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lurkingshan · 7 months

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Once again I'm here because I'm angry. There's been a lot of talk about Boston and what Jojo wanted or not to say about sluts and whatever. I, and other people I think, were struggling with the idea that Jojo would actually want that message out. So I went to see some interviews. And got kinda shocked about one thing that he said. (btw this is an actual quote.) He was talking about Boston reasons for his behaviour Jojo: Bad people don't need to have a backstory. They are just born sluts. A bad character doesn't need... (and then the interviewer says - he doesn't need tragedy to be bad) Exactly. And then he gets asked if he thinks Boston needs redemption and he emphatically says NO. And then talking about how much fun is writing the character he says this: Boston is such a fun character to write. yeah unpredictable he's like, he doesn't care. he doesn't have morals so we just like goes with the flow. bad people? no morals? humm... i don't know... So yeah, now I don't really know what to think about it. I was wondering what are your thoughts about this. I'm still gonna watch some more of this, because I'm a masochist that needs all the information, but yeah, I thought I would share. Thanks for the space

Yiiiiiikes. Okay, first let me preface this by saying that whenever I am reading/watching something that was either translated to English or spoken in English by a person with a different first language, I try not to get too hung up on specific word choice. By necessity we tend to go for the simplest possible words to convey meaning in those situations, and thus a lot of nuance gets stripped out.

That said, the sentiment is clear: Jojo saw Boston as a villain character without a moral code that he could deploy to cause chaos wherever he liked in the story. And he is definitely conflating his villainy with sexual promiscuity, which is the worst part of this quote and unfortunately aligns with the way that finale, and ultimately the themes of the show, were written. It definitely makes me side eye Jojo and as I’ve already said, I won’t be so inclined to trust him nearly as much next time.

Only Friends, however, has more than one writer, and I don’t think they all see it this way. If you think Boston is purely an irredeemable slut, you don’t write his breakup and reunion with Nick in the way that this show did. You don’t give depth to his situation with Atom. You don’t show his sincere emotion, his hurt, and his earnest desire to be with Nick while he can. With all the info we have now and in retrospect, it kind of feels like there was a bit of a tug-o-war going on with Boston’s story.

My understanding is that Den Panuwat, one of three writers on the show, is the one who adapted the novel version of the story, and there he changed Boston’s final arc significantly. Rather than Boston fucking Atom, he made his final conflict about his dad’s political career with Boston’s sexuality being used as a weapon against him. He wrote Boston and Nick ending on good terms. And he wrote a final chapter for Boston where he arrives in New York, finds a more accepting society and queer community who accept and understand him, and thrives.

I’m sure there were some non-artistic reasons why we couldn’t get this version of the story in the show (the politics story was likely vetoed for censorship reasons and they probably couldn’t afford to show us Boston in NY, for example), but the fact that Den wrote it signals that his perspective on Boston is not fully aligned with what Jojo said in that quote above. Perhaps we have him to thank for the empathetic portrayal and humanity we did see in Boston despite Jojo’s perspective on him. And Den has another show coming soon, so maybe we’ll see a clearer read of his own perspective on queer sexual politics without the GMMTV restrictions when we watch Playboyy.

#only friends the series #playboyy the series #thai bl #shan answers

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instructionsnotincluded · 3 months

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True North - Sneak Peek (John "Bucky" Egan x Original Female Character)

Ok so after a handful of messages yesterday, I was feeling inspired and a little excited about the possibility of a new fandom and may have binged some of Masters of the Air late last night. I'm not quite sure where it's going to end up, but here's part of the first chapter. Testing the waters (or clouds?) to see if there's even any interest in it. OR if it's just total shit, since it's a new era I've never written for before. (If so, we can just pretend this never happened, hahaha.)

Pairing: John "Bucky" Egan x Original Female Character

Length: 1935 Words

Warnings: Language, military inaccuracies, writer flying by the seat of her pants as she tries to research more about WWII and pilots, mentally cursing herself for not paying closer attention in history class, 18+, MDNI.

“You’re flyin’ today, Frank!”

The loud accented voice filled her ears, the brunette squinting her eyes closed tightly as she heard footsteps echoing all around the shared room, the sounds of trunks opening and closing joining in a moment later. She’d just been on the verge of a delicious dream with Gary Cooper’s character from The Westerner when Dorothy Skylar’s voice interrupted their suggestive conversation, her friend rudely butting into the fantasy.

“If you don’t get up, they’ll give your spot to the boys!”

“Ok!” Frank lifted her arm into the air, waving it around to signal she was, in fact, alive, “ok! I’m up—I’m getting up. Keep your panties on.”

“We call ‘em knickers ‘round here, love!” Dorothy’s laughter bounced along the walls, mixing in with the various posters, postcards, photos, and letters pinned above each of the beds, “if you’re going to talk about them, get it right!”

“You are all so irritating,” Frank shifted into a sitting position, the thin strap of her silk tank-top falling over her shoulder as she pressed the heel of her palm into her eye, “does no one like to sleep in anymore?”

“Haven’t had the luxury in years, darling,” Dorothy finished buckling her belt, pausing briefly in the full-length mirror as she adjusted the pins in her curls, “while you Americans have been ignoring what’s been going on across the Atlantic, we’ve been living this nightmare for years.”

“Well—at least it’s a shared one now,” Frank rested the back of her hand against her mouth as she stifled a yawn, “alright, I’m getting up. Where am I going?”

“Thorpe Abbotts,” Dorothy glanced over her shoulder to look at Frank as the shorter woman moved around her bed and over to her trunk, pushing aside piles of unfolded clothing to find her uniform, “should be a quick flight, you’ll be back before dark.”

“Maybe,” Frank disrobed and redressed once her undergarments were secured, Dorothy averting her eyes as Frank changed before messing with her hair, “we’ll see—last time I flew the airfield manager wouldn’t let me off the plane until he’d spoken to at least three men, one of whom was ranked lower than me.”

Dorothy only hummed, both women more than aware of how difficult it could sometimes be ferrying planes to and from airfields and bases, especially if the Americans were involved. It was still shocking to most men that women flew—and while the program in the US was slowly getting off the ground, the British had fully embraced female pilots, the Air Transport Auxiliary allowing women to help ferry new, repaired, and damaged aircraft between factories, plants, airfields, and squadrons. Frank had jumped at the chance to fly, to do something for the war effort that wasn’t working in a factory—she had well over four-hundred hours of flight time in the US, and while the United States Army Air Forces wasted time debating on whether or not you needed a dick to fly, she bypassed the red tape and joined the ATA shortly after Jacqueline Cochran led the first group to England. Fast forward two years later and Frank found herself an active member of the No. 6 Ferry Pool, doing whatever she could, whenever she could.

“Are you going to see that boy of yours?” Dorothy asked, nodding towards one of the folded letters on Frank’s nightstand, the corner of it peeking out from under one of her journals.

Frank shook her head as she finished buttoning up her flight suit, the material heavy, thick, and too big for her frame before sliding on the sheepskin jacket. That was another thing about being a female pilot—there weren’t any uniforms to fit the female body, the material often baggy on her arms and legs, but tight across her hips. “He went down a few months ago over the North Sea,” Frank mentally scolded herself for not tossing the letter after she heard the news. They hadn’t been that close—a few afternoon dates when she found herself on overnight trips to London and he happened to be there, brief memories of them sneaking around hallways, bodies pressed up against walls as they sought comfort and distraction in one another. He was from Texas and smelled like home, reminding her of easier times when she was away at college, just trying to find direction in life. But like that experience, he was gone and she was left to figure out which way was North once again.

“Frank…”

“It’s fine,” Frank reached for her bag, Dorothy pausing at the doorway, eyes cloudy with regret as she watched her friend pass her, pressing the heavy wooden door open as both women stepped out into the hallway of the dormitory the ATA housed them in, “it’s war.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t mean something…that it doesn’t hurt…”

“I thought you were British,” Frank pushed the emotion and tears away, scolding her heart for clenching as she turned to walk backwards, pressing a finger onto Dorothy’s badged chest, “aren’t you supposed to ‘stiff upper lip’ everything?”

Dorothy only rolled her eyes, the girls exiting the building a few moments later, the cloudy gray English sky greeting them as they crossed the pathway towards the waiting trucks, “have I ruined your flight time?” Dorothy asked quietly once they were in the back of the jeep, eyeing her friend as Frank leaned heavily against the side, “you’re not going to be distracted are you? You’re flying a Class 5 aircraft today—you need to be focused.”

“I’m fine,” Frank waved her off, “and even if I wasn’t, I’d be fine once I’m in the air. Trust me, that’s the only place my mind doesn’t wander.”

Dorothy didn’t appear convinced, but didn’t push the matter, the girls sitting in silence the rest of the ride to the airfield. Planes dotted the landscape, the tower looming in the background. Most of the planes would find homes on other bases or airfields, another tool for the boys to use in their battles. For a while it felt like production was stalling, they had so few to ferry around, but it seemed in the last year or so it had definitely picked up, so many different classes of aircraft ready to be delivered to the Allies. Frank hadn’t yet flown into Thorpe Abbotts, the Royal Air Force station just a handful of miles to the east of Diss, Norfolk. It was fairly new, having been built the previous year, but once the United States Army Air Forces took possession of the airfield, it seemed like activity was picking up.

The boys at Thorpe Abbotts seemed to be going through planes like candy, and Frank was pretty sure this was their fifth ferry to the airfield in less than two weeks. Typically they flew to the smaller satellite bases once a month, maybe twice if there were mechanical issues, but five times in two weeks? Something was definitely going on in East Anglia. She’d heard low rumblings of the amount of planes that went down during their missions from the British pilots—the men criticizing the Americans for bombing during the day rather than waiting until evening. One conversation she overheard at dinner a few weeks ago seemed to be about the recently arrived 100th Bombardment Group and how they kept losing men to dumb tactical decisions. “It’s war,” one of the heavier accented men had said, slumped backwards in his chair as he rested a beer on the table, “you do what you need to survive.”

“...are you listening to a word I’m saying?”

Frank’s eyes snapped back to those of Commander Dorothy Skylar’s, the three gold stripes she wore on the shoulder strap of her jacket seeming to catch in what little sunlight they had today, making Frank’s two stripes seem even less important than they already felt. “Yes, sorry,” Frank shook her head and the memories away, forcing herself back into the present, “I was just thinking about Thorpe Abbotts and some of the conversations that I’ve heard in passing about it.”

“They’re losing men and planes at a rapid rate of speed,” Dorothy nodded, glancing down at the folder of papers Frank just realized the woman was carrying, “I don’t think this will be your last ferry there.”

“No,” Frank turned her head as she watched the massive Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress come into view, eyes slowly taking in the matte green of the plane, white lettering and stars decorating the wings and body, “no, I don’t think it will be either.”

The girls scrambled out of the jeep when it came to a stop, their male driver neither acknowledging nor checking with them before he sped off, Dorothy just barely clearing the rear left bumper as he turned. “Fucker,” Dorothy whispered under her breath as they crossed the tarmac, “we fly planes and he drives a jeep—yet we’re still the gum under his shoe.”

“Men are babies,” Frank said as she approached the plane, left arm extending to slide across the edge of the wing, “they move from one tit to another, starting with their mother’s, until they die.”

Dorothy laughed, shaking her head as she watched Frank move through the checklist she had memorized by now, a few of the engineers hovering nearby if needed. A younger woman, who appeared to be just barely over eighteen approached quickly a handful of minutes later, clipboard pressed tightly to her chest, “Stella Frank?”

“Captain,” Frank corrected her, the girl almost shrinking back in on herself as she looked over at Dorothy for approval, but the higher ranked commander only stared back blankly, “it’s Captain Frank.”

“Yes—yes, Captain Frank,” the woman shuffled a few papers around as Frank came to stand beside Dorothy, both women waiting as she handed over a thin packet of instructions, hand shaking as she did, “here are your pilot notes, I’m so sorry they weren’t delivered sooner.”

“Thank you…” Frank waited expectantly but the girl didn’t appear to catch on that Frank was waiting for her name, and instead smiled politely at both women before scurrying off.

“Must you be so brash all the time?” Dorothy asked once the girl was out of ear shot, “I think today’s her first day.”

“Then she’s lucky she stumbled across me,” Frank flipped open the folder, eyeing the notes that gave her heading and speed instructions, as well as landing information, “if it’d been Ryan or Phillips she’d be on a plane back to the states right about now with wet knickers.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dorothy squinted up towards the sky, “you better get on with it—you’re due at Thorpe Abbotts in a few hours. You might get held up for a bit after you land, I think you’re ferrying back one of the planes that took heavier fire, so be safe.” Frank saluted her commander and Dorothy only rolled her eyes, “and watch for the fog, alright? I don’t know if Carol put it in the notes, but the fog around the airfield is sometimes incredibly thick. The boys may not see you until you’re landing.”

“And they have seen a woman before, right?” Frank lifted her eyebrows and Dorothy only shrugged playfully, “this isn’t one of the groups where there’s hardly any women on base and I’ll feel like a monkey at the zoo, right?” Dorothy took a few steps back in the direction of one of the metal buildings along the tarmac, a wide smile across her face. Frank only raised her voice to be heard, “right?”

“Don’t fall in love, Captain!” Dorothy called back, “we’ll see you back later tonight.”

#Masters of the Air Fanfiction #mota fanfic #john bucky egan fanfiction #John Bucky egan x oc #Bucky Egan fanfiction #John Bucky Egan x reader #John Egan Fanfiction #Bucky Egan Smut #John Egan Smut #John Egan x ATA!Pilot

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morethansky · 1 month

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As promised, my thoughts on Tech's fate.

If you think they changed their minds about revealing Tech to be alive, you might not want to read this. I'm not trying to debate or dissuade anyone; this is just my personal take.

Also, please be forewarned that this is quite Hunter critical. I love to write the man, but god, he’s so bad for my blood pressure.

This is still such a hard thing for me to talk about. To be honest, I ducked out of the TBB fandom between the time when i finished “i keep what i can of you” and S3 started because it felt like I couldn’t say what I thought without either hurting the people who thought Tech was dead and were traumatized or inciting the wrath of those believed he was alive, some of whom got so haughty and/or oddly hostile whenever any other possibilities were stated in their vicinity. It seems that after I left, the opposite started happening too? The hellish fandom ouroboros.

Anyway, so here are my unfiltered thoughts, because I might explode if I don't write them down. After I watched “Plan 99,” I thought Tech was dead, and I was extremely traumatized and hysterical about it. I remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and I stayed up till morning trying to process the sense of betrayal I felt and figure out what to do with the sweet little WIP I had been working on, which was about Tech and Wrecker facing the concept of death for the first time. (I have now rewritten it to be much darker but for Tech to live, and as CX-2, so I hope that proves I mean well with this post.)

Because it’s me and it’s media, I was not only traumatized but also furious. To be frank, I’m not usually this deeply affected by character deaths. I have written a lot of major character death fics and grief/mourning is a component of like 60 percent of my writing. In fact, when character deaths are done well, I think they’re fantastic. The worthy, well-done ones can make the characters shine even more brightly.

That is not the case here. Tech dies for literally nothing. The protagonists don’t achieve anything at all from it besides returning to square one, less a member. They don’t find the coordinates to Tantiss. They don’t find anything about who Hemlock is or what the Advanced Science Division does. They don’t overhear any vital intel from the meeting with all the Imperial bigwigs. They don’t gain any insight from Saw. They don’t even find out whether Crosshair was actually in captivity and whether his saying Plan 88 was him laying a trap for them or not.

And that is some of the worst messaging I’ve ever seen in a Y-7 American action cartoon. And believe me, I’ve watched a lot of them.

Allow me to beat the dead horse one last time. Finally, after two entire seasons of the show, a member of the main cast is like, “Hey, remember how Crosshair used to be one of us? Even if he kind of sucks, shouldn’t we help him? He did just try to warn us.” And I was ECSTATIC. Didn’t expect the autistic character to be the one to be like, no, fuck you, we should do the right thing no matter the risk (autistic characters are so often morally gray and it’s so frustrating), but I loved it so much! That’s me!!

…And then he literally dies because he wanted to do the right thing. Hunter, the character who does not want to help people, who rejects the idea of going to Eriadu and has to be convinced otherwise, IS PROVEN CORRECT. What the ever-loving fuck is that messaging? That’s right, kids—if you selflessly try to help other people, you’ll be killed. So maybe don’t bother, actually. And this show just underlines that message over and over again! The only people who matter are those you consider family. Everyone else can rot. In fact, people who are willing to risk their lives to help people are foolish and idealistic. The things Hunter says to Echo are repeatedly so fucked up ("When will it be enough?" Dude wtf???), and it's nuts that the show doesn't offer Hunter's narrow-minded perspective as a contrast to Echo's determination to do the right thing—it offers Echo as a contrast to Hunter's motivations to retire (which we understand because when the two of them split up, we follow Hunter instead of Echo—and not even in addition to Echo! He only shows up again because he's visiting Hunter's story!).

That’s straight-up American conservative ideology. I will never not be pissed at them for making the fucking deuteragonist—and a clone character at that—like that. And in Star Wars! The franchise that is overwhelmingly and consistently about fighting fascists! Made by the company founded and based in the Bay Area, the most progressive region of the country!!!

To be frank, I almost turned the TV off right then. But I thought, okay…a horrible way to get to it, but…maybe now is the moment? Maybe now they’ll finally join Echo and Rex, and be super determined to find Tantiss and Crosshair and the many other clones whose designations were on the roster—to complete the mission that Tech so passionately insisted on before he sacrificed himself.

BUT NO! Hunter immediately pressures Omega into going to Pabu. And why wouldn’t he? The narrative proved him right! By trying to do the right thing, Tech died. So we’ll just go back to ignoring the suffering of countless beings across the galaxy, including our own kind. Millions of straight-up metaphorical versions of us. Cool.

And then Omega gets captured. So because Tech wants to do the right thing, he dies, and because Omega agrees with him, she gets taken away. And then suddenly Hunter puts away Pabu entirely and becomes super gung-ho about finding her. Which is just…why did they write him like this. Why did they even have the conversation about Pabu?? Leaving it out would have made Hunter's motivations flow so much better. Because by introducing that, they invite the crucial question: Why was that what it took for him to stop running but losing Crosshair and Tech didn’t??? Because he only cares about this one child's well-being and it's his single motivation as a character???

A contingent of Crosshair fans have seemed to vocally dislike Hunter from the start because he left Crosshair, and I’m like no, you don’t understand. It’s not about the character, it’s about the writing. In some cases, it does end up being the character rather than the writing, and you can usually tell because the writing condemns that in the character. Not here though! Hunter's decisions throughout the show are celebrated by it. And Hunter gets his way, as we see now with them retiring on Pabu and ignoring the fight even as "the Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever." Thank god the finale at least posited that Echo was also right, which is kind of like the bare minimum they could've done in that regard.

So Tech’s death hit me particularly hard because it felt like just a waste of two entire episodes, a waste of an enjoyable character they had just given some really poignant depth, and a waste of the chance to give Hunter the character development I was desperate for—and also like a betrayal, a slap in the face, because it was like the show was saying that heroes are stupid, that Tech was foolish for wanting to do the right thing. Which is nuts given the rest of the SW animated oeuvre. And is fucking hurtful. And bad for kids.

So when the theories about Tech’s survival started floating around that night, I thought, okay, yeah, maybe this was such a stupid death and waste of screen time because it’s to set up something really cool. I could get behind that, even if the entire setup would still be faulty and honestly kind of repulsive to me.

I engulfed everyone’s theories in those weeks I spent mourning, desperate to be convinced—but as much as I wanted to believe there was a plan at work, I just couldn’t buy it 100 percent because…would the people who wrote this awful arc, and who made all the oddest choices possible at any given time throughout both seasons thus far, really intend to set up and execute something so well thought out and complex?

Of course not. People kept being like, “We have to trust the writers. They have a grand plan. They wouldn’t just throw away Tech. It would be ableist, and that’s why he’s not dead.” Like??? The show was already ableist! One of the main characters is disabled and his being disabled is specifically relevant to why he’s even in this squad and in this show—and it’s never remotely discussed! The closest is the most oblique reference ever to how Echo doesn't like to be alone. That's it. Just because they actually managed to write this wonderful moment about Tech being autistic doesn’t mean their track record was suddenly irrelevant! Killing off their neurodivergent character is exactly the kind of ableist shit they would do! And see now: Crosshair's hand. Also Echo suddenly having a hand after not having one for so long and it being completely untouched upon. It's par for the course!

So the Tech Lives theories all hinged on the writing being really clever, but I just. Already hated so much of the writing, and it felt way more likely that they were just continuing to be bad writers and continuing to go with the poorer plot choice option every single time they had the opportunity to go a direction that would be thought provoking and emotionally affecting.

I felt very much and very sadly proven right when the season started, and we got no mention of Tech being dead until the FIFTH episode. The Batch never talked about Crosshair and why he tried to kill them, so I guess why would they talk about Tech dying, sigh. And it was so bizarre how people were arguing that Omega and Crosshair's little exchange about Tech was super touching and gave us everything we needed. It absolutely did not! The fact that we couldn't agree on whether Crosshair even knew tells you everything you need to know about the wacky writing choices! Why was it so vague?? They literally could have added one word:

Crosshair: Did they teach you plan 72? Omega: Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans, before... Crosshair: Of course he did.

On that note, I began to feel uneasy about the fandom again, because it started feeling like an echo chamber, and I was worried everyone was getting too hyped about something that might not happen, and even if it did, might end up being some kind of poorly done fanservice. I started seeing a lot of defensive posts being like, “Well, the reason they’re not mentioning Tech is because he’s not dead, and you’re an idiot, unlike me, if you’re falling for their sneaky tricks.”

Like??? The prevalence of ride-or-die sentiments like that started making me feel like I was losing my grip on reality and watching a completely different show from everyone else. Wouldn’t the dramatic effect of Tech being alive be strengthened by the characters all mourning him, thus making us mourn him, thus making the plot twist that he’s alive even more effective?? Wouldn't the characters being shown to be affected by his death instead of just ignoring it be the most promising sign of his impending return?

To me, the characters not mourning Tech meant that the writers had put him aside and moved on (which is, again, terrible writing because it doesn’t give the viewers the space to grieve and then move on, and it makes the characters feel terribly heartless, which, well. At least they were consistent). And that blasé moving on made the possibility of him being dead WAY more likely to me. Of course they would kill their neurodivergent character and then just all but pretend it didn't happen. Of course they would act as if he had just been a convenient plot device! Of course they would only bring him up and act like they missed him when he wasn't there to miraculously do the characters' work for them and the writers' work for them! Fuck that so hard.

So then “Infiltration” and “Extraction” were a big surprise! I was like, oh, huh, guess I was totally wrong and they’re really doing it, wow. Okay, let’s see if they can actually pull it off. I liked the writing a lot better this season, so it felt more plausible that they were finally getting down to business. The fact that the clues felt so heavy handed was kind of weird to me, and I complained a lot about there not being red herrings, but I love a good Came Back Wrong story, so I was willing to believe I had been too pessimistic and cynical, as I often am.

After “Bad Territory” and “The Harbinger,” however, I started doubting it again. Fitting both this M-count mystery that had already taken up so much screen time plus a Tech Lives mystery just felt like a lot of ground to cover, and this was the show that couldn’t even seem to fit more than five seconds of the main characters being sad about the death of their squad mate. Did they really have what it would take to pace it?

Of course not!!!

After “Point of No Return,” I started to feel like if they did bring Tech back, it would be at the cost of it being done poorly. And to me, for his purported death AND his resurrection to be badly written would be way worse than just the former. And the draw of the whole Winter Soldier deal is the fallout; the guilt and doubt the characters harbor; the way they have to reckon with the fact that even if their loved one is back, they will never be the same again, because they did die in a way—and the less time allotted after a reveal like that, the fewer of those key things there would be, which would just make it feel so tacked on for cheap shock value and social media chatter. Especially because there had been so little buildup to such a thing at the beginning of the season. These writers' abilities are just not remotely close to Ed Brubaker's, y'all.

Then Rampart being introduced afterward felt like the death knell (oop) because it was a new plot thread they would need to wrap up by the end. But the Clone X thread was still dangling, so I felt like it wasn’t out of the question. But I guess after my complaints about the Tech connections being too obvious and there needing to be more red herrings, it turned out that the Tech connections themselves were the red herrings.

Although I feel like that's probably even giving the writers too much credit. I don't know if I really believe they were trying to mislead us. I feel like they just clumsily ended up doing things that coincided with the Tech Lives theories. Like I honestly wouldn't be surprised if when they used "domicile" it was completely without realizing they had previously had Tech say it and that this would lead to the viewers drawing an erroneous conclusion. They probably just wanted CX-2 to say something fancy and mysterious tbh, and the same words tend to float in writers' minds. Rip us.

I guess now I understand what I could never work out—if CX-2 was Tech, then why did he so specifically use rifles like Crosshair does and so proficiently, i.e. specifically better than Crosshair did? Why wouldn't he dual wield hand blasters?

Also, although I was in some ways relieved that at least they didn't write a bad resurrection for Tech, and there's absolutely no way it wouldn't have been shit if it'd just been shoved anywhere in the last three episodes, all this is not to say the Clone X concept didn't end up being super hamfisted as well. Just the fact that there are other Clone X types with different weapons and uniforms makes the concept even more confusing. Clearly these guys were meant to mirror the Batch, but then why did all the ones we encountered before CX-2 wear the same uniform as him?? Did they sort the clones into categories of which Clone X they would be? It would actually be cool if the point was to sow fear in the galaxy because it would seem like the person in the CX-2 suit was undefeatable, especially because they were completely covered and their build would be the same every time. But that would be too cool and coherent for this show, sigh.

Also, was Hemlock project managing them, or was Scorch? Neither really makes sense, but who was sending them after Rex's rebel cell? Was there a military higher-up giving the Advanced Science Division that directive? Why did CX-2 and the one that Rex's cell captured hate Crosshair so much? Why the fuck did CX-2 cut off his hand???

Anyway. I could go on forever, but I think at the end of the day, we all read too much into it because we are just collectively better writers than the writers are tbh. Sadly, a classic fandom experience. I guess what ultimately saved me the most from heartbreak and allowed me to earnestly enjoy the finale was that I had already spent a year believing Tech had died and suffered through my grief (by, you guessed it, writing a grief/mourning fic), and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no way these writers could pull off something so emotional and complex. I swear I didn’t actually want to be right!

I think if nothing else, one thing we can all agree on is that Tech surviving could’ve been one kickass story, and it was a hell of a missed opportunity.

#the bad batch spoilers #i'm also mad about tech but i think it's for a different reason than a lot of folks #okay no more meta for at least another week omg #i need to do some actual writing instead of using my brainpower to shout into the void #amph talks #tbb finale #plan 99

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vergeltvng · 2 months

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Thanks for reading my guidelines. I go by the mun-alias Midnight, also Raven (she/they), early millennial, living in the CET timezone. My activity level is medium to low, my reply speed is slow, please don't rush me. English is my second language. I'm from a german roleplay community and immigrated to Tumblr in 2022 after our old platform got shut down. I'm still learning about Tumblr rp etiquette and guidelines, please be patient with me. If you see me doing something unusal or weird feel free to correct me at anytime but be respectful about it.

01. To interact with me, you have to be 18+ (mun and muse). I am not affiliated with The Boys, its creators or the actor Karl Urban and I don't own the character Billy Butcher. I claim ownership of my own written headcanons and texts only. The Boys is an R-rated series and this is a general trigger warning for mature content such as blood, gore, violence, abuse, trauma, sex, sick humour, foul language, weapons, drug use and overall rude behaviour which can be expected from this muse.

02. It should go without saying but at the same time cannot be stressed enough: mun ≠ muse. On some occasions people were not able (or willing) to differentiate between me and my character which led to them feeling offended ooc and hardblocking me midconvo without communicating their discomfort. Butcher can be tremendously rude and aggressive, he swears excessively and is quick to insult your muse if he dislikes them or feels provoked. Writing him close to the canon is very demanding and getting his tone of voice and demeanor right is one of the greatest challenges that I've ever came across in 15+ years of writing. It's such a bummer when I put in the effort and the result is totally misinterpreted. Make sure beforehand that you can absolutely handle interacting with such a muse and do not take anything from him personal or too serious. I am completely different from him, I consider myself friendly, patient and very chill about most things and I'm always willing to talk things out.

03. Besides roleplaying I am also a hobby gif maker, therefore personal blogs are welcome to interact with my posts. Just make sure you don't reblog or comment on roleplay related stuff which includes tag games, writing examples, headcanons, threads and answered asks. Speaking of asks: I will generally react in-character whenever possible. I've received some messages in my inbox that I can't quite classify. If you want to talk to me, the person behind, please put your text in brackets or mark as "for the mun" so I know for sure you're addressing me and not my muse.

04. I haven't very much in-character text on this blog yet, since I mostly rp privately in DM's or on sideblogs. I'm very open and curious to try threads, I'd love to have some writing on my blog whether it be novels, oldschool style shorter postings or some in-character chatting. This would come closest to the 'Pinnwand' we had on our old platform and I still miss it a lot. I'm using the beta editor, which should be standard at this point anyways, and I am able to trim posts. Feel free to hit me up if you're interested and are comfortable with doing any sorts of public threads. You can also just send me an ask (off anon to start a continuous interaction) or tag me in a starter. I highly prefer german and I'm not open to english advanced literate, where complex prose is required. I have little to no experience with it but maybe I'll get more comfortable in the future.

05. When it comes to writing, I ask for a few things: no godmodding, power play or meta gaming. I also don't like forcing or rushing certain interactions that don't feel like natural character progression. Plotting beforehand is welcome but not mandatory. If it ever feels like being stuck we can pause the writing and have a small plotting session between scenes or even for the same scene. I am a big fan of the "yes, and" approach. Give me something to work with, don't let your replies be "dead" and passive. I get discouraged very quickly when I get little to no input and have to come up with moving the plot or interactions myself all the time. I don't have an estimated length for texts, it always depends and I usually don't match length just for the sake of having written a lot. I am not too fond of texts that are artificially bloated and there's essentially nothing happening.

06. I'm multiship and multiverse, meaning every ship takes place in its own verse if not communicated otherwise. I personally enjoy shipping a lot if there's good chemistry but Butcher is difficult to ship and due to his background pretty much unavailable for romantic bonding. It's not impossible though. I'm also interested in any setting where I get a chance to write him as an unhinged villain and diverge from the canon more liberately.

07. My approach to curating my dashboard is quite different, I would say, compared to what's considered standard (clean dash, small circle of mutuals). I follow a lot, and I mean a shitton, of people. I follow every blog out of interest and curiousity but please understand that it's impossible for me to interact with everyone. Also due to my gif making I get quite a bit of notifications when I'm actively posting sets, I'm prone to accidentially miss out on notifs about new followers/mutuals. My dashboard is fast and busy and I like it that way, I've made a conscious choice about this. It has become a wind down ritual for me, just silently scrolling, catching up and finding lots of stuff I enjoy without feeling obligated to contact people or getting replies done. Yes, I am here for rp, but I like to do lots of other things on Tumblr, too. There's periods of time where I don't have the energy to work on drafts or talk to anyone, not even folks who I have grown to genuinely like. Rest assured that you never did anything wrong when I disappear for a while. If I have any sort of issue or problem I will communicate it. What I'm not willing to do is constantly giving activity updates on a schedule. If I go on hiatus for longer I will most likely make a post about it. It's my personal opinion that no one should ever feel pressured into explaining why and for how long they are away.

08. Don't be a cunt. I have zero tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, sexism, hateful comments in general, out of character drama, gossiping, constant negativity, passive aggressiveness, vague posting, guilt tripping, gaslighting and other similar behaviour. Just be a decent person and we're fine.

#「𝟶𝟷」⸻ 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾. ⊣⊢#「𝟷𝟻」⸻ 𝗈𝗈𝖼. ⊣⊢#fakevz

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aggravateddurian · 7 months

Text

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by @medtech-mara for the weekly WIP report. Here's the latest stories.

Cyberpunk RED: How to Save a Life

"My name's Avery, I'm a netrunner."

Cyberpunk RED-era Data Entry, using default Photo Mode frames and backgrounds.

Yesterday I revealed Avery Greer, an FIA netrunner. She's cynical, possibly clinically depressed (my notes say that she's pathologically unable to smile) and desires change in her life. She has already decided that her future does not involve the NUSA or the FIA. She may already have plans in motion to engineer her escape.

She works under a senior FIA agent named Hunter 'Bishop' Wilkes. Bishop is ride-or-die for the NUSA and has already been betrayed by a netrunner before (their AV was hacked by a netrunner who made a covert deal with an African militia to hand over FIA secrets in exchange for safe passage to Nairobi, and from Nairobi to Luna). He already suspects that her change in behaviour could be a prelude to betrayal, and already has her under close watch.

You're gonna see more of her.

Bakeneko: Select images from their latest show

A teaser for a photo story coming next week!

Vega Hawse sings Bakeneko's first original song Wolverines!, written by Dorian 'Durian' Bautista (image credit: NCT News)

Another day, another pic in the screamsheets of So Mi living her best life in NC with Vega (this displeases Myers).

In 2078, Dorian Bautista (y'know, Dorian, the former corpo, turned fixer, then rockerboy) founded a band named Bakeneko ("Changed Cat"). They originally were a Samurai cover band, but something was off about their sound.

Then V came back... well, kinda. Vega's technically genetically 33% Johnny Silverhand and is a hybrid consciousness, but one with all of Johnny's memories and skills, as well as perfect knowledge of every SAMURAI song. Dorian reached out, and after some slightly mocking encouragement from Johnny, Vega joined Bakeneko and became the band's frontwoman.

In mid-2079, Bakeneko signed on with Silverhand Studios. While they still do SAMURAI covers, Vega (and by proxy, Johnny) and Dorian are working on an original EP, due to come out in 2080. Rumours that Kerry Eurodyne will appear in one of the songs are currently unconfirmed by N54 News.

MR BLUE EYES INTERROGATES AN FIA ASSASSIN

Warning: the following story references torture

The agent sat in the darkened room, his face and chest bloody. Electrodes were still attached to the more sensitive parts of his chest and torso. A black-uniformed soldier with blue glowing techgogs threw a bucket of icy water over the agent. He yelped as the ice pelted his bruised and bloodied skin, "Wake the fuck up, fedscum!"

"What the fuck do you want!?" screamed the agent, "just tell me what you want! I'll tell you anything! Just make it stop!"

A man stepped into the room, temporarily blinding the agent as the light of the hallway blasted into the room. He turned to the soldier, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness, "That'll be all."

"Sir."

Mr Blue Eyes circled the FIA agent, "Who was your target?"

"It was a traitor."

Mr Blue Eyes produced a stun baton, and without a second thought, drove the baton into the man's ribs. He cried in pain as electricity coursed through his vulnerable flank, "Specifics, please, Mr Jordan."

"It... her name is Song So Mi. She attempted to kill President Myers. There's a one million eddie bounty on her head."

He nodded, putting the baton back on the tool bench, "See, you can be cooperative... I'm going to let you go, Mr Jordan. In a few hours, you'll be back in Langley, no doubt being treated by the FIA's best medtechs."

"W-what?"

"But not without conditions," Mr Blue Eyes told him, kneeling and grabbing the man by the jaw so his eyes met the agent's, "You'll be sending Ms. Myers a message. Night City is off limits to the NUSA, and by extension, so are Song So Mi and Vega Hawse. If me, or my associates, find your agency operating in our city again, and especially if we find you harassing them, there will be consequences."

"A-are you nuts? Myers will never listen to that!"

Mr B shrugged, "You can take a horse to water, but you can't make it drink, Mr Jordan. All you need to do is deliver the message to the FIA, and you'll be home free. Do we have an accord?"

Jordan bowed his head, "Fine."

Mr B turned to the soldier, "Find this man some clothes and bring him to NCX. He has a flight to catch back to Washington."

"Yes, sir."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That's about it for this week. Normally these come around Wednesday, but today's the day I guess.

People have probably already been tagged for this, but I'm gonna tag: @genocidalfetus @byberbunk2069 @theviridianbunny. Absolutely no pressure involved, only if you want to :)

#wip #wip whenever #cyberpunk red #cyberpunk red campaign #cyberpunk red: how to save a life #oc: avery greer #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 au: chorus #oc: vega 'v' hawse #oc: dorian bautista #songbird #mr blue eyes

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cascowriteswords · 2 years

Note

4 in the moment kiss where they’re enemies to lovers. Maybe coworkers? 🤔

I technically cheated and combined these two but I think it's okay because it ended up being over 3k words 😅

...

“How do I say you’re fucking insane if you think I’m doing all of this without getting fired immediately?” Clarke asks Raven, who sits in the cubicle across from hers.

“The new boss?” Raven asks, still typing away without taking her eyes from her screen. Looking to be just about as overloaded as Clarke feels.

“Yeah. She’s already getting on my nerves because she’s rescheduled our initial meeting like 4 times now. And she keeps sending me things that don’t even have anything to do with my department. I’m the director of People and Culture. I'm not a recruiter. I’m not in marketing. And I’m sure as shit not her personal assistant either. And it’s like -” she glances at the corner of her screen for the time “3 o’clock. I’m supposed to do the jobs of 4 people and still get out by 5? Or does she expect me to pull overtime on a Friday night? Like there’s no way I could possibly have plans. Maybe she’s one of those people who thinks that just because I’m not married and don’t have kids she can shove off everyone else's work on me.”

“Lexa’s a busy person Clarke. I really don’t think it’s personal.”

“Personal or not, it’s not fucking happening. So help me with this email or else your next cube neighbor might be some insufferable old white guy whose all-natural deodorant is just really not working for him.”

Raven relents, finding a stopping point in whatever exactly she’s doing to get up and shoo Clarke out of her chair. She ends up deleting 98% of what Clarke had written, swapping out phrases like “why the fuck didn’t you tell me you needed this done sooner” and “that’s not my fucking problem” with more diplomatic phrases such as “I’ll schedule those meetings for you at your earliest availability” and “I wasn’t involved with that project but I will forward your request to the appropriate parties”, respectively.

“You’re weirdly good at that for someone with the smartest mouth I know,” Clarke commends her when she’s finished.

“It’s all about balance, babe. Now can I please get back to my job? Or the Commander’s going to fire us both. Maybe your mom will let us turn her study back into your bedroom and we can crash there when we can’t make our rent next month.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Then something registers. “Wait. The Commander? Is that what people are calling her?” she asks, a mixture of disbelief and disgust seeping into her voice.

“Yeah,” Raven shrugs.

“I get that she’s the boss but she’s not commanding me to do anything,” Clarke grumbles. She plops back down in her chair and starts typing angrily.

“If you add anything to that that gets you fired after I just rewrote the whole thing for you I’m going to be so pissed,” Raven warns.

“I’m not,” Clarke promises. “I just don’t want her to think she can walk all over me. Command me,” she adds, rolling her eyes.

She ends the email with Hope this helps, let me know if you would like to meet with me to go over the roles of our departments and their directors to avoid misallocation of time and resources in the future and hits send. She hopes it's just passive-aggressive enough to get the message across without being able to be used against her.

She goes back to work, furiously attempting to complete the tasks The Commander had unloaded on her. She may not have kids or a significant other waiting for her at home but she does have a cat and a bottle of red wine and a new episode of her favorite shitty reality TV show to watch.

So far the new boss has taken 2-3 days to return any of her emails. So she isn't expecting it at all when she gets the notification that someone has replied to the email she just sent an hour ago.

That sounds like a great idea. Come up whenever you are ready.

Clarke's initial reaction is oh shit. Followed in rapid succession by annoyance and frustration when she has the realization that it's already past 4 o'clock now and this means she most definitely will not be getting out on time, not that there was much hope she would, anyway. But still.

She needs to learn to keep her big stupid mouth shut.

"It was nice knowing you," she grumbles to Raven as she gets up and smooths the wrinkles from her slouch out of her shirt. Raven quirks a brow but seems otherwise unfazed as Clarke shuffles toward the elevator and her impending doom.

…

Clarke knocks three times, half hoping to not be heard so she can say she tried and return to her desk.

No such luck.

“Come in.” The voice is muffled by thick oak and considerable distance but Clarke manages to catch it. She steadies herself and lifts her chin, prepared to simultaneously defend herself and give The Commander a piece of her mind as she opens the door and steps into her office.

She’s wholly unprepared for the woman she finds sitting behind the desk.

She isn’t sure what she was expecting but it definitely isn’t this. Lexa looks young, for starters, nearly the same age as Clarke. Her features are somehow both delicate and sharp, with high cheekbones and pouty lips and big round eyes that Clarke can’t quite figure out the color of at first glance. Chestnut hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun like it was originally down but she’d had enough by the end of the day, strands towards the front not contained by the hair tie and instead framing her face.

Clarke’s first impression is that this might be the most attractive woman she’s ever seen in her life. Her second is that she looks tired. And her third, more of an observation than an impression, is that it looks like a bomb went off in this office. There are papers literally scattered all over the floor, boxes stacked along the walls and windows that would normally boast an expansive view of the skyline, and the couch against the far wall looks like it’s been functioning as a dresser and changing room of sorts with slacks and button down blouses draped over its back and arms.

Between Lexa’s unexpected prettiness and the warzone that is her office Clarke momentarily forgets why she’s here and that she was even mad to begin with.

“I apologize for the state of my office,” Lexa says, likely having followed Clarke’s gaze around the room. “It’s been a whirlwind trying to get everything in order around here. Titus gave us no warning about his departure and apparently was trying to run this company into the ground, by my estimations after going through what I could of the data.” She sighs, finishing scribbling something down onto a sticky note which she adds to a pile of other sticky notes on the left side of her desk. “Sit, please,” Lexa tells her, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk.

Clarke has that tongue-tied feeling that she only gets around pretty women. And that - cannot be how she feels sitting across from her new boss, especially not as the leader of People and Culture. She forces herself to speak, reminding herself why she’s here and what her end goal is; to not get fired while also putting her foot down about the scope and limitations of her role. She decides to get right down to business, voicing her concerns, and finds Lexa to be… a very good listener. She listens so well and intently, in fact, that Clarke almost finds herself losing her train of thought because those eyes.

And then she does something Clarke had absolutely not expected her to do - she agrees with her about the general mismanagement occurring and state of disarray in the company and asks for her input about the best way to move forward. She apologizes for sending a slew of information and tasks her way and explains that she never meant for Clarke to complete all of that work on her own or immediately but rather to delegate and get to things when she had the time. She thanks Clarke for her hard work and dedication and tells her that even though this is their first formal meeting she’s well aware of the hard work she does and is very thankful for her contributions to the team.

Clarke’s been working in corporate culture long enough to be able to tell when someone is just blowing smoke up her ass. When scrutinizing Lexa’s words, all she gets is that she seems like one of the most genuine, down-to-earth people she’s ever met. She’s just swamped, stressed out, and working insane hours trying to fix all of the various fuck ups Titus made over the past 4 years as CEO.

Very much to her surprise, she finds herself sympathetically offering to help Lexa get some things sorted out. And again to her surprise, she finds that she doesn’t mind staying and working in Lexa’s office with her, spending time helping her delegate work to other departments and creating a realistic timetable for the next few weeks with attainable goals. Clarke tells funny stories about some of the department heads as they work and Lexa spills secrets about the board members she works with after swearing Clarke to secrecy.

She doesn’t even realize how much time has gone by until Lexa glances at the clock on the wall and looks at her from across her desk, stricken. “You should go home. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’s already after 7. Thank you for all of your help, you really didn’t have to do all of this.”

Clarke didn’t have to. She definitely did not expect to want to when she had sullenly ridden in the elevator up here. Raven probably thinks she got herself kicked out of the 5th-floor window since she never came back to her cubicle. But now she finds herself reluctant to leave, especially knowing that Lexa will likely be here all night continuing to work.

“Did you have dinner yet?”

Lexa looks up from her computer screen slowly. “I haven’t.”

"You just moved here, right? Have you been to Tomatoes yet?"

"I haven't," Lexa says again.

"It's a little hole-in-the-wall spot. Kind of…lackluster, but their tacos are to die for and the bartender is awesome. Would you want to go?"

"Now?" Lexa asks, pointedly surveying her desk that is, despite having been organized, still loaded with paperwork to be sorted through.

"Yes, now. You've been here all day - I know because I've been here all day and you were here before me. Those papers will l still be here Monday." Lexa looks doubtful as she chews the inside of her lower lip. "Or tomorrow if you insist on working the weekend. But let's be done for the night. Both of us."

This is so not how Clarke thought her night would go; standing in front of Lexa, her boss, The Commander, and trying to lure her out to the bar for tacos and a drink. Genuinely hoping she'll accept because even though they've been working she's actually had the most fun she's had in a while and she's not quite ready for it to end.

Lexa looks at her thoughtfully, meeting her eyes. She glances down at her desk once more and then exhales, tossing her pen into a drawer as she shuts down her computer. She stands up and grins at Clarke as she takes her jacket off the back of her chair and shrugs it over her shoulders.

"Alright. Let's go try these tacos, then."

…

“You have to be kidding me.”

Lexa turns around and hits Clarke with a smug, triumphant little smile. Then looks back at her achievement, a dart nestled solidly in the red bullseye circle of the dartboard, surrounded by Clarke’s failed attempts scattered haphazardly across the board. She’d gotten it on her first try, standing several feet further back than she even had to.

“You lied to me. There’s no way you’ve never thrown a dart before.”

“Do I look like I frequent establishments that have dartboards, Clarke?” Lexa asks, quirking a brow in challenge.

No, she doesn’t. Not in the pantsuit she’s wearing, even after she shed her coat and blazer shortly after they’d arrived. One half of her shirt has come out of its tuck and the top few buttons are undone, the collar sagging open and offering the view of just a hint of collarbones on either side. Her cheeks are a little flushed from the one beer she’s had and she looks messy but somehow still put together. She’s undeniably beautiful, and she stares at Clarke expectantly waiting for some kind of comeback, unaware that Clarke can hardly think when she’s standing there looking like that. Existing in her space. Out of her comfort zone but still self-assured and confident. She’s unbelievably attractive, beyond what Clarke had even perceived when she got her first look at her earlier in the day.

She’s so screwed.

“No, you don’t,” Clarke admits with a sigh. “I’ve been trying for months to get a bullseye. You must just have some kind of natural technique with your fingers.”

Lexa opens her mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it. But Clarke’s not having any of that. “What were you about to say?” she asks. “I don’t need you to pity me, Raven kicks my ass at darts on the regular.”

Lexa doesn’t answer right away, looking at Clarke like she’s searching for something. Clarke can’t tell if she finds it but waits patiently. “It’s not appropriate,” she says after a moment.

Interest - piqued. “We aren’t at work right now,” Clarke reminds her.

“But you’re human resources, essentially,” Lexa laughs, a little nervously. “Seems like a grey area.”

“We don’t call it HR because of the negative association that’s been tied with it over the years. Like this, it makes people nervous. So yeah, I’m technically HR, but I’m not a narc. And you’re the CEO anyways.”

“Which makes it an even greyer area.”

“Lexa, come on. We’ve been having a good time, right?”

She nods. Weighs her options for just a few more seconds and then says, “I was just going to say that I’ve been told I have a natural technique with my fingers before. In…other contexts.”

It takes a second for Clarke to process and then - oh. Oh.

She’s glad she hadn’t taken another sip of her drink because she might have choked on it.

She swallows, trying to gather herself, absolutely not letting herself take a closer look at Lexa’s hands because she’s already noticed that they’re nice but she hasn’t scrutinized them beyond that. “That was extremely inappropriate, Miss Woods,” she says, calling on her stern business-woman voice that she’s perfected over years of dealing with employee relations issues.

Lexa’s eyes widen. “Clarke, I told you that I didn’t want to overstep. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have -”

Clarke doesn’t have the heart to watch her flounder for more than a few seconds. She cuts her off. “It was inappropriate, but I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” She feigns more confidence than she feels as she puts a hand on Lexa’s knee reassuringly. A small gesture to make it so that Lexa isn’t the only one who has crossed a line tonight. Lexa looks a little shell-shocked, looking up and down between Clarke’s hand and her face enough times that it’s almost comical. Clarke squeezes her leg once and then lets go, standing up from the stool she’d been sitting on as she watched Lexa play darts. “Come on, let’s go sit at the bar. The next thing I want to make you try is their southwest egg rolls.”

She grabs Lexa’s hand like it’s no big deal at all and pulls her towards two open seats.

…

Clarke’s not sure that Lexa has ever eaten greasy bar finger food before but the southwest egg rolls are definitely a hit. The noises Lexa makes as she eats them tell her as much, and also do things to her. But they don’t affect her half as much as watching Lexa amicably interact with some of the old townies who are also sitting at the bar with them. It turns out Lexa knows enough about baseball to hold her own talking to Bonafide Baseball Expert Jim McDonnel and she doesn’t bat an eye when a very drunk Mary Lou bumps into her seat and then talks about her 13 cats for five minutes until the bartender mercifully calls her attention back down to the other end of the bar where her actual seat is.

Clarke feels a little bad for subjecting high-class Lexa to this place but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, when she turns to look at Clarke her eyes are bright and her smile is genuine and she says, “Thanks for showing me this place. It’s great.”

Clarke kind of adores her and her big dopey smile. And that’s a really scary thought to be having about her boss of all people but she’s rolling with it. Whatever it is between them, chemistry or connection or some other unnamed thing, it’s off the charts. And Clarke can’t take it anymore, especially knowing that the night is starting to come to a close.

Lexa is already sitting close enough that their knees are knocking together and it’s not much distance to close between their mouths at all. She doesn’t have the tact or inhibition to do it slowly, just leans in and kisses Lexa like she’s been wanting to do all night. It’s heated and languid immediately and she finds Lexa only needs a fraction of a second to adjust to her surprise before she’s kissing back, open-mouthed and hungry.

It’s stupid Jim McDonell’s hooting and hollering that breaks them apart less than a minute later, reminding them that they’re very much in public and kissing in a way that is very much not chaste.

A realization that is quickly followed by the fact that Clarke just kissed her boss. “Sorry,” she says quickly, trying to catch her breath.

Lexa holds her gaze. Licks her lips like she’s trying to taste what’s left of Clarke on them. Clarke tries not to visibly squirm in her chair as she watches, and looks back up when Lexa finally says something. “No you aren’t.”

Clarke’s alma mater would probably revoke her degree if they heard her response. “No, I’m not.” Lexa smirks, then not so subtly looks at Clarke’s mouth, desire clear in the intentness of her gaze. “Do you want to get out of here?”

When Lexa’s eyes flick up they’re darker than they were before. Heat flares in the confines of Clarke’s lower stomach and settles between her legs. “Very much so.”

Clarke’s hand flies up, flagging down the bartender to close out their tab without taking her eyes off Lexa. She tips generously and laughs when Lexa grabs her hand and tugs her hurriedly back towards the car.

On second thought, maybe she should open her big fat mouth more often.

#thanks for asking buddy!#and anon who asked for 7 too!#clexa drabble #clexa kiss prompt #clexa kisses #clexa

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louellaby · 8 months

Text

W I T H M E

A Self-Insert Story: Solomon × Loue

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

W A R N I N G

oc × canon, self-insert, angst, hurt/comfort (?)

Loue's Note: I've been going through an emotional rollercoaster these past few days, and I don’t even know why. I've been feeling less motivated to do the stuff I love doing, even when I'm in the mood to do them. Like when I'm in the mood to draw, but the moment I pick my tablet up, I suddenly lose interest, or I'll think, "Nope, this would cost too much energy. I don't want to do it."

And so here we are; with me having written a self-indulgent story with my comfort character Solomon and my main and original character Loue. I felt like I needed to do this while I still had the energy to write. This may or may not make sense in the end, but I'm not emotionally stable enough to write something that does.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

If you don't like self-insert stories, feel free to ignore this.

It's dark outside. All I could see from looking out my bedroom window was my own reflection, lit up by the bright lights burning in my room.

The Devildom has always been a dark place, but on days like this, it always feels like it can get much darker; much colder, much stranger, and much, much more dangerous. On days like this... It makes me want to succumb to the darkness and let it swallow me whole.

It has been a while since I landed in the past. I felt like I was going to lose control over my own sanity when my demons didn't recognise me, and the realisation finally seeped it. Everyone says I'm good at adapting to situations quickly, but in all honesty, I'm not. I just try to, to keep up with the expectations.

I've been working my hardest for the longest time. It almost never felt like it was appreciated.

I've solved problems, given advice that may or may not have helped, comforted others, fixed broken connections, and I'm sure there's much, much more. But it's never enough. Nothing will ever be enough for them.

I'm not one to complain about my troubles to others, at least not whenever I have the possibility to. I'm one to bottle up my feelings until I explode. And by "exploding," I mean bursting into tears in the safety of my own bedroom. No one can see me like this. I refuse to let them see me like this.

My D.D.D. beeped, receiving a message from the one and only Solomon.

"I've gotten a message from Luke saying he and Barbatos made cakes and cookies together. He asked us if we were willing to be taste-testers."

Desserts made by Luke and Barbatos. I've always loved them; here in the past and in the future. Not only are they delicious, probably the best in all three realms, but they also give me this joyful feeling.

I want to feel that again.

I need to feel that again.

"Luke said that the brothers are with them in the Demon Lord's Castle, and we should hurry before Beelzebub eats every single thing."

...

I should want to go. Right? Because they're there. I'm obligated to see them, right? Because they're my...

No. They're not my family. Not those versions of them. I'm just their attendant. That's my job. They don't know me as well as the others back in the future. I don't belong with them. I want to go back. I want to leave this place. I can't take any more of this.

"I want to go home."

My D.D.D. keyboard beeped as I clicked send. Not long after that, I heard footsteps in the distance. They were growing louder and louder. And then they stopped. Right in front of my bedroom door.

"Loue? May I come in?"

While I still had the energy to, I got up from my bed and walked towards the door. I opened it to find Solomon, standing there with a concerned look on his face.

Now that I think about it, he's always been there for me. He's never forced me into difficult situations. He'd always take the heat himself whenever I get in trouble. He would always use his own body to shield me from harm while offering sweet words to calm me down.

And here he is again, holding me close to his chest while patting my head with a gentle touch.

"We don't have to go anywhere. We can just stay indoors and do whatever you want."

"But... I have to go. Don't I...?"

"No. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. At least not when you're with me, I won't allow it."

Solomon picks me up and walks down the hall after closing the door to my room using magic.

"Where are we going?"

"To my room. I have a feeling we will have visitors soon and the first place they'll check is your room, so it's best if you stay in mine until they leave."

"... Can I stay even after they leave?"

The man looked down to meet my eyes, and with a wide smile, he answered, "Of course. You can stay for as long as you want."

Just as Solomon said, the doorbell rang and echoed through the halls of the mansion. He told me to stay while he went out to deal with the problem we both knew was coming. I insisted on going with him to try and calm them down myself, but he refused and left the room after making sure I was comfortable in his bed.

I stayed quiet.

Listening for any hints of arguing and fighting, but there came none. Well, I heard loud voices through the halls for a moment, but it soon died down. It was much quicker than I anticipated. I was expecting loud sets of footsteps rushing their way to me, but nothing like that happened.

I heard a faint sound of the front door open and another faint sound of it closing after twenty minutes. Then, Solomon came back to his room, a tray with milk coffee and sweets in hand.

"Luke was here with Simeon and the brothers. They delivered the sweets to us, and they all wished you a quick recovery."

He must have told them I wasn't feeling well. They probably assumed I caught a cold, instead of me being emotionally and physically exhausted. Lucifer must have been the one to convince everyone to give me space.

Solomon served me the sweets he got from Luke and sat down on a chair he placed next to his bed. He assured me that no one would bother us for as long as I wanted.

He read me one of the books we bought together at the book market. He told me stories about himself when I asked him to; all the adventures he went on, all the twists, surprises, disappointments, and success. He told me that even when he was alone on his adventures, it doesn't mean I'm alone on mine.

Because no matter how difficult the road ahead will be, he'll always be there right next to me.

#louellaby #loue's berceuse #obey me #obey me angst #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me self insert #obey me solomon #obey me soloue #obey me loue #obey me oc #i just needed this

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blue-howlite · 2 months

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Alright this is going to sound weird at firts. But how about the doom breaker guys and girls (who ever you are comfortable with). Receiving a very explicit picture of their S/O while they are in a mission.

Only if you are comfortable with it of course

Dear I've written straight up smut, power dynamics and even a prey-predator (non sexual) one shot once, this is probably one of the most normal things I have on this blog. But thank you for being considerate, it's very much appreciated!

Spicy pics

Doom breaker headcanons.

Feat. Ned, Altair, Ophelia, Lucius

Warnings: implied nsfw, use of magic to make spicy self portraits, use of magic to teleport said portraits, characters being needy af, maybe ooc.

Author note: I'm sorry if you wanted a modern day scenario, I like to mess around with magic and its possible uses. The idea is that reader is a magician or sorcerer or magic-able person that can conjure images on paper and then teleport them to someone or somewhere.

Ned

When the paper scroll materialises itself in his hands, he gets really happy. You have a habit of sending him letters through your magic whenever he's away.

You didn't tell him you recently learned a spell to conjure pictures. So he when he starts opening the scroll he's surprised to see your face, but smiles softly.

Until he sees the full image.

He gets visibly flustered and averts his gaze from the paper he's holding... but looks at it again after a few seconds, unable to resist the sight.

He's putting that scroll away in a safe place, where he keeps your letters... Although maybe he should consider finding a different place, more hidden. He'll talk to you about timing once he's back.

He never gets used to it, no matter how many times you do this. Every time he gets all red in the face and with a problem to solve... Which can be a bit embarrassing if he's teaming up with someone else.

He's super touchy once he comes back to you and very much needs your attentions. The fact that he had to wait until he finished the mission makes him much weaker to your touches later.

Altair

She gets flustered of course, who would have expected to receive such a thing?

Not that she complains though.

She conjures a message that she sends back, scolding you about your indecency and lack of shame.

She does mention a punishment though... Wonder what that is about huh?

You'll have fun finding out once she's back.

Then she establishes a new rule to correct your misbehaviour: every time you send her a spicy portrait while she's on a mission, you have to recreate it when she's back. Not on paper.

Useless to say this doesn't really work to stop you.

The party is worried about her health, as of recently she always heads straight to her quarters as soon as they get back from a mission, is she that tired all the time?

You know she's not by all the energy she puts into scolding you.

Ophelia

The first time she almost tears the scroll apart. She was very surprised to receive such a provoking portrait of you.

She manages not to and puts it in a safe place, then hurries to finish the mission to get back to you. That was quite bold of you dear, once she sees you there will be consequences...

She sort of gets used to it over time, still getting flustered but managing to control her reaction.

She even tries looking indifferent (she really doesn't), especially when there are other people around.

Other people can even tell at this point that you're sending her something particular because when you do, she is very quick to deal with the mission.

She scolds you every time she comes back... But most times end with you two in bed together, with varying levels of nudity involved. You teased her after all...

Lucius

He's very worried about someone else seeing it of course so he hides he portrait the moment he sees it. What he doesn't hide is how much into it he is.

Sure the timing isn't great since he's on a mission, but he doesn't mind it at all.

He sends you back a message of appreciation for this "token of your affection".

And when he comes back he's anything but a saint, acting like he's scolding you but subtly teasing you.

Wish I could say that he tells you to not do it in the future, but he doesn't.

If anything, he encourages you, directly and indirectly, to continue with this scandalous behaviour.

#doom breaker #doom breaker x reader #Ned strier #ned strier x reader #ophelia amleth #ophelia amleth x reader #altair justina cayenne #altair justina cayenne x reader #lucius giornetti #lucius giornetti x reader #Yep they are hoes

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aerodaltonimperial · 2 months

Note

Long time no Elevator Anon because damn what do you mean I actually have to do my animation assignments for my animation major? So I haven’t been working on my fic in a hot second but here’s a fun fact:

Before I even thought about watching AEW all I knew about it came from seeing what other wrestling blogs were posting about it. And Hook was one of the first to catch my eye enough to go “Hmm, I wonder if there’s fics about this guy”. And lo and behold I spent quite a few nights reading through Hook fics on ao3 until finally I stumbled upon “The Price I’d Pay for You” and you need to know this; I rarely read long fics. I struggle with focusing and finding the time to read through em. But dammit the summary was interesting so I read it. And I didn’t read it all in one go because I do have some self-preservation but I still finished it relatively fast. I usually only read fanfic before going to bed but this one had me reading it whenever I had the time. I need to reiterate; I wasn’t even watching AEW yet!

To this day I still go back and reread certain chapters I particularly like, and like I said I probably wouldn’t be writing and posting my own fics were it not for yours and specifically this one.

That fic had me screaming crying sobbing scratching at walls in the best way possible. So again, thank you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooh my gooooooooooooood this is THE NICEST THING????? i'm tagging @perhapswhoknowsvamp since she was half of that fic and can read this as well but THIS IS JUST THE MOST WARM AND FUZZY INDUCING MESSAGE TO GRACE MY INBOX IN AWHILE and i am just so happy and delighted that our (very intense) collab fic ended up being so enjoyable to read??? especially without knowing anything about the kayfabe background we were pulling from?? that fic was such an interesting one anyway because we hadn't even MEANT to start writing it together, it really just came out on its own, and it's started such a great journey for us together! and thank you so much for sending this along! it's been a little rough for both of us this past month or so, and we're not having the easiest time finding words as of present, and just knowing that the ones we've already written have influenced people like you is so so amazing. 💚💚💚 thank you SO MUCH for being here and sending over this lovely note, and i hope you get some time soon to write more of your own fics!

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roominthecastle · 2 years

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I am honestly so confused by the 'Harry is Goliath' reveal. More than the storyline, just that they figured it out. At no point has time travel been a thing. (Right? Did I miss a hint somewhere about it?) Shapeshifting on the other hand - most definitely a thing. So why, when confronted with things that no one else should know/have been present for, wasn't the first theory: 'Goliath came to Patience and spied on us, and we had no idea because he could've looked like literally anyone'.

But: somehow, Harry is Goliath and made messages for himself!

Like, how is that a logical leap to take? Why did Asta come up with that? On the list of possible explanations for the paintings, that was like... number 37.

I know they're seriously deviating from the comic and that's fine, but this is such a weird, convoluted thing to do. Putting aside the time loop issue and inevitability and how stupidly they've written themselves into a corner with this (if they prevent the destruction of earth, Harry won't be stuck for 300 years, won't evolve, won't come back as Goliath, won't warn himself, so the destruction will happen... and they're stuck in a spiral now.) it's just not necessary. We went from the idea that aliens exposed to humanity for long enough could change and learn to feel and care. But turns out, no. Just Harry. He's alone in this.

Again.

My head is def still spinning with this twist, anon, so bear with me as I try to feel my way to a semi-coherent answer. But thank you for this ask bc it gave me a great opportunity to try and wrap my brain around what the fresh hell is going on here :D

The short version is: I, too, am confused and can only hope they sort this mess in a satisfactory way.

The long, rambly version:

I don't think the possibility of time travel's been explicit but it's been implicitly present since day one - sort of like Chekhov's wormhole. Harry said his home is 46 light-years away, so it would have been pointless for him to radio his people to stay away for 50 years because even if they could travel at the speed of light, it would still take them about 50 years to arrive. Therefore, they must have figured out how to use wormholes and the necessary ingredient for this is the same that enables time travel (and is in Harry's alien balls, I suspect): exotic matter. Not at all sure how aware Asta is of all this but she has seen all the crazy stuff Harry can do + she’s been deep diving into all things alien on the internet, so the idea of time travel might have been floating around in her mind already.

That being said, my reaction was the same as yours when she instantly zeroed in on Goliath-is-time-traveling-Harry. It def feels like a result of a pacing/writing issue that's really starting to chafe this show, imo. They are crunching plot at the expense of everything else and I'm never a fan of that. And it's not the plot I don't like, it's the speed that warps everything around it, characters included. Plus I've also developed an aversion to "gamechanger" surprise twists but that's not this show's fault, it's just that I've rarely experienced one that doesn't knife an otherwise promising story in the heart, so I’m always reflexively concerned whenever it happens. Fingers crossed they have an actual plan beyond “shock and awe”.

Right now everything depends on where they choose to go with this twist. It's a mess but it can still be great and meaningful. Time travel stories are ripe with contradictions that regularly make my head hurt (I still love them, tho). The particular paradox you describe would def reduce this story to a hopeless, pointless fixed loop that goes against the governing massage of hope they've been cultivating.

One (maybe the only) solution I can think of atm is introducing the idea of parallel, intersecting timelines that connect via wormholes or "bridges". The fact that this ep also featured an actual bridge connecting past/present/future might not be accidental, either. In the ep Harry also mentions ley lines which are believed by some to be pockets of concentrated energy (like wormholes) that connect places. So maybe they are the spots where parallel worlds also brush up against each other.

In this scenario, future!Harry steps back into the past of an intersecting parallel timeline (ours) where he can effect meaningful change and safeguard Earth. This way this version of him would not be stuck in a doomed loop forever, "our" Harry can live out the rest of his days without having to become Goliath, and the paradox would be eliminated.

And this would take nothing away from our Harry’s development, either.

His 500-year old solitary wandering on a dead planet was not the source of Harry’s extraordinary growth, it was the result of it. He pinpoints the real source in the flash-forward at the beginning: Asta. She is also the reason he refuses to shed his dying human body bc that’s the body that has known her, that she knew (oh boy oh boy, the implications here are just so rich but I digress...). And when the time comes and he has no choice but to transform back into his alien form, that's when he begins his quest to find a way to set things right. Hope pushes him forward, hope that she gave him, hope that is his love in its most enduring form.

So this “many worlds” solution would make Goliath!Harry a parallel or alt version of our Harry, an identical copy if you will, who would not only serve as a portend & guide but would also demonstrate just how much growth our Harry (and his kind in general) is truly capable of. I mean, just because we haven't seen other aliens develop in a way Harry does, it doesn't mean it isn't possible for them. Quite the opposite, I believe.

So yeah, I have no idea what is going on anymore but am cautiously optimistic it’s gonna become one hell of a ride. We’ll see.

#anonymous #resident alien #resident alien spoilers #harry x asta #speculation #long post

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whaleofatjme1920 · 2 years

Note

Finally got the guts to do mine, so here ya go. You already know her well but for the sake of the format — Nadine, she/her, romantic. Either SCP or Assassin's Creed works fine. Surprise me! <3

- 🇧🇻

****

Yue Lao,

How do you pray to a god you do not worship? I write to you from a place of desperation — of loneliness. My situation is… complicated. I've had lovers before — soulmates even, but I always had to leave them behind when their time came to pass on. I have something they don't, and because of that, I can't join them.

I don't know how to describe myself; I've been so many things over the years it's almost like I can pick and choose who to be, but that doesn't feel right. As such, I've attached a few things to this letter to try and explain who I am. Who I was.

The Sekhmet figurine is a childhood toy; one of few things I have left of that life. I was a child of the sun; born at midday and the eldest of three. It's my most treasured possession — take good care of it.

The nordic rune comes from a place of healing, where I learned that despite the cruelty of the world, there are still people out there who care. People who will listen to your troubles and aid you in your darkest moments.

The bullet, I suppose, is my way of trying to explain who I am now. A guardian, yes, but also a weapon. I am fiercely protective over the ones I hold dear, despite my more… recent fears of attachment. My trust isn't so easily gained — it never has been, but once it does, I can be counted on to put my life on the line for you, if that's what it takes.

This is a last ditch effort on my end, but I hope it will work — others have tried and failed; I really hope it won't come to pass this time. Perhaps fate isn't such a bad thing after all?

Yours, Nadine

[Disclaimer: The Red String of Fate event is a special event I'm running from August 12th, to whenever I feel it necessary to end - right now, I'm giving it to the first week of September! Check out rules HERE]

The mentions of a goddess not part of his own pantheon make Yue Lao smile. The lines near his eyes wrinkle as he remembers the beauty that is Lady Sekhmet, and the gods of Egypt. He has not spoken to them in quite some time, and this is not because of disinterest, but rather their jobs keeping them far, far apart. It is not easy being a god, and with the lady of war protecting sacred lands, himself guiding people in their love in all its forms, well, it's been quite some time!

No one that's written to him recently actually worships him. These are people who heard about his works from someone who loves him and decided to send him a message just to see if their romance problems could be solved. His followers, he knows who they are, and while you are not one of them, he vows to treat you well. The things you've gifted him are quite interesting, that much he must admit. The figurine of the great goddess Sekhmet is placed out in his gardens. Yue Lao is a deity of the night, the opposite of the Lioness herself, and hopes the moonlight she now bathes under is good enough to keep her satisfied. The Nordic rune is held deep in his pocket, just a reminder of one of the many people who have asked for his help. The bullet - he keeps that for further use.

The god knows that he can't pair you with any normal human, that's just not possible or fair, is it? You've had many partners throughout your life and so many of them have passed due to the thing we all recognize as the human condition. He hums softly as he strokes his beard and his cat, letting her soft purr spur his thoughts on. He looks into an odd Foundation that he's placed a few people with and looks at the humans who don't quite act like humans, the humans that are just a little odd and wonderful.

Bao mews when her god's index finger slides over the face of a man who's lost in thought, a man that, even without the whole 'living too long' thing seems to be a very good match for someone like you. His first name is Jack, last Bright. Dr. Jack Bright, the man himself, who is the living definition of "fuck around and find out." It almost makes Yue Lao laugh, in pity that the man lives as he does and the hilarity of the situation. He knows you're going to be what this man needs, and he what you need.

The kind of thread that the god of love and marriage uses is something classic, tried and true. It was given to him by the beautiful, powerful mother goddess Xiwangmu. Woven into this thread are shavings from the peach trees of immortality. It's almost a little pun on his end as he smiles and attaches it to your pinky and Jack's. Bao's ears flick upwards as she watches you and Jack look down in real time at the thin red thread that materializes on your hands, connecting the two of you together. The scent of peaches and jasmine fills the air, almost compelling the two of you together.

Yue Lao chuckles deeply as he watches the two of you stand, more than ready to meet. His moonlight clouded eyes glance over to a thick pile of letters. Resting on top is a letter Jack wrote to him only a month or so ago, praying for someone like you.

#red string of fate the event #dr bright x reader #dr jack bright x reader #scp x reader

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unpaidandusednsfw · 2 years

Text

Rules, Muses, AUs

Rules

Rules may be changed whenever.

Read the rules first!

All characters are written to be 18 years or older. Certain characters are aged up.

No God Modding.

Again, this is an NSFW blog, you know 18+ content on here. So, NO MINOR is allowed to be here.

Muses DO NOT equal Mun! Some taboo content is on here. All of this is just fantasy and fiction. I DO NOT condone these things.

I write Asks, Snippets, Prompts, Text Stories, and Head Canons. I am willing to do RPs. I also accept crossover requests. Also consider every request MultiVerse.

Please, with your requests specify what it is. I'll consider it an ask if nothing is stated of what you are requesting.

Please specify which muse(s) your request is for.

I am willing to accept requests of my muses and an OC muse of yours. I will be VERY SELECTIVE with self-inserts.

Snippets are short writings that I'll write 1 or 2 paragraphs for. Prompts are longer, with me at least writing 4 short paragraphs.

When sending a request, please don't write out your own beginning of prompt or something. Give me the idea and the details you would like me to write for.

I DO NOT have to do your request. I have to right to turn it down for whatever reason. Please respect my decision if I do.

ABSOLUTELY NO: scat, watersports (urine), gore, snuff, abuse, etc. Ask if for other kinks if I'm willing to do it.

I accept straight, bisexual, yuri, yaoi and futa ideas. Crossdressing and genderbenders are also accepted. That includes both male and female characters crossdressing. Along with male to female and female to male genderbenders.

Some of the taboo things I'm fine doing are rape, blackmail, incest, netorare, cucking and cheating. I use the tag #unpaidunusedkinks for these requests. Blacklist that if you don't want to see them. Let me know if you use other tags to hide these type of things.

Please be patient with me. I can and will be slow with my replies to any request.

RPs will go much slower than the rest. Forgive me if I don't have an idea for if we discuss about possibly RPing. Plotting out RPs will be discussed with private messages in Inbox or IMs. My writing for RPs can come up short from time to time. Don't expect multi-paragraph replies.

Please DO NOT like or reblog RPs if you are not roleplaying in it.

I won't do Anon RPs.

If you've read the rules, please send "One esper way down to Hell!"

Muses

Muses may be removed or added whenever.

RWBY

One Punch Man

Naruto

Fairy Tail

Fire Emblem

Kuroinu

Disney Princesses

Uzaki-chan Wants to Hang Out!

Kingdom Hearts

Nier Automata

My Hero Academia

Kiemetsu no Yaiba

Legend of Zelda

Jujutsu Kaisen

Dragon Ball Z

Persona 3, 4, 5

Soul Calibur

Highschool of the Dead

Overlord

Danmachi

KonoSuba

Helluva Boss

Genshin Impact

Jessica Rabbit (Who Frame Roger Rabbit)

Bayonetta (Bayonetta)

Jeanne (Bayonetta)

Samus (Metroid)

Motoko Kusanagi (Ghost in the Shell)

Stripperella (Stripperella)

Desiree (Danny Phantom)

Bowsette (Mario)

AUs

List of AUs that we can work with. You can send in asks, snippets, and prompts for them.

-One Man’s Harem (A One Punch Man AU): An AU where our protag Saitama has a harem, and he is still not recognized as a hero by most. But that doesn’t stop him from being a hero, and inadvertently getting the girls.

Saitama��s harem: Female Genos, Fubuki, Tatsumaki, Mosquito Girl, Do-S,

-Female Ozpin-verse (Working title. A RWBY AU): It all started with me suggesting you people to think about a female Ozpin. Then I did a text story of Ophelia (female Ozpin) and Jaune. Then someone sent an ask for Jaune about her. So, why not do a full on AU for her

My Other Blogs

My other blogs, except for Cuntry of Degens, will be put on hiatus. I'll be focusing on this one and the Cuntry blog.

Cuntry of Degens - A taboo and weird kinks focused writing blog.

Sinning as Fantasy - A self-indulgent blog where I RP as a fictionalized version of myself. [HIATUS]

Tornado of Lust - A Tatsumaki (One-Punch Man) blog. [HIATUS]

Unpaid Lewd OCs - A OCs blog. [HIATUS]

Other Writings

This is a list of my own text stories, snippets and short fanfics.

Jaune's Harem Application Part 1

#unpaidandusednsfw mun

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hoe4hotchner · 3 years

Note

Hey! I wanted to say I'm such a huge fan of your works. They're so well written and I look forward to seeing your posts. If you're still taking requests from your prompt list, I would love to see 23 and 37 👀 please 🙏

A concerned colleague

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Requests are open and here’s my prompt list. Thank you so much!!! Ahh!

Warnings: Angst. Mention of ED. Feeling neglected and hopeless. Praise.

Prompts: 23. Be a good girl and do what I tell you.

37. When was the last time you ate? or even slept?

You were starting to feel the effects of the many sleepless nights you endured. Your body felt weak. Tired all the time. It was like a never-ending question of whether or not you had the strength to get out of your bed in the mornings.

Some days you just physically couldn’t get yourself out of it, waiting until the last possible moment to roll over the edge. Just enough time to get dressed and look presentable for work. Most of the time it meant skipping breakfast. It soon became a habit, frequently skipping meals on purpose. What had started out as a harmless one-off, soon became your sense of normality.

You only really ended up eating whenever you were out on cases, joining the rest of the team as they ordered lunch or dinner. Getting out of it was not an option.

When you were forced to take some leave from the office, everything went downhill. You failed to take care of yourself in every aspect of your life. You didn’t get out, rarely slept, never ate. All you did was stay in bed and occasionally get up to take a shower.

Work was the only purpose you really saw for your life, not even your wonderful friends were able to make it on the list.

The day finally arrived when you could go back to the office. Upon stepping into the bullpen, all eyes fell on you. Your sickly fragile figure dragging you towards your desk, where you planted yourself on the chair. What once had been you, was now an empty shell of a person.

Your clothes had gotten looser on you, the oversized look not helping your appearance in the slightest.

The last to arrive and the first to leave, that was what you were. Morgan called everyone into the conference room, needing to talk about what was happening to their friend, to you.

Hotch was worried about you too. Although he hadn’t been out of his office to welcome you back, he’d seen your grey tone. The bones in your face appeared more prominently than the last time he had seen you. The last time he had seen your smile as well.

“I’m worried about her.” Morgan started, addressing the non-present elephant in the room. He looked around at each of the members, receiving a small nod as he made the round. His gaze fell on Hotch, his cold expressionless demeanor was gone. Something in him had sparked when he saw you. The sorrow and worry were evident as Morgan decided to leave the obvious concern Hotch felt at that, an emotional twinkle in his eye.

“We didn’t even check up on her when she was on leave. I should’ve done something.” Garcia softly spoke, her voice was brittle as her eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“None of us even gave her a single thought. We’re monsters.” JJ chimed in, her head lowered down, gaze falling on the table as she fiddled with her nails. They were all beating themselves up for not having noticed. Sure. you’d stopped responding to their group chat messages, but they’d brushed it off at you wanting to stay out of work while you were gone. Something you’d never do if they really had thought about it.

That evening Hotch couldn’t stop thinking about you, pacing around in his living room. His mind wandered to you every single second. Jack was staying over at Jessica’s place, the only reassurance he needed before he grabbed his keys and left the apartment.

He found himself driving straight to your location, only making a single stop, hoping that he could manage to achieve his goal. Or at least get you to talk. All he needed was for you to talk.

A knock landed on your door, the heavy pellet-sized rain pounding against your windows. You didn’t know if you wanted to get up, even if you wanted to let the person inside.

“(Y/N)! I know you’re in there, you better open the door or so God help me I’ll kick it in!” Your boss’s voice warned from the other side of it. With a loud groan, you rose from your sprawled-out position on the couch, followed by the crackling sound of your joints and bones. Moving towards the front door, you hesitated, your hand floating above the handle.

Aaron’s tall and broad frame met your eyes as you closed your hand around the handle and carefully opened the door. His expression just as full of concern, as they’d been at the “meeting” between the other members of the BAU.

Your body looked even smaller and weaker than earlier, mostly, due to the fact that you’d wrapped yourself in a hoodie two sizes too big, which now appeared to be more like three to four times too big on you.

The dark circles around your eyes made you look like you’d been beaten up, and truth be told, that was the way your body felt as you moved around.

“I’m worried about you,” Hotch mentioned as he took a step inside of your home, letting you close the door. The polo he was wearing hugged his biceps deliciously, making them appear bigger. His legs were covered in the coarse fabric of his rarely used denim jeans.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, moving towards the kitchen, completely brushing what he’d said away. You didn’t want to confront those feelings, but Aaron wasn’t letting go as easily as you thought.

“(Y/N)! I mean it! When was the last time you ate? Or even slept?” His pitch sounded harsher than he’d initially liked. Your body tensed up as the real confrontation was starting to take over. Your back was turned towards him, rendering him unable to see the glossed-over look in your eyes. Slowly, you lifted your arm, scratching at your elbow.

Aaron heard the crackling of your skeleton as you moved, he didn’t like that sound.

“Please. You’re not alright.” He begged, you jumped as you felt his hand touch your shoulder, not having heard him move closer to you.

“Hotch, just leave me alone, please.” You begged on the verge of tears.

“Not until you eat something. Here I brought you this.” He motioned towards the Tupperware of Rossi’s famous carbonara that you loved so much. As he pulled the lid off, your mouth immediately started to water at the smell hitting your nose, but you couldn’t. You tried to tell yourself that it was okay, but you’d gone so long without sustenance, what was another day.

“Go on eat.” Hotch nodded towards the seat closest to you before moving to find the drawer that held your cutlery.

“I can’t.” You whimpered.

“Be a good girl and do what I tell you.” Hotch shook the professionalism away for a second, letting his fatherly instincts take over, reprimanding you, but in a soft way. Something that had always worked with Jack, and now seemed to work with you. Something flashed through you as the two utterly random words he stated jolted your mind awake.

Hotch made a mental note of that, the praise aspect to his words could potentially help him help you.

Cautiously you picked up the fork, prodding at the noodles with it as you pushed them around in the clear plastic bowl.

“(Y/N)!” He warned, ready to force-feed you the dish if it was the last thing he was going to do. You twirled a small amount of it on your fork, closing the gap between your mouth and the food with a shaking hand, nervous of what the outcome would be.

“That’s a good girl. See… That wasn’t so hard. Now, let’s eat some more.” Aaron praised as you swallowed the first bite. You looked up at him, the happiness that the praise brought with it lighting up your whole face. He swore he caught a glimpse of that glimmer that you used to have, just for a moment.

You slowly brought another forkful into your mouth, followed by a few praising words and encouragements until you’d finished every single bite of the meal. You felt full for the first time in a while. The drowsiness overtook your body. Aaron could tell that you were getting tired, a result of your body working to digest the first nutrient it had received in a while.

He helped you into your bedroom, getting you under the covers as you slowly started drifting off into the world of dreams awaiting you.

“Don’t leave.” You begged, looking up at him through heavy lids. Your hand was stretched out as you managed to grab a fistful of his jeans, stopping him in his tracks.

Aaron didn’t say a word before he discarded his shoes climbing into the bed. He sat on top of the covers, back pressed against the headboard. He didn’t know what to make of himself, but somehow his hand instinctively tangled itself into your roots, lightly rubbing your scalp.

You hummed in appreciation, unconsciously twisting around in your sleep to cuddle into the side of his body.

“Good girl.” He murmured, though he knew you didn’t hear him.

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bi-bard · 2 years

Text

I Miss It, I Miss You - Rory Gilmore Imagine (Gilmore Girls)

Title: I Miss It, I Miss You

Pairing: Rory Gilmore X Platonic!Reader

Based On: chemtrails

Word Count: 1,008 words

Warning(s): Rory being shitty, yelling

Summary: Rory never thought about the possibility of losing (Y/n). She should’ve known that people will only wait so long before they get tired. How long can one person go unwanted before they decide they deserve better?

Author's Note: I don't write in the third person very often, but I'm starting to explore new things and falling in love with things that I haven't written in years, so it felt like a good time to try.

I... think I interpreted this song wrong, but I think my idea still fits for the most part. (I really read very far into two lines in particular)

Lizzy McAlpine - “five seconds flat” Writing Challenge Masterlist

-----------------------------------

--Third Person P.O.V--

Rory thought that she and (Y/n) were fine.

She was convinced of the fact.

She was convinced that both of them were in agreement on that fact.

They had been friends for as long as either one of them could remember. School and activities together. (Y/n) had joined the Gilmores for their Friday night dinners on countless occasions. Rory had been adopted into the (Y/l/n) tradition of sharing encouraging messages on the Monday of every week.

They were a part of each other's family.

After moving to start college, Rory felt comfortable and like there was going to be someone there that was other than her mother.

She developed a pattern that she never really acknowledged. She would call (Y/n) whenever she was upset and ask them to come visit. (Y/n) never voiced any concern over this. They would just listen and show up, ready to support Rory in any way they could.

Rory tried to do the same, but (Y/n) rarely seemed to voice any concerns. She tried to make herself available, but they just didn't talk about their own problems very much.

Rory assumed that (Y/n) had been fine.

That was probably (Y/n)'s fault.

At least, that's what (Y/n) believed.

Can't support someone when they don't voice that they need support.

However, (Y/n) never acknowledged what had gotten them to that point. Why wouldn't (Y/n) speak up? Why would they not voice if they needed help from those around them?

The answer is quite simple, really. Guilt.

If Rory had listened, (Y/n) had voiced concerns, but only when they felt like it was completely necessary.

Rory always seemed to need (Y/n)'s comfort, so (Y/n) wanted to make sure they were available to help her. The only time it felt like they had a conversation that wasn't about comforting Rory, (Y/n) had to be the one to initiate it.

Whenever (Y/n) asked for help, Rory always felt distant. Either Rory would be too busy or would never seem to be truly listening, just waiting for the chance to turn everything back to whatever problem Rory was having at the time. It never felt worth the effort to voice what they were going through because there was no reaction that felt genuine.

(Y/n)'s step back was slow.

Not being able to drive out to see Rory all the time. Then, they were missing a few calls and rambling off something about being busy. Then, communication slowed to a stop.

(Y/n) stopped pushing and Rory didn't mind. (Y/n) wasn't useful at the time.

(Y/n) didn't talk to a lot of people about their friendship with Rory. It wasn't their place to claim if Rory was a good friend or not. They just knew that the two of them weren't good for each other.

It would've been fine. Just normal growing apart.

And then Rory and (Y/n)'s trips home lined up.

(Y/n) thought that the chances of seeing Rory were going to be pretty slim. They were wrong. Rory showed up on the doorstep of (Y/n)'s family home, asking to speak with them.

If (Y/n) had known about the risk, they would've asked their mom to turn Rory away. But it was all too late when Rory walked into their room and closed the door behind herself.

"Hey," she said awkwardly.

(Y/n) turned around to face Rory. They felt frozen in place.

"Hi," they replied. "What's up?"

"Wanted to come and visit," she shrugged. "It's been a while."

They nodded in agreement.

"Why has it been a while," she asked. "I mean... we haven't talked in a while."

"Phones do go two ways," they shrugged.

"I know," Rory nodded. "I tried to call for a while. You were always busy."

"I was too busy to drive to your school and comfort you," (Y/n) explained. "I would've been free to chat."

"What," Rory scrunched up her eyebrows.

"I... I got tired of being a therapist," they continued. "I couldn't do that anymore."

Rory just looked confused.

"Whenever you called me, it was to ask for help with something or to ask me to come over and comfort you. I was fine doing that... but I can't handle that all the time. I'm not meant to carry the weight for both of us."

"Friends are supposed to support each other."

"Where was my support, Rory?"

"What," she asked.

"You never questioned why I didn't speak about my issues very often," (Y/n) asked in response. "You always needed the support and then, when I did voice something, you would make me feel guilty or just simply unheard. I can't spend my life like that. Not anymore."

"I... I didn't know-"

"You would apologize for it," they cut her off. "So, you can't act unaware. I'm not going to push for something that has hurt me. I just won't."

"But... we're supposed to be best friends."

"Then you should've treated me like your best friend."

Rory couldn't help but notice how drained (Y/n) sounded. Like the very act of explaining this to her dragged out so much energy and pain. Pain that Rory knew about and didn't help with.

"I'd like you to go," (Y/n) said.

"No," she refused. "Not until we fix this."

"Rory, no."

"You are my best friend. I need you."

(Y/n) shot up from their chair, feeling every ounce of anger come back, "That's the problem! It's only when you need me for something!"

Rory froze.

"You need to go. Now."

Rory took a moment to let the words settle in before turning around and leaving as quickly as she could.

(Y/n) let themself drop back on the chair.

They let out a sob before covering their mouth with their hand.

Reliving it hurt so much. So much more than (Y/n) thought it was going to. After trying so hard to heal, it felt like it was all a waste of time.

(Y/n) took a deep breath, It doesn't undo your progress. Everyone has setbacks. You just need to be able to keep working.

Just keep working.

-----------------------------------

Masterlist

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

Maisie Peters - “You Signed Up for This” Writing Challenge Masterlist

#rory gilmore imagine #rory gilmore fanfiction #rory gilmore x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #gilmore girls x reader #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls fanfiction

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robinofgothamcity · 3 years

Text

scenario: you start seeing Jon which leads to the two of you having to hide it from your family and especially Damian.

pairing: jon kent ( superboy ) x fem! reader

note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / can you tell my kent family hyperfixation hasn't left yet? i swear it's becoming an issue lmaooo but this might actually be the longest fic i've written for this blog.

you talked with your friends who you had snuck into the gala with. Rachel had begrudgingly agreed to come to meanwhile Cass and Steph were the only other ones who agreed to come on their own accord.

"Damian, your only friend is here," Dick said, earning a kick from his younger brother before getting up and leaving you and Raven alone. you knew it was a rare occasion that she even decided to show up so you didn't want to leave her alone. "we probably won't see my brother for the rest of the night. whenever his friend comes, it's like everyone becomes a background character. for him being my adopted 'twin' brother, I have yet to meet this friend."

Raven laughed as you saw the wine that the couple on the dance left on your table drunkenly. the bottle was little more than half-filled and you gave one quick look to Raven before pouring the wine into both of your glasses and discarding it right away.

"to not having fun for the rest of the night," you giggled as the two of you chugged the wine down in a mere few seconds, "drier than I thought it would be but it beats having to pay for it," Raven muttered as you agreed to sneak another bottle from the bartender so you wouldn't have to pay for it. even with your dad paying for all your necessities, the drinks at his galas were far too expensive for you to even willingly pay for them yourself. the only reason why he even paid for all your expenses was because you agreed to skip out on college to help run some parts of Wayne Enterprises with your brother.

another reason why you couldn't exactly go and pay for it yourself was because Bruce was not one to exactly be chippy at the idea of you getting plastered drunk at one of his public galas. "I got one of two ideas. one: I'll go flirt with the bartender and you can sneak behind him and get the other bottle or two: I can flirt with the bartender for enough time to see if he'll just willingly give it to us," you told Raven as she nodded with option two.

the bartender happened to be in his younger 50s. you recognized him from previous WE events and although he was familiar with your family, you doubted that he would say anything to your dad about you flirting him with. all you had to do was push the top of the dress down a bit and hike up the bottom to get his attention.

"hey Martin," you said, leaning up against the bar table and smiling, "enjoying the night?" you asked as you saw him flinch back in surprise. he nodded, trying to divert his eyes from looking at you in anyway you could have felt to be disrespectful.

"I was thinking, how much does the bottle of Lafite Rothschild go for?" you asked, giving him a pouty face. he gulped nervously, "almost ten grand ma'am," he replied, grabbing it from the wine stand, "even for me? I mean, my dad must've paid for it so does it even go for that much considering I am his child?" he asked.

you could tell that you had caught him in a predicament, "I would assume not, I assume you're twenty one, right?" he murmured, handing you the precious bottle. you smiled (a fake one that anyone could see through) and nodded before giving the old man a light kiss on the cheek, "thanks Martin, I appreciate it," you said, giving him a wave before leaving.

Raven perked up seeing the bottle in your hand, "snagged a ten thousand dollar bottle," you said excitedly as you waved it in your hand. Raven stared at you in shock, "you got a ten thousand dollar bottle in less than five minutes?" she exclaimed.

you giggled before whispering in her ear, "the benefits of being a child of Bruce Wayne is that you can practically get away with anything. especially when you're the daughter." you popped open the bottle as you handed her the wine glass and poured the drink with care. you gave her a slight cheers before taking a small sip and being pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as dry for a wine with a huge amount of alcohol percentage.

as the night progressed, you and Raven got actively more drunk. you hadn't realized how hard the wine had hit you until Raven was drunkenly getting pulled home by Gar as you sat at the table with a little less than the bottle still full. you hadn't seen your dad or brother all night and you figured they must've been pulled into doing Batfamily work at some point and left you alone with Steph or Cass. hell, maybe even Dick if he was still around.

you weren't actively apart of the vigilante work all of your siblings did but you did help them out with the technical parts of it when Tim wasn't available. you didn't really like fighting or risking your life so after you graduated, you interned at Wayne Enterprises under Tim's orders while Damian worked under your dad.

at the age of twenty-one, you still hadn't met most of the league for the exception of Wonder Woman and The Flash. the rest were strangers in your head and much to Damian's luck, he wanted to keep it that way. at least in his case with Jon.

"ow, I am so sorry," you slurred as you managed to hit someone on the shoulder. he chuckled seeing as how you were not attempting to get up, "you okay there ma'am?" the man with a southern accent asked. you giggled as you attempted to get up, "I'm ( your name ) and you are?" you asked.

"Jon Kent, pleasure to meet you," he said, kissing your hand. you blushed as you heard one of your favorite songs come through the speakers, "would you like to dance?" you asked, not even caring that you had met this just a few mere seconds ago. he nodded, figuring that since Damian left him stranded at the gala, he had nothing to lose.

the song 'telepatia' by Kali Uchis played throughout the ballroom. Jon immediately took the reigns as the lead as the lights got dimmer and you danced against Jon sensually. "what got you dragged here?" you asked Jon. "my best friend invited me as his plus one. you?" he whispered in your ear, "I work for the company so I kind of had to attend," you managed to say before turning around and facing him.

you looked at Jon with drunken yet loving eyes, "you're handsome, you know that?" you said with no hesitation in your face. Jon laughed, placing his hand on your cheek, "right back at ya, darlin'," he replied as the song switched to another one of your favorite songs.

side to side by ariana grande started.

you shrugged, feeling as though you had nothing to lose and got up on your toes gave Jon a kiss on his lips. he was slightly taken back but played it off by returning it. the two of you remained kissing through the entirety of the song until Jon felt a familiar tap on his shoulder.

"I gotta go but if you're up for it, I'd love for ya to give me your number," you nodded excitedly as you practically snatched his phone from his hand and typed it in as quickly as possible with your name having a hundred emoji's next to it, "text me in the morning!" you screamed.

Jon laughed before following Damian from behind, "you suck, you know that!" Jon exclaimed, "I meet one girl I actually like and you drag me away!" Damian rolled his eyes, "please, you act like there isn't more girls out there to hit on." this time, it was Jon's turn to roll his eyes, "I got her number so I guess that's a plus."

you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache but to a few messages on your phone. you smiled realizing that it was the boy you had met the night before.

"good morning...or actually good afternoon!"

Jon laughed from his side of the phone.

"good afternoon darlin'. I hope you had a good sleep."

you were texting your way down the stairs, greeting Alfred and Bruce before grabbing a plate of lunch and sitting down on the bar top. "what time you'd make it home?" Bruce asked, sensing the hangover you had. "a bit past midnight. drank a bottle of Lafite with Raven before dancing with a boy you invited," you said honestly.

Bruce felt himself go stiff at the admittance of you drinking the Lafite bottle but remained silent as Alfred placed Advil and one of your Gatorades next to you. "yeah, whoever must've danced with you last night must've been drunk too because you'd want to dance with you?" Damian said coming down the stairs.

you threw him a fork, Damian dodging it with ease, "I'd shut up if I were you. I'm actually getting coffee with the guy in like an hour," you replied, chugging down the rest of the food before getting up and going to your room, "yeah and I pray for the man who now has to deal with you," Damian screamed loud enough for you to hear.

you pulled on a skirt and tights before slipping on a sweater and fixing your hair and quickly doing your makeup. you grabbed the keys from your bag and took the back entrance to get to your car. one of the benefits of getting paid so much was that you were able to afford cars that were out of price range for a lot of people your age.

the coffee shop you decided to meet Jon at was a few blocks into the heart of central Gotham. you got a table farthest from the crowd as you didn't want any attention on you and your potential boyfriend. you saw Jon approaching at the front of the coffee shop and pulled on your sunglasses so no one outside could see who you were.

"nice to meet you, this time with me not being drunk," you told Jon, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, "pleasure is all mine sweetheart," he replied, putting his arm around your shoulder. you got up to the front of cashier and scanned the menu.

"I'd like a venti mocha with oatmilk, what about you?" you asked Jon as he scanned the menu nervously before muttering that he hardly orders coffee. you smiled, "and an order of a grande peppermint hot chocolate," you added on as you took your card out, Jon's eyes widening at the black American Express card.

"wow, Wayne Enterprises must pay you really well," he exasperated, "yeah, I guess you could say that," you said as hesitantly as possible. after the two of you got the coffees, you got back to the table as you took off your sunglasses in a sigh of relief.

"do you really wear sunglasses everywhere you go?" Jon asked. you debated on telling him the actual reason but decided on a vague answer, "eh, it's more for secrecy. I guess if I get another date, I might tell you the real reason," you winked, making Jon blush.

through the weeks, you decided to keep the biggest part of your life a semi secret to Jon still. he knew vaguely of a few things but one mistake on your end managed to throw all of that away in more ways than one.

you were walking downtown with Jon, his hand grasping yours as the two of you roamed an area of town that you knew didn't have major significance to WE. you were holding a coffee in one hand as you walked about a few things that happened to you that week to Jon. it wasn't until you walked towards a busy street that your heart fell to your stomach.

a huge billboard, like signs you would see on highways, of you and Damian representing Wayne Enterprises stood in the middle of an intersection. you stared at the ground, your one secret given away as Jon stared down at you, a look of shock in his eyes.

"wait, you work with Damian Wayne?" he asked as he could tell that you did not want to look at him. you sighed, a bit scared, "work partners might be a little too far from what we are," you gulped, finally realizing that you had to admit to your family ties.

Jon looked at you, now more confused than shocked.

what you didn't know was that at the same time that you were about to confess everything to Jon, a paparazzi had taken dozens of photos of you and Jon that were immediately uploaded to various Twitter accounts and gossip magazines.

"Damian Wayne is my adopted brother. Bruce Wayne is my adopted dad. that's why I have a lot more money than any regular Wayne Enterprise worker."

Jon immediately stumbled to the ground, not expecting that answer coming from you. you immediately felt tears hitting your eyes as you figured that maybe Jon didn't want to be with someone so rich and famous. someone's whose family was always in the spotlight.

"DAMIAN WAYNE IS YOUR BROTHER?" Jon screamed, catching you off guard as this was the first time Jon had ever screamed at you. you nodded, trying not to look at him in the eyes, "he's going to kill me. your entire family is going to plot my murder. I'm a dead man. Clark is going to find me in a ditch," Jon started talking to himself.

it was now your turn to look at Jon confused, "wait, what?" you asked, wiping your tears. "YOUR BROTHER IS MY BEST FRIEND. Damian Wayne is Robin and I'm Superboy!" he whispered the last part, "I've been dating my best friends sister this entire time without realizing it!" he screamed.

you finally connected the dots. every time Damian said he was going on patrol with Superboy meant that he was going to hang out with Jon and every time Damian said that Jon turned down a patrol session usually meant that you were going on a date with him. both of you stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

"small world, eh?" you asked, trying to defuse the tension, "guess we better figure out a way to tell them, huh?" Jon replied as you both heard your phone going off with texts and calls. you opened it to see that Dick, Bruce, Tim, and even Jason and Alfred were frantically calling you.

"hello, what happened?" you asked, picking up Dick's call. "GET HOME NOW!" he yelled through the phone as you heard Damian's screeching voice from the other side, "why? what happened?" you asked, staring at Jon now in fear.

"SHE'S DATING JON? I'M GOING TO KILL HIM BEFORE I KILL HER!" you heard Damian scream before something broke, "pictures of you kissing Jon came to the public on Twitter and he saw them," Jason said, half annoyed.

both of your hearts fell to your stomach as you realized it was now or never. everyone knew of your relationship and it wasn't even something both of you tried to do intentionally. you grabbed Jon's hand, yours shaking in fear as you got into the passenger side of his beat up red truck. he could tell you were beyond scared to go home and he now knew it was time. he had to man up before it got worse and you attempted to break up with him.

once you arrived to Wayne Manor, you sat still, not moving an inch. "it'll be okay darlin', I promise it won't be too bad," he murmured as he opened your door. you nodded as you hopped off and started walking towards the door.

you could hear Damian's yells still going on from the other side door as you opened it. you grasped Jon's hand and walked into the living space, Damian's eyes immediately looking at you before charging to Jon with every ounce of strength he had. Jason quickly grabbed you as Jon dodged him and Damian went straight to attack him again. you couldn't bare to look at the sight and felt tears spring to your eyes as you hid your face into Jason's side.

"hey, you okay?" Jason asked. he could see the tears in your eyes which instantly made him a bit upset. "enough," Jason screamed, catching everyone's attention. Jon and Damian saw the hurt look on your face and as soon as Jon realized you were upset at the fight he was having, he kicked Damian off of him and walked towards you.

he grabbed your hand and whispered an apology into your ear as he stroked your cheek lovingly, "I'm sorry dear but I wasn't expecting Damian to do this," Jon said as Damian watched the way Jon was treating you. a part of him knew that Jon would treat you right. Jon wasn't like your typical average boy but the fact that neither of you told him is what set him off and seeing you being so lovingly with Jon set him off again.

Damian ran towards Jon again but this time, you shielded him which made him stop immediately, "Damian, stop, please," you croaked. Bruce saw you trying to neutralize the situation and stood next to Damian, hinting at him to quit it, "I'm sorry we never told you but the reason why we never did was because we had no idea who the other was. I didn't know Jon was your best friend and clearly didn't know that he was Superboy and he had no idea I was even related to you nevertheless your sister. please, if it's anyone's fault, it's mine," you explained.

Dick, Jason, and Tim stared at Jon who grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side, "and I would have never made the move if I knew she was your sister but we fell in love and it was like a soulmate connection. we were meant for each other and I want her to be in my life. she's it for me," Dick sighed mesmerized as Tim and Jason gagged at the cheesy confession.

Damian growled, "if you even think of hurting her, Clark will be down one son and I mean it. that's my sister and no man will ever be good enough for her. you are my best friend and she might be a pain in my ass, she means the world to me. I will not hesitate to dig your grave and bury you alive if I see one tear of sadness coming down her face," Damian stated before hitting Jon on the shoulder purposely before walking away.

you smiled, your heart swelling at Damian's speech. he never once said anything like that about you and in his Damian way of being, you knew this was his way of accepting your relationship with Jon. you smiled at Jon before giving him a huge kiss on the lips, making your dad and all of your brothers gag at the sight.

"okay, save that shit for privacy, no one needs to see that," Jason said as he walked away. Bruce gave you one look before turning to Jon, "your father knows in case you were wondering but feel free to stay for dinner if you'd like," Bruce said before walking away with Tim and Dick walking away with him.

"I love you," you whispered to Jon as he let out a laugh against your lips, "I love you too and I'm all of this was cleared out." you nodded in agreement as you grasped his hand, "wanna come up to my room? I figured we should catch some sleep before Alfred calls everyone for dinner and Damian starts another fight," Jon agreed, giving you a kiss on your head as the two of you walked up the stairs.

#dc comics #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc #jon kent x y/n #jon kent x reader #jon kent imagine #superboy x y/n #superboy x reader #superboy imagine #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #robin

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