#so it's gonna take a while! hope you understand

[bloggerspam]

So I know i said four, but it turns out there's gonna be an epilogue too. Because again, I'm a dirty fucking liar.

ANYWAY hope ya'll enjoy the finale in the meantime! it is a CHONKER.

===

Damian arrives in Gotham with little fanfare. 

Meeting his father is…an experience. 

As he is with Mother, Damian follows her lead and stands at attention while they talk.

Hearing her call him Beloved is jarring, but understandable. Watching Batman freeze at his presence, how his entire body tightens through Mother's introduction of him. He observes the infamous Batman's micro expressions—surprise, anger, a handful of other emotions he's not entirely familiar with. He is, Damian is sure, doubtful about his heritage. Damian does not blame him, and continues to eye his so-called father from top to bottom.

There is not much to The Batman.

He's taller than Mother by a scant inch or two, his shoulders broad. He has a strong jaw, and though it is too early to know with certainty, Damian's jaw is squarer than Mother's, so this must be the origin.

He knows he has his mother's eyes, and darker skin tone, but he has no idea what he's inherited from Father beyond possibly his jaw. The cowl does give him much to work on, which he supposes is the point.

The talk is simple.

Damian's life is in danger, he will be here temporarily, and Mother will pick him up at a later date.

Other than the life-threatening aspect of it, it is a fairly mundane conversation that any divorced mother and father would have regarding dropping off their child.

Not that Mother and Batman ever married, as far as he knows.

He realizes now that the oft used insult, "bastard" is accurate for him. Somehow, that amuses him to no end.

Mother and Batman are having a silent conversation now, and though Damian is loathe to be left out of a conversation, he understands that perhaps dropping sudden news of a child he never knew existed would require some time to process. Nevermind that said child is closer to a clone with two donors, as opposed to the actual children Batman seems to have.

Damian had a whole month, he can give his father more than a couple of minutes.

He focuses on their surroundings instead, eyeing his temporary home. Gotham is bleak, foggy, and though there are lights aplenty in these many windows, they are dim and small.

But Gotham looks endless, the edges of her are blurred from the fog and the murky waters give off the slight smell of salt, tempering the smog.

She's beautiful, imposing, even with all the cracks and crumble, because of it, even.

She has Gargoyles adorning her buildings, protectors, reminding him of another protector—he cuts off that thought and focuses beyond, instead.

There's another person, two rooftops away, eyeing them and hiding in the shadows, and another atop a building further away.

He tracks them both, watches as they converge.

One of them waves to him.

He does not wave back.

Batman twitches, as if hearing something in the middle of his heated and whispered conversation with Mother, and Damian realizes this must be his father's cohorts.

The other, permanent, children who have taken up the Batman mission the way Damian will take up the League's mission. Batman must have some kind of communication device with them.

Damian watches as another shadow joins the other two. Then another.

He squints, trying to recall how many children his father collected altogether. Will they all come to ogle him?

"Beloved." The tone of Mother's voice has Damian standing to attention, ignoring his nosy…siblings, "If you do not wish to reveal your precious identity to him, place him in a safehouse. I assure you, as long as he is in your domain, he can take care of himself."

Damian looks his father in the eyes, as best he can, to convey how capable he is. Damian, frankly, is still at a loss on what to do with a father, much less an abundance of apparent siblings. Living alone in a safehouse, albeit boring and quiet, might be boon.

He puffs out his chest, and smirks placidly, confidence oozing from his pores like he was borne with it (he wasn't, he wasn't, but he was borne capable, at least). It feels childish, but Robin was childish, and Damian has not yet outgrown his antics, despite his best attempts.

Batman crouches, and it is hard to tell through the white lens of the cowl, but Damian thinks he is search for something. His eyes snag on places Damian is unsure the significance of: his ears, his chin, his brow.

Damian obediently waits for judgement, trying to ignore the shadowy shape of his collected siblings jumping and flipping and changing shape in apparent glee.

For some reason, a number of hands shoot up, as if to say hi, one of the shapes standing up and tall and urging them to put them down.

He's so distracted by it, a foolish mistake, he misses Batman reaching up, misses the rustle of the cape and the unbuckling and zips.

The shadows hoot and holler before shooting off, one by one into a distance Damian can't even begin to guess. One of them, the same shadow from before, waves delicately at him before they turn to go.

He blinks.

Damian supposes inheriting his father's eyebrows and nose isn't too bad of a deal.

Besides, pretty as his father's blue eyes are, Mother's green definitely suits him better.

===

The Wayne Manor is large, and imposing.

It looks manicured, well-kept and picturesque.

But Gotham, true to its reputation, is ominous and there is no other way to say it: Gothic.

Wayne Manor, despite its photoshoot ready landscaping, still looks like it belongs here, on this high hilled cliff and formidable height.

Father does not speak a word to Damian the entire ride there.

Damian suspects he is also at a loss for what to say.

Like Father like Son.

The Bat-mobile drives like a dream, rumbling through the streets with ease despite it's very long silhouette.

Entering the Bat-Cave was easy, but getting subsequently swarmed by siblings was definitively not.

He is crowded by questions, many of which Damian ignores, and is assaulted by hands reaching to pat him or shake his hand or what-have-you.

Damian dodges all of them, cataloguing what little he knows. As a butler who introduces himself as Alfred Pennyworth offers him refreshments. He refuses, and does not let the man take his duffle.

Your Father has many children, Habibi, Mother had said on the way to Gotham. Memorize their names, be amiable. Do not pry.

Nightwing flips into a chair, calls himself Richard "Dick" Grayson.

Spoiler and Blackbat lean against each other, introducing the other between giggles and laughter as Stephanie Brown and Cassandra "Cass" Cain.

Robin stands hunched over a cup of coffee, the name jolting Damian into an anger so misplaced it must be back at the Compound.

The older teen is distrustful, and does not unmask until it is basically ripped off him by Spoiler—Brown. This caution, and the clear difference in stature and face from the figure in his memories, soothes Damian at a speed the Batmobile might be jealous of. Damian can appreciate competence when he sees it, at least.

You are not here to cause trouble, Mother had said, You are here to stay safe.

Robin is a common name. Grayson implied that it's inherited. A mantle. Damian will have to get used to it. He is not here to cause trouble.

The distrustful teen is summarily introduced as Timothy "Tim" Drake-Wayne. Damian wonders if Drake or Wayne would be appropriate, or if he will insist on the hyphen.

Two sets of footsteps, one thumping rapidly down and another sedate, echo through the cave.

The first to arrive is an older teen, perhaps more accurately a young man, of African descent, clad in a gray pajama ensemble sporting Gotham University on the chest. Duke Thomas, the man behind the one and only day time hero in Gotham, Signal.

And then the second set, the heavy boot falls trailing lazily behind, steps into view.

Damian's entire world freezes, for just a moment.

It’s Robin. He knows it’s Robin—but how? There’s a white tuft to his shiny black hair that wasn’t there before, and he’s paler now—as pale as he was when Damian first saw him as a teen, before he filled out, before he started tanning under the sun with Damian—

“Who’s the kid?” Damian jerks at the sound—that was, what was that? Instantly, he is climbing Robin and gripping at the older man’s face, pressing into the joint of the man’s jaw, where it meets the neck.

“You can speak?” Damian gruffly demands, ignoring the large hand pushing at him. Damian slaps it away, ignores it—if Robin wanted him off, he would be off by now.

“What the fu–get off!” Robin demands, grabbing at Damian’s waist to pry him off. Damian is more focused on the vibrations he felt when the man spoke—so it was psychosomatic. 

It makes sense, his mind was rapidly deteriorating, but Robin’s body was the epitome of healthy and hale. Something must have happened, that night Robin left—during the argument Mother had with them. Damian ruminates on this as he is placed on his feet when suddenly, realization washes over him.

This is Robin. Robin who—Damian whips up, startling the man into stepping back a step. Robin with the jagged scar running from his temple to his lip, Robin with familiar hands and warmth, Robin who—who isn’t dead or in a far off place, who left. 

Robin who abandoned him.

“Of course I can fu—” Robin darts a glance at Pennyworth, before coughing, “Yes. I can speak. You know me or something?” 

Damian stiffens under the calculating gaze Robin gives him, but does not otherwise react, simply turns away with a grit to his jaw and the white hot feeling of humiliation crawling up his spine.

He’s better than this. He got better. Robin being here, walking, talking and, and not recognizing him changes nothing. 

He is here temporarily. This too, shall pass. 

Perhaps, Mother had said, This is an opportunity for you to…relax. Heal from…certain wounds.

"No." Damian lies. "I was mistaken." Nobody in the room believes him, but it does not matter. Did Mother know?

His father introduces his second eldest brother as Jason Todd, otherwise known as Red Hood.

Robin–-no, Todd eyes him through furrowed brow and distrustful eyes, an expression entirely new to Damian, grumbling out a confused but threatening "Stay outta Crime Alley and we'll work just fine."

Damian nods to show he understands, despite not understanding at all. He turns towards Pennyworth instead, shouldering his duffle and straightening up. "My quarters, if you would."

Pennyworth inclines his head with a raised eyebrow, but does not further comment.

The old man leads the way, and this time, Damian leaves Robin behind.

It is not as cathartic as he was hoping it would be.

===

Damian is learning the lay of the land. 

That is to say, he is snooping. 

But if Damian is to pass his term here safely and quietly, he must know the layout of the Manor, and which places are most frequented. 

He refuses to be caught off guard once more. 

Someone is tailing him, but it is of no consequence; it would be stranger if his actions weren’t monitored.

The movements are familiar somehow, but even so he knows instinctively that it is not Rob—Todd, so it matters not. 

The underground level seems to be filled with various entertainment areas, which hold no real interest to him, beyond the Gym and Indoor Pool areas. He makes note to figure out the residents’ schedules as soon as possible in order to limit contact.

The first floor seems to hold the most traffic, so he takes note of the most used areas: the Library is gorgeous, the Dining Room immaculate, whilst the Sun Room and Living Room see the most traffic. There are traces of the other residents everywhere—picture frames and little knick knacks littered tastefully and neatly around the shelves that decorate the rooms, keys in a bowl on a side table here, shoes that have been neatly lined up in tucked away corners, even a book or two that have personalized bookmarks tucked into them. 

It is impressive for one man to keep this much order in such a large estate housing a good many residents that come and go as they please—the Compound was maybe twice and big and it employs numerous servants just to keep the kitchens in a serviceable state. Perhaps Pennyworth hires people on a schedule, so that the residents know when to avoid the Manor and limit the possibility of revealing secrets? Damian puts it out of his mind and heads back to explore the second floor more thoroughly instead.

There are a plethora of rooms here, though most of them seem to be bedrooms. The Compound had housing areas, he knows, but he was always kept separate and had never explored those areas for his own safety and disinterest. He doesn’t linger long, lest he be accused of rifling through other’s affairs. It is curious that the person trailing him hasn’t said anything, but then again—Damian is simply opening doors and closing them when it’s confirmed to be a bedroom. 

Just as he is wondering if the entire second floor is comprised of bedrooms, he comes across a study. He leaves the door open as he wanders in, examining the books on the large floor to ceiling bookshelf built into the back wall. 

The office space is immaculate, and the books vary from medical tomes to business manuals to even travel guides of varying languages. What really catches Damian’s eye is a middle shelf that seems to be dedicated to…paraphernalia of a very familiar variety.

He reaches up to touch the garish orange paint of a very familiar RC car, tracing the number one decal on its side. There’s a trilby too, gray with a wide black ribbon trim, and a pair of bright blue lensed goggles sitting right next to it in an artful display. There is even a clearly fake gun settled on a stand with a glass cloche over it. The items are framed by a plethora of DVD cases, and Damian slowly pulls out the case labeled “1” on its side with hesitant fingers. 

Bright yellow and familiar, albeit larger than he’s used to seeing it, lay the words GRAY GHOST on the dark red cover. In the corner, a man’s face he’s only seen in the form of a figurine is pasted on. 

“Favorite Series.” A soft, raspy voice says from over his shoulder. Damian does not flinch, because he knew someone was there, but he is still surprised by how he could not hear her footsteps, could not feel her come this close. Those are League steps, League movements, he recognizes.

“Pardon?” He looks up at his stalker, Cassandra Cain, if he recalls her name correctly, and raises an eyebrow in question as he wonders absently if they've ever crosses paths. He recalls faintly of a Cain skulking around the Compound…

“Gray Ghost. Favorite Series.” She says again, eyes glinting with curiosity despite not actually asking a question, seeming amused by his expression for some reason. It's enough to bring him back to the present, to the tableau before him.

“Whose?” Damian asks, sliding the DVD back in its place.

“Bruce’s.” That brings Damian up short, making him stutter in place. 

“I see.” A swirl of emotions flood through him but he does not let it show. Did Mother know? Of course she would. Is that why? 

“Yours too?” Cain tilts her head, tracing a finger along the cases with a blank smile. It reminds him of Robin, so he wrenches his gaze away. 

“No. I have never seen it.” Damian says truthfully, stalking away and deciding that he is done exploring. He knows enough. “I will be retiring now, Cain. You are relieved of your duties.”

His room is only just down the hall, four doors away, and it is a blessing. He hears the study door snick closed just as he opens his, but he does not close his door fast enough. 

The last thing he hears are actual footsteps, and Cain’s low, sad voice. “Not here to monitor. Safe.” 

He does not believe her, but he does not refute her either. 

He closes the door.

===

Pennyworth seems to have the run of the Manor, so Damian seeks him out first.

The older man seems to find him amusing, but Damian grits his teeth and uses his manners.

Mother had said he was to learn, to not make trouble, to be safe.

Naturally, assisting Pennyworth in the care of the Manor would be in his best interest.

Not only will it allow him run of the Manor, he will also be privy to the resident's schedules and preferences through simple observations.

Like any mission, information is key to survival.

Pennyworth must surely see through him, but his amused smile seems to convey that he will indulge.

He starts with simple tasks.

He learns how to properly wash dishes, the ratio of detergent to use when doing single loads of laundry, proper procedure for cleaning furniture, and how to cook eggs 6 different ways.

Damian absorbs the information like a sponge, easy and quick, and Pennyworth seems impressed.

Damian graduates to Kitchen Helper within two weeks, apparently high praise in the Manor. Food begins to taste again.

He learns that some residents have been banned, and feels a certain smugness flood through him as he cooks his first Chicken Pot Pie.

Three weeks later than that, Damian learns that the residents of the Manor have no consistent schedule, are picky with food, and like to be hindrances to Pennyworth's work. To Damian's work.

It takes him an extra week to do something about that, enough to at least make the other children hesitate before they enter rooms, but nobody can prove anything so Damian will not dwell on it.

Damian has been at the Manor for two months when he realizes something significant:

Todd has not been by the Manor once.

Damian does not sulk, but if he did, that's no-one's business except his, and the bear and figurine hidden away in his bag.

===

Father is busy, constantly, whether it be for Wayne Enterprises, for the Justice League, or for his copious number of children.

Father tries to spend time with all of them, in some way, and it is admirable.

Damian is not sure how he factors. He is technically a clone, after all, but he has heard that Superman has a clone, so maybe it's a non-issue.

Still, having a Father is a new experience to Damian.

His erstwhile…siblings are another matter entirely, but he is, at least, used to deal with nuisances.

They call him Demon Brat, and he knows that they do not mean it literally.

He wonders, in the back of his mind, what Robin would have called him.

He wonders, in the darkest parts of his mind, what Damian would have called them.

(Deep within the recesses of his mind, beneath the dark, almost six feet under, he knows what it would have been. He knows.)

But a Father is new.

"How was your day, chum?" Father asks one night at the dinner table.

There is a long silence before Damian looks up from his plate of seafood risotto in irritated confusion, wondering why Drake isn't answering.

Drake, however, isn't looking at Father. The other boy looks, per usual, a tone-deaf lullaby away from falling asleep.

Damian's brows furrow, glancing at the other members of the table. Cain is smiling at him, encouragingly, head tilted like a bird. Father, equally, is smiling at Damian as well.

Ah. So he is the chum in this situation.

He wonders if Father nicknames all his male children chum, and all his female children sweetheart.

Damian looks up from his plate in confusion, but answers dutifully nonetheless.

"I assisted Pennyworth with his duties," Damian reports, "Mostly with kitchen work, as I do not have much experience with the other areas."

Father hums, but still looks expectant. More detail then. He straightens up, trying to remember how he talked to his Mother when she asked, but he does not have missions to report here, and Robin…

"I have not done anything else, Father." Damian says carefully, unsure if this was on purpose or some kind of miscommunication in the line of order, "No-one has given me any tasks but Pennyworth."

There's a long silence, Cain stiffening up, eyeing Father in a way that Damian isn't sure if he should be offended by.

Does Father need protecting? Mother did not, but she—she liked it when Damian created a united front with her. What is his role here?

"Sweetheart," Father begins, before stutter stopping to think his words through.

Damian waits, thinking distantly that perhaps Father only has two petnames for his children, and uses them intermittently.

"No tasks. Free." Cain cuts in vehemently.

"This isn't the League." Drake mumbles, stuffing his face with more risotto.

Damian tilts his head, as Cain does, before looking to his father for clarification. He does not understand. Father coughs, clearing his throat.

"Sweetheart," Father tries again, "There is no mission here for you to pursue. You can spend your time as you like."

"I enjoy assisting Pennyworth." Damian informs them, because he does.

"He's talking about hobbies, Demon Brat." Drake rolls his eyes, leaning forward to rest his cheek upon the hand he's not using to eat more risotto, "What did you do in your free time at the League?"

Did his best to survive.

"I trained." Damian says instead, which is the same thing. With Robin, he doesn't say. The year after they left was filled with unwelcome assassins, missions, and constantly moving rooms. "Or I slept."

Silence permeates the dinner table.

"We find out," Cain finally says, gripping her spoon like a knife, "Learn."

"But not tonight." Father agrees, making an unfamiliar expression. He remembers Mother making this kind of face when she gave Damian his bear. She made it many times, when Robin was around.

Drake eyes him almost pityingly. "Dick's going to eat you alive."

===

Grayson does not, in fact, eat Damian alive.

Damian does, however, accidentally stab him.

Lightly.

On the thigh.

"Do not," Damian admonishes, "Touch me without permission."

"Sorry about that, baby bird!" Grayson chirps as he is bandaged by Pennyworth.

"Apology accepted. I do not wish to accidentally kill one of you."

Drake scoffs, but does not look up from his tablet. As usual, he drags bags under his eyes and looks like a fright.

Cain, Brown, and Thomas chat amicably around them, uncaring, more concerned about the clipboard Grayson had brought and going through the seemingly endless pages.

Damian glances over, and notices they are activities.

"What is this, then?" Damian crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a list of possible hobbies!" Grayson beams, "We've got most of the stuff to do any of them on there, so I thought we could go through and try 'em."

Damian looks at the stacks of papers again. "It is unrealistic for you to think we could more than five."

This time, the trio perusing the list scoff.

"We could get through at least eleven, easy." Brown says, grabbing a pen from somewhere to mark something down.

"Nah, twenty, max." Thomas challenges, stealing the pen to cross something out.

"Twenty-seven." Cain says, taking one of the papers and ripping it up entirely.

"Bet?" Brown responds.

"Patrol for 3 days?" Thomas goads.

"Condiment Man." Cain counters.

The trio shake on it.

Damian wonders what information, exactly, enables them to make such precise and specific numbers.

Even if all of them are wrong, he still wants to know.

===

They get through thirty-four different hobbies.

Whilst Damian was good at most of them, he simply did not have time to consider whether or not he wanted to continue such hobbies.

The fact that he indulged them at all is a miracle.

When Mother had said try to make the best of your time in Gotham, surely she did not mean this.

Brown, Cain, Grayson, and Thomas head towards the dining room loudly discussing possibilities for him, but Damian does not indulge that.

He slows and keeps pace with Drake instead, in the quiet.

"Any of them strike your fancy?" The older teen asks, ruining what little positive feelings Damian may have had for him.

For the most part Drake had supervised, unlike the other four, largely staying a little ways away and working on that tablet of his. Whilst Damian hadn't exactly enjoyed being thrust into a variety of activities, he did appreciate that Drake did not inundate him with questions and comments like the others had.

"No." Damian answers, before thinking carefully once more. "I don't know."

"We didn't exactly give you much time to think on it." Drake agrees.

"I am just glad that it is over." Mumbling is uncouth, but Damian has learned that his siblings are uncouth, so he will match their energy, as Brown says.

Drake laughs, a honking one that startles Damian enough for him to abortedly reach for a dagger. Damian has never heard Drake make such a loud noise before.

"Today was the kinesthetic hobbies, Damian." Drake's face is doing something new—smiling wide and grin a little sharp, "Tomorrow, it's the creative outlets."

Damian does not swear. but it's a near thing.

He goes to dinner feeling resigned and defeated in a way he hasn't felt in a year and 3 months, Drake's laughter ringing in his ears like a death knell.

===

Todd joins for the festivities the next day, dragged kicking and screaming by the ear, metaphorically.

Mostly metaphorically, Damian amends, as he watches Todd kick Grayson squarely in the gut to let him go.

For the most part, Todd stands sentinel behind the group, grumbling and insisting he is not part of the activities.

He is not fooling anyone.

He has opinions on every little thing they do—acting, papier-mâché, clay sculpting, jewelry making, sewing, knitting, crochet—snide little things that mostly offer advice if you listen hard enough.

Damian is ashamed to note that he listens with a rabbit's ear and a dog's attention.

His origami dragon suffers from the frustration of it.

They go through 24 different 'creative' hobbies, all of which Damian excels, for the most part.

But they do not, as Brown insists, spark joy.

It isn't until they pass by one of the libraries in the Manor that Todd offhandedly wonders aloud, "Does the tyke even read?" that it occurs to them that they completely skipped a multitude of simple common hobbies.

Damian follows Todd, feeling an odd deja vu in a sort of reversed order, through the stacks as he plops down book upon book into his arms, commenting on the genre and general tone of his one, extolling a fact or two about each new author.

The rest of them lounge around an group of armchairs, clearly used to Todd's voracious reading list.

By the time Todd is finished with him, there are 12 books in his arms, stacked tall enough to warrant Damian leaning it on his shoulder for balance.

"So how is this gonna go," Thomas quirks a brow, "We gonna just sit here and read?"

The long silence is enough for all of them to realize this might be a hobby better suited for Damian to try on his own.

It's a mad shuffle then, Brown rushing everyone on to try their hand at painting.

It isn't until after they've dropped off the stack of books in Damian's room that he realizes Todd has taken the opportunity to abscond from the festivities, Cain informing him that Todd had a sudden case

Damian ignores the familiar feeling in his chest that feels like a canyon opening up.

He focuses on the smell of acrylic paint, and the feel of pencil across canvas instead.

It mostly works.

===

Damian is in the Cave, watching.

There is an older teen sitting in front of a large console—the BatComputer, a ridiculous but apt name—and typing away with the sort of single minded haggardness Damian has seen in men twice his age and with more to lose.

Timothy Drake-Wayne, from what Damian has learned, fought his way to the Robin Mantle.

The slovenly teen fought through sweat and tears, bullying Father into so-called 'ethical vigilantism,' went toe-to-toe with Todd and managed to survive, and as a result?

Timothy Drake-Wayne is doggedly working away, with little sleep, on a case for Todd in Crime Alley.

Since finding out, Damian, predictably, has started to hate him with every single fibre of his being.

"What are you doing here?" Drake mutters, not looking away from the monitors that dwarf him.

Damian doesn't answer. He is not here to make trouble, not when his stay is temporary, but he reminds himself that he is also not here to make nice. He stays right where he is.

Drake heaves a heavy sigh, pinching his brows together and rubbing his eyes with a gloved hand. Disgusting.

"Damian." The blue of the monitors wash Drake out, make him saturated, makes the bags under his eyes and the tiredness in his muscles stand out in stark contrast.

"I am observing." Damian finally huffs, "Temporary though my stay may be, I am not accustomed to being…inactive."

"Last month's hobby search wasn't active enough for you?" Drake chuckles.

Damian huffs, but does not answer.

"I thought you liked painting?" Drake asks softly, though he's still not looking over at him, "And the books?"

"I do." Damian begrudgingly answers. His fingers twitch, even now, for a brush. "But I've done nothing but painting and reading since."

And Todd's the only one who Damian can actually talk about the books to, Damian doesn't say, and he hasn't seen Todd since the books were given to him.

He crosses his arms against the feeling, muttering, "Pennyworth will not give me anymore tasks until the contractors have finished up their renovations of the Garden."

Drake seems to think on that for a moment, quirking a little smile. "So you're bored, and want to play."

"I am being wasted." Damian corrects, bristling. Drake seems to find that amusing, and though it boils his blood, he can use this to his advantage. He makes a show of crossing his arms and doing an approximation of a pout. "And training only gets you so far before you get rusty."

After a moment's pause where he seems to think for a moment, Drake finally relents. "I'm about to head to Crime Alley. Do you…want to come along?"

What is that American saying? Right: Hook, line, and sinker.

===

"Keep up." Drake says as he shoots a grapple line.

Damian scoffs, but does so with less grappling and more parkour.

There's chatter on the comms he was given, Brown and Lee conversing about some college professor, the occasional taptap from who Damian suspects is Cain, the smooth timbre of Gordan directing one vigilante or other towards some destination Damian doesn't care too much about.

When they arrive at the meeting point, Todd isn't alone.

That is, Red Hood has unpleasant company in three muggers and a victim who is told to run away.

Thankfully, they do.

Drake, Robin jumps into the fray.

Damian hangs back, as is customary for guests tagging along on missions.

He watches Hood dispatch one of the muggers swiftly, careful of the knife they wield but overall unbothered.

Drake is engaged with the largest of the bunch, for some reason, and Hood is already turning towards the third, who has a gun up and ready to shoot.

Reflex from hundreds of missions causes Damian to join, despite it being against his own protocol.

He hooks a finger through the metal loop at the end of his kunai and tosses it unerringly at the mugger's wrist. The mugger screams loudly as they drop the gun, Red Hood kicking it under a nearby dumpster to no doubt pick it up later. The former Robin eats up the distance with his significant height, quickly wrestling the mugger into a set of zipties.

"Aim for weapons, Demon Brat, not for limbs." Drake's voice admonishes. Damian ignores the words but looks over to where Drake is engaging the other mugger, using his bo staff to trip them up and jabbing them in the shoulder to spin them face first into the concrete.

"Hypocrite." Damian scoffs under his breath. He feels a presence behind him, and ducks the arms that tried to grab him to choke him out, hooking another kunai out and stabbing swiftly downward into the thigh of a surprise fourth mugger. Tt. Now where did this one come from?

The dolt screams right in his ear, making Damian jab his elbow out into the man's neck to shut him up.

"Nice." Hood laughs, holstering his guns and giving the mugger another kick before putting him in zipties to join his friend. The praise washes over him, familiar and unfamiliar at once. He stretches up, as if waiting for a pat on the head, before he even realizes what he's doing.

Hood gives him an odd look, and Damian immediately hates his body and wishes swift death to his memories.

He was over this.

Resolutely ignoring Hood, Damian looks over towards Drake, who is sluggishly dragging the second mugger over. Hood takes pity on him, and grabs the guy by the collar, tossing him effortlessly into the pile.

And then Drake tilts, and Hood picks him up by the collar.

Rage is familiar, and Damian almost—almost reaches for another kunai.

But he is not here to cause trouble.

They make their way to the nearest safehouse, Todd and Drake bantering and bickering in a way only siblings ever can, familiar and assured of each other's place in the other's lives.

Damian stays silent, both unwilling and incapable of adding in, as he watches Todd wrap up Drake's injury smooth, familiar movements. As if second nature.

Damian reaches over to help undress Drake and redress him in civilian clothes, in preparation for Pennyworth picking them up in a town car later, but is summarily told to handle his own clothing change instead.

Logically, he understands. Both of them are more familiar with the intricacies of the Robin uniform and its various belts and buckles than Damian is, and there is that American saying, too many cooks in the kitchen, after all.

Logically, he understands, of course.

It still does not take away the sting of it..

Perhaps this is an opportunity for you to…relax. Mother's voice echoes once more. Heal from…certain wounds.

Damian trails along behind Todd, who is carrying a sullen and loudly complaining Drake to the car.

He stays silent the entire car ride home, pondering unseen wounds and the best method of healing.

===

Todd is sleeping in the library.

It is Sunday, and Grayson has tricked him into coming to Sunday Brunch.

It was a noisy affair, rambunctious and happy.

Damian had tried to stay out of it, being an outsider, but mostly failed on account of Cain and Brown's insistent meddling. There was a newcomer, Barbara Gordon, who doubled as Oracle, that Damian tried his best to be amicable to as well.

Todd had joined in on the entire affair, albeit a little more subdued, jibing at Grayson and tossing grapes at Drake with frightening accuracy.

Afterwards, the other children started scattering in groups. Todd had disappeared by that point, and whilst Damian had wanted to follow suit, he was commandeered by Grayson to get ice cream along with Thomas and Drake.

The only other option was to play board games with the women, but Damian was told he was 'a stinky boy' so he stayed out of it.

Ice cream was not a quiet outing either, and by the time they get back to the Manor Damian is more exhausted than when he had run two missions back to back in Syria.

So here he is now: Simply wanting the second book in a trilogy that Todd had given him, and staring at the man himself, guilelessly sleeping in the library.

The older man is being foolish, letting his guard down this way. Damian can see at least 8 different ways he could kill him, just from where he is standing at the entrance of the library, 15 feet away from where Todd has taken up residence.

The number goes up as he walks closer, to about fourteen.

Damian is standing right next to where Todd has decided to rest, and the older man has not so much even twitched.

There are 29 different ways Damian can kill Todd from this distance, with just his hands.

He drops to his knees, staring at the familiar planes of Robin's face.

He reaches, almost involuntarily, to…to do something. What, he does not know.

Robin grunts, familiar. It's a deep sleep. Even if Todd does not know Damian, Robin remembers he is safe.

Damian drops his hand, thinking without thoughts. He stares at Todd, arms crosses and snoring softly, leaning against the armchair with a book open on his lap. Why he simply does not sit in the chair itself and chooses the floor, Damian has no idea.

There is a blanket, almost kicked off, covering Todd's foot.

Damian stares, having an out of body experience.

Robin makes that noise, again, the grunt.

Damian reaches over to adjust the blanket, curling up with it, remembering the bear and figure in his room.

Robin has always been warm, even when they weren't touching, Damian remembers the heat of them radiating the way it does now, where Damian is only a few inches away.

He curls in tighter, listens to the familiar sounds of Robin asleep next to him, floor hard with only a single blanket between them, just like a mission.

In his memories, it is his watch.

In the present, his eyes fall closed.

Just for a moment.

===

Damian wakes up alone, with the second book tucked in his arms and a jacket that isn't his draped over him.

Alfred the Cat is purring in a curled up ball next to him, where Todd once was.

Damian tries not to feel alone, and mostly succeeds, as he follows Alfred's lead and curls up under Todd's jacket as best he can.

Always remember, Habibi. Mother's words flood through him as he tries to keep the warmth around him, I will support you, even as the world comes crashing down.

He falls back asleep within seconds.

===

Damian is running an errand for Pennyworth when the other shoe, proverbially, drops.

He swerves past a mother and child, turning a corner to walk quickly into an isolated alley. He turns quickly, swatting the knife that cuts through the air towards him, kicking up at the assassin that has come to prey upon him.

Eyes had been following him for the past thirty minutes, and it's shameful how long it took to realize it wasn't one of his siblings keeping an eye on him.

He dances with the assailant, still in top form despite the less intensive training schedule Father had allowed, parrying each slash with his own dagger.

He gets a foot jammed into his shin, but easily turns it into one of those front rolling somersaults Grayson had jokingly added to this repertoire.

He grabs the bo staff Drake had stuffed into his pocket and uncollapses it, tripping the the assailant from his vantage point below and subsequently bashing their head to unconsciousness.

He jabs the staff into the back of the neck, standing on their back to keep them down. He doesn't have any zipties, so he quickly sends out a text to Gordan for help in dispatch.

Of course, because this family is nosy beyond compare, his phone starts to flood with messages of concern, quickly devolving into who has what bingo, and who bet on when the first assassin would come.

Damian shakes his head, amused despite himself, and tries to keep up.

The click of a gun startles him into movement, and it's then that he realizes he's made two mistakes.

One: He didn't check if the assassin was alone.

Two: He's accidentally run into Crime Alley territory.

A rough hand pushes him to the ground before two gunshots shatter the air, one after another.

When he turns around, Red Hood is on the floor bleeding, and it is all Damian's fault.

He quickly confirms the other assailant is down—they are—and takes extra care in making sure that they are alone before running over to Todd.

He takes off his jacket, bunches it up to press against the wound with one hand, taking out his phone to apprise Gordan of the situation. It's difficult, he did not realize both his hands had been bloody, and slippery.

"I know you." Todd suddenly says, teal eyes clearing from its painful fog, haze cut through with a clarity Damian doesn't like.

Damian scoffs, pressing down more firmly wit heavily trained, steady hands. "Tt. Of course you know me, I've been here for—"

"No—no, don't—don't do that." Todd growls, clutching at his head with his less bloody hand, "I know you. We…I…I took care of you. We've been here before."

"Robin took care of me, and I took care of them." Damian sneers, involuntary in his stupid, stupid panic, "You and I have no such history."

"I am Robin. Was." Todd stutters, before piercing Damian with his gaze. A knife would have been better. "What am I missing?"

Damian says nothing, focusing on finishing up first aid, comm'ing into the other Bats and Birds for extraction. He's already said too much, and he is only here temporarily.

Todd's voice goes low. "What did Talia not tell me?"

Damian, he reminds himself, is not here to cause trouble.

===

Damian is not a coward.

Damian is not a coward, but he does pick his battles.

He's learned to, had his teeth metaphorically pulled bit by bit when Robin was a fixture in his life. It was easy to learn loss, in his three years with Robin. To take it with grace, to let go.

It was hard the first time, and it was hard again the last time, but just as he always does Damian learned.

All this to say, Damian knows a losing battle when he sees one.

Todd is as stubborn as Robin was—or perhaps, Robin was as stubborn as Todd is—and Damian is too experienced with losing against Robin and not experienced enough to thwart Todd, and so he is not a coward.

Damian is avoiding Todd.

It is strategic.

Fate is on his side, anyway. As Todd has been busy being accosted by the other residents of the Manor to properly rest and heal. It's been a good week: peaceful and Todd-free. Even his siblings have been busy with one thing or another—a final, a Wayne Enterprises meeting, dealing with Father, vigilante business here or there.

Mother had even sent word that she had taken care of most of the assassins after him, that this incident helped weed out the insurgents enough for Mother to get a firm foothold of power that even Grandfather cannot deny.

Overall, Damian is safe. Or, at least, lulled into thinking he was safe.

All this to say Damian completely forgets that Todd is not the only Robin in this Manor.

He also completely forgets that the current Robin is a nosy, meddling, piece of—

"Calling me names will not get you out of this conversation." Drake's irritating voice interrupts him, tiredly.

"This is none of your business, Drake." Damian huffs from where he hangs upside down in the Bat Cave. His ankle is starting to hurt, and the blood is flooding to his head, but he's been through worse for far longer. "I thought you and Todd were on the outs."

"We talked it out like adults." Drake sighs, "It's not all better, but I did take the mantle by force, and Jason was under the influence."

"Tt. Comparing pit-madness to marijuana is hardly an accurate metaphor." Damian wiggles, "And I was under the impression that this household didn't talk about their feelings." He tries to find weak points and escape routes before—

"Timberly's not the reader in this house anyway." Todd's voice is smug, whilst Damian feels the sting of a losing battle wash over him. "And you're sorely mistaken if you think you can escape from this conversation, Demon Brat."

Gods, does Damian miss when Robin was mute.

===

"When I was seven," Damian starts, "I almost died."

Damian resolutely does not look up, feeling Todd's eyes like shackles.

Drake has left them be, for better or for worse, so it's just the two of them in one of the offices on the third floor.

It's neutral ground.

"It wasn't a particularly interesting attempt at my life," Damian continues, bland.

"It wasn't the first," Here, Damian smiles wryly to the ground, "and it clearly wasn't the last."

He hears Todd huff, and it makes Damian feel a little better against all his judgement and denials.

"But this one," Damian pauses, takes a deep breath, "Someone saved me."

There's a long silence that follows, Damian half-expecting some kind of response. When none comes, Damian plows on.

"Mother introduced them to me as Robin." Damian finally meets Todd's eyes, who looks furrowed, confused, as if he knows he should remember something, but can't.

"They were violent in a…" Damian searched for most fitting word, "protective way."

Todd tilts his head, assessing, wondering.

"They were mute," Damian tilts his head, mirror Todd and smirking, "Though we suspected it was psychosomatic."

Todd's expression scrunches up, as if remembering their unpleasant 'first meeting.'

"They…" Damian hesitates, unsure if it needs to be said, "They were amnesiac, and only responded to the name Robin."

Todd perks up, though Damian is sure this part is the least surprising.

"They had fixated on me," Damian explains, gritting his teeth against the annoyance that he refuses to call fond, "Under the wrong impression that I could not take care of myself."

Todd snorts, but when Damian glares at him he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Mother trained them, and they were good, and listened to orders," Damian watches as Todd takes issue with that, tries to lessen the blow, "But when they fixated on me, Robin refused to leave my side, and Mother knew when to cut her losses."

Todd looks smug about that, which annoys Damian.

"They were thusly assigned as my…companion, of sorts." Damian bites his lip, relents. "A bodyguard."

Damian does not wish to dwell on the ups and downs of their companionship, so he speeds it along.

"We spent 3 years together, going on missions and training." Damian looks down at his hands, fidgets the way that Grayson does. Stops himself. He's been in Gotham for too long.

"And then something happened." Damian purses his lips, "Something frightened them."

Damian drags his duffle bag, which he had gotten from his room specifically for this conversation, up from the floor to rifle through and pull something out.

"Mother gave me this," Damian hands over the Gray Ghost figurine to Todd, who takes it delicately in his large hands, "After another attempt at my life."

"I had gotten hurt, just a flesh wound," He smirks, but it is wry and unamused, "Robin was very fussy and angry,"

Jason's eyes flash, almost literally, before he goes back to inspect the figure.

"Robin was very bothered by the figure," Damian continues, placing the bag back down on the floor. "They attempted to…well, I assume steal me away to protect me."

"It went on for about a month, at least once a week." Damian breathes a sigh, "Robin was deteriorating. Not physically, but mentally."

This time, when the silence lingers, Damian is unsure how to continue.

"I started to remember." Todd breaks the stillness, voice low and rusty and wiggling the figure before saying sarcastically, "Gray Ghost saves the day once again."

Damian scoffs, sobering up and scrunching his nose as he nods. "Robin had an altercation with Mother, one night whilst I was asleep." Damian closes his eyes against the memory, "I woke up and they were gone."

"To this day, I don't know what happened." Damian looks the the side, resentful, "Mother would not tell me."

"Talia dunked me in the Pit." Damian freezes, mind going overdrive, "She took me in because she wanted to help her Beloved, but my mind…"

"I got my memories back, and then some," Todd scoffs, "I recognize now that Talia was trying to…I don't know, relate to me. Placate me, in a sense."

Todd scratches his head, "But the Pit Madness changed me. I was angry, and she let slip that Joker was still alive, that there was a new Robin on the scene."

Damian can't breathe. "She tried to stop me, but I'm scrappy." Todd smirks with no humor to it, "Helps that she didn't want to hurt me, hindsight is 20/20 I guess."

"Mother is…not good with words." Damian admits. Living in Wayne Manor, seeing how they interact, Damian knows now. Mother was awkward in her attempts to connect with Damian. He just didn't see it because she was so capable elsewhere, and he didn't know better.

"Understatement of the year, Brat." Todd smiles, a real one this time. "You know? I think the whole Joker lives and there's a new Robin shit she was saying was her attempt to make me stay."

Damian's head whips up, eyes wide.

"She mentioned brothers." Todd shrugs, a little guilt tinging the action, "Didn't understand it at the time, thought she was talking about Timbuktu."

Damian clenches his fists, grits his teeth. Feels something well up and refuses to let any of it go. The Gray Ghost figure is thrust into his face, causing him to back up as best he can in his chair, staring cross eyed at it for a moment before he takes it back from Todd.

"Listen, I don't remember my time as," Todd flaps a hand, "your Robin, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

Damian slants him a skeptical look, he's seen how he interacts with this entire family, which Todd responses by rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"I don't care care," He amends, as if that makes it any clearer, "but we're here. For better or worse, you're part of this family now."

Todd reaches over and grips Damian's shoulder. Damian, through years and years of body memory, slumps forward, relaxing, and hates himself for it.

Todd pauses, no doubt noting the strange reaction, but thankfully does not bring it up. He continues, "If you think you're leaving this Manor anytime soon, then you're dumber than you look."

Todd grins, almost like he's baring his teeth, "And you look dumb, Brat."

"I am not—" Damian pauses, eyes narrowing in suspicion as the words catch up to him, slapping Todd's hand away belatedly, "What do you mean?"

Todd crosses his stupidly bulky arms, leans back to cross one leg over the other, eyebrow quirked. "You're telling me you believe all the bullshit that this," He twirls a hand around the office, signifying the Manor, "is temporary?"

"Mother said she would be back. I am heir to the Al-Ghul name." Damian bristles, hissing, "Just as you and our…siblings are taking up the Batman mantle, my duty is to the League."

"Demon Brat." Todd shakes his head, "Damian. Kid, Bruce was never gonna let that fly. Dick wouldn't, none of the others either."

Damian stands up, abruptly. "That is not for them to decide!"

He grabs his duffle to place the figurine back in, jerkily, which causes the things inside to tumble. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid mistake. Damian falls to his knees, hastily stuffing his clothes and—

"I remember this." Todd's voice is piercing to his ears, despite how soft the rumble. Damian, freezes when he sees what Todd is holding.

"I made you sleep with this." Todd is cradling the bear, the one he was supposed to hide and has hidden since he received it. "You were tiny." Todd is on one knee, probably trying to either stop Damian or help him, holding the stupid fucking bear. "Well, tinier."

Damian rips it out of his hands, taking a breath to make sure he didn't actually rip it, and goes back to putting everything away with a calmer, trained manner.

"Robin made me sleep with it." Damian mutters under his breath. "Gods know why."

Task done, Damian shoulders the bag and strides to the door, intent to leave Todd and this entire conversation behind.

"Damian." He freezes, hand on the doorknob, against all his wishes, but does not turn around. "Think about what, exactly, Talia said to you when she dropped you off."

Damian's hand clenches tight on the cool metal of the knob. "She's bad at words, remember?"

Damian doesn't answer, disliking his own words being thrown back at him. He swings the door open and slams it shut, starts heading towards his room without stopping.

Your Father has many children, Habibi. Damian turns a corner. Memorize their names, be amiable. Do not pry.

It's late in the evening now, Drake and Todd having ambushed him after dinner to have this talk.

You are not here to cause trouble. The moon is full and high, and its light feels much too delicate on his skin. You are here to stay safe.

Perhaps—Damian is breathing heavy, despite running twice as long without breaking a sweat before—this is an opportunity for you to…relax.

He opens his door, locks it behind him to try and keep his Mother's voice out. He fails.

Heal from…certain wounds. Damian breathes, walks to his bed, setting the duffle bag down.

Try to make the best of your time in Gotham. Unwillingly, he takes out the bear once more, holds it in his hands as he sits on his bed. It's smaller now, in perspective. Damian had gotten a slight growth spurt in his time here.

Always remember, Habibi. In the darkness of his room, Damian hugs the bear, curling up atop the sheets. I will support you, even as the world comes crashing down.

And the world, as Damian knows it, comes crashing down.

===

Damian locks himself in his room for three days.

Pennyworth gives him his meals on a tray wordlessly, knocking thrice before leaving him to it.

His siblings knock to leave things too: A new set of shuriken, shiny and sharp, tucked away in velvet bag with a bat symbol on them. A children's coloring book, Justice League themed that comes with a set of stickers and a case of colored pencils. A small accordion sketchbook the size of a post-it, with a charcoal pencil attached to it via a small elastic. The fourth installment of a series of books he's been reading. An expensive-looking brand of linseed oil, with a polishing cloth for his weapons. A Rubix cube, still in its plastic encasement.

The thing that catches his attention the most is a small, unassuming plastic bag that's been closed with a ziptie. There's a note that reads can't have the little guy running around naked. There are little comments from the other siblings expressing confusion and exclamations, but he ignores it completely.

When he delicately cuts the bag open, inside is a set of clothes. A miniature, new version of the ragged and torn Robin uniform Damian had seen displayed in the Cave.

There's a birth certificate, from a place called Build-a-Bear Workshop, denoting the birth of one Robin Al-Ghul.

And there, written on the last line…

Belongs To: Damian Al-Ghul Wayne

On the fourth day, Damian goes to see his Father.

They talk for a very long time.

===

"Hello, Mother." Damian's voice does no shake, but some part of him is unsure if he's deluding himself.

He's sitting on the Wayne Manor rooftop, the part that's just above his bedroom window. The night is breezy, and there are no stars strong enough to peek through the ever present smog.

"Hello, dear heart." Mother's voice is smooth, soft, even through the tinny speakers of the phone. Loving, now that he knows. Doting, now that he has learned.

"Was this always your intention?" Damian hates how he sounds so childish, but who else could he be childish with, if not his own mother?

Mother does not say anything for a long time, long enough for Damian to think that perhaps the call has dropped if not for the soft sounds of wind blowing on her end of the phone. He wonders if she's outside the Compound, or on a mission. He thinks about the arid air, about the scent of his Mother, about the feel of the hard packed dirt and sand of the training grounds, the uneven cobble of his rooms—the first one, the one where he essentially met Robin in when he was seven.

"When Robin came to us," Mother whispers, the breathe of it crackling over the speaker, "I only intended to…fix him. Return him healthy and hale in respect for the love your father and I shared."

Damian hums, adjusting himself. He's been through colder nights, but he's learned that it's okay to…express discomfort.

"When he fixated on you, it elated and frustrated me in turn." Mother laughs, "I am not a good Mother, and his presence made it all the more apparent."

"That is not true—" Damian protests, vehemently, but it's cut off.

"I did well," Mother agrees, stopping him short, "For the upbringing I had. But we were raised different, you and I. And Robin—Jason had no memories, but he knew it wasn't right."

She sighs over the line, static crunching through, "So I tried. And failed. And realized I wanted more for you."

Damian stays silent. He thinks about the bear, sitting on his bed in his new costume. He thinks about the figurine, still hidden away in his duffle. He thinks about the knife he was given to play with when he was four years old.

"When Robin left, and the League started having…issues," Damian snorts, but quiets at his Mother's admonishing tsk, "I saw an opportunity."

"And what of the League?" Damian challenges, "Who will be heir?"

"I am still alive, no?" Mother taunts, "And I will be alive for a long while yet. If you…well. When the time comes, we will deal with it. I do not, and will not, regret the choice to give you this…experience."

"You thought that Father would do a better job," There's an ache in Damian's chest when he whispers this, "Raising me, giving me…a semblance of a regular childhood."

It cracks through him harshly when Mother does not answer.

"Father is…good." Damian hesitantly tries to find the words, "He is more than adequate, is very patient with me. But I am new to having a father…and I miss my Mother quite a bit."

"Really?" Damian smiles, having never heard Mother use this tone of voice before—a hopeful lilt, excited.

"I am of the firm opinion," Damian shuts his eyes, trying not to cry, "that there is no better Mother for me."

There's sound across the speaker, a shuffle, Mother taking a deep breath. Tears start to fall, quiet and warm, down his cheeks.

He has not cried since he was a child, little more than a toddler.

"I am glad," Mother's voice shakes a little, "for I am also of the opinion that there is no better son for me as well."

Damian huffs, wiping his cheeks and letting the silence float in the air, comfortable in the space between one phone and the next, enjoying each other's breath.

"Father wishes for me to go to school." Damian finally says.

"Is that so?" Damian has never realized that you can hear someone's smile until this very moment, "The League is almost under control. They have those…parent's nights, no? Where the children show off their drawings? Your father says you have quite the talent…"

Damian laughs, bright, and hopeful.

some jasons and damians thats been piling up :]

(and tim and alfred the cat)

[del-thetiredwriter]

Twisted Wonderland / Otome Au

Warning: Yandere , gn reader, English is not my first language.

Notes: Okay I know I have many other au in waiting but I just liked the idea and write this instead. I hope you like it . Please share your thoughts with me.

Summary: One day, you opened your eyes and found yourself in Twisted Wonderland. And the task the System gave you is to get one of the lead characters love meter to 100% by the end of the main story and reach their happy ending.

You slowly opened your eyes to the sounds of the voices. It was dark… and it sounded like someone was punching to something ? You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t. As you tried to understand what was happening, a screen and two options appeared in front of you:

> What’s that noise?

> Is it morning already?

You clicked on one of the random options.

“I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me… Urgggh… this lid weighs a ton!”

Who was talking like that?

“Try this on for size! Mya-ha!”

Suddenly, blue flames spread everywhere. You wanted to scream but you couldn’t even move, let alone talk. Two options appeared in front of you again.

> BWAAAH?!

> F- fire?!

What were these options? You clicked on a random option.

“Now to grab the goods… What?! You ain’t supposed to be awake!”

When you opened your eyes, a talking cat? And a strange room? But for a second, something seemed familiar…

Two options appeared in front of you again:

> A talking… weasel?!

> F-floating coffins?!

You clicked the first option. With your click, words without consent came out of your mouth again.

“How… How DARE YOU! I am no WEASEL! I’m Grim , sorcerer extraordinaire!”

The cat shouted? But wait a minute Grim? Now when you look carefully, this room, these scenes were just like the game you played, Twisted Wonderland.

“Tch. Whatever. You…human! Just gimme your uniform, and be quick about it! Cause if you don’t…you’re gonna regret it!”

Two options appeared in front of you again:

> S-somebody help!

> Getting roasted alive by a weasel!? What will I dream next ?

You clicked on one of the options on the screen and your legs started running on their own… when you finally stopped, two options appeared again on the screen that you thought was invisible to everyone except you (Grim never talked about the screen, that's why you came to this conclusion).

> Where am I?

> If this is a dream, I'm ready to wake up now.

When you clicked on one of the options, Grim's voice came from behind you.

"Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME? Now unless you wanna get burned to a crisp,take off that- Me-YEOW! That hurt!what gives?"

Just like in the prologue of the game, the man you thought was Crowley came. You weren't listening to Crowley while he was saying something. You were trying to understand the strangeness of the events. Everything seemed real, as if it couldn't be a dream, but you weren't in control of your body… Two options appeared on the screen that you thought was invisible again:

> Student…?

> Gate…?

You clicked on one of the options. Then Crowley gave you the explanations you know. And two options appeared on the screen again:

> So those coffins are like…gateways?

> I think something blew the lid of mine.

You quickly clicked an option. Apparently this screen was only visible to you. The man you thought was Crowley had never talked about this screen… Two options appeared on the screen again and you clicked the option you chose… Crowley’s answer confirmed your guess. You were in Twisted Wonderland?..

The screen appeared in front of you again.

….

The movement restrictions have been lifted. You have regained your ability to speak and move. Now you can talk and move as you wish.

….

Y/N L/N Welcome to Twisted Wonderland.

Main quest: Reach your happy ending with your true love before the main story ends.

Track the love meters of the protagonists to find out their love for you, and increase their love meters to 100%. Reach your happy ending before the main story ends.

Time limit: End of the main story

Punishment: Death

….

You opened your mouth, you could move! But wait a minute, is everything real then? As you recall, Twisted Wonderland wasn't an Otome game. But if everything was real... what would you do?

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

Red-haired, tough and disciplined Heartslabyul dorm leader. If you follow his route, you will start at zero, but with the end of the prologue and the start of Book 1, his interest in you will drop to minus due to your friends Ace, Deuce and Grimm. Especially if you argue with him one-on-one, his love percentage, which is already at minus, will drop even more.

But don't worry, Riddle, who feels ashamed and regretful for what he made you go through after the overblot he experienced at the end of the first book, can increase his love percentage from minus to zero or even plus.

It will be easier to approach Riddle after the overblot incident. Especially after the overblot he experienced, while people stay away from him, your being by his side will fuel his love for you. So you can expect sudden increases in his love meter.

He likes to have tea with you, attend unbirthday parties and have study dates. Especially when you ask him to explain a question you are stuck on, he literally melts when you approach him while he is explaining the question to you. He will have difficulty of maintaining his facial expressions and tone of his voice.

However, there is one thing you should pay attention to. That is Riddle's controlling personality. Although he is fine in normal mode, the same cannot be said for dark mode. For this reason, you should be careful in your choices. Although some choices increase Riddle's love level, they can put him in dark mode.

In dark mode, Riddle initially isolates you from your friends under the excuse of studying without you noticing, then this progresses and before you know it, he even chooses the tea you drink. He controls your entire life. In dark mode, Riddle does not want you to be interested in anyone other than himself or be friends. Everyone is a potential threat to him. If you do not stop him in time, he can go as far as imprisoning you in his own room.

Trey Clover

Tall, kind and helpful, the vice dorm leader of heartslabyul. If you are following the Trey route, I recommend that you do not expect a sudden increase in Trey's love meter, unlike Riddle. Although Trey is affectionate and gentle, you can raise the love meter very slowly, and after a while, you may not be able to raise it at all.

Trey usually likes to help you with your studies and bake with you. However, he swears that your baking dates will be the end of him. When you giggle and wipe his face when he get flour on his face, when you lick your finger to taste the cream, or when you feed him something with your own hands, his heart beats so fast that he swears he will have a heart attack.

But he always reminds himself to control himself. He is your reliable, gentle, and loving senpai. He scolds himself for thinking such things about you. Because of this, your relationship progresses a little slowly.

Although Trey is a sweet, affectionate, and calm person, some of your choices and words can put him in dark mode.

It is very difficult to distinguish the difference between Trey in dark mode and Trey in normal mode. He never shows anything, he is always smiling, calm, and affectionate... This is what makes him dangerous. He manipulates you without you even realizing it. Going out with friends? Oh, Trey bought you tickets to the movies you wanted to go to, but if you don't want to go, you can go out with your friends. Did you make a new friend and are you spending "too much" time with them? Trey heard some nasty gossip about them... It was all your choice. Trey didn't force you to do anything.

Cater Diamond

Bright, social butterfly, 3rd year heartslabyul student Cater Diamond. If you follow Cater's route, it won't be hard to meet him, but it won't be easy to get close to him. Although Cater seems like a cheerful, relaxed, fun and friendly person, it won't be easy to pass through his walls. If you remember the fine details about his from the scenes you played in the game before and use this information to get close to him, it can be easier to get close to him.

You usually go on Cafe dates with Cater. And whenever you go out, Cater doesn't forget to take dozens of photos. Every time he takes a photo of you, he tells you how sweet and cute you look. He also doesn't forget to upload the photos he takes to magicam, after all, everyone should know how compatible a couple you are, right? Additional information: Cater loves to wear matching couple clothes with you. You can see that Cater's love meter increases especially when you wear matching clothes on dates.

Appearing closer to others or not revealing your relationship, hiding it or making small mistakes will cause Cater to have doubts and once the seeds of doubt are planted, it is hard to turn back. In dark mode, Cater does not show anything, just like Trey. He just smiles… With his social skills, it will not be difficult for Cater to isolate you. You see, rumors about you are everywhere and you have nothing to do but cry on Cater's shoulder. Because of the rumors, no one talks to you anymore and you are becoming more and more lonely. But don't worry, your prince charming Cater believes in you and is by your side.

Ace Trapolla

Ace Trappola, a mischievous first-year student of Heartslabyul. The first person you meet, although your first meeting was not that good, you quickly became close friends, just like in the game. Since you are close friends and in the same class, it is not very difficult to get close to Ace and increase his love meter since you spend most of your time together. The only problem is that he and Grimm are always causing you trouble and Ace is annoying.

You usually go out with Ace to cafes or on study dates. Even though Ace doesn't like studying, he likes it when you get close to him while explaining topics or explaining solutions to problems or when he watches you study. Why else would he go on a study date with you? Another activity Ace likes is when you watch him practice basketball, after all he wants you to see how cool he is. Ace also likes movie night and playing cards at the Ramshackle dorm and he visits the Ramshackle dorm often. He loves the way you get angry when you lose in every game, especially when you catch him cheating.

Now let's talk about Ace's jealousy problem. If you are not careful and neglect him, it can put Ace in dark mode. In dark mode, Ace reveals himself a little. His jokes and words are especially focused on breaking your self-confidence. However, he tries not to show it. He doesn't give you a chance to spend time with others and starts to show possessive behavior. He doesn't let you question him. He manipulates you into thinking you are inadequate and that he should be your only concern.

Your only concern should be Ace, after all, you should be thankful to him for being with a weak, magicless person like you.

Deuce Spade

Deuce Spade, a first-year student of Heartslabyul who helps you in every way, and who gets into more trouble as he tries to stay out of trouble. If you are following the Deuce Route, it won't be very difficult for you to get close to him. As in the story line, you meet in the prologue section. Since you are in the same class, you have the opportunity to get very close to him.

You usually make him study in your free time. You try to help him with the subjects he has difficulty with. Honestly , Deuce is as grateful as he is embarrassed about this. Spending your valuable time with him makes him feel special.

When you find out about his not-so-pleasant past that he hides, comforting him and encouraging him on his path to becoming an honor student increases his love meter a lot.

It's not easy to get into the dark mode Deuce route so don't worry. However, if you do get into dark mode Deuce will become more Clingy than usual. He's always afraid that you might leave him. If he sees you close to someone else he might get into a fist fight with that person when you're not around. But please don't leave him, you're his everything!

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- Caught in the Act

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- If you asked Zak Brown, he would advice never to store confidential contracts on the cloud. If you asked Lando, he would tell you to not fall in love with your fake fiance. If you asked Y/N, she would tell you to never date a famous person even if it's not real.

While Lando was being coached by his best friend to confess his love to his fake fiance; Zak's cloud was being hacked in hopes of finding some dirt on McLaren or their CEO ad black mail but they didn't expect to hit the jackpot. Their contract was valid for 3-4 more months and the plan was to slowly ease Y/N out of Lando's life and say that things didn't work out because of their busy schedule.

What no one anticipated was they would wake up on Saturday morning to both their face plastered all over the news with the contract they had signed. The media was calling them all sorts of things from trying to fool them to trying to fool an entire country. There were people who had tracked her down and were not waiting outside Y/N's house in hopes of talking to her or at her work. She had to take leave from work since her professors were speaking ill of her. She couldn't imagine having to go back for her PHD programme. The worst were the fans; the name calling, the hate; it was all directed towards her as if McLaren were saint's in all of this. Lando also bore the brunt of a major chunk of the hate.

Zak just texted them telling them not to talk to anyone and to stay hidden till it all died out. Y/N wouldn't even talk to Lando at this point because she was so angry and hurt and didn't want to direct her anger towards him when it wasn't even his fault. She was sat bawling her eyes out at all the mean things the people were saying about her. It made her life extremely difficult, something she hadn't imagined happening.

Lando was a mess; McLaren told the media that Lando wouldn't be answering any question other than the race and if they asked any personal questions, he just walked away; adding fuel to the fire. The drivers were also gossiping among themselves. "No wonder she suddenly showed up. It was all a rouse" George whispered. "I mean I get why McLaren would do that, with Lando's antics" Alex reasoned. But as soon as they would spot Lando, they would stop whispering. "If you guys are gonna talk about my relationship" he said in animated quotation marks, "do it in front of me. I'll answer all your questions" he huffed and walked away, clearly hurt by his friends. Racing while it felt like his world was falling apart was proving to be very difficult. All his calls and messages to Y/N would fall on deaf ears and it was messing with him even more. He just needed to know that she was okay. He didn't give a rat's ass about how he was.

"Lando, I think, soon the media will get something else to talk about. You should just focus on your racing" Zak reasoned with Lando who wanted to put out a statement saying it was all their idea. "None of this would've happened had you not saved the damn contract on your cloud" Lando sighed angrily. "I don't understand how could you let something like that happen" he shouted walking away. The environment in the McLaren garage was tense to say the least.

Lando had hoped that things would quite down by now. The original timeline for his contract was also up but there was no shutting up about the fake relationship. Lando won his maiden win and yet the only thing they could talk about was Y/N. Part of Lando missed her, he had really hope to be able to share this moment with her. When he got out of the car, a big part of him wished she was there so he could run to her, hold her and maybe celebrate this win with her.

So, later that night, he did call her and she answered, her voice hoarse. "Congratulations Lando" she crocked. "Were you crying?" Lando asked worried. "Yeah, I'm just so happy you won" she said clearing her throat. Lando found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. "How have you been?" he asked her softly. "Same old same old. I thought things would quite down by now but they haven't." Y/N mumbled. "I'm sorry" Lando apologised. "It's a good thing I'm busy with research for my PHD. I have no clue how I would deal with people in my class" she sighed. "I'm so sorry Y/N. It's all my fault" Lando began before Y/N cut him off. "It's no one's fault. Things like this happen. I'm just glad they didn't rebuke my visa for this" she laughed trying to lighten the mood. 'I miss you' was stuck in both their throats as they continued to talk for a couple more minutes. "I think we should cut the call" Y/N suggested. "Oh" Lando replied. "I think it would be easier for the both of us if we stopped contacting each other. It was a hassle explaining the whole thing to my parents and my relatives. I just don't have it in me honestly" Y/N breathed out shakily. "I'll fix this" Lando tried to reason. "Don't Lando. I think this was it for us. I wish you the best. Take care" Y/N said it like it was their last time talking. "Please" Lando begged but Y/N cut the call; "But I love you" Lando whispered into his phone.

As the time went on and as the championship picked up, Lando's heart was in unrest. He felt like he had wronged the person who he loved and he couldn't live knowing that. So, he decided to sit down one day and film a video. He had seen the stuff people were saying about him and Y/N and he felt like it had been months; people should've moved on by now but if they couldn't he would make sure that they wouldn't be able to say shit about Y/N anymore.

The video began with Lando in his Monaco apartment; "Hi guys. Lando here" he began. He took a deep breath before speaking; "I would like to address my whole relationship with Y/N in his video. Part of me had hoped that it wouldn't come to his but here we are. Y/N and I did begin this relationship in a contract but it was the team's and my decision to do so. She was just a random person we ran into who ended up helping us. So, the whole gold digger narrative you all are spinning is a load of bull. I know I shouldn't've done that but I had no other option to clear up my image because that's what the team and sponsors wanted. Part of me had hoped that after the championship had started picking up steam you guys would have something better to talk about but hating on us for the decisions we made is too much. If you would like to hate on me or send me a ton of hate, be my guest but please leave Y/N out of this. She is innocent and doesn't deserve this. I would appreciate it if you would stop sending hate to the woman I actually loved. And to Y/N, if you're even watching, had we met in a different situation, I would've actually married you since I really do love you" Lando finished the video and after he was happy with it he uploaded it to his channel. He knew his PR team would give him shit but he didn't give a fuck. He just wanted Y/N to be safe.

The internet was in an uproar after Lando's public declaration of love. Some were calling it cliche and the others were swooning over Lando for taking a stand. People weren't very happy with McLaren and how they had handled the whole situation. Lando was being bombarded by calls from McLaren and they were angry at him for what he did. "Lando are you crazy? The sponsors won't stop calling. Why would you say that?" Zak shouted. "Because lying was what got us here. So, I cleared the air" Lando stated. "You are unbelievable and so difficult. I don't know why I tried so hard to keep you" Zak mumbled which Lando heard and it stung.

Y/N was on vacation with Becky who had taken her away since all she did was stay coup-ed up at home since the whole incident. Y/N woke up to a text from her mum; 'you'll want to see this. It's Lando' it read. Y/N quickly loaded the video and before she knew it, she was crying. She couldn't believe that Lando loved her. The craziest part of the video was the love confession honestly. She quickly called him and a groggy voice answered. "Y/N, is everything okay?" Lando asked worried. "Yes. Do you mean it?" she asked. "Mean what?" Lando asked confused. "What you said in the video about being in love with me?" she pleaded. "Yes. Every word. I've been in love with you for months and I couldn't tell you and it was killing me. It's fine if you don't feel the same. I just needed to let it out" Lando rambled. "I love you too you muppet" she laughed as tears were rolling down her face. "You mean it?" Lando asked pinching himself. "Yes. I love you so much Lando Norris" she said, by now Becky was also up due to all the commotion. "Are you free tonight?" Lando asked. "Ahh, I'm on vacation right now" she said slowly. "Let me know when you're back, I'll pick you up at the airport" Lando said, "I love you Y/N Y/L/N" Lando stated. "I love you too" Y/N replied before ending the call to explain everything to Becky.

True to his words Lando had come to the airport to pick her up, As soon as he spotted her, he ran to her at full speed almost knocking her down as he wrapped his arms around her waist raising her in the process to spin around for a while. "I missed you" he whispered putting her down with his head nuzzled in her neck. "I missed you too" she whispered running a hand through the back of his hair. "You made me dizzy" she whined as he pulled away to look at her. "Sorry" Lando smiled sheepishly. "About that date?" he asked. "Give me some time to shower and than I'm all yours" she beamed.

The two of them headed home. They went on that much needed date; at home with pizza and shitty rom-coms. They giggled as the pair on the screen kissed. When Lando turned to look at her and held her face like it was the most precious thing. "Can I kiss you?" he mumbled, eyes flickering to her lips. She nodded and Lando closed the distance between them, the kiss was sweet and needy; they had so many emotions running through them and some how this kiss was exactly what they needed.

"What about McLaren?" she asked a couple days later. "I'll tell them we're really dating but now I really wanna just protect you. I won't let anything happen to you." he stated. "I know" she hummed in agreement kissing his lips.

After spending the whole of summer break together, Lando came out to announce that him and Y/N were actually dating. The team took it as well as you expect them to. The fans were going wild since this was truly out of a book. The other drivers were quite supportive and even apologised for their previous discretion.

With Y/N on his side, Lando felt like he could take on the world; good or bad. And Y/N was happy she agreed to fake date Lando since she got a real boyfriend out of this.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

[harryssyndrome]

Best Brother Ever | h.s

Pairing: Husband!Dad!Harry x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: a sweet Sunday afternoon with the styles family and Alex being the best big brother.

Word count: 2.6k || MASTERLIST 𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧

I got really inspired by a cute reel I saw on Facebook and since then this sweet fluff has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do ♡ let me know your thoughts in comments! Like & reblog are truly appreciated 🥰 REQUEST ARE OPEN.

It was a peaceful Sunday morning in the Styles household, and the cozy, familiar sounds of home filled the air. In the kitchen, YN moved around with practiced ease, stirring a pot, chopping vegetables, and tasting spices with a focused concentration. She’d been at it for a while now, determined to make Harry’s mom, Anne, feel right at home with her favorite dish. In the background, 18 by One Direction played softly, and YN found herself humming along, her voice a gentle echo to the lyrics.

Though the band had gone on indefinite hiatus years ago, and each of the boys had branched off into their own solo careers, YN hadn’t stopped listening. She was a Directioner through and through, and she knew in her heart she’d never let go of those songs—they were part of her story, her history with Harry, and her dreams.

Meanwhile, in the living room, their six-year-old son, Alex, was lying on the mat with Berry, their playful family dog, gently scratching behind Berry’s ears. Berry’s tail thumped in delight, and Alex giggled as the dog rolled over, waiting for belly rubs. The two were inseparable, each one the other’s partner in mischief.

After a few minutes, Alex felt a tickle of thirst, and with his usual burst of energy, Alex stopped scratching and said, “Oh Berry didn’t you get tired of all the scratching? I know, I know you were enjoying it but it’s time for a break, I’m thirsty. You don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! Granny likes it when you’re a good boy.” He then sprang up and ran to the kitchen, tiny footsteps echoing across the hardwood floor.

“Alex, no running in the kitchen, remember?” YN gently reminded him, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

Alex skidded to a stop, giving her an innocent look. “Sorry, Mama.” He then carefully walked to the fridge, his small hand reaching for a water bottle. After unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip, he paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Looking up at his mom, he noticed how she’d been working by the stove for a while. The warmth from the flames made the kitchen a bit stuffy, and in that moment, his little mind put two and two together. Carefully holding out the bottle to her, he asked, “Mama, do you want some water too?”

YN paused, touched by the thoughtful gesture. The little boy was caring just like his father. Her heart swelled with pride and warmth at her son’s understanding, and she leaned down to pull his cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Alex beamed up at her, delighted by her kiss, and handed her the bottle with a shy smile. YN took a small sip, her heart feeling full in the best way possible. Moments like these, simple and unassuming, were what made her life feel so complete.

YN glanced around the kitchen, realizing she hadn’t seen Harry in a while. She turned to Alex, who was still grinning from her earlier kiss, and asked, “Where’s your daddy?”

Alex paused, looking thoughtful. “He’s giving Amelia a bath!” he replied brightly.

YN chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you think he’s taking a little too long?”

Without another word, Alex took off down the hall, announcing over his shoulder, “I’m gonna check!”

YN shook her head, smiling to herself as she continued stirring the pot. But barely a minute later, she heard Alex’s laughter ring out, loud and delighted, carrying all the way back to the kitchen. Curious, she wiped her hands and followed the sound down the hallway, wondering what on earth could have him so amused.

When she reached the bathroom, she found Alex standing at the doorframe, giggling uncontrollably. YN peeked over his shoulder, and the sight before her was too good not to laugh herself.

Harry stood by the sink, almost drenched, his shirt soaked and clinging to him, while his hair, wet and messy, hung down in front of his eyes. Amelia, their 15-month-old daughter, squirmed in his arms, wrapped in a fluffy towel that he was struggling to keep around her tiny, wiggling frame. Amelia, completely entertained, let out a series of squeals and giggles, delighted by the whole chaotic scene.

Harry looked up, his eyes meeting YN’s as he tried—and failed—to blow a strand of wet hair out of his face. “She’s, uh… a slippery one,” he said with a helpless smile, shifting Amelia as she kicked her tiny feet, clearly thrilled by all the attention.

YN chuckled, stepping into the bathroom to take over. “I think you’ve gotten just as much of a bath as she has,” she teased, reaching for Amelia.

“Believe me, I know,” Harry replied, surrendering his squirming daughter into YN’s arms. As soon as she was safely in her mother’s embrace, Amelia nuzzled into YN, her little face lighting up with another round of happy giggles.

Alex, still laughing, tugged at Harry’s soaked shirt. “Daddy, you’re all wet!”

Harry ruffled Alex’s hair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Well, that’s what happens when you try to bathe a little mermaid,” he joked, winking at YN.

YN smiled, cradling Amelia close as the baby snuggled into her, finally calm. Glancing up at Harry, she added with a playful grin, “Maybe next time I’ll leave the bath duty to you again. You look like you’re having way too much fun.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Only if I get a raincoat next time.”

With everyone still giggling, the air filled with warmth and laughter. For YN, it was yet another reminder of how these simple, unplanned moments held the truest joy.

After drying Amelia’s soft curls and dressing her in an adorable denim overall dress, YN gave her a little pat, sending her off with Alex, who eagerly took her tiny hand. “Come on, Amelia! Let’s play in the backyard!” he declared, guiding her to the door as she toddled along, wide-eyed and giggling.

Meanwhile, Harry changed out of his soaked clothes and slipped into a comfortable hoodie and shorts. Feeling refreshed, he wandered back to the kitchen to find YN putting the finishing touches on lunch. She was focused, stirring one last pot, her face glowing with that contented look he loved.

“Smells amazing,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into him, smiling as she gave the pot one final stir.

“Thank you,” she replied, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. “I wanted everything to be perfect for your mom.”

Harry pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “It already is perfect. Besides, Mom’s really coming to see you and the kids. I’m just… here for decoration,” he joked, earning a laugh from YN.

She turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. “Pretty good decoration, I’d say,” she teased back, her eyes sparkling. “Can’t say I mind having you around.”

He grinned, taking her hand in his. “And I can’t say I mind this whole thing… you, me, the kids, Sunday lunches. I think we’re doing alright, don’t you?”

YN’s smile softened, her heart warmed by his words. “I’d say we’re doing better than alright.”

When lunch was ready, they carried everything to the living room and settled comfortably on the sofa, filling their plates and savoring each other’s company in the cozy quiet. Berry, their loyal dog, lay stretched out on the floor nearby, watching them with sleepy eyes, as though content to be part of their little family moment. But the peace didn’t last long; as soon as Berry heard the sound of laughter from the backyard, he was on his feet and bounding toward the door, ready to join Alex and Amelia in whatever adventure they were up to.

Harry and YN shared a glance, amused, and Harry sighed with a laugh. “Should we go see what they’re getting into out there?”

YN nodded, grinning. “Definitely.”

Hand in hand, they headed toward the backyard porch deck, hearts full and laughter on their lips, ready to join in on the joy of the afternoon.

Harry and YN strolled out into the backyard, enjoying the sight of Alex and Berry playing an enthusiastic game of chase. Alex was giggling as he kicked the ball across the grass, Berry hot on his heels, barking and wagging his tail, clearly in his element.

But their attention quickly turned to little Amelia, who was standing by the swing set, her tiny fingers gripping the seat as she attempted to climb up. She’d tugged it down a few times, her determination evident in her scrunched-up face, but every time she tried to lift her legs, they just didn’t reach. She let out a tiny, frustrated squeal, her cheeks pink with effort.

Alex spotted her from across the yard and immediately abandoned his ball game, trotting over with Berry following close behind. “I’m coming, Amy! I’ll help you,” he declared, a serious expression crossing his little face. The way he spoke, it was as if he were preparing to climb a mountain, not help his baby sister onto a swing.

He placed a comforting hand on Amelia’s shoulder, patting her gently. “Don’t worry, Amy. I’ll get you up there,” he reassured her. Berry sat down nearby, tilting his head as if watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Alex held the swing steady, lowering it slightly to make it easier for her to grab. Amelia gave it her best shot, tugging herself forward and then clinging to her brother’s back, her small legs kicking as she tried to hoist herself up. But she kept slipping back down with a tiny thud, her face scrunched in concentration.

Seeing her struggle, Alex crouched down thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one finger like he’d seen his dad do when he was deep in thought. “Okay, hm… maybe try to use my back like a lil’ stool?” he offered, glancing up at her with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be like a step!”

Amelia’s eyes lit up, and she gave him an excited nod, as if this was the most brilliant plan she’d ever heard. Alex crouched down in front of the swing, bracing himself. “Alright, Amy, climb on!” he called out, his voice full of determination.

With a delighted giggle, Amelia leaned onto her brother’s back and clutched his T-shirt with her chubby little hands. She climbed as best as she could, trying to pull herself up—but her grip on his shirt only tightened as she clambered, her arms slipping around his neck. Alex winced, his voice coming out in a slightly strained laugh. “Amy… you’re kinda… choking me,” he gasped, though he kept steady, determined to help her however he could.

Harry and YN watched from nearby, biting back their laughter as Alex tried to be the perfect big brother, his determination and care making them both melt a little inside. Berry, still sitting close by, tilted his head again, ears perked as he followed every bit of the action.

Eventually, Alex, catching his breath, stood up, looking down at his sister with a thoughtful frown. “Alright, Amy, let’s try it another way,” he said, more determined than ever to help her reach her goal.

He pointed at the swing seat with a very serious expression, bending down to her level. “Just try to sit on it. Right here,” he said, gesturing to the exact spot where she should aim. “Watch, I’ll show you.”

With exaggerated care, he climbed onto the swing himself, wiggling around on the seat to demonstrate how to sit properly. Then he hopped off and held the swing firmly in place again, giving her an encouraging nod. “Okay, now you try.”

Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed with admiration for her big brother, and then turned back to the swing. She grasped it carefully with both hands, her face full of concentration, and this time, after a few wobbly attempts, she managed to pull herself up, finally plopping down on the seat with a triumphant squeal.

Alex’s face broke into a huge grin. “You did it, Amy!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “You’re a big girl now!”

Amelia giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and Alex gave the swing a gentle push, sending her gliding back and forth, her delighted squeals filling the backyard. Each time she swung forward, she let out a little giggle, her laughter filling the air.

Harry and YN stood side by side, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Alex carefully push Amelia on the swing. Her joyful squeals mixed with the gentle creak of the swing, and Alex’s steady encouragement filled the air. Berry trotted nearby, tail wagging, occasionally glancing up as if to make sure everything was under control.

Harry tightened his arm around YN’s shoulders, pulling her close as he shook his head in admiration. “He’s… he’s really the best big brother, isn’t he?” he said, his voice soft with awe. “Look at him—so gentle with her, so patient. I can’t believe he’s only six.”

YN beamed, her eyes fixed on their son as she watched him push Amelia with such care, his face serious with concentration, as if he were on an important mission. “I know,” she replied, her voice warm with pride. “He’s amazing with her, isn’t he? Always looking out for her, always so sweet. I feel like we’re really… doing something right.”

Harry looked down at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I think you’re doing most of it right,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his. “I’m just here to make sure they know how to make a mess and have fun.”

YN laughed, nudging him back. “Oh, please, Harry—you’re their hero. Every time you walk in, they light up. You’re like their personal superhero.”

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know about ‘superhero,’ but… seeing them like this, watching them take care of each other? That’s everything.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked back at Alex and Amelia. “They’re so lucky to have each other. And I think… we’re pretty lucky to have them, too.”

YN nodded, her heart swelling as she took in the scene—their two little ones, working together, supporting each other in their own innocent, unfiltered way. “It’s moments like these that make it all worth it, don’t they?” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “All the late nights, all the messy meals and chaotic mornings… all of it. Seeing them happy, and kind, and just… them.”

Harry gave her a soft smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t imagine a better team than this. You and me… and these two.” He gestured toward Alex and Amelia, his eyes crinkling with pride. “We’re doing something right, YNN. I know we are.”

Just then, Alex looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents watching. His face lit up with pride, and he called out, “Look, Mum! Dad! Amy’s swinging! I got her up here all by myself!”

YN and Harry exchanged a warm glance before waving back, beaming with pride. “You’re the best big brother, Alex!” YN called out, giving him a big thumbs-up. “Amy’s so lucky to have you.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed with pride, and he turned back to Amelia, giving her swing another gentle push. “Did you hear that, Amy? Mum and Dad said I’m the best big brother ever!” he whispered to her, smiling from ear to ear.

Watching him, Harry gave YN’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re raising some pretty great kids, aren’t we?” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with pride. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re getting that part just right.”

YN looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Couldn’t agree more.”

[cat-stuck-in-a-tree]

Thank you @penguinsfly for the delightfully (albeit painfully) on-point discussion.

I'm gonna jump in here to elaborate on the 'but it does affect aromantic and asexual people keep it in mind' part of this because I'm seeing some understandable confusion on just how/why that's a thing.

Most of the time, fandom gets to be happily seperate from the rest of life. And that's great--its part of why people like it. You write what you want, how you want. If someone disagrees or dislike it, the rule is they can leave. Don't like? Don't read, don't interact, use the filters. I think we all get this, and get that most of the time its the best and most respectful course of action for everyone.

But here's the thing.

This rule works the vast majority of the time because most fanworks do not run the risk of negetively affecting real people's welbeing in the real world.

Why?

Most fanworks are based on characters who, while unique and very cool in their own ways, are very demographically bland. So you get to start with a relatively blank, not-likely-to-upset-anyone-if-changed charater and then the fandom gets to have at and make things more different in whatever ways they so choose. By their own consensus.

So fanworks usually give diversity instead of taking it. Giving more diversity isn't somethig that hurts people. And the base characters are so overrepresented and similar that its essentially impossible to take their diversity enough to cause harm.

Under these conditions, the 'don't like don't interact' rule works.

Still with me? Now buckle up.

There are --very rarely-- times where what you choose to create in fanfiction can hurt real people, outside of fanfiction. This happens when fanfication takes more diverse charaters and erases the traits that make them more diverse in an instance where those traits are real traits that belong to real people. (Read: you can safely un-werewolf as many characters as you want. But erasing cannon things like ethnic identity, disabilities, or minority sexualities not nearly as innocent as creating them).

Remember-- the fact that a traits is rare and not usually seen in any cannon means that the people with that trait are experiencing real world eraser and being told on a culturally significant level that their traits are undesirable and would, ideally, not exist.

Ergo, if you for whatever reason take a character representing the traits of a real miority and chose to get rid of those traits, from the perspective of that minoriy, you are doing the same thing and telling them they are unwanted and should not exist.

Again: Changing the traits of culturally accepted characters is fine. But you can't change the traits of a cultually erased character or any rare minority to be more mainstream (including mainstream in fanwork), without your actions telling real people experiancing oppression that you would prefer they didn't exist, either.

Okay, but why do my actions have to impact them? Especially when they still have the cannon charater?

Okay, look. You exist and the things you put out into the world exist.

If someone who has lived with significant parts of who they are being completely ignored and isolated from representation for most or likely all of their life hears that there is a character like them who they might actually be able to relate to, they are going to take whatever courage they have to risk being terribly dissapointed, and they will go find that character. And because there will not be anywhere near enough mainstream representation, no matter how good those few seconds are (literal seconds, usually) they will go looking for fanworks as their next step. If not the first because lets be honest, fan rep is usually way better than mainstream.

The hope, of course, is that the majority of the fandom will recognize and accepted the charater's culturally outcasted traits, and take it as an important part of their core characterazation. Just like it is to real people with those traits.

But here's the thing--what if they didn't. What if instead you come the the fandom and find that that trait--a core trait of that charater's being and your existance, identiy, and experiance of the world-- is being intentionally shunned and erased by almost everyone.

There's no way that's not going to hurt. And there's no way that's not going to impact your experience of your identity as a person and as they fit into the world. In this instance, fanworks being fanworks doesn't protect from harm. It actually makes it worse becuse its real people as a collective are choosing to erase you and not a big corrperation trying to make money.

If you have a character who you want to make fanwork of, and they have a trait that real people are oppressed for, or is in any way underrepresented, stop and consider how you would feel if you were someone with that trait, who came across a work that had erased it. Then consider why you want to erase it in the first place.

This is what's upseting aroace and sex-repulsed people about fan portrails of Alaster. Not because of people making or not making any specific work, but because of the collective message those works sends to the people who identify with cannon Alastor's sexuality.

Case in point: I went to check out AO3 because aroace sex-repulsed rep. And unholy mother of toadstools.

Look, the evidence isn't subtle that Alaster is much more likely to be a sex-repulsed asexual than any other identity. Anyone on the hell no side of intrinsic willingness to have sex can recognize that discomfort. And yeah, some people are going to want to explore other kinds of being ace, not being ace or aro, etc. But 'some' and 'literally the vast majority' are different things. Further, two thirds of the people aware of sex-repulsed asexuals people activily choosing not to accept that identity, even when--again-- it fits best at this point-- that's not a great message to send to the people about their sexuality. Or, y'know. Existance in the world.

Even in the asexual community, being aroace, asexual, or sex-repulsed (alone or all together) are extremely isolating and underrepresented experiences, and its incredibly difficult to find any representation (Alaster is the only one I know that seems to get it right even given how little its refrenced). Surfice to say its a bit disturbing to look up the closest description you have of your sexuality and find that its largly being erased. Not surprising. But. Out of 22,519 works only 4,790 tag Alaster as asexual (which is great ace rep, but not great considering over 3/4ths of the content ignore it (or at least didn't tag).

But here's the really troubling part: For a character who is most likely sex-repulsed (and is cannon ace, likly aro, and absolutely not shown in any way to want sex), just under 300 works, total acknoledge that. Out of over 20,000. Add aroace and get rid of clearly explicit content and...84 works total on AO3. (aroace without being sex-repulsed is also 84)

Total works:

Works tagged Asexual:

Works tagged Sex-repulsed and Aroace

I'm under the impression that very, very few people are at the far 'black' end of the ace spectrum, are sex-repulsed by nature, or are those things and aromantic. Even within the ace community, it can feel isolating and far outside the norm. And frankly, 84 works is still pretty exciting considering the usual zero.

I'm not saying we should have more works or less works. It seems much better to be greatful for what we have.

And at the same time, it does illustrate the point that's worth reflecting on.

Additionally...here's the bigger, much more disturbing example:

That's a pretty blunt 'we'd rather you not exist'. Especially counting the numbers. Also, weirdly specific. Why so much interest in denounceing a lable for an identity thats...almost never acknoledged or represented in the first place. Roughly 2,000 versus 200. And over half of that 200 is not of the sort of work sex-repulsed aces typically enjoy reading so. There's that, too.

This leads to another part of this that's got aro and ace feathers ruffled: Bad Ace rep. (Aro and not). The good news i there's also a decent amount of great ace rep! Bad news is the vast majority…isn't.

Listen, er all know there's a lot of ways to do ace rep because there's a lot of ways to be on the ace spectrum, and a good few to be asexual as well. But a component of being anything ace, is that sex et al. can be happily done without most to all of the time. Plus being asexual is a wildly different experience than being allo because of all the ways sexual stuff is tied into cultures and gender and other identiy stuff. Its really not the same experince as being allo, give or take sex. So if the point of the plot is and tags is primaritly 'how to get the ace charater to do sex while still saying they're ace' consider just not. At least that way folks can filter properly.

Especially for sex-repulsed people, ignoring or erasing a sex-repulsed charater's signs of discomfort around sex because you want to make things sexual and think its harmless...tends not to go over well. It runs too close to real life.

Look, I'm aware that if there's a term to unite fandom its probably incoragable --and that that's genrally something to be proud of-- and I think we all understand that people will be people and will keep up creating wildly not-in-character charaters--but l hope this helps more people understand the reasons discussions about Alastor's portrale in fandom keeps being brought up by extreemly ruffled aroaces, and that there are, perhapse, reasons its not always great to erase a queer minority character's representation in favor of turning them the fandom version of straight.

Hope this helps

I unfortunately saw something I didn't want to see and that was my last straw. I'm fucking doing this.

Let's establish this first. Alastor is stated in the show to be asexual that is not up to discussion. He is also very heavily implied in the same conversation to be aromatic. 'An Ace in the hole' being used in context of him being with Charlie is also implying his aromanticism.

VIDEO

If that's not enough then here is Viv speaking about his romantic orientation. It's pretty clear despite the fact that afterwards she said it's okay to headcanon whatever (it's not but I will get o that later) that he is written purely as an aro ace character.

On top of that going by Alastor's interaction with Angel from the pilot and the first episode it is clear that he is sex repulsed. Not only that but on the fandom website he is stated to be touch averse with two sources which you can check out on the website.

Hazbin hotel wiki, Alastor page

Now we established that Alastor is canonically Asexual, Aromantic, Sex Repulsed and Touch Averse

As I also am all of the above I'll try to explain everything to the best of my ability as simply as I can.

Aromanticism and Asexuality.

I'm probably targeting the audience that knows those terms but regardless I will explain it anyway.

Aromantic - people that experience little to no romantic attraction towards any gender

Asexual - people that experience little to no sexual attraction towards any gender.

Little to no

Asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums in which people can feel certain attractions towards people but those attractions are less occurring or are defined by personal connection.

Diagram from AVEN website

However some people are at the end of the spectrum, they never felt attraction and that's valid. Alastor was stated to be aroace he wasn't written as demi or as gray he was written as aroace as in the end of the spectrum. His repulsion and not giving shit about romance or sex speaks for itself.

Representation

I do understand that everyone wants to be represented but it's so important to understand that aroace people are one of the most underrepresented queer groups in the media.

And I'm not here to scream about how I want my fav character to be just like me I don't care for it I'm way too confident in my orientation to rely on that however I'm tired of explaining to people what asexuality and aromanticism is just to receive 'are you sure' or 'you'll change your mind' or 'its not real' or the community favourite 'you'll find the right person' no I won't I'm not looking thank you very much (I just smile and nod to be polite and I'm sick of it).

'Harmless' buts like: 'He might be on the spectrum', 'AroAce people can still feel attraction' hurt the final outcome for all the people on the spectrum not only strictly aroaces because it allows people to write one shots with 'Demi Alastor' that falls in love in 2000 words because he is 'demi' (spoiler alert: they don't understand what that label means). It's just a cover, an opening, sneaky way to disregard his orientation, feel good about themselves and move on. Newsflash there is no moving on for aroace people it's our life.

Shipping

Shipping is just harmless fun right? Usually yes but not in this case. In the same way its not okay to ship gay characters with genders they are not attracted to.

It's erasure and since there is much less people identifying on aro/ace spectrums then there is gay or bi people our voices are being silenced. Not to mention that gay people received support from entire LGBTQIA+ community over the years in contrast to aro/ace specs who to this day are told that we are 'not queer enough' or 'not oppressed enough' often by other queer people.

And finally... FINALLY we get cannon Aro/Ace character that is clearly not interested in romance and sex. Character that beats stereotypes of boring and timid aro/ace people and what's the first people do? They ship him. Alastor's storyline provides so many points to be explored like 'what is his backstory', ' what's about his deal', ' how does he fit in in the found family trope' , 'does he care about hotel guests' yet people choose to write about the only thing that he is not interested in. As a heavily repulsed person that used to be horrified about the fact that I'll have to fall in love with somebody at some point before I found out what aro/ace is I find it repulsive and trust me he would too.

But Viv said it's okay!

Its the same point once again. What if Viv said that it's okay to ship gay Angel with woman. She doesn't have authority to say shit like that.

Queerplatonic relationships

I can't tell you not to do it I don't think he would be necessary interested in it but for fuck sake do your research and try to understand what queerplatonic means before you use it as a cover to shamelessly ship him. Respect the fact that he is sex repulsed and touch averse and you're fine.

Why can't you just avoid it?

First of all I shouldn't have to. Alastor's orientation should be respected in the fandom like any other orientation is. Second of all I've tried. I tried to only look up AroAce Alastor tag I've blocked over 80 people on tumblr alone (I just counted) to avoid to see anything that could trigger me and I'm not talking about slightly shippy posts or fanarts I'm talking about full blown disregard towards his orientation. Guess what it didn't work!

Archive of our own where do I start. I've used this website for over a decade and I could probably count days I didn't go there on my fingers. I'm fluent in AO3 I know which tags I should block. I know how to skim thorough the summary and tags to see if I'm interested. I've seen shit I'm a shipper I've been on ao3 for ten years but never had to mentally prepare myself to face queerphobia as I click on the tab.

Just use aro/ace Alastor tag.

I do and let me tell you people can't tag for shit or they just pretend to be clueless at this point. Besides see this?

there is more ff with Alastor/reader (disgusting) than there is Alastor with his canon orientation and to play the devils advocate for arophobic people there is more Angel/Alastor then his stated in the show sexuality. I understand that fandom goes back before the show was aired but Viv confirmed his orientation back then too.

Summary

I could go on and on bout different issues and maybe I will in the future but I'm not wasting anymore of this weekend on it. I'm ready to answer any questions as long as they are respectful.

I'm aware that he is a fictional character, it doesn't affect him in any way whatsoever but it does affect aromantic and asexual people keep it in mind.

If there are any mistakes grammar related I'm not sorry I'm fluent in English (not my first language) but I took 3h nap in between and I'm sleep deprived.

Have a nice day.

[almostfoxglove]

have Javier and reader ever talked about his relations when he was in Columbia? them being best friends and all. did she laugh it off? did she understand? I'm curious ☺️

HI SWEETHEART this made my day when I got it. I'm so sorry it took a while to answer but I hope you don't mind that I got a little carried away with this one... everything's weird and bad right now so I'm gonna post this and try to get some sleep - I hope you're taking care of yourself <3 thank you soso much for sending this ask, seriously it means the world. ily!! here's some tenderness for you.

javier confesses about colombia

an I'LL CARRY YOU drabble

Explicit (18+) | Javier Peña x f!reader | drabble 1.1k words CW: Allusion to canon-typical violence & trauma and two idiots being sickeningly in love.

You never push back on anything but his blame. 

headcanons and full drabble below the cut!

in ICY, javi leaves to colombia (the first time) at twenty-eight (seen in part II). between that moment and when he returns aged thirty-six (seen in part I), they have no contact because her phone number changes, so when he calls her right after leaving (seen in dark heart), he thinks she's icing him out for good. *sobs gently*

we know he disappears again at the end of part I and doesn't return until he comes home for good at the end of part II. between those two meetings, they also have no contact - so his girl doesn't hear a thing about colombia (and by extension, all his sexual escapades), though she follows the news.

in the year after his return (all of part III) I don't think much of what happened down there comes up. javi's traumatized, still acclimating to civilian life while his girl's engaged *sobs harder*, and I imagine he's scared to admit his role in all the death and violence. if / when she asks, I think he keeps it pretty vague and chooses not to talk about the women he was involved with (they aren't together yet, after all)

POST-FINALE HOWEVER, javi tells her pretty much everything in little chunks at a time, including about all the women he slept with and what he knows of what became of them (I imagine the helena story is an especially tearful / difficult retelling, but it's important to him that she knows the truth). he's pretty terrified it'll scare her off, but I think we know her better than that.

here's a peek at what I imagine part of that conversation looked like <3

It’s the middle of the night and he’s not yet buying it, still has that little wrinkle above his nose that folds when he scowls cutting deep into his brow. Propped against the wall in his little twin bed, when you insist Javier’s dark eyes dodge yours and fall to the hands that knot themselves in his lap, anxious. But anxious is fine—just means he’s talking. Cutting off slabs of those missing years like meat from a bone for you to carry.

You’re grateful to be given anything at all. You know how deep trust like this really goes, unseen but branching. Mycelium underground. 

You never push back on anything but his blame. 

“Baby,” you say softly, and his jaw ticks as the word melts him a touch. 

His chin might flicker briefly like his body longs to cry, but if it does he wrestles it back before meeting you with dark, helpless eyes. “You don’t know,” he says, no cruelty in it. His voice not much more solid than a whisper and slaughtered red by guilt.

“Know you though,” you say.

The sigh that cuts out of him could shatter you. Javier turns to stretch out length-wise on the bed, his socked feet hanging off the end. You moved in weeks ago but haven’t gotten around to upgrading to a bigger mattress and part of you believes—though you’d never say it—that he’s waiting to get through all this first. Like the hurt of him needs to be here to do it: in the bed where you both once were small, held. So you allow it, take turns groaning in the daylight hours about your backs and hips and necks, and at night you hold each other ‘cause you have to, to fit in this little thing. Not that you wouldn’t, anyway. Not that either of you know how to sleep without the weight of the other’s body anymore. 

You always did sleep best beside him.

When he’s settled, you slip down to lie against him, propped up on one elbow with your torso folded over his and one arm draped across his hips. Javier sighs, pleased by the weight of you, and closes his eyes. 

“Was different there,” he says, after a long moment. “M’different now.” 

Outside the crickets are rioting again, ribbiting their threaded symphony. You push the hair back from his face—more pewter than ever but so familiar in its waves and curls—and watch the twitching of his face, all the microscopic ways he wrestles with some unnamed memory. 

You give him his time. All this patient, open air until he swallows and starts to say, “Didn’t do right—” 

It isn’t that his voice cracks, just that it stops all at once like someone’s lifted the needle off a record. Though you don’t know precisely what he’s trying to say, you sense its jagged outline. Can feel the memory slicing him anytime he speaks. Below you, Javier clears his throat. “Didn’t do right by them.”

Deep breath, then you push.

“Did you hurt them,” you ask, your voice quiet but solid, firm.

Though his brows fold low, his eyes stay closed. Swallows again. “No,” he says.

“Did you touch them without their consent,” you go on. “Do anything they didn’t want.”

“No,” Javier replies.

“Were you cruel?”

He shifts, uneasy. Mutters back a weak and whispered, “No.” Sometimes he has trouble with this one and stumbles over the answer, but tonight he’s got it right.

You know all this, of course. You’re not asking for you because you already know the answers—know him, whether he wants to admit it right now or not. Doesn’t matter that he’s different now; so are you. So is everybody. Tragedy doesn’t let a goddamn thing stay the same. And while you’ve always known you’ll never see nor fathom the whole, vicious picture—what living down there through years of violence laid ghost and seed beneath his skin—there’s not a bone in your body that believes him malicious. 

At first he worried, but you don’t care about the bodies he lost himself in. All the women he held and had. Sort of surprised you too, but you didn’t learn of them until after you’d found each other again, for good this time, and so what was there to be afraid of? That there’d been, in the worst of his agony, warm hands and welcome bodies? 

No, you don’t care. Doesn’t matter the number. 

You’re glad that at least for small, clustered minutes, he wasn’t always alone.

“Did you try?” you ask. This is the big one, the one you know hurts most for him to hear. “To help them.”

In the turquoise cover of early night, Javier’s face crumples in. Forehead canyoned by lines, his eyes swallowed by miserable, crinkled Vs. You see no glossy tears slip loose but they must be in there, hidden under his lashes when for so long he holds his breath like he can’t trust his own lungs or own mind. While you wait, you lay one palm in the center of his chest and the shimmer of moonlight winks off your hand, reflected in the flat face of a garnet, making silver of red and pearl. It feels, for the moment it’s bright, a little like having his mother back. Like you can feel her in the room, holding him with you.

Javier’s heart hammers beneath your touch, then his hand bolts up to cover yours as if to keep you there. As if you’d ever pull away. “I—”

You press down gently, give him your warmth, your weight, and his hand tightens in kind.

“I wanted to,” he croaks.

“Did you try?”

And it breaks him, chokes him. One wet sound punches out of his chest but he’s tough, soft bits and all. Something in him’s always just known how to hold on. How to take it, for better or worse. But it’s for the better here, you’re certain. Because he won’t survive believing himself evil—you see that clearly, illuminated like a streetlamp casting gold over a night-dark road. If he doesn’t see that he tried, doesn’t let himself feel it, one of these days the guilt will kill him.

It’s just the one ragged breath, then he pebbles apart perfectly still. Steady, you leaden your weight on his sternum, press down a little harder, and Javier grips your hand with greater need. All his warring goes on quietly, invisible in all but his head.

“M’right here,” you tell him gently.

He nods, his eyes still shut. His breaths slow and agonizing.

“Right here,” you say.

Together you wait for the spell to pass, for the storm to clear, until finally the clouds part over him and he sucks one longer, deeper breath, dragging all the room’s air into his lungs. There it is, there he is, solidifying under your palm. Seaming back together, stained glass made new. 

“I tried,” Javier breathes.

His face unfurls and the deep lines once carved with a knife fall smooth. The wrinkles stay of course, all the evidence of his life, but they’re softer now. You trace the crows feet at the corner of his eyes with your thumb and find his skin hot and damp. 

“I know you did, baby,” you whisper to him. “You tried.”

Suddenly his arms fly up and crush you to his chest—so startled, you yelp and can’t help but chuckle as his grip tightens and tightens. You let him squeeze you, your arms trapped under his, and hum softly when you feel his nose against your hair. Carefully he inhales, then slow he exhales: something he’s picked up in his sessions, attended twice a month. Which is how you know that although he’s fallen silent, he’s busy in his mind reminding himself of frivolities. All the tiny bits he must have missed in those long, distant years he spent away from you, believing you hated him. 

You imagine cut grass and July sunshine, beer bottles ice cold on the porch with his pop,

and rolling cigarettes in the bed of the pickup at sixteen, laughing at the sour clouds choking out of you when you couldn’t hold your smoke,

and birthday parties,

and your hand, at every age, in his.

He knows better now, that you never hated him and never could. Knows too that you’ve loved him all the years he’s loved you and will all the years you have left.

Eventually you feel the air shift as he comes home into his body. With his chest smushed tight against the shell of your ear, you’re half asleep, adrift in the deep throb of his pulse. You feel his mustache, the graze of his lips, and the quiet murmur of his voice calling you another name. New, these last weeks. It still surprises you, the sweetness of mi amor on his tongue, in his mouth.

“Get some sleep,” Javier murmurs as his arms go slack around you without pulling away.

“Only if you do,” you mumble in reply, eyes feathering open just long enough to catch the last of the sky’s deep blue. Then they’re closed again. Everything is warm and black.

“M’right behind you,” he says, and soon you’re both asleep.

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3 tag list below!

@pedritosgfreal @thundermartini @guiltyasdave @jolapeno @reluctanthalfwayoptimism 

@myownwholewildworld @sunnytuliptime @indiegirlunited @anoverwhelmingdin @pedrospatch

@bergamote08 @harriedandharassed @casssiopeia @sweetpascal @half-moon16 

@noisynightmarepoetry @theoraekenslover @luxurychristmaspudding @kyberblade @toomanytookas 

@itsokbbygrl @wannab-urs @milla-frenchy @yopossum @beezusvreeland

@katw474 @bluesweaters15 @jessthebaker @encasedinobsidian @ppascalrain

@yxtkiwiyxt @schnarfer @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @iknowisoundcrazy

@whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @missladym1981 @ro-nahime-things @helenanell

[dee-writes-anime]

Hello ! How you doing ?

I noticed that your requests are open, so i'm gonna yap about my favorite Winged Hero: Keigo !

I always think about reader being in a relationship with Hawks, but she feels like she doesn't really belong with him. He is famous, popular and very loved by his fans, meanwhile she likes to live a calm life, only talking and getting involved if someone reaches for her first.

Reader intends to break up with him, but his bird brain got a different message about it: he thinks she just needs more attention and more courting gifts.

So now reader has a collection of shiny rocks, lots of scented blankets and shirts, and a nonstop whistling Keigo around her.

I just really love the idea of Hawks tagging himself as a No refund Partner 🤭

(Feel free to ignore this, if you don't like it. Sending you lots of love, your writting is amazing 🥰)

No Refunds!

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami i x Reader

SUMMARY You fear that Keigo's fast-paced life is too much for you and try to take a step back, but it doesn't seem to work out that well for you. It's just too bad Keigo doesn't believe in refunds.

CONTENT WARNINGS quiet reader, hawks being a literal bird

AUTHORS NOTE hope you all enjoy more of our feather-winged hero because, based on these requests, y'all can't seem to get enough of him!

You’d imagined this moment for weeks—a careful plan to untangle yourself from the wings of a man who seemed to live a world apart from your own. Keigo’s life was a loud one, a kaleidoscope of flashing lights, bright interviews, fans hanging on his every word and movement. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he belonged somewhere out there, in the heart of the storm, while you were left holding onto calmness, craving quiet.

So you’d practiced your words, rehearsed in the mirror, hoping to explain it gently: Keigo, you’re amazing, but I don’t fit into this life. You deserve someone who can keep up, who thrives under a spotlight.

But as you sat across from him in the dimly lit corner of your apartment, watching him devour his meal with an unshakable confidence, all those carefully chosen phrases began to slip away. The man was impossible to ignore, so vividly alive in his unbridled energy, his mouth curling into a familiar, teasing grin every time he caught you looking. It was like trying to capture a gust of wind in your hand—the moment you thought you had him pinned, he shifted, always a step ahead, eyes twinkling with that irreverent humor that made your heart ache.

“Keigo, I just…” you began, feeling your courage falter under his steady gaze. He didn’t miss a beat, his fork pausing in midair as he gave you his full attention.

“Go on,” he said, his voice low but attentive, his eyes narrowing with a glint of curiosity that warned you he wasn’t going to let anything slide by unnoticed.

You took a breath, trying to anchor yourself. “I just… sometimes I feel like I don’t really belong in your world,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air, and Keigo stared at you, unblinking, as if you’d just told him something in a language he didn’t quite understand. After a moment, he let out a soft chuckle, eyes shining with that familiar, playful disbelief. “You? Not belong with me?” He shook his head, leaning back in his seat with that cocky, amused grin that somehow melted the tension in the room. “I don’t buy that, not for a second.”

Your heart twisted painfully, but before you could explain, he shifted closer, closing the space between you with the effortless grace of a hawk zeroing in on its mark. He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm, a hint of softness underlying his typically mischievous gaze.

“Listen,” he said, his voice a soft murmur, “if you’re worried about keeping up with me, don’t be. You ground me, you know? Not everything has to be about the spotlight.” He leaned in, and his thumb brushed your cheek, a gentle, fleeting touch that left you breathless. “You’re my calm in all the chaos, you know that?”

Your resolve wavered, and all you could manage was a quiet nod before he kissed your cheek, lingering just long enough to leave a warmth behind. As he left that night, your mind kept replaying that look in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability that felt strangely out of place on him.

The next morning, you woke to find something glinting on your bedside table. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and there it was—a smooth, shining rock, no larger than your thumb, with flecks of gold swirling through its charcoal-gray surface. You reached for it slowly, as if it might vanish at any moment, the unexpected gift settling warm and solid in your palm.

A small folded note rested beside it, scrawled with Keigo’s messy handwriting: Something pretty, just like you! – K

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, though it came with a pang of sadness. So this was his response? He wasn’t angry or upset; instead, he left a little piece of beauty for you, something that made you feel strangely… cherished. As if he was whispering, See? You’re part of my world. I want you here.

If only he left it at that..

The next morning, as you opened your front door, you found a Hawks-branded bag stuffed with the coziest-looking items imaginable. Luxurious blankets, soft enough to melt in your fingers, with colors that reminded you of his wings—deep crimsons and warm golden yellows. There was a plush feather-shaped pillow tucked inside, soft and inviting, as if he’d tried to bottle the feeling of his own feathers just for you.

Another note, taped to the top of the bag: For when you want a cozy night in, courtesy of your favorite Winged Hero.

In a daze, you pulled the pillow out, feeling the way it seemed to form to your touch, soft and strangely comforting, like you were holding a part of him in your hands. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, though it was tinged with disbelief. Hawks, your Keigo, was attempting to make your space his nest—one soft corner at a time.

You weren’t sure what to think. The gifts kept coming, like waves lapping persistently at the shore, never once relenting. Soon, you had a growing collection of glimmering stones, each unique in color, shape, and size. Some had ribbons tied around them, others were polished to a glassy sheen. By the end of the week, you could open your own boutique: Hawks’ Feathered Finds.

It was almost funny, in a way, how Keigo’s gift ideas seemed to expand. If the shiny stones weren’t enough to convince you of his commitment, the silky blankets and cozy pillows that soon followed would certainly drive the point home.

But as much as the blankets were a nice touch, that wasn’t enough either. No, Keigo’s gifts evolved in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Not satisfied with just leaving inanimate reminders of himself, he began to bring his own shirts, freshly washed and scented with that clean, faintly spicy cologne that was unmistakably his. Each time he left one, it felt like he was marking his presence all over again. When you came home one day to find three different button-ups hanging over your chair, neatly folded with another note—“So you won’t miss me too much”—you realized how completely he’d misunderstood your meaning.

And it didn’t stop there.

You started hearing bird calls, from sharp whistles to melodic chirrups, each one distinct and practiced. They’d come at random times during your day, clear and unmistakable, carrying across rooftops or echoing down quiet streets. Keigo would appear out of nowhere with a casual “Hey,” as if he hadn’t just called you over like a sparrow to its nest. Once, you looked out the window and spotted him standing on the rooftop opposite yours, watching you with that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes as he gave a gentle coo that made your cheeks flush.

Then there was the food. Keigo made it a habit to bring takeout on the evenings he knew you were working late, showing up with your favorite dishes and a grin that always promised a good story to go along with them. He’d kick off his shoes like he’d lived there forever, settling in as if he belonged, yet somehow always a little hesitant. You could tell he was waiting, looking at you as if searching for any sign that his gifts were having an effect.

Finally, one evening after he’d tucked a particularly soft blanket around you with all the precision of a nesting bird, you couldn’t help but ask, “What exactly are you doing, Keigo?”

He looked up from where he’d just finished arranging the folds of the blanket on your couch, his feathers twitching at your question. “What do you mean?” he asked, his amber eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“Keigo…” you said, trying to hold back a laugh as you gestured around your apartment, now cluttered with glistening stones, colorful feathers, and shirts that still carried his scent. “You’re… making a nest in my apartment.”

His wings fluttered, a small chuckle escaping as he scratched the back of his head. “Guess you could call it that.” He crossed over to where you sat, his gaze growing softer. “But I’m just making sure you know you’re not going anywhere.”

You shook your head, equal parts amused and bewildered. “I… I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Undeterred, Keigo leaned in, his head tilting down just slightly so his eyes met yours, the mischief in them mingling with something warmer, something that pulled at your heart. “Maybe not,” he murmured, his tone more serious than you’d ever heard. “But I don’t give up that easily. You don’t just get to decide you’re going to leave, y’know?”

A small pang tightened in your chest. How could someone like him, someone whose life glittered with fame and thrill, expect to keep someone like you by his side? Yet, looking into his eyes, you saw something deeper, even a little vulnerable, as his thumb traced soft circles over your hand.

“Keigo… I’m not…” you began, trying to find the words. “I just… sometimes I feel like I’m not cut out for this, like I don’t belong in this world of yours.”

He watched you for a long moment, his gaze gentle but unwavering. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, his wings rustling, “you’re not holding me back. You’re the calm in my storm. And I’m not about to let that slip away.” His hand tightened around yours just slightly. “Besides, I never heard any rule about ‘no refunds’ not applying to relationships. So guess what? You’re stuck with me.”

You looked around, taking in the stones, the blankets, the shirts—this strange, feathered haven he’d created around you, like a nest meant just for the two of you. You hadn’t realized you’d been dating an actual bird until now, and it hit you with a surprising warmth, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, you did belong here after all.

TAGLIST:

@surielstea

[webslingingslasher]

J!!! I don't remember if nerdy!peter plays video games but I'm pretty sure he does 😓 how would he react when angel keeps wanting his attention but he keeps saying 10 more minutes so she gets annoyed 😓😓

I literally love all your Peter's sm idek how u have the mind for all this!!

*cleaning out my drafts* wheew boy, i hope you guys remember nerdy!peter. he's been on a shelf too long!

peter doesn't even blink when you kiss the side of his face- he doesn't notice in the slightest. you hold in a sigh and mutter out a half-hearted goodbye.

'i'm leaving, i'll call you later.'

suddenly, peter's available to talk. 'woah, wait, you're leaving? why?' you bite your tongue, there's a dozen things you want to say and none of them are nice. if you stay, you'll cause a fight.

'because i'm mad at you and if i don't, we're gonna have a fight.' peter gives you puppy dog eyes, he's pre-apologizing and he doesn't know what for yet. they always soften you but when he turns away to check his screen, you harden right back up.

'i had no eyes, sorry, sorry. med pack, please.' you can only put up with so much and a game taking priority over your relationship was just a straw too much. 'you're about to have no girlfriend.'

peter hits mute real fast, tossing his headset off and standing up even quicker. he's looking at you like a deer in headlights, 'you said what?'

'i shouldn't have to threaten a break up for you to listen to me, peter.'

'i was listening! you were fine then all of a sudden you're stomping out of here and calling me single.' he’s not allowed to care when you get mad, he should've cared the last five times he said ten more minutes.

'i'm leaving.'

peter blocks the door, you cross your arms over your chest. 'talk to me.' you're being petty because it's the first time he's giving you attention since you've been here. it's nice to have him worry over you.

'no, i'm mad at you.'

'yeah, i picked up on that. wanna tell me why?' your eyes narrow, he can’t act cute when you're pissy. 'no.' peter gives you a pity smile but he's not sad at all. 'then i can't let you leave, sorry.'

'you think holding me captive will fix things?' there was a snap with your voice, peter takes a step away from the door. he was half and half with your tone but after that he feels the need to back down.

'you're actually mad at me.' peter doesn't like when you're upset with him, it makes him feel all itchy. 'you can leave, angel. if you think it'll help, you can leave. but i would really like it if you told me what was going on first.'

you and peter make communication a priority but this time you want to be childish. if he couldn't understand why you were mad, he obviously didn't respect your time. you wouldn't act like this if it was the first time, but it’s everytime you come over and he's already on his computer.

you're getting tired of begging for your boyfriend to choose you over a video game, especially after he told you to come over.

'no. i'm leaving and i want you to think about why i would be mad at you.' peter whines in return, he hates when you don't give him an answer. 'angel, please. this is punishment enough.'

the issue is how well you know him. he's going to pout and give you kisses while he tells you how sorry he is and he never meant to make you feel ignored. it always makes you forgive him too quick, you don't want him to apologize for it, you want him to acknowledge it.

'you're gonna try to excuse it and kiss it better and i don't want that. i want you to look me in the eye and tell me you've been shitty.' peter's already giving you that pouty look, you ignore the clench your heart gives when he pulls you closer by your hips.

'i'm still gonna kiss it better, i'll just tell you i'm shitty while i do it.' you don't gripe when he gives you a chaste kiss. you don't tell yourself you're going back on your word, just that he didn't give you one when you first got here.

'wanna tell me why i made you mad?' you love when peter talks to you like this. it's not a whisper, but it's low. it's almost guttural- a ring of sexual if you looked at it the right way. when he pairs it with two wet kisses to your cheek, you have to remind yourself to stay strong.

'your game.' you silently moan when peter pushes your back against his door, he drops a mark to your neck. 'mhm, what about my game?' you're not sliding a hand into his hair to egg him on, it's to support yourself, that's it.

'you were ignoring me again.'

peter's lips catch anywhere they can meet, you think you're about to start sweating. 'i hate begging for your attention, i don't want to do it anymore.' peter's kissing your sweet spot, you try to keep your focus.

'angel, no one has my attention more than you.' there's only so much you can fight and peter's pillowy kisses isn't one of them. you're not forgiving, you're just compartmentalizing. plus peter's the best damn kisser you've ever had.

‘until you’re on discord with your friends.’ you’re reminded of your anger, you push peter off and glare at him. ‘if i didn’t tell you i was leaving, would you have even noticed?’

'of course i would, i check on you every couple of minutes.' peter might suck at giving up a winning streak but he makes sure to put his eyes on you every two minutes.

'making sure i'm still here isn't the same as giving me attention. and dump me if i'm wrong, but i want a boyfriend who's a little obsessed with me.' peter kisses the middle of your throat, it spurs more frustration.

'if you wanted to fuck me, you should've done something about it an hour ago. you don't get to disrespect me then put your dick in me.' peter exhales over your skin, it feels like a laugh. you don't know why he thinks you're joking. he reads your mind before you can say it.

'angel, i'm not trying to seduce you. i'm trying to show you how obsessed you make me.' you give him your neck and he softly bites, just like that, the fight's over. 'go on... i'm listening.'

'i've been shitty.'

peter's kisses make sense, they've been on a subtle trail downwards. he sinks to his knees on the floor, hooking your leg around his shoulder and looking up at you. looking up with his angelolatry duties.

'and now i'm gonna kiss it better.' 

[islandtarochips]

Farmer!Ghost x Female!Reader

Arhtur's Note: I apologize for taking so long to post this everyone. It takes a while for me to find a good story to it and I was busy helping out with my family and work. So I hope this is worth the wait. Let me know if I miss anything or which part that doesn't make sense and I'll re-edit quickly! Thank you so much for your patience! And also, I have added the names of you guys having two friends. Just in case you get mixed if you thought they were part of the COD universe. Thank you! And enjoy!

Words: 3376

Halloween is tonight and everyone in town is busy preparing for this fun event. The mayor in town had already planned on making the best Halloween Festival YET!

There will be some foods, drinks, games, fun rides-

EVERYTHING that is on the list. And you were quite excited!

You even volunteered to help out with the food vendor. Along with your friends as well.

You were in charge of the food as you made sure that the orders will be delivered on that exact date in time. And you also offered your own cooking and baking for the little kids. The leaders of the committees agreed to it and will send someone to deliver EVERYTHING that you needed for the food preparation.

Which you don’t mind. So you and your friends are at the big hall, in the kitchen, busy cooking.

“This is SO exciting!” One of your friends said in a chirpy tone while putting the pans of cupcakes and a pan of cake into the oven. “This will be the BEST festival yet!”

The other friend of yours nodded as she agreed. “Yeah! And hopefully it’ll be better than LAST year.”

You just smiled at your two friends, who are named Rebecca and Sally, talking about the festival. You started to cook some nice meals for the special events before giving a taste test.

“Hey, what are you gonna wear for Halloween? I’m going to be that sexy vampire!”

“Mine is just being a witch. I’m also bringing that big cauldron for apple bobbing!”

You gave them a smile before hearing them asking you what you’re going to wear. You shook your head as you went back to cooking. “I don’t have anything to wear for the festival. Just casual clothes.”

“WHAT?!?” The two friends of yours had made that horror expression as if they received the news of someone DYING.

Rebecca had started to walk over to you as she stood next to you. “What do you mean you have nothing to wear for the festival? Come on! It’ll be so cool and cute of you wearing SOMETHING!”

You just shrugged at them. “I wanted to. Really. But to tell you the truth. I didn’t have time to look for one. I was SO busy getting everything ready before tonight. So for this year only, I’m not gonna wear anything.”

The two best friends looked at each other before looking back at you with an unsatisfying look.

Sally had walked up towards you before gently taking your cooking ware away from your hands. Which you looked at her with a confusing look.

“Girl! You can’t just leave us hanging with the costume! We’ll help you to get one!”

The other one nodded with agreement as she smiled at you. “Yeah! You can worry about the food while the two of us find you a GOOD looking outfit!”

You shook your head as a small smile appeared on your lips. “No no no. It’s okay. I’ll just pass this year. Promise. I know how much you girls wanted all of us three dressing up! But please understand that I’ve been busy preparing all of this.”

The two girls pouted but sigh in defeat when you bring up your reason.

Rebecca shrugged a bit. “Fine. But NEXT year, if you’re busy then let us know. We can help you pick your outfit!”

Sally nodded in agreement. “Yes! Promise us that!”

You just giggled but agreed with the girls. “Promise!”

While the three of you continued cooking and baking, you heard a knock from the entrance in the front door.

“Special delivery!” A heavy Scottish accent called out through the door.

You walked over to open it and saw it was a young man. He seems to look like in his late 20s and has a mohawk on his head. Wait, a mohawk?

“Good day to ye, lass! Here to drop off these boxes of flour, butter, some seasoning and some fruits? Are you the one who orderit?” He asked with a genuine smile as you smiled back at him.

You nodded in response before stepping aside. “Yes! You can go ahead, bring it in and head to the back. The kitchen is right in there.”

He nodded before walking in. And then you saw someone else followed behind him with another box in hand. Another young man who has a cap on his head with a UK flag on it. He also looks like in his late 20s. The man gave his charming smile to you as he nodded in greetings.

“Ma’am.”

You smiled and nodded back before watching him following the man who was in front.

And then to your surprise, you saw another man. A man who is taller than the first two that came in. A brown short hair, with brown eyes and is also wearing a black mask covering his mouth and nose. He looked down on you, seeing you with quite a surprising look.

“Madame.” His deep British accent had softly gone through your ears. As you weren’t expecting to hear that kind of tone.

You slowly nodded at him and watched him pass by as he followed the other two into the kitchen. You quickly follow as well before peeking inside to see your two best friends are talking with the two boys. It seems like that man with a mohawk was flirting with Sally while the man in the cap was just talking with Rebecca.

You just smiled a bit to see them getting along so quickly. So you stepped inside as you saw the tall man putting the boxes down on the floor. You were staring at him for a bit as you took a good look at him.

He stood up and looked at his buddies as he started to tell them to stop flirting.

You smiled a bit to see the two boys were just being embarrassed of how that dark brown hair man was calling them off. Before you noticed him looking in your way.

“Sorry ‘bout those two. They can be VERY addicted to seeing pretty ladies. Mostly my very dumb friend named Johnny over there.” He said as he pointed at the guy with a mohawk behind him.

You giggled to hear the mohawk man calling out to him.

“OI! I am NOT dumb!”

“You are. With your LAME pick up line.”

“Like you can do any better, Si?”

“I can do 10 times BETTER than your corny ass line.”

You couldn’t help but giggle so much and even your two friends also started giggling and laughing with you. While the man with the cap just sighs and shakes his head before walking over to stop the two.

“Hey hey hey! Not in front of the ladies. That’s a very bad first impression AND bad luck, you know?” He turned to face you and your friends as he started to rub behind his head. “Apologies ladies, we’ll be heading out now.”

Rebecca looked saddened all of a sudden when he said that. “Aaaaw…already?”

He smiled a bit at her and nodded. “Yeah. We still got more deliveries to take care of.”

The two girls looked sad to hear that they’re going to leave. Until that man named Johnny had an idea.

“Hey! I know that we just met. But the boys and I are free tonight. Do you want to join us?”

You glanced to see the girls were looking excited as you smiled a bit. So you looked at him and shook your head. “Sorry. I’m a bit busy tonight since I’ll be serving the food.” Then you started to walk towards your girlfriends as you placed both of your arms around their shoulders each. “Buuuuuuuut my friends are available tonight. Right girls?”

The two ladies looked at you in shock as you had lost your MIND.

“Uuuh…WHAT are you doing?” Sally whispers to you.

“Yeah, don’t you need our help? There will be LOTS of people coming to your booth.” Rebecca also whispered to you as she agreed with her friend.

Which she is not wrong. Yes, there will be BUNCH of people coming over for food but you handle this before. You're sure that you’re okay with this and it is fine for your two friends to have some fun!

So you started to whisper to them back. “Don’t worry! I got this! You two can go ahead and CHARM your way with these boys while I’ll handle the booth.” You gave them a reassuring smile and a wink. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

The two girls looked at each other again but with more worried looks on their faces. As they could see your warm smile, telling them that it’s alright, they finally gave in and turned to look at the boys.

“Yeah! We’re available!” Sally said as she smiled at Johnny.

The mohawk man smiled at her with glee. “Awesome! We’ll see you tonight at…?”

You raised your hand a bit. “Our booth will be next to the Ferris Wheel! You’ll meet them there!”

The man with the cap nodded and smiled at them. “Alright then, we’ll be there and…are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked you as you can see that he’s feeling a bit bad.

You nodded as you gave him a thumbs up. “Sure I’m sure! Someone HAS to take care of the food booth!”

He smiled a bit as he nodded and tipped his cap. “Alright then and also, I apologize for not introducing ourselves. I’m Kyle. Kyle Garrick. But most of them call me Gaz.” Then he put his arm around his friend’s shoulders before patting his chest. “This is John MacTavish.”

He nodded at you and the girls. “You can call me, Soap.”

Sally snickered when she heard that name. “Soap? Why do they call you that?”

“Aye, cause I cleaned up nicely.” He said with a wink.

“Not with your room you’re not.” The tall man with the mask had said while rolling his eyes.

“OI! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS CRITICIZE ME WHENEVER I TRY TO TALK TO A LASS?!?”

“Just trying to save her from going out with a dumb Scots like you.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING DUMB?!?”

Everyone started to laugh before settling down as the girls introduced themselves to them before exchanging phone numbers with the two boys. But your eyes had caught onto the tall man who was just looking at the four.

You slowly crossed your arms while rocking back and forth a little on your feet. Before looking at him. “So um…what’s YOUR name?”

He glanced down at you. Looking at you for a good minute before he looked back at his friends and yours. “Simon. Simon Riley.”

“Are you also dressing up for tonight?”

He shook his head. “Not into these Halloween things. Just want to walk around the festival. So I don’t think I’ll be going with those guys. Might make me a 5th wheel with them.” You giggled at that last response. “Ah. I see. Well, if you want. You can hang out with me at the food booth if you’re not going with them. Buuuuut I might be busy.”

He shrugged a bit as he looked at you with his brown eyes. “I don’t mind.”

You couldn’t help but find his eyes a bit intimidating but yet quite kind at the same time.

So they all agreed that they’ll meet at the food booth.

—-----------------------------------------------

Tonight is the night of Halloween. And every child in town is running around, taking a look at these fun events. Along with their friends and families.

While you and the girls on the other hand were REALLY busy selling those goodies that you guys have made. Everyone really enjoys your cooking and baking goods. Not a single person has been missed with their orders.

After a few while, the crowds had started to die down a bit. Which you three had FINALLY taken a break for a while.

“Damn…It almost feels like you have put a magic charm on these foods! I mean, did you SEE how many people just came?” Rebecca, who is dressed as a Witch, said with an exhaustion tone in her voice as she leaned back against the counter.

“I KNOW! Fuck man…what is your secret recipe though?” Sally, who is dressed as a Vampire, asked as she looked at you. “The whole TOWN can’t stop buying these!”

You smiled tiredly as you giggled lightly from your friend's compliment. “Well, I do want the people to ENJOY it. And it’s no secret at all! Just a bit of love and viola!”

The two girls just look at each other with an unamused look and look back at you while crossing their arms.

“Bullshits.” They said in unison before laughing with you.

Then you noticed the three boys that you’ve met earlier this morning had walked over.

“Good evening ladies. Don’t you look extravagant.” Kyle, who is dressed up as a wizard, said with a smile to see the three of you. Before he looked over to Rebecca seeing that she’s a Witch. “Ah. I see that you’re ALSO a magical person here.”

Rebecca just giggled. “Indeed I am, my pretty! But we ALL know that a Witch has the powerful potential of cursing anyone in her path!” Saying in her witch voice as she cackled with laughter.

The two just laughed at this.

Soap, who dressed up as a werewolf, then just smirked to see Sally in her Vampire costume. “Awooo~ A vampire is ya?~ Micht wanna be careful with me, lass. Ye know how vampire an werewolf are~”

Sally smirked back at this Scottish werewolf man before leaning in as she poke his chest. “Oh I know~ And I’ll take the risk~”

You rolled your eyes as you saw the two flirting before seeing Simon looking at you. You smiled at him before waving at him softly seeing him just wearing his black hoodie and blue jeans with shoes on.

He waved back a bit before seeing Gaz was nudging his arm. He just rolled his eyes seeing his smirk before walking up to you. He took a look around your booth before leaning on the counter. “Not too shabby. How’s the business going?”

You just smiled while still prepping the food and desserts into the display case. “It went VERY well. And I see you’re not wearing anything?”

“Like I said, not into these Halloween things.”

Before you two continued to talk, you felt a hand on your shoulder as you saw it was Rebecca.

“Okay! We’re gonna go! Now, are you SURE you can handle this? We can still stay.”

You nodded at her before touching her hand. “I’ll be okay. Besides, I have my extra helper over here!” You pointed at Simon.

Your friend saw him nodding at her as she smiled a bit before calling out to him. “Try to help her out will ya?”

Simon just nodded as a response and gave a thumbs up.

Soon the four already walked away. Leaving only you and Simon alone. The two of you don't talk much except just making and selling your food. 

Simon was busy mixing the batter before taking a glance at you. You were just giving out some candies to the trick-or-treaters and handing them a bag of goodies. Seeing your sweet smile had really caught his eyes for some reason.

Why does he feel that towards you? You two just met and he also doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. He looked back at what he was doing before you finished giving the kids their treats.

You had started to bring out another tray of desserts before looking at Simon. “Hey, you wanna taste this?”

The tall man looked at your direction, seeing you showing the cupcake in your hand. He stopped what he was doing and started to walk over to you. You watched him take it as he pulled his mask down a bit before he took a bite. You were curious about why he was wearing that mask but judging by how quiet he was. You know that he doesn’t want to talk about it which you understand.

“So? How was it?” You asked him with a warm smile feeling excited of how he’ll respond to your baking expertise. But you saw him paused for a moment and he just withdrew the cupcake away from his lips as he stared at it for a bit. “Simon?”

He kept staring at the cupcake for a while as if something had made him feel...familiarize with this dessert. Soon he snapped out when you gently touched his arm. You gave him a worried look as he cleared his throat and pulled his mask back up. “Sorry, your cupcake is delicious. I bet the REST of your desserts are wonderful as well.”

You slowly nodded as you appreciated his words but you still felt a bit concerned for him. “Thank you…but are you alright, Simon?”

The British man was silenced as he kept staring at the cupcake before putting it down. “I’m alright. Just…remembered something.”

“Oh? What is it that you remembered?”

Simon was just looking at you with a loud silence between the both of you. The sound of people chattering and the children’s laughter had clouded out of your hearings. You know something that he wanted to share but is too afraid to even speak. So you just slowly walked over and stood in front of this man.

“Simon?”

“......I don’t want to bore you. And also, it’s just a burden that I have to carry.”

“Do you…wish to talk about it?”

“...No.”

You just gave him a small reassuring smile before taking his cupcake and gave it to him. “Then we don’t have to talk about it. Since I know we just met but I am here to listen.”

Simon had seen you handing his cupcake as he accepted and just stared at it. He sighed before starting to speak. “Your cooking…reminded me of someone that I know so close.”

You just nodded to let him continue.

“She had always made me great treats and it was…delicious.” He said softly before pulling his mask down again and took another bite from the cupcake. He proceeds on talking with you. “That’s all I could tell you. The rest…it’s for me to bear.”

You understood what he was saying and that last sentence had made you feel even MORE sympathy for him. “Of course, I understand. But…it will be better for you to let something out of your chest.” Then you place your hand on his back as you could see him looking at you with his brown eyes.

Damn. You can’t even help but to feel mesmerized by his brown eyes. You cleared your throat as you glanced away. “IF you’re ready to talk about it I mean.”

The two of you were just standing there in silence before you saw Simon was just staring at the cupcake. You then had an idea as you grabbed another cupcake for yourself.

“Hey, I’ll make you a deal. It’s not that kind of deal of you TALKING your problems to me.”

You saw that you caught his attention when he looked at you again.

“And that is what?”

“I can make you any kind of treats or food that someone of yours can make. IF you helped me to make some great buffet for thanksgiving next month.”

Simon just blinked at you when he listened to your offer. He started to chuckle deeply. “Oh love, I don’t know if your cooking skills are HALF as good as someone that I know of.”

You huffed as you crossed your arms. You’re going to make him EAT those words. “I can! And I will! Would you accept these deals?” You started to extend your hands towards him to shake on.

He looked at your hand and then looked at your eyes. He could see that you’re determined to make this for him. He sighed and reached his hand out and shook on yours. “Deal.”

You smiled as you nodded at him. “Alright then! Shall we begin discussing the food that you require?”

THE END

Tagging List: Opt In/Out

@pricescigar @justasmolbard @alypink @dirtfullofwork

@kaitaiga @deeptrashwitch @sweet-samnang @welldonekhushi

[sheerfreesia007]

Little Bit of Time

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 2,646

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Hyunjin unknowingly steals a promotion from you that you’ve been working towards for years and it causes your new friendship to sour slightly as you try to come to terms with being passed over for the promotion. What happens when he tries to get back into your good graces with the help of his shiny motorcycle?

“So did you see the new episode yet?” Asked Vicki as she walked out of the office building with you towards the parking lot where you both parked. It was the end of another busy workday and you were eager to get home so that you could relax and catch up on your shows before heading to bed.

”No, but I have it saved on my DVR. Going to hopefully catch up tonight once I get home.” You tell her as you hike up your messenger bag onto your shoulder. You both walked along the courtyard in front of your office building before she giggled brightly causing you to look at her confused before noticing she was looking towards the parking lot. Turning your head to the parking lot you groaned loudly and she giggled loudly again as the sound of a motorcycle engine rang out in the parking lot.

Hwang Hyunjin straddled his motorcycle with a seductive smirk on his face as he watched and Vicki walk towards the parking lot. He sat there dressed in his button up charcoal gray shirt with his blood red tie loosened around his neck while a pair of black dress pants hugged his lower half perfectly. He leaned forward on his motorcycle as if he was lounging in his bed and smirks softly at you as his eyes follow you.

Rolling your eyes you sigh softly, he couldn’t just let you have a day without crossing your path. Hwang Hyunjin was a gorgeous human and he knew it, but while you found him utterly ethereal there was one sole reason for you not to be happy to see him right now.

You had been working at the company for at least two years before he was hired on in the same department as you about three months ago. You had been on the fast track for manager and had been toiling away trying to show your supervisors that you were ready for the promotion and that you would be a perfect fit. And while when Hyunjin had first started in your department you had befriended the man and would often help him out with anything he didn’t understand or was struggling with. You had become fast friends but soon you noticed your supervisors began to favor him and ultimately chose him as the new manager when the position became available.

Ever since the announcement had come out two weeks ago that Hyunjin had been chosen for the manager position you had pulled away from the gorgeous man and now he was your new manager. It made you so angry that your supervisors had chosen him over you and he was so knowledgeable because you had helped him along the way! Every time you had to interact with him at work now always seemed to enrage you and sadden you. It was like you were being pulled in two different directions at the same time and it was starting to drag your mood down each day.

”You ladies need a ride home?” Hyunjin called out friendly and you scoffed softly as Vicki giggled softly before shaking her head.

”No thanks, Hyunjin. I drove today. But maybe she does?” She suggested as she waved her hand at you causing you to scowl darkly at her.

”Yeah? Need a ride home?” He asked hopefully as he leaned further across his bike to get closer to you. “I could give you a lift.” He said eagerly before he patted the seat of his motorcycle. Your eyes followed his hand movement and you frowned softly at it, you weren’t very keen on motorcycles preferring to be in a car or a bus. Motorcycles make you nervous. You were always worried about the riders falling off their bikes or skidding along the pavement.

”No thanks, I’m gonna take the bus.” You said dismissively as you waved your hand. Hyunjin’s hopeful look fell suddenly from his face and he looked at you dejectedly.

”My bike would be quicker than the bus.” He offered and you shook your head again.

”No thanks.” You said as you walked around his bike and him as he pouted softly at you. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed onto your wrist tugging you back towards him and you turned to scowl at him.

”I swear I didn’t purposely try going for the manager position.” He said softly to you and you looked up at him surprised as your mouth hung open slightly. “I was just trying to make friends and learn the ropes of the job from you. But when they offered me the position I couldn’t pass it up, especially with the pay upgrade.” He said honestly and you furrowed your eyebrows at him before you sighed softly at his reasoning. You understood it completely but it still stung you when he was chosen for the position over you when he had only been working there for a few months in comparison to your years of hard work.

”I get it. It still hurts though.” You told him softly. “Just give me some time to get over the hurt. I had been working for that position for two years and they chose you after only a few months. It’s frustrating and disheartening.” You told him honestly and he nodded his head at your words.

”I know, I’m sorry.” He said softly and you smiled bitter sweetly as you nodded your head at him.

”I gotta get going, the bus will be here soon.” You told him and he nodded quickly before letting go of your hand.

”I could still give you a ride.” He suggested and you shook your head.

”Bikes make me nervous. I’ll stick to the bus.” You told him honestly and he looked at you quietly before tilting his head at you with a curious look on his face. “What?” You asked cautiously.

”Just never pegged you as someone to be afraid of anything.” He said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

”I’m not afraid.” You insisted and he smirked softly at you teasingly. “I’m not. I just don’t trust them.” You told him haughtily and he chuckled softly before leaning towards you with a seductive smirk on his face.

”It’s not the bike you should trust but the rider.” He said softly and you gasped quietly as your head whipped up to stare into his eyes. “You better run, I think your bus is pulling up.” He teased softly and you quickly turned to see that your bus was slowly pulling up to the bus stop. You cursed softly and began racing for the bus as Hyunjin chuckled softly behind you.

Thankfully you had managed to catch the bus in time and as you sat down in a seat you silently watched out the window as Hyunjin waved at the bus before putting his helmet on and starting his bike and riding off. You sighed quietly to yourself knowing that it wouldn’t take you long to get over the sting of being looked over for the promotion; it would just take you a little bit to get used to.

*-*-*-*

The next week Hyunjin steps into his new role as manager and you’re tasked with being the lead on a new project for the department. The two of you have to work closely together since he’s the manager overseeing the project while you’re the lead and have to report to him. You hug your binder to your chest as you walk over to Hyunjin’s office and knock on his closed door.

”Come in!” He calls out and you slowly open the door to peek inside at him.

”Do you have a moment to go over the project? We found a slight issue with the coding on one of the programs and I.T. Is giving us a hard time about getting it fixed.” You advised and he nodded his head beaconing you forward. As you waited for him to review the binder you looked around his office noticing that he still hadn’t gotten all of his decorations up. The office was spacious but not too big, just the right size with some large windows that brightened up the room. It made you slightly envious as you sighed softly as your hurt rose up inside you once more.

“Alright, let me talk to the manager over I.T. And I’ll see what I can do.” He said easily and you nodded your head as you turned to look at him.

”Thanks boss.” You said before walking out of his office not catching the soft frown on his face.

*-*-*-*

The week after that is the presentation for the project to upper management and you’re a nervous wreck. You’re sitting in a chair around a large conference room table with Hyunjin sitting next to you. Suddenly you feel a hand slip over yours underneath the table and you look down at it before looking up at Hyunjin with wide confused eyes.

”You’re going to do great. You know this project inside and out. Don’t worry about anything and just explain the project to them.” He said softly as he leaned over towards you. You sucked in a soft breath and nodded your head at his words feeling your confidence rise with a boost.

With just his simple reassuring words you were able to successfully present the project to upper management and had done so well that they had agreed to accept the project as is and move along with it on the spot. You had been shocked that they agreed with the project and accepted it so easily but as you turned to stare at Hyunjin he had a wide pleased smile on his face as he stared back at you with soft knowing eyes.

*-*-*-*

That night as you’re cleaning up your desk space Hyunjin walks out of his office and notices you are still in the office. You don’t notice him coming up behind you until he’s right by your side and you’re jerking back away from him in surprise.

”Geeze, you scared the life outta me.” You tell him as you press a hand to your chest as you feel your heart racing from the fright.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said softly as he watched you continue to clean up your desk. “What are you still doing here? It’s late.” He asked curiously and you smiled softly at his concern. No matter that he was now your manager there was still the friendship you had built together, it was like a flowing river between the two of you.

”I had some to take care of tasks that I had to set aside while working on the project. I was lucky to be able to get them done.” You explained and he nodded his head at your words.

”The bus won’t run this late will it?” He asked softly and you shook your head as a soft smile slipped onto your lips.

”I’m going to call a cab to take me home. Don’t worry.” You told him and he stared at you silently for a moment.

”Or…” he began to say and you looked up at him with a furrowed eyebrow. “I could drive you home.” He suggested gently and you frowned softly at his suggestion.

”On your bike.” You said uneasily and he nodded his head quickly as his eyes sparkled with hope.

”I swear I’ll be extra careful with you behind me. You can hold onto me as tight as you need to. I won’t speed.” He began to rush out quickly and you frowned softly as you crossed your arms over your chest as you regarded him quietly. You were still uneasy about bikes but with the way Hyunjin was trying to reassure you that it would be okay and that it would be safe made you want to trust him. Taking in a deep breath you looked up at him for a moment as he stood there staring down at you.

”You promise to be extra careful?” You ask softly and he quickly nodded his head in reassurance.

”Yes, absolutely.” He said just as softly as he tried to curb his excitement at driving you home.

”Alright, fine. But this won’t be a habit.” You tell him firmly and he nods his head quickly at your words.

”Of course not.” He says before quickly grabbing your hand and walking you out of the building to the parking lot where he had parked his bike. He grabbed one of the helmets that he had strapped to his bike and placed it on your head before buckling it underneath your chin securely. He grinned happily as he tapped it a few times making you cry out as you batted his hands away causing him to chuckle happily at your antics. You watched as he put his own helmet on and secured it under his chin before he swung his leg over the bike and straddled it. “C’mon, hop on behind me.” He told you as he waited for you to climb on behind him.

You slowly swung your leg over the bike making sure not to hit him accidentally before you too straddled the bike but with a little bit of a struggle. The bike was large underneath you and your legs weren’t as long as Hyunjin’s so you had a slightly more difficult time straddling the bike. But as he directed you on where to place your feet you soon were settled on the bike and he slid back towards you until your front was flush to his back causing you to blush lightly at the contact. You then wrapped around arms around his waist and settled your cheek against his back.

When he started the engine you wrapped your arms tighter against his waist and heard him chuckle softly before he patted your hands gently. He then began to ease the bike out of the parking spot before slowly driving around the empty lot a few times before exiting out on the main road. You sighed softly thankful that he had driven around the parking lot allowing you to get used to the feel of the bike before getting onto the road. 

As you both drove along the roads you kept your eyes partially closed still feeling uneasy and nervous on the bike. But soon your eyes began to open as you felt the cooler air rushing around both you and Hyunjin. It woke you up and made you feel as if you were racing along the road even though he was driving at a slower speed like he had promised. You even began to take in the lights of the city as they rushed past you and you couldn’t help but admire the pretty picture they made.

You cuddled closer to Hyunjin’s back and slowly began to relax against him as you got used to his driving and his bike underneath you. One of Hyunjin’s hands came to rest over yours gently as he pulled up to a red light and you hummed softly along with the purr of his engine.

”So do you trust the rider more now?” He asked teasingly over his shoulder and you laughed softly at his question.

”I’m starting to.” You answered cheekily and he flicked the top of your hand causing you to laugh loudly in the nighttime air.

”I’ll take it for now. Eventually I’ll get you to completely trust me.” He teased back and you hummed softly as you rested your cheek against his back once again as he began to drive through the green light. Your eyes eagerly took in the lights of the city as he drove you home knowing that eventually you would come to trust him completely. It would just take a little bit of time.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[sokuly419]

I don’t typically make posts like this myself, but maybe some others would like to hear it. This is something of a stream of thought so sorry if it seems choppy and whatever.

I’m not going to sugar coat it. This election was absolutely awful. I know we’re all fucking terrified. We’re all grieving. Famous show hosts to politicians on both sides of the aisle are in tears with us.

I bawled before they called it. I cried once Trump broke 100 electoral votes well before Harris. I knew it was over by time I went to bed. My best friend tried to talk me out of it, telling me it wasn’t over until it was. I absolutely bawled when I saw 210. My wife held me while I just sobbed in a way I haven’t in a very long time.

I am terrified. And heartbroken. And pissed.

Now… we have to live. Trust me, I’m having those thoughts too. Many of us are. But the biggest middle finger you can give to them is to stay alive. They want us dead. We know that. Don’t make it easy for them. Don’t make any of this easy for them.

Take your time to cry, scream, lose control for a moment. But don’t kill yourself. You will have a place in fighting back that no one else can take. You don’t have to be on the frontlines. Just simply staying alive is fighting back and if that’s all you can give, we’ll take it.

Listen to your favorite song one more time. And maybe again after that. And again. Rewatch your favorite show or movie. Do it a few times so you don’t forget your favorite scenes or lines. Read your favorite book or fanfic. Escape for a bit. Make your favorite comfort food.

Are you looking forward to a new show? A new season of a show you like? A new movie maybe? Is one of your favorite musicians releasing new music soon? Do you have pets? They won’t understand and they’ll miss you.

I don’t care what you have to do to keep seeing the next day, just do it. I know it’s hard. I really, really do. I’ve been there. I’ve tried more than once. I still have those thoughts. And those thoughts got bad again with the outcome of the election. We’ve already lost so many people because of it, there’s no denying it.

I hope this can reach at least one person who needs it. If this can save even one person from taking their life, I’ll take it.

Right now, I’m looking forward to season 2 of Arcane. I rewatched season 1. A She-Ra rewatch is in my sights too. I’ve been listening to new (to me) music. If you have Spotify, the daylist is a good way to get new music through the day. I have pets and they wouldn’t understand. I can’t do that to them. And it would devastate my wife. And my family. I have yet to reread a couple of my favorite fics.

Take it from someone who lost a best friend to suicide. The grief… it’s not something that can be explained. You will be missed. Your best friend will scream and cry and cuss out every deity there is. They will feel like they failed you in every way. I don’t wish that kind of grief on anyone. If I didn’t have the list of things I’m pushing through for, the experience I went through definitely would make me think long and hard about it.

Now is the time we organize and fight back. And we can’t do it without you. You’re fighting back by living, so live. And keep living. Stay as safe as you possibly can. I love you, stranger reading this. I see you. Let’s hold hands or hug or whatever and just breathe together for a minute. We’re alive. And we have to stay that way for as long as possible.

Don’t forget: the first Pride was a riot.

We got this. We’re going to do it terrified. But we’re gonna do it. We have to. We owe it to those before us.

[cs-blank-au-official]

So hi guys

I've been inactive lately despite me saying that im going out of hiatus, but as it turns out i'm gonna need more time thanks to school 💥

Funny story, Back in the early stages of this au, Player x Blank was supposed to be fluff and soft. i ended up finding that boring in 2024 and was about to scrap Player x Blank entirely because I couldn't pick a good trope for them that really stuck to me.

Until RECENTLY.

I have a knack for basing my au on irl relationship dynamics i have with people, and this new dynamic between Player and Blank is definitely going to be spicy

@rositasnowie has been seeing the whole situation unfold, and she'll KNOW what i mean (ROSITA, VOUCH FOR MEEE)

In other words, Expect something new between Player and Blank unlike how i've been interpreting them in the past ^^

oh and the whole cs2019 is gonna get a huge change in character and theme after s4. because the current plot was a little underwhelming for me.

---

And to the curious ones who decided to look more into this, hallow :3

Let's just say, there's gonna be allot of individualism, cooperation issues, a shit ton of miscommunication, and a ton of allies you'd never expect to ever be possible

I'm pretty sure you'd expect some of these changes, but i assure you that i have more up my sleeve than what i tell people ^^

I have a knack of straying away from predictable tropes and scenarios, and having direct copies of other franchises themes and other aspects as compared to what i've seen from other written works, not that it's a bad thing but i just prefer my au to be unique in a way that makes it canonically connected and realistic (with a few tweaks here and there)

i've been very discreet about it lately as i've noticed how people have been taking a lil too much inspiration from my work :') i'm happy that people are moved by what i make ^^ but i hope you understand that i don't wanna end up like Hazbin Hotel with a whole season being leaked 😭

---

Overall, my au has been super delayed in writing progress thanks to stress 👍

But that ain't gon stop me bitchess

There were moments in my life that could've made this au unachievable, but while i'm still breathing and my heart is still beating, i ain't giving up on this passion of mine.

This au had been my drive in life when i felt lost. and now with something to hold onto, when i feel lost, i can just retrace my steps back here ^^

I've met so many wonderful people in this community throughout my time around. their words kept encouraging me to continue. This post isn't just to announce that Blank x Player is gonna have something new, this is also a very big appreciation post.

I've vented my struggles and hardships to the people i know in this community. (IYKYK) and they've seen me grow from what i've told them. I've been inactive but that doesn't mean i'm out just yet.

I just wanted to say, thank you for being what kept me moving forward. if it weren't for this and everything that came along with, i wouldn't have made it far enough without getting lost.

Thank you, Dearest CS Community.

[pouralaura]

This is like THE question of the ages but here goes. Is your Raphael capable of love? It is my understanding that devils are capable of an obsessive, manipulative, perverted version of it; but the Raphael in your fics has a particular human fallibility that is endearing, and a willingness to entertain those follies (for the sake of his favorite mouse) that I’m wondering if it’s possible that he would (accidentally) fall in love in a mortal sense, going against his fiendish nature (it would have to be a very special mouse). I’d love to hear your take on his fiend/human dichotomy. 🫶

what a fabulous question. thank you for asking! I've thought a lot about this and I always come to the same conclusion: yes, my Raphael is in fact capable of love. there is a "however" which I will get to shortly.

let me first say that I really simply do not care about canon. bro lives in my head rent-free as his own entity and does not necessarily fit DnD/BG lore in that space. that's just a disclaimer, take it as you will.

Raphael's love with my Tav (both generic and my Eris specifically) is definitely just magnetic obsession at first until they realize how hard they match each other's freak. he power plays and power plays and power plays, letting his mouse in ON HIS TERMS ALONE until it's too late and she's as much a part of him as he is of her. fwiw, Tav/Eris's love is the same as his - but his makes him more human and hers makes her less, all for better or for worse. and I think his capacity for love has so much to do with the other person in the equation, which is extremely human of him - Tav pushes him back and needles him but also worships him in her own way, taking on some of his traits the more time she spends with him. some of that is unconscious and some is fully intentional. it's all a part of the Game, which, for her, is Understanding (literally figuring out what makes him tick), while for him it's Winning (taking what he knows of her and using/manipulating it however he wants). Raphael is a narcissist and naturally loves himself most of all, but once he sees himself reflected in another person I think that unlocks a new layer of longing and deep connection within him.

I've used the lyric I won't speak of love since the beginning of writing about the two of them and it's always gonna fit. Tav/Eris knows what the feeling is on both sides, because she is 100% human and overly perceptive, intuitive, and insightful. but she is smart enough not to push that understanding onto Raphael because attempting to force him to admit what he perceives as a weakness would destroy their dynamic.

which brings me to my main point: again, yes, he is capable of love. he is even capable of unconditional love.

BUT

he will not accept that about himself, even for a moment. his love is obsessive and manipulative and perverted OF COURSE but it's also his purest emotion, which is an embarrassment. he will ignore the truth of what it is fully out of pride. if Eris pushed him to acknowledge it he would drop her in an instant and shed all remaining traces of his humanity. it's simultaneously the strongest connection he has with anyone and the thinnest tightrope of a line they could possibly walk - but they complement each other so well that they've somehow found that perfect unacknowledged balance. Eris is prideful too but understands that to maintain the status quo she MUST swallow some of her pride and allow Raphael to keep up appearances for his own sake - which is one of her major ways of showing love from her side.

he loves her purely and earnestly and deeply but he will ALWAYS love himself and his image more. some might say that means he is not capable of real love but I think the two can coexist! people are complicated!

this is fun to think about and I really hope it makes any kind of coherent sense all written out.

[morablackbird]

I’ve had time to think, and I want to make something clear to all.

Now more than ever we should go out and vote, not just for who’s gonna run this bitch but for seats and for government. Look into your local polling places to see what the next election is on and vote

Because it was never democrats vs republicans, it had always been democracy vs autocracy, freedom vs fascism. I’m not mad about republicans voting in their best interests, or hell if their had been just about any other sensible republican candidate, nor am I upset about those who question our democracy and its ability to give us the representation we want.

My hope is that democracy lives on past these four years, even if we the people lose our rights and our freedoms, we must never give up and never give in to hate and lies. Because if democracy survives we can always bring it back.

Do not lie down and die, do not let them win. It is time we come together as American citizens both Democrat and true republicans cause I know you are still out there, to fight like hell. Do not hurt yourselves that is what they want, if you are so beyond the point of no return then keep living, do not die because they won, die because you fought back, die gloriously! Die with purpose! Fight what battles you can at home and do what you must beyond the home, protect each other, especially our children who shall suffer the most.

And speaking of which, if you are a woman, cis or otherwise, non-binary born female, or a trans male that has yet to fully transition. It’s time to use their tactics against them. They want a nation of Christian ideals? This whole ‘your body my choice?�� Then it’s time to be maliciously compliant. Let us all take up a oath to never lie with another cis male. Let us become saints of virtue and celibacy. Let us be pure and free of the ‘sin’ that is sex then.

No more sex, no more babies, no more shall we give them factory workers and no more shall we give our bodies to them. We are choosing to be pure in the eyes of ‘their’ god then.

I don’t know about you but irl cis men are really unattractive to me right now, and if I really want kids I can adopt.

And for those of you who are LGBTQ and so on. Fear not for I believe in the promise of a better tomorrow. I believe in it, and we have fought for many years to get this far. If you are a adult you understand these hardships and hiding has never been easy but we managed. The kids however need us more than ever, they need to know we are there for them and we should protect them even at the cost of our own personal freedoms.

To all my friends with immigrant parents, who were born here and raised up under the ideal of freedom of choice. We have failed you and we shall never forgive ourselves for it. This nation was built by immigrants for immigrants, and it should continue to be so. Yet we choose to blame you for our problems.

My grandpa used to tell a joke, that was less of a joke and more of a upsetting truth.

There is a room in which three men live

In this room is a feast fit for several

One man is a businessman

One is you

One is a immigrant

The businessman looks at the feast and scoots the majority of it to his side of the table and begins to eat while the other two starve

But being ‘generous’ he tosses you a leg of the smallest fowl and says

‘Better grab it quick, lest the enemy take it from you’

As he point to the immigrant with none.

So you hold on to your scraps in fear of having none when in reality it’s not the enemy coming from elsewhere, but the liars who tell you it is so.

Immigrants were never your enemy and they never should’ve been, because unless you are 100% purely Native American I don’t want to hear it, cause not even I am.

I come from a long line of preachers and speakers, I come from a ancestry of natives and pilgrims, I come from two sides of the same coin when it comes to the civil war, I come from many Puritans, Catholics, Christians, and so on, and no matter what their stance was in our government there was one thing they all clearly desired.

Freedom

Liberty

The pursuits of happiness

Democracy

Do not let them win, do not give up, do not lie down and die because they say you should.

Fight to live another day, keep going even when shit sucks, don’t give them what they desire,

never give up!

Do you hear me?

NEVER GIVE UP!!

Sincerely

Dove

[qiinamii]

You still alive?

i am! mainly because i'm not the best at managing my time while still in my study years- so prioritizing what comes first is the only thing in mind. here is guy

[franeridart]

The Housecat Philosophy - Ep 39

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