intimidatingly, he finds out that Deku and Cheeks were expecting their first child.

He tries to block out the feeling of the lead in his stomach.

His shitty love life has nothing to do with their happiness so he grunts out a congrats and ignores the dopey lovesick expression on that idiot Deku’s face.

That night at UA reignites his efforts of trying to maintain a normal life and he throws himself into his hobbies. He signs up for a rock climbing gym and then sporadically adopts a small tortie kitten he saves on a total bullshit hero job (he affectionately names her Princess Explosion Murder). He starts cooking with a renewed fervor, trying desperately to ignore that he was cooking for one. He also ignores the weird tight feeling in his chest as he glances at the chair on the other side of his dining table, always empty.

Bakugo thinks he's doing everything right until he's somehow not. He brings it up to his therapist (one that he doesn't want but Kirishima bullied him into getting). That's when his therapist recommends that he “reconnect with himself” by not keeping busy, but rather listening to his "inner feelings". The phrase makes Bakugo quirk an eyebrow and internally decide that therapists are fucking quacks. His therapist bargains with him and asks him to just try it once. "What's the harm?" she says, eyes measured and too analytical for Katsuki's taste. Sure enough, two weeks ago he abandons the plush interior of his BMW and the ever present traffic of downtown Mustafu for the scenic 30 minute walk to his agency. It infuriates him to no ends that his fucking therapist was right. No wonder he paid out the ass for weekly visits. As the days he walks progresses, so does Bakugo. He decides that while the loneliness would probably never leave him, that in the context of the world, he could slowly see himself accepting that things weren’t so bad.

Things would be okay.

.

.

.

Today his feet took him to a familiar path, a back street filled with vendors that would connect to the busy main street that passed by the small café near Mustafu University, where he would pick up a cinnamon latte before taking a left to the office.

A fresh cold breeze made him draw himself closer his jacket, his feet picking up the speed wanting to get out of the bitter cold. Lost in his own thoughts and the beauty of the watercolor sunrise, he didn’t realize he wasn’t paying attention until it was too late. He collided into something solid and it snapped his attention back to reality. The soft feminine gasp accompanying a not so feminine “fuck” made him look down. He saw papers scattered, escaping a tote bag with the Froppy logo, tilting his chin down a little further he could see the shine of spilled coffee all over his camo green Canada Goose jacket. Without even knowing it his mouth bent down into a scowl. The person who bumped into him seemed fine, just a little shaken up. He knows the polite thing to do is offer a hand and tell the stranger that it was no problem, the jacket is waterproof after all, but after 2 seconds of soul searching he decided that he didn’t give enough of a fuck to be nice. He opened his mouth to release his scathing remarks to the clumsy fuckwad who ran into him until he caught sight of something that skyrocketed his pulse. His mouth dried and he felt his heart drum in his ears.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry” you said as you shakily stood up, akin to a fawn.

You reached into your jacket, fishing out crumpled napkins to help sop up the mess on his expensive jacket. He stood in silence not sure if this was an amalgamation of his own sick mind, because how many times had he imagined exactly this?

“I’m so sorry I should have been more careful!” you profusely apologize, refusing to meet Bakugo’s eyes out of embarrassment.

Bakugo takes in every detail. It was everything he remembers. Your soft bouncy hair, the floral smell (lilacs he commits to memory) of your shampoo wafting to him as you stood entirely too close to him. Though you're bundled in a winter jacket, he can make out the distinct shape of your body that had him in a chokehold for months. The skin of your hands shines, its clear that you managed to also drenched in yourself in coffee. Your hands shake as the liquid on your skin settles into a chill that penetrates your bones.

Katsuki trembles, his fist clenches in his pockets, desperately trying to ground himself. He can feel the cold winter air, he can smell the spilt coffee, and he can hear the rustle of the napkin over his jacket. This is all real.

You continue your efforts to clean Bakugo’s jacket until he places his warm hands over yours. He relishes in it, despite the temperature difference, he can tell your skin is soft and smooth. Your hands are tiny in his and he drinks up the sight, his pulse racing. His actions seem to surprise you as your head darts up, catching his brilliant vermillion eyes, like the prettiest sunrise you had ever seen. Your breath catches in your throat as the two of you stare at each other, locked in a stalemate.

“I’m sorry” you whisper, Bakugo savors the way your words escape you, the heat of your words brought to life by the winter air. Your lips are as beautiful and kissable as he remembers.

His eyes search yours for an answer, any indication that, somehow this isn’t all just in his mind- that you aren’t just an off duty villain surprised to bump into an off duty hero - that some part of what he wanted was something you wanted too.

“Let-” Bakugo rasps out, his words catching in his dry throat, “Let me buy you another coffee.”.

A beat passes between the both of you.

“Yes”, you reply breathless and airy as if anything more would break the magic spell between you two.

“I’d love that.”

[attendsquoi]

Thea's Quest ~ Ch. 7

Chapter 7: Targets 

Summary: Thea and Kaldur spend the day learning about computers, help Superboy pick a name, and save two countries from war.

Warnings: canon typical violence, blood and injuries

Word count: 3.5k

Thea was glad to have a day off. She needed to catch up on some of Diana’s homework and fill out a few mission reports – and of course some rest was always appreciated. But first, she had to meet Kaldur in the mission room. A week or so prior, the team had found out that Thea didn’t know how to use technology, given its habit of attracting monsters. With the help of her magical pendant she wasn’t at as much risk anymore, but she still didn’t really know how to approach electronics. Kaldur had offered to try to teach her some things on their days off, so that was where she was headed.

“Hey!” Thea called to the Atlantean as she walked into the mission room.

“Good morning, Thea.” Kaldur replied.

The two got to work, Kaldur first showing Thea simply how to gesture in order to turn the screen on.

“I’ve seen so much stuff that is unexplainable by science, and yet this feels so magical to me.” Thea said to Kaldur as she practiced.

He had opened his mouth to reply when their comms went off.

“Aqualad.” Kaldur reported.

“Red Arrow.” Came the voice on the other end.

Thea frowned. She wasn’t a fan. Red Arrow was aggressive, which she could look past, but his general distaste and distrust of her and her friends – especially Artemis – rubbed her the wrong way. She just felt like something was off about him.

“I need access to the Justice League's database and the exact height of the League of Shadows assassin known as Cheshire.” Red Arrow said.

Kaldur moved over in front of Thea to pull up the necessary information. 

“Checking. Cheshire is 1.67 meters.” Kaldur said.

“Um…” Red Arrow trailed off.

Thea rolled her eyes.

 “She’s 5 foot 6.” She clarified.

“And exceptionally dangerous. Do you require backup?” Kaldur asked.

As much as she didn’t like Red Arrow, Thea respected Kaldur’s kindness toward his friend.

“Please. The last thing I need is the Junior Justice League.” Red Arrow rejected.

“Just our computer.” Kaldur said sassily.

Thea couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Good luck, my friend. Aqualad out.”

~~~

After their call with Red Arrow, M’gann walked through the mission room. Thea and Aqualad followed her to the hangar to wish her and Superboy a good first day of class.

“Ready for school? I made our lunches.” M’gann said as she flew toward Superboy.

“The first day of the scholastic season carries great cultural resonance. We want to wish you both well.” Martian Manhunter said as he, Red Tornado, Kaldur, and Thea approached.

“Guess it's not a Kryptonian thing.” Superboy said sadly.

Thea felt a wave of anger at Big Boy Blue. The way Superman ignored his clone reminded her of the ways the gods ignored their unclaimed children. 

Powerful people need to learn how to parent. She thought with a frown.

“Wait, Thea, why aren’t you going to school?” M’gann asked.

Thea’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“Oh, uh, I don’t go to school.” She said, unsure how to answer the question.

“What do you mean?” M’gann asked. “Surely you care about your education.” She continued.

“No, of course.” Thea said.

“Just, the last time I was in school was five years ago, and a harpy attacked one of my classmates.” She explained.

Everyone looked at her with some amount of confusion of concern.

“He was fine!” She assured.

“But anyway. I’m – uh – I’m homeschooled.” Thea said. 

“You may wish to change before you depart.” Kaldur mentioned to M’gann, changing the topic.

“Ah! I spent hours choosing this outfit. What do you think?” M’gann said as she spun around, her clothes transforming out of her hero outfit and into a skirt and blouse.

“Can M'gann M'orzz pass as an Earth girl now?” She asked.

“Well…” Kaldur trailed off, unsure how to break the news.

Thea pursed her lips, holding in a giggle.

“Just kidding!” M’gann laughed.

“Meet Megan Morse.” She said, her skin changing from green to caucasian.

“What's your new name?” She asked Superboy.

“My what?” He asked.

“I chose the name John Jones for myself. And suggested John Smith for Red Tornado. You could be a John too.” Martian Manhunter suggested.

“Pass.”

M’gann – or Megan – put her hands on Superboy’s arm.

“Conner's always been my favorite name.” She said.

Superboy shrugged ambivalently, accepting the title. 

Thea thought back to her most familiar Connor: Connor Stoll. Half of the set of twins who consistently lovingly made her life at camp difficult as hell. 

“A last name will also be required.” Kaldur said.

“Perhaps Kent?” Martian Manhunter suggested. 

“Oh, in memory of Dr. Fate, the late Kent Nelson.” Megan said.

“Of… course.” He replied.

Thea sensed something off and looked over at Kaldur. She tilted her head slightly to indicate her question. The boy winked at her. Thea’s eyebrows raised at the implication. Superman’s last name is Kent; that’s knowledge to file away for later.

“Okay, sure. I guess it'd be an honor or something.” Superboy, now Connor, agreed.

“Well, Conner Kent, time to change your shirt.” Megan said. 

Connor looked down at his shirt, then back at her, confused.

“You don't wanna reveal your identity.” She explained, tapping his chest.

Connor reached over his shoulder and pulled off his shirt. Thea’s eyes widened. She may not like the boy romantically, but he was by no means an unattractive man.

“Ugh, will this work?” He asked, pulling the shirt inside out. 

Megan looked like a deer in headlights.

“Works for me.” She all but drooled.

Thea put a hand around her mouth to stop herself from laughing, or at least hide her gleeful grin. Kalur glanced at her and chuckled.

“Wait, shouldn't I be Conner Nelson?” Thea heard Connor ask as he and Megan walked away.

“They grow up so fast.” Manhunter said fondly.

~~~

Kaldur and Thea took some time the rest of the morning to do some work, and make lunch. Thea really liked spending time with Kaldur. It reminded her of her early days at camp, meeting and getting to know Luke, Annabeth, and Grover – back when it all felt so simple.

Later, they returned to the mission room. Thea was slowly but surely getting the hang of using the cave’s computer, but she could always use more practice. 

Again, their comms went off. 

“It’s me. I may possibly be in over my head.” Red Arrow said.

After a brief conversation to plan, the call ended.

“You go ahead.” Thea said as soon as Red Arrow hung up.

“You’re not coming?” Kaldur asked, seeming confused.

“He doesn’t like me.” Thea stated bluntly. “The whole situation will be easier if I’m not there. He’s not upset by my presence and you don’t have to worry about the two of us not getting along.”

Kaldur paused, thinking over her words.

“You do not need to come if you really do not want to.” He began. “But I think we will need your help. As… abrasive as he can be, he does not hate you, and I know that his distrust is misplaced. I will not force it, but I would like you to come with me.” Kaldur said.

Thea’s posture softened.

“Okay.” She said. “But only if you don’t leave me alone with him.” She commanded.

“Deal.” Kaldur said with a smile.

~~~

Kaldur and Thea arrived in Taipei covertly. Zeta tubes meant no TSA, but Thea didn’t want to risk openly carrying her sword into a politically tense situation, so she stuck with her dagger hidden under her jacket. The two were standing in front of a podium where Red Arrow, along with Lex Luthor and the representatives from North and South Rhelasia were. 

Thea felt a presence behind her.

“Get ready.” She whispered to Kaldur.

He turned around to face the disguised woman as Thea shifted over slightly, getting out of the way while making sure to watch Kaldur’s back.

“That is far enough, Cheshire.” He said.

The assailant acted innocent for only a second, before pushing a button on the tea cart she was pushing and leaping away. Kaldur pulled the water from the cups on the podium, forming a wall of water just as Red Arrow shot an arrow, setting off the bomb. Fortunately, Kaldur’s wall held, but the exertion it took was obvious. As soon as the explosion cleared, Kaldur dropped the barrier.

“It’s over, Cheshire.” Somebody said.

“You would think so.” She replied coyly.

Thea’s eyes narrowed. A helicopter carrying a group of assassins piloted next to the building.

“Take Sportsmaster. Cheshire’s mine.” Red Arrow commanded Kaldur.

“Thea–” Kaldur started.

“Protect the ambassadors?” She said, already pulling out her dagger to engage the closest Shadow.

“Yes.” He acknowledged, focusing his attention on Sportsmaster.

Thea moved quickly, focusing on the Shadows and making sure they couldn’t get too close to the ambassadors. She only had her dagger, and the Shadows were trained in a different fighting style, but her years of sword practice and combat training made her a formidable opponent. The whole time, Thea was careful. Monsters could be killed and would eventually come back – but these were mortals, and she didn’t want to murder anyone. 

Thea ducked a blow from the Shadow in front of her, then kicked their leg out from under them. They fell and hit their head on the ground. Quickly another Shadow engaged her. They circled each other, each landing hits and defending against the others’ attacks. Oddly, this Shadow seemed to be pushing Thea away from the ambassadors rather than getting closer to them himself. Thea glanced over, trying to find Lex Luthor as well as her friends. The slight moment of distraction was enough for the Shadow to push Thea outside the building. As soon as her foot crossed over the threshold, the soldier spun around, heading back to the ambassadors.

“Vlakas!” She swore, realizing the trick.

~~~

Before she had the chance to run back inside, though, a sudden searing pain cut through her shoulder. She grabbed the area, pulling her hand away to see blood coming from a slice – almost like that of a small arrow. Something on the ground caught her eye and she kneeled to find a feather. She picked it up. It was a grayish color, but when it caught the sun it gleamed gold, and when she turned it to the side, it was razor sharp.

“Oh, Styx.” 

It was as if her realization summoned the flock. Spinning on her heel, Thea spotted the treeline and ran for cover. It wasn’t great help though – Stymphalian birds are incredibly dangerous monsters. The mortals she ran past looked confused, but Thea paid them no mind, certain that the Mist would do its work. Thea tried not to be slowed down by the birds, even as their feathers slashed cuts in her skin. 

“One monster is bad enough, but a whole swarm? Really?” She muttered under her breath as she finally reached the trees.

Of course, it didn’t stop the birds from following her, but at least she wasn’t as obvious a target, and they couldn’t shoot their feathers from above.

“Okay, Thea. Think.” She said to herself.

“Defeating the Stymphalian birds was one of Hercules’ tasks. But he used brass bells from Athena – what am I supposed to do?” The girl thought out loud.

It was too little, too late. Some of the birds had found her. There weren't as many as before, but that hardly mattered. Pulling out her dagger, Thea really wished she had her sword. One of the birds flew close – it looked like a pigeon, but bigger, and stronger – and Thea swung at it. She knocked it aside before its bronze beak could grab her, but it was only stunned for a moment. It flew back toward her, gaining speed. A pigeon shouldn’t be as menacing as a peregrine falcon, but Thea was very afraid. 

This time, she had a better idea of what she was up against, and her aim held true. Her dagger sliced through the bird, turning it to golden ashes, though not before its feathers cut open new wounds on her hand.

A much worse pain shot through her abdomen. Thea looked down to find one of the other birds pecking, working its way through the skin of her stomach. She yelled, shoving forward her dagger with her injured hand, but another bird intercepted her, sending the dagger flying a few feet away.

If she made it out now, she would survive – the injuries weren’t too severe. But she was defenseless against the monsters, and she knew that without some loud noise to stop them, they would strip her to the bones.

Suddenly, a resonant boom sounded from inside the building, then a pause before more loud bangs. The lives of the ambassadors crossed her mind, but regardless, she had never been so grateful to hear a bomb and gunshots. 

A few of the birds startled, and went flying away. The other, still cutting up Thea’s flesh, stayed for a moment. The adrenaline Thea got from looking down at the wound gave her the energy to kick the bird away and scream. Fortunately, it was enough for the creature to fly away after its family.

Thea slumped against a tree. From where she lay, she could see into the building, though her vision was gradually blurring. Having not prepared for a monster attack, she didn’t have her typical supplies on her. Thea pulled off her partially shredded shirt, leaving her in her sports bra, and balled it up to put pressure on her jagged wound. Her energy was draining, and nectar and ambrosia would have to wait until after Kaldur and Red Arrow found her – if they even would. 

“What a way to go.” She muttered to herself in Greek, closing her eyes from the pain but trying to stay awake.

~~~

Fortunately for the young heroes, the guns Thea had heard did not maim the ambassadors, but rather an attacking Shadow. Sportsmaster and Cheshire had disappeared, but the treaty had been signed.

“I can't believe we just did a solid for Lex Luthor.” Red Arrow complained as he and Aqualad walked through the building.

“Not for Luthor, for peace.” Kaldur said, looking around for Thea and concluding that she must be outside.

“Beyond that, if Ra's and the League of Shadows wanted to sabotage the Summit, the signing of the treaty renders their contract moot. It is over.” He assured.

“Is it?” Red Arrow questioned as they stepped outside.

“I heard what Sportsmaster said. Do you really think there's a mole on your team feeding him intel?” 

“I cannot rule out the possibility.” Kaldur said diplomatically.

“I will investigate quietly.” He said.

“Not tell them?” Red Arrow asked, surprised.

“I do not want the unit unraveling over baseless suspicions. And if there is a mole, I have no wish to tip him or her off.” Kaldur explained.

“Good luck with that.” Red Arrow said with a salute, turning to walk away.

“One moment, my friend.” Kaldur said.

“Tonight, you could have called Green Arrow for help or the Justice League. Instead, your first instinct was to call the Cave.” He observed.

Red Arrow paused.

“You're right. The team deserves… has my respect.” Red Arrow admitted.

“I'm still getting used to this solo act stuff. But if you need me, I'll be there.” He said kindly, moving to shake Kaldur’s hand.

The boys stepped away from each other. Red Arrow stopped suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows, looking off past the fountain. Without saying anything to Kaldur, he broke into a run toward the treeline.

“Arrow?” Kaldur called after him, but the hero was too distracted and said nothing.

Kaldur, confused, followed after him.

~~~

Thea had remained awake, but was afraid to try to get up due to the injury in her side. She saw Kaldur and Red Arrow walking out of the building, but her voice was strained and she couldn’t yell to get their attention. As much as she had her issues with the man, when Red Arrow looked over in her direction, she was relieved.

He ran up to her, having spotted her before Kaldur. When he reached her he immediately scanned her body, seeing cuts across her arms and legs as well as whatever injury she was hiding with her shirt. 

“Holy shit, what happened?” He asked, kneeling next to her, lifting up her makeshift compress to view her injury before pushing it back down with more pressure.

Thea gasped at the sting.

“Did a Shadow do this to you?” He asked, concerned and confused.

She shook her head.

“Stymphalian birds.” She croaked.

“What?” The boy asked.

Thea smiled a little bit.

“Greek monsters – they’re like scary, flesh-eating pigeons.” She explained.

“Jesus.” Red Arrow muttered under his breath.

“Yeah.” The girl chuckled, moving to prop her arms behind her and pull herself up.

“Oh, hell no.” Red Arrow said, pushing her back down.

Kaldur came jogging up behind Red Arrow. His eyes widened with guilt and concern as he saw Thea in her condition.

“Thea…” He trailed off.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” The girl attempted to reassure though neither boy seemed convinced.

“We need to get you to the med bay.” Kaldur said, putting himself in leader mode to mitigate his distress.

“That’d be great.” Thea said, clenching her teeth as she shifted against the tree. 

“I’ll help.” Red Arrow said, leaving no room for argument.

The boys nodded at each other, each moving down to grab Thea under her shoulders.

They pulled her up, Red Arrow keeping pressure on her wound.

“Wait!” Thea said before they could start moving.

“My dagger, it’s right over there.” She said, pointing a little ways away.

Red Arrow shouldered all of Thea’s weight, and nodded at Kaldur who stepped away to pick up the girl’s weapon.

“Thank you.” Thea said, reaching out to grab it.

“I can hold onto it for now, let’s just get you back to the cave.”

With Red Arrow and Kaldur both supporting her, the three young heroes hobbled back to the zeta tube.

“This is where I leave you. At least, assuming you’ve got it from here. If you need me, I can stay.” Red Arrow said.

“We’ll manage.” Kaldur told him and Thea confirmed with a nod.

“Arrow!” She called as the archer began to walk away.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely.

The boy smiled.

“You’re welcome.” He said.

“And, Thea? You can call me Roy.”

~~~

Kaldur had carried Thea to the med bay in the cave, helped her dress the wound in her side, and after some discussion, even got her to sit down on a gurney. The girl protested, but after seeing the worry in Kaldur’s eyes, she agreed. 

“I got what you asked for.” Kaldur said as he walked back into the room, carrying Thea’s satchel.

“Thank you.” She smiled, reaching into the bag to pull out a small flask and a ziplock with small, yellow cubes.

Grabbing a piece of ambrosia, Thea took a bite. Closing her eyes, she savored the taste of her dad’s homemade sourdough. It had been a long time since she had seen – or had wanted to see – her father, but the taste never failed to make her feel at home.

Kaldur smiled at the peaceful look on Thea’s face before getting up to grab some disinfectant and cloth to clean the cuts on her arms and legs. Thea swallowed her bite and opened her eyes to watch Kaldur. In some ways, it reminded her of times she got stuck in the Apollo cabin with injuries. Kaldur’s gentleness, though, made the moment far more tranquil.

Kaldur held Thea’s wrist gently as he wiped the antiseptic over the cuts on her arm. He had a small frown on his face as he worked. Thea knew that look.

“I’m okay, Kaldur.” She murmured softly, looking at her injuries, not meeting his eyes.

Kaldur sighed gently. 

“I know that you will recover. But I am still upset to see you injured, especially from an unsanctioned mission I convinced you to go on.” He mutters, a hint of self-loathing seeping into his tone. Thea grabbed his wrist gently, halting his movements. She looked up at him.

“It isn’t your fault, Kaldur. My injuries have nothing to do with the mission. This is just a… occupational hazard, I guess. Courtesy of being a demigod. I’m fine.” She insisted quietly.

Kaldur was unconvinced.

“You should have called for help. We would have helped. I…” He trailed off, unable to articulate his thoughts.

Thea sighed gently.

“I know you would have helped me. Of course you would have.” Thea reassured. “I just… I was being stupid. I forgot that I had comms in. I’m still… I’m still not used to this whole ‘having back up’ thing.” She chuckled weakly. “Usually when you get cornered by a monster… you’re on your own.” She said sadly.

Kaldur paused, face softening at her words. Thea let go of his wrist and he resumed cleaning her cuts, mulling over his next words.

“I understand that. It is… quite the transition. Learning how to work with a team.” He acknowledged softly. “But you’re not on your own.” He concluded, voice gentle but firm.

Thea smiled up at him, letting him maneuver her arm to reach her scrapes and cuts. 

“No. Not anymore.” She agreed.