#this was a pain in the ass and in the end I'm not all that happy with it even >:/
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pedgito · 2 days ago
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader
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summary | Joel hates change, but you introduced the idea that letting someone else take charge isn't always bad.
author's note | horrible summary but just know that man is dow horrifically bad. i don't think i need to explain what inspired this. i recommend a mix of father figure by george michael and i'm on fire by bruce springsteen on a constant repeat while reading this, for the vibes <3 thank you @chaotic-mystery for beta'ing and constantly making me laugh
content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!joel, no outbreak, power dynamics (he's your boss), age gap (shocker), lots of open communication, vague plot, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, restraints, joel eating the puss with no hands, use of a cockring, joel's a real good boy, open-ended
word count — 7k
“You ever thought about lettin’ someone else take control?”
Tommy’s staring over the dirtied tupperware in his hands, the heel of his boot squeaking against Joel’s cluttered desk, who’s staring down at the mess of paperwork before his eyes flick up briefly at his brother, glaring.
“And run this place into the ground?”
“Joel, look at this place,” Tommy gestures lazily toward the space.
It is a mess—paperwork misorted, information scribbled on a calendar long forgotten underneath the pile, sticky notes scattered throughout, and Joel’s brain running a million thoughts per second on top of the physical work he’s providing throughout the company.
He’d taken on the position thinking it would be a good thing, a breather, after years of working only physical labor—extra money, more security for his daughters as they entered college, always feeling the support of him even miles away. But, it had slowly begun to overtake his life, his weekends that used to be spent watching football games and drinking in his backyard, were forced into four walls.
He can’t even remember that last time he’s had the chance to have a night out.
Gone on a date.
Hell, even sex was nonexistent.
“Hiring someone means training and you and I both know we don’t have the time—”
“That’s why you hire someone with experience—and vet ‘em. You know what, I’ll ask Maria if she can help out with finding someone. Lord knows you’ll never make a decision.”
“I am your boss, remember?” Joel threatens lightly, tossing a dry, unusable pen on his desk, mirroring his brother as he raises a foot on his desk and leans back, arms crossed over his chest, “Maybe work would be less of a pain in the ass if I jus’ fired ‘ya.”
“Yeah, but then who’s gonna deal with all your cryin’?”
Joel tosses a balled up napkin at Tommy’s head, one that he dodges with ease as it flies over his head, barely missing the trashcan on the other side of the room as it slumps to the floor.
“Just try it out—ain’t nothing bad about change, brother.”
For Joel, it meant relinquishing the control he wasn’t ready to offer up.
You fidget nervously in the chair in the front office, heart hammering in your chest.
First impressions were always nerve-wracking, but with Joel, and the preface you were given by both Maria and Tommy, who had led you through the hiring process, made it seem like he was nearly unbearable at times.
The door to his office creaks open right on time, not a second after.
He’s dressed up, slacks and a tight button-up paired with loosely slicked back hair, peppered with grays that dissolved into his trimmed facial hair, a permanent scowl on his face as he greets you, head down and following you as you slipped by his large, stocky frame.
As the door clicks closed, he begins with audible uncertainty, “I’m not sure what all my brother and his wife told you, but—”
You interrupt firmly, attempting to assert your unique approach at dominance when men like him, slinging your bag into one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.
“So—I manage the day to day. I can handle calls, within reason, unless you like doing that yourself,” Truthfully, it wasn’t his favorite thing although it was the most important—selling the company, getting the customers, Joel could be a smooth talker when he wanted, “for paperwork, I’m scarily organized and I’ll take care of all,” You look around at the tornado of receipts and contracts scattered around, “this.”
“What about lunch?” Joel inquires jokingly.
“And breakfast,” You answer nonchalantly, “Listen, I’m here to help you.”
“I’m used to handling all of this alone, so forgive me if I’m—”
“Territorial,” You finish for him, eyebrows raising inquisitively as Joel cracks a faint smirk.
You cross one foot over the other and clasp your hands together, connecting with his gaze as he stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, and he opens his mouth like he wants to argue or protest against the word, but you smile knowingly.
“I’m used to it,” You assure him, “Mr. Miller—Joel, I’m not…sure what you prefer. The goal is balance, your brother mentioned something about you sleeping here sometimes.”
“Just Joel is fine,”Joel tells you, glancing sheepishly at the messy couch, a blanket and pillow balled up on one cushion.
“That’s not happening anymore,” You assure him, “and don’t think you’re overwhelming me. I need a list of everything you want me to cover—I’m your assistant, so if helping means grabbing you breakfast every morning, I’ll do it.”
It takes an hour of conversation and convincing before you finally manage to lead Joel toward his desk, inadvertently organizing some of the paperwork as he wrote down a list that grew and grew as you talked, giggling to yourself as he would occasionally scribble out a word and then rewrite it down.
You’ve dealt with plenty of men like him, an unwillingness to hand the leash over, gripped tightly around his hand—Joel just needed a shove and some reassurance.
And within a few weeks, after you’ve managed to introduce an entirely new filing system to keep things organized, color-coded his calendar, and started taking calls while he would make his rounds to check on the employees posted at different locations around the city, he realizes that he can breathe a little easier.
It’s also a mighty big plus that he doesn’t have to spend twenty minutes in the pick-up line for a black coffee and bagel or concern about lunch before deciding to skip it entirely.
You spend most of your time with him, learning subtle nuances and quirks that help you decipher his steely expression and non-existent personality. Tommy, who was outwardly joyful and shamelessly extroverted, was the complete opposite of Joel, who was reserved in all aspects of his life.
“Forgot how greasy these damn things are,” Joel gripes lightheartedly as he pulls the paper away from the double cheeseburger, sipping at his soda as you tap away quietly on his computer, watching him briefly from the opposite side of the desk as you took up residence in his chair for the moment, “what’re you doin’ again exactly?”
You silently pass him a napkin which he grabs wordlessly.
“I’m scheduling a week off for you and clearing your schedule so you won’t have to worry about anything,” You tell him, the line returning between his brow as he chews.
“I didn’t approve that,” He says around a mouthful, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the crumpled napkin, “besides I ain’t got the time—”
“The last time you took off was,” You pause for an extended amount of time, searching back through the calendar before you spot it, “two years ago for…”
“Graduation,” He answers quietly, “for Sarah and Ellie.”
His daughters, who he always spoke of fondly, pictures scattered around his office.
You were a few years older, wondering if the reason he was so reluctant to your help was your age, wondering if you truly had the experience to handle the workload.
“Exactly,” You answer sharply, “And your birthday falls within that week, so you’re not going to argue with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” 
You grin triumphantly, snatching a fry from his to-go tray.
By September, Joel has fully settled into having you around. It’s only been a few months and he’s already able to spend more weekends at home and occasionally get back to more physical labor when his body agrees with it, unfortunately the company was heading toward a rush, a quickly moving train with no end in sight.
It was the third late night in a week after Joel had returned from his much needed vacation and you’re working quietly at writing down a plethora of dollar amounts to work out on the white board beside his desk before he huffs, leaning back in his chair as he curls his fingers behind his head and grimaces at the stress, forehead shining with a sheen of sweat.
Oh, yeah—and the AC was broken.
They were scheduled to fix it at the end of the week, but for now, it was thin dresses and loose fitting clothing and Joel, who was sticking to jeans and a casual, worn-out shirt. Your hair was tossed over one shoulder as your head tilted, arm extended up as the marker squeaked against the board, unknowing of his eyes that dragged along the expanse of your body.
He’s never shown any interest, not really. Almost always respectful, sometimes too much.
He’s asked about your life, your interests, whether you were thinking of marriage or not—it all felt wholly casual. You knew he had never been married, that he’s raised both of his daughters alone aside from the help of his brother Tommy, and that he rarely went on dates.
You tried helping him once, even scheduling his work day around the date to accommodate and allow him the opportunity, but you were ultimately greeted with his sour expression an hour after lunch.
“She kept tellin’ me how much I reminded her of her ex-husband,” Joel had told you, your hand covering your mouth in both shock and amusement, watching as he slumped into the chair and loosened the cuffs on his shirt. You weren’t sure how anyone could pass up on that.
Now, you can sense his discomfort. Like an aura. 
Lately, you’ve felt like an extension of him. He sensed it too, with you seeming to say things he’s thinking, in your own words, always knowing exactly what he needs, whether it was just a moment to himself or a day of you handling other work while he hid away in his office to handle the overload of calls.
You’re not sure why you stop writing, but you do. The pull guides you to him, moving silently, watching as he leaned forward on his desk, head slung down as he rolled his neck and quietly, your hands curl around his shoulders to squeeze, digging deep into the knotted muscles.
He’s quiet for a moment, both savoring the feeling and processing the situation.
First, he speaks your name, like a warning.
“You’re stressed, let me help,” You comfort him, watching as his shoulders relax with the effort of your hands, now completely slouched against his desk as your hand drags around his shoulder blade and back up, thumbs pressing into the base of his neck as he groans quietly, “does it hurt?”
Joel shakes his head, allowing the press to continue before he slowly pushes up, reaching blindly for your hand before you swat it away, “It’s just a massage, Joel. Relax.”
That wasn’t the issue.
He won’t admit it either, his face blushing as he leans his head back, feeling the delicious pinch of skin as you work out the difficult and stress-filled knots, eyes closed as his lips part.
You smirk slightly, watching the mess of his soft brown curls caress your breasts and he situates himself in his chair, slowly curling your fingers over his shoulder as his bottom lip quakes, shivers.
He whimpers.
He hears it, you hear it.
Joel’s eyes peel open in apology but you shush him, the cold touch of your fingers dragging along his neck, in perfect position to take hold and you’re almost positive Joel wouldn’t try to stop you.
“Don’t—don’t say it,” You nod to reassure him, dragging your other hand over his clammy skin, pushing his hair away from his face as you tug at the strands gently.
Joel nods obediently, swallowing as his hand glides over his crotch, rubbing through the denim of his jeans, cock swelling slowly underneath as he presses the heel of his palm against it for a sliver of relief. 
You both ignore how quickly the lines have blurred, glaringly aware of the unlocked door to Joel’s office as the massage transforms into something much more nefarious, your fingers slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt and against his skin, through the coarse hair on his chest, not a single reaction as his right hand curls around the back of his chair to twist around your thigh, pulling your knee up on the armrest.
With the slight adjustment, you notice his hand squeezing tight at his jeans, desperately trying to avoid his obvious want, attempting to stifle the desire and not acknowledge it.
“It’s been a while, huh?” You ask softly, too scared to startle him.
Joel nods, blinking slowly as his eyes fall on your lips and the way they curl slightly over your teeth and into a thin line at his response.
“Since someone touched you like this?” You inquire further, feeling his fingers squeeze at your thigh as your hands work like magic over his skin, trailing down his chest and twisting into his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the interaction.
“At all,” He admits, “s’been so long—m’sorry, sweetheart.”
“Don’t apologize,” You tell him, sensing the regret as it invades his thoughts, quickly quelling the feeling, “I think—I think I can help you.”
Joel sighs, breathing out through his nose, “I’m your boss.”
Obviously, you think.
“On paper, maybe—but you’ve had no problem listening to me,” You tease, the slightest hint of shame on his face at your words—he’s guilty, he knows it—”in fact, I don’t think you realized how much you liked it, until now.”
The voice trailing along the hallway breaks you both out of your trance, slowly pulling your touch away as your leg falls, Joel’s fingers yearning for a final touch as they dig into your skin.
“Easy,” He cautions, looking down at his desk as he pulls at his jeans, adjusting the obvious discomfort of his stiff cock as it waned, “not—not here.”
“Gimme your phone,” You urge, holding your hand out expectantly.
He hands it over with an air of skepticism, your finger tapping against the screen quietly before you pass it back to him, the device dwarfed in his large palm.
“If you’re not busy tonight,” You say quietly, increasingly careful as you hear Tommy’s voice carry throughout the office, “I put my address into your phone, it's in your favorites. Should be easy to find.”
An invitation. 
Like dangling a treat in front of him, waiting to see if he’d take the bait.
-
He’s starving, fortunately.
He sits through dinner with Tommy and Maria, a regular occasion as Joel is often horrible at taking care of himself, surviving on very little sleep and a couple meals a day, often supplied by you.
He should take better care of himself. He knows that.
Regardless, he’s jittery as he pulls up to the apartment complex his phone led him to, parking in the garage attached as he sends you a single text around ten o’clock that night.
Your phone dings on your kitchen counter, finishing up pouring out your glass of wine as you pull it toward you with a single drag of your finger.
Joel: Here. Apartment number?
You chuckle at his straightforward nature that translates loudly through the tiny letters on your screen, quietly tapping out a response before you push your phone aside.
As you’re rounding the counter to head toward your couch, the deep knocks follow, wondering if he’d already been perusing and got lucky he was near.
You turn the knob and pull the door open as you press the glass to your lips, taking in the sight of a man who looks and feels entirely out of place. 
His eyes follow your state of undress, assuming you were ready to climb into bed with the silk shorts that clung to your hips and the scantily cropped top to match, barely covering your breasts.
He’s changed since work, only trading the denim for a much softer material to cover his legs, a fresh shirt, his hair mused like he’s been running his fingers through it with worry and unsurety. 
“How was your night?” You ask casually, moving to allow him the room to step inside your apartment, closing the door behind you as you head toward the fridge, silently grabbing for a beer—his favorite just happened to be your own, so it worked out perfectly.
“Fine,” He grumbles, watching as you hand him a now opened beer and push by him, but not before your fingers drift against his own, pulling him alongside until you reach the couch.
His fingers curl around yours without a second thought.
“You started talkin’ about football and Tommy went on one of his rants again, didn’t he?”
He’s used to it by now, how well you can assess him.
“S’almost like you were there,” He chuckles, tipping the beer to his lips and taking a long chug, “did I bother you? I know it’s late.”
You shake your head, allowing him to finish up a decent amount of his beer and your glass of wine before you’re plucking the glass from his hands and tucking it away on the table.
“Have you done this before?“ Joel asks softly, a deep gravelly timbre to his voice as your ass angles up, leaning off the couch to dispose of the drinks before you’re climbing over his lap, quietly raising your hands to cradling his face.
He doesn’t look at you for too long, not allowing the weight of the situation to settle quite yet, selfishly roving the expanse of exposed skin, feeling your hands grip his own to guide them to your hips.
“Does it matter?” You ask, dragging your thumb along his beard, rubbing at the bare patch of skin on his cheek, “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”
“No.”
A small sliver of tongue peeks through your teeth as you bite down, grinning openly at him and his sheepish gaze.
“You’re my first—is that what you wanna hear?”
You can feel the bluntness of his nails dig into your skin at your words—oh, he that is exactly what he wanted.
“I’m just—M’not sure what I’m supposed to do here, sweetheart.”Joel responds instead, licking his lips before they pull together in a tight line.
“Would whiskey help? I got whiskey,” You respond cheekily, “I’ll get you some. Stay put.”
Joel chuckles nervously, “Yes, ma’am.”
You climb off his lap and disappear into your kitchen, reaching into the cabinet for a glass before crouching down to retrieve the liquor hidden away, hearing the soft and subtle rustling as Joel adjusts more comfortably on the couch, his shoes now removed and tossed haphazardly toward the coffee table. 
“If you—if you haven’t done this before,” Joel pauses as you return, making immediately room for you on his lap as you press the glass into his waiting hand, “why’d you offer?”
“Men pay me to boss them around, plenty of men like you,” It was a loose description, but it was the one strong suit you’ve prided yourself in, corralling stubborn men, “I like it and I’m good at it.”
“Clearly.” Joel comments under his breath, a small scoff of astonishment slipping past your lips as you force the glass to his own lips in a silent command.
“I don’t make it a habit to have sex with them, f’that is what you’re really worried about. They’re all married, miserable, but married. And I don’t like the mess of getting involved. Any time I’ve moved on it’s been because of that.”
Joel continues to drink by your aid, downing the rest of it as you continue to speak.
“You’re not married, you’re not complicated. You’ve been respectful. This isn’t you approaching me—I made that move, I just gave you an offer. One, which, you can still bail on and I won’t be upset. I won’t quit, either.”
As the liquor takes hold, Joel seems to relax, the tension in his body dissipating as you slowly trace the lines of his face and body with your fingers, explorative within reason.
“I guess we should set some ground rules,” Joel grunts at the mention, slightly more handsy as his fingers meet at your back, dipping a centimeter below the waistband, “If we do this—I’m in charge, completely. That’s the only way this works, or helps you. And it should be a given, but I’m clean and on birth control. But, it that reassures you—I’d rather you hear it.”
“Jesus Christ,” Joel groans, feeling the immediate loss of his touch as he rubs his hands over his face before stretching them out over the back of the couch.
“I’m just…covering the bases, I’d rather not have the question come across when you’re an inch away from putting your dick inside me, you know?”
“Coverin’ your bases?” Joel echoes, slightly amused.
You grin, climbing off of him slowly as you reach for your phone, fumbling through your playlist before you find a slow, sensual tune to fill the quiet air.
Hey, little girl, is your daddy home?
Did he go away and leave you all alone?
I got a bad desire
Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire
“Do you dance?” You ask curiously, wandering toward your kitchen for the open wine bottle, half-empty and begging to be consumed.
“Not much—not…not anymore,” Joel doesn’t know he words it so cryptically; he danced, just not well. 
“Tommy told me how, at least, before the girls, how often you two would go line dancing,” Joel’s fingers curl around your hand as it extends, bring the wine bottle to your lips with the other, “now that I have to witness.”
“You and Tommy sure do talk a lot,” Joel notes, looking down at you as your fingers drag along the hair at his nape, “anything else he told you?”
You shake your head nonchalantly, bottom lip jutting out slightly as you sway your hips in time with the lyrics, Joel’s hand covering the full expanse of your own as it wraps around, constantly mesmerized by the sheer size.
The goal was to shake his nerves out, but he seemed to stiffen with your progressive movement as you twirled yourself around, one long gulp of wine before you set the bottle aside and relent, dragging your finger up the fabric of his shirt before you squeeze at the collar, pulling him closer.
“Either you dance with me,” You begin, “or I’m dancing for you—your choice.”
His non-answer is enough, forcing him back onto the couch before you’re shoving the table out of the way and turning up the volume to the rhythmic tune.
You’d convince him eventually, dying to see those skills come back to life, even if it was just a glimpse.
“Put your hands under your legs,” You instruct him casually, eyes tracking up as you watch his chest puff out with the motion, fitting his hands under his thighs without argument.
Huh, that was easy. 
Time was a teller, though, and you were curious how long it would last. 
He’s seen glimpses of it before, the soft hum under your breath as you sing the catchy tunes playing on the radio in his office, a subtle sway as you flip through a stack of paperwork or at his desk, the tiniest movement.
But here, now, he’s mesmerized.
He gets it, this is what you wanted.
Joel’s fists have balled up under his thighs, watching you turn away as you dance, the swaying movements pulling at the already short fabric as his eyes follow the way you bend, giving him a full glimpse of your ass.
You giggle softly at his lack of reaction, which wasn’t entirely true, watching his knees widen at the action, subconsciously making room for you despite your distance. 
Yearning. He was yearning for you.
You drop to your knees, crawling toward him slow under the low, ambient light of your living room—a faint glow of pinks and purples, transforming into greens and blues, filtering slowly through colors as your hands grip his knees, sliding up the inside of his thighs tantalizingly slow. 
“So…” Your finger trails around the drawstring of his pants, “at any point that this gets too much or you’re not feeling it, just say stop.”
“That ain’t somethin’ you gotta worry ‘bout.”
“Communication is a good thing, Joel,” You explain, “it’s important—to make sure we’re both benefiting from this. I’m not enjoying this unless you are, alright?”
Joel nods, a raised eyebrow offered in return.
“Yes,” His voice cracks slightly, clearing his throat, “uh—yes, ma’am.” 
“A simple yes would have worked, but I appreciate the manners,” You tease him, knowing he’s always been stuck in his ways, old fashioned and polite. It comes naturally.
Your fingers fold around his waistband and tug, his hips rising at the motion and you hear the breath he’s holding release as his cock springs free, leaking at the tip and begging to be attended to. You grinned, tongue peaking out to lick along the head and around, salty precum hitting your taste buds as you look up at Joel, his eyes falling shut as his hand wraps around your forearm in desperation.
You pull back instantly, gently moving his hand away.
He seems to realize his misstep, silently tuck his hand away under his thigh again as you nod, pulling his pants the rest of the way down and off before you’re licking him from base to tip, fingertips wrapping around his shaft and squeezing alongside the delicate suction of your mouth.
He groans, so deep and guttural you think he might come now, peeking your eyes open to see his head resting back, eyes closed. The sight was too much, having to force some reprieve on himself as you worked your mouth down his cock, head bobbing at a slow, tortuous pace until your throat can relax and take him fully, nearing around eight inches and thick, feeling the stretch of your cheeks alongside the ache in your jaw.
You pull away with watery eyes, a long string of spit connecting you to him, speaking, “If you feel like you’re about to come, say it, don’t lie to me.”
With that, your thumb rubs over the slit of his head, feeling his cock pulse in your hand, squeezing at the tip while his face contorts, lips parting as he breathes out shakily. 
“Oh, fuck—yes—yes fuckin, ma’am.”
He’d rip the stitching in your couch if he gripped it harder, losing his hold on reality as he watches your head move through bleary eyes, the buzz of alcohol tingling his brain as you gag against his cock, held in the back of your throat before he’s stammering out desperately, the familiar tug in his gut that proves just how long it’s been for him, ready to come after only a few minutes of your mouth on him.
He’s embarrassed, the words falling from his lips in a rush, “Stopstop—fuck, stop.”
You pull away quickly, the urgency in his voice startling you as your face contorts in concern.
“Fuck—not like, stop. Jus’ I was about to come. Sorry—sweetheart, I panicked.”
It calms your worry, nodding in response to his words.
“I’ve…actually I have an idea, if you’re okay with it that is.”
He’s suspicious of the glint in your eyes, rising on sore knees as he sat there naked from the waist down, your eyes dragging over his firm, muscled legs before they took in the sight of his cock again, standing proud as it rest against his stomach, the shirt slightly bunched at his chest.
You make the short trek to your room to retrieve the item you were looking for, coming back to Joel massaging his sore wrists, a subtle worry in his eyes that he’s done something wrong.
He eyes the bag in your hand suspiciously, brow raised. 
There were a few items, but the one most notable he reaches for initially, dangling it between two fingers as he asks, “You have that just layin’ around?”
It was a cockring, flexible material that he stretched his fingers before you politely snatched it away.
“What? I picked out a few things. Besides, I couldn’t get you anything for your birthday so consider this a late gift,” He sees right through the sickeningly sweet smile, pushing the bag into his hands as you straddle one thigh, the silk material of your shorts dragging along his bare skin.
“I dunno,” Joel’s hesitant, but not entirely close-off to the idea, “s’that even safe?”
“It is,” You assure him—Joel doesn’t really question it either, “You trust me, don’t you?”
He tries to stifle the small chuckle at your act, batting your lashes as you reach for his hand, settling it against the center of your chest underneath your shirt, the soft press of your breasts squeezing his hand and Joel has to resist the urge to explore further, rifling through the bag one-handed, pulling out a thick piece of cloth, a rich, plum stained fabric. 
“You’re in good hands,” You smile, leaning forward to brush your lips along the shell of his ear, “I promise.”
He does touch you now, though careful of his hands wandering too far, spreading you out on your bed sheet with hesitance, sensing that this wasn’t just a moment of uncertainty, but rather unfamiliarity.
“It’s been so long,” He admits, not lost on you, “I’ll try—jus’ might need some remindin’.”
Be vocal, he pleads without asking. Let me hear you.
Done and done.
His hands grip at the back of your thighs, pulling you near the edge of the bed before they’re pushing up, forcing your legs apart as he settles on his knees, stripped of his top and nude, a stark contrast to your clothed state as he pressed his face into the fabric of your shorts, his nose prodding at the seam of your pussy, teeth biting lightly into the fabric.
His eyes trail up, the bottom half of his face obscured as he pressed his mouth into the heat of your cunt through the silk, awaiting your command.
“Grab,” You sigh, his kisses trailing along your thigh and down, lips kisses at the sensitive skin of your ankle, “the bag—the bag,” You point vaguely, forcing him away gently with your opposite foot. 
You’d dropped it on the floor beside Joel in the mess of limbs, the bag hidden underneath his disposed shirt and as he thrusts the small paper bag into your hands you fish for the binding balled up at the bottom of the bag, tossing the rest of the bag aside as you sink to match Joel’s position, gently grabbing his wrists as you guide them behind his back.
“Just to make sure you keep your hands to yourself,” You inform him, face heating under his heavy gaze, looking up at him innocently as you knot the fabric blindly behind his back, tugging when you’re satisfied enough and rising to meet his face, nose brushing against his own at the close proximity, “Do you want a taste, Joel?”
“I’ll take whatever you give me, sweetheart.”
In this light, under the soft glow of streetlights that spilled over into your room, it was like you were seeing a different man, not at all the confident and defiant man you challenge on a day to day, but a man dedicated to you, an eagerness in his expression that you’ve never seen.
“Oh, honey—you’re gonna work for it.”
You crawl back on your hands, rising to perch on the edge of the bed with your legs spread, one foot perched against the mattress as Joel shuffled forward slowly, “Can’t taste you through those shorts, might help if you—”
“Get creative,” You urge, haphazardly pulling your top over your head and throwing it aside for incentive, breasts bouncing softly with the movement and spotting the way Joel swallows, hard.
It made him feel young, this desire that didn’t show itself often. He’s resigned himself to months, years of handling himself; jerking himself off with his hand to satisfy that urge, but never more. He rarely had time then, lucky if he could manage a full eight hours of sleep. 
He leans forward, his teeth digging into the fabric at your hip as he pulls, wrestling with the material as he drags it down your thigh—innovative, you think. You giggle softly at his steadfast gaze, a stubbornness in his scowl as he rips the fabric off. 
Joel doesn’t waste time, licking a long stripe through your already damp underwear, accumulated slick ruining the fabric as he greedily laps you up through the garment, but he hisses when your hand grips into his hair, pulling him back as his scowl grows deeper.
“All of it.” You demand.
You watch as his teeth gripped at the front of your underwear before he’s dragging them down, tossing them aside even more impatiently, like a dog with a chew toy, before he’s pressing his face into your cunt, leaning most of his weight into you as his strong, angular nose presses against your clit, his tongue dipping inside of you instantly, like he was trying to consume you.
A mix of a broken laugh and gasp leaves your mouth as he groans, a slight shake to his head as he attempted to force himself deeper, the movement shifting his nose of your clit in a way that has your entire body curling in on itself, his eyes closed, lost in the taste of you and the warm cradle of your thighs around his head, foot smoothing over his back as you pull him in.
He suckles at your clit as he shifts up, the wet expanse of his tongue sliding over the sensitive bud, responding with a soft noise as your fingers dig into his hair and tug, ““Fuck, you love it like this, don’t you?”
Joel responds with a noise, ignoring your question as his tongue swirls over your clit, repeating the motion repeatedly as your breath hitches, gasping loudly.
“I asked—asked you a question,” You interrupt, pulling him back defiantly, “I’d like an answer.”
“M’sorry, I do—I do,” Joel apologizes, mouth shining with your slick, his beard wet and his cheeks flushed, “jus’ taste so good, sweetheart. Wanna make you feel good—am I doin’ alright?”
“So good,” You tell him softly, your hand cradling his chin as you slide your thumb over his wet lip and through the dampness at his chin before you’re pushing your fingertip into his mouth, letting the pad of your thumb press against his tongue, closing his lips around you finger to suck, “You’re always so messy, you know that?”
Joel chuckles, pulling his mouth away as you slowly guide him back toward your cunt, pulsing around his tongue as it dips inside of you once more, like a tease before he returns the attention toward your clit, groaning as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head, feeling the creeping sensation of your orgasm as it coiled in your gut.
“A damn good meal if ‘ya ask me,” Joel comments, too entranced to chastise his comment as your orgasm spills over, the rush of fluids hitting his tongue as you cry out, his unrelenting tongue making your vision go white.
“That’s good, baby, keep doing that. Just like that,” You encourage weakly, legs shaking with overstimulation as he glares up at you through his half-lidded gaze, his nose smushed against your cunt.
Your fingers sift gently through his hair as you come down, feeling the weight of his head against your thigh as he speaks, “You’re shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart—y’alright?”
“I am,” He can hear the elation in your voice as you rise slowly, “does it hurt?”
Joel pulls at the binding, loose enough that there's no straining or pinching, he shrugs noncommittally and answers, “If I say yes will you take ‘em off?”
You tilt your head at his subtle mischievous tone, “As long as you’re being truthful.”
“I wanna touch you, if ‘m bein’ honest,” Joel admits.
He’s such a smoothtalker, even now. 
“Fine—but, I’m not finished,” You warn him, “so don’t get any ideas.”
“Oh, yes ma’am.” He agrees wholeheartedly, feigning seriousness. 
It shouldn’t be this easy with him, but it was. 
“I’m tryin’ to help you out,” You tease him, fitting the ring around his cock, settled underneath his balls as he stifles the groan of your touch against his overly sensitive skin, having been so close to the edge and losing focus that he’s fallen soft, resting back on his palms as you rub your hand over his chest and down, fingers rolling along the underside of his sack before your fingertip trails along the seam and up, following the thick vein that led to the head of his cock, “Is it good when I touch you here?”
“S’good,” He answers shakily, watching your hand press flat against your tongue before you’re gripping his cock tight, jerking him firmly, his hand flying to your hip, trailing up blindly as you press your chin against the top of his head, feeling his hand tangle into your hair, cradling your face with a desperation, “I’m fuckin’ sufferin’ here, sweetheart.”
“Not yet,” You counter, leaving his now hardened cock to bounce freely against his stomach as you reach for two items sprawled on the bed, gripped in your fists as you straddle him, his cock sliding through your wet folds and nearly sending him over the edge, “which one?”
Choices, he thinks. He hated making a decision.
Sight or touch, he debates the two items.
“If you don’t pick I’m choosing both,” You warn him playfully.
“Not bein’ able to see you feels like a punishment,” Joel admits.
You hum thoughtfully, “You’re right—and what a good boy you’ve been, huh?”
“Real good, sweetheart,” He agrees desperately, feeling his cock pulse against your cunt, fighting the restraint it was taking him not to sink into you now and plow you into the bed underneath him, but that wasn’t the point of all of this.
So, the decision is made.
Joel settles against the headboard as you restrain his arms behind his back in a similar manner, his eyes following your movements carefully as you leave soft, light kisses along his skin before you straddle his hips, hovering over him for a brief moment before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock and sinking down onto him slowly, adjusting to the stretch as his eyes flutter shut, face pinched up.
‘It’s not too tight, is it?” You ask, moving your hips at a tortuous pace as your fingers curl around the back of his neck, his head shaking at your question, focusing so innately hard he can’t answer, as much as he tries.
“S’probably the only thing keepin’ me together,” Joel forces out, “all I could think about at dinner earlier was you—this, s’fucked up, ain’t it?”
Your eagerness wins over, bouncing on his cock at a quicker pace that has him panting into your skin, a pathetic whine ripping from his chest, “And I spent—spent all evening thinking about how you’d look when you came—and how stubborn you’d be—”
Joel chuckles pathetically, moaning weakly against your chest as you grip the headboard above him, the sharp slap of skin against skin as you ride his cock.
“Turns out you’re pretty receptive,” You continue, “‘s’good—I like it.”
Joel murmurs an acknowledgment as his neck strains back, slamming against the headboard as he forces his eyes open, panting heavily as he watches your body stretch above him, one hand sliding down to spread out against your thigh as you head falls back to mirror his own, moaning loudly as his cock pulses with need, your walls fluttering around him.
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Joel speaks drunkenly, mesmerized, “M’never lettin’ you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, watching him nod as his eyes squeeze shut, that familiar ache in his gut growing as his cock throbs with the need for release.
You lean forward, working your fingers through the knot of the restraints and speak softly against his ear, “Y’gonna listen? Yeah, like a real good boy?”
Joel nods fervently, sighing with the release of his hands as they immediately latch onto you, still and unmoving but like a relief for the both of you as his hands press hot against your skin.
“What should your reward be, huh?” You coo, “Should I let you come?”
“Sweetheart, please—”
You lean back slightly, riding him with fervor as you nod your head, cradling his lulling head between your hands, “Tell me how good you’ve been,” You encourage gently, his skin damp with sweat as you slide a hand down his chest, dangerously close to the point where you’re joined together, “let me hear it.”
“So good, sweetheart. Bein’ such a good boy for ‘ya,” Joel complies, his breath hitching as he feels the tight ring around his cock loosen, thrown to the side, slipping out and back in without skipping a beat, like you’d never left.
“Right there,” He warns, “fuck—baby, I dunno if I can—”
“It’s okay,” You whisper softly, hearing the pain in his voice and the way his arms wrap around you like a vice, “I’m gonna make you clean it up, anyways.”
Joel groans at that, nearly lifting off the bed as his hand steadies behind, pumping his hips into you jerkily as he comes inside of you and coats your walls, gasping sharply at the feeling of his blunt nails digging into your skin, riding him gently through the aftershocks before he falls lifeless against the bed, panting heavily.
You sigh with elation, though exhausted, slowly moving back as you lean on your elbows and gently poke at his thigh, his hand covering his softening cock as he grunts, grumbling some unintelligible. 
“You’re not finished,” Joel chuckles lowly, his hand wrapping around your ankle as he pulls himself up, eyes immediately locking on your swollen cunt, cum spilling out as your walls squeeze, your own fingers spreading through the mess before you’re dragging it toward your mouth, licking your fingers clean before reaching for his hair, mused from sex as you yank him closer and demand, “clean up your mess.”
“Gonna need you to schedule another week off for me,” Joel admits, dipping his tongue inside of you without hesitation, his hands squeezing around your thighs to pull you in, “and you.”
“Why’s that?”
Joel grins as you glance down, speaking confidently against your cunt, “Got a few messes I wanna make, that alright?”
You pause, a moment of hesitation, “I’ll consider it.”
Joel growls into you, nipping gently at your clit as you squeal loudly.
You relent quickly, swatting his head playfully.
After all, he was still your boss.
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sapphira-mydnyte · 11 hours ago
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♥Shy Snake King♥
Warning: Snake, pain infliction, emotional overload.
Sebastian knows Ominis is deserving of being loved & he knows who his crush is. He means no harm, but Ominis is super shy & hates it when Sebastian tries to rush things. Ominis wants to take it slow & really work on not being so shy around the one he wants, but coming from such an abusive household that thrives on dark magic makes it extremely hard for him. He doesn't want the girl he really wants to be put off by his family, nor the fact that he's a parselmouth. Although she's accepting of it, there's always going to be a part of him that's scared. That underlying fear is that you won't like him when he gets cranky or that his family will come after you. He just doesn't want any harm to come to his girl, nor for her to have a reason to hate him. He knows his animagus form is a snake of some sort because he's an heir & Ominis, loving as he is, doesn't want his girl to be scared of him when he turns into whatever snake he truly is. He hopes he's a ball python though, a very cute one & not any bigger than he is at his full height for the length of the snake. Sebastian, being playful & meaning no harm, pushed the poor blond a little too hard. The blue-eyed heir nearly fell into a kiss on the girl he had the biggest crush on & it unnerved him entirely! "SEBASTIAN!! Get your ass back here!! You're gonna pay for that!! YOU KNOW BETTER!!" Embarrassed with a full blush on his face, he gave chase to the mischievous brunette Scotsman. Ominis was NOT having his own best friend ruin that kiss for him & that was too damned close for his comfort! "I'm the heir you idiot!! You know a damned well have a standard!!" He fired a few shots of Depulso at Sebastian, but he dodged the spells with ease & pulled up his shield in a full run for the last one. "Come on then Ominis! I know you're better than that! You want her that bad? Huh? Do you?!" Sebastian was just slightly short than Ominis, but he was the better runner, which irked Ominis to no end. He had the longer stride, but Sebastian had that little extra muscle to him thanks to all the running around he did with his sister. As for the lovely lady that had stolen Ominis' heart? She was stunned that Sebastian was that brash about it, but thought it hilarious as Ominis tore across the field & getting closer by the second as they headed for the doors to the Great Hall. "Oh, Sebastian... what am I going to do with you & Ominis?" She couldn't help but laugh at Ominis' reaction, as he was clearly not ready to make a move that quick & nearly knocked his best friend down with his sharp aim. "Oh Ominis... don't take it too hard on Sallow... he knows where your heart lies & wants you happy, plus, I don't think Anne will like it if you torch his eyebrows again." She walked towards the Great Hall, following the Slytherin boys a mile behind. Sebastian may have rushed it a bit, but she knew how to make it better. With a little smirk on her face, she strutted through the doors of the Great Hall. "Pretty boy Gaunt has no idea what he's in for later... not in the slightest." Her plan? Sneak the gorgeous blond out & give him that much needed kiss in the Undercroft after locking the door behind them. Sebastian wasn't going to ruin his moment like he said & she'd make sure that the proud heir was made into a boyfriend before the sun rose the next morning. ♥
Kabedon
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Sebastian really wants to intervene in his best friend's romance🤣
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httpuckdrop · 3 days ago
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boyfriend? – ws2
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will gets possessive (jealous) when seeing you with other guys.
pairing: will smith x friend!reader
genre: fluff, college!au
word count: 760
warnings: mentions of alcohol
author's note: been in SUCH a will mood recently, it's not even funny. he's just so !!!! it's not my fault actually :( anyways have this little blurb, hope u enjoy <3
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will hates this.
he doesn't hate parties per se, just this specific one. he does think the party is good; the music is great, a lot of his friends are here, not too calm yet not too crazy. but he hates it mainly because no matter what he does, what room of the apartment he moves into or what classmate he chats to, he always ends up catching you in the corner of his eye.
looking at you is definitely not something will dislikes – on the contrary, he could spend the rest of his life staring at you without feeling bored for even a second. that's how beautiful you are to him.
but seeing you get flirted with and seeing people exploit the fact that you've had more than your share of the drinks table? he hates that.
he tries to handle it by moving along, finding new groups to join and new subjects to talk about to get his mind off you. cool, the school's football team won yesterday; oh yeah, that physics professor seems insane; did you watch that new movie?
it works for a while, but he eventually finds his eyes wandering off to you in every room. you're just that radiant, attracting his attention without even trying. that fact is something he's okay with, and he supposed he'll just have to get used to seeing you with other guys every once in a while, even if it's terribly painful.
but when that stupid football jock you've been talking to for the last fifteen minutes places his hand on your ass as he leans in to whisper in your ear – has he no shame? will asks himself – will has had enough.
in just a few quick strides, he has made it over to you, and his left arm drapes across your shoulders instantly. "there you are, baby," he says, leaning down to press a fleeting kiss to your temple. "been looking all over for you."
the guy takes a step back instinctively, his eyes narrowing at the sight. it takes a moment for you to realize what's happening, but when your head turns toward will, your entire face lights up. "william!" you exclaim, arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him in for a hug. he flinches at the full name – you're even drunker than he thought – but he relaxes once you're in his arms instead of that guy's.
"who are you?"
will looks back to the man you were talking to earlier. "oh, shit- i'm sorry, rude of me not to introduce myself." he holds out his right hand, his other one falling down your waist. "i'm will. nice to meet you, man."
the other guy reluctantly shakes will's hand, frowning slightly. "you two a thing or something?"
will leans the side of his head against the top of yours. "girlfriend and boyfriend for almost two years now."
your eyes widen at this, jaw dropping with a gasp. "boyfriend?" you ask. "you're my boyfriend?"
he chuckles, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels, but nods. "i think you-" he accentuates the word with a tap to your nose. "-have had a little too much to drink if you don't remember me."
the other guy leaves the scene looking a little nauseous, and will can finally relax a little. you, however, seem to not notice anything going on around you, still focused on his touch on your nose several moments later. "too much? no, i'm not even tipsy..."
"sure you aren't." will's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it as he starts walking out of the room. "come on, let's go back to the dorm."
"what dorm?" you ask, yet you reluctantly walk after him.
"your dorm."
once you reach the front door, he rummages through the millions of coats hanging on the wall before finding yours. he hangs it over your shoulders, trying his best to ignore the pout on your lips. "i wasn't done in there." you tilt your head to the side. "why are you forcing me out?"
"i'm taking care of you," he corrects.
"same thing." he lets go of your hand and your eyes follow his movements when he puts on his own jacket, already missing his warmth on your skin. "why?"
he shrugs. "boyfriend duties, i guess."
you step out into the cold together, and the fresh air helps you begin to come to your senses. yet, you find yourself mumbling, "if you're actually my boyfriend, you should kiss me. on the lips."
oh, how badly he wishes he could.
"another time, baby."
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writingwisterias · 2 days ago
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Hey hey!!
You can ignore this if you aren't comfortable but I was wondering if you have any ideas for how different eras Leon would react or handle drunk gf? Smth like been out with the girlies or asking him for a ride home? Go crazy!
Low key started thinking about it after a minor drunken injury weeks ago (all good!)
Hi Anon!
I'm sorry this late, I hope you are okay lmao! We have all been there at some point 👀...I've never fallen down some stairs or whatever
Hope you enjoy!!
Warnings: Fluff, Drunk!Reader,
Fem!Reader
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RE2:
You went to a house party, Leon didn't feel like going though so he stayed behind
He trusted you not to do anything stupid and find your own way back.
That was until he got a call from you that you had been left by your friends and needed him to come and pick you up
He left immediately, pulling up to the location in his jeep with a smile at your state
Had to catch you as he helped you into the car as you tripped on the pavement
The entire ride you are chatting to him about all the gossip. He doesn't care who kissed who that night. Your smile and adorable giggles made his night
Caved when you asked for fast food - with the idea it will sober you up a little bit at least.
RE4R:
I feel like he would like a quieter life but when he meets you and you drag him around everywhere.
He doesn't complain he just goes with the flow, he'll have a few drinks etc to make the time more bearable but never as much as you.
It's cute though, how you'll go out onto the dance floor with a bunch of your friends all stumbling about together
Then you will stumble back over to him, placing a kiss that tasted like whatever you were drinking. A hug that was more you leaning on him than an actual hug
He never prompted you to come back, he was content observing you from the bar, his ass going numb from the bar stool.
When it is time to go home, he's dragging you to a cab. Your leaning on him chattering about whatever was on your mind
Thoughts going by so fast he can barely keep up with you. Changing topics like every 5 seconds
Infinite Darkness:
Encourages you to drink more, he's the type that's willing to be the sober one if he needs to be or at least only limiting himself to a few drinks to make sure you get back safely
He has to drag you out the bar towards the end of the night, your goodbye with the girls is dragging on far too long
The walk back is painful, your stumbling everywhere and so slow to the point he just beds his back and braces his knees
You're hard to carry on his back only because you find it so funny but eventually you pass out
When you do you are like dead weight but don't worry he can take it, he's fought things that are heavier than you
Damnation:
He's drunk with you lets be honest, you are both as bad as each other
Prefers to stay at home and drink so you will too
If you host a girls night he'll happily leave the room and sit in your bedroom so you have the space
The girls don't mind him being there they understand you barely see each other so they are fine with him joining in
When he does, he'll suggest things like board games or card games
For Christmas he'll get you loads of drinking games to play either together or with your friends
Finds it funny when you get the couple drinking games
RE6:
You woke him up from sleeping on the sofa when you called him to pick you up
He's fighting you for an answer as to where you are.
Eventually he just drives to the usual bars not hanging up of course
Finds you just aimlessly wandering down the streets. Pulls over and has to gently guide you into the car
Your moaning about how you have your boyfriend on the phone and he's coming to get you until you realize it's him
He'll give you his jacket in the car so you stay warm, after all the outfit your wearing wouldn't have kept you warm
Loves the gossip you collect and will let you ramble about. There's just something distracting about who kissed who compared to his usual thoughts or conversations with his friends
Vendetta:
The guy would be drunk with you, out and about with your friends whatever. He's with you
And considering he's drank a lot in the film before he starts doing anything I would say he's the type of drunk that you can't actually tell he is until you see the drink
So he's more helpful than you in going home
He's dragging you down the street, pulling you into his side so you stay close
If you fall over he's just sighing and laughing at you
It's almost like two toddlers walking down a street together, they don't know where they are going or how to get there but they do eventually
If you ask for his jacket he'll give it to you but he won't just do it on his own will. He's not really thinking straight
Death Island:
He's smart enough to turn on your phone location before you go out so when you do call him, he's there like instantly
He will sit you down on the bathroom counter and force you to tell him what your skin care routine is as he knows you'll be upset you didn't do it
Will eventually get you to write a step by step process and pin it to his bathroom mirror so he knows in advance
Probably just throws on one of his t shirts instead of finding your own clothes
Listens to your drunken talks until eventually you fall asleep cuddles into him
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spiderb00 · 12 hours ago
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missing the famout fic hours 😞 this is a silly little brainrot but has yoonchip ever accidentally caught yn and sophia making out or walking in on them? i feel like sophia would be REALLY careful not to make sure it happens but sometimes there’s a slip up yk 🤷 if so, how does it go down ?? this could be a headcanon or short answer i don’t really mind , btw i loved the eunchae n haerin fics !
- 🌟 anon
Hi anon! First of all, thank you for the feedback on Eunchae and Haerin's fics!
Secondly, I got your inbox about Fam out before and I loved it, I will definitely use it , I also miss my girls, but I'm so busy now, I think I'll have to wait a while to write about them.
But come on…
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As you said, Sophia is VERY careful about what Yoonchae witnesses, especially after the youngest girl got a room in the couple's house.
Sophia always makes sure that the doors are locked and that the windows are closed if Yn and she are doing something improper.
In fact, Sophia and Yn don't even do anything when Yoonchae is around, she simply cuts off any intimate interaction with Yn when the younger girl is around.
Sophia always scolds Yn for doing something inappropriate in front of Yoonchae, whether it's hitting her ass when she passes by or even longer kisses, she cherishes Yoonchip's innocence very much.
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It was only once, a very quick slip that happened. Yoonchae enjoying the pool while Yn and Sophia were in the kitchen, the Filipina cooking when Yn arrived and hugged her from behind, distributing kisses around Sophia's neck and putting her hands under the sweatshirt that the Filipina had stolen from Yn.
"Yn, Yoonchae is out there…" Sophia alerts Yn, sighing as the hands of the tallest one go up her waist.
"She's distracted outside-"
The noise of the sliding door alerted Yn and Sophia, causing the two to separate at the speed of light. In the process, Sophia ended up elbowing Yn in the stomach and the Italian girl slammed her back on the countertop behind her.
"Hey! I can…" Yoonchae stopped speaking, seeing Yn slightly bent over and a slightly panting Sophia. "Is everything okay?"
"YES!" Sophia replied, putting a smile on her face. "Yn just tripped over the countertop." Sophia said, making the taller raise her thumb to the younger girl.
"Ah, okay. Was I going to ask if I can have a ice cream?" Yoonchae asked.
"Of course, honey. I'll get it for you." Yn said, walking to the freezer and picking up the ice cream she had bought especially for the younger girl.
After the younger girl returned to the garden, Sophia looked at her girlfriend.
"Are you really okay?" Sophia asked, getting close to Yn.
"yes, I just got scared." Yn said, immediately feeling another pain in her abdomen, again caused by Sophia, only this time with a pinch.
"Ow!"
"Don't do it when Yoonchae is around." The Filipina said, the expression on her face making Yn shake her head quickly. "You're going to do the dishes."
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charmwasjess · 2 days ago
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That One About the Temple Clones AU
Here's an underexplored and juicy plot point in the prequels that I can't stop thinking about! Because Sifo-Dyas was killed so early in the new canon timeline of the creation of the clones, with Dooku impersonating him to handle the subsequent details, we don’t even know exactly what he intended the clone army to be.
I think there’s even an argument to be made that Sifo-Dyas intended the clones to be culturally Jedi. Raised and trained in the Jedi Temple(s), learning Jedi skills and ways of life, growing up in a shared community alongside the Jedi. The clones serving not as an emergency button to hit in case of war, but as a support to the overstretched, under resourced Jedi Order in an increasingly violent, chaotic galaxy, one that might prevent the war he foresaw from ever even happening.
To begin, I’ll briefly touch on the galactic situation immediately before The Phantom Menace. Time and time again, we’re given a picture of the Jedi Order that is being stretched to its limit. All across the galaxy, Jedi temples such as the ones we see operating in the High Republic era in the Acolyte, are being shut down because the Jedi just can’t staff them. The novel The Living Force, set immediately before TPM, deals with the repercussions of these shut downs for the people living in those sectors - destabilization, a vacuum where the power hungry and corrupt can come into the space left and make life awful for the people. Problems arise, these systems go to the Republic for help, the Republic can't help due to bureaucratic red tape and lack of Jedi resources, and this creates more bad feelings about the Jedi and a great environment to grow the Separatist cause.
"I always heard so much about the Jedi. I never saw one, but they told me that was because you saved people -- and then you left!" - The Living Force
Enter Sifo-Dyas. As a member of the Jedi Council in this era, he would have overseen dozens of these painful but unavoidable closures. More, he was trained by Lene Kostana, a High Republic era Jedi, who remembered the golden age of the Jedi, all of these Jedi outposts, temples, and cultural centers being open and thriving, and surely filled her Padawan’s head with these stories. When Sifo-Dyas foresaw a coming cataclysmic war that would destroy the Jedi Order, it's not hard to see where he might have made a connection between the pervasive problem that was a lack of Jedi resources, and the galaxy falling further into darkness. In fact, it's exactly what happens in the prequels with a little push from the Sith.
The Living Force novel tells us outright that Sifo-Dyas’s original plan before deciding on the clones was to use his role as a Jedi Seeker to fill the Jedi Order with as many new Jedi as possible to counter the coming threats:
“(Sifo-Dyas) was always in a big damn hurry. Like the Republic would end if he didn’t swell the ranks.” - The Living Force 
Wow, Even Piell, that line aged like milk, buddy!
 Ki-Adi Mundi frowned. “Indeed, sometimes those he brought to us were not even viable candidates.”  - The Living Force 
So, Sifo-Dyas was originally trying to bring as many kids into the Order as possible, and didn’t particularly care if they were very Force sensitive. An intriguing detail, when considering how closely he might have imagined the non-Force-sensitive clones to work in Jedi roles.
Interestingly, he didn’t actually abandon that “swell the ranks” plan - he got his ass fired, so he couldn’t bring any more Jedi in the conventional way. Sifo-Dyas is in a desperate situation here, he feels he's running out of time, and he needs to get as many people into the Jedi Order as quickly as possible. I think you might see where I'm going with this.
“The future should remain unseen, but unfortunately, Sifo-Dyas has little choice in the matter.”  -Lene Kostana, Dooku Jedi Lost
We know he arranged the initial order for the clones, but not how he intended to use them, or saw their role, or even if he would have agreed with Jango as the DNA donor, since that part came in from Dooku.  If Sifo-Dyas, lifelong Jedi and true believer in the Order, was creating something to help defend his people in their darkest hour, it stands to reason that he might look within his own culture for their training, instead of outside of it.
Did he see them as a secret weapon, a surprise help in the hour of greatest need, as they would ultimately function as on Geonosis? Or did he envision the clones being raised with Jedi involvement on every level of their development, growing into keepers of the peace to fill those hundreds of empty temples and outposts and restabilize a galaxy sliding toward darkness?
I think an important clue that supports the latter argument is that as Sifo-Dyas is literally falling out of the sky to his death, he is busy trying to get a message to the Council that he ordered the clones via a recording: 
I've seen a vision of the future that I feel warrants an army. You've disagreed with me, but I felt I had no choice. Therefore I have ordered one: a clone army from the Kaminoans. Something must be done, and I made that decision. - Sifo-Dyas, Force Collector
He's hardly trying to keep the (currently embryonic!) clones a secret here. He seems to think he's done his part and the Council has no choice but to take it from there, and follow through with his unmentioned plan. He has delivered the needed personnel. And bear in mind, Sifo-Dyas did not expect his death to be a 10 year old mystery. He seems to have spent his very last breaths protecting Sillman and therefore leaving a witness to everything that happened. His last words are literally “Come find me!” 
These are not the actions of a man who has set his plan into perfect motion and a magic army will appear just at the right time in ten years. This is a man who is facing his unexpected death and realizing that he needs to tell the Council, who disagreed with him but he clearly still trusts, what he did because he won't be there to handle the details himself. It's almost poignant.
-
I worried about making this post at all because I’m not actually interested in blorbo apologism. Sifo-Dyas’s story is much more interesting if he is a good man forced to go to desperate, awful lengths to keep the apocalypse from happening. Whatever he intended the clones to be, it ended in Order 66; in a way, it doesn't even matter.  And yet, I think there’s something compelling there too, and I think canon gives us just enough - at least make an argument for a culturally-Jedi clone army what-if.
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hivemuthur · 1 day ago
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The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 2.
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viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)
AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor
Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6 | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.
word count: 4K
summary: Reader is hit by a truck which is *university*. So, a lot of studying and a lot of frustrations. And the TA is being a pain in the ass, you know how it is. Some science talk, based on the remnants of my knowledge from uni.
author’s note: Guys, you have showered me with love, so I'm showering you with writing. I have created a tag for this fic, will make it easier to find on my blog before I sit down and create a list, you will find it in the tag list.
Cross-posted on AO3 alongside POV3rd Person Version
Sue was so fucking right. It had only been one week of freedom, and then the workload came crashing down on you. Suddenly, every class had a welcome test attached to it, and you found yourself buried under a mountain of homework—chemical equations to solve and analyse, essays, books to read, lab practice, and lectures to attend. There wasn’t any snowball effect; it all hit at once, and by the time you and Sue returned on the first Monday of the second week, you were carrying enough work to fill two mules, and it would still have been too heavy even for them.
“Your mum is calling,” Sue’s voice pulled you out of a particularly boring passage about physical chemistry in one of your shared workbooks. You would usually put your phones on the cabinet for study time, but the vibration had startled Sue for the third time in ten minutes, so she decided to address it.
“Ugh, can you put her on speaker? I’ll deal with this quickly, and I don’t want to move,” you rolled your eyes, catching Sue’s judgmental glare. She’s your mum!
“Kochanie, finally! I’ve been trying and trying, how are you doing?” Your mum’s voice filled the room with her familiar heavy accent, though she insisted it was improving. Your dad didn’t speak a word of Polish, so Joanna had to switch to English entirely after you left.
“All good, Mum. Lots and lots and lots of studying,” you said, your voice so unamused you barely lifted your eyes from the book, though your gaze was unseeing. You had been staring at the same equation for about half an hour now.
“Have you been practising your affirmations?” Of course, you hadn’t. Silly idea.
“Yes, every day and every time someone pisses me off. How’s Dad?” You decided to deflect as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
“Dad went to Calais for a retreat, and I’m left alone for the entire week. He’s not allowed a mobile, you see,” Your mum rambled on a little longer, and you let her. You were happy to hear your parents were moving on after losing their only daughter. Even though Joanna insisted she could feel your presence in the house, in the clothes and trinkets you’d left behind, and could sense your moods through an invisible mother-daughter bond you shared. What a load of nonsense.
“Mamusia, I love you, but I have to go. I’m studying with Sue, and we’ve got a test in thirty minutes,” you added a round of loud pecks so she could hear the kisses through the phone speaker. She told you to wear red underwear and get Sue to kick you for good luck.
“Your mum sounds awesome,” Sue laughed under her breath. She tried to study but ended up listening to the entire conversation.
“Eh, she’s something. She’s pretty cool when she’s not suffocating you with love, you know?” You gave Sue a knowing smile, and she understood immediately. “Have you managed to learn anything? My brain is literally fuming.”
Sue groaned as she started packing up her notebooks to head toward the lab class. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I’ll use my last resort—can I borrow some red knickers?” You snickered as Sue shot you a huge mocking grin.
“No, but I can kick you alright, sweet Sue,” you couldn’t help but laugh. You gathered all the papers scattered around you with both hands and shoved them into your bag. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before leaving your dorm room, and Jesus Christ, your youth had already fled. Dark circles under your eyes, a gaunt face, lips chapped—all of it painfully underlined by an ink stain on your t-shirt. Whatever, there was no time to do anything about it.
It was Viktor’s class again. You had slowly grown to dislike them, ever since he and Jayce began to switch every second day, after Jayce got a new girlfriend—beautiful Mel Medarda, a third-year theatre student whom Hale once called a close second contender to rule the planet one day. Second after you, of course.
All of Viktor’s initial friendly sass had dissolved into the mean kind, which he executed each time Heimerdinger’s students were supposed to already know something they didn’t—including you. Thankfully, most of the time, you knew. The times you didn’t, he relished it and squeezed the situation to the maximum, like a sad lemon.
“Alright, take a test from the tray on the teacher’s desk and take your usual seat. And as usual, you can have a calculator and periodic table on your workbench,” Viktor’s instructions boomed through the lab classroom as one by one, students dragged themselves through the door, each one looking more exhausted than the other. “Looking ravishing today, Y/N,” he sent a smirk your way as you passed by him without sparing him so much as a glance and a quiet ‘hi.’
“Bite me, Viktor,” you barked back at him. What the hell was he thinking?
“Gladly, but maybe after class.” Usually, the smug look on his face would get you to scoff; this time, you granted him a faint eye roll as you dragged your feet toward the workbench you shared with Sue. As Viktor strolled through the room, making sure no one had anything illegal on their tables, he snatched your phone from your desk just as you were putting it into your bag.
“No phones,” he slid it into his lab coat pocket with a wink. You whined, about to say something you’d regret, but were immediately cut off by “I said, after class,” coming from behind you as you watched his back, your eyes burning a hole in it.
You solved the test first; you were so angry. As soon as you put it back in the tray, a realisation washed over you, and what you realised was the mistake you’d made in one of the exercises. You wanted to retrieve it and fix it, but Viktor’s hand shooshed you away.
“Come on, Viktor, it was there for less than a second!”
“You put it away, it’s gone for grading. That’s the rule. Also—it’s a learning curve,” he smiled at you sweetly, and you wanted to choke him out.
“Learning curve of what? That you are being a dick?” The last part was barely a whisper, nevertheless, a whisper that was fuming with rage and could cut through steel.
“Patience. And decision-making, which is a process that you clearly haven’t mastered yet,” he said coldly, not even looking you in the eye. This time, you did scoff, and angry steps carried you back to your seat.
The class settled into a more familiar rhythm after the test, the shuffle of papers and the steady hum of Bunsen burners filling the air. Viktor moved around the room, overseeing his students’ chemistry lab exercises with the same detached air he always wore. You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the test—and Viktor's smug little smile as he watched your frustration unfold.
The task at hand was simple enough: a titration experiment to determine the concentration of an unknown solution. Viktor had given you all the instructions, but as you watched the beaker of sodium hydroxide mix with the diluted acid, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Something about the instructions didn’t sit right with you.
You glanced over at Sue, who was carefully measuring out the chemicals. You leaned in, whispering so Viktor wouldn’t overhear.
“Sue, I think he messed up the ratios in the instructions. If we follow this, it’s gonna screw everything up. We’ll end up with a totally different result.”
Sue frowned, taking a closer look at the setup. “You sure?”
“I’m certain. The way he wrote it—if we add that much of the sodium hydroxide, the pH is going to overshoot too quickly. It'll neutralise the acid too fast, and we won’t get an accurate reading. If we’re supposed to get a neutralisation point, that change will mess with the whole titration curve.”
Sue was sceptical, but you were adamant. You felt it in your gut. "It’ll be off. Trust me."
Sue nodded reluctantly. "So, what do we do?"
You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tapping the edge of the desk as you thought. You pulled up a few formulas on Sue’s phone, glancing back at Viktor to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction.
“If we use less sodium hydroxide, the neutralisation will occur more slowly, and we’ll get a more accurate pH reading. We’re supposed to use a much more diluted solution.”
Sue nodded, though she looked uneasy. “What the hell, let’s try it.”
You adjusted the solution as you suggested, making the necessary changes to the procedure. You proceeded with the experiment, and despite her hesitation, Sue followed your lead. The two of you worked in tandem, the smooth, natural chemistry of your lab partnership taking over. As you neared the end of the titration, it was clear you had achieved the neutralisation point correctly—without overshooting or leaving any room for error.
Meanwhile, the rest of the class was still fumbling through their measurements, the air thick with the sounds of Viktor’s quiet reprimands. You couldn’t help but glance at him every now and then, noting the small, almost imperceptible frown on his face as he inspected his students’ work.
When the clock pointed to fifteen minutes away from the class ending, Heimerdinger stepped into the lab, his eyes scanning the results with interest. He walked toward your workbench, eyes lighting up as he reviewed your calculations.
“Well, it seems we have at least one pair who didn’t follow the instructions blindly,” Heimerdinger said, his voice rich with approval. “Good work, you two. You’ve done the experiment correctly. Trusting your instincts—making adjustments based on the data rather than simply following authority—is key in science. After all, we’re here to discover, not just to repeat what’s been done.”
You allowed yourself a smile of satisfaction, while Sue breathed a little easier, glancing at you in admiration.
Viktor’s face, however, was unreadable. He stood at the back of the room, arms folded tightly across his chest, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.
Heimerdinger didn’t seem to mind. “It’s a learning curve for all of us, even your teacher. Mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes when we challenge authority—question the procedures—that’s when we learn and grow. Science is born from curiosity and defiance. Respect is important, of course, but don’t be afraid to challenge when you feel something isn’t right.”
You raised an eyebrow at Viktor, who hadn’t said a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were hard as steel. He wasn’t pleased by Heimerdinger’s praise of your independent thinking.
“That’s how science is made,” Heimerdinger continued, completely oblivious to the tension between his students and the teacher. “By asking ‘what if?’ and exploring the unknown.”
Viktor finally spoke, his voice cool and controlled. “That’s true,” he said, glancing at you. “But there's a fine line between innovation and recklessness. Don’t mistake one for the other.”
You met his gaze, your jaw tight. “I don’t think we did.”
Viktor’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t respond, turning on his heel and walking toward the front of the room. Sue nudged you gently, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, at least we didn’t screw up,” she whispered.
You smiled back, but your mind was still racing. You had challenged Viktor’s authority—hadn’t followed his instructions—and it had got you praise from the professor. This couldn’t be good. “Sue, I don’t think I’m getting my phone back,” you whined into your friend's shoulder, who giggled uncontrollably.
You waited for your group to disperse into the library or the cantina before the start of the next lecture, making sure Viktor wouldn’t be able to humiliate you in front of anyone. You took a deep breath and knocked weakly on the door of the assistant’s back office.
“Come in,” Viktor’s voice was as flat and unwelcoming as ever. You braced yourself as you turned the doorknob and stepped inside quietly. Viktor was sitting at one of the tiny desks you were cramped at with Jayce and didn’t even look up. You cleared your throat.
“Yes?” This time, he looked up. God, he looked angry. When he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, he only sighed. “I doubt I can do much for you, Y/N. Given that you know everything already.”
“That’s rich coming from a guy who broke into the lab to prove his point once. Yes, Jayce told me,” you smiled at him sweetly, referring to his second-year incident when he and Jayce breached the lab security at night and conducted an experiment they were forbidden to do by Heimerdinger himself. This got them secure spots for PhD and TA positions.
Seeing that there was absolutely nothing coming from his direction but a blank stare, you asked carefully, “Well… why did you fuck up?”
Viktor sighed again, stood up slowly, and walked toward you. “Some theatre girls got us drunk last night—Mel’s friends. And I messed up the notes. Chemistry is not my major, as you know.” A smirk started to paint his face as he observed your reaction to the mention of drinking with some girls.
Viktor decided to push you further, his smirk widening as he leaned against the desk. “It’s hard to focus when you’re surrounded by Mel’s friends, you know. A lot of distractions. I haven't quite shaken last night off me yet,” he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Your heart dropped at his words. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but something inside you shifted—you didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Viktor was deliberately drawing attention to some girls, and it stung more than you cared to acknowledge.
You scolded yourself internally. Stop it. Don’t let him get to you. But it was already too late. You could feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe, or insecurity—but you refused to let it show.
Viktor, sensing your discomfort, didn’t let up. “By the way,” he said, his tone casual, “I took a closer look at your test. You know, given your answers, I understand how you worked out the correct proportions for the exercise. Same mistake you made on the test itself, right?”
Your stomach twisted, and your chest tightened. “So now you’re just going to relish in my defeat, aren’t you?” you shot back, your voice strained.
Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got far better things to relish in. Just making observations.”
You exhaled sharply, your anger bubbling over. “You know, because you were being such a dick, the thing I actually knew will probably lower my final grade now. Congratulations.”
Viktor’s smirk never faltered. “I wasn’t being a dick,” he said, voice smooth. “I was merely being a meticulous stiff bastard.” He leaned back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You were quite vocal about that, if I recall. Something about me being a ‘pedantic pain in the ass’ when you were drunk.”
Your face flushed, your hand tightening into a fist at your side. That comment struck a nerve you hadn’t even realised was there. Your heart pounded. “Are you seriously so petty, Viktor, that you’re going to take revenge for some drunken slur by messing with my grade?” you snapped, your voice rising. You turned to leave, the weight of your frustration heavy on your chest.
But Viktor’s voice stopped you cold. “Wait,” he said, and for a moment, you thought he was going to apologise. Maybe even admit he’d gone too far.
You glanced over your shoulder, ready to hear some kind of redemption. But then Viktor’s tone shifted again. “You didn’t forget something, did you?”
You froze as he pulled your phone from his pocket and held it out to you, a mischievous gleam in his eye. The sight of your phone in his hand made your heart sink. You really are a bastard, you thought.
With strained composure, you took the phone from him. Your fingers brushed his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. Viktor’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, and for the briefest second, you saw something flicker behind his usual cool façade. Something almost… uncertain.
Your stomach fluttered—No. Not now. Don’t let him do this to you.
You forced a tight smile, returning his gaze. “I can play this game too, Viktor,” you said, your voice low and controlled.
Viktor’s smirk faltered for a brief moment, and he leaned back against the desk, watching you with a hint of something deeper in his expression. His eyes softened, but he quickly masked it with another calculated look.
You turned to leave, your mind racing with frustration and another weird emotion you didn’t have the name for. Just before you reached the door, you felt a shift in the air. Viktor’s teasing had crossed a line, and somehow, the distance between you felt less like a joke and more like something real. Why does this matter so much to me?
Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. Viktor hadn’t just teased you. He’d affected you, and you hated that. As you stepped out of the office, you could feel his gaze on your back, following you, studying your body. You scolded yourself internally for looking like a wreck and made your way to join Sue in the library.
Your friend regarded you with concern as you slid into the chair at the table, books already splayed out in front of her. “Did you get your phone back?”
“Yeah, it was a fight to the death,” you mumbled, sighing heavily as you opened a massive tome of genetics for the next lecture.
“And who died?” Sue asked, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
“Oh, definitely me this time.” You whined and dropped your head face-flat onto the table. “I don’t understand when this happened. Can you direct me to a point in time when Viktor woke up and chose violence?” you chuckled despite yourself.
“Um… I think it was some time after the party where that cute curly-haired guy with a poetic name clung to you the entire evening. Or—” she smirked—“you calling Viktor a meticulous stiff bastard.”
“Ambrose? I completely forgot about him,” you mused for a second. There had been an Ambrose sometime during your first weeks. He was from the theatre department too, full of big words, slightly obsessive, but overall nice. You never gave him your number, though, deciding it wasn’t meant to be.
“So you think Viktor loves me so much, jealousy rotted his guts?” you laughed a little too loudly, drawing a few irritated ‘shh!’ sounds from nearby students.
“Let’s say it’s my instinct,” Sue replied with a mischievous smile. “And remember, Y/N—trusting your instincts is key in science,” she added in a hushed, exaggerated Heimerdinger impression, causing you to suppress your laugh even further.
***
Viktor stretched in his chair. The last paper to check stared him in the eye, glaring at him almost as intensely as you had that morning. He groaned slightly at the pain in his leg as the door creaked open.
“Hi, partner,” Jayce greeted, shooting him a smile that was a mix of guilt and a plea for forgiveness. He’d left Viktor for an entire day to gallivant around campus with Mel. She had apparently needed strong arms to carry boxes of flyers advertising their winter show.
“Don’t ‘hi, partner’ me, Jayce,” Viktor huffed but smiled faintly under his nose. “How was it?”
“She’s really something, Vik. I can tell you over a beer?” Jayce offered, clearly still buzzing from his all-day hangout with his beautiful, smart, interesting, unique, elegant, new girlfriend.
“I think I’m going to call it a night. One last paper to check.” Viktor groaned slightly as he flipped your paper in front of his friend’s face. Jayce snatched it mid-air and studied it carefully for a minute.
“How come? I thought she was the only one to work around your… notes mishap?” Jayce tread carefully, noticing the frown forming on Viktor’s forehead. He knew exactly how Viktor had messed up the notes—sadly, it was partially his fault as well.
Viktor leaned back in his chair, still staring at the paper. “Yes, indeed, she was. She even tried to fix her answer when she put the test into the box,” he muttered quietly under his breath.
Jayce raised an eyebrow. “So why didn’t she?”
Viktor rolled his eyes, the motion quick and dismissive. “Because, Jayce, I don’t make exceptions for students who can't follow the rules.”
“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “What did she do to get so deeply under your skin? Seriously, you're not usually like this.” Viktor was only mean and vigilant when he cared—or when he was hurt. That, Jayce knew. He just didn’t know which one it was.
Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, but there was an edge to his voice. “She’s just full of herself. Thinks she can do whatever she wants because she’s got it all figured out.”
Jayce’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Well, if someone’s getting on your nerves that much, it usually means they’re reflecting something about you that you don’t want to see.”
Viktor stared at him blankly, the words almost not registering. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. “When did you start spreading the wisdom of your people around the world, Jayce?”
Jayce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually. “Mel teaches me how to talk to difficult people now. You know, learning to understand them and not just shut them down immediately.”
Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone sceptical. “Am I the difficult one here?”
Jayce’s grin widened. “Clearly. I mean, you’re willing to fuck up Y/N’s final grade over a sentiment. That’s not exactly… rational behaviour, is it?” He leaned into the desk, hoping for a moment of self-reflection from his friend.
Viktor was silent for a moment, then scoffed, trying to brush off the conversation. “It’s not like that. I’m not just doing it to be petty.”
Jayce leaned in slightly. “So, what did you tell Heimerdinger about the mishap?”
Viktor leaned forward as well, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “I told him the truth—both of us fell asleep in the lab, working on our side project. I had to rush to class that morning. No big deal.”
Jayce nodded, processing this. “I’m sure Heimerdinger won’t bat an eyelid if you step up for Y/N, especially since she did well in class. If anything, she deserves some leniency.”
Viktor paused, looking at his friend thoughtfully. “I guess I could do that. Just… don’t think this is something I do for everyone,” he exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But I’ll talk to Heimerdinger.”
Jayce smirked, leaning back in his chair again. “There you go. Maybe Mel’s influence is working on you after all.”
Viktor shot him a look, clearly not amused. But deep down, he couldn't deny there was something about you that unsettled him—and, for some reason, it had started to bother him more than he cared to admit.
“Just keep your wisdom to yourself,” Viktor muttered. “And get out of my office. I still have work to do.”
Jayce chuckled but stood up, winking. “Hey, it’s my office as well! But yeah, I get the point.” As Jayce exited, Viktor stared at the paper before him, his mind occupied by frustration. A meticulous stiff bastard he was indeed.
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thiccpersonality · 1 day ago
Text
5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)
4: The Girls
⚠️WARNING⚠️: there is suicide mentions and attempts in this chapter. Nothing overly graphic, but it is mentioned, so I just thought I should forewarn of that just in case my loves.
Enjoy! 💛
Barbara remembers when she first met Batman, it was a pivotal moment in her life, a time where she was just an insecure teenager trying to find her way in the world. She remembers being bright eyed and curious towards her Uncle Jim when she found out he worked with the mysterious Batman; Gotham's faithful caped protector. But before that, it was a point and time in her life that she doesn't like remembering too often (before meeting the Bat that is), she was still suffering the loss of her parents even after all the years of coping–okay, maybe coping isn't the right word exactly? 
Try: lashing out and being rebellious.
It seems as if everything in her life got harder after her parents tragic passing: she couldn't concentrate in school anymore, she could start fights as much as she defended herself from them, she talked back in a way she never used to before, her moods felt unstable most days and seemed to grow worse the older she got, etc.
She felt like the world was out to get her now that her parents-her protection-went away.
As if just because her guardians are no longer in her life that it gives the world the right to bully her.
There were times that she felt guilty over her attitude...especially towards her uncle, he was nothing but patient and kind to her, even when she was being an ass to him, and he quickly started to become like a second dad to her. Something that made Barbara feel guilty and distressed, because it's not like she was trying to replace her biological father, she just...she just recognized that firm yet gentle attitude Jim has as being similar in a way only a father's can be like. Sometimes she believes that's why she talked to Uncle Jim the way she did as a teen, all because she felt guilt over 'replacing' her parents when that's not what it was at all, she was just finally learning to move on.
Barbara may not like to look back at her teenage years too fondly, but she does hold close the sincere affection from her uncle and the day she met Batman, a day that she'll never forget as long as she lives.
————°————
Barbara stumbles back into her teacher's desk, her eyes red and tears hot as they pour from her eyes, her breathes sharp as she loudly inhales for air. Glare held onto the door where another student is being dragged out of it by another teacher, a feeling of satisfaction bubbling up in her chest at the sight of their nose dripping with blood, it's what they get for picking on her so much. The young teen snaps out of her anger induced haze at the feel of a cool cloth being softly pressed to her knuckles, her red rimmed eyes being drawn up to her math teacher. "Barbara."
The ginger only responds with a sniffle, avoiding her teacher's stare in favor of looking at the chalkboard.
"Barbara-" they sigh softly-"you know I'm going to have to call your uncle. You promised me that you wouldn't get into any more altercations with other students, and this fight ended up with someone's nose being bloody."
The girl furrows her brows in displeasure, glaring at the chalkboard at the thought of her uncle finding out about another fight...again. "It wasn't my fault! Lorraine is always being a jerk to me all the time. She started the fight by cornering me...so I decided to end it." Barbara hisses as the pain in her knuckles finally registers, the washcloth dabbing softly at the cuts to her hands, the adult humming at their student's side of the story. "Okay, she shouldn't have cornered you, I agree with that. But, you are a very bright girl, Barbara, and sadly in public school there are...rules and ways both teachers and students have to conduct themselves, okay? I know most of the fights you get into are with bullies...but there's only so many times I can try sticking up for you before the school expels you-"
Barbara snatches her hands away from the cloth, her eyes stinging with unshed tears from the unfair treatment, "But why don't they expel the kids who are picking on me?! I'm not allowed to do anything for myself." The adult opens their mouth to try and explain, closing it instead and pulling out ointment for Barbara to put on her cuts while softly telling her, "Make sure to use it this time...stop letting it hurt on purpose. I'm going to call your uncle now, try to cool down and remember that there's snacks in the lower drawer."
Barbara rolls her eyes and sits in the teacher's chair instead, resting her face in the crook of her arms and forsaking the ointment, dropping it in one of her backpack's side pockets and closing her eyes to think.
.
.
.
.
"-bara." A hand gently rests on the teens shoulder, shaking her body gently. "Barbara, wake up, it's time to head on home." A soft groan escapes the sleeping figure, Barbara sitting up with her eyes closed and smacking her lips as she tries to wake up, when did she even fall to sleep?
The sound of the voice speaking quietly to her registers in Barbara's sleep addled mind, her eyes snapping open to look up at her Uncle Jim Gordon, guilt rising up in her at seeing how tired the other man looks...probably because of her. "Hi...I don't wanna go home right now." The older man stares at his niece before conceding with a tired sigh, "Alright...we won't go home yet. How does burgers sound to you?" Jim nods in thanks to the math teacher before leading Barbara out of the classroom, the girl humming in thought before answering. "It depends on if burgers come with fries and a milkshake?" Jim smirks at his niece, deciding that he can spend a few extra bucks on the younger, what he wanted to say being forgotten as he finally gets a good look at Barbara, frowning at her puffy eyes and scratched knuckles. "Babs, what happened to your hands? Did you get into another fight today?" Jim questions, snatching one of the girl's hands into his own, stopping them in the middle of the school entrance and watching his niece's face closely as she frowns in displeasure.
"Mr. Halloway didn't tell you?" 
Barbara chances a glance at the older man, shoulders tensing at the unhappy look he's giving her. "So...he didn't tell you, why did you even come here when you didn't know what happened?"
Jim rubs at his forehead with a sigh, his tone matter of fact, as if what he's saying is something the younger should already know. "Why wouldn't I come and get you? Your teacher said that you needed me to come to you...it sounded really serious-" he stops as the shorter snatches her hand away, hiding the bruised flesh behind her back as she rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue at the man's concern.
"Well it's nothing, so, you came here for no reason. It was just a fight. I could have walked home by myself."
Barbara makes her way out of the school and towards her uncle's car, the man hot on her heels as she tries to downplay the situation, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion towards his niece. "Barbara-wait! Would you just...stop for one second-" he gently grabs the girl's wrist-"I came here for a perfectly good reason; you are that reason and that's all I need to go anywhere for you. And second, you know I don't like you walking home alone. Third, you keep getting into fights...there is obviously something going on and I want to know what that is, but I can't try to help when you won't open up to me and say anything. And Mr. Halloway called me but didn't explain because he said he wanted you to have the choice to do so."
Barbara digs her nails into the palms of her hands, pulling her wrist away from her uncle's careful hold as she narrows her eyes at him accusingly.
"Cut it with the shit! You always say you'll be there for me when I need you, but you weren't there when my parents died, were you?!" Her words are sharp as she hisses at the older man, like knives expertly targeting its mark as they dig into his heart, Jim frowning down sadly at Barbara.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Barbara, I tried to help your father in any way that I could, but-"
Barbara doesn't know what came over her...she just feels like everyone is against her lately, always making excuses as to why people are able to treat her the way they do, always an excuse as to why she isn't allowed to act the way she does.
Jim sucks in a sharp breath at the stinging slap to his cheek, it's not the worst hit he's taken...but his eyes water simply because of who it's coming from, he doesn't know what to say to start helping Barbara. Eversince her mother and father's passing, there's been a rift between their relationship because he-he wasn't there for the family in the way he should have been, he knows deep down that there's not much he could have done, he can't help someone that doesn't want to be helped, and seeing his brother's alcohol addiction slowly consume his life was soul crushing; to see the person he ate, slept, played with and fought with lose himself to the bottom of a bottle just like their father was a horrifying realization.
But he tried.
God, did Jim try to get his brother help, especially when seeing his behavior change towards his wife and daughter: getting snippier, shouting and screaming for no reason, putting his hands on people, harshly speaking to his daughter in a way that was deeply concerning.
Barbara was a bit too young and innocent at the time to truly pay much attention to those things, not saying she didn't notice them, but she always made little excuses for her dad to avoid the revelation of just how much her father has changed. Every question he would ask his little niece about their home life whenever he next saw her was met with the innocent exclamation of, "My daddy's just a bit tired from work! He throws tantrums like I do sometimes when I'm sleepy!" It hurt to see. But there wasn't much he could do as his sister-in-law didn't want to press charges at the time, she loved his brother so much that it hurt, all for the sake of trying to stay long enough to help him seek help.
Every plead to her for herself and Barbara to live in his little apartment as long as they needed went unheard as the woman insisted that all she needed was enough time for her husband to grasp what she was begging to him about. That one day it'd click and he'd understand the severity of his actions.
But that day never came.
It was a surprisingly cool summer afternoon when it happened; a Saturday, when Jim and Barbara excitedly waved off her parents, the family excited as Roger woke up that day suddenly agreeing to rehab and therapy to deal with personal issues that were causing him to drink.
It was too good to be true, but Jim and Barbara thought nothing of it, celebrating with pizza and ice cream while his niece jumped around the house screaming about how her daddy was finally going to be better. Things were going so well too that day, Roger even having a surprisingly cheerful countenance as he told the family about his decision, the soft look in his eyes unassuming as he looked at his teary eyed daughter; they thought it was just him realizing how much he loves his family.
The too tight-almost desperate-hug Roger gave to Jim and Barbara before leaving was chalked up to a promise that things will only get better from there.
And the kiss the man gave to his wife was slow and passionate; intimate, as if it was a goodbye, the woman just giggling into the kiss as she called Roger's name breathlessly-and somewhat fretfully-at the fact he kissed her that way in front of family. No one thought anything of Roger taking the car keys from Thelma with a small smirk on his face, insistent on how he really wants to drive as he gave one last close look at his brother and daughter before leaving. 
It was only a few hours later when Jim received a call, his sleep being interrupted as he reached for his phone quickly, hoping that he wasn't being called in for work...but anything would have been better than what he answered to.
A car crash; suicide.
He arrived at the scene after leaving his worried and confused niece with a trustworthy neighbor, walking up to a sorrowful looking police partner as they handed him a suicide note that was carefully placed in a small, beautifully decorated jewelry box taped inside the glove compartment with a necklace for Barbara inside of it. The note mentioned that Roger loved his family a lot, especially Barbara, and that he never wants her to think anything that happened was her fault...but that he was unwell for a long time and sought help on his own, stating that the drinks never truly filled that hole inside of him due to the cracks inside, he can't stay full when there's leaks inside the building. He asked for Jim to take care of his daughter and be there for her in a way that he couldn't, that he made the decision to take Thelma with him because he knew she'd be heartbroken if he died on his own, but that Jim and Barbara are strong enough to continue living their lives.
Jim felt like throwing away the note because he felt so...so...angry at his brother for doing what he did, he hated thinking it, but he felt like Roger was being cowardly. Running as he always did like when they were growing up and things got too hard for him, never properly wanting to face the consequences of his actions and leaving anyone and everyone who's ever cared about him to deal with the fallout of it.
It was surreal to go back home to Barbara, the small pup running up to him with her nose twitching, scenting her uncle's distressed scent as she bumped her head carefully into his legs and hugged onto him, trying to comfort him even though she didn't know what was going on yet.
It was the moment he told her what happened that their relationship shifted with each other.
And now, after a few years later, Jim is left with a bitter and upset teenager.
The alpha blinks away his tears-and his thoughts-breathing out slowly, opening the door for his niece and gesturing for her to get in the car. Barbara grinds her teeth together, looking down at her hands and cursing herself for being so difficult, she didn't mean to hit her uncle. A part of her wants to apologize, but another stubborn part of her insists that she has no reason to, so, she keeps her lips shut tight as Jim sits in the driver's seat.
"What burger do you want? The usual you always get?"
Barbara looks at the alpha in disbelief...she...hit him out of anger...and he wants to feed her?
The teen feels her lip wobble in guilt, sitting on her hands to keep them from doing something impulsive to hurt herself with and lowering her head so that her orange hair falls down slightly trembling shoulders to cover the remorseful look she knows that is on her face. "Home."
Jim bites at his lip to stop himself from saying anything to the beta, sighing tiredly and turning on the car so they can head on home.
XXX
Barbara jumps out of the car as soon as it's in park, ignoring her uncle calling for her as she pulls out the extra house key from her backpack and unlocks the door, slamming it in Jim's face just for show at this point, still not wanting the older man to know just how sorry she feels.
The girl rushes to her room and shuts it quickly at hearing the front door opening, locking it and resting her head against it, finally allowing her tears of regret and frustration to fall. "Shit, Barbara, what were you thinking? Are you stupid or something?" She tugs at her hair harshly in the hopes of grounding herself, dumping her backpack onto the floor and pushing away from the door to flop onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow and screaming into it before turning her head to the side to look at her slightly busted knuckles.
Barbara sighs as she flexes her fingers, breath hitching as the torn skin stings slightly from the stretch, her eyes drifting to the fallen backpack by her door as she thinks about what Mr. Halloway said, "Stop letting it hurt on purpose." 
The slight pain to her hand brings Barbara out of her thoughts, sighing as her stomach also rumbles loudly in hunger, the young girl rolls onto her back and groans up at the ceiling as she whispers to herself, "Should've went for that burger." The beta squints her eyes in deep thought before turning to rummage through her drawer, pulling out enough cash from saving her allowance to get a burger and fries, "I don't need anyone. I can walk on my own."
Barbara rolls off her bed and stuffs the cash inside of her shoe, tiptoeing over to the window and opening it, shivering at the cool autumn air that brushes against her cheek...at least the walking will keep her warm enough.
The beta climbs down the fire escape, feeling satisfied with leaving her window open so that when Jim comes to check on her all he sees is proof that she "ran off". It's not like she's sneaking out for any bad reasons anyway, she's just really hungry and is going to get herself something to eat...it's not the end of the world just because she decided to walk outside alone, a girl needs her space sometimes.
Barbara allows her mind to wander as she walks, inhaling the crisp autumn air as she feels some of her worries lift a little, she enjoys this season a lot: the changing of the leaves, the soups and warm drinks one consumes during this time of year, the chill to the air that can be the right amount of cool. It's a bit of a bittersweet feeling this season brings too...but she thinks that it's better than feeling so lost, alone and angry as she has been as of late, this time reminds her of her parents and when things were generally going good for her family, her mom always loved to decorate their house with little pumpkins strewn about the room, the omega doing anything she could to get her hands on fall themed apparel to cover her family from head to toe with.
And her dad.
Barbara can almost smell the cinnamon apple tart her dad loved to bake around this time of year, can taste the cinnamon hot chocolate he always allowed her to help make with him.
She just wants to know where it all went wrong...her parents marriage didn't seem to be rocky at the time, and there wasn't anything that she saw or overheard her father struggling with, but it seemed like one night out at the bar turned to two and two into three and so on. Barbara remembers the day her Uncle Jim told her about the accident, she was stunned into silence as he carefully handed the wooden jewelry box to her, not knowing how to feel at the sight of a beautifully delicate necklace with her name engraved on the front.
But she did know how to feel at the, 'I love you always, my heart', that was on the inside of the heart shaped locket; angry. 
Barbara felt as if the words were a lie, because who leaves behind their ten year old daughter to fend for herself just when things started to get better? But, she knew it wasn't her parents fault for someone else's mistake...if anything, she always thought that if anyone would get into a drunk driving accident, that it would be her father and not some stranger who was stupid enough to be on the road at the wrong time.
She remembered thinking about how she'll find the perpetrator someday and bring them in for the murder of her parents-or kill them herself-she's not too picky.
The beta still has the wooden box stashed away in her room...even though she was in pain and hurting from her father getting into a drunk driving accident, she could never find enough strength to open up the box and wear the necklace like how she promised she would, she just stashed it away and never wore the one thing that would remind her of what she loved most. Barbara shakes herself out of her thoughts as she's arrived at her destination, breathing on her cold fingers as she steps inside of the warm building and taking a seat first, giving her own body time to warm up before she thinks of ordering.
The beta sits there for a few minutes, blankly staring at a stain on the table as her mind wanders off again, snapping out of it at a cheery voice speaking to her.
"Mind if I sit here with you?! Looks like there's lots of room!"
Barbara looks up at the stranger, taking note of his fancy looking school uniform and raising a brow at the tray full of two double cheeseburgers and large fries on the boy's tray. "Cheap burgers? You look like you could afford anything you want and you choose to eat this food?"
The beta frowns as the other takes her response as an okay to take a seat across from her, "I don't think I could afford anything on my own? But my mom can! And cheap, greasy burgers are what I like to eat best-don't tell Alfred that though!" The boy-that Barbara surmises is about her age or a bit older or younger...she can't really tell-just smiles giddily at her, the beta's nose twitching as she scents the other and smells the alpha trying to develop on him, the boy not bothered at all by her hesitation. "Uh...who in the world is Alfred?"
The young alpha sticks his nose up and shakes his head, "Sorry. Can't tell you that. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
Barbara's hesitation turns to irritation as she scoffs and crosses her arms, "Whatever. You're the idiot that-" she blinks in surprise at the hand the other suddenly extends, that stupidly infuriatingly happy smile still on the boy's face as he introduces himself, "I'm Richard! And what's your name, fair maiden? That way I can tell you who Alfred is without getting into trouble for talking to strangers."
The alpha keeps his hand in midair, shaking it around when all she does is stare at it as if it's an alien species.
Barbara rolls her eyes and slowly brings her hand up to shake Richard's hand, not able to control the smirk as the other shakes it up and down enthusiastically. "My name's Barbara...good sir?"
Richard smiles at the girl's attempt to play along, nodding his head and pushing his tray to the middle of the table and gesturing for her to eat his food. "A name that fits the beauty of the girl who bears it-" his blue eyes drift down to the scrapes and cuts on her hands-"What happened to the hands though? Looks like you punched something."
Barbara leans back against her seat and blows a stray hair out of her eye with a proud smirk, "Try someone."
The boy gasps, eyes shining as he leans forward like a little predator, "Tell me more! Some reason I've been cursed to never see a fight break out at my school-I mean, where's the drama and sense of adventure with those people? Anyway, why'd you punch someone? Were they messing with you-oh, oh! Maybe you were playing the hero and saved someone from being bullied?"
Barbara shakes her head, "If by someone you mean me...then yes. That skank Lorraine deserved it." She growls with a small sniffle, turning her nose up defiantly.
Richard nods in agreement while biting into a fry, "Yeah! Wait...who is Lorraine and why is she a skank-excuse my language."
Barbara finally takes a fry and pops it into her mouth, shaking her head with a tsk, "You have to tell me who Alfred is first and then I'll tell you about Lorraine. So?" The boy perks up and nods, pushing one of his burgers the beta's way, "He's like my grandpa and the family butler."
Barbara furrows her brows as she bites into the burger, voice muffled slightly from the food in her mouth. "B't...s'he the gr'pa or b'tl'r?"
The alpha just smiles and nods, "Yes! But he's the greatest butler-grandpa that any kid could ever ask for. His cooking is really good and he smells really nice and he feeds me good food. That's why I said don't let him know that I said I prefer cheap, greasy burgers...he would feel offended at my taste-or lack thereof-in food."
Barbara snorts in amusement, feeling herself relax under this strange boy's innocently genuine ardor. "Yeah...well, I don't think you have to worry about Alfred finding out about anything, I don't even know who he is or what he looks like...so you are covered there." She bites at her burger again, looking up from her food at the feeling of the alpha's expectant look, slowly realizing what he's waiting for and clearing her throat when she's done chewing. "Right, Lorraine. I don't think there's much to say about her other than she sucks. I...tend to get into a lot of fights at school, and then I'm the one that gets into trouble for it. And while I have started my fair share of fights, it's only because Lorraine and her flock of mindless, spineless bimbo and himbo zombies for 'friends' pick on me. My parents always taught me to stick up for myself and that's exactly what I'm doing."
Richard frowns sympathetically at her, chewing on a fry as he shakes his head disappointedly. "And this is exactly what's wrong with our society today-" he leans forward with an impish gleam in his eyes-"Whaddya say about me convincing my mom to transfer me to your school? He has the money to do it without an issue...and I'm sure I can make a convincing enough presentation for him to allow it."
Barbara hates how easily Richard is able to make her feel happy without an issue, she's almost jealous of the way happiness seems to come naturally to the other.
"Your mom makes you do presentations whenever you wanna do something? I admit...you don't seem like a bad kid, but why would you even come to my school, there's nothing special there? And what would you even say to convince him to transfer you? Cause I'm pretty sure the only reason is that you want to beat someone up, Mr. Where's The Drama." Barbara smiles at Richard and tilts her head, genuinely curious as to what his answers will be.
The alpha places his hand on his chest and gasps in mock offense, "Does it really look like little ol' me could beat up anyone? And mama only makes me present certain things cause he says I need to learn to negotiate things better, says he won't have a son that's easily taken advantage of by sweet words and seemingly good deals...we don't want another zun house incident-anyway! I would come to your school because I'm a good person and want to help a new friend out, and only for that reason, thank you very much! And the thing that would make my mom transfer me issssss—drumroll please?" He drums his fingers against the table, "You are a kid!"
Barbara bites her lip so she doesn't smile so hard, a chuckle escaping her at the reason. "I'm a kid? That's really your strongest powerpoint? I see why your mom makes you do a dissertation explaining why you want to do the things you do, you give such sloppy explanations for yourself." Richard pouts and throws a fry at Barbara's head, smirking at her shout of protest towards the 'attack'. "It's not sloppy, it's camp, Barbara. And you're right...I was wrong, I would have to mention that you are a sad and lonely looking kid too." 
The beta gapes at Richard, stuttering and crossing her arms defensively, she doesn't know if he meant that to hurt or what? It definitely seems like he's being serious which is almost so much worse than him trying to be meanspirited about it—at least dealing with jerks is what she's used to.
No, wait.
Something in Richard's eyes looks oddly...perceptive, causing an emotional whiplash for the girl at how his gaze seems carefully watchful; analytical, gone is the playful shine to his eyes in favor of adopting an odd sort of hardness to them...though Barbara doesn't necessarily feel scared because of the look, at least not for any bad reason. It's just...jarring for the boy's eyes to look so intense while his face is still open and friendly, it's as if his eyes scream of a whole different person that the beta doesn't know about, his stare seeming to strip her down to the bone until nothing but her vulnerable little heart is left on display for him to see.
That's the thing that is scaring her.
And scare her it does, enough for her to stretch over the table to cover the boy's eyes, uncaring of the salt and grease on her hands as she's now left with the alpha's friendly smile.
Yeah...that is definitely creepy how different he appears with just his eyes covered.
"Don't be an ass...I'm not a sad or lonely looking little kid-" Barbara hopes her voice isn't as strained as she feels it is-"What in your drama loving mind made you think that?" Gosh, she doesn't even know what possessed her to ask, but there's almost a desperation to know what he thinks.
Richard taps around the table–searching–until he lands on a fry, popping it into his mouth with a thoughtful hum, "I love a good drama just as much as the next person...but I wasn't trying to be an ass-excuse my language-about it. I noticed the way you were spacing out over here-" Barbara's eyes widen in shock at the finger that rests on her lips to keep her quiet, as if he knew she was going to protest-"and before you say anything sarcastic about it, it wasn't just because you were spacing out that I felt something was off. You...you have that look in your eyes, you know? The one that shouldn't be in anyone's gaze...but especially a kid's."
Barbara feels a bit of that irritation flare up at the accuracy of his claims, but she also feels an odd sense of relief that fills her at being seen for how she actually feels; sad and lonely.
The beta sniffles and plops back into her seat, avoiding eye contact with the alpha and shrugging, "Maybe those dissertations aren't always so sloppy?" She manages a small smile at the surprised laugh escaping Richard, glancing his way as he taps his temple with his index finger. "I still know how to use my brain properly! Just because I'm silly it doesn't mean I'm stupid." Barbara nods and studies the kid as he looks outside the window, his eyes scanning the busy sidewalk as if in search of someone specific, her curiosity is peaked by her new...friend, she doesn't think she's met anyone quite as interesting and perceptive as Richard before.
The two now remain in a surprisingly tranquil quietness, eating their now cool burgers and (somehow) still slightly warm fries in companionable silence.
Barbara can feel herself growing a bit sad as they both finish their food, the boy wiping away any stray crumbs or salt flakes from the table with a napkin and back onto his tray. The silence being broken as Richard softly asks, "Was it both your parents? A parent maybe?" With a small gasp, Barbara looks back up into Richard's eyes again, only to be met with a familiar look in his eyes as he stares at her, his gaze sorrowful and apologetic towards whatever it is she had to go through. 
Barbara feels her eyes watering again, nodding and wiping at her tears to try and get them to stop. "M-My mom and dad. S-Same day. Car accident. D-Drunk driving"
Richard hums and stands from his seat, wrapping his arms around the girl and crying with her when he feels tears wetting the front of his shirt, resting his cheek against the other's head and close to her ear so what he says next is heard by her alone. "I'm sorry, Barb. Mine-" he swallows down the lump in his throat-"mine died on the same day too. It was a murder."
Barbara's eyes widen and she peeks up at the boy, her eyes widened in horror, "W-Were you there to...you know?"
At the young alpha's slow nod, she hugs onto him tighter and sniffles while rubbing his back comfortingly. "T-That's–I'm sorry you had to witness that, I can't imagine how you fe-"
Barbara gasps as one of his hands reaches behind his back to tap at her knuckles softly, the bruised flesh aching the tiniest bit as he does so. "I think you know exactly how I felt...you are still in the process of it and sometimes I still am too, but it's not impossible to-to try moving on...I think it's what our parents would want us to do because they loved us. You should try taking care of your hands when you get back home to whoever you decided to freak out today, don't let the pain stay and become you."
"Master Richard?"
Barbara and said alpha both turn their heads to the entrance, the beta sniffling and pulling away from the warm embrace to rub at her eyes, immediately knowing that the older alpha looking imploringly at Richard is definitely an Alfred...he does smell nice and looks like the best grandpa-butler ever.
Richard glances at Barbara, smiling when the beta turns playful and zips her lips shut, mouthing, "Your secret is safe with me."
The young alpha's smile is blinding as he chuckles and mouths, "Thank you", back at her with a playful wink while exclaiming a little too loudly about how he hopes to see her again someday. Barbara waves goodbye as she watches the two leave the restaurant, a coldness consuming her as she makes up in her mind to head home as quickly as possible.
XXX
Barbara curses softly to herself as she stumbles in through the window, knocking over the pencil holder on her desk and looking up to the bedroom door worriedly, half expecting her uncle to come busting through before she realizes after a minute of standing still that the alpha didn't even hear her. "Thank God-" she mutters and crawls the rest of the way in, shutting the window as softly as she can and smiling victoriously as she got away with it-"Maybe I should go apologize?"
The young beta bites her lip when thinking about Richard and Alfred, at how-even though she barely knows them-the two looked to be close with the way the younger wrapped his arms around the older as they walked away.
The boy also mentioned something about not letting things hurt-just like her teacher did-and even how moving on is possible...she is...not really realizing it-but more so focusing properly on what she knew was already there, how she's afraid of moving on and allowing herself to grow beyond the pain she's felt for a couple years now. Barbara knows that she's almost slipped up and called her Uncle Jim dad before...and that was something that horrified her-that still scares her-and out of that fear she treats her uncle unfairly.
Barbara makes her way over to the door, reaching for the handle and pausing when she sees that it's already cracked open, her curiosity peaked as she calls for her uncle.
"Uncle Jim!" Barbara cracks open the door and pokes her head out with a frown on her face when she doesn't get an answer, that's weird...it's not like her uncle to ignore her calls, he always responds no matter what, even if she's just trying to get on his nerves. "Uncle Jim!?" She tries to ignore the anxiety scratching at her chest as she thinks that maybe he's finally left her, that maybe after dealing with her attitude so much he's finally thrown in the towel and left her alone as she so often screams for the alpha to do.
Barbara swallows down the whimper that wants to escape her and rushes to her uncle's bedroom, poking her head into the dark room and hoping she'll see his sleeping form under the covers.
"Crap!" The beta hisses at the unruffled sheets, rushing out of the room and back to her own to dig through her backpack and pull out her phone, freezing over her uncle's phone number when realizing that's probably why she can't find him, he went to look for her. Barbara curses herself again and looks at the thirty plus missed calls from the alpha and the abundance of text messages asking where she's at and to come back home, that feeling of guilt and shame overtaking her earlier anxiety at how much she's truly putting her uncle through, texting a quick I'm home because she doesn't feel brave enough to call him herself.
After her message goes through, the young teen mutes her phone in worry of the older man's possible response towards her, tossing her phone on her bed and burying her face in her hands. One minute she's in her room and the next Barbara knows, her feet and instincts have carried her to the comfort of her uncle's bedroom and onto his bed, her nose seeking out the man's comforting scent left in the pillows as she buries her face in them.
A whine escapes her as it doesn't feel like enough...she wants her uncle, not the pillows or the bed. She wants to be wrapped in a warm hug and cuddles–why did she ever tell him to leave her alone?
Barbara sniffles and wraps her arms comfortingly around herself before heading over to the closet, searching through it in the hopes of finding something to cover herself with that is her uncle's, her eyes being caught on a familiar looking coat pushed into the very back of the closet, a shocked hiccup escaping her as she reaches for the coat Jim wore the day her parents died. She feels like she shouldn't be reaching for it...let alone putting it on, but there's an odd sense of comfort she feels as she slips the heavy jacket on.
For her, it's a symbol of strength and comfort as this is the same coat her uncle wrapped her up in the day he told her about the accident, the beta's fingers shakily buttoning up the coat and sighing in relief as the warmth consumes her.
Barbara hums contentedly into the collar of the coat, stuffing her hands in the pockets and growing confused at the paper she feels in the right pocket of it. The girl sniffles and steps into the light of the bedroom, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought at the familiar looking scribbles on the piece of paper...why does it look so recognizable?
Blue eyes scan the now open paper slowly as she slowly realizes why the scrawl looks so familiar, it's because her father wrote it. But why would her uncle have a note from her father in his pocket? Barbara feels her heart race as she reads the note, so caught up in the letter that she doesn't hear the front door slamming open and Jim calling her name fretfully, her eyes are glued onto each word as the truth is revealed: her father committed suicide and he took his wife–her mother–with him.
"Barb-" Jim sighs in relief at seeing the young teen standing in his room-"where did you go? I called and I texted you but you never responded."
The alpha frowns at the lack of a response, his concern growing at the scent of tears in the air, a soothing rumble escaping his chest as he steps closer to the girl, eyes widening as the hand he tries to set over her shoulder is slapped away. "Why...why did you never tell me?" Her voice is watery as she asks, turning around and holding up the paper accusingly to her uncle's face, "You told me that it was a drunk driver. Why did you-I don't-my father committed suicide and you never told me?" Barbara narrows her eyes at the taller, laughing incredulously at the look on her uncle's face. "And what's that look for? Disappointed that I finally found out the truth, huh?! You thought you could keep this from me forever and that-that I'd what? Move on someday and be happy thinking someone else killed my parents and got away with it? You thought I couldn't-" her voice wavers-"couldn't handle knowing I wasn't enough for him."
Jim's eyes widen and he shakes his head, a distressed sound escaping him as he stares at the girl's trembling form. "T-That's not what it is, Barbara, I promise that it's not sweetheart. Y-Your father...he was really sick on the inside and felt like there was nothing that could have helped him-"
Barbara balls her hands into fists, the paper crinkling as it's crushed, "Then I guess my mom felt that way too?! She had to leave me as well because I wasn't a good enough pup for her or dad-" the girl nods her head adamantly when the alpha shakes his in refusal-"Yes, yes, that's what it was and you all were-and still are-lying about it! You could never be honest to me about a-anything!" She screams and doesn't bother wiping away her tears, sobbing loudly as she looks down at the note with blurry eyes and mutters. "I-I would have d-done what was needed to fix myself if you all would have just asked." 
Barbara's voice is hoarse as she tapers off, running under her uncle's arms as he tries to hug her and ignoring his shouts for her to come back as she runs out of the apartment door.
.
.
.
.
The beta gasps for air, her lungs burning and legs aching as she finally slows to a stop. Barbara doesn't even know how long she's been running for or how far she's ran, but the buildings no longer look familiar to her, maybe she's too distressed right now to fully pay attention to anything? Her attention, however, is immediately caught by a big looking building that towers over the others built next to it, her mind pushing her to go to the very top just to simply sit.
Yeah, just to sit.
Barbara sniffles and looks inside the window, noticing that there is still someone sitting at the front desk but choosing to step into the building anyway, smiling awkwardly as the receptionist looks up and eyes her suspiciously.
"I'm sorry, we're about to close, and there's no children allowed inside of the building."
The beta glances towards the elevator, wondering how she'll make it to the top floor and to the roof, "U-Um...it was starting to get really cold o-outside, and I lost my way as I was walking, so...I decided to come in here to get warm." She breathes on her hands to add to the helpless look she's going for, sighing into her hands softly in relief as the receptionist looks a bit more concerned now. "Are you okay? Do you...do you need anything to drink? I'm sure we still have hot cocoa in the break room, you can take a seat right over there and I'll bring it to you and then we can call someone to come get you."
Barbara nods her head in thanks and waits for the adult to leave, rushing over to the elevator and keeping an eye out for the receptionist as she waits for it to reach the main floor. The beta breathes a sigh of relief once she finally steps inside the elevator, pressing the button to the highest floor and stuffing her hands in her pockets while spacing out.
Barbara can hardly believe what she was told...I mean, she's been grieving her parents for a couple years now only to find out that they never died because of someone else's recklessness, but because of suicide. Honestly, she feels like it's all her fault...she really does, that's probably the reason why her dad started drinking was because she was too hard to handle–and what about her mom? Did she decide to die alongside her husband because she loved him more than their daughter? It's hard for Barbara not to think that, and a part of her is...jealous, about her dad, at the fact that he held her mother's heart so close to himself in a way that the beta couldn't, maybe her hands were too small at the time to properly hold it in her own?
Another part of the teen feels upset that they both decided to go on without her-they were being selfish when she thinks about it-I mean, Barbara would have gone anywhere with her mom and dad if she could, she remembers all the times that she would attempt to convince her parents to let her work with them because being around them was always so much fun that she never wanted to leave their sides.
But it seems they wanted to leave her's.
The soft 'ding' of the elevator snaps Barbara out of her thoughts, the beta sniffling and wiping away tears she didn't even know were falling as she steps out into the hallway, "I didn't think this through." She sighs softly while digging her palms into her eyes and looking down at her city below, the lights are beautiful from up top and so are Gotham's structures, the building she's in adds to that beauty as it's silent...it hides the chaos she knows is going on ground level, but up here? Up here she can imagine that everything is peaceful and just as pretty as the lights make her city seem.
The more she looks down at the sight below, the more her mind is thinking of jumping down. It's truly a gorgeous sight during the night and Barbara thinks that this would be a beautiful resting place...albeit she won't look so pretty after falling down so far, but isn't that horrifically poetic in a sense? The beauty of Gotham during the night from above and the wretchedness of its citizens down below? She'd be-quite literally-jumping into the fray and adding onto the ugliness she knows to be true, but as she's falling, she can close her eyes and at least remember the beauty for just a moment before she forgets.
Plus, she isn't worried about looking unrecognizable after her fall, she imagines that's how her parents looked after crashing: deformed and bent up in all kinds of different ways. She couldn't even get one last look at the two at the funeral, her dad apparently was going so fast that when they crashed it was so bad it changed the way they appeared, her uncle told her they were both found unbuckled at the crash scene.
Barbara touches the coolness of the window and wonders if her features will look just as distorted as her parents?
The beta already feels slightly off-kilter, it's been this way since her father and mother's passing. She can't think right, can't sleep right, can't interact with people normally like she used to because she feels so angry; she sometimes feels like she can't eat right, one second her appetite is here and the next it's gone, she can't smile like she used to before-and she can cry, but that doesn't even feel normal anymore despite how much she's been doing it.
Blue eyes look up at the sky, where Barbara can only hope her parents are, thinking that if this sight is what they see everyday...then she wants to join them up above too. 
Pushing away from the window, Barbara makes her decision to jump, her stomach fluttering at the decision as she looks for roof access–she knows that there has to be a stairwell up here that leads to it somewhere or some form of a utility room with a roof panel. It takes only a few minutes of walking down the hallway until the girl finds a stairwell that leads to the roof, her heart racing in excitement as she turns the handle only to be denied access...of course there's a key for the stupid thing, probably for maintenance or the people that actually work here to have access to–"Damn it!" Barbara punches the metal door and goes back to the window she was looking out of, her eyes burning from the tears pricking at them, she never gets what she wants.
All she asked for was her parents to stay with her forever and that was denied, she wanted the truth and all she got was a lie, she wants to be happy and all she ever gets is sadness; and now that she wants to die-what-life wants her to live?
Anger courses through the beta as she starts pounding on the glass, ignoring the pain in her fists as they bounce off the reinforced material, "Come on! C-Come on!" Her punches get more frantic and sloppy as the window denies her access, a loud cry escaping her as her knees give out and she crumbles to the floor in a shivering heap of despair, sniffling and squeaking pitifully in a way she would if her parents were still alive.
Barbara keeps squeaking and calling out for people who no longer exist, so imagine her surprise at the warmth that encompasses her as she cries, the slight scent of vanilla surprising her...that's not what either of her parents smelled like.
"M-Mom?" The teen looks up and feels her heart stop for just a moment when looking into white lenses, "Y-You're..."
Batman instinctively tucks the pup closer into him when seeing her puffy eyes and snotty nose, lifting up his cape to gently wipe up the sticky substance, "Batman. Jim told me you were missing, are you hurt anywhere?"
Barbara's scent sours slightly at hearing her uncle's name, "I'm–fine. Go tell him that I'm okay."
The young teen does her best not to squirm uncomfortably at the look Batman gives her, a soft sigh escaping the man as he wraps his cape around the girl's shoulders. "Are you sure? I think I saw someone who is in a lot of pain trying to escape it in anyway that she knew how."
Barbara flinches at the fact that Batman caught her trying to...to...you know? Her eyes watering again at the reminder of her failure, "I-I...couldn't-" she whispers pitifully and sniffles-"H-How did you find me?" She looks up at the man curiously, gasping in shock as there's a tap on the window at the exact same time the older says, "Because I'm Batman."
Superman smiles kindly and waves, his smile growing at Batman's displeased grumble, "I thought I told you to head home already? I have things under control here." The Kryptonian just replies with a shake to his head before disappearing for only a second before he's suddenly standing next to the vigilante. "I had to stay! I wasn't sure if she was going to manage breaking the window, and Robin has got it covered below, he's-" Batman suddenly turns to growl at the super, his eyes narrowing behind the mask, "You left him by himself?!"
Superman raises his hands into the air and steps away just the tiniest bit, "I-he's perfectly fine! I wouldn't have left him alone if I wasn't sure he'd be okay. And he insisted that I be with you instead."
Barbara makes a surprised noise at Batman's hands tightening slightly on her shoulders when Superman smiles at him, her eyes watching as the man's jaw clenches and unclenches–is he mad? She opens up her mouth to apologize for being such a burden, but she finds herself pausing at the slight, momentary, uptick of the man's heartbeat before it settles back to a normal pace. "Stop smiling, it's disgusting as well as unnecessary. And there's a lot of things you don't know about Gotham if you think leaving a pup alone in the open here is the right thing to do." Barbara sniffles and glances up at Superman to gauge his reaction, trying not to laugh at the kicked puppy look he has on his face, his dark eyes widening at the reprimand.
"But-"
Batman snuggles Barbara closer to him and growls once more at the Kryptonian, "You left my pup out in the open. Superman, I swear if you don't get your ass back to him-" he pauses at the taller disappearing suddenly, a displeased rumble escaping his throat-"I hate it when he does that."
Barbara looks up at the Bat curiously, it didn't seem like he hated anything Superman was doing...if anything, to her it looked like Batman was touched-maybe even flustered-by everything the alien was doing for him, except leaving Robin alone that is. Now that she's had time to relax and breathe, Barbara feels-I don't know-silly? Shameful? For trying to jump out a window. Especially being caught by two of the most well-known heroes when trying to break reinforced glass, she can't imagine how pathetic she must have loo-
The beta stiffens up in surprise when she's pulled closer into Batman's side. A part of her wants to struggles against it, kicking and crying and screaming about how she doesn't deserve comfort for being so troublesome to everyone...but then again, that cold and lonely side is begging her to just let it happen, that she's been through a lot emotionally and mentally, that maybe receiving some comfort isn't as bad as that other self-destructive side makes it seem.
"W-What are you doing?"
Batman looks down at the stunned pup, holding back a satisfied purr at the child quickly loosening up in his hold. "Hugging you...do you...not know what that is?"
Barbara shakes her head quickly when hearing the concern in the alpha's (that's what the news says anyway) tone, "Of course I know what hugs are-" she sighs at the warmth radiating from the taller, how can someone wearing protective armor be so comfortable?-"But...why are you hugging me? Don't you have people to go save?" Batman frowns at the words and hums thoughtfully while carefully tucking a stray hair behind the pup's ear, "Last time I checked you are a people too, pup. And I always have time for people." Barbara can feel her eyes watering yet again, but this time from the gentleness in Batman's voice, at the concern for a complete stranger—from the realization of everything if she's honest with herself—she feels greedy; selfish, when thinking about how quick she was to choose to leave her Uncle Jim behind in the same exact way her parents passed away. She shakes her head and whimpers sadly, crying harder at the concerned noise the vigilante makes when doing so, "I-I don't deserve any of t-this. I'm s-selfish a-and greedy and s-self-absorbed!"
Batman stays silent, giving Barbara the time to explain herself. 
"M-My parents died a c-couple years a-ago-" strong hands softly squeeze her shoulders in apology, and to let the pup know he's listening-"A car accident. A d-drunk driver crashing into my parents car is what the reports said...or that's what I thought at the time at least." Barbara inhales shakily and tries to press herself closer into Batman's chest, desperate to feel more of the warmth coming from him, "B-But they actually died by suicide. A-And I-" her voice cracks-"I just found out that truth today and it f-felt like too much after e-everything I've already been struggling with. A-And so I came here to just sit on the roof-that's what I told myself at least-but I started thinking that maybe I'm better off dead and that this would be a great place to die."
The young teen pulls away slightly so she can look up at Batman. "But I didn't think a-about my Uncle Jim...he has done everything for me ever since they died, a-and because I was too busy being angry at him, I was about to hurt him worse by dying just like my parents d-did."
Barbara bows her head and whispers, "I'm so sorry. I-I'm scared a-and I don't wanna die, p-please...help me?."
Batman whines slightly at the distress in the other's tone, hugging her tightly to his chest and rocking the now trembling pup as he shushes her gently, biting off his right glove so he can card his fingers through her hair. "You don't need to apologize for hurting, do you hear me? I'm sorry to hear about everything that happened...your Uncle Jim told me the truth about what he did and you'd be surprised at how sorry he is too-" he pulls away to gently tilt the pup's face up, purring comfortingly when seeing the puffy eyes and tear stained face-"I...my parents died too. Someone shot them in an alleyway right in front of my eyes."
Barbara's eyes widen, her mild scent escaping her in an attempts at comforting the other.
"I...I put my caretaker through a lot of hell the older I got because I felt strongly just as you did. And...it has taken me a long time to forgive myself for those things I said or did to him during my grieving process-but, he told me I was still young, and sometimes it can be harder for someone younger to sort through those feelings no matter how ugly they appear. Barbara, Jim doesn't hold your feelings against you, do you know that?" Batman softens at the girl's disbelieving look, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear as he whispers, "But...maybe you hold your own feelings against you."
Barbara gasps softly and bites her lip while nodding slowly, rushing forward and hugging onto Batman with a loud cry, squeezing on tighter when the man cradles her head gently in his right hand while his left holds her back firmly.
The noise the vigilante lets out in response to her puppy crying is surprising, because it's not the sound of an alpha comforting a pup, but a very omegan one. "Y-Your a-" Batman pulls away and smiles down at the girl, bringing a finger to his lips, "Omega. Not even your Uncle Jim knows, so I'd appreciate it if you could help me keep this secret?" Barbara's hands tighten on the omega's cape, her heart racing at the kind smile the man gives her and how he's trusting her with such sensitive information. "O-Of course!"
"And Barbara-" the girl makes a confused noise as her head is gently turned towards the window, cringing at her appearance before she looks at the Bat through the reflection-"Sometimes one of the people or things you live hardest for is right in front you the whole time. Everything is going to work out just fine and I'll make sure you get the help you need, if you really want it?"
Barbara looks at herself through the window, taking in the bloodshot eyes and red nose...she looks-in her eyes-absolutely disgusting, a hot mess if you will. But...she also looks so incredibly alive and real, and at least for right now, that's exciting and something that causes her heart to beat faster and her stomach to flutter excitedly about.
Maybe...maybe her life is now truly beginning? Barbara sniffles and gives a small-but sincere-wobbly smile, "I want it. I want to live."
Batman nods and stands up with the girl tucked into his side, his eyes drifting down  as he realizes Barbara's hands are hurt, "I'm glad. Now let's go get you back to Jim and get your hands clean, he's worried about you."
————°————
It was like that moment breathed a newfound determination in Barbara that she never felt or knew she had before. She recalls quickly becoming just a tad bit obsessed with finding Batman again to thank him for everything he's done for her and Jim on that day, but she never had enough courage to follow him around again until the age of sixteen when she found life to be a bit more brighter.
Anyway, now she's twenty something and a crime fighter. It's kind of crazy how the man she ended up looking up to is the same one she's fighting alongside now, and even funnier is the fact that the boy she met in the restaurant is now her closest friend and brother.
And being a crime fighter for a couple years now has done wonders for her, she's even learned to read people better than before, though not as well as one of Bruce's newest daughters; Cassandra. That girl is actually kind of scary with how well she seems to know everything before it happens, sometimes her and Richard still think Cass is a metahuman and just says she's not-but anyway. Barbara isn't the only girl now-which is a relief honestly-she has two new little sisters now (yes, two) because Bruce took in another feisty one named Stephanie, the blonde is definitely a spitfire, always ready to knock some heads together and prove her worth.
Both her and Cass are always quick to jump into action and prove their value...which necessarily isn't a bad thing, but Barbara knows what it's like to feel lost, so she knows exactly how people can behave when they feel confused or don't know their own worth and roles in life or a family.
Which brings the beta to how concerned she is about her sisters. The two have been thick as thieves ever since being introduced to each other: always cuddling up together, sharing each others things, whispering to one another (or in Cass's case; signing)-and did Barbara mention whispering to each other? The willingness to do the job is admirable, truly it is, but the beta often finds herself worrying at the ways the two girls go about it...they almost seem desperate to show they are deserving of having a place in the family, desperate enough to do almost anything to prove that fact.
Which is exactly why Barbara is so afraid for them.
They don't need to prove anything to the family-to Bruce mainly, especially since the older knows that's who they are going out of their way for. And she gets it, Barbara would be a liar if she said that she didn't, sometimes she still has moments of insufficiency and self doubt that rise within her and cause her to act out sometimes.
But...
If anything Bruce has showed her ever since taking her into the pack as one of his own, it's that there is absolutely nothing in this world that would stop him from loving her, from loving any of his pups really. And that's the second reason Barbara finds herself concerned over her sisters; the fact that neither Stephanie or Cass have realized that Bruce just loves them for who they are and not who they think they-or anyone else-thinks they should be.
Which is how Barbara finds herself following the two teens out of Gotham's borders and into Metropolis, her anxiousness mixing in with curiosity as to why the two are traveling all the way into Superman's territory, they aren't planning on taking the man down to prove their strength...are they?
"You should have notified mom immediately instead of doing this yourself." Barbara mutters to herself and quickly glances down at the touchscreen on her bike showing the trackers she hacked back into on the girls bikes, holding back a very audible groan as the two red dots finally stop near...an... abandoned Lex Corp research facility? Barbara taps on the screen to make sure it didn't glitch, why did Steph and Cass come all the way out here for this specific building? In all her research on this one facility, it's the...least dangerous of Lex's buildings (when it was operating that is), all his staff seemed to focus on is regular science research and lab testings, nothing out of the ordinary there. 
But who is she kidding? It's Lex-freaking-Luthor, there's most definitely something going on.
"You could have just asked to come along, y'know?" 
Barbara tenses for just a second before relaxing with a soft sigh, taking her helmet off to face an amused looking Stephanie, "I know...but it doesn't seem like either of us should be here in the first place-" her eyes drift over to where Cass stands, raising a brow at the two-"Speaking of, I'm guessing this is exactly what you two have been whispering to each other about the past few weeks now? Tell me girls, why are we here?"
Stephanie bristles at the woman's tone, her shoulders tensing as if prepared to fight, "You aren't planning on telling ma...are you?"
Before the older can reassure Stephanie that she could have already informed Bruce of what is transpiring right now (but didn't) is interrupted by Cass stepping forward with a hand on Stephanie's elbow to calm her, a soft sigh escaping the shorter girl. "She could have already told mama already, but she didn't Steph, I think she wants to know what's happening before thinking of saying anything-" she pauses her signing to move one hand in a 'gimme' gesture before continuing with a victorious smirk-"And I told you the plan would work! Barbara followed us just as planned. So I expect my money later."
Barbara keeps her eyes on the girl's hands, her face morphing to one of confusion and disbelief at the word 'plan' being used.
"Wait, wait, wait! You mean, this whole time, you both were being so obvious just so I would notice you both?" The beta looks back and forth between the teens and sighs softly at seeing the matching looks of humor they both wear, "What exactly is going on here and why are we at Lex's researching facility? That, might I remind you, is abandoned." Steph-at Cassandra's prodding-concedes to the poking of her side and explains what's happening, "We can all agree Lex Luthor is an extremely stupid man, right?" That's...not what Barbara expected, but she can work with that, "Uh—I guess so? It depends on the when, where and why I guess. Why's that matter?"
Stephanie crosses her arms, "It matters because of what you just said: 'it depends on the when, where and why.' We know he's super smart-"
Cass signs, "Except for when he's being super stupid."
"Yeah, except for when he's being stupid. But today is one of those days he's being really smart...so smart to the point where he's done something potentially reeeeeally stupid." Stephanie reaches into a bag she brought along and pulls out a red folder, "Do you know what this is-" she pauses at the troubled look on Barbara's face and nods-"Ooookay, seems like you know exactly what this is-what?"
The older rubs her eyes with her hands and groans, "You took one of mom's important folders? You know he doesn't like us touching his stuff, but especially his folders-"
Cass tries to hold back an amused smirk, "Especially Stephanie...last time she tried to color code them with style, remember?" The blonde huffs and rolls her eyes, pursing her lips in displeasure at the memory of being scruffed and scolded, "It's not my fault mom chooses boring colors to keep his papers in. I still think spray paint was a wonderful idea to color code them with." Barbara can't help but to smirk at the memory, "You're almost as bad as Richard...he keeps adding stickers and glitter to B's stuff-wait! It's not about those things right now you two. You know we aren't supposed to touch mom's things, but especially the color coded file folders-" she narrows her eyes disapprovingly at Stephanie whispering about how the colored folders was done because of her...which is true (because she wouldn't stop spray painting the cream colored material), but that isn't the point right now. "That isn't the point, Stephanie, you aren't supposed to have your hand on these-wait..."
Cass and Steph look at each other curiously before turning back to Barbara.
"How–did you even get your hands on this?! Bruce is always careful of his things and I'm pretty sure he has every document and copy of said document numbered and remembered."
The two puff up their chests and smile proudly, "We distracted mama and made copies of the file. Which isn't too hard to do considering how much he loves us, but it was hard getting everything back in place the way he had it." Cassandra signs and gestures to the red folder, "But the contents of said document are exactly why we needed you to follow us. We assumed you were the safest bet as there's some sister solidarity going on here between the three of us, we could have brought Timmy along...but he would have felt too guilty keeping a secret from mama and told on us, so, here you are."
Steph nods towards the folder, "You know that very urgent matter that ma and Superman have been slipping away for? Apparently it's because a little birdie in the villain community let it slip during a fight with Metropolises sunshine child that Lex Luthor has been working on a clone of the Kryptonian." Barbara's eyes widen, and despite her inner voice telling her to just call Bruce instead, she opens up the folder and looks over the papers, her eyes skimming them to see if anything hops out at her. "Wait, it says here that Lex has been working on this clone for at least more than at least ten years now..."
Steph nods, "Which means that he's had plenty of time at perfecting this. We know he's attempted cloning or even crossbreed projects before, but working with alien DNA is a completely different thing, so I wouldn't be surprised if it took him even longer than usual to figure things out."
Barbara rubs at her temple, realizing just exactly what her little sister meant at the beginning with her question about Lex Luthor, "He's being so incredibly smart right now. Wasn't this same exact building the one where he first used Kryptonite on Superman? One of B's files reports that Lex drew blood from him after taking a chance on his theory that Kryptonite was a weakness, a theory that paid off well as it turned out to be true, he lured Superman to this facility not just to test a theory out...but I think it was to get some of his DNA if he happened to be right."
Cass smiles at Barbara, "Seems we aren't the only one who reads the files, but yes, he lured him out here for those exact reasons. Luthor wouldn't have made such a bold move if he didn't think he would win or have a backup plan, pretty sure in my research one of the materials used in this building was lead, which Luthor knew Superman couldn't see through at that point. Pretty sure egghead had an escape plan if things went south."
Barbara's eyes widen at the implication, "You two think that he built escape routes throughout the building? It would make sense, it's not like Superman could see Luthor escaping or even if there are layers to the structure."
Stephanie nods in agreement, "It's also suspicious how not too long later they 'shut down' the building. We think it's been a cover this whole time and there's something going on underground that Superman doesn't know about. I mean, the man would still have been fairly new-I think-to this superhero business at the time, so after the fight and Luthor going so far as to demolish the building to the point of rubble he would have found no reason to be suspicious of anything...at least not enough to come back here and check on things. Plus, we know how forgetful Superman can get sometimes...he doesn't take into account certain things that we as humans would, so he probably paid no mind to the fact his DNA was left anywhere during the stabbing."
Barbara sighs, "He would have been too focused on the fact he was able to get stabbed in the first place."
Everyone remains silent for a few minutes to process everything before Cass steps forward with a hopeful look in her big brown eyes, "So can we count on you to help us? You-besides Timmy-are one of the most tech savvy out of everyone, we are pretty sure there must be cameras or some sort of electrical output somewhere for you to get a signal or something from. Please? Mama and Mr. Kent have been working hard to track this clone down, we could help a lot here and show him we can achieve more."
Barbara looks up, prepared to say no to offering them help...but the adorable brown and pretty pale green eyes that look desperately at her for help is-in all honesty-all too familiar to the beta, enough to give her pause.
"I...we should really call mom."
Stephanie and Cass look at each other before each taking a place at Barbara's side and hugging onto the woman, nuzzling into her neck as they stare imploringly up at her. "Pretty pleeeeease?"
Barbara feels her resolve crumbling under the pouty lips, soft pup-like squeaks and the big eyes the two girls give her, realizing that this is exactly how Bruce must feel whenever he looks at his children.
————°————
Usually days aren't this nice for Bruce (besides seeing his babies of course), usually there's always something or another to be concerned about, but surprisingly enough, the omega was able to...relax?...in some way today. If you call him trying not to die constantly from heart failure as relaxing, then yes, he's enjoying himself immensely.
Despite the cause for his impending heart failure being right in front of him.
Bruce feels his nose twitching not in the attempts of getting a whiff of Clark's scent nervously as he sits on Clark's slightly worn couch, why is he here in the man's apartment? Hell, why is he even here in Metropolis?
"Bruce, do you not find the snacks pleasing to your tastes?"
The omega snaps out of his increasingly disturbing thoughts of anger as to why he can't properly smell the alpha around his own den, blinking away the far away look in his eyes and paying attention to the alpha's now worried look, why does he look that way? He shouldn't. "The snacks? Oh, yes, thank you for the snacks Clark-" he takes a delicate bite of the pastry the other handed to him, surprised at how it's flavored in the exact way he desires his sweets to be-"this tastes delicious, really, where did you get these from? Maybe I can bring some back to my pups."
Clark feels his heart flutter at the words, knowing he's failing at hiding his pleased smile as Bruce squints at him as though he can physically see light radiating off him.
"I made them!" Oops! Too excited, "I mean...I made them myself. You don't seem like someone who would just eat any kind of food given to you, a-and I know how much you enjoy this pastry as I smelled it on your breath the last time I ran into you and I knew it must have been homemade as the last time you got this snack it was from a bakery and you didn't like it."
Clark feels like he was rushing his sentence, each word running into the other as his nervousness grew at him exposing himself. What if Bruce thinks he has horrible breath because of what he said?
Bruce stares at the alpha in bafflement, doing his best to avoid smelling his own breath to be sure it doesn't smell so strongly...when he wanted Clark to notice his smell, that isn't what he meant. "O-Oh? Does my breath usually smell so strongly? I apologize for...um...assaulting your senses like that, Clark. But, you were right, Alfred made these for me last time I ate them...I prefer a lot of homemade foods and snacks, I–guess I'm a little too picky in that way."
Is...that insecurity in Bruce's tone?
Clark feels his alpha grumbling in displeasure at the omega looking away for a split second, in Bruce speak, that means he's sorry–and he has no reason to be sorry.
'You smell amazing: your scent, your breath, your hair–your everything really. And I wouldn't mind scenting you everyday for the rest of our lives, because that's how good you smell.' Is what Clark wants to actually say...but he's an unmated alpha with an unmated omega—alone—in his apartment together, he can't say that to the other without seeming like a creep. "You don't smell strongly-" Clark swallows nervously as Bruce makes eye contact with him-"You smell really...sweet and soft in the best of ways, so no worries. I should apologize for startling you in that way...I just—it's easy to use my senses for certain things and...I just like making others happy, so I smelled the ingredients of what you ate last time and remembered so I could make something you'd enjoy."
The alpha gives a sweet smile to Bruce, "And you shouldn't worry for being 'too picky'. It's not your fault that you have standards for yourself, even if it's just with food. I, for one, don't think you could ever be too choosey."
'I would feed you whatever you wish for the rest of our days', is something Clark has to beat down with a metaphorical stick as he almost says it. However, the pink tinge to Bruce's cheeks cause the man's nostrils to flair with barely concealed excitement as the omega's scent slips through the patches on his neck the tiniest bit–and what a scent it is–it smells like a warm and slightly spicy dessert...aaaaand it immediately worries Clark because of how much it makes him want to bite the other.
"Thank you, Clark-" Bruce's hand unconsciously raises to play with the back of his hair as he takes another bite of Clark's handmade pastry just for him, his eyelashes fluttering as he holds eye contact with the alpha while biting down, unaware to the affect he's having on the other-"It...amazes me how considerate you can be towards others. It's kind of disgusting-"
'That's why I love you so much,' is not something Bruce can really say to Clark, especially not when the other could have someone so much...better.
The slightly defeated noise coming from across him causes Bruce to refocus on Clark, the omega panicking internally at the-in all honesty-crushed look the other wears, why does he look so-"You think I'm disgusting?"  The alpha and omega blink at each other awkwardly for a few tense minutes, Bruce processing what the other means and almost choking on his dessert as he rushes to explain, "No-" curse his inherent reactions of mild to severe disgust in the face of people being genuinely kind-"It's not you, Clark, it's me...really. I'm...I'm from Gotham."
Bruce trails off awkwardly, trying not to scream at the flimsy excuse, his inner omega practically howling at how any future attempts of romance is off the table. The cards are no longer where they lie because Bruce-in his infinite lack of proper emotional skills (at least towards adult humans-I mean, aliens)-flipped the table when peeking at the hand he was dealt, abruptly ending the game. Thankfully, Clark just laughs, the sound causing Bruce's ears to tingle and his belly to grow warm and the omega's lips to unwillingly turn up into a genuine smile. "Well...I don't think that I can argue with you there exactly, guess it's an instinctive reaction to kindness? Um...though I think you are very kind yourself despite everything."
Bruce feels like his heart is actively in the process of failing, pretty sure he's dying right now with the way he has to hold back the severe pounding of it, his body can't decide whether to continue pumping blood to his heart or his face.
Still, he feels like he should try explaining what he actually meant. "I meant disgusting in a good way, j-just-" dang it! Stop the stuttering-"so you know? It's like cute aggression but when I see anyone who's just...genuine, I want to call them disgusting because I have no other words for them." That was singlehandedly one of the dumbest answers Bruce feels he ever gave to someone, maybe he got it all wrong before? He's actually trying to kill himself with the embarrassing crap spouting from his own mouth.
Clark sits up a little straighter in his seat, "Oh? You...think I'm cute?"
Bruce scrunches his nose up, "No, children and babies are cute. Animals are cute. Even old people are cute-" his omega practically claws at his mind at the alpha's shoulders slumping slightly-"U-Uh, not saying that your face isn't-"
He feels his face growing even warmer at the intense look the alpha gives him suddenly.
"I mean it's not-not cute–I mean, you aren't cute! No, what I'm saying is that you look hot, sexy, drop dead gorgeous, like a god in the flesh, sex on legs han-" Bruce bites his tongue when Clark leans forward a little as if a spell has been cast on him to listen to whatever it is that the omega says, his eyes sparkling with something Bruce is too distracted to put a name to, "I-I think you look appropriate." He feels like screaming at the way Clark just stares at him...he doesn't know if he wants to burrow himself away in his nest forever or dive-bomb out of the window? But, his inner omega is practically preening at the attention the alpha is giving him.
Clark holds Bruce's gaze, his alpha sticking its metaphorical chest out at how pink the other looks...like a perfectly ripe strawberry, good enough to sink his teeth into.
Just one taste.
One taste wouldn't hurt, right? Sink his teeth gently into Bruce's cheek just to feel the flesh give under the pressure?
Yeah, just one. Little. Ta-
"Clark?" Bruce's soft voice pulls the alpha out of his trance, the Kryptonian cursing himself internally for almost letting his fangs grow longer...pretty sure they almost were dripping with the amount of saliva built up in his mouth.
The alpha blinks away his intrusive thoughts, embarrassed to realize he was starting to crawl on his very unstable coffee table (that Bruce has been trying to convince him to get rid of for awhile now), clearing his throat and acting like he's dusting something off of the surface. "T-There was something right there on the table that you definitely couldn't see because I have super vision and you don't."
Bruce furrows his brow at the statement, he hates being reminded that he doesn't have powers, "I know that you do. No need to rub it in, Clark."
The alpha winces at his poor choice of words, he was just rushing to get something out of his mouth to explain his creepy behavior. "That's not what I meant to say, B, you know I didn't." He watches as the omega moodily bites at the rest of his pastry, his voice softly rumbling in satisfaction when the other grows disappointed when his next bite is full of air and he notices the pastry is gone, "Would you like ano-"
"Yes. Now."
Clark wants to feel irritated at the interruption...they've been over Bruce's demanding attitude before, but the need to provide for his the omega overrides the need to tell the shorter to say 'please'. "Okay, okay. How many?"
Bruce hands the alpha his plate, "All of them?"
The taller laughs at the question in the other's tone, "You don't sound so sure about that. Plus, I thought you wanted to take some home to the pups?" Bruce relaxes back into his seat, purring softly in happiness at how the other remembered, "I was just testing you to see if you remembered me saying that. I do want to take some home to them, unless you were planning to eat the rest?"
Bruce can't see Clark's reaction to his purr as he's facing away from the kitchen, but the alpha is losing it, softly banging his head against his fridge at the happy little noise.
"No. I wasn't planning on eating any of this, it was all for you anyway."
All for him? That sounds satisfactory to Bruce's ears, he sighs softly and looks up at the ceiling to try and remember why he came down here in the first place, his memory is never this bad...but Clark has the special ability to make him feel stupid and clueless to everything.
'Beep' 'Beep'
Scratch that. One of his kids is calling him, he can't remain stupid or clueless.
Bruce tries not to jump to the worse case scenario as he clicks on the comm in his ear, "Batman–"
"Mom-ah!" Barbara gasps as she's thrown into a wall, "We aren't here to hurt you–Spoiler, get down! We need you to come–" her earpiece makes a static noise as a series of loud bangs are heard, the sound of Barbara screaming for Spoiler causing Bruce's heart to stop before she's heard grunting, maybe throwing something? "Barbara, sweetheart? What's going on?!" He stands up from Clark's couch, rushing over to the window in the attempts to climb out of it, key word: attempt, as a hand gently rests itself on the small of his back.
"Are you really about to jump out of a window? Let me fly you."
Bruce opens his mouth to argue, but the sound of Stephanie's strained voice in his ear makes him forgo it, "M-Ma...we need you and Superman down here–to the right, Barb! We kind of ran into a situation-ugh!"
By the time Bruce looks over at Clark, the man is dressed in Superman regalia, the omega tugging on the other's cape insistently as the alpha gets the idea and lifts the shorter into his arms. "We'll be right there! Clark, I have a suit hidden somewhere not too far from here-" at the Kryptonian's curious looks, Bruce sighs softly-"it was an abandoned building, Superman, it's perfect for a hiding spot." He clicks at his earpiece again, "Spoiler, what's the situation you're dealing with? Is it a code Arkm-23a?"
The two adults wait in a tense silence before Spoiler speaks up, her tone soft and guilt ridden, "Um...the situation isn't in Gotham, mama. Try: code 2813-Krypto-SP #56C." A quiet curse escapes Superman, which is how Bruce knows the situation is serious, and suddenly he's reminded as to why he came down to Clark's apartment in the first place, his voice a distressed growl as he finally responds to his daughter.
"You found Superman's clone?!"
————°————
Spoiler wipes at her bloody nose, her vision blurry as she tries to shake off the pain, the sound of her mom screaming in her ear doesn't help the concussion she's probably gotten from Clark's insane clone, "H-How many times do we have to tell you that we aren't here to hurt you, #56C? We just wanted to find you." The teen curses as she barely manages to stumble away from the other throwing a chunk of metal at her...it's a great thing Barbara turned off the security cameras and alarm systems, or else they'd have a lot more trouble with security trying to rush in.
The clone growls at her, "Where's Superman!?"
Spoiler tenses in caution at the experiment rushing towards her...to be honest, this plan isn't going as planned, they only expected to find a blob of something or an unfinished project, not a fully developed teenager with severe anger issues. They didn't even bring Kryptonite, which was actually a very dumb decision the blonde admits was probably her oversight, "He's coming! We promise, okay! Can you just calm down for one-" It seems as if everything is moving in slow motion as Spoiler watches Black Bat descend from the ceiling like a bat out of hell, her legs wrapping around the clones head as she uses the force of her body to drag the boy to the floor with her, the small hands moving in a series of strikes as she attempts to see if pressure points work. Stephanie realizes that the younger is testing for any weak points, someone has to do it she supposes? But the blonde alpha finds herself worrying as the clone easily grips her sister's wrists in his hands and easily extracts the girls hands off of his body, the boy grunting as he slams the Asian girl harshly back into the floor.
Black Bat winces as the taller rests his weight on her smaller body–he's surprisingly heavier than he looks–her hands twisting in a test of the grip he has on her while her lips pull down to a frown at not even budging. "How do you know Superman?!" 
The creaking of metal is heard before the roof caves in to reveal Superman and Batman, the alpha's nostrils flaring at the familiar scent in the air...it's definitely his alright, but there's also something not his about it, it's weird and causes the man to release his own scent in retaliation to the clones domineering one. "Because I'm a close friend. That's how they know me." The clone throws Black Bat into a wall, his eyes narrowing at Superman as he leaps up to the man, throwing a harsh jaw punch as the Kryptonian crashes through a couple walls and away from the rest of the group.
Batman frowns worriedly as he rushes to Black Bat's side, his hands quickly fluttering around the teen as he checks for any injuries, "What in the world were you girls even thinking?! Do you know how dangerous this was to come here alone?"
The teen frowns at how her mama is displeased, lifting her hands to quickly sign an explanation, "We just wanted to help you and Superman...we know how busy you've been and thought that we could do it together." The omega stands up with his daughter, attention shifting to Spoiler as the girl wobbles in place, a worried sound escaping him at the sight of his pup with a bloody nose, "You girls help me everyday, what do you mean? Spoiler, baby, can you hear me? See me properly? You can barely stand, puppy."
The blonde stumbles into her mom's arms, taking a deep breath in to avoid puking as the world spins, "F-Fine. S'my fault, ma...I forgot...the-the Kryptonite."
Batman frowns at the slight slur to the blondes words and her slow pace, his instincts flaring to check on her but also not to as this isn't a safe place to do so, especially not when he can hear a fight going on a couple rooms over. "This isn't any one person's fault, sweetie, where's Oracle at?" A tug on his cape causes Batman to turn towards Black Bat, following where the girl's pointing to and whining at seeing the woman holding her arm to her chest, lip busted as she types something into the computers.
Batman frowns worriedly at the sight of his eldest girl and leads his youngest two over to her, his hands reach out to the woman as he turns her around, "Are you okay?"
The younger takes a moment to realize who's touching her before she nods slowly, her gaze lowering to the floor in shame at what she allowed to happen. "I'm fine, mom...I'm so sorry, I k-knew I should have called you. I was stupid not to-" she's interrupted by Batman tugging her and her sisters in for a careful hug, his voice a soothing rumble as he comforts his pups, "But you did contact me. You and your sisters ended up doing the right thing, baby, but we need to get you three out of here...I'm pretty sure Spoiler has a concussion and it's not safe." He stops as the eldest girl doesn't let him lead them back up top, the beta shaking her head with a frown on her face.
"W-Wait! You need to see something. The only reason why the clone is so angry is because he's been brainwashed to hate Superman...apparently they would torture experiment #56C and then make him think it was Superman that hurt him so badly. Lex made sure that hate would be the only thing in his clones mind when thinking of the Kryptonian."
Batman pauses, growling protectively when a loud noise is heard behind them from Superman and his clone fighting, holding Spoiler and Black Bat to his side while he keeps his eyes on Oracle.
The ginger types in something to the computer, clicking on a file she knows that Batman has never seen before, her eyes trained on the omega's reaction as he quickly scans through the notes on #56C–"I know, right?" The beta whispers in disbelief as the omega gasps softly in shock, holding her little sisters tightly in her arms as Batman hands them off to her and runs through the hole in the wall and towards the fight.
Oracle turns to look at the digitally highlighted words that caught her mom's attention, unable to stop her soft chuckle as she cuddles into her sisters. "I think we'll be leaving here with a new brother, girls."
XXX
Batman grapples down a hole in the floor, his heart racing as he gets closer to Superman...and their son, his nose stinging at the strong scent of two angry alphas in a heated battle. "Superman!" The alpha immediately turns to look at the Bat, leaving an opening for the younger half-Kryptonian to place a mean roundhouse kick to the older man's face, the teens attention diverting to the man dressed in black.
"Who are you? Are you with Superman?"
Batman feels horrible for the way a part of him trembles excitedly at the teen asking that question, even when he knows the boy doesn't mean 'being with Superman' in a romantic context.
The omega clears his throat softly and stands tall, nose lifted high as he nods, "Yes, I'm Batman. We work toge-hk!" Hands suddenly squeeze at Batman's throat, the vigilante remaining calm as he looks at his pup, not one that's been adopted (though of course that doesn't make them any less his kids because of that fact), but it's...shocking to see something that is–technically–biologically his and Clark's.
.
..
...
....
Oh. My. Gosh!
Him and Superman have a kid together?!
Batman takes a close look at his pup's face closely despite the hands tightening on his neck, his gaze softening under his lenses when seeing the heterochromatic eyes; the left Clark's deep, midnight sky blue and the right his own icy blue color. The omega tries opening his mouth to speak, a wheeze escaping him instead of words, "W—hat's...yo–ur...n–name?"
The clone narrows his eyes at the man, "#56C."
Batman gasps for air, his hands finally reaching up to grab at the boy's wrists now that his airways are officially constricted, "N–o...h'w...a—bout..."
#56C hisses in pain as a large hand wraps around his wrist tight enough to cause him to drop Batman, grunting as he's thrown harshly into the wall and pinned to it by his neck, his breath hitching at the memories of Superman doing that same exact thing to him everyday before Luthor saves him. "Get your hands off of him." The boy's eyes flutter as he claws at the older man's arm to try and break free, trying to push down the fear at being faced with his biggest enemy, Luthor has warned him against feeling fear...it does him no good in battle.
Batman coughs loudly, hand on his quickly bruising throat as he pushes himself up and off the ground, feeling defensive at the sight of Superman manhandling their child.
"Superman, you're scaring him." His nose twitches at the sour scent of fear mingling in with the older alpha's anger. Batman grumbles in displeasure as the stubborn alpha doesn't listen to him, placing a hand on the other's arm and tugging at it, "Let him go–" he growls low; motherly, when Superman still doesn't listen–"Now, Superman!" The protective tone seems to register in the Kryptonian's mind as he suddenly releases the pup, stepping away as he snaps back to reality, though his brows are furrowed in irritation. "Why are you being so protective of him? He was hurting you, B." The omega continues to hold onto the alpha's arm until his hand actually leaves the boy's throat, "He doesn't know any better-" his tone is gentle-"He's been brainwashed into thinking you're the enemy as well as anyone attached to you. Superman, he's just a boy."
Superman opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, defensive as his mind register's Batman's protective tone as being in favor of another alpha (even when that alpha is partly himself). "I was just trying to protect you and the girls, is that so bad? How else am I supposed to respond to a clone Lex Luthor made of me–of me, Br-Batman! This is my worst nightmare come to life. I've never wanted to give into the anger and hurt the people I've sworn to protect...especially those I love and care for most."
Batman feels himself softening at the sight of Superman's apprehension, "I know you're scared...but, did you not promise to protect the innocent? The boy didn't ask to be created by Lex Luthor of all people, and as I said before, he was brainwashed into thinking you as the enemy; the cause to all his pain and suffering, not the savior from it. Who's more innocent than a victim of a very horrible circumstance?" Batman turns his attention to the frozen boy on the floor, frowning at how intimidated the child looks curled up into the wall...he must be having some sort of flashback with the way he's staring off into space. "Can you hear me, pup? "
Superman looks down at the pup curiously, unable to shake the bitter feeling growing in him at the gentleness Batman is giving the other. However, the omega's voice speaking to him interrupts those feelings as he gives the other all his attention, "Do you feel anything when looking at him, Superman?"
Batman looks up at the alpha from where he's crouching next to the clone, his eyes carefully watching the man's face morph into a look of befuddlement, his deep blue eyes looking down at the boy curiously, "I...don't know? Maybe. There's something there that I can smell isn't just my scent...it itches my brain and I don't know why. Maybe it's Luthor's scent?"
The omega grumbles to himself watching the moment what Superman just said sinks into his own brain, the man's eyes widening dangerously big as the panic sets in.
"Stop thinking for one second you idiot-" Batman growls at the stupid alpha not understanding who exactly the boy is to him-"You are the first parent and the second one...the second one is me, that's what you're smelling. I bet that's the cause to your brain itch." Superman freezes in place as his brain tries to process the new information...#56C isn't his and Lex's child, but his and Bruce's?
That's...definitely not what he was thinking-and Oh. My. Gosh!
Him and Bruce have a kid together!?
Superman shakes his head, guilt overtaking the shock as he realizes the person he was  pummeling wasn't just him, but that it's his and Bruce's child. His alpha howling in despair at how he's already failed as a father.
Batman extends his hands towards the alpha at seeing him pull away, "Wait, Super-" a burst of air brushes the exposed parts of the vigilantes face-"man..." He sighs dejectedly at the empty space where Superman once stood, not properly able to ponder on the feeling for too long as his son makes a distressed noise. "I was scared...I'm sorry that I was scared, I know it doesn't help me. I let him escape."
Batman chirps softly towards his son, hands slowly raising to pull off his mask, immediately releasing his sweet-spicy scent to the teen. "You don't need to apologize, pup, everyone gets scared."
The boy blinks the haze out of his eyes somewhat at the scent of the omega, a low rumble escaping him as he's suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of comfort, instinctively leaning in close to the man as his nose settles against the warm neck. Why does Batman look so familiar to him? Why, why-"Mother..." #56C whispers as it clicks in his brain who the man before him is, he remembers Lex showing him pictures of Bruce Wayne and telling him that the billionaire is his mom...though nothing else was said besides that, the bald alpha always just grumbled about how stupid Bruce is and how he most likely gets people to do his work for him.
Bruce chirps in response to the name, cuddling the boy close and gently massaging his nape to calm him down, ears twitching as he's called top level by his daughters. "We'll be right up!" He tilts his head up while shouting, holding tightly onto the boy as he helps him stand and grapples up the hole in the ceiling.
The boy tenses at seeing the three girls he fought earlier still in the building, stepping in front of his mom protectively as he growls warningly at them. "Why are you still here? Aren't you with Superman?" A gentle hand resting itself on #56C's shoulder causes his stance to relax slightly, Bruce's smooth voice purring reassuringly in his ear, "It's okay, pup, they know Superman but are with me. These are your new sisters–something we can talk about later–right now, I want to ask you if there's another name I can call you?"
The teen lowers his defensive stance at the information, and the fact that the three girls all look at him warmly...why aren't they mad at him?
"No. I have no name."
Bruce frowns displeased at the fact Luthor didn't even name his kid, a thoughtful hum escaping him as he rests a hand on the boy's head. "How about...Conner? I think that name suits you, and there is always the choice for you to change it later if you don't like it."
#56C–Conner, shakes his head insistently, standing a little taller at finally receiving a proper title, "I want the name, mother. I–thanks."
The dark haired teen bristles at the giggles escaping his...sisters (he has to get used to saying that), the blonde one nodding softly with a smirk on her lips, her voice slurred slightly when speaking. "H–e's...cute. I think...I think h'll fit...in." Bruce frowns at the state the alpha is in and gently grabs her from Oracle, "We need to get you home. Oracle, did you-"
The woman nods her head, "Already called Leslie. She's on standby at the Cave." She doesn't bother mentioning that the rest of the family know that he's coming home with another kid. Bruce finds himself smiling proudly at all his kids before turning to look at Conner carefully, "Baby...would you come home with me? This place is no longer safe-" he doesn't think it ever was-"and I would like to check on everyone in a place I know won't be harmful."
Conner blinks in shock at the question...he didn't know mother wanted to take him with him...Lex never allowed trailing or following of any kind, just his obedience. 
The teen looks around the place he did grow up in thoughtfully, he has no feelings one way or another about it, it's more like a training ground than what he imagines a home (whatever that is) to be. Conner looks back at Bruce with a curious look in his eyes, "Okay. I want to know what home is supposed to be." The omega smiles happily at hearing the boy is willing to follow him, stamping down the fury towards Lex Luthor and the man's lack of proper child care, tugging his mask back on with one hand and adjusting his hold on Spoiler as he heads out the building, leaving Conner with his two sisters.
Black Bat nudges the boy with her elbow, keeping her posture loose and open despite the alpha tensing defensively at the playful gesture, a wide smile on her face and hands moving in a flurry as Conner gives her his attention. "Welcome to the family-" she opens her mouth to speak, her voice quiet with disuse-"B–roth...er." Conner suddenly feels shy at hearing the word come from his sister's mouth, nodding to the shorter while thinking that maybe his new home life won't be so bad, tilting his head curiously as the blonde sibling peeks over mother's shoulder with an impish smile to her lips. "Wait until you meet your new brothers. They're a blast."
Conner freezes at the thought of other boys sharing his mother's space, his brain only thinking of one way to respond to the older girl, "Brothers? No one said anything about brothers."
The protective tone must be obvious in his voice as the girls laugh at him, the boy not being able to focus on feeling offended by it as he's overtaken by a warm feeling at making his new family laugh.
(Notes from AO3—Some things I want to explain too right quick is, 1: Please excuse the crappy explanation as to where Conner was grown. 2: Please excuse the horribly written fight scenes 😭😭😭 and 3: Conner's experiment number is based off of the fact Krypton's sector number is 2813, while Krypto just is supposed to be referring to the fact/reminder Lex is dealing with a half-Kryptonian experiment; SP just means specimen and #56C is just the number of times Lex has tried his attempts at making a clone and C...I have nothing for that, I just thought it sounded nice 😂.
But we can say #56 is in section C of Lex's experiments, to which this Conner is the only working one.
Flimsy excuses I bet for my reasoning to everything, but please accept it (it's Christmas 😭😂). I truly hope the length of this chapter will satisfy all who have been waiting on me? You all's comments truly motivate me, and don't be afraid to tell me if you hate this chapter or it's length, I seriously won't be mad but I will appreciate all your comments 🙏🏼☺️.
Also, I hope you guys enjoyed the choice I made for the girls finding Conner? I thought about it and the thought actually wasn't forgotten so I went with it, especially as I thought it'd be nice for them to find him kind of as a little introductory to our beloved clone.
I really need to stop blabbing, but I hope everyone has enjoyed this chapter? Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛💛💛💛—End of notes from AO3.
Part 1: The Interview, Part 2: The Gala, Part 3: The Search.
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amberbalcom14 · 1 day ago
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Holy shoot, @guilty-pleasures21, Thank you! 🤗Been following this trend, & this reblog thread-line of it, for the past day or so on here and was not expecting to suddenly get the mentioned alert ping bout being tagged in this too! ✨😊 and really showing my age with the realization it's been years since i've done one of these to boot. Let's get into this then✨
Last Song: On Spotify, Annpantsu's cover of "I'm Still Standing"
Favorite Color: hmm, kinda tied between purple and green (as this reblog and my blog's main/mobile app view theme shows XD), so guess it depends on the shade of either (prefer either a lighter or darker green than this txt option & typically a darker closer to violet than the purple txt color option - which happens to also be my current hair color!)
Last Book/Fic: Been mostly doing online reading lately, but do still purchase physical versions (recently got a newly opened B&N closer to where i live that's now my new home-store that's a LOT closer than the previous one XD Hubby is already joking bout the 'wallet pain' of him coming home from work to find me with more new books XD) so physical book wise, it would have to be 'The Modern Herbal Dispensary' that i recently got form Barnes & Noble ^^ and online Fic wise, it's hands down @greensagephase/Alondra's Spiderverse 'Nonviolent Communication', full re-read after reading the newest released Chap 22 ^^ (any spiderverse fans, if ya haven't checked NC out yet, i highly recommend it ^^)
Last Movie: Transformers One
Last Show: all 3 Seasons of Marvel's 'What if' on New Years Eve since the tidbit was with my folks for the week and i was resting up from feeling sick a few days prior XD got to Season 3 at the midnight Ball drop, so it worked out pretty well on my end XD
Sweet/Spicy/Savory: hmm, this is a tough one, since it depends what type of food we're talking about. ✨desserts wise, sweet all the way. ✨snacks are mix of sweet and savory (like i prefer sweet for popcorn with kettle corn or caramel corn, but savory for stuff like crackers/pretzels like with white cheddar cheeze-its) ✨main dish wise, mix of savory or spicy, depending on the kind of dish. served in a bowl dishes for example, i lean more a mix of both as a Southerner born and raised growing up with 'southern cold weather comfort food' like Creole dishes jambalaya and red beans & rice, as well as Texas style chili (which growing up got spicier when my dad was the one to make it as us 3 siblings got a higher spice tolerance) Also for main dish wise on the other end is, savory dishes like all day slow cooker pot roasts or shepard's pie ^^ long story short - I'm a foodie, and like little bit of everything to an extent and have tried a wide variety of ethnic style food since it's unfortunately dependent on where i am/local area is mostly tex-mex with some authentic Mexican and Asian (mostly Japanese & Chinese, with one Korean grill place) restaurants in my area (stopped having spicy food during my pregnancy and now unfortunately my spice tolerance has taken a major hit and i have to work it back up to where it was back in College😭like used to be able to eat wasabi by itself and use Sriracha with not much issue)
Relationship: Happily Married 9 years with this yr/2025's Dec being the 10 yr/1st Decade mark ^^ (married wise. been together 13 yrs since Nov 2011 ^^ - and Yes I admittedly love making both my hubby and myself 'feel old' at reminding him we're already a fair bit past the decade mark technically with marriage getting close to the decade mark due to the tidbit being close to turning 10 from being born the following year XD)
Last thing I googled: legitimately full on google searched, (& not counting typing in the name of a site in the search bar to get it pulled up from being half-assed lazy or too tired to recall the actual website's spelling/type out from google being my default/home browser XD) would have to be over the weekend looking up search/location tips for the stripeshell snail from the game Palia to get help finding it to finish one of the Vault of the Waves beach bundle XD (highly recommend Palia as a fun cozy game to play ^^)
Current Obsession: oh, geeze this one is a call out XD. um, depends what you mean by obsession i guess XD. since one of my special interests is musicals (mainly broadway, specially Hamilton, Les Mes, and Wicked ),while my current hyperfixation for musicals is sorta a musical - it's the 'Epic: The Musical' concept album series by Jorge Rivera-Herrans about Homer's “Odyssey" ^^ i have been playing the Ithaca and the Troy saga albums the most for like the past month and a half, mainly the song 'Warrior of the Mind' from the Troy saga and 'The Challenge' from the Ithaca one (i can go on about how it shows the relationship of Odysseus and Penelope as one of my favorite greatest love stories told. i mean the Oddy's old bow to shoot thru the axes challenge to the suitors with the song's line 'Cause I'd rather die, Than grow old without the best of you' ?!✨🥰🤩🤌🏼) Characters/Fandom wise, i will admit that lately it's been a bit hyperfocus with Marvel mostly XD mainly Spiderverse's Miguel, X-men (nearly of the animated series and the OG cinematic verse/Earth-10005 movies line, and a fair bit of the comics verses with some exceptions) Dr. Henry 'Hank' McCoy [I'm well aware of how far off the deep end Earth-616 Krakoa era 'Beast Prime' went off his rocker out of descending into madness post legacy virus arc], MCU/TFATWS James 'Bucky' Barnes, & MCU/Comics Dr. Stephan Strange ^^
I look forward to telling you: You all have been traumatized enough this decade, you deserve a hug and happiness may the rest of this decade be far better for you than the first half.
Tags: @bluesidez, @lyrate-lifeform-approximation, @voxxgrimly, @thespider-witch, @theorphicangel
10 people I’d like to get to know better
10 people I’d like to get to know better
Since I had two separate tags in this, @spaceyjessa and @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog I decided I would make a separate post.
Last song:  with lyrics: Beautiful Boy by The Last Dinner Party (I found out about this band like two weeks ago and now I’m going through a phase I’m obsessed)
Without lyrics: I am ready by Kevin Kiner & Sean Kiner: from the bad batch season three soundtrack. Been listening to it a lot lately, as it feels pretty prevalent to the time of my life that I’m at
Favourite color: light pinks and baby blues
Last book/fic: the last book I finished was defy the storm, by Tessa Gratton (I’m getting closer and closer to being caught up on THR)
Fic: Mace Windu fixes the timeline (You should read it, it’s wonderful) 
Last movie: the rise of Skywalker (yes, I love the sequel trilogy and what about it 💅)
Last show: the bad batch... I’m re-watching, again... how predictable 🙄
Sweet/spicy/savory: I have a big sweet tooth, especially when it comes to chocolate
Relationship: single real life, but in love with countless fictional characters inside my head🤩
Last thing I googled: what does the quest cookies and cream protein bar taste like? (look, I have arfid. I can’t just buy new things to try without knowing exactly what I’m getting into first)
Current obsession: Star Wars, duh! Specifically clones and TBB, the Mandalorian and the high republic
I look forward to telling you: that if you’re reading this you’re wonderful
No pressure tags (and I’m sorry if you’re being tagged again)  @clonethirstingisreal @eobe @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream and anyone else who would like to.
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serpentface · 27 days ago
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WARDI WRITTEN LANGUAGE (BASICS).
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Couya's full name (properly 'Haidamane Couya') written formally and with common handwriting conventions.
The Wardi written language derives from earlier proto-language systems consisting exclusively of logograms without direct phonetic meaning or grammatical structure. These symbols gradually became simplified and abstracted to the point of many having little intrinsic clarity, and combined to communicate abstract concepts.
The development of a full written language did not occur independently (as very few written languages do), and its phonetic elements (namely its use of syllabograms) were largely derived the 'ancient' Burri writing system, gradually synthesized with native writing conventions, and in the contemporary forms a wholly distinct system. The language's Relatively universalized form is a very recent phenomena, developing within the past two centuries with the region's conquering/unification into a single entity.
The contemporary written language is a mixture of logograms and syllabograms. It is read from right to left and arranged in horizontal columns. The most formal variant of this system contains each character within a square outline, usually separated by a small space. This outline confers little phonetic or symbolic information beyond making distinction between syllables exceptionally clear, and can be (and often is) omitted in handwriting. The separation of words is conveyed through a narrow rectangle or line in formal contexts, and again often omitted in handwriting (instead indicated instead by a wider blank space).
The pure logograms that have been retained in this writing system tend to be those of very common words or specific concepts (most logogram characters for types of livestock, key crops, water, major body parts, etc are widely recognized and in common use). There has not yet been any attempts to fully 'formalize' the language and omit potentially unnecessary logograms, and they remain frequently used as shorthand while conveying the same semantic information.
Many of the syllabogram characters are directly derived from logograms that depicted monosyllabic words. For example, the spoken word 'gan' means 'cow', and the character for the syllable 'gan' is identical to the common logogram for 'cow'.
The name Gantoche (literally "cow-eye") could be written either fully with syllabograms as:
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or through logograms as:
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Both ultimately communicate the same meaning, but the former clarifies pronunciation (the words gan and atoche are contracted, it's gantoche and not gan-atoche).
It is a relatively easy written language to learn, as the pure syllabogram characters indicate their own pronunciation with little ambiguity and often have consistency to their construction (ie the character for the syllable 'man' contains most of the same elements as that for the syllable 'wan'- the dot placement in particular has indication of the vowel sounds).
The inclusion of logograms in general and many of the syllabic characters being directly imported From logograms complicates matters. These characters lack visual consistency, and can be confusing to the large swath of the public who know common logograms but not the full written language itself. Ie: the word 'ungande' meaning 'liver' will be composed of logogram-derived syllable characters for 'un' (which alone means 'hand') and 'gan' (which alone means 'cow'). Someone who is only semi-literate in common logograms may be confused at the meaning, especially since these same exact same characters may be used elsewhere on their own to indicate 'hand' or 'cow'.
One major exception to this tendency is that current religious doctrine requires established logogram characters describing God to be used in place of syllabic characters. The word for god is 'Od', and has its own unique character (as do each of the Faces, the capital F 'Face', and Its deified pronoun). The syllable 'od' [oʊd] is very common in the Wardi language, and a wholly separate character is used for the phonetic sound when it is not a reference to the deity (ie 'lion' (odo [oʊdoʊ]) does not contain the same character for God in spite of its first syllable having the exact same pronunciation). Names are a bit of a gray area (ie: the name 'Odabi' is very common and carries the meaning of 'gift/blessing from God'). Religious leadership is currently experiencing a mild schism on whether the written character for God is separated due to being wholly sacrosanct (and thus inappropriate to include in the written form of a personal name) or as more of a functional delineation of the sacred and mundane.
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sassy-bitch-since-2007 · 1 year ago
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Headcanon for Island of the Slaughtered : Of all the survivors (Gwen, Duncan, Katie, Lashawna, Cody, Izzy and Eva), only Cody felt bad about Heather dying. That's because she's never been mean to him, unlike with the others (especially Gwen and Lashawna). He wanted to go back and help her, but Gwen took hold of his hand and dragged him away- which was for the best, as both Cody and Heather would have died in that scenario.
I think, of all the campers on the Island, only Cody, DJ and Harold got along with Heather. That's because they saw some good in her, despite her mean and harsh personality.
Side-Note : More people felt bad about Noah's death due to the circumstances, but if he were to die differently (like Courteney or Heather) only Cody would've been affected by it. That's because, again, Noah's never been mean to him, unlike with the others.
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dragonflyxem · 10 days ago
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Heyyyy so I just finished binging Supernatural and um
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WHAT THE FUCK
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kazxraval · 16 hours ago
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"That little sod's getting to you." An hour ago, Emre slashed and stabbed his way through an entire crew. Yet doted on this kid. Maybe thinking about his own childhood in comparison to what hand Ali was dealt. Ali, thrust out of the safety of what the world was and thrown into combat on the streets of a dystopian version of Seattle. Dog eat dog, watch your back because someone like Georgie's people might be watching it out too. Maybe Ali's dad liked poetry too. Maybe his mother didn't carry him but it was the only mother he ever knew.
Kaz paused to watch fingers trace up his arm. They left a pleasant sensation behind, Emre's fingertips leaving invisible ink behind .Kaz's voice sank lower while he hung on Emre and consulted the map. "No one ever talks about this. What happened out here, do they? 'Cause we can come and go as we please, hm? Still picking at the carcass." Nothing imbued in the words, merely a fact. "Haven't actually thought about how I'd still be here, you know. If I hadn't ended up on the island."
"Ever know anyone named Marlboro?" He smiled as his hand reached for the prodding elbow. Pain settled over him like a blanket. Once they returned, it'd be more like a blanket heavy with water, weighing him down. For now, Kaz moved for his sake, for Emre's too. "Think one of these pricks has a five year old stale pack of cigs around here?"
The numbers in a long table didn't take much to decipher. Unmade bed, undisciplined. An observation to play again and again in his head. "Untidy bed, untidy mind, huh?" He hummed. "My priya." He brushed Emre's cheek and pinched it in the end. "My pasandeeda." His gaze wrapped all around Emre, affectionately. "I leave my bed unmade after you've been in it. As a reminder."He squinted as if seriously contemplating. "Maybe captain got laid?"
A velvet hammer kept chipping at the whole Georgie thing. Once upon a time, Kaz had the brain to collect information, construct and parse it into something digestible and understandable. Always about others, not so much about himself. His laugh came from the deep end of his throat, as a hand combed dark wavy strands of hair back (dried sea water, dried blood).
His tongue made a soft click as his lips parted. "Emre, I felt things about her I'd never felt about anyone else." Kaz wouldn't say the word out loud, it hadn't been meant for Georgina in years. "When it ended, it really hurt. And I didn't want to feel it anymore." A tenderness, a vulnerability used up, and used against him.
Seconds suspended to examine Emre's expression. "But, can't hang on to that shit." A soft laugh. "It's okay to move on. She's just someone I used to know." Yes, he recalled the recent conversation about people changing. "Haven't you ever felt something that you just, like. You want to forget about? Let go?"
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"I'd rather look back on you singing that song into the rock." A more relaxed sound, like a sigh. "At the waterfalls. I look back. I look back all the time." Not indignant and not pissed off, the emotion was one for Emre to excavate.
Now, Georgie. He'd like to bury up to her neck in the cold Pacific sand.
Feroze, Edward, Reyansh. Georgie spat-sprayed a bloody cackle. 'Oh, I'm supposed to give a run down on every person in Seattle?' Georgie squirmed in her seat and then cleared her throat. 'Edward went to prison in California. Reyansh followed to be close to his daddy. Surely Kaz told you his brother was a real kiss ass.'
A more introspective quiet followed by a frozen whisper. 'Feroze's brother.' Her jaw set firm and light eyes burned as they turned on Emre. 'He's little. A boy. But he can do a lot of damage. Especially when he finds out you killed Feroze.'
The name Edward absorbed all the light in the room for Kaz. Actual questions he'd waited ages to find the answer to, about Edward, might be sitting with their back to him (Georgie). "Do you know if he got out of prison?" Probably, with the charges brought against Edward, Kaz doubted his father would've still been in jail, in 2020.
Georgie turned her head towards her shoulder. It wasn't enough to see Kaz. For that, she'd have to completely twist around in her seat. The gesture enough, her tone meditative, careful. 'I wish I could tell you. Priti divorced him, so. I don't think she kept up with Edward after.' She waited, and then asked, 'You still haven't said where you've been. If not in Seattle, where?' Kaz didn't waste a minute. "On the beach. Lazing around, floating in the water."
Emre turned those spotlight eyes on him. Georgie aggressively snapped the map away from Emre. She sighed with a dramatic eye roll, and a snide mutter: 'Places to be, hmph. You're embarrasing.'
The map was given the briefest once over before a sharp nail tapped the paper. 'Here. Fermé has been abandoned for a while. No one guards it. But enough ships pass by too, they can pick up me and Ali.' Kaz immediately approached to rip the map away from Georgina. He slipped into a seat at the helm and proceeded to figure out how the hell to steer towards this word he'd never heard before.
Ali's high-pitched wolf barks someone filtered up to them. Georgie dropped her head back against the chair she was in, a demonstration of exhaustion. Kaz stalled the boat for a moment, then motioned for Emre to follow him just outside the bridge, to speak away from Georgina.
"Don't know if I trust her, but reckon we have no choice. Ali, though..." The sentence trailed, the thought of Urmilla's hand turned to sand in Emre's that time, when Emre refused to let his mother go.
A hand pointed out the dark coastline. No lights, no evidence of life. "The place she mentioned, Fermé? It's somewhere over there. Not too far away. But. You okay with leaving the kid there with her? Because I don't know what else we can do for him. Unless." A dumb thought. "Wonder if two people have ever tried to bring someone back from the outside." Or would the kid end up as molecular spaghetti stretched across time?
As if on cue, Ali's fists pounded his agitation out on metal below in a staccato rhythm. The shout wasn't muffled so much that they couldn't understand. 'I can hear you stupid motherfuckers! You ain't leaving me anywhere! Now, let me OUT!'
Kaz stomped a foot twice and shouted at the deck. "Holy shit, hold your fucking horses you little twat? We're trying to get us all the hell out of here!"
"Can you blame him, though? What sort of life has he had, man." Emre murmured, staring down at Ali. Listening to Kaz's brittle-edged tone of...what? Frustration? Annoyance? Confusion? "Little sod like that shouldn't face daily struggle, he should be kicking a ball about innit."
But of course, Kaz had nothing to yearn for. Emre looked at Ali and remembered his own gloried, nostalgic, safe childhood, something to be cherished and preserved. What did Kaz have, from that age?
Kid's lucky he didn't end up like his brother.
A soft snort of agreement as Emre touched Kaz, fingers sliding along the inside of Kaz's long, heavy arm. Reminding Kaz of humanity, if nothing else. Kaz just killed two men; it was hard to come down from a brutal, bloody high like that. Emre was trained to switch gears, when he had his own baby to mind, back in his London days.
The hatch closed for later (Ali would be fine) and they turned to the maps. Kaz thankfully maintained that contact, arm around Emre like he didn't want them to split again. Emre nestled in easily enough, watching as Kaz translated the maps with his keen discernment, noting patterns and codes in the writing that Emre never could.
"Riddles, that," Emre decided, as Kaz pointed out the words. "Last names, maybe? Could bloody do with a ciggie right about now, if I'm honest." A grin, a gentle elbow against Kaz's side (his bruised ribs, were some cracked? Kaz was surfing on adrenalin but not for long. Emre had to get him home, somehow. Fucking teleports!) Kaz smelled of fresh sweat and salt, making Emre's mouth water. Thirsty, hungry for Kaz even now. "Map was in a binder, all numbers in a long table. This seemed the most useful; we've got to dock somewhere on this map, don't we." A cluck of his tongue, about the Captain's cabin. "Unmade bed; undisciplined, that."
The Georgina question was bound to get Kaz discomfited. But he gave Emre the story willingly, and more of the picture formed. "It's always complicated. I know you don't feel bollocks for her now, but. She still affects you, yeah. She's from your past, of course she does..." Emre tilted his head up, allowing Kaz more scratching space under his chin.
"Bloody hell, you never look back, do you darling." It was the same with Ani, that poor little ghost-creature trailing after Kaz, who Kaz would barely even acknowledge...and then she was gone again. "You've got to, luv; she's here."
And Emre wanted answers. And maybe his reasoning was a little selfish; he was hungry for Kaz, even from Georgina's memories. Georgie was happy to provide tantalizing stories of this man, his man. About poor Ani's memorial, and Kaz in grief.
Emre's feelings split in two. Supremely irrational jealousy of Georgina, for having been in Kaz's life back then, known him back then. Been there with Kaz, when Emre obviously wasn't. (Kaz at seventeen...Emre would've been in Afghanistan.) Emre wanted to know everything; and had to hear it second-hand, in torturous ways for Kaz.
And Emre had the graces to feel bad, seeing how much Kaz hated it, but. Hated what, exactly? The old feelings that Georgie forcibly exposed, or some embarrassment he felt now? Or something else entirely, maybe. Kaz tried to give Emre his past, which Emre was grateful for but...bloody hell, he'd never get this chance again, would he? Actual people, from Kaz's past. If Emre could strangle and wring out every tidbit about Kaz from Georgina's long throat, he would.
Georgie's description of Priti felt so different from the woman that Kaz had described from his childhood. A useless ghost of a woman, who couldn't even pull herself out of her own self-pity, to love her children. Never mind protect. And now, Georgina called her a caretaker, for kids.
"What do you know about Feroze's brother?" Emre squinted at Georgina. "Priti would give the little blighter away for organ shifting, that's how she 'takes care' of bloody kids, then?" He kissed his teeth, dropped his hands from Georgina and took a step back in deliberately showy disgust. "You're both twisted sisters, innit. Cut from the same cloth. And what about Edward? Reyansh? They still about?"
Kaz, slightly bowed, on the borderline of begging for some sense out of this. Something that didn't have Georgina rake him across the coals; and Emre knew he had to tread lightly here.
"We're all fucking tired, sweetheart. Grow up, it's embarrassing you acting like this." Emre smoothed out the map in front of Georgina. "Find us some place to land. We're not here to fucking destroy your trade, don't you worry. We don't - we can't fucking care, yeah? We've got places to be, don't involve your blood profit. We just want off the boat..."
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A long look at Kaz over Georgina's head, a meaningful, heavy gaze. Georgina was beyond redemption, this much was clear. And what Emre assured her of her safety once they landed could easily be a lie, if Kaz chose.
If Kaz chose to kill Georgina too.
A banging noise from below deck. And then a small, hoarse (and pissed off) little voice, howling: "Hey!! Hey get me out of here! Help, hello! HEYYYYY!" It was Ali, awake.
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imerian · 8 months ago
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I think i should grace all of with another charms i did, this time it's galex edition ✨
As always version without doodles under the cut and all details in the tags bc i physically cannot not put thoughts into what i do
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#george russell#alex albon#firstly - i gigled from height difference so much#also I'll start with Alex#it was kinda hard to match all of different Williams blue plus whatever blue i associate with him#hopefully i did good in that department#also love white paited with blue bead on the end bc it's clearly hand painted(i bought a bunch of different from the same place and it very#love white bead on the ends with blue painted on it(it's hand painted from what i can see and i think it's very alex vibe)#also pink safety pin#i was dying to use it#and paw with blue beans it was literally the charm that gave me idea in a first place#now i want to say abt matching heart beads bc when i saw them galex was literally my first thought#now going to George firstly i want to talk abt how particular his blue is#it's killing me bc it's pain in the ass to match#also doodle of merc symbol on black bead???oh I'm so proud of that one#and bead i used for his eyes bc it have a lot of colours in it and really similar to whatever reference i could find???i love it so much#it's so fun to use#also that big star i already had on a piece of vire but had nowhere to use#and it fit ls here so ideal i think it's destiny#also last part that i love abt George one is that i had space to play with metal#you can see that there is both black metal and silver looking one#I used them both bc they fit merc very much and I'm always happy to mix them a bit but it doesn't always work#i think it's all for today thanks for reading!!!#williams racing#why I can't find tag for mercedes f1 team#anyway#galex
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decarbry · 2 years ago
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hey,, what’s up friends, I bring you... a literal summary of the Yabureme story up until around war arc events. obviously this is spoilery so if you don’t want to know what happens until the relevant comic pages come out don’t expand the post! this is just for people who don’t mind spoilers. also keep in mind that this is a summary so I kind of just. word-vomited. it’s... weird? short and sweet but not in some places. a literal mess. I put 0 effort into writing good and some sections are more wordy than others because I've thought them through for longer and have them more solidified. also things are subject to CHANGE between this and the actual comic pages so read with a grain of salt. the major events are probably gonna remain the same though. things might get inserted or removed. idk. also it’s LONG I’m so sorry. enj... oy ?? ?
Aizawa has been taken. Midnight and Nezu attempt to comfort Mic; there are no leads, but the faculty have already started working schedules out to help search, which reassures him. Though he is desperate to join the search, Nezu refuses to give his blessings until he knows Mic won’t act rashly. Mic hosts the Sports Fest in an attempt to ground himself and find unity with the students.
Hidden away, Garaki has begun his work on Aizawa. The injuries are bad; though Garaki is an accomplished and varied medical professional, he can’t do what Recovery Girl can, so Aizawa is merely stabilized and the bio-engineering in later dev stages will be relied on to do the heavy lifting. Aizawa suffers 2 days and nights of infusions (one for each new quirk) and barely powers through an intense fever on the last night. The capsule is the final and longest stage to allow the quirks to take hold and the body to heal. All for One is a regular voice in the background during the entire process, though those visits stop after an incident in the capsule in which Erasure activated for a solid ten seconds and strikes everyone in the room before going inert again.
Time passes with no news. Mic is becoming frustrated and less willing to listen to reason. Classes 1-A and 1-B attend their summer camp with Vlad and various other heroes that have substituted since Aizawa’s absence. Bakugou is kidnapped by the League in an attempt to recruit. Though the topic is raised, Shigaraki refuses to do more than tease Bakugou about his missing teacher, as well as use him as a bargaining chip. We still have yet to see him since his abduction. The mission to rescue Bakugou begins.
All Might engages in combat with AFO at Kamino. His weakened form is exposed to the world and he musters up his strength for the last strike. Instead, OFA fails, and all heroes present immediately know why. Edge Shot rushes to interrupt Erasure while Endeavor attempts to reach All Might. Neither get there in time and All Might takes a blow straight through his chest. Endeavor takes over the fight against a wounded AFO and Edge Shot engages in battle with Yabureme. Edge Shot is killed and Endeavor manages to subdue AFO.
Hours after the battle ends, Kurogiri searches for Yabureme, who has not reappeared as he was meant to. He finds Yabureme badly injured and hiding after his fight with Edge Shot and warps him back to where the League has taken up to recover. Shigaraki only knew that AFO had plans for Aizawa, not that Yabureme was to be a gift for him, but Kurogiri informs him of this. Shigaraki is unimpressed considering Yabureme’s wounds after only a single fight, but he’s going through some stuff, so he has license to be a bratty child for a night. Once Kurogiri hears from Garaki, he takes Yabureme to be patched up. Later he’s returned to the League, who as a whole are unsure about what to do next now that AFO is captured.
While everyone else is appalled to hear rumors that the supposed-missing Eraser Head was present at Kamino and had a hand in assisting the villains, Mic suddenly has a new fire lit under him. He breaks away from UA and strikes out on his own, against the pleas of friends such as Midnight. He manages to track the League’s movements after much work and finally sees Yabureme for the first time… but is unable to reach or speak to him as his quirk is erased during their escape.
Class 1-A witnessed Mic depart and, with the help of other pros, manage to convince Mic to let them help in catching Yabureme. He is very resistant to putting them in danger but relents with the alliance of Midnight and Gran Torino. During a previous sighting it was noted that Yabureme’s movements slowed and stiffened the more eyes were open on his body, so a plan is hatched to surround Yabureme with as many enemy quirks as possible in order to stun him.
Yabureme is located. He’s alone, which is odd, but not wanting to miss their chance, the operation is launched. Surrounded by what he believes are hostile enemies, Yabureme opens enough eyes to erase the quirks of every student, stunning himself. A short battle ensues; Kaminari is injured but proves instrumental in the discovery of a weakness in the Nomu: that an electrical current will force all of his eyes to close and subsequentially interrupt Erasure. Mic, Gran Torino, Midnight, and Class 1-A succeed in capturing Yabureme.
Too much of a threat for any normal prison containment, Yabureme is taken to Tartarus. They learn: about the nature of his engineering, that exhaustion has nearly killed him, that unlike every other Nomu contained so far he is not a corpse, and that three quirk factors were combined to create Yabureme. Erasure and Dupli-arms (or related) are confirmed, but the third is still being investigated. Because the third quirk is still unknown, containment is at a risk and a shock collar is placed to help mitigate any attempts at escape. The students are brought in to speak to him after everyone else, including Mic and Midnight, fail to get any response out of Yabureme. Unfortunately, the students are also unable to get through to him. Their failed efforts leave them dejected. Yabureme doesn’t speak a word the entire time he is inside Tartarus.
After a few days, the third quirk is activated by an unknown trigger. Yabureme and AFO escape Tartarus with the help of Kurogiri— the timing of the pieces prove that this was orchestrated from the beginning.
In the wake of the escape, Mic is told in secrecy that Yabureme has not removed the shock collar, probably because of its failsafes. It’s been tracked, and his location is known— a new operation is underway to recapture him. Mic rushes to get there first, finding Yabureme in solitude at an abandoned building, having split ways from the League temporarily to avoid getting them tracked while he tries to find a way to remove the collar himself. Mic and Yabureme have a tender moment, or so Mic thinks… but Yabureme slyly uses Mic’s obvious obsession with him to get the hero to take the collar off. Mic falls for it and Yabureme flees.
Though it seemed to be just manipulation, this kind interaction has left the first shred of uncertainty in Yabureme. He returns to the League and resumes his role in protecting Shigaraki and the others. A long period ensues where the League and the heroes play cat and mouse, Mic returning to society in order to accept help from friends and family rather than trying to go it alone as he had before.
Day after day, Yabureme’s doubts deepen as small things burrow into his mind: things like a song on the radio, a familiar black cat, names that he’s heard before. He can’t shake the face of the hero that spoke to him gently and had something warm in his eyes. He meets Eri, but seems to be merely a moment of warmth in her life before departing. Time passes.
The League grows frustrated with Mic, considering his constant interference as troublesome and annoying. Dabi sets a trap for Mic and attempts to kill him. Without any understanding of why, Yabureme takes the worst of the trap himself. He drags an unconscious Mic away from the inferno before collapsing with horrific burns across the right side of his body. Mic wakes in time to feel Yabureme’s heart stop, and in his anguish accidentally causes it to start again with the impact of Voice against the Nomu’s chest.
Mic manages to smuggle Yabureme to a hiding spot, containing him with the only thing available: simple metal handcuffs. Recovery Girl answers his call to the secluded site warily, unhappy that she is asked to keep such a dangerous secret. She stabilizes Yabureme and begins healing some of the burns, but considering his physical deterioration and exhaustion, can’t do much in one sitting.
When the Nomu wakes, Mic and Yabureme have their first real conversation, speaking mostly about the latter and how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, and why Dabi, his supposed ally, would harm him so badly. He also points out that Yabureme could get out of the cuffs easily, and yet, for some reason, hasn’t.
On the second day, Recovery Girl returns, but so does a second guest: All Might. He is partially wheelchair-bound, the apparent repercussions of the wounds he took at Kamino. He expresses his unhappiness with this situation: Yabureme needs to be properly contained, not hooked to a chainlink fence with fragile metal handcuffs. Mic wants his blessing but plans to keep Yabureme here at least for a short while, highlighting the fact that he’s behaving more openly now than he ever did while in Tartarus. They notice Yabureme watching them and All Might speaks to the Nomu alone. He and Recovery Girl have agreed to give Mic a few days with Yabureme until his burns have been treated, but that he will be returned to Tartarus after that— and now that the third quirk is known, escape will not be possible a second time. He shares some belief that Mic is right that there is hope for Yabureme and that if anyone deserved a path back to normal, it was Shouta Aizawa. He urges the Nomu to try his hardest to remember anything he can.
In the ensuing days, Mic spends time conversing with Yabureme. Unlike the catatonic state he was in while at Tartarus, Yabureme is nervously conversational, answering questions and asking them on his own. He admits his confusion and doubts to Mic, and Mic learns that the whole reason Yabureme was unresponsive while at Tartarus was because of the lights and the intense head pain they cause, utterly decimating his senses and thoughts. He wasn’t shutting down because of his programming or a need to be disobedient— he simply could not function in those conditions.
The morning of the intake comes. Tsukauchi and numerous officers arrive to take Yabureme into custody. Mic attempts to keep everything smooth, warning Yabureme about their arrival and making sure that there aren’t too many men appearing at once. Yabureme nearly panics anyway at the sight of firearms, but is calmed when Mic holds his hands and gives encouragement. Yabureme is taken into custody without a struggle, though he shuts down when he’s led away from Mic.
Mic apologizes to Tsukauchi for hiding Yabureme, but is forgiven considering the relative ease of the capture. The detective promises to keep Mic with Yabureme as much as possible this time around, since his presence clearly helps. He also acknowledges Mic’s request for accommodating Yabureme’s aversion to the bright lights of the prison, especially with the confidence that it might help with getting information out of the Nomu. Yabureme’s shutdown reverses some when Mic reappears in the police transport to travel with him to Tartarus.
Yabureme and Mic arrive at Tartarus and the Nomu is immediately assaulted by the lights. He’s given relief in the form of a sedative. His wounds are checked over while he’s out: it’s discovered that his right eye took far too much damage from Dabi’s flames and must be removed before the dead material causes an infection, shock, or worse. The majority of the burn scars will be permanent because of the lack of proper immediate care in a supplied burn ward. Aside from a handful of new scars and wear and tear, nothing else is noted.
Yabureme startles awake, finding himself in a Tartarus cell with Mic at his bedside. The lights are dimmed rather than blindingly bright. Mic gives him the rundown of what happened, and proudly tells him that the hardest part, getting to the start line of his recovery, was over. He is questioned for the first time the day after waking, and though he is much more responsive to interrogation compared to his last stint in Tartarus, Yabureme still shies away from answering questions that would cause the League a disadvantage… though he is clearly conflicted.
So begins Yabureme’s long road back to someone he didn’t know he used to be. Mic becomes the only foothold of stability Yabureme has, finding that his physical reassurances such as hugs and hand-holding are intensely grounding. The second time he is questioned, he holds Mic’s encouragement in his mind, and manages to talk shortly about some of the Leagues’ hideouts.
He still has doubts about all of this Shouta Aizawa stuff, but Mic works him through stories of his past gently and at a slow pace. The first bit of information that helps Yabureme see that the possibility exists of a connection between himself and this other person is a story Mic tells about Aizawa feeding cats on the street; Yabureme shyly, but excitedly, admits that he does that a lot too. After this, things begin to come more swiftly. Mic brings him his wedding ring, and Yabureme asks to hold Mic’s as well, and remembers the sensation of them clicking against one another in his hand.
With Mic’s help, and the help of a therapist that meets with him daily, more and more begins to come back. Even memories he reclaims are left blurry and dull, but once the flood gate opens, it doesn’t close, and Yabureme’s progress quickens the harder he works. When his memories begin to focus on Class 1-A, he asks to see them. Plenty is still missing, but he apologizes for the things he did to them, focusing on Kaminari and the wounds inflicted during his first capture. He wants to work for their forgiveness, but doesn’t expect it. Midoriya mentions that he seems a lot more like his old self, which fills Yabureme with a hidden relief and encouragement.
Time passes. Yabureme continues to work hard at getting back to himself, and the image of Shouta Aizawa gets more clear by the day. His old mannerisms begin returning in small amounts: rolling his eyes at stupid things Mic says, muttering about things that annoy him. When he gets a surprise visitor, both Mic and Yabureme are surprised to find Kaminari requesting advice for a hitch in his hero training. As Yabureme converses with Kaminari in an observation room, Mic and Tsukauchi watch, and both are amazed to see the clearest image of Aizawa they’ve seen since before his abduction. Mic takes the opportunity to ask about a road that leads outside of Tartarus and, though Tsukauchi doesn’t shut it down, he admits there are many concerns— specifically regarding hidden triggers that might still exist inside Yabureme’s mind. An idea is floated: bring someone in with a voice-copying quirk, and see what happens when Yabureme is faced with orders from Shigaraki or All for One.
Yabureme (Aizawa? Yabuzawa by this point?) agrees to the experiment, though he is clearly discomforted by the idea, unsure of how he mind be effected. The experiment begins. Yabuzawa is secured heavily just in case, but he is clearly determined, if nervous. The voice-copying quirk speaks in Shigaraki’s voice first, ordering him to turn his head to one side. Yabuzawa doesn’t seem to have a problem disobeying, but when the speaker doubles down and becomes hostile about his refusing to obey an order, Yabuzawa spirals and has a panic attack. All for One’s voice cuts in with an order that is obeyed immediately, and Mic is only able to snap him out of it with a slap to the face. The results are clear: Shigaraki’s orders can be ignored with enough work, but AFO’s orders seem unquestionable. Yabuzawa is frustrated by his own perceived failure in the experiment, understandably upset that despite all of the progress he’s made, they still hold some power over him.
Time passes. Yabuzawa improves with his response to Shigaraki’s voice, though still shaken after being faced with it, can do so without panicking. AFO’s orders seem unbreakable. Mic once again breaks the topic of getting him out of Tartarus, and after some debate, it’s agreed that the UA students and the hero efforts (and Yabuzawa himself) would benefit more with Aizawa back in the world. By this time the unknown of the League and AFO and the PLA have long been poisoning society’s trust in heroes; Erasure can’t be hidden away in a bunker with tensions growing by the day.
Mic is permitted to confine him to their apartment under police guard for increasingly longer periods of time, regular check-ins and evaluations, and lots of rules. Yabuzawa isn’t permitted to be alone with anyone aside from Mic, and when outside of the building must cover his neck, arms, and hands. Finally, the shock collar is back as a last resort. If you read this whole thing you’re a certified #1 Yabureme fan sorry I don’t make the rules
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dirtytransmasc · 1 year ago
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I have a question for other fibro, chronic pain/fatigue, disabled people, cause I need some help.
I have issues showering, like most of us do, due to pain and fatigue and weakness etc. that makes standing up for long periods and the physical labor of washing myself difficult, and have spent quite a while just making it work.
I tend to just sit on the floor, but because of the tightness in my legs that makes it so I have to kneel or hunch over to avoid pain/stress on my joints (which causes circulation issues in my legs if I kneel or back pain if I hunch), the difficulty I have getting up and down, and the amount of times I've almost passed out from the effort, sitting on the floor is becoming less of a solution and more of a hindrance.
my real problem is that I can't stand shower stools. I have never found one that lets me feel mobile in the shower, I always feel stuck and boxed in because they limit the range of motion I still have.
I have issues turning around to wash my hair out. I have to pick between being in the water or being just out of it which makes washing my hair and body difficult. I can't easily make any major position changes without more effort than I would need by just sitting on the floor. I have a very hard time holding the shower head so I have to leave it up in the holder which leaves the water and me in very fixed positions.
overall, shower stools do not work for me, and I was wondering if anyone had found other solutions to the showering issue, cause I want to rip my hair out.
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