#we’re being threatened by new actions

[thelesbianthespianposts]

happy July fourth!! Today’s a day to remember why America has a president and not a king. The recent Supreme Court decision giving presidents full immunity goes against that fundamental principle of the country. The only way to keep our country a democracy is by voting. Nothing is gained by refusing to vote, if Trump wins he will form a dictatorship.

[luveline]

Idk if you've ever written it, but like, hotch having to save bau!r after she's been kidnapped and tourtered and shit and when hotch finds them, babes is BLEEDING and shit and like barely coherent but spewing the absolute most random bullshit to hotch bc their panicking and whatnot?

thank you for requesting 💌 fem, 1.2k

Hotch has felt sick for three days. 

He stands with his ear pressed to his shoulder, as though holding the ear piece further in will bring news of you quicker. His hands are up and ready, torch and firearm held aloft, wrists crossed. 

Morgan has to go in first. Morgan, because if you’re dead, Hotch will take actions that will disbar him from being Unit Chief. He can’t keep his head, not if you’re gone. His anger will swallow him whole, and he will do things that can’t be forgiven. 

His stomach churns, waiting, waiting, waiting. The sky is dark as pitch and the house they surround doesn’t stir for a time. 

Then, low and long, carrying heavy through the air like a sledgehammer to his chest, is the reed of your screaming. It’s a strangled sound, sobbing to begin with, begging as it ends. Hotch hears your, “No, no, please! Please! Please.” Your third please fractures into a writhing scream as the pain begins again. 

Hotch’s arms twitch, threatening to fall to his sides. You’re alive, but… 

“Okay, we’re going in,” Morgan says through the ear piece, clearly having heard the same agony as Hotch. “Right now. Team two with Hotch. Everyone ready?” 

You must have screamed so loudly for it to get through walls. That’s all Hotch can think as he follows behind the second team, the sounds of cracking wood and tight footsteps ahead.

He’s not in the room, but he’s down the hall, he can hear the fuss as he hurries forward. “Drop the weapon!” Morgan shouts, evidence of his own anger in the sheer booming volume of his voice. “Drop the weapon now! Drop it!” 

A sharper crack as a bullet hits something and a thud. Hotch forces himself into the room just in time to see a large, short-haired figure fall to the floor. 

You’re covered in red and purple and brown, blood in long lines and gushing from deep wounds, a mess of it. He doesn’t even know where to start, your gutted, exhausted sobbing like a knife in his stomach, your limp hands hanging either side of the strange chair you’ve been strapped to. “Morgan,” you say, audibly relieved and yet your pain obvious and electric as you gasp for air, “Morgan, you have to get me out.” 

“I’ve got you,” Hotch says, holstering his gun in one breath and by your side the next.

A SWAT agent begins to saw through your binds with a serrated knife. Hotch’s hands stutter on the metal ends of the chair, wanting to touch you but terrified he’ll put a hand in a wound he hasn’t noticed. 

“Hotch,” you say, and your relief is worse now. Like you aren’t covered in your own blood, like his being there has fixed everything. 

“Y/N,” he says back, holding your elbow carefully, “it’s okay, it’s all right.” 

“You have to get the straps off of me. I need to go home-”

“I know, that’s what we’re doing. We’ll get them off of you–”

“–I have to go home, Hotch. You have to take me home.” 

He knows that medical are close behind them, they’re coming in just as soon as the building has been cleared, and there’s more than enough agents to have it done in the next thirty seconds. He has to assess you in that time. He can take care of you. 

The SWAT agent cuts your last bindings and you immediately attempt to get up, gasping in pain when four hands push you down at the same time. “Sit down,” Hotch says, “Y/N, just stay there, just for a second.”

“No, no, let me down, I need to go home, I haven’t looked after anything and– and the laundry’s piled up, and–”

“Honey,” he says firmly, “I’m gonna take you home. I am.” He meets your eyes, panic and tears and concerning bloodshot clouding your vision. “I’m gonna take you home, but please stay still. Just until the EMS is here. Just so they can look at you.” 

“I want to go home now,” you say, nearly shrieking, grasping at his arm. It’s so loud in the room with so many people speaking that he’s almost glad for it. 

Your fingers slide down his sleeve and leave streaks of gore in their wake. Your hands are caked in your own blood. Done with his bargaining, you push up into his arms and get onto one of your feet, an incredible amount of force behind you as you get your way. Your knees buckle immediately —Hotch scoops you up and dumps you back in your chair, even as you cry and cry into his chest. 

“No, I need to go home, I have so much to do, I can’t stay here,” you whine, pain eating at your voice, your fingers weakening where they’re pressed to his stomach. 

“I promise I’m going to take you home,” he says, ducking to speak directly into your ear. “Do you trust me? I promise I’m going to take you back home. Please, please, sweetheart, trust me.” 

You hiccup, tears thick running down your cheeks, and orange where they collect at your chin, chest heaving as you border incoherency. “I do trust you. I– I trust you, I just–”

He takes a showful breath. “Deep breath. I’ll bring you home soon.” 

“All my plants are dead,” you mumble, blood smudging over your eyelids as you rub them harshly. 

Hotch holds your wrists. 

— <3 

He keeps his promise (though you don’t remember him making it, not beyond what Morgan recounts). Hotch takes you home when you’re well enough to be there, and he, done with pretences, stays for a while as you recover. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life, peering at him through sticky lashes where you lay in bed. 

He’s odd to see without shoes. “Nothing,” he says, misting the leaves of your window plant with a frown. “Just hoping I can bring this one back to life.” 

You’re not sure why he’s so worried about the plants. It can’t be judgement; he knows exactly why they died. 

Well. Whatever professionalism was between you is well and truly gone. You wonder what it is you said to him that made him finally snap, but it was nice to wake up with his hand in yours, and it’s nicer still to see him each morning. When you clear your throat and look at him longingly, you know without asking that he’s going to find his way back to your side, and kiss your cheek, hands smelling of fresh soil. He does it all with ease. 

“You brought me back to life,” you joke weakly. 

“I had much more help than the plants.” He’s been panicky around you sometimes since he found you again, but not scared. He tilts your face gently one way and then another. “You look pretty, but very tired. Why don’t you sleep some more, hm?” 

“Can I… I mean, do you think you could…” 

He takes your arm as he settles in to comfort beside you. His fingers begin to trace a gentle line down your arm, meandering around cuts and bruises. 

You close your eyes, hesitant of the darkness. “Are you sure I’m okay?” you ask quietly. 

“You’re home, honey. Safe and sound.” 

[callsigns-haze]

Little chaser

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler and Y/n Owens enjoy a cozy movie night, only to be interrupted by their storm-chasing squad, who are shocked to discover Y/n's pregnancy

Warning: Contains themes of pregnancy and unexpected revelations.

Tyler Owens and Y/n had been inseparable since their whirlwind marriage seven years ago. At just eighteen, they had tied the knot, driven by a shared passion for adventure and a love of chasing the formidable storms that danced across the plains. They became well-known in the tornado chasing community, their bond only strengthening as they faced nature's most terrifying phenomena side by side.

Tyler’s squad, consisting of Kate, Javi, Boone, Lilly, Dexter, and Dani, had always adored Y/n. Her keen eye for weather patterns, her fearless attitude, and the calm she exuded even in the most chaotic of chases made her an invaluable member of the team. Yet, for the past two months, Y/n had been conspicuously absent from their adventures. As Tyler joined the crew for another chase, the questions from his teammates became harder to avoid.

"Tyler, where’s Y/n? It’s been weeks since we’ve seen her," Kate, the team's meteorologist, asked with a concerned expression as they gathered around the radar equipment.

"Yeah, she’s usually the first one ready to go," added Javi, the tech expert, adjusting the monitors for the latest storm updates.

"Is everything alright? We miss her energy out there," Boone, the seasoned storm chaser, chimed in, leaning against the van.

Lilly, looked at Tyler with worry. "She’s okay, right? You can tell us if something’s up."

Even Dexter, the quiet yet observant driver and mechanic, nodded in agreement. "We’re just concerned, man. It’s not like her to just vanish."

Dani raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Ty, it’s not like Y/n to miss out on all the fun. What’s going on?"

Tyler forced a smile, his mind racing for a plausible excuse. "She’s... taking some time off. Needed a break from the constant adrenaline rush, you know?"

The squad exchanged puzzled looks but didn't press further, though their concern was palpable. What Tyler couldn't tell them was the truth he and Y/n had been guarding closely: Y/n was pregnant. The revelation had come as a surprise to both of them, and they had decided to keep it a secret until they were ready to share the news with their friends and family.

Y/n’s absence from the chases was necessary. Tornado chasing, with its inherent dangers and unpredictable conditions, was no place for someone expecting a child. Yet, staying away from the action and the team they considered family had been difficult for both Y/n and Tyler. Their shared passion for storm chasing had always been a cornerstone of their relationship, and this new chapter brought a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

Back at their modest home, Y/n sat on the porch, her hand resting gently on her growing belly. She missed the thrill of the chase, the camaraderie of the team, and most of all, being out there with Tyler. But she knew this was the best decision for their unborn child. Every time she felt a flutter of movement within her, she was reminded of the new adventure awaiting them.

Tyler returned home that evening, exhaustion etched into his features. As soon as he stepped onto the porch, Y/n greeted him with a playful smile. "Took you long enough. Did you get lost without me?"

"Hardly," Tyler replied, grinning as he wrapped his arms around her. "But it wasn't the same. Everyone's missing you."

Y/n laughed softly. "I bet they were all pestering you with questions."

"You have no idea," Tyler said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Kate even threatened to hijack my phone and call you herself."

Y/n giggled, leaning into him. "I miss them too. But I miss you most of all."

"I know, peach," Tyler said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "But we’re doing what’s best for the baby. Soon enough, we’ll tell everyone, and they’ll understand."

Y/n nodded, her eyes reflecting a blend of anticipation and nervousness. "I can't wait to see their faces when they find out."

Tyler knelt down, gently placing his hand on her belly. "Hey there, little one. Your mom and I can't wait to introduce you to the wild world of storm chasing. But for now, we’re keeping you safe and sound."

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling with love. "Our little storm chaser in the making."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Tyler and Y/n sat in comfortable silence, holding onto each other and the secret that was growing stronger every day. They knew the coming months would bring challenges, but they were ready to face them together, just as they always had.

"Do you remember the first time we chased a storm together?" Y/n asked, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips.

Tyler chuckled. "How could I forget? You were fearless, diving into the van and shouting directions like you were born to do it."

"And you looked at me like I was crazy," Y/n teased, poking his side.

"I thought you were crazy," Tyler admitted, laughing. "But then I realized I was just as crazy about you."

-

Y/n and Tyler had decided to unwind with a movie night, something they hadn't done in ages. The living room was cozy, filled with soft lighting and the aroma of popcorn. Y/n sat on the couch, her hand resting gently on her growing belly, while Tyler was fiddling with the remote, trying to find their favourite movie.

"Finally, a quiet night just for us," Tyler said with a smile, settling next to Y/n and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Perfect," Y/n agreed, snuggling closer. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "You know, you could have let me pick the movie for once."

Tyler laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hey, I’m just making sure we avoid any sappy rom-coms."

"Sappy rom-coms?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "You loved the last one we watched."

Tyler feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Oh really?" Y/n teased, poking his side. "I seem to recall someone tearing up during the wedding scene."

"That was a momentary lapse in judgment," Tyler replied, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably as a grin broke through. "Besides, I was just... sympathizing with the groom."

"Sure you were," Y/n said, laughing. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Admit it, you’re a big softie."

"Only for you," Tyler murmured, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. He gently lifted her chin, his eyes locking with hers. "And soon, for this little one too."

Y/n's heart melted at his words, and she leaned in for a sweet kiss. "We’re going to be a great team, the three of us."

"Absolutely," Tyler agreed, his hand moving to rest on her belly, feeling the gentle flutter of their baby. "I can’t wait for all the adventures we’ll have together."

They shared a comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of their love. Tyler adjusted the blanket around them, making sure Y/n was cozy. "You know, I was thinking," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Maybe we should name the baby after me. Tyler Jr. has a nice ring to it."

Y/n chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Tyler Jr., huh? What if it’s a girl?"

"Tylerina?" he suggested, earning a playful swat from Y/n.

"How about we come up with names that don’t make our child sound like a pasta dish?" she teased, her laughter infectious.

"Fine, fine," Tyler conceded, grinning. "But I get veto power over any weird names."

"Deal," Y/n said, her eyes twinkling with affection. She nuzzled closer, her head resting against his chest as the movie finally began to play. "You know, I’m really glad we’re doing this."

"Me too," Tyler whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Tyler," she replied, feeling a wave of contentment wash over her. Despite the excitement and challenges ahead, she knew they could face anything together.

As they settled into the movie, their playful banter continued, each teasing comment only strengthening their bond. They were perfectly in sync, a team in every sense, ready to take on the world and the storms it might bring.

Just as they were getting lost in the film, the sound of laughter and familiar voices outside grew louder, followed by a series of knocks on the door. Tyler and Y/n exchanged puzzled looks.

"Are we expecting company?" Y/n asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Nope, not at all," Tyler replied, standing up to answer the door.

As he opened the door, he was greeted by the entire squad: Kate, Javi, Boone, Lilly, Dexter, and Dani. They were all grinning widely, carrying snacks and drinks.

"Surprise!" they shouted in unison.

"Hey, Ty! We thought we'd crash your movie night!" Boone said, holding up a bag of chips.

"Yeah, it’s been too long since we all hung out together," Dani added, balancing a tray of cookies.

"Hope you don’t mind," Lilly said, already making her way inside.

Tyler forced a smile, glancing back at Y/n, who was now sitting up straight, her eyes wide with surprise. "Of course not! Come on in."

As the team piled into the living room, they suddenly stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening and jaws dropping when they saw Y/n. Her baby bump was unmistakable, clearly visible beneath her snug-fitting shirt.

"Oh my God," Kate gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes darted from Y/n's belly to her face, searching for confirmation. "Y/n, you’re... pregnant?"

"No way," Javi said, his eyes wide with shock. He stepped closer, almost as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. "How far along are you?"

"Is that...?" Boone trailed off, unable to finish his sentence as he stared at Y/n's belly. His usual confident demeanor was replaced with sheer astonishment.

Lilly’s eyes sparkled with excitement. "Y/n, are you really...?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Even Dexter, who was usually so composed, looked completely floored. "Wow," he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "Congratulations!"

Dani was the first to recover, breaking into a wide grin. "You’re pregnant!" Dani exclaimed, clapping their hands together in delight. "That’s amazing news!"

Y/n smiled, her cheeks flushing as she placed a protective hand on her belly. "Surprise."

There was a moment of stunned silence before the room erupted into cheers and excited chatter. The squad rushed forward, enveloping Y/n in a flurry of gentle hugs and congratulations.

"This is incredible!" Kate exclaimed, rushing over to hug Y/n gently. "Congratulations! How far along are you?"

"We had no idea!" Javi said, shaking Tyler’s hand enthusiastically. "You guys kept this under wraps really well."

"Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" Boone asked, grinning from ear to ear as he patted Tyler on the back.

"We wanted to make sure everything was okay before we told everyone," Tyler explained, smiling at his friends. "And we didn’t want to take any risks with Y/n out in the field."

"That makes sense," Lilly said, nodding. She hugged Y/n again, her eyes shining with happiness. "We’re just so happy for you both."

"Thanks, everyone," Y/n said, her eyes glistening with tears of joy. "We’re really excited, and we’re glad to finally share it with you all."

The squad quickly settled back into their usual camaraderie, congratulating Tyler and Y/n and bombarding them with questions about the baby. The room was filled with laughter, hugs, and a sense of overwhelming joy.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Dani asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Not yet," Y/n replied, smiling. "We’re waiting to be surprised."

As the evening went on, the movie was forgotten, replaced by stories, jokes, and plans for the future. Kate and Javi argued over potential baby names, while Boone and Dexter discussed the best baby gear for future storm chasers. Lilly, ever the caretaker, promised to help with anything they needed.

Tyler and Y/n felt a wave of relief and happiness, knowing that their friends were as thrilled as they were about the new addition to their tornado-chasing family. The sense of community and support was palpable, making the announcement even more special.

"We’ll be there for you every step of the way," Kate said, raising her glass in a toast. "To Tyler, Y/n, and the newest member of our crazy crew!"

"To the Owens family!" the group echoed, raising their glasses high.

Tyler and Y/n exchanged a loving glance, their hearts full. Surrounded by their closest friends, they knew they were ready for whatever storm the future might bring.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

[trans-axolotl]

ID: Intersex activist Max Beck standing in front of the American Academy of Pediatrics with a sign that says Silence=Death.

On October 26th, 1996, the first ever protest for intersex liberation in America took place when activists from Hermaphrodites With Attitude took to the streets to protest the American Academy of Pediatrics. Later memorialized as intersex awareness day, this important action was a milestone for the American intersex movement. Max Beck, one of the intersex activists from HWA, documented the entire protest and later published their recollection in the Intersex Awakening Issue of the Chrysalis Journal. The full piece is pasted under the cut.  

"But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. 

I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America. One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. 

We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!" 

Hermaphrodites With Attitude Take to the Streets: By Max Beck, 1997

In late October of 1996, Hermaphrodites with Attitude took to the streets, in the first public demonstration by intersexuals in modern history. On a glorious fall day, the like of which you can only find in New England, under a crackling, cloudless sky, twenty-odd protesters joined forces to picket the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians in Boston. Deeply aware of the historical and personal significance of the action, and — correctly — surmising that a notebook diary would not be practical on such a whirlwind, windy week-end, I took a small hand-held tape recorder with me. What follows are excerpts from the resulting transcript.

October 24, 1996 2:45 PM, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport

The trip has only just begun and I am already exhausted. Hot. Starving. Fifteen minutes until take-off. Every businessman boarding the plane looks like a pediatric endocrinologist, Boston-bound. Silly thought, testimony to what? My anxiety? My fear? My giddy anticipation? If these bespectacled, suit-and-tie sporting men were pediatricians, would they be flying coach on Continental, with a layover in Newark? I’m headed for Boston, for the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians (AAP). Tens of thousands of pediatricians. I’m not a pediatrician, though, nor am I a nurse; in fact, I barely managed to complete my B.A. I’m a manager of a technical laboratory. We don’t work with children, and the AAP certainly didn't invite me, so why am I going?

With the plane taxiing toward take-off, this is a lousy time to reassess. I’m going. I’m going because I am intersexed. I’m going because the doctors and nurses who treated me as an infant and a child and an adolescent, and those who continue to treat intersexed infants and children today, consider me “lost to follow-up.” I was lost— that’s part of the problem. Now, I’m back.

9:02 PM: Boston’s North End

I’m comfortably ensconced in Alice’s warehouse condo in Boston’s North End, a renovated warehouse with a view of the city skyline, ceilings easily twenty feet high, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous tile floor. As I speak, my hostess is preparing an absolutely phenomenal meal. The aroma of roasted peppers permeates the entire space. Tomorrow, the work begins; my project this evening is to unwind and enjoy this wonderful meal. Easier said than done. I’m feeling excited, enervated, I feel very alive, something I don’t feel very often, I feel very present and aware. It could be my exhaustion, it could be the Chardonnay. But I think, rather, that the excitement is anticipation about what we are about to do. Being here, finally being prepared to raise a voice, to be heard, to be seen, a vocal, out, proud hermaphrodite who is standing up to say, “Let’s rethink this, this isn’t working, we’ve been hurt, stop what you’re doing, listen to us!” I’m really looking forward to meeting Morgan at the airport in the morning; it’s always amazing to make eye contact with someone else who has been there.

October 25, 7:38 AM Boston Commons

En route to my encounter with the AAP, walking the approximately two miles from my hostess’ domicile to the Marriott Hotel at Copley Square, I pause in the Boston Commons to enjoy a park bench, to sip my Starbuck’s decaf, and to watch a group of senior citizens performing Japanese swordsmanship on top of the hill beneath a monument to some forgotten general. The city is cool this morning, but clear, and it promises to be a beautiful weekend. That’s good: we won’t be rained out. I’ve got a stack of about ninety ISNA brochures in the bag at my side, crammed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. If I want these pamphlets to get inside, I’ve got to get to the site of the Nurses’ Panel at the Marriott before they close the doors. Then it’s back out to the airport, to pick up Morgan. My feet are already killing me.

October 26, 9:15 AM: North End

Morgan and I are sitting at our hostess’ breakfast table, pulling our thoughts together. In a few minutes, we’ll have to leave to pick up Riki at the airport. The logistics of pulling together an action are mind-boggling. There’s no describing the thrill, though, of all that work, all those phone calls, all those miles. Riding a clattering subway on a Saturday morning, seated beside another living, breathing, laughing, swearing intersexual, hugging near-strangers at unfamiliar airports, then riding back, together, defiant, determined, organized, to the heart of so much of our pain, so much of our anger, so much of our need. We gathered in front of the huge Hynes Auditorium, pamphlets and leaflets in hand, and met the AAP attendees as they left the convention center for lunch. The next hour-and-a-half was a blur, as we positioned ourselves in strategic locations before the Hynes, held signs and “Hermaphrodites with Attitude” banner aloft, distributed our literature, engaged AAP members and passers-by in conversation and debate, spoke to microphones, to cameras. In all that time, I recorded only one fragment of a breathless sentence. 

Saturday, 12:20 PM Outside the Hynes

We’ve got all the exits covered, and it’s an incredible, incredibly empowering experience. I remember the words I spoke to the TV camera, if only because I had scribbled a rough outline on the airplane, pirating mightily from Cheryl’s press release. And because the moment was so salient, so real. Me, Max, bespectacled, with blisters on my feet and chapped lips, speaking out to untold numbers of invisible viewers (and a few bewildered pediatricians behind me.)

"When an intersex child is born, parents and caregivers are faced with what seems to be a terrible dilemma: here is an infant who does not fit what our society deems normal. Immediate medical intervention seems indicated, in order to spare the parents and the child the inevitable stigmatization associated with being different. Yet the infant is not facing a medical emergency; intersexuality is rarely if ever life-threatening. Rather, the psychosocial crisis of the parents and caregivers is medicalized. 

Intersexuality is assumed to be a birth defect which can be corrected, outgrown and forgotten. The experiences of members of the intersex support groups indicate that intersexuality cannot be fixed; an intersex infant grows up to be an intersex adult. This hasn’t been explored, because intersex patients are almost invariably “lost to follow-up.” The abstract of a talk that will be given at this very conference by a doctor who treats intersex infants concedes that “the psychological issues surrounding genital reconstruction are inadequately understood.”

Part of the problem is that we were lost to follow-up, and there were reasons for that. But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America.

One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!

7:20 PM: Boston’s North End

Goddess, this is so sweet, so liberating! I was so reluctant a week ago, having my Jesus-in-Gethsemane experience, reluctant to accept — not an onus or responsibility but — to accept who I am. And here’s where the hard work really begins. I’m exhausted when I think of the road before us. But then, it’s nothing like the road behind us. 

Max Beck, 1997.

[nocturnalpl4gue]

༊ ⊹ ˚. Yan!Enki and Ragnvaldr x reader 🕸️

CW: Obsessive behaviour, guilt tripping (Enki being Enki), depiction of violent urges, being tied up, bloodplay, biting, borderline cannibalism as a love metaphor, friends to one-sided enemies, slightly suggestive.

Enki never thought of himself as the affectionate type, never has and never will, but when it comes to you, oh that smile of yours, those bruised limbs from the dungeon struggles, that strong will you could consider contagious; he yearned for it all, for it to belong to him.

Those thoughts keep buzzing around in his head whilst he reads and reads on the dirty library within the main hall, while you were right next to him, looking at his irritated expression with shaky pupils and an unsteady breath. He couldn’t focus with you like this, or him filled with so many thoughts by that matter.

“i can’t focus with you staring at me like that” Enki scowls. “you know, you should appreciate that i brought you here with me, and sharing my knowledge with you in the first place”. Those words make you feel like you’re pouring salt on a wound, but Enki has no ill intentions whatsoever, at least in his point of view.

You decide you look down in and stay silent, but your action is interrupted by a lanky hand grabbing your face by the cheeks, making you look up at the priest’s hollow eyes. “tch. can’t believe one can be so ungrateful” again with the foul words. He has always been the mysterious type, but this behaviour towards you was new. He has drawn sigils nearby every exit to prevent you from leaving, and still he won’t say a word unless it is to complain. He grabs your face tighter and frowns, mumbling to himself. “Why is it that you….”

What you don’t understand is he’s doing this out of pure fear. Not fear of losing, or death, or violence or whatever one could be thinking about, but fear of the feeling that creeps up to his head every time he glances at you. He wants to hold you, to grab you so tight he invades the cavities of your body and rips your heart out, to treasure it like a gem. He wants to kiss you until your skin wears out, and to know your every emotion. Love, he thinks, is something he wasn’t meant to feel. And so he doesn’t know how to behave, lost in a maze made from his own insecurities.

He sighs, trying to remember what those cheesy romance novels he read as a kid told. Enki, still with your face in his hand, plants his dry lips against yours, lapping them with an awkward lick. He looks at your shocked expression. “You don’t seem disgusted.” He mutters. “I assume that is one of the reasons why i put up with your whining.” He continues, acting all tough and indifferent as if his heart wasn’t jumping out of his chest. That kiss, if you could call it one, made everything click in his head. He needs you to be by his side at all times, to channel his insanity and transfuse it into passion. All he wanted right now from the overwhelming emotions that engulfed him, was to tear your skin apart, to pulverise your bones and carry you around like his personal doll. You’re his; the Gods predetermined you two meeting in the hellhole this dungeon is, to save each other, and stay together forever.

“You’re awfully quiet today. I hope you stay like this and follow my orders while we’re in here, or i’ll break your legs and drag you around.” He had this threatening aura around him as these words spewed out his mouth. But it wasn’t with an ill intent, no? He loved you after all, he thinks so at least.

All this was for your own good, he convinces himself; you need him to stay alive, otherwise you’d be mutilated on the floor for the guards to take pleasure with already. So of course you love him, you have to. And he loves you too, for the rest of eternity.

Even an outlander such as Ragnvaldr has felt love once, but he has also felt sorrow, rage and pain. Those former emotions that haunted him still haunt him now, and are very present in his actions. Alas here he was, covered in blood from head to toe. It’s hard to see which is the enemy’s and which is his own.

The dungeon remains radio silent for the first time in possibly decades, or even centuries. The guards were no more, and so were the lizardmen, yellow mages, cave dwellers, a man who seemed to become a God, and the list goes on. He killed them all. His revenge has been fulfilled, so what now? It was only you and him traversing the passageways and bloody pits that kept him entertained.

Ah, that’s right. You. You’re a nice one to be with, aren’t you? So kind of you to stay by his side while he tainted the walls red, while his bloodlust was satiated. You were like a little lost dog always stepping on your tail, grabbing onto the outlander’s cape to encourage yourself to take another step. And he enjoys that a lot, the fact that you’re always latched to him made him feel the same about you, craving your touch and presence at all times.

So here you were, in a dark, musty room with your arms and legs tied up with your own torn clothing. The humid cold breeze hit the cuts and wounds decorating your body, making you flinch. But what makes you straight up wince is the sound of echoed steps coming closer. It was Ragnvaldr, the man who saved you countless times and you developed a bond with, who now looked at you over your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re alright while i was out. I found some resources.” He says while crouching next to you. “Here, i got you some bread” You look at him numbly as he pulls out a piece of bread, surprisingly in a fairly good state. “Open up” He directs the piece to you mouth but it remains sealed tight, refusing whatever he gave you. You’d rather starve than accept what the man you used to trust with your life provided. He however wasn’t having it, looking at you with a light frown and pressing the fingers of his free hand against your lips. Without saying a word, he pushes until his fingers enter your warm mouth, opening it with spit coating his hand. With that, he tears a piece of the bread and puts it between your palate and jaw, forcing you to chew on it.

“See? it wasn’t that hard…you need to eat or you will die here, cold and in pain.” He says as if nothing was wrong. Ever since some time ago, could be weeks or days, you lost count at this point, the outlander has been acting out of his mind. At first you thought the insanity of the dungeon got to him, but he reassured you he was okay, that if you were there with him everything was okay. He killed the monsters in gruesome ways, tearing their tendons out with his teeth and crushing their heads with a stomp. It was like he was letting out emotions he didn’t want to go through, and now they all burst out onto an obsessive love and overprotection.

He loves you so much, he really does. So much that he starts shaking while looking at his fingers full of spit, embracing you tightly with his nails damaging your exposed back. It stung. His embrace got tighter, and tighter, much like a snake that caught its prey. He wasn’t letting go, his shaking getting heavier and laboured breathing leaving his mouth. “i love you.” he says. “i love you, i love you” He just keeps on repeating the same sentence over and over, that is until he, without a single thought in his head, bites down hard on your collarbone. You let out a hiss and try to push him off, but he’s too heavy. He just keeps gnawing and clenching his jaw around the bony appendage, so much that blood falls much like the tears around your eyes.

“It hurts….” You manage to let out. But he’s not listening. Much like a hound he has gone absolutely feral, embracing your entirety with his bulky body. His hands claw onto your spine leaving marks, and his legs are wrapped around your waist. He lets go, and switches to your neck, biting just as hard. Like he was starving he licks the blood away, no kisses and no passion put into it, just pure desperation. After protesting more and more the pain just numbs out with the rest, and you decide to relax, and stay in his arms while he devours you away. “i love you” he says, and your mind goes blank.

[paradlselost]

ATONEMENT —

noir x fem!reader x homelander

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ based on this ask from a little while ago . sorry it’s taken so long , i got a second job and i’ve been really busy </3 . anyways i’m obsessed with this new layout ; sorry i keep changing it lol . reader is left intentionally vague on whether or not their a supe !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ set sometime in between s3 and s4 , earving lives au . smut : abuse of power , coercion (?) , degrading names used in and out of sex , p in v , oral ( m receiving ) , deep throating , m / r / m pairing , public sex , voyeurism , unprotected sex , cream pie . 2.2k words . NOT BETA READ

His tongue swipes over his front teeth, sucking on them sharply in an attempt to regain some composure. The corners of his mouth twitch back and forth between a pained smile and a deep frown. Hatred brews behind those blue eyes of his, no doubt crafting a punishment in his head.

Poor, stupid doll, it wasn’t your fault now was it? How were you to know the truth of Homelander being Soldier Boys son would send him spiraling? You’re just a girl, after all, naive and stupid. He can see what Earving likes in you, how you look up at him with those innocent eyes.

Corruption flows through his veins like blood, his hand audibly clenching in his glove. Oh, you’ll have to do something pretty sizable to make up for this fuck up, bunny. You’re lucky he didn’t reach in and tear out Noir’s heart, perhaps you would’ve seen the blood pumping to the sound of your voice, or how your name is carved into the organ.

Lucky you, Lucky Earving.

“Look I’m sorry okay? We’re sorry. But don’t you think Vought would kill us if we told anyone?” You still have a smart mouth even when faced with his power, you run your lips like you’re invincible, as if one laser won’t halve you.

“Well he managed to tell you somehow. What? Am I not good enough to have the one thing he knows I want more than anything in the world?” There’s laughter sprinkled into his words, hate-filled and angry. You should tread carefully unless you want to get your pretty self damaged.

Homelander tilts his head to the side like a curious dog, watching as you worry your bottom lip in between your teeth. What answer could you give him? Yes, Earving could’ve told him if he really wanted to; how are you meant to defend your boyfriend's actions?

“You could’ve told me, doll.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what more I can say, you know now and look how it turned out. He didn’t want you.”

“Don’t fucking say that. Keep your goddamn mouth shut.” He advances faster than you expected, gripping your chin to force your mouth closed. The red leather feels hot against your skin, as if he’s burning in rage, seething through every line he speaks.

You can only whimper against his glove, always having hated the nicknames he bestowed on you. Doll, Bunny, Sunshine, a slew of others that he pulled out when he was antagonizing you. Demeaning you. An ant beneath his heel, a weed he hasn’t plucked in his garden quite yet because, despite being a pest, you’re an awfully pretty sight to look at.

So how you got scooped up by someone like Noir is a mystery to him.

“You’re better quiet. ‘Should laser your damn tongue out, won’t be talking much then, huh sweetheart?” He grins, sadistic intent playing on his features as he forces you to shake your head, another whimper escaping through his leathered hand. “Maybe someone should keep it preoccupied, then. I bet you’d look prettier with a cock in your mouth.”

Oh, how his smile only widens when he sees your eyes dilate in fear. Your hands reach up to grab at the leather still covering your mouth; to try and get some words out. Maybe an apology, a pathetic beg, he only shakes his head in response as his other hand grabs the back of your suit, forcing you to walk with him.

“Don’t look so scared, bunny. I won’t do anything to you, dont’cha trust me?” Perhaps his hand over your mouth is a good thing, vile words threaten to fall from your lips - holding nothing but contempt and anger for America’s favorite supe.

At first, you’re not sure exactly where he’s taking you. The halls of Vought Tower are long and winding, and look especially so in the state after Soldier Boys destruction; rebuilding yet empty. Almost liminal. You only manage to get your mind out of shambles as you see the statues of the Seven in front of the door. It’s fleeting, and in a moment you’re pushed onto the cold tile floor of the meeting room.

Noir is beside you in a moment, crouching down to help you back up. He’s gentle as his gloves rake through your hair and gently graze over the little bruise forming on your skin. It’s a complete shift from the red glove that was on you moments ago. Earving makes you feel safe and secure in contrast. He’s your home.

You can hear The Deep suppressing a laugh from his spot at the table, then quickly silencing himself. No doubt getting a look from Homelander. How the mighty have fallen, another empty chair in this ‘team’ as Maeve had disappeared after the big fight. They were falling apart at the seams.

“Go on, put that body to use.”

You blink at the words that cut through the eerie silence of the room, your ears practically ringing trying to pick up on anything they could - so you felt stupid when your brows furrowed in confusion at his command.

“What?”

“You heard me, put your body to use and take Noir’s dick.”

“Huh? Why the fuck would i-“

“Maybe I should just rip his heart out, then. Or are you going to atone?”

Noir is quiet, as always, yet somewhere behind the black mask and balaclava he always wore you could hear his breath catching in his throat. The glove that had been on your face finds its way back, gently taking hold of your chin. It takes a pitiful amount of time for you to realize what he means, that he wants to go along with this. Above everything else, you know self preservation is the most important thing to him.

Again, Homelander could cream his fucking pants at the way you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. His fists clench and unclench at his side, desperate to be the one putting hands on you; running them over your body and tracing every curve and pattern your skin makes. Perhaps he could memorize your fingerprints if he tried hard enough.

“Do these assholes have to be here for it?” The Deep snickers a bit more, his chair moving from side to side as he got a bit more comfortable for the show. A-Train looks a bit mortified, you were never particularly close with Reggie and knew how much of a prick he could be, but every interaction has been at least amicable, so it wasn’t a stretch to say he was a bit uncomfortable being put in this position.

“I’ll leave-…”

“Sit the fuck down, A-Train. No, we’re all going to watch.”

A small yelp at a sudden grasp of your hips, the rough fabric of Noir’s gloves being ingrained in your mind. He’s as gentle as he can be in this situation, it’s not the first time you’ve been put in such an embarrassing position in front of the others. It seemed Homelander had a special hard on for making you the spectacle for the others amusement.

A sigh fell from your lips, partly all too used to this and also smart enough to know he wasn’t playing around. No, he was pissed, and like the man-child he is if he says he’ll tear out Earvings heart, you know it’s not simple empty threats.

It’s nice, regardless. Noir has a way of shutting everything else in the world out - of making it just you and him. His half charred and mangled lips feel nice through the balaclava, pressing gentle kisses against your pulse point as his gloved hands slip down your front.

God, what a whore, leaning back into him like that in front of two powerful supes. And the Deep. Homelander doesn’t bother suppressing his grin as he leans back in his chair. What a good bunny, maybe he’ll have to play this card more. Maybe, in time, that’ll be his hand against your clothed cunt, pressing a digit in and using the leverage of the fabric as friction to make you mewl and squirm.

He could clap his hands together at the sight, like watching an amazing performance. Black gloves travel to grasp at your hips, guiding you forward against the V-shaped table, folding your body over the cool glass. It’s not the first time he’s done this, not the first time the meeting room has been used for this reason; after all, you two have been together for years.

But it is the first time you’ve made eye contact with Homelander while your mute boyfriend rocks his hips forward against yours, grinding into you.

At some point between Earving fumbling to get your suit off and the asshole in the chair re-adjusting himself, the Deep and A-Train were conveniently called away for some reason. It wasn’t organic, part of you knew Homelander somehow told someone to call them, but did you really care? He was kind enough to give you some privacy, you should be grateful, doll.

In some way you are, more so as Noir finally manages to get your clothes out of the way and slots himself behind you. He won’t take off his own suit, you know this, not someplace someone else could see - and someone else is actively seeing, but you won’t complain. Not when the feeling of his cock trailing against your folds is a good excuse to close your eyes and block out the blue ones boring into you.

He offers no prep. It’s not the first time you’ve taken him without it; but it’s rare and still foreign to your body. He knows, being as gentle as possible as he eases himself further and further into you. The stretch makes it feel like the first time all over again, soft tears pricking at your eyes which makes Homelander chuckle more. What a prick.

But you. Oh, you. What a beautiful sight you are to him as he practically blocks out the fact that his only ‘friend’ in the seven happens to be fucking you in front of him. He can imagine it’s him, imagine how sweet you would feel around him. Your breathing picks up, sharp whines and mewls interrupting your panting as the thrusts become deeper.

God, he wants to taunt you. Does that feel good, bunny? Is he reaching that spongy spot? But from the wanton moans that fall from your pretty lips and the way you put your body weight fully onto the table he knows there’s no way he’d get an answer now.

That familiar red glove reaches to grab your hair, at some point the mighty Homelander decided he could no longer sit back and watch, but needed to be a part of your atonement. Eyes fluttering up to watch him fumble single-handedly with his suit, you bite at your bottom lip, stifling moans and whimpers from Noir behind you; threatening to roll your eyes back.

“Can’t let lover boy have all the fun.”

And he doesn’t. Managing to get that part of his suit undone and awkwardly pushing the slit of his red white and blue boxers out of the way, your lips are almost immediately pressed against the tip of his cock. Angry red and weeping, who are you to tell him no? It gets rid of the eye contact, at least; so your lips part to invite him in.

It doesn’t take long for the glass table underneath you to fog up, the sweat accumulating on your body making it easier to rock back and forth with the rhythm of Earving’s thrusts. His black gloves grip your hips harder, almost possessively as he leans down to press his chest against your back, helping to keep you in place. His balaclava is damp from his own sweat and breathing, dog-like panting ringing in your ears.

His hips are stuttering just as Homelander’s head lulls back with the hollowing of your cheeks around him, hands gripping your hair tighter and pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. He loves to make you gag, it seems, hitting the back of your throat as much as he possibly can, using you to milk his leaking cock.

It doesn’t take long, and maybe in some other position you would’ve made a snarky comment about how soon the mighty Homelander came in your mouth, but with your throat coated in white and Noir following not far behind him into your needy cunt, you’re naturally lost for words.

Earving lifts you up and off Homelander, burying his masked face in the crook of your neck and pulling his balaclava up just enough to kiss and mark you like he does after every passionate encounter together. He’s a man of romance, and it feels sweet against your hot skin.

Such a good bunny, so sweet as you lean back against your boyfriend, pretty eyes fluttering closed from exertion. You didn’t get to cum, but you don’t complain, he likes that about you. A good doll should know when to open her mouth and when not to, he just hopes you learned your lesson.

“We’ll have to do it again sometime, yeah sunshine?”

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 17]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Heavily Implied Animal Cruelty (Lab Rats), Mild Body Horror, Implied Anxiety, Implied Depression, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 9.0K

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

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

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

2022

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t…”

“But I do, if no one else, I do…”

“Where’s Jason? I’m sure…”

‘It’s just… something isn’t right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

2018

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

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

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

You didn’t want to be a monster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were,” you corrected.

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

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

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

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

“It’s been a month.”

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

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

“That’s nice of him.”

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

“Is that a new phone?” Tim asks.

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

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

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

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

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

‘That’s new,’ he thought.

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

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

… Anger?

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

“I should be saying that to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Fine, working on her thesis.’

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

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

Or, maybe the falling out was just that bad.

~

2022

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

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

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

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

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

Captain Wayne Hospitalized. Brigade on Standby.

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

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

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

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

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

“So that skill of yours.”

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

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

“Control over—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Healed, but with no sign of reattachment.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Now this caught your attention.

Decomposition?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The hell do you mean?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any other questions?” You ask him.

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

“Thank you, sir.”

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

“Hm?”

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

“I see, thank you,” he nodded.

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

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

“Would you rather me nag or Claire?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take anything.”

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

“I see.”

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

“Do you still have it?”

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

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

“Hypothetically,” Tim clears his throat.

“Hm?”

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

“Which one of you broke it.”

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

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

Then, for the final time, the door opens.

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

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

“Just say it, your highness.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a royal order.”

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

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

“We’ve sent the details over.”

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

“No, that’s all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing too pressing, Captain,” Alex answers.

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

“Are you crazy?!” He shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Womp womp, you’re backpack.”

“It’s my bike!”

“I’m older!”

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

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

“When’d you get so strong anyway?!”

“Shut up and let me drive!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

Earth - 617

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

2019 - Gotham University

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

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

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

Dilated pupils, shaking hands —> Anxiety

Tense shoulders, clenched jaw —> Stress

Even breathing, controlled movements —> Understanding?

Why were all of your movements conflicting?

Bloodied hands, chipped nails, whitened knuckles —> Stress

Hunched posture, shifting eyes —> Stress

“Cassie?”

Quiet voice.

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

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

Conclusion —> Something is very wrong.

“What…” she muttered.

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

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

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

“Right over your vein?” You fell silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure that’s not…”

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

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

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

Dark circles, sunken cheeks —> Sleep deprived

Chapped lips, dry eyes —> Dehydrated

Thinned hair, pale skin —> Deficient

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435

@f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack

@akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz

@lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou @y3oudsc 

@rainnyydaysworld  @underworlder @franini

@mayo-0-o @mileskisser @nightw-izhu

@alishii @bluebear142077 @miso-sopas

@enjisthings 

[iwritefandomimagines]

REGRET — COOPER HOWARD/JOHN HANCOCK

masterlist

part one | part three [coming soon]

pairing: new bf!cooper howard/the ghoul x reader, ex-bf!john hancock x reader

description: you finally head to goodneighbor for a well earned rest… but hancock’s jealousy (and cooper’s possessiveness) might get in the way of that.

warnings: angst, swearing, jealous!hancock this time as well as jealous coop when you talk to him hehe.

author’s note: ok so i didn’t want hancock to be an ass (like that’s my og ghoul bf🤝) so he’s less of a prick than initially intended while cooper is… well… himself. but i hope u enjoy <3 part one linked above and smutty pt.3 coming soooon

———

“Ya sure you’re alright with this, sweetheart?”

Cooper calling you sweetheart had once ignited within you a combination of fear and excitement, never quite knowing whether he was doing so to tease you or with some semblance of affection.

Now, though, it spread warmth throughout your body — a sense of comfort knowing that he cared about you, with sweetheart being just one amongst a myriad other terms of endearment he used for you.

“‘S okay, Coop,” you tightened your grip on his arm where yours curled around it, “I got you, I’ll be fine.”

He hummed, seeming satisfied with your response as he leaned to press a kiss to your forehead, “If he so much as—,”

“He’s not gonna do anything, good or bad,” you shook your head, “He’ll probably just play the hospitable mayor and pretend he don’t know me, if anything.”

Cooper looked down at you now, trying hard to decipher your emotions.

You could tell, even after days of trying to reassure him, that he still had some fear you’d abandon him to return to a life in Goodneighbor once you saw Hancock again.

You leaned in a little closer, head resting on his shoulder as you made your way towards The Third Rail, heaving in a deep sigh at the familiar warmth it brought you.

You fought hard to ignore the stares coming your way, or the mumblings of Hancock’s men as they nodded for you to head on down.

“Alright, darlin’,” Cooper cooed, leading you to the bar, “What’dya want?”

Immediately upon replying (a bourbon, as always) you felt a shadow of a figure appear at your other side, as if he’d had a radar set for your arrival.

Cooper seemed uncharacteristically unaware for a moment as he busied himself ordering from Charlie, all while your former lover’s breath fanned over your neck.

“Well I never,” god, just hearing his voice again made your throat dry up… Even more so when you turned and saw his pained expression, “Didn’t count on ever seeing you here again. Especially not with company.”

The way he spat the last word made you shiver, unused to hearing him speak so harshly to you.

“We’ll be out of here in a few days— we just had a hell of a week,” you swallowed thickly, avoiding catching his intense gaze with yours, “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have—,”

It was now that your travelling companion noticed the other ghoul at your side, a snide grin on his face, “Well fuck me, didn’t take ya long did it?”

Before you looked at him you’d worried this was directed at you — that he thought somehow Hancock’s presence beside you had been invited.

But one glance saw his steely gaze fixed on the man before him, simultaneously threatening as well as mocking.

“Long time no see, Mayor. My sweet lil Y/N over here told me you’d been oh so hospitable last time she was here,” his hand fell to your waist possessively, watching Hancock’s eyes follow the action, “So we’re crashing at the Rexford for a couple nights if it ain’t no trouble.”

Hancock scratched the back of his neck, contemplating how to respond.

“We can leave if you want, John,” you choked on your words as you realised your error, “Mayor.”

“‘S fine, doll,” he bit, forcing a smile for you as he glared across at Cooper, “Welcome as long as you need. Can I speak to you alone for a minute though? Won’t keep ya long.”

You looked over at Cooper, not to seek permission but just to see how the request had gone down with him.

He was less than impressed.

“Is that a good idea?” you whispered shyly, fiddling with your fingers as you eyed the floor.

“Why wouldn’t it be, sunshine?” Cooper’s teasing seemed to have extended to be at your expense now too, and though you knew it was probably just 200 odd years of loneliness impairing his filter — you had to fight back the urge to roll your eyes, “‘S okay. We’ve got a hotel room to ourselves tonight, can’t keep you to myself the whole evening, can I? Much as I can’t wait to get you alone.”

You watched Hancock kiss his teeth — he knew Cooper was just trying to get a rise out of him, but it was certainly fucking working.

He chose to ignore him.

“C’mon, darlin’. Just a minute’s all I need.”

You sighed, “One minute.”

You followed him out of the room, cautious of the privacy you were being afforded as you turned to send Cooper a shy smile.

“How long’d it take you to find him, huh?” his voice wasn’t accusatory, he just sounded sad, “I ain’t trying to start a fight, I just hoped if I saw you again we might make things right. Didn’t expect you to be with someone else.”

You scoffed, “John, you ended things between us and it really fuckin’ hurt. I’m not sure you really get to be jealous or hopeful or whatever this is.”

“I made a mistake, sunshine,” he stepped towards you, “Been layin’ off the chems a little more since you left and I’ve been seeing straighter. I missed you.”

You gulped, feeling bile rise up your throat at his words.

Months ago, you’d most likely have jumped straight into his arms and forgiven him.

Now, it pricked it your heart in a totally different way. While it comforted you to know he’d made a change since losing you, it hurt that he couldn’t have done it sooner.

Besides, you were finally happy again now — Cooper made you happy.

“It’s a little late for that, don’tcha think?” you pouted, “And I know you’re more mad ‘cause he’s a ghoul when that’s like half the reason you decided we couldn’t be together.”

“I just thought— well, think, you deserve better,” Hancock frowned, “I’m just surprised.”

You sighed, “C’mon, don’t condescend me because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not condescending you,” he suddenly looked irritated more than sad as he had before, “You’re travelling around with a fuckin’ bounty hunter who’s bad news when you were—we were happy.”

“I’m happy with my fuckin’ bounty hunter, too,” your fingers made air-quotes as you snapped at him, “Can I remind you again who ended things here?”

“Alright, you’re right. I’m being jealous, but you can’t blame me,” he sighed defeatedly, closing his eyes for a moment contemplatively, “I’m really struggling since I’ve been cuttin’ down on the chems and—,”

You laughed bitterly, “Oh so you only miss me ‘cause you need something else to fixate on?”

“Low blow, huh,” he huffed, “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, sweetheart. I miss you ‘cause you’re you. Just got a clearer mind so can’t do anything to keep you off it now.”

“John…” he was stood closer to you now, and you were trembling under his close gaze, “I’m sorry—you broke my heart for no real reason and this is just—,”

“I’m sorry for treatin’ you like you can’t make your own decisions and— well, I fucked up. I regret it more than I’ve ever regretted anything,” he chuckled at his own words, “And I’ve done a whooole lot worth regretting.”

He drew in a sharp breath as you stayed silent for a moment, waiting for some kind of response that he never received.

You stood silently, biting your lip as you tried to calm your unsteady heartbeat with deep breaths.

He unfolded his arms, raising goosebumps on your skin as his hand rested on your forearm, “Look, Y/N, I ain’t gonna do anything you don’t want, I just had to see if there was any hope—he ain’t just any ghoul, I just don’t wanna see you with the wrong people.”

Before you could reply, you heard a kerfuffle outside, low grumblings of “you can’t go in there” and “wait outside” punctuated by the door swinging open to reveal Cooper.

“The only wrong person for Y/N right now is you, Mayor, so if I were you I’d watch where your hand’s going damn carefully.”

If looks could kill, Goodneighbor would’ve been mayorless in that moment.

Hancock didn’t retract his hand though, only raising his other one to dismiss his men, “Heh, you’ve made a lapdog out of the big bad bounty huntin’ ghoul I see, sweetheart.”

You watched Cooper’s hand rest on his gun at his side, staring at him a wide-eyed.

You knew he wasn’t stupid enough to shoot the mayor and that he was merely trying to threaten him, but it panicked you all the same.

“This here might be your town, but that there is my girl,” okay, his possessiveness could be really hot, “And if ya think I’m gonna let you sweet talk her after breakin’ her pretty little heart? Well, them chems really done fucked up your brain.”

The mayor shook his head, “Oh you’ve made that quite clear, but Y/N’s a big girl and can make her own damn decisions,” he glanced over at you now, “Me and you were happy before I went ‘n’ screwed things up, you can��t blame a man for trying.”

“Well, your mission failed,” Cooper pouted teasingly as he sauntered to your side and hooked your waist to pull you in close to him.

“Oh, ‘m sure you’ve had plenty of them, cowboy,” Hancock laughed through gritted teeth, sad eyes watching you lean into your new partner’s side, “Well, we had some good times sunshine, but I can see you‘ve moved on ‘n’ it looks like I can’t do anything about that.”

You sent him a small smile, looking up at Cooper for a moment to find him watching carefully for your response.

“I’m sorry, John,” you frowned, contemplating reaching out to hug him in a tactile show of forgiveness, “You’re right, things have changed. But that don’t mean our time together meant nothing to me.”

He smiled sadly at you, eyes briefly flickering to send daggers in Cooper’s direction.

You continued, “And I hope us being here don’t cause any trouble now. I’m happy, ‘nd I want you to be as well. We’ll, uh, see you around?”

“I’m glad you’re happy, really,” Hancock cooed, “Even if it’s with him. So yeah, I’ll see you around, gorgeous. Stay safe.”

“You don’t think I can keep her safe?” Cooper challenged, hand on his hip again as he snarled at him.

Hancock scoffed, “For someone so certain she doesn’t want me anymore, you sure are determined to make this a pissing contest, aren’t you?”

“C’mon, this is ridiculous,” you huffed, “I’m right here, for fucks sake. Right now I just need a drink, so if you guys are gonna carry on like this I’ll just go get one on my own, I guess.”

Hancock heaved in a deep sigh, itching for a hit of Jet given all the tension this conversation had left lingering in the room.

He didn’t want to fight over you like a possession, and he knew that really Cooper didn’t either.

“‘M sorry, Y/N,” he stepped back, turning to walk away, “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Cooper hummed, and you nudged his side at the continued warpath he seemed to be on, “Now c’mon sweetheart, we got a hotel room to get to.”

———

ok so this ended with cooper pissing you off in order to make way for makeup sex in part 3 basically hehe. im not sure how i feel so will probs come back to edit but i hope you enjoyed!!! feel free to request more… ive got a fluffy hancock fic almost finished too <3 in the meantime here’s my masterlist. x

[a-certain-romance]

Face the Consequence pt1

Characters/Ships: Ruan Mei x fem!reader Warnings: Smut written by a minor, Dumbification, scissoring, some fingering,

A/N: We’re almost at 600!! Yipieee!!!

As a longtime scientist working with the Department of Ecology, you were one of the first people to hear about Ruan Mei’s newest involvement with the space station. You didn’t know much about the true reason for why this genius appeared out of the blue. But what you did know is that her actions earned her a small debt.

As a small favor for Herta, Ruan Mei was asked to help deconstruct the makeup of a new plant species that sprouted in the ecology department. You first discovered it when it suddenly sprung up in the one of the department’s hydroponic farms. Neither you or anyone else knows how or why. Its peculiarities and rumored side effects require the project to be kept under the wraps until further notice. With your knowledge and expertise, Herta recommended you to work alongside the esteemed scientist until further notice.

Sure, it was a gamble. This particular member of the genius society wasn’t exactly known for her use of ethical practices. Yet, it was you who was recognized for the task. How could possibly pass it up? It was the perfect opportunity to give your career a leg up above the others and be the first to observe and experiment this new species, maybe even put a name to it.

The two of you spent a lot of time in the labs and it slowly became obvious to you why the is was kept hidden from others. Every time you were around the plant for too long you started to feel dizzy. You’d experience odd symptoms when encountering it for prolonged exposures—nothing life threatening— but concerning nonetheless. Perhaps some of the plant’s properties were allergy inducing?

Ruan Mei always looked fine. Though, there were some peculiarities you noticed as well. She always observed you for a little too long. You could try to understand her habits from a scientific perspective, but sometimes it felt like she was downright undressing you with her eyes. The awkward moments of accidental physical contact didn’t help either. It was obvious there was tension, but you would be the last to address it.

That is until a little accident occurs. An accident created by your own clumsiness. Who would’ve thought that a little swipe of your hand would fill the lab with foreign pollen?

The side effects were instant. You felt dizzy again, but from a different kind of emotion. And judging by the glazed look in Ruan Mei’s eyes, you weren’t the only one.

“Aeons, there we go. Feels so good, doesn’t it?” With your right leg against her shoulder, she rubs her pink, dripping pussy against your own.

“You’re so adorable when you’re all fucked out like this. All because of me” she groans. It only encourages her to double her efforts. The lab echoes with the hurried squelches of your cores sliding against each other.

Like a madwoman, her nails dig sharply into your hips as she rubs feverishly against you. Despite her being the one dominating, her sighs of pleasure overcome her. Her hips stutter from how good you feel against her. “Been wanting to have you for so long. You’re too tempting to just be my lab assistant.”

Ruan Mei grabs your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. “I’d make you my pet if I could. Steal you away from this station, give you a better purpose by my side.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being my little plaything. I could have you all to myself.” she rasped. “All to myself, all mine to fuck and destroy. C’mon, let me ruin you..” with loud moans from both of you, you both cum at the same time. She cries out, her grip loosening the slightest bit as she moves off of you.

Before you can move or say anything, she slips her fingers right in. “Ah, you’re a little tight. It’s no matter. I’ll have plenty of time to break in my new toy…”

[avocado-writing]

I’ve been really getting into this game, and I really want to draw something for it.

So, I come here to request BG3 ladies’ reactions (or all companions if you’re up to it) perhaps reacting to Tav taking off their helmet/mask for the first time in a while? Maybe because they have a new horrific scar they don’t want to show yet?

Either way, all your posts are a joy to read!

Aaa I’m so glad you like my writing, and yes of course!! writing their immediate reaction to seeing you (and as if you’re in a relationship).

Karlach

Is shocked, but only for a moment before she starts comforting you.

Tries to reassure you that your new scar is really, really cool!

Shows you her own scars in response, telling you the story behind each of them, trying to reassure you that she thinks no differently of you.

“Babe… you never need to hide anything from me. You know that, right? We’re a team and I love you.”

Gives you a kiss if you’re happy to let her, otherwise just holds you and lets you find comfort in her arms.

Shadowheart

Goes into healer mode immediately.

Tries to work some healing magic on your scar if it’s new and help the healing process along, or if it’s older will attempt a greater restoration for you.

If she can help it she’ll keep going down that path and start a long course of healing magic.

If she can’t she never directly comments on it, but every night she makes sure to kiss you on your scar so that you know she still loves you so dearly.

Lae’zel

Pauses to examine your scar and asks you how you got it.

She listens and nods along to your story, and you can see her internally damning herself for not being there to protect you.

“The Githyanki wear their scars with pride. Each one is proof of another well-won victory against a vicious opponent. This is no different.”

In tender moments alone she runs her hand across your scar, mapping it out, caressing you. Letting you know she loves you through her actions.

Minthara

Maybe this is not what she expected, and will let you know that it’s a shock - but mostly she’s just annoyed that you didn’t tell her.

“We are equals, and you should be honest with me about all things. Never hide anything like this from me again.”

At night you see her looking so sadly at you, and she goes back to training at double the enthusiasm. You realise she wishes she’d been there to protect you and that you never had to go through it at all.

She’d never admit to it, of course. however you do hold her tighter when you fall asleep by her side.

Jaheira

She is old enough to have seen many scars in her time, and this is just another one on the list.

She cups your face in her hand, caresses the new wound, and then holds you close to her.

“You are very brave, little cub. This is something which can never be taken from you.”

If anyone says anything snide about it, she threatens to wildshape into a panther and see how they like getting a new scar.

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 5

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aemond targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: dry humping

a/n: while everyone has been wonderful, i just wanna remind everyone that this is a fanfiction on tumblr.com. i care deeply about the things i write but at the end of the day this is fanfiction and it’s just not that serious. writing these should be fun, not stressful, so it’s not gonna be grrm quality storytelling, and that’s ok! we’re just here for a good lil time

series masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

Aemond had followed his brother to the streets, an urgent matter on his mind. He loathed his brother’s constant nonchalance, and was growing more and more frustrated with each step into brothel doorways, in search of the King.

He had yet to find the man himself, but instead found men of the King’s Guard crowded around a circular table in the brothel that held his own favor.

“Where is His Grace?” Aemond asked, approaching the table of drunken men.

“Not sure,” one of them began, “found this gorgeous dark-haired maiden a bit ago. We left him to his vices.”

The table erupted in laughter and cheer for their king, but Aemond felt a drop in the pit of his stomach.

He took a deep breath, almost incapable of asking the question for fear of the answer. “Did she appear Northern?”

The men quieted and exchanged glances. There was an unspoken understanding as Aemond flared his nostrils in annoyance at their disregard for their position. It would have made sense if Aegon acted so taken aback by the sight of you because it was, in fact, you, but none of them had considered such a thing.

Aemond stormed toward the bar, tended by the Madam, angry and in search of answers. He had no need to approach the Madam once he saw Aegon. He rushed toward his brother, pushing Aegon’s chest until he was backed against a wall.

“Where are you coming from, brother, hm?” he sneered, accusatory.

Aegon swallowed hard, unsure of what to do. He did not want to rat you out to Aemond, but he knew his brother’s senses were quick. One wrong movement and Aemond would instantly know your whereabouts.

The men of the Guard remained close to the action as the attention of the brothel turned toward the two silver-haired brothers. Despite it being their job to protect Aegon from the very harm his brother was threatening to inflict, no one dare go toe to toe with the one-eyed prince.

“Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to check the rooms?” Aemond directed toward the King’s Guard, still holding Aegon in place with a forearm across his chest.

Though the men worked for Aegon, not Aemond, they looked to their leader for permission, and could see who was truly in charge. Aegon was in no position to instruct them otherwise, so they did as they were told.

Moments later, three of the men came into view with a dark-haired woman, wearing only a robe, fighting with all her might to free herself from their grasp. “Is this her?”

You stilled, blowing the hair out of your face as you made eye contact with your alleged betrothed. You were tired, having just been with Aegon, and he was not the first of the night. Your body’s capabilities were being tested with each moment of fighting.

Aemond gave you a wicked smile, proud of himself for finally finding you after a month of tribulation.

“I see you’ve been keeping my brother company,” Aemond said.

You kept your head held high, brimming with confidence, but you stayed silent, the only noise coming from that of the spit flying in Aemond’s direction.

The room went silent, all the attention directed at the scene unfolding around the Targaryens. Aegon softly snickered, and Aemond dropped his arm from Aegon’s chest in an effort to divert all of his attention to you.

He took a step closer to you. “Your reputation was not falsified as you so claimed.”

“I never claimed as such,” you defended, “I am simply skilled at evading the truth around those who do not deserve to hear it.”

“It must be the truth, then, as only a true whore would fuck my brother the day before wedding me.”

“I never had any intention of wedding you, Aemond, as you very well know.” There were countless brothel patrons watching you, and you desperately tried to sway the subject away from your whoring. Luckily, your retort did so.

“You are to return to the Red Keep with me and be grateful that I will accept your hand in marriage in the morn,” Aemond stated.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Since when are you so confident, Aemond? In a battle with my tongue, you know yours will lose.”

“Maybe so,” he responded, unsheathing his blade and pointing the tip in your direction, “but there is a battle I assure you I can win.”

Aemond knew you had always desired to learn your way around a blade, and was taunting you on purpose. You refused to give him the satisfaction of the reaction he so craved.

“All of this just to wed me? Do you fancy me so?” you jested.

Aemond took a deep breath in preparation to speak again. “Mind your tongue when there is a blade pointed to your throat.”

“Or what? Off me here, My Prince, lest it be the only way to still me.”

Aemond suddenly became viciously aware of the attention of the surrounding patrons. You had him in a chokehold. With your statement, the only way he could win this argument was to murder you in a cold blood right on the brothel floor, and he would not do such a thing, no matter how fervently you patronized him.

He was speechless. He could not think of a single worthy retort, neither in speech nor in action. He kept his sword raised, but the fist around the hilt began to shake in anger.

You turned your attention to the man still against the wall, who’s attention never diverted from you, as he cleared his throat. “Rather inappropriate to argue this out here, do you not agree?” Aegon chimed in.

“I am not returning to the Red Keep, Aegon, and you yourself spoke that you would not force me to.”

Aegon sighed in remembrance. “Do you truly wish to return to Winterfell?”

“More than anything.” I wish for Winterfell more than I wish for you. You were not sure how seriously you meant it. Aegon was right, things were different, but you could not lose focus. Not now.

Aegon looked to his brother, then to you, contemplating his options, before saying the only thing that could truly surprise you.

“I shall prepare you passage for the morn.”

✶

It was nearly impossible to fathom that after all the crown had put you through, they would allow you to return to Winterfell, all because of the King’s affections and guilt. You debated if the gesture of passage was honest up until the moment the cold air hit your skin, and you knew you were home.

Cregan lifted you in his large arms, swinging your frame around in glee as tears pooled in his eyes from pure relief and joy. He inspected every inch of your body and asked you several times if you were okay, and what the crown had done to you.

You promised him you were alright, and you were, until he rushed off to inform Jacaerys of your return, and the reality of your past actions dawned on you.

How would Jacaerys react if he knew what you had done with his usurper uncle? Would he still vie for your hand?

You paced nervously in your chambers that Cregan had left untouched, anticipating the moment you would have to face your true betrothed.

You had every intention of confessing. You truly did. However, every thought cleared from your mind the moment your chamber doors swung open. Jacaerys was out of breath, having rushed straight to you, but the moment he saw you, he stilled.

You spun around, startled by the noise.

“Y/N.”

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to say.

“Y/N, holy shit,” he said, rushing over to you and enveloping your body in a tight hug. He kissed the top of your head, holding it against his chest as though he would never let you go.

“I missed you,” you strained through his tight grasp.

Jacaerys pulled away, but only to move his hands to either side of your face. He wasted no time placing a kiss on your lips, much more fervently then he had the first time you two had done this.

You reciprocated immediately, your only thought being him. You pressed your body even closer to his, comfortable feeling his touch for the first time in a long time. He felt like home.

“Jace, I-“

“Sh,” he stopped you.

“I just-“

“Shut up,” he demanded, eager to continue.

You gave in and continued to kiss him, allowing him to back you into your bed. Your knees buckled and you fell backward as Jacaerys leaned over you.

It was only then that he pulled away and caught his breath. “We are not wed yet, I can’t-“

“I do not care that we are not wed,” you stated, confident.

“I do not wish to defile your honor.”

You sighed. If only he knew. “I have no honor around you.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, and you slowly began to drop the shoulder of your dress, exposing more skin in an effort to coerce him into action.

“I cannot,” he repeated, sitting down beside you in defeat.

You contemplated if you wanted Jacaerys bad enough right now to risk telling him that you had no honor left to defile. “We are to wed in a matter of days, Jace, what difference is it if you take me now?” you questioned.

“It is not proper, it-“ his voice trailed off, the sentence lost halfway down his throat.

You leaned toward him, propping a leg upward and swinging it over his waist, allowing you to sit on his lap and face him. “I truly do not give a damn what is proper. I want you to fuck me, Jacaerys.”

He was notably taken aback by your candor and confidence, but his strength was wearing thin, and all he wanted to do was ravish you. He missed you so, and now that you had returned to him, he was desperate to claim you as his.

He tilted his head upward and allowed you to kiss him again, and you pushed his chest backward until his back was flush against the mattress. You held the back of his head to ensure his lips stayed connected to yours, instinctively toying with the strands of his curly hair.

He began to buck his hips upward, searching for any friction as he grinded his hips against your own. He let out a soft whine into the kiss when you began to push down against him, intensifying the friction.

You rocked your body slightly back and forth, and Jace threw his head back against the sheets as his hands found their way to your hips, gripping desperately, and most certainly gripping hard enough to leave a bruise.

Suddenly, your chamber doors swung open again with no regard for your current predicament.

“Tell me this is a cruel jest from the crown. Tell me!” Cregan bellowed, completely ignoring your position and marching over to you, slamming a piece of parchment down on the bed next to where your body met Jace’s.

Jacaerys shot upward, and you grabbed the parchment, standing up and beginning to read the words.

“Who sent you this?” you asked.

“It matters not who sent it,” Cregan seethed, “is it true? I do not have the patience for more lies.”

“What’s going on?” Jacaerys chimed in.

“Cregan, you cannot seriously-“

“IS. IT. TRUE.”

“I-“

You were speechless.

“I knew it. I fucking trusted you, Y/N. I was going to marry you off to the heir to the Iron Throne and the entire time you’ve been fucking the whole of the North like some common smallfolk whore.”

“Do not dare speak to me as such, Cregan, I am still the Lady of this house and I will not be patronized-“

“Patronized?! You fucked the usurper king and yet your concern is your own ego?” Cregan spat.

Your eyes widened. “It says as such?”

“You did what?” Jacaerys chimed in.

“Tell him,” Cregan said, his tone low as he stepped closer to you, nearly poking your chest, “wit your way out of this one.”

You had never seen your brother so truly angry with you. You had of course had your fair share of disagreements and spats, but he had always opted to trust you above all else. News that he was incorrect in doing so, and that you had been lying to him despite it, angered him more than anything could.

You turned to Jacaerys, who was seated on the edge of the bed, hands firmly planted on either side of his body as though he were anticipating the need to rise at any moment.

“Let me explain,” you pleaded, “I-“

“Tell me you did not give your maidenhood to my uncle,” Jacaerys nearly begged.

“I did not,” you said, and he sighed in relief, but you continued, “I have not had my maidenhood for some time now.”

Cregan was seething, his nostrils flaring in anger as you turned toward him.

“Was it the one eyed prince, hm? Is he the one who sent you such writings?” you asked.

“The man may be a cunt, but I cannot fathom what reason he would have to lie so drastically,” Cregan responded, confirming your suspicions.

Jacaerys could not stop staring at you. He was subconsciously waiting for you to say this was all a cruel jest and move on, but only more hurt followed.

You turned back to Jace, taking a deep breath before finally admitting the truth.

“Aegon and I have shared intimacies, as I have with several men.”

Cregan threw his hands up in the air and turned around, stomping out of the room. He did not want to hear anymore, and he was so angry that he knew it would be best for your safety if he was not around you.

Jacaerys slouched in his seated position. His elbows rested on his knees as he rested his head in the palm of his hands.

He tried to speak several times, but only small sighs and gasps left his lips. He was rendered speechless. He did not even know how to move.

“Please say something,” you pleaded, showing an ounce of weakness for perhaps the first time.

He did not speak.

“I still very much wish to marry you,” you added.

Jace lifted his head to look at you, his eyes red and his features unreadable. “I cannot imagine what you could possibly do to make me not want the same,” he started, “and I can forgive you for hiding this part of yourself, if you choose to be honest with me now. But my uncle-“

“I know,” you cut him off, “I know.”

“Why?”

You sighed. You did not have a proper explanation. You simply did it because you wanted to and it felt right, something you feared Jacaerys would not understand.

“Your uncle and I have grown rather fond of one another, if I am to demonstrate candor,” you explained, seeing no point in holding anything back now, “but it does not diminish my fondness for you.”

“And Aemond? I would rather you have affection for Aegon, he is a genuine idiot, but Aemond-“

“I have not slept with Aemond.”

Jacaerys took a sigh of relief. He meant what he said: he would rather you have bedded Aegon than Aemond. Aegon slept with many women, and Jacaerys could not see how such an intimate act could truly be intimate with him. He believed that sex was not about connection for Aegon, but rather purely sexual. Though it still hurt, Jace remembered your confession of having been with several men, and hoped Aegon was just another one of the many.

Had you been with Aemond, however, it would have meant that Aemond had won. At least, that is how Aemond would have taken it.

“So you-“ Jacaerys swallowed, preparing his next words, “the rumors are true, you do work in brothels? You’re a- a-“

“You can call me a whore, it is not the dirty word that many make it,” you said, sitting down next to Jace and taking his hand in yours.

“Why?”

“I quite enjoy pleasure, as does everyone,” you said, happy that the mood was calming down, “I am simply not inclined to care about duty above it.”

“And Cregan did not know?”

“No one knew, though evidently the whole realm has had their suspicions.”

“How long have you-“

“Since before Aegon. A while.”

“So you are rather experienced, then.”

The statement-question caught you off guard. “I would say so, yes.”

“So you are well versed in pleasure.”

“I would say so, yes,” you repeated.

Jacaerys looked into your eyes. “I am trying desperately to be angry with you, but I cannot act like this does not excite me.”

Rarely did someone say something that truly blindsided you with surprise.

“You are not angry with me?”

“I am hurt you bed Aegon, but I will learn to move on from it. You whoring, however- I understand it should anger me, I truly do. Yet I cannot seem to make it do so.”

“I do not believe my brother shares your same sentiments.”

“Cregan is hot-headed, he will forgive in time,” Jacaerys tried to assure your nerves. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How did you return? Why did they let you back?”

“Your uncle granted me passage,” you answered.

“Why?”

“I ask myself that same question every few minutes,” you admitted.

“It is not because of his affections toward you?”

“You do not have anything to worry about, Jace.”

“My uncle is not chivalrous, it is unlike him to-“

“You need not worry, Jacaerys, please. No matter how I got here, I am here, with you, and Aegon remains in King’s Landing.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath before standing up and holding out his hand toward you. “We have a wedding to prepare, do we not?”

You smiled and placed your hand atop his.

✶

It felt like it was happening all over again.

You and Jacaerys rushed outside to see the wings of the majestic beast ruling the skies. Despite her feet planted atop the castle walls, her wings continued to flap, a way of ensuring she caught the attention of everyone in Winterfell.

The beast was unmistakable. She was the most beautiful dragon in all the realm, and her scales glistened like the sun. You had never seen her in the flesh, and even from a distance, she was breathtaking. So breathtaking, even, that you had not noticed the absence of her rider from her back, and could not find him moving around her body. He could be anywhere.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Cregan shouted, stomping out into the courtyard beside you.

“I- I don’t know,” you responded, honest.

“I thought we were done with this, sister,” he said, accusatory.

“As did I,” you shot back.

You waited, watching Sunfyre in awe and hoping her rider would soon make himself known. He did not know his way around Winterfell, and without the company of Sunfyre, he could be anywhere.

It was unlike Aegon to go anywhere without guarded accompaniment. Being here was a risk on his life, as he was not as skilled in combat as his brother. You could not think up a single reason for him to be in your home, unguarded.

He was unmistakable himself as his silver hair shone in the sunlight. The people of Winterfell were still, unable to look away from the man adorned in green as he spotted and approached you.

He stopped a few feet away from you, and Cregan leaned forward, but you held out an arm to still him.

Aegon bowed.

Aegon, the usurper king, bowed to no man. But he bowed to you.

“What do you want, Aegon?” Jacaerys called out.

“I see you have returned safely,” Aegon said, keeping his attention to you.

“You should not have let me go if your only intention was to repeat history and force me back,” you said.

“I wish not to force you,” Aegon said, “I wish for you to choose willingly.”

“Choose what?”

“To come back with me.”

You laughed. You could not help it. It broke the tension a bit, luckily, but it was not intentional.

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because I am asking you to.”

“You are not my king. You cannot decide these things for me.”

Aegon took a step closer to you. “Tell my little nephew what we did.”

“He is already aware.”

Aegon was taken aback. He did not expect you to be as genuine in honesty as you were in bickering matches.

You could see sadness and pain behind Aegon’s eyes. You two truly did share a genuine connection, and he was incapable of understanding why he couldn’t just get whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it. You were his exception to everything, and that was one of the best things about you, but also one of the worst.

Jacaerys did his best to look intimidating as he narrowed his eyes toward his uncle.

Even now, you could not help but take pity on Aegon. You did care about him, and it was a constant headsplit having to choose between two people you truly cared for.

“Stay for the wedding,” you suggested, the words leaving your lips the moment the thought popped into your head. There was no time for you to process it or think it through.

“Y/N, you cannot seriously-“

You cut Jacaerys off: “I am serious. Stay, Aegon, in good faith.”

“My mother will be in attendance and will not-“

“Jacaerys, please,” you stopped him.

“I cannot,” Aegon said, looking at the ground beneath his feet. The cold was staring to effect him, and his nose and cheeks were turning red.

“You can.”

“This is not a good-“

“Cregan, I can handle this.”

“No you can’t,” he sighed, matter-of-factly.

“I would happily accept lodging for the night. I think it best for me to return to King’s Landing in the morrow,” Aegon decided, defeated and incapable of fighting you.

You could not argue with his decision. It was a selfish offer to make on your part, and you only suggested it because you wanted both him and Jacaerys around.

You desperately wanted this to end well. It was only recently another Targaryen man had directed his dragon into your home, and that ended horrifically.

It was a paralleled situation, as if nothing had changed, only much had. Too much. There was no going back. You wanted to marry Jacaerys, but you could not send Aegon back to King’s Landing and pretend he did not exist.

Aemond could not do the same for you, either.

He loathed some parts of you, but they were the parts that acted as a mirrored reflection of himself.

He could not shake the feeling that he had met his match. He knew that the moment Aegon let you go, you would marry Jacaerys instantaneously, and the prospect of a pairing between you two would be vanquished. However, that did not mean he did not care for you, deep in the depths of his soul.

No one had ever posed a challenge to the great Prince Aemond One-Eye. You were the only one who could outwit him, who could speak to him as if you were not scared of him, and who could see straight through him.

He had worked his entire life to build himself into a lethal weapon, but you refused to see him as anything but a person. It drove him mad, but he knew that it was what he needed.

He did not care that his brother had had you. He did not care that Jacaerys would have you soon. He told the realm you were to be his, and he hated not staying true to his word.

He tried to cleanse the thought of you from his mind during the council meeting he attended, but unfortunately, the men of the council had other ideas.

Aegon had been gone for four days now.

You and Jacaerys were under the impression that he had left the morning after he had returned, but he was not in King’s Landing.

“My Prince, you must retrieve your brother. He is erratic and impulsive, I fear he may not leave on his own, and I fear he may only worsen our relationship with Winterfell.”

“You expect me to fly to Winterfell? Again?” Aemond asked, raising his voice on the final word.

“He will sabotage Jacaerys’s wedding, and you know it. We do not need anymore familial strife, Aemond,” Alicent tried to level with her son.

“It is not wise for it to be me.”

“Who else?” Alicent asked, “there is no one else.”

Aemond took a deep breath. He did not want to repeat history, but he had no choice. “Very well.”

────── ☾ ──────

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[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Burn Marks

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Warnings: Toxic!Larissa, mentions of pregnancy, angst, hopeful ending, hints of starving

Pt1

It destroyed you when she left you pregnant and with a hyper three year old who was full of questions of where her favoured mama is. It burnt your lungs with each lie you told her unable to state the truth afraid to scar the young girl the way you had been.

Soon enough your little boy Theodore had been born, named right after Larissa’s father who had the same blue eyes as her but your blonde hair. The more Delilah grew the more she shaped into Larissa the woman who had shattered your being.

Once Theo was old enough to attend Kindergarten you were off to rebuild the woman you once were, daily after the school drop off you hit the gym. You went back to school to study fashion something you had enjoyed, it was tiring but you wished nothing else.

At night the children would curl around you on the sofa as you read to them, a peace you had never felt before, a sense of security. Larissa had never tried to reach out not when Delilah had turned five or even ten, your children now sixteen and thirteen.

It took some time but finally you owned your own boutique while raising two children it was hard and sometimes you had to go without. Always making sure their little bellies were full, along the line you often wondered where Larissa was in life.

If she thought it was worth it

Now you sat across from her

“We’re here for our daughters enrolment”

Larissa shifted in her seat as she cleared her throat almost taken aback “right, I apologise” she nodded the air now thick. “So- uh how is she?” You shook your head “not quite the question Larissa” the woman couldn’t focus. Not when she had a straight view of your cleavage, not when you looked so great now she really began to regret.

“Look Larissa, I can help with Fundraisers whatever you need. Our daughters happiness means most so if you do anything to tarnish that” I threatened. “Everything will be paid in full by me and me only, I don’t want your charity nor your pity. You can fester in your guilt if you even feel guilty”.

“I said I was sorry Y/n” Larissa barked “I don’t care” you shrugged “you threw everything away! I gave every ounce of me up for you and you leave like our family was last weeks news”. You shot up from your seat “my body changing was only natural since I had your child! Me being tired was normal because I was working TWO jobs and RAISING OUR DAUGHTER, I WAS PREGNANT LARISSA!”

“I was pregnant and planning this wonderful life with you” your voice broke unable to face her “your actions burned me, they scar our children”. A sinking fell into Larissa’s chest “so tell me again how sad your life is, how hard it is now that you have to face your choices”

Call it Karma

“I loved you so fiercely that even two years after you left I would’ve welcomed you with open arms but no, we made our beds Larissa time to lay in them”

“I refuse to” the woman’s voice determined “well I have, I’m tired Larissa” you matched her energy “maybe I still love you”. You laughed at her words “love me? I thought you no longer love me isn’t that why you left? To find something bigger? Someone better? Or did you find only I would put up with your attitude?”

“You’re not being fair” Larissa stated only causing you to laugh “fair?” You faced her “I’m not being fair? Give me a break Larissa, fairness didn’t matter thirteen years ago when you up and split”.

Larissa knew you were right, of course you were you always had been and she knew she used you she didn’t feel bad about it.

“No you’re right but the past is the past Y/n or have you not changed?”

“Don’t humour me Larissa, I was forced to change. Our children needed at least one role model but you wouldn’t know what that’s like”

I was jealous she could pretend to be this great maternal principal when she was a horrible mother, she had abandoned her family. With a sigh I sat back down “it’s a crappy thing you did and I hope you can make amends with our children but for now any questions you have go straight to my assistant”.

Larissa cringed slightly “Your assistant?” You raised a brow “I’m not letting you back in so easily honey” resting against the back of your chair with a small smirk.

The blonde took it as a deal

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What - Part 14 | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: major injuries, blood, violence, cursing, angst

Summary: Sick of being toyed with, Lena takes action against her brother only for it to backfire in the worst way imaginable.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

“Ready?” Kara asks.

Lena nods and squares her shoulders, glancing my way for a second.

I give a thumbs up, albeit a bit halfheartedly and watch as Winn does some final tests on the microphone and camera.

It’s been two days since Lena got Lex’s letter. I have yet to read the whole thing, but judging by how she bawled when she was done reading it I can only imagine what he threatened to do if she doesn’t retract her testimony.

Instead of wallowing in self pity though, Lena decided that she wouldn’t let him manipulate her like this any longer which is why she’s now scheduled for an interview to reveal his plans of overturning his conviction to the world.

I’m not entirely sure this is the right thing to do because who knows how Lex will react, but when I brought it up to Lena she snapped at me.

I was irritated at first, but then she broke down crying again and said she had to do something because she couldn’t handle anyone getting hurt again, especially not me.

“Alright, we’re on in three seconds,” Winn says, joining me behind the camera. “Three, two, one. . .”

He nods and points a finger gun at Kara to signal that the camera is rolling.

The blonde fidgets with her glasses and looks at the notes in her lap before diving right into the interview.

She asks Lena about the breakout first, getting some information about how she found out about it before mentioning the letter.

Lena is tense and fidgets with her hands in her lap, but she’s doing her best to uphold a calm and confident appearance by sitting upright and keeping her face blank.

“Lex is a behind-the-scenes player,” she says. “He doesn’t like to act in the open and often pays people to do his dirty work for him which is why I set up this interview. People need to know what he’s up to.”

Kara nods, looking more serious than I have ever seen her.

She goes on to ask about the possible consequences of this interview and Lena tells her she hopes that Lex will back off for the time being now that the public is aware of what he’s trying to do.

They wrap things up rather quickly, Kara giving Lena a big hug once the cameras are turned off and Lena invites her over for dinner.

She also invites Winn, but he declines politely because he already has plans with James and William. They’re going bowling which is a once-a-month ritual for them and he already missed the last time they did it because he was sick.

The cameras and microphones are disassembled and packed away and within a couple of minutes we’re all making our way out of L-Corp.

It’s late which is why no reporters are around and Winn hails down a cab and bids us all goodbye as Alfred pulls up in the familiar black SUV.

I open the back door for Kara and Lena, waiting for them to get in before closing it again and getting into the front passenger seat myself.

I saw the longing look Lena sent me when she hesitated before getting in, but I didn’t get in with her because three people in the backseat would have been a tight squeeze and there wouldn’t have been much I could have done to comfort her with Kara around.

Alfred sends me a knowing look, obviously having caught onto the more-than-friendly relationship between Lena and I, but he doesn’t comment on it.

There’s not much traffic at this time of night, so we get to Lena’s place rather fast and I order some takeout while we’re in the elevator up to the apartment after agreeing on burgers and fries with Kara and Lena.

They take a seat on the couch, resuming their chat from the car about Kara’s new boss and I excuse myself, not wanting to intrude, and go to the guestroom.

I change out of my work clothes, putting my gun and holster on the nightstand and slip into a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt.

My back has healed nicely over the last couple of days and I can finally move again without being in pain anymore but there are still some fading bruises.

With a satisfied sigh, I jump on the bed and take out my phone, aimlessly scrolling through my camera roll.

I’m too tired to watch TV or read, so this will have to do.

I don’t have many pictures because after Noah’s death I haven’t really taken pictures of anything, but there are some pictures Lena took with my phone.

There’s a selfie she took with a dopey grin and me in the background passed out on the couch.

I didn’t know she took this and I smile when I zoom in on her face. Her eyes are sparkling with happiness and her cheeks are slightly flushed.

I love her, I think, but before I can bask in the feeling a message pops up.

It’s from my mom and I have half a mind to ignore it, but then I swipe down on it, freezing when I read what it says.

Your dad’s in the hospital. Heart attack. Please come. He was asking for you.

A heart attack? I’m not surprised, that mans been eating as though life insurance is free his entire life.

I don’t know how to feel, but I change into some more appropriate clothes either way and grab my gun off the nightstand.

I slip it into a different holster, fastening it to my belt before grabbing my phone and keys, making my way out of the room.

No matter how much he’s hurt me and how much I’ve told myself I hate him in the past, I still care about him.

He’s my dad for crying out loud, and before Noah’s death we were super close. He used to take me hunting and taught me how to play the piano, but since our falling out I haven’t done either of those things.

“Y/N? You ok?”

Kara looks at me with worry and Lena stops pouring herself another glass of wine in the kitchen to turn around and look at me, too.

Her eyebrows furrow when she takes in my getup and she rounds the kitchen island to tug at my jacket.

I don’t answer Kara. I just wave her off with a forced smile and focus on Lena.

“Where are you going?” she asks softly, fixing my collar before resting her hand on my chest.

I’m surprised by her open display of affection in front of Kara, but when I glance past her the blonde is watching us with the same knowing look Alfred had earlier.

Damn, are we that obvious? First Alex, then Alfred and now Kara?

I shake that thought and focus on Lena, hanging my head and putting my own hand over the one she has on my chest. “To the hospital. My dad had a heart attack,” I say softly.

Lena gasps and cups my cheek to make me look at her. “Oh my God. Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” I decline quickly. “No, stay here with Kara and enjoy yourself. I’m sure with my hogging all your time recently you have a lot to catch up on.”

I force another smile, also directing it at Kara before stepping out of Lena’s space and making my way to the door.

I don’t want company right now because I have to focus on figuring out how I’m feeling.

I grab my bike from the janitors closet down in the lobby and start pedaling toward the hospital. The air is cold and crisp and makes my skin prickle, but it helps me clear my head a bit.

Why is my dad asking for me? Does he want to make up? Or is he calling me over to tell me once again what a horrible person I am?

I turn down a narrow street when I notice the street ahead is blocked by a construction site and frown when I ride past a black, windowless van.

It seems odd and out of place being parked on the side of the road because no other cars are around, but as soon as I’m past it, I shrug it off and imagine what it will be like when I get to the hospital.

My mom will surely be waiting for me, but what about my dad? Is he in surgery? Is he just waking up from surgery? What if he’s not even alive anymore?

I’m so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I don’t notice the van I just rode past catching up with me until it’s too late.

I look over my shoulder when it gets dangerously close and shout, “Hey! Watch it!”

The driver doesn’t slow down though and before I can swerve out of the way, I’m rear-ended and I fly off my bike, skidding on the pavement until I come to a rolling stop.

My pants and jacket are torn in several places, revealing scraped patches of skin, but what hurts most is my shoulder because that’s what I landed on initially.

My head also feels like it’s about to burst and everything is blurry and I feel like throwing up.

I move to get up, noticing my knuckles are covered in blood, but I don’t get far because a heavy blow to the back of my head sends me sprawling back onto the ground.

I groan and blink in an attempt to get rid of the dancing black dots in my vision, but it’s of no use because not even a couple of seconds later I’m slipping into unconsciousness.

Something incessantly poking my ribs is what ultimately wakes me up and when I move to swat at it I find myself being unable to do so because my hands are bound above my head.

I force my eyes open and let out an involuntarily sob when the pain of being hit by the van begins to catch up with me.

My shoulder aches and I tilt my head back to see I’m strung up by my hands and chained to a rusty pipe. My feet are barely touching the ground which puts extra strain onto my shoulder and makes it hard for me to breathe.

I cough, wincing when a wave of pain shoots through me and look around, trying to make out where I am, but then a harsh spotlight is turned on and aimed at my face.

It’s so bright my eyes close reflexively and I turn my head with another wince.

“Finally! You’re awake. I was afraid Otis might have hit you just a little too hard.” A voice says and I strain to open my eyes again to see who it belongs to.

I almost scoff when I see who it is and let out a defeated sigh.

Of course it’s him.

“Lex Luthor,” I croak, my fingers flexing above my head in an attempt to ease the tug on my wrists.

“So you know who I am,” he says with a smirk, redirecting the spotlight ever so slightly so I can see him properly.

We’re in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Where we are and how much time has passed since I left Lena’s though is unbeknownst to me.

I don’t say anything and just watch him as he shoves one of his hands into the pocket of his dress pants. The dark three piece suit he’s wearing seems to shine in the low light and I can only guess how expensive it must be.

He smiles wickedly and goes to a rusty table I didn’t notice until now, dragging it across the wet concrete floor until it stands a couple of feet in front of me.

On it, he opens a laptop and connects it to a camera, aiming it at me before he starts typing something on the laptop.

My arms are starting to go numb and the longer I stay in this position the harder it gets to breath, so I grit out an irritated, “What are you doing?”

He looks up for a moment, smirking, before returning his attention to the laptop.

I thrash, making the chains rattle above me before settling back down with a shaky breath.

“What do you want from me?” I wheeze.

Lex finally stops typing and pulls out a phone, dialing a number but not calling it just yet.

“Oh, I don’t want anything from you,” he says. “You’re just a means to an end.”

I frown for a second before it dawns on me.

Lena. . . He’s using me to get to her.

“Yes, that’s right,” he says, watching me carefully. “My darling little sister seems to be quite infatuated with you and because I would never dare to lay a hand on her, what better way is there to get to her than through you.”

I feel physically sick and swallow the bile that threatens to rise in my throat. It’s beyond me how someone can treat their sibling like this, but then again, this is Lex Luthor we’re talking about and he’s not exactly known for being a devoted family man.

The smug look on his face makes my blood boil and I reflexively go to reach for my gun, but I quickly realize I can’t because my hands are still tied and when I glance down I see that it’s not even on me anymore.

Of course it’s not, I think before looking back up to meet Lex’s eyes.

He tilts his head, probably wondering what’s going through my head before sighing and calling the number he’s already dialed.

He puts the phone on speaker and when I squint I feel my stomach drop as I recognize my silver phone case.

I thrash around, knowing exactly who he’s calling.

Dread washes over me, clawing at my throat when a familiar voice answers, sounding distressed, and I have to close my eyes to will away my tears.

“Y/N! Thank God you’re calling. Where the hell are you? I was so worried! The hospital said—“

“Hello, darling sister,” Lex cuts her off, sounding eerily calm and it’s quiet on the other end of the line for a couple of seconds before Lena’s voice, now shaking, is heard again.

“Lex, what have you done to Y/N?” she whispers which makes him laugh.

He clicks his tongue in faux irritation and shakes his head even though she can’t see him. “My, my, my little one, what have I taught you about jumping to conclusions, hmm? I haven’t done anything. Yet. . . What happens next though is completely up to you.”

Silence, again.

Then. . .

“What do you want?” she asks quietly, broken. “Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt Y/N.”

“No, Lena!” I croak, tugging and pulling at the chain in an attempt to get close enough to kick Lex. All I manage to do is flail around like a fish out of water though, slipping and gasping when I try to regain my footing.

“Y/N?!” Lena sounds frantic when she hears my voice, but before I get to reply a stinging pain shoots up my side, leaving behind a throbbing ache.

I yelp and cough, straining to see what happened when my eyes land on a familiar figure, twirling a baseball bat around in his hands. It’s the same man that attacked me over a week ago.

“I’m sorry, but has no one ever taught you not to interrupt a conversation?” Lex chastises, holding out a hand to stop his goon from hitting me again.

I groan and close my eyes, trying not to focus on the pain running through me.

“Lex, I swear to God—!”

“Ah, ah, ah, Lena,” Lex cuts her off yet again. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to threaten me when I so clearly have the upper hand. Now, unless you don’t want your precious Y/N to get hurt any more, I suggest you do as I say.”

He pauses and waits for Lena’s response which ultimately comes in the form of a whispered, “Okay. . .”

“Perfect, now, the first thing I want you to do is turn on your laptop,” he says and a few seconds go by before Lena says that she’s done what he asked.

“Great, now just sit back and enjoy the show,” he says, hitting a few buttons on his own laptop before turning to me, saying, “Smile for the camera!”

I peel my eyes open and sigh when I spot the blinking red light on the camera.

Not even a second later, the bat makes contact with my side again and I yelp, tasting blood in my mouth when I cough.

“Y/N!” Lena’s voice over the speaker sounds frantic and I shiver, realizing she’s being forced to watch what’s being done to me.

God, we’re going to need so much therapy after this. . . Or at least she will because at the rate things are going, my chances of getting out of this alive are pretty low.

“Stop, it! Please, Lex. I already told you I’ll do whatever you want,” she sobs and no matter how much pain I am in, hearing her crying is a hundred times worse.

“Oh, I know,” he says. “I just wanted to demonstrate what will happen if you don’t.”

I huff and cough again, feeling a trail of blood run down the side of my chin.

Welp, that’s not good.

The thought of my parents cross my mind briefly and I wonder if they think I didn’t show up because I simply don’t care about them anymore.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, but I’m not exactly in a position to prove them wrong right now, so I’ll just have to wait and see how this plays out before I can find them and fix things.

“. . . and now because you’ve decided to share our business with the world, I not only want you to retract your testimony. I also want you to turn yourself in and tell the police you set me up and that you’re behind all the money laundering and human trafficking,” Lex rambles and my eyes widen at what he’s asking of Lena.

“You sick fuck!” I spit, kicking and flailing again before looking directly at the camera. “Lena, you’re not doing this! You’re not going to prison for things he did. You’re not going to prison for me—“

“Shut up!”

This time the bat hits my temple, but because my arms are raised above my head, most of the blow lands on my upper arm.

It leaves the same throbbing pain behind as the one on my side and my whole body begins to tremble. Something wet and sticky runs down the side of my face and my hands are completely numb.

I’m going to die here.

“Easy there, Graves,” Lex warns his goon, glaring at me for interrupting once again. “We wouldn’t want to add another murder charge to your file now, would we?”

The bulky man grumbles and lowers the bat so he can kick at it in front of him

“I’ll do it, Lex. I swear. Please just stop,” Lena sobs on the other end of the line, but I can’t just let her go down for Lex’s crimes.

“No!” I choke out, thrashing around until, surprisingly, the rusty pipe I’m chained to breaks in half.

I fall to my knees, crying out in pain before stumbling to my feet.

I’m breathing heavily, stunned that I managed to actually break free before springing into action.

My hands are still chained together but that doesn’t stop me from tackling Lex’s goon.

He howls in surprise and lets go of the bat when we topple over.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears and an unfamiliar rage cursed through me as I grab the piece of chain that tied me to the pipe and wrap it around his neck.

He thrashes beneath me, choking as his face turns red, but I don’t let up as I watch the life drain out of him.

Before I get to finish the job though, the muffled sound of a gunshot rings out and I let go of the chain with a scream, clutching at my side where it feels like I’ve been hit by the bat again.

I fall to the side, writhing in pain just to see Lex standing over me with my gun in one hand and my phone in the other.

I hear Lena crying hysterically over the phone, obviously having witnessed what just happened, while Lex is just watching me with a mix of pity and disgust.

“I really didn’t want to do this, Y/N,” he says as though he just caught a child stealing candy, “but you left me no other choice.”

I grunt and shake my head, feeling tears streaming down my face.

“Fuck you,” I whisper. “You’re a wretched human being and you don’t deserve Lena.“

Lex chuckles menacingly before turning serious within a split second. He drops my phone and kneels beside my head, yanking at my hair so I’m forced to look at him.

“And you’re a nobody,” he says calmly. “Lena might be completely infatuated with you right now, but in time she’ll realize how pathetic you actually are.

“I know more about you than you think. You got your brother killed and for the last year you’ve been wallowing in self pity because of it. Oh, and you’re poor, let’s not forget about that. No one likes a charity case.”

My chest tightens painfully and I gather whatever strength I have left in me to spit in his face.

He freezes before letting go of my hair to wipe the saliva off his face. Then he gets back to his feet.

For a second I think he’s heading back to the computer to turn off the live feed, but then he spins back around with a menacing howl and starts kicking me in the stomach.

I sob and try to protect myself with my still bound hands but it’s of no use.

Every time his foot buries itself in my stomach the breath gets knocked out of me until I’m on the brink of passing out.

He stops as quickly as he started and smooths out his suit, making sure his cuff links are still in place.

“You know what to do, Lena,” he says, waving at the camera on the table. “If you don’t I’m letting Y/N bleed out, so you better be quick about it because there’s not much time left until it’s too late.”

I don’t hear Lena’s reply over the phone because it feels like I’m floating and everything is muffled, but I manage to drag myself forward the tiniest bit to whisper, “I’m sorry, Lena. I love you,” into the phone before passing out.

________________________________________________

Oops. Are we dead? I honestly don’t know yet. . .

*Not proofread yet

Tag list: @nerethos @orange15quote @nuianced-tck-enby @autorasexy @unexpected-character @nothisismax @wandatasha

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

Officer Down | J.H.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: Jay takes a hit to the chest during a shootout and gives you quite the scare. Based on episode 6x2.

A/N: I finally wrote something!! (Shocking I know) it only took me 7 months but I’ve finally got a new fic for yall. I’m sorry for being so slow to write but the last 7 months have been ROUGH.

I’ve been wanting to write this fic forever and was finally inspired to finish it after rewatching the episode. I don’t really like how this turned out but that’s what happens after writers block I guess

Warnings: near death experiences, guns and shooting

Word Count: 637

-

This case had been difficult for the team, Jay getting hit his hardest with his dad being one of the victims on the fire. The longer the chase for the arsonist, the more you could see him spiraling. You expected it, all things considered. Jay may have said they didn’t have the best relationship, but it was still his father. What you didn’t expect was for Jay to disobey a direct order from Voight and go after the suspect on his own.

After you took his truck and two way, you thought he would be safe, far away from the action. So when you heard his call come in over the radio, your heart sank to your stomach.

“This is 5021 George. Emergency. Shots fired. Offender down, need an ambo. Lower Wacker and Columbus.”

As soon as you heard his location, you took off running, Kevin close behind. Rounding the corner, you saw Jay unmoving on the pavement, his side covered in blood.

“5021 Victor. Officer down. I repeat, officer down. Lower Wacker and Columbus. Get us an ambulance!” You rushed to Jay’s side, leaving Kevin to take care of the offender.

You tried to stay calm as you ripped open his shirt, panic threatening to override your training. You could see he was bleeding from his side, but you couldn’t tell what the damage was from the other bullets.

“Jay? Hey, talk to me.” Your voice wavered.

Jay was breathing heavily, looking at you with wide eyes. You pulled his vest away from his body, feeling under it for the bullet.

“It didn’t go through. It didn’t go through.” You pressed on the wound at his side with shaky hands. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

-

You watched intently as the paramedics patched up Jay in the back of the ambulance. There were officers all around you, blocking off the scene and questioning the other members of the team, but you tuned it all out.

Once the paramedics were done treating him and he had gotten a thorough scolding from Voight, you made your way over.

“Hey.” You took a seat next to him. “You gonna be okay?”

Jay looked at you sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m okay. No serious damage, just a few stitches and some major bruising.”

“Good.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t stop myself.” He said quietly.

You nodded lightly, giving him a small smile and patting his leg gently. “I know.”

The paramedic came back over and you used the interruption to excuse yourself. You could feel the aftermath of the situation setting in and you needed to get away from the scene.

You heard footsteps behind you and Kevin appeared at your side. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yep, I’m good. I’m fine.” You replied, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice.

Kevin put a hand on your arm, slowing you down and turning you towards him. “Woah, woah.” You couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you met his gaze. “Yeah, that’s the adrenaline wearing off. It’s okay.”

“I thought he was dead.” You choked out the words.

Kevin put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “So did I.”

As the two of you made it back to the cars, he brought you in for a hug. You gripped his shirt tightly, embarrassed by your crying, but soaking in the comfort after the emotions of the past hour. You knew out of anyone, Kevin would never judge you for being human.

“I gotcha.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. “C’mon, Sarge said we’re done for the day. Jay’s in good hands. I’ll drive you home.”

You spared one last glance back towards Jay as you got into the car, only to find him looking right at you, his face etched with concern.

-

Writing Masterlist

[t0ast-ghost]

Hmmm mmmmmm I have so many boys thoughts and since I’m not sleeping tonight I guess I’ll write them down:

(Spoilers for the Boys season 4. Don’t cry over spoiled milk show! Go watch it for yourself)

- Truthfully I didn’t like Hughie in the second episode they just made him (super forcefully) bring up his mom. I did really like all his other bits though especially the stuff we’re getting into with a-train (really hope they actually go through with giving him plot, since he’s supposed to be the main character and all that or whatever)

- every time a character got close to another I legitimately asked if they were gonna kiss

- butcher is my wet cat sad puppy murdering babygirl, he’s slaying this season by actually communicating and I hope it stays that way

- This is the second time I’ve seen Jeffrey Dean Morgan play a horrible person willing to weaponize children for their cause… and he’s good at playing that part (I feel they gave his character a lot of what Butcher was in the comics)

- I really do like what they’re doing with A-Train

- I really do hate what they’re doing with Annie and Firecracker, I get they have to have personal conflict but this feels shallow and although it’s believable that this grudge would last I think there should have been more thought put into the stakes of their relationship (Curry and Moriaty’s acting was so good for the bit where Firecracker threatens her but the stakes are so low and the hatred in the writing doesn’t feel built up enough for her to have that big of a reaction to the threat)

- Going back to Hughie and his mom, I think Quaid’s acting for the bits with his mom were phenomenal, I could relate to his frustration and his sadness was palpable. I think a lot of their moments didn’t feel great and I couldn’t put my finger on it but the conversation about how her depression lead to her leaving felt like the truth finally came out and now it’s hopefully going to feel a bit more like things are moving forward for them

- I’m a little surprised they actually had a character like splinter. Simply because he felt straight out of the comics, and I know how much they’ve veered away from the comics. I really liked the scene where Butcher got to take out a bunch of them simply cause he got to be good ‘ol Billy Butcher

- Homelander has me on a roller coaster because I was going to write a post while watching about how they write him really well in a mindfuck kind of way because you slowly start realizing you’re relating to his character and you can understand his actions, and right before I wrote that post he told the deep to suck off a train and I stopped dead in my tracks. I was legitimately scared in that moment because that also felt like something out of the comics but the difference is that the tv show wouldn’t or at least didn’t go through with it

- Homelander this season is even more brilliantly acted, and seeing him with Sage is a new interesting experience. I was trying to figure out Sage’s motivations and I thought I knew but really I didn’t know because I was trying to say she was fighting for a cause. That is wrong. She is constantly manipulating the people around her but it is solely to benefit herself and her happiness. Yes, she helps Homelander and is honest with him because that is the best way to keep herself happy and alive. She’s smart enough to know that manipulating him or trying to agree with everything he says will be a dead end. She’s still trying to please him and is ultimately playing by his rules but she’s the smartest player because she knows being inauthentic will only end up losing you power, and if you’re on the end of two hot glowing red orbs anyway, why not at least have an actual say

- The gore is going well so far. I’ve appreciated it. Especially the beetlejuice-esque scene where Kimiko has her face torn off and you only see the back of her head and the reactions

- Ryan has so many good scenes. His scenes with Homelander are punctuated by quiet, you can hear every thought screaming through, but what would saying any of it actually accomplish? His scenes with Butcher are so heartfelt, I’m glad they’re finally able to talk. But Ryan still dealing with his grief and guilt is heartbreaking. And on top of that him thinking that the closest person to his mom seemingly hates him and would never want him adds so much to the emotional confusion that he’s experiencing. He obviously needs to leave Homelander, but he still doesn’t want to leave his dad which makes sense because this is currently the only source of love he has from anyone and it was promised unconditionally (even though it is very conditional)

- Frechie’s gotta tell that guy that he killed his family but I was really glad they gave him a boyfriend. I forgot that him and Kimiko weren’t a thing so I got really excited that Frenchie was getting to be awesome and polyamorous. I am glad that Kimiko has asserted that they are friends tho

- I am so intrigued by the brain worm

Thoughts upon second rewatch:

- Opening could’ve been bloodier or more horrific. They toned it down :( but the flesh and blood melting off that guys face was pretty good. And the Todd scene is pretty horrific.

- The way Ryan and Homelander speak in unison about people being ants is so telling, and makes sense with the later context of Homelander wanting Ryan to be an exact replica of himself

- The way that Ryan in this season is so focussed on fear, because he is scared but the people around him won’t admit to that, so when Butcher finally communicates with him and tells him that he’s most afraid of dying without making amends I think that finally gains Ryan’s trust back

- They really are changing Butcher’s character, he’s not just ‘do thing to get thing and it’s justified by the end result’ he’s finally thinking about the people around him and considering them even if the results aren’t fast. He doesn’t give the info to Vick, he doesn’t drug Ryan, and he’s really trying to help even if he is still being a shit about it

- The talk between Vick and Homelander in the opening is sooooo good cause of HL’s little voice crack, he’s losing it

- KIMIKO PAINTS HER NAILS!!! they’re blue :)

- I feel like Hughie’s hatred towards Vicky is forced upon him. Like I guess he hates that she lied to him (but if he thought about it he’d realize that it’s reasonable for her to want to hide her powers especially since she’s been shamed about them for most of her life) and I get they have very different views with her under vought’s thumb and all. But since they’re recruiting A-Train I’m wondering if there’ll ever be a bit of a redemption for her cause I feel like wanting supes to be allowed to live like normal people is not a bad thing, it’s just that she’s working with people who view supes as superior

- “He killed that poor cunt in broad daylight, and they fucking cheered.” Alongside Homelanders “I save people, they cheer. I fucking kill people, they cheer.” is like, they both understand this fact. Homelander will get what he wants no matter what and Billy wants to take him down a notch. Same as always and yet so many changes.

- I missed that the acid that Hughie threw on Vick was Frenchie’s creation the first time around. Also missed Hughie’s failed pep talk, I love that loser. I didn’t miss that no one else is able to understand Kimiko, which sucks

- I want Karl Urban and Simon Pegg to be in the same room again but that’s just my star trek fan talking

- Is that the first time Hughie and Butcher properly hug in the series?

- There’s a weird obsession with phones this season. Especially with hanging up on people. Also an obsession with “no/yes, sirs” which I think is them upping the show of power dynamics

- I thought that octopus sounded familiar. It’s Tilda Fucking Swinton.

- “He always knew he was destined for greatness, because he came from greatness.” Good job guys. I see your little joke

- I did not notice that all the guys setting up Firecracker’s stage were splinter who is played by Rob Benedict (Chuck in Supernatural)

- One of the background noises at the Truthcon mentions an “Alex Jones look alike contest”

- When Ryan throws Koi against the wall in other shows that would be his turning point. The point in which there’s no going back for him. So I’m really glad that it’s just the point in which he needs to talk to someone, that it really does upset him. Unfortunately he goes from one horribly emotionally repressed man to a slightly less emotionally repressed man who is dying

- I hope whoever that person that Kimiko knows turns into a new found family member

- M. M slowly realizing why Butcher was such a bitch to everyone on the team. And it’s because no one listens. Ever. Unless you’re actively threatening them in one way or another

- I don’t know what that bloody metal rod in Sage’s room means even after a rewatch. So I guess I’ll find out.

- Closing thoughts; bring in more A-Train and Hughie moments (also get people to call him Reggie so I don’t have to write A-Train every time)

Hughie has weed in his desk

If y’all wanna talk about this with me (especially after reading all that) feel free to do so

Uhhh more thoughts here

[natlacentral]

Avatar: The Last Airbender Season 2 Officially Kicks Off Production

The war against the Fire Nation is far from over. Back in March, Netflix announced that Avatar: The Last Airbender has been renewed for Seasons 2 and 3, which will conclude this epic story. Now that process commences: production has begun on Season 2 — and Toph has been cast.

“We’re looking forward to working with all of our actors again and digging into the deeper, more complicated relationships that develop as their journey continues in Season 2,” executive producers Christine Boylan and Jabbar Raisani tell Tudum. “We are going to show the real-world versions of iconic scenes from the original, and explore some of the stories that the animation didn’t. Mainly — we’re looking forward to seeing our gang all together again.”

Keep reading below to find out everything you need to know about the second season of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

What is Avatar: The Last Airbender Season 2 about?

The EPs are keeping details about Season 2 close to the vest, but they did tease that we will see more of the Earth Kingdom. 

“There’s no war in Ba Sing Se,” they explain, referencing a line from the original animated series. “For the Gaang, fans can expect more brilliant plans from Sokka [Ian Ousley], even more masterful bending from Katara [Kiawentiio], Appa and Momo to be as fluffy as ever, and Aang [Gordon Cormier] to learn a new bending form (or two).”

In general, Raisani and Boylan are excited about building on the strong foundation of Season 1. “We’re going to challenge our characters with more complex and nuanced obstacles as they navigate a more tactile world,” they continue. say Boylan and Raisani. “Just as the animated series matured and progressed, the live- action will also take these characters and worlds and grow them.” 

But with a new season comes the opportunity for fresh faces.

What new characters will be introduced in Season 2?

At Netflix’s Geeked Week 2024, it was announced that Miya Cech will join the cast as Toph, a master earthbender.

What happened in Avatar: The Last Airbender Season 1?

A live-action reimagining of the acclaimed Nickelodeon animated series, Avatar: The Last Airbender follows Aang, a young boy who’s the titular Avatar –– which means he’s the only one capable of mastering all four elements (air, water, fire, and earth). In Season 1, Aang wakes up after a 100-year slumber to discover he’s the only surviving Aairbender. The world is being threatened by the imperialistic Fire Nation, which wiped out every other airbender and is working to subjugate the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes. With the help of his newfound friends Katara, a waterbender, and her brother Sokka, Aang sets off on a journey to restore balance to this fractured world. 

Aang and his companions achieve a Pyrrhic victory in the Season 1 finale. Sure, they were able to stop the Fire Nation — led by Prince Zuko (Dallas Liu), his uncle Iroh (Paul Sun-Hyung Lee), and Commander Zhao (Ken Leung) — from destroying the Northern Water Tribe, but it was merely a distraction from the larger war. Miles away, Zuko’s sister, Princess Azula (Elizabeth Yu), conquered Omashu, one of the two Earth Kingdom cities that had managed to stave off the Fire Nation until now, and took King Bumi (Utkarsh Ambudkar) prisoner. As if that wasn’t devastating enough, a mid-credit scene reveals that Sozin’s Comet, a rare cosmic event, is on the horizon, which can’t mean anything good for our heroes.

“I thought it was really clever of the writers to end Season 1 in that way, because you want to get a sense that the universe of the show is expanding with every season,” Daniel Dae Kim, who plays Zuko and Azula’s ruthless father, Fire Lord Ozai, told Tudum in February. “And they really did a good job of that with that cliff-hanger and also created a sense of urgency and time.” 

“Always leave the audience wanting more,” Lee added. “I just had chills seeing Lizzy as Azula. You’ve got King Bumi in shackles, and it’s just like, ‘Oh, there’s so many cliff-hangers.’ I was like, ‘Oh, I want to shoot Season 2, 3 right now.’ ” 

Thankfully, he’s getting his wish. 

Keep checking back here for more information about what’s to come for the Aang gang. In the meantime, you can watch the cast’s adorable audition tapes below.