#ivy city co

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Remi Dress from Ivy City Co ($158), Trendy CC Top Handle Metallic Bag from Chanel (n/a) and Michaela Mary Jane Flat in Bright White from Sam Edelman ($130)

[pyroreadscomics]

As much as enjoyed Gotham City Sirens (2024) as a month long dumb fun break from the various on-goings of everyone involved, it does have two fairly fundamental problems that will need to be fixed the next time someone takes a swing at a GCS story line:

First, it feels like someone came up with a Punchline story first, and then made the GCS the protagonists, rather than coming up with a Sirens story from the start. Second, and much more important, Selina is both romantically and narratively the third wheel of the Sirens.

[arlathen]

if these amazon ass brands actually made these whimsical skirts and dresses out of, like, real fabric instead of the world's cheapest tissue paper plastic blends and in sizes designed to fit humans. like I'd pay $150 for that. but they DONT.

[roseserpentpress]

Comments and fic links below! (PS: click to see not crap quality photos/videos)

First finished ficbind for 2024, and first that I actually tried my hand at gold leafing (compared to previous use of gold inking). The gilding uses a hand-painted on glue and then the gold sheet overload and rubbed off; since the glue is put down not flat it adds a bit of texture to it, much like embroidery which I found cool. The design was based off a old cover design which I altered slightly to fit for the title of the book; been wanting to use one of the designs for a very long time now so rather chuffed to use one this time round, and (generally) well please with the typesetting. I actually painted the cover all in one long day with one piece running in the background during the holidays, lol. Two photos below are WIP photos and one including one of my su-purr-visors on my very cluttered desk. He's since passed due to being hit by a car, so the photos of him supervising me for this fanbind is something special to me.

The book itself contains mainly the Trigun vashwood fic Trillium and Ivy and upon remembering that there's a few other shorter stories involved, it became an impromptu anthology of the series. So overall it contains:

Trillium and Ivy (E, 80k)

Nick Wolfwood is the new director of Conrad-Chapel Funeral Home in May City, located across the street from Saverem Greenhouse & Landscaping. Over time, the owner, Vash, gets to know Nick and introduces him to the rest of the neighborhood, including local busybodies and married feminist bookshop owners Meryl and Milly. Vash and Nick are inexorably drawn to each other until they have to start admitting their feelings.

But Vash's brother, co-owner of the garden center, hasn't left his past as far behind as the twins had hoped when they started their lives over in May.

Raise a Glass to the Turnings of the Season (G, 7k)

A collection of small ficlets set in the universe of Trillium and Ivy, a modern AU in which Wolfwood runs a funeral home across the street from Vash and Knives' garden center.

Regarding the subjects of hospital visits, body image issues, adoption, laundry, and more.

I've seen all the demons that you've got (T, 8k)

The Hollywood-glam-slash-mad-scientist meet cute is going perfectly well, thank you. Except for all the anxiety, loneliness, insomnia, nightmares, body dysmorphia, identity struggles, poor communication, stalkers, arson, kidnapping, drugs, and concussions.

Other than those things... Knives might actually be onto a good thing in his life for once.

[A brief look into Knives' experience during Trillium and Ivy, a modern AU in which Wolfwood runs a funeral home across the street from Vash and Knives' garden center.]

[thebiggerbear]

"You're safe now. I'm here." - Russell Shaw Prompt Response Part 1

Summary: You've been taken hostage and Russell is part of the unit sent in to retrieve you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

A/N: This is a prompt from @sydnee-kom-spacekru that I had to turn into a two-parter because it got way too long for just one posting. I've been working on this since May 19th when I decided to add Russell to the multi-character prompt response project I'm currently working on.

For this story, I chose Colombia as the country featured in here because I remember when we were growing up, we would ask our parents why we couldn't visit our cousins from there, and we were told it was too dangerous. As we grew older, we obviously found out why. That's the only reason I chose it for that part of the story. Obviously, I'm not making any statements, political or otherwise, about Colombia or any past/present situation happening there.

A little bit of a disclaimer: I do not work in the medical field so I apologize for any inconsistencies, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. I did my best to research but ultimately, I'm not trained in that industry. I also am not in the military, political, or governmental fields. I also am not the CEO of a major corporation. I utilized those parts of the story strictly for fictional purposes. So I apologize in advance again if I get anything incorrect for those fields.

All unbeta'd.

Part 2 (coming very soon)

WARNINGS: graphic violence; attempted sexual assault; trauma; graphic blood/injury; gun violence/gunfire; mentions of dead bodies; death; mentions of execution; kidnapping/hostage situation; PTSD; angst

Word Count: 11k+

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

Soldier Boy version ✨ SDV Leah version

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You slowly glanced around the room you were being held in. You winced when the pain in your head started up again from the movement. You knew you had some cuts on your face, your lip, and one near your hairline. One of the people who had taken you and your co-workers hostage had shouted at you in Spanish and worked you over a little. You understood most of what he had screamed but you had no answers for him. 

You and your team had come down to visit the Bogota office upon the insistence of your father. The company his grandfather had started decades prior had expanded to become one of the top corporations in the United States, eventually branching out internationally. Growing up, you hadn’t wanted for anything. As you got older and entered high school, your father made it clear to you, being his only child, that he wanted you to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business one day. It wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of but it had been made known from the outset that whatever you might want would never matter in the scheme of things. Not when it came to the importance of legacy and carrying on the family name and the company’s brand, all while working closely with the Board. So, you had pursued your business degree in college at an Ivy League school, even going so far as to achieve your MBA and make your father proud.

You were quickly welcomed into the company and you put your nose to the grindstone, worked hard, and began to climb the corporate ladder. A lot of people knew that had to do with your last name but they also saw you working the same long hours as them, working just as much, and sacrificing any semblance of a personal life you could have had. You didn’t even have plants in your lavish city apartment because you were practically never there to water them. Weekends were a concept that ceased to exist the moment you left the university. If your co-workers worked 60-hour work weeks, you worked 80. If they worked through holidays like Memorial Day and July 4th, you worked those days, too, in addition to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. So you earned some respect, some envy, and some resentment — a healthy mix of it all as you raced to the top at your father’s constant prodding. 

Only a year ago, you’d moved to Manhattan to run the New York office, a promotion that had your father beaming with pride. It was a bit of a transition, as any transition would be, but ultimately, you got to know your team, your department heads, and you’d settled in as best you could. You never truly relaxed into your role but you let your employees know up front that you were there to make things easier, not more difficult. You were interested in flooding the figurative harbor so everyone’s boats would rise, not just yours or the Board’s. Your father had not appreciated that little introductory speech you had made but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it. You had meant every word and you set out every single day to not only prove yourself but to also make that vision come true. 

Which was partially what had brought you to the Bogota office. While you were responsible for New York, your father had made the valid point that you should travel to the international offices of Bogota, London, and Beijing. You should show your face and introduce yourself in person, not just on Zoom. You had been hesitant, not because you didn’t want to visit the sites and meet the crews, but because you still didn’t feel confident that you could afford to be away from your home office for that long (it would be about a two and a half week trip). Not because you didn’t trust your team to run things without you but because you had several projects in the works that required your constant participation, feedback, approval, and sometimes guidance. It felt strange to put it all at risk by choosing the most inopportune moment for you to go shake hands on the international stage and take tours of the other facilities. You didn’t want to leave your team in a lurch at a dire time such as this one. You had tried to explain all of this to your father when he grew irritated at your resistance.

“Stop with the excuses. You’re going and that’s final,” he had snapped at you before leaving your office. And that had been that. 

The next morning, you and a few selected co-workers (handpicked by your father) were on a flight to Bogota, the first stop on your international tour. Thankfully, Colombia was only one hour behind New York so you’d be able to check in with your office as soon as you landed. 

Things were going well with your visit, right up until the moment you and your team were leaving the building to head back to the hotel for a late lunch when you were ambushed. A black hood had been thrown over your head, you’d felt pain as something hit you from the side, and the next thing you knew, you woke up in a vehicle that you could feel and hear but not see. You had no idea what happened until you were instructed in Spanish to shut up, stay quiet and not struggle, and you wouldn’t get hurt. You knew you were in trouble when you came to but now you knew without a doubt as you listened to the conversation between the men surrounding you, you had been taken hostage.

You had no idea where they had brought you but you’d been there for what felt like a month though you couldn’t be sure. You had been held in the same room, only able to use the bathroom which they escorted you to. You were in some compound and any time you’d tried to sneak a peek out of an open window during your bathroom treks, you either got yelled at and hit or you could only make out a thick cover of trees. You and your group had been terrified every single day of your captivity that they would kill you all, or worse. You had three men in your group and four women including you. One of the kidnappers had already tried to take advantage of that fact and had thrown Meredith from Finance onto the floor, unbuckling his pants. You had begged in Spanish for her to be left alone while Pat and Suzanne had cried and screamed. Tim, Jerry, and Rob had all been taken to the bathroom beforehand (something that hadn’t happened before, they usually took the guys one at a time) so it had been just you four in the room. When the man didn’t show any signs of stopping and Meredith tearfully begged him from the floor to let her be, something switched off in your brain and you flew at him. You attempted to hit him anywhere you could but he knocked you down flat in seconds. He backhanded you a couple of times, making the women in the background scream louder, and he then decided you were going to be the one he was going to assault instead. He ripped your shirt and you tried to fight him off but he was too strong. Thankfully, another kidnapper heard all of the commotion and came running, rushing into the room and stopping the man, yelling at him that none of you were to be touched, that was part of the deal. Your would-be assailant yelled back at the man who had saved you and then got to his feet, spitting on you, as he stormed out of the room, followed by your unintentional savior. 

You attempted to cover yourself with the shreds of your shirt but it was useless. You now only had a bra and little bits of cloth left from how violently he had torn the fabric. You were shaking but somehow you were able to crawl your way over to Meredith to check on her. Sobbing, she held onto you and before you knew it, Pat and Suzanne had rushed over, throwing their arms around you both, still crying themselves but also trying to speak reassurances to you both. Your body shook in their embrace as it finally hit you how close you had come to being assaulted. If that other man hadn’t interrupted when he did… You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t long after that when Tim, Jerry, and Rob were returned to the room, their hoods removed, and one glance in your direction let them know immediately what had happened. Rob had actually removed his shirt and offered it to you, apologizing for the smell. You appreciated his selfless gesture but you were thankful when Tim instead offered up the windbreaker pullover he had been wearing the day you had been taken. You took the latter, thanking them both for their generosity and thoughtfulness. Tim at least still had his t-shirt.

Then, a couple of days later, you had been dragged from the room, thrust into a chair, and tied up. The questioning began, about the money from your company among other things, and you were worked over when they didn’t get the answers they wanted. You hadn’t noticed a man holding a smartphone while sitting in the corner, taking in every second of the torture you endured, until your interrogation ended. You had been afraid but seeing that phone…you were absolutely terrified. Were they going to kill you on video, sending it off to media outlets to share globally for your father to see? Or would they use social media?

They didn’t end up killing you, though. Instead, they brought you to a room with a single bed that you had never seen before. You did not like the fact that you had been separated from your group. You began to hyperventilate at the realization that they were isolating you for a purpose, thinking you would be attacked again, especially when you heard a loud gunshot reverberate from outside followed by yelling that you couldn’t quite make out. But instead of anyone coming to hurt you, they sent in a doctor to tend to your wounds. Once he had, you curled up into a ball and hugged your knees to your chest, waiting for the worst to happen, intent on fighting tooth and nail when the time came. But a few days later or however long it had been, they brought you back into the interrogation room again. 

You expected the blows this time though they still hurt horribly. They began to cut you on your arms, near your neck, your shoulders, your torso…they never cut your face, though. While you were grateful for that small mercy, they still beat the hell out of you, the worst they ever had. While your face may have been spared the cutting, it was not spared the hits. You had even taken a couple of hard blows to the head that left you reeling. You didn’t even remember if you had screamed, cried, or begged for them to stop. Instead, you remembered some random saying in some movie you had seen stating that pain was the way you knew you were still alive. You held onto that as they continued to inflict as much damage as they could without actually killing you or making it impossible for you to speak. They had even unzipped Tim’s pullover at the beginning of the torture, leaving you in your bra, and besides the cuts they had also landed punches to your already severely bruised stomach and sides. They had even stomped on your bare feet, making you cry out as some of your toes broke from the force. They had even taken a bat to your right knee. That time you screamed the loudest you ever had in your life, sobbing so hard you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop. The pain was immense, something you hadn’t felt before, and tears poured down your face, mixing with the blood dripping from a busted lip and most likely broken nose. When they stopped to take a break, it didn’t surprise you in the least that the same man with the phone from last time was there in the same corner. It did surprise you, though, that they didn’t leave. While you figured they were just ramping up to go for a second round, something told you that you may not come out alive from this particular interrogation. You could only hope the others you had been brought here with somehow did. A small part of you wondered if the reason they were going harder on you this time, possibly about to kill you on video, is because your company didn’t pay the sum demanded in the last one. You knew your father must have done everything he could to secure your release, even if the Board for some reason hadn’t. You hadn’t prayed since you were a girl, right before your mother died, but you sent a silent one up anyway to anyone who might be listening that your father would never see this footage. It would destroy him if he did. You didn’t expect much, though. Your mom had still passed away from a terminal illness, so you were pretty sure your father wouldn’t be spared seeing your last moments like this.

But instead of starting back up again as you anticipated, the men ended up stepping outside of the room though they left the phone behind, on some sort of stand, still pointing in your direction. 

So now here you were, your body exhausted yet radiating nothing but pain. You slowly swung your head around in a daze, blinking against the bright light they had turned on before leaving. You waited for them to come back, to finally do their worst and possibly end your life. You were terrified but you also knew how badly injured you were, that there was nothing you could do. Even if you could somehow get loose, how would you manage to escape? Even if you got outside, this compound was heavily patrolled by armed guards. And even if by some miracle you could get past them without being seen or an alarm being sounded when your absence was discovered, you had no idea where you were. You were in the jungle for Christ’s sake, from the brief glimpses you’d managed to catch on your bathroom runs. You had no idea where to go from here. Still, though, you heard that small voice inside your head, telling you to fight, not to give in or give up. You had to work hard, be the best, and prove yourself. Go, go, go. The voice sounded strangely like your father’s. 

As you waited for your captors to come back, you glanced around the room to see if there was anything that could help you. You attempted to move your arms but gasped in pain when you did. You didn’t even try anything with your right leg. You knew your kneecap was broken; it had to be. You chanced moving your left leg, though, but it didn’t budge. You were stuck to this chair.

Suddenly, you heard the last thing you expected. Gunfire. 

Not that gunfire was all that unusual around here. You had heard some happen during your captivity but it was short and never answered. You and your co-workers had no idea what went on in the rest of the compound but after hearing those rounds being fired every so often, you didn’t really want to know.

But these were extended rapid bursts of gunfire and someone was definitely shooting back. Not to mention all of the furious yelling you could hear down the hall. You idly wondered if one of your people got free and they were making a break for it. If it was, you hoped they got free and were able to go for help. 

You knew you should be scared as the gunshots got closer to you, when you heard more yells and some thuds right outside your door, but you simply resigned yourself to your fate. Especially when one of the kidnappers burst into the room and held a gun to your head, yelling in Spanish at an unseen person to stay back or he would kill you. Your body began to shake uncontrollably once more, thinking this was it. You knew it; you were going to die. 

Two men swept into the room, dressed in tactical-looking gear and donning black face masks with holes only for eyes and mouths, assault rifles pointed in your captor’s direction. The man on your right told him to let you go in Spanish or he would be dead before he could squeeze a round off. 

The man on your left briefly glanced at you, his gaze an assessing one, before focusing back onto his target. Your captor screamed at them and pushed the gun into your temple, making you shake harder and take shallow breaths. 

“You got him?” The man on the left asked, surprising you when you heard him speak English. He sounded…American. 

“I got him,” the man on the right answered. Another American.

The kidnapper must have understood them because he gripped your head and pulled it back, pushing his gun now into the side of your face, making you scream out in pain. You heard a gunshot and suddenly the barrel against your cheek was gone as was the pressure around your head. A loud thud sounded as your captor’s body fell to the ground behind you and you moved your head to a position that didn’t hurt so much.

The two men were suddenly there, the one on the left laying a hand on your shoulder. “Please…don’t hurt me,” you begged in a raspy whisper. You followed it up with the same plea in Spanish, still not sure who you were exactly dealing with as your head swam.

“Hey,” the left soldier spoke softly. “Look at me.”

You did the best you could. It shocked you to see green eyes staring back at you with something that looked like kindness. Kindness…you hadn’t seen that in what felt like forever. Considering you’d only seen hatred and disgust from everyone around you since this whole ordeal started, this was something new and you held onto it with all of your might. 

“We’re here to get you out. Just hold on.” He pulled out a switchblade and you immediately gasped and began to shake again. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just cutting the ropes,” he explained gently as he did it. “See?” You carefully moved your head to gaze down, seeing that he was indeed doing as he said. 

Once you were free, you began to slide off of the chair, unable to sit up right due to your head still swimming. The movement caused you to cry out in pain from your injured knee being jostled when he caught you and lifted your arm around his shoulders to gently help you back into your original seated position. Your body still shaking, your brain told you that he was telling you the truth and he had just proved it, but you were still terrified and unsure of what to believe — no matter how kind his eyes were. “Shh, you’re safe now. I’m here and I’m going to get you out. I’m guessing they did a number on your legs?” He frowned down at your bloody feet. 

“My knee,” you quietly sobbed, the pain still radiating throughout your right leg. “They—they broke it.”

“Shit,” he muttered, studying the leg you had glanced at. 

In the background, you noticed the other man grab the smartphone and slip it into his pocket before heading back over in your direction. “What are we doing, man? Grab her and let’s go. Clock’s ticking.”

The man crouched in front of you looked up at the other one. “She can’t walk.” He inclined his head in the direction of your knee. “We’re going to have to carry her out.”

“Fucking hell,” the other one hissed. “Maybe we can get in touch with the chopper and get an evac.”

The man in front of you shook his head. “No, this is supposed to be a quick in and out. We have to get to the extraction point. They’re not coming for us.” So maybe these two were soldiers? They sounded like they might be military. Had your father somehow managed to get the government to send the US military in to rescue you?

“But, there’s no way we can—”

“No time for this, man. We’ve got to move now before reinforcements arrive.” Your rescuer turned back to you. “Alright, listen, I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell. I’m going to try my best to take it easy on you but we have to get you out of here now.”

You shook your head, causing tears to roll down your face. You wouldn’t admit it but you were as scared of the pain as you were to go out into the chaos you still heard happening outside of the room you were in. 

He laid his hand on your shoulder again and locked gazes with you. “We have to do this. I told you before. I’m here to get you out and that means I’m not leaving without you.” He very gently rubbed at your shoulder in reassurance. “So, just try to relax and I’ll—” He carefully tried to slip his free hand underneath your legs and gingerly lift them but the movement caused you to scream in pain. 

“Okay, okay,” your soldier soothed and backed off.

The other soldier was shaking his head. “We are so fucked.”

“Hey, we’re not.” Your guy turned to give him a sharp look. “Just give me a second with her.”

The other one let out an aggravated sigh and impatiently pointed to his watch before holding his rifle up and leaving the room. 

Your soldier glanced back at you. “Okay. Time for some real talk. We’ve got about seventeen minutes to get to the extraction point which is out of this place and up the hill on the north side. Which would be, not exactly a cakewalk because it would still be tough, but if you were able to use your legs and we were running, we’d probably make it there in the next fifteen despite any resistance we might encounter. But, this is—”

“Going to slow you down,” you choked out. “I’m not going to make it.” More tears rolled down your cheeks, stinging when they came into contact with your injuries. If you had to be left behind, you knew you would die. No question about it.

“Hey,” he spoke softer than he had a moment ago. “I told you I’m not leaving here without you and I meant it. So don’t go thinking anything like that.” His eyes narrowed slightly as your head became too heavy to try to hold up. His hand was suddenly behind your neck, helping you, as he visually inspected one of the wounds at your hairline. “Dammit,” you heard him mutter. “Okay, I’m getting you out of here.”

He bent down to scoop you up but you grabbed onto his uniform, gripping a bit of the fabric in your fingers though it hurt to do so. He turned to look at you and you shook your head, whimpering. “Please,” you begged. 

He reached up with a gloved hand and gently wiped under your eyes with his thumb. “I’m sorry but I have to. If I don’t…” He didn’t finish that sentence but he didn’t need to; the concern you saw in his green gaze said more than enough, and confirmed what he had already told you. “I know the pain is going to be a bitch and a half, but you’ve got to push through as best you can. I’ll carry you and get you to that chopper, I promise, but I need you to hold on. If you have to cry, scream, hell, even bite down on me, you do whatever you’ve got to do. But we’re doing this and we’re doing it now. You ready?”

“N-No.” Your voice wobbled a little bit but you heard him. You were going to try your best but you were still scared of the impending pain. “I’ll try.”

“Atta girl.” He gently positioned you as close to him as possible, zipping up the pullover that your captors had left open, and then carefully placed his free arm under your legs again. You got ready for the pain and whimpered again when he got ready to lift you. “I promise, after this, we’ll get that knee looked at, and that head injury, as soon as we get you someplace safe. Hey, look at me.” You struggled to meet his eyes but when you did, you saw the kindness from earlier staring back at you. “You’ve got this. You’ve made it this far and you’re going to make it all the way. I’m going to make sure you do.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, afraid to speak any louder when the threat of the impending pain. Almost as if you spoke a half a decibel higher, you might make it hurt worse than it already was going to. It didn’t make sense but you weren’t exactly thinking straight right then. 

You held onto the outer edge of his vest, wincing at the flare up of pain in your hand, as ready as you could possibly be in that moment. 

He gave you another second, a brief respite from what was to come, and then a nod. “Alright, here we go.”

The man slowly lifted you and it hurt, sure, but what really hurt was when gravity did its work when he carefully got to his feet. You couldn’t help but cry out. You immediately stuck your thumb knuckle into your mouth and bit down, hoping this would all be over very soon.

The other soldier appeared in the doorway, having heard your cries. Your soldier took a few steps towards him, forcing you to bite harder into your skin and more tears to roll down your cheeks. “Let’s get moving. Call the bird and let them know we’re on our way.” The man nodded and turned, speaking to someone to let them know you were about to leave the compound and would need backup on the way. 

When he turned around and gave you both a nod, your soldier held you a little closer to him. “You take point and lead us out. We’re good.” He then turned a reassuring smile on you. “Aren’t we?”

You wanted to answer him but you couldn’t. He hadn’t even started really moving yet and already the pain was agonizing. Instead, you carefully laid your head on his shoulder, feeling pure exhaustion wash over you that left an even foggier trace behind in your mind.

“Let’s do this.” Your soldier looked back towards the door and began to follow his fellow soldier out of the room. You gasped from the pain, bit into your flesh harder, and ignored the tears spilling onto your face. You weren’t going to be able to hold back the pained cries for long. You had no idea how you weren’t screaming at this point.

As you all turned down a hallway, you couldn’t help but think of the others and that provided a momentary distraction. “What about—my people?” You asked through gritted teeth.   

“Already extracted,” he whispered. “Now it’s your turn, Y/N.”

You were still fighting your way through a misty fog of pain and sluggishness but that caught your attention. You released your thumb and stuttered out, “You know my name.”

“Of course I know your name. We came here for you.” He shot you a wink and then proceeded to carefully make his way down the stairs after the way forward was cleared. 

You idly wondered about that as you held onto him, noting several dead bodies in your peripherals but refusing to look straight at them. You could hear him huffing and puffing next to you and you felt badly that he had to carry you because you were unable to walk. A couple of times, he had to stop and hunker down with you while the other soldier engaged the remaining kidnappers you came across. The third time, it was a struggle for you but you whispered, “Slowing you down. Not —gonna make it.”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got you,” he murmured back. And sure enough, once it was clear again, you were on the move. Before long, you had met up with more soldiers (the backup that must have been called for) and one of them offered to take you. You involuntarily tightened your grip on your rescuer’s vest and he shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.” 

Eventually, you made your way out onto the terrain and you could no longer hold back your pained cries. “Almost there,” he promised. After what felt like prolonged agony, you finally reached an area where a helicopter was indeed waiting. The sight of it made something that felt like relief loosen inside your chest. You were really going to make it out of here alive. Your soldier went to hand you off to another inside when your fingers tightened reflexively around him again. “It’s just for a second to let me get in,” he reassured you. 

You nodded, hoping it wouldn’t hurt as bad as that run had, and let him go. Once you were all boarded onto the helicopter, you were moved around again until you were back in your soldier’s embrace, holding tightly onto him as the aircraft lifted into the air and headed away from the compound where more gunfire erupted. 

You tried to ask him something but he couldn’t hear you so he ducked his head near yours. “Where are my people?” You asked as loudly as you could, taking every little bit of strength you had left. You were still under the fog, but you still noticed your co-workers weren’t in the helicopter with you. 

He turned and placed his lips near your ear. “They’re in another chopper!” You had all made it safely out. Thank God.

You nodded and laid your head against his shoulder, completely spent and feeling the throbbing of pain in your body intensify, making you acutely aware of all the rest of your injuries. The pain radiated from your knee outwardly and now you could feel it in your torso, your arms, your head… Your eyes began to close of their own accord when he shook your shoulder a little. “I’m sure all you want to do right now is sleep but I need you to stay awake. At least until the docs get a good look at you!”

You blinked dazedly up at him. “I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, not even sure he heard you. The tide of pain was washing you under.

He then did the last thing you expected. He lifted his mask and you finally saw the man underneath, the owner of those green eyes that you had been holding onto during this entire ordeal. 

“Man, what the hell are you doing?” You heard yelled nearby, but your soldier kept his eyes on yours.

“I need you to stay awake, Y/N! You think you can do that for me?”

You took in his features, your fingers carefully lifting up to touch the thick beard he sported, noting the dirt and grime smears all over his face, but his eyes were what captivated you. Now without the mask in the way, you were free to get lost in those green orbs as deeply as you dared. Too bad you couldn’t seem to stay conscious. 

He shook you again. “Y/N! Hey! Stay awake!”

“Sorry,” you slurred before everything went black.

The next time you jerked into consciousness, screaming out in pain, the helicopter had just landed and your soldier, once again wearing his face mask, was yelling instructions to the men around him. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were, the pain was that intense. You were lifted out into another soldier’s arms and looking past him, you saw a second helicopter not that far away. You watched as your co-workers were ushered off of it alongside other masked soldiers but something didn’t seem right. You weren’t sure what it was but something was off to you.

You were placed into someone else’s arms and you saw the eyes of your rescuer once again, softening when he saw that you were crying.

“Something’s—wrong.” 

“Stay with me this time, Y/N,” he urged as he hurried you away from the helicopter. “Help is just a few feet away! Only a little bit more to go.”

You tried to stay with him, you really did, but the tide of pain started to blanket you once again. Alongside it, the feeling of something’s wrong surged throughout your body before the darkness overtook you once more. 

The next time you came to, you were on a gurney and bright lights were shining down on you. Doctors and nurses surrounded you, talking quickly in Spanish and calling out a few instructions. Your body began to involuntarily tremble again. Had your rescue been a dream? Had your kidnappers brought you to another part of the compound where they had an assembled medical team waiting to somehow keep you alive after they had unleashed such brutality on you? Or were you just dead?

You felt a warm hand in yours, a thumb stroking the top of yours reassuringly. You gingerly turned your head to find your soldier, still wearing his mask, standing right there, smiling down at you. “There you are. You had me worried for a second.”

Before you could ask him if he was real, if any of it was, a nurse started yelling at him, trying to get him to leave. He replied in perfect Spanish, telling her in a very resolved tone that he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were going to be okay. She let out a frustrated huff and shot him a glare before turning away to speak to the doctors. They insisted he had to go and once again, without your permission, you tightened your grip on him, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“No,” you rasped out. “Please let him stay. Please.” He was the only thing anchoring you in this moment. You got the distinct feeling that if you lost him, you’d be lost entirely, never to resurface. He was safety for you, an end to the horrific ordeal you had been through, and you didn’t want him to leave you.

A doctor leaned over you, speaking kindly in English. “It’s okay,” he spoke with a heavy accent. “We are going to make you better but he can’t be in here.”

You shook your head and grabbed at your soldier’s forearm with your free hand though it hurt like hell. 

“Doc, can you give us a second?”

The doctor gave him a look but did as he asked, moving back over to his team. 

The man next to you pulled a chair from out of nowhere and positioned it next to you. He took a seat and only when he had did you release him, wincing as you dropped your right hand next to you. 

He smiled reassuringly down at you. “You’re going to be okay. They’re going to fix you right up. You’ve been through a lot but you’re going to be alright.”

You knew what he was doing; he was calming you down and saying goodbye. For some reason, that made you tear up. Even though you didn’t know this man, he had been your harbor of safety in a chaotic whirlwind, a beacon of hope to cling to in a truly terrifying situation you had found yourself in. When a tear rolled down your cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. “Will you be here when I wake up?” You choked out.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”

That set loose more tears and he made sure to catch every single one. In the meantime, the nurse came over and injected something into your IV. When you started feeling drowsy a minute or so later, it wasn’t hard to guess what was happening. “Will I ever see you again?” You frantically intertwined your fingers with his as you struggled to stay awake.

He leaned closer, smiling in the same reassurance his green eyes were trying to convey. “I’ll find you,” he murmured, gently squeezing your hand. That made even more tears fall. It surprised you when he moved in to whisper to you, “Get some rest, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned it.”

You wanted to stay awake; you fought it, not wanting to lose sight of those green eyes fixated on you, knowing they would be gone once you closed yours. But you lost that battle as a sea of sleepiness dragged you down with it. You held onto his words as your eyes finally shut from the weight of the drug and you could no longer see him or feel his hand in yours. “I’ll find you” reverberated through your mind as you sank deeper and deeper into oblivion, falling at a rapid rate from deep green into solid black, until you were completely engulfed by it and you were gone.

You briefly closed your eyes as you felt a cool breeze gently make its way past you. You watched as two orange leaves pirouetted in the air, spinning round and round, until they landed several feet away. Silent ripples danced along the water’s surface in front of you and you could hear the sounds of people milling about near you, talking, surrounded by a symphony of nature sounds mixed in with the faroff noises of city life. You couldn’t help but smile when you heard small children giggling as they played on the grass nearby with their parents watching over them. You watched as a small group of teenage girls walked past you, laughing as they reminisced over something that had happened the past weekend. You saw an old man on another bench further down the path, an open book in his hands. 

These were the small peaceful moments that you had come to appreciate since you rejoined society a couple of months ago. These were the ones you held onto when the memories of the terror and pain all became a bit too much, that reminded you that you were back home, safe. 

You watched as two moms in workout gear jogged by with their strollers. A man and woman coming from the opposite direction made their way around the two women and continued their trek, drinking from to-go cups and dressed in business casual attire. Sure enough, you could hear them discussing work-related topics as they passed you by. You smiled sadly as you watched them get further and further from your sight. 

That had been you not that long ago, where you didn’t have a care in the world other than pushing out new product lines and being in charge of one of the main offices of the family business. The pressure had been near soul-crushing most of the time but you had adapted for the most part and rolled with it. You worked hard, you worked long hours, and you were alright with that. You took the stress of hectic deadlines and constantly putting out fires and you rolled with the punches. It became part of your make-up and it could only help fuel you even faster towards your goal — your father’s goal. Now, after what you’d been through, your outlook on it all had changed. What had felt like life and death matters in the corporate world before no longer felt as dire as it used to. You’d been in a literal life and death situation and lived to tell the tale; whatever came your way business wise you knew you could more than handle. There was something about being tortured and having a gun held to your head, convinced you were about to die, that just put things into perspective for you.

And though you survived, you didn’t actually get to tell your tale. The minute you were reunited with your father, while he had been grateful you were alive and kissed your forehead, it was made clear to you that you and the co-workers who had been in captivity with you were to sign NDA’s. That had completely floored you. That was the Board’s main concern? That the public might find out that some of its employees had been kidnapped, terrorized, and tortured? How were they going to explain your month long absence from the job, from your lives? You knew Meredith had a fiance, Pat was a grandmother, Rob had just gotten married weeks before this happened, and Tim had a wife and kids waiting back at home for him. Suzanne was dating someone in HR and you could have sworn you heard Jerry mention at some point that he had a dog to get back to, hoping his neighbor had either checked in on it or at least notified someone to do so. How in the world did the Board plan to explain away any of it?

Your father had let out an aggravated sigh as you fired question after question at him. Who had taken you? What had they wanted besides money? Why hadn’t the Board met their demands? Why had it taken them so long to get the government involved?

“They weren’t involved.”

Your eyes had widened in shock. “What? How?”

Your father had taken your hand in between his and stared into your eyes with meaning. “I’m only going to mention this once and then we’re never going to speak of it again. We hired someone to send in a team to get you out of there.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Hired someone? As in mercenaries?”

“Private contractors for security. They handle this type of situation quite frequently but they keep it all very hush hush. So that is why the Board is insisting on NDA’s for all of you. It’s not only to protect the brand but also to protect all of you.”

“Protect this organization they hired, you mean.”

Your father nodded, not looking troubled by your accusation in the least.

“I don’t understand, Dad. You have contacts in Defense. Why wouldn’t you call them?”

“We did. They recommended these people and said they were our best option. If we hired them, they could get in quickly and get you out. If we didn’t and chose to go through more official channels, it might prolong the process and that might be time that you didn’t have.”

You could see the wisdom in that advice he’d been given. They had been right; had they gotten there even just an hour later than they did, you might not be alive right now. “But a month, Dad? Why did they wait so long?”

Your father tightened his grip on your hand and you knew you weren’t going to like what he had to say next. “At first, we didn’t know who had taken you. When they made contact…the Board wanted to try negotiating with them first.”

You huffed out a breath in disbelief. Those sons of bitches…

“I pushed for them to do something more drastic but they fought me every step of the way. It wasn’t until they received that first video message that they finally agreed that I should make the call.” 

So your father had fought for you, but to a point. That fact rolled around in your brain for a moment. Had your roles been reversed, you would have told the Board to go screw themselves and immediately contacted whoever could rescue your father as soon as possible. No amount of money, litigation threats, or risk to the business would have stopped you. You, his only child, his only surviving family member, had been in mortal danger, and he hadn’t done everything he could to secure your safe return home as soon as possible? It was hard to wrap your mind around that. Then his last words finally registered. “Wait, what video message?”

His blue eyes softened with sympathy then and you could swear you could see a little bit of pain beginning to cloud them. “Where you were tortured.”

You should have known. Why else would your kidnappers have filmed it? Truthfully, you had known it back when they were hurting you. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you also didn’t want to talk about it. “You mean the pictures weren’t enough to convince them?” Before that first night, your kidnappers had forced you and your co-workers to look up at them as they snapped photos of you on their phones. You knew then that they were either using it as a scare tactic for your father and the Board or they were providing proof of life. Either way, it hadn’t mattered in the end since obviously the kidnappers had kicked it up a notch after that. 

A haunted look fleeted across your father’s tired face. While you may still be struggling with the idea that he hadn’t done everything you would have done in his place, you knew this had taken a toll on him. He had been genuinely concerned for you and the relief you’d seen on his expression when he saw you for the first time since you’d been separated was palpable. “When they saw the video, they could no longer pretend that this was something they could simply deal their way out of.”

Your brows drew together as you studied him. You were sure it had been hard for them to see what had happened to you, to hear your cries, your screams, your pained whimpers. You knew it must have been even more difficult for your father to see. But somehow you got the distinct impression that’s not what he was referring to. “Dad.” He glanced up at you and sure enough, you could tell he was keeping something from you. “Tell me.”

He grasped your hand tightly once more. This was definitely not going to be good. “It was bad enough to see what they did to you…but the end of the video was what convinced them.” At your knitted brow, he elaborated, “They pulled Tim out of the room they were keeping you all in, brought him somewhere, and then killed him.”

Your eyes widened and your heart stopped. What?

“And they said if they didn’t get what they wanted in three days, you were next.” 

Your heart started up again and began to pound in your chest. You felt like you were falling with no end in sight. Tim was…dead? Your breathing sped up into short pants and you could hear beeping from a machine you were connected to but it sounded so far away.

You had blocked out some of that experience, your brain subconsciously trying to protect you perhaps, you weren’t sure. And whatever memories stayed, each time they started to flash in your mind, you would close your eyes and grab hold of your safe harbor in those turbulent waves of trauma that tried to overtake you. You would think of green and while the images didn’t exactly disappear, it kept them at a safe distance. Well, while you were awake at least. The nightmares you experienced were something else entirely.

But this…nothing could protect you from this. You suddenly remembered being locked in that bedroom, hearing the yelling, the gunshot—oh God, the gunshot. You had heard the moment they— Your father urged you to calm down, rubbing your hand comfortingly, but you couldn’t hear him or even when a nurse rushed into the room to ask what was going on. Because at that precise moment, a memory came back to you, ripping your tight grip on your green harbor and tossing you back into the dark ocean of trauma and pain to drown in. 

It had been right before you’d passed out the second time. While your soldier had gotten out of the helicopter, you had glanced over to see the other helicopter that your people were disembarking from. At the time, you had been so out of it due to the pain and disorientation you had been feeling that you didn’t realize the number of people you should have been seeing was one short. You didn’t even seem to process the black bag two soldiers removed from the aircraft and carried off the tarmac together. You just knew something was wrong, something you had tried to tell your soldier before you passed out again. But now you knew exactly what you had seen.

Tim. Tim had been with you since you started in the New York office; he preceded you actually. Even though your father had chosen him to accompany you and the others, all you could remember was the nice man who had smiled and said hello as he walked into the office; the man who was quiet and reserved but also a hard worker; who had offered you his jacket to cover up with; the man who had begged the kidnappers for the photos of his kids from his wallet that they had taken and then denied him; the man who talked about his family and proudly told you all about his children. His daughter, Riley, was eight and she had recently taken up soccer. Before you’d left for Bogota, she had told him that her coach wanted her to try the goalie position but she was scared; she didn’t want balls flying at her head. You couldn’t blame her on that one and had said as much. You remembered all too well the sports you had been made to join growing up and it had never really been your thing, but it made your father happy so you did it each time he urged you to sign up or try out. Tim’s son, David, was nearly six and he had just graduated kindergarten. And the baby, Olivia, could be quite the handful since she was a very rambunctious toddler who never seemed to run out of energy, but his wife, Angela, lived up to her name and couldn’t be happier with their current family setup. And now… Now, he would never get to see any of them ever again.

The pained wail that met your ears caught you off guard until you realized it was coming from you. Tim was a good man and he had managed to make a life outside of work. He had something you had never let yourself dream about having since it would inevitably get in the way of your successful climbing of the corporate ladder. Now, he would never get to see his kids grow up, go to any more of Riley’s soccer games to encourage her, go on any more date nights with his wife — none of it. You had the horrible thought for a moment that it should have been you in that bag instead. It nearly had been you.

Your father held onto you as you wept, as the nurse rubbed your back from the opposite side of the bed, crooning soft reassurances to you and urging you to try to calm down. But nothing could reassure you; you were here and Tim was not. A cold hard fact that you could do nothing to change. Even worse, you had missed his funeral since you were stuck in the hospital you had been transferred to once you were flown from the one you had briefly ended up in down in Colombia. You hadn’t even known about his death until this moment, your suddenly resurfaced traumatic memories aside. 

Since that day, the memory of that single gunshot had tormented you. Had Tim known it was coming? Did he think about Angela and the kids right then? Had he prayed they would be okay without him? How terrified must he have been? You knew how scared you were in that bedroom, how fearful you had been during your second round of torture, sensing that this wasn’t going to end with the doctor treating you as it had the last time (which had now been confirmed that your instinct had been spot on). You could only imagine how he must have felt in that final moment.

The nightmares proceeded to get even worse and you were afraid to be left alone in your hospital room. Though your father and the medical staff had assured you that you were safe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t, no matter how irrational you knew you were being. Eventually, your assistant Luna started working remotely from your room to keep you company and your father had hired two full-time bodyguards to watch over you: Owen during the day and Simon at night. When the nightmares became practically unbearable, that rotation switched. For some reason, you felt safer with Owen there. Perhaps it had to do with his look, specifically his salt and pepper beard…you briefly remembered the feeling of a beard underneath your bloody fingertips though you couldn’t place the face it belonged to. You had a feeling it was connected to the green you remembered, that you clung to in the tumultuous sea of mayhem that was the night you were marked to die — the green that you associated with your rescuer. Why you couldn’t recall his face, you had no idea, but you chalked it up to your brain once again trying to make sense of the chaos that reigned inside your head. 

Green continued to symbolize safety and reassurance for you. So much so that when Luna brought a bag of clothes for you to change into for your beginning rehab sessions, you immediately picked out an olive green hoodie she had selected from your closet and set it aside. You took to holding it close as you slept, letting the scent of home attached to it wash over you as you closed your eyes. When you would wake from your nightmares, sometimes gasping for air that wouldn’t come, sometimes crying, or sometimes screaming, you would see the hoodie next to you and grab it, holding it close until you could either breathe again or calm back down. It became a source of comfort for you and long remained that even after you were discharged. 

Your doctor had recommended therapy in addition to the outpatient rehab you would be continuing but truth be told, you weren’t in a rush to relive anything or even unearth something that might somehow be worse than what you already remembered. Your father had also dismissed the idea of therapy, saying that focusing on regaining your ability to walk without the assistance of crutches would help, as well as getting back to concentrating on work. You didn’t agree, you knew better, but you also allowed his view to become your excuse, solidifying your refusal to deal with the trauma you had suffered. After all, you were still here, still breathing — as long as you kept reminding yourself of that, you would be fine. 

So you did as your father insisted: you focused on your physical therapy and you slowly found your way back to working full-time. You had graduated from crutches to a cane. Your doctor said your knee was healing nicely and right on schedule, which made you glad that you had listened to him and not your father’s initial suggestion of a knee replacement. You still felt a twinge of discomfort and a whispery echo of pain when walking so you relied more heavily on the cane than your doctor or physical therapist might have liked. You may not have remembered everything from your ordeal, but the pain of the initial impact of the bat and afterwards as you were carried to a waiting helicopter to take you to safety was still a very recent and clear memory for you. You doubted you would ever forget it as long as you lived. 

Eventually, you returned to your office and you accepted the well wishes all around. You had no idea what they had been told about your obvious injury or what had caused it but thankfully, no one questioned you. You had been in brief touch with Meredith and the others in the days after your initial surgery back in Colombia but not since then. You had been so focused on your recovery and processing the news of Tim’s death that, truthfully, you hadn’t thought of much else. Even though Luna had been working from your hospital room for a time and she kept you apprised on all developments as well as anything that required your attention, you knew your father had instructed her to keep it all to a strictly need-to-know basis until you were finally ready to fully take up the mantle again. And because you were already dealing with more than enough, you allowed it and didn’t push for more than she told you. So the guilt consumed you when you were informed that Suzanne had resigned and Pat had taken an early retirement to be able to spend more time with her kids and grandkids. Rob had taken a position at another company, though Jerry and Meredith were still there. However, Meredith worked remotely most days, something she had worked out with your father while you had been out. You wondered if it might have been a result of Meredith initially refusing to sign the NDA, a sort of compromise to get her to agree to keeping your ordeal under wraps. You made a mental note to reach out to all of them so you could at least check in to see how they were doing. Jerry was in Research; you’d stop by there later.

As tough as all of that had been to learn and stepping back into the swing of things proved to be a little more complicated than you thought it would be, the most difficult moment had been when you went up to Design. Seeing Tim’s office not being Tim’s anymore had left you reeling. Your father moved fast and had hired his replacement within days. From a professional perspective, you more than understood; the business still had to run after all and Design was one of your most crucial departments. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things. The nightmares were particularly brutal that night. You kept hearing the gunshot, kept seeing one of the kidnappers with their cell phone look over at you afterwards and give you the most terrifying smile. Even the hoodie hadn’t helped. When you looked at it, you didn’t see green anymore but red. A very bold and wet shade of dark red. You tossed it away from you and screamed, bursting into sobs as you rocked yourself back and forth in a soothing motion. 

You had immediately called out sick the next morning and spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between crying and staring blankly at the TV on the wall. Later on, when you could think clearly again, you gave yourself a stern talking to. You were here, alive, and you had hundreds of people looking to you to lead them. You refused to dishonor Tim’s memory by hiding away in your apartment for the rest of your life, no matter how appealing the option might feel. You could hear your father’s voice in your head again, pushing you, telling you to get back up and go to work, to be the best you could be.

And sure enough, you heard his voice for real the next day when he walked into your office. “What is he doing here?”

You glanced up and looked over where he was pointing to see Owen sitting in one of the chairs off to the side, watching you both. You pressed your lips together and shut the portfolio in front of you. “His name’s Owen, Dad. You know that. And he’s here because I asked him to be.”

Your father looked quite displeased with that. “I dismissed him and the other one last week. We talked about this.”

You let out a quiet sigh and sat back in your chair. “I know but—”

“It’s not a good look and it certainly isn’t good for morale. The cane you still insist on unnecessarily using is bad enough. Do you think people around here aren’t asking themselves or each other why you have this man sitting in your office, watching your every move?” 

You leaned forward and lowered your voice. “Dad, I get that. I do, but I need—”

“Is this why you called out sick yesterday?” You briefly dropped your gaze to your desk. You didn’t really want to talk about that or how despondent you’d been in your bed for hours until your alarm went off, jolting you into grabbing your phone and making the call. Your father’s eyes softened though his tone didn’t. “Honey, what you need is to dismiss him, permanently, and get back to your life, to your work. Don’t forget, you’re at the helm of this ship and everyone’s looking to you to navigate it seamlessly through the waters.”

Your jaw clenched and for the first time in your life, you were about to draw a line in the sand between what he was telling you to do and what you knew you needed to do. “I’m aware of that and I can’t steer the ship unless I feel safe. Owen here,” you nodded in the man’s direction. “Makes me feel safe. With him present, I can focus and get the job done. So, Owen is staying until I say otherwise.”

Your father’s own jaw tightened. “I’m not paying for more—”

“You’re not. I am. And believe it or not, while I’m doing what’s right for me, I’m also doing what’s right for this office, to ensure our complete success. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reports from Research to review.” You slipped your eyeglasses back on and reopened the portfolio in front of you, scanning the contents.

You glanced up when your father stepped closer to your desk, his voice lower than before though his now angry gaze burned into you. You should have known by dismissing him in that manner after standing your ground, what it would do. “I’m going to strongly suggest that you finish up with Research and take your lunch out of the office. Perhaps outside. It’s a beautiful day and a dose of fresh air might just be what you need.” He gave you a curt nod and then swiftly left the room. Once he was gone, your shoulders deflated and you slumped back into your chair. You knew your father loved you and he only wanted the best for you, for you to succeed, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if it ever came down to the choice of you or the business, who would he choose? He already chose. You blinked the rapidly forming tears in your eyes away at the thought that had popped into your head out of nowhere and carefully got to your feet, reaching for your cane. 

“Owen,” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him immediately stand at attention. “I think we’re going to take my father’s advice. He’s right. It is a beautiful day and I would like to take full advantage of it.” He moved towards you, watching as you moved to the corner and slipped on your light coat. “I’d prefer to be anywhere that isn’t here,” you mumbled, grabbing your handbag. 

You carefully made your way across your office with Owen following right behind you, ready to assist if need be while also keeping an eye out. You called out to your assistant as you passed her by, “Luna, I’m going out for lunch today. Please hold all calls until I return.”

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. If Research calls while you’re out, is there anything you would like me to tell them?”

You thought it over for a moment before turning towards the elevators. “Tell them I’m still working on it. Thank you.” And for the first time since you’d started in this company, you left without getting the job done. The thought didn’t sit well with you, you had always been conditioned to complete all of the tasks set out before you, no matter how late you might have to stay to complete them. But at the same time, it oddly made you smile a little.

So here you were, in Central Park on a gorgeous fall day, having taken your father’s advice to heart. You took every single one of your lunches outdoors now unless it was raining or too cold to sit outside for long. You always marveled at the fact that you had lived in New York City for close to two years and you had never once taken the time to stop and notice what surrounded you on a daily basis. You had never taken in the present moment, never taken an opportunity just to be, to sit quietly and listen. The bench you were on by the lake had quickly become one of your favorite spots. You could relax and indulge in the art of people watching, take in all of the sounds, sights, and smells around you. Truth be told, it was the best part of your day. 

Owen stood sentry not too far from you, giving you enough space but also ready to intervene at any moment should he be needed. Despite sitting in a park in the middle of one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country, you felt beyond safe. Owen would never let anything happen to you and being in public, around people living their everyday lives…you felt the safest you had in a long time. A feeling you ended up trying to replicate by looking up Central Park ambience videos on YouTube and playing them while you fell asleep though it didn’t always manage to keep the nightmares away. But you expected that; trauma could be a real stubborn pain in the ass.

But right now, sitting here like this, you were okay. That is, until someone decided to sit down on the opposite side of the bench you were on. All of the times you had sat in this spot, you had been left alone, free to claim this bench as your own for the hour or so you’d spend here. Now, someone appeared not to have gotten the unofficial memo. Out of your peripherals, you saw Owen quickly approaching, most likely intending to tell the stranger to move to another bench, when the person glanced back at him, holding a hand up.

“Relax, man. I appreciate you looking out but I’m not here to hurt her, alright? I’m just here to talk.” The second you heard the voice, your gaze snapped over to the man across from you. You immediately recognized it; it was one you’d heard in your nightmares over and over, telling you to stay with him as you desperately clung to his hand until the kidnappers snatched you away. Was it even possible or were you just imagining this man had spoken to Owen with that voice?

When the man turned back to look at you, you recognized the green eyes immediately and a small lump began to form in your throat. Sure enough, he had a beard, one that looked startlingly familiar when you warily prodded at the memory, trying to recall it. A flash of his face, dirtier than it appeared now, popped into your mind. As if it had been patiently waiting all of this time for you to simply reach out and grab a hold of it. Tears began to burn in the corner of your eyes; it was him.

“It’s you,” you choked out in a whisper without really meaning to. 

The smile you faintly remembered graced his face. “It’s me,” he confirmed.

You stared at him, truly dumbfounded. “How?”  

“I told you I’d find you.” 

You nearly started crying when the familiar words floated up from your subconscious, the phrase you had somehow forgotten in the midst of everything. But you remembered it now, as clearly and vividly as the man sitting before you who had said it. You had been about to pass out in the makeshift surgical room, crying and holding onto him tightly, afraid to let him go. “Will I ever see you again?” “I’ll find you.” 

“I made you a promise and I intended on keeping it.” His green eyes softened slightly, much as they had all of those months ago as he caught every single tear that rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the drug beginning to course through your system. “I’ll find you.”

And find you he did.

A little preview of the next installment:

Still sensing your discomfort, Russell immediately lifted up and peeled his shirt off, revealing his bare skin to you for the first time. Immediately, you noticed a small bandage wrapped around his left arm.  “What happened?” You gasped, sitting up and gingerly running your fingers below the bandage line.  He shrugged and looked down at it. “Got shot on a job.” Your jaw dropped and when he glanced back up at you, he must have seen the worry that was consuming you because he immediately chuckled and affectionately cupped your chin. “I’m okay. Besides, that’s not what I wanted to show you.” He took your hand in his and moved it to his other shoulder, guiding your fingertips over skin that was jagged, puckered slightly, and silver-looking. “Shot.” He then moved your hands down his side until it reached a decent sized line that was anything but smooth. “Stabbed.” Your hands moved again to right above his abdomen. “Cut.” They moved once more and ended up on his clavicle. “Cut from an attempted stab.” You winced as he mentioned each injury he had received; they had all been the result of violent means. He moved your hands up to the upper tip of his right ear. “Bullet graze.” There was no scar there to speak of but you could see the tiniest bit of difference between his ears in that area when you looked closely.  He finally brought your hand to rest over his heart, holding it there. “Sofia.” Your brows furrowed in confusion and he smirked over at you. “Cute little waitress in Costa Rica. Gave me one hell of a weekend and then left me high and dry for some young British guy who showed up at the beach and hadn’t yet run out of money.” You scoffed and yanked your hand from underneath his, making him laugh, as you crossed your arms. He moved closer to you, cupping your cheeks and staring into your eyes. “I’m kidding about that last part. The rest, I’m not. I’ve got plenty more on my back and even a few on my legs. A couple more on my arms. We all have scars. They’re just reminders of battles we’ve fought and survived. Don’t be ashamed of yours.” A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek but his thumb caught it. He pressed his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re beautiful.”    When he looked at you like this, spoke softly to you like this, you genuinely believed him.

A/N: Coming very soon. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for Part 2.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

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[tailschannel]

New zones, customization options, and Emerald Powers: a recap of the Sonic Superstars cover story

Issue 358 of the Gameinformer magazine was published this Tuesday, and its 12-page column on the upcoming Sonic Superstars revealed a new look into its development, and previewed a number of in-game features and zones.

Here's everything you need to know.

Major takeaways

New zone names: Sky Temple, Pinball Carnival, Lagoon City, Sand Sanctuary, Press Factory, and unannounced Golden Capital.

New Emerald Powers: Avatar, Bullet, Water, Ivy, Vision, Slow, Extra, Super.

Expect vast character customization options in the brand new Items shop.

Select stages in a Generations-style World Map.

New zones

Characters have the choice of going through a normal act or a character-specific act. For example, finishing Act 1 of Speed Jungle Zone as Sonic allows you to choose between either playing the second act of Speed Jungle or an "Act Sonic," an alternate act of Speed Jungle where you zoom as Sonic, running away from a terrorizing Fang the Sniper.

There is reportedly a World Map similar to Generations where you run in a 2D-plane to select a stage.

There is also an items shop where you can trade medals in for customizable parts. Apparent, you can customize your "head, body, arms, legs, accessories color, and something called prototype."

The third zone of the game is reportedly called Sky Temple Zone.

In the zone, there is a mini-game similar to the game "Breakout," where you turn into a ball and aim to break bricks.

The climax or the ending of the zone is a massive storm.

The fourth zone is called Pinball Carnival Zone.

As the name suggests, "a giant pinball arena and fast sequences with fireworks setting off."

The fifth zone is called Lagoon City, which is filled with submerged city ruins and water slides.

Act 1 is mostly above water whereas Act 2 has several underwater sequences.

Amy's character-specific act of Lagoon City is fruit-based, with several gimmicks like a fruit based robots and such.

Sand Sanctuary Zone is the sixth zone of Sonic Superstars and a seventh zone reportedly called Press Factory Zone.

Filenames in the newly released screenshots also disclosed the officially unannounced Golden Capital Zone.

Emerald Powers

Emerald Powers were inspired by the Wisps mechanic from Sonic Colors.

Every stage has a giant gold ring and a giant blue ring. Completing the giant gold rings rewards you a Chaos Emerald and the the blue ring rewards you a medal.

Both special stages have the same central gameplay mechanic: swing from floating bubbles toward the moving objective.

Emerald Powers can be used by using the right stick and operate on a cooldown, with each star post checkpoint replenishing your cooldown meter.

Avatar (Blue Emerald)

Allows you to create clones of yourself.

Useful for defeating any enemy that lies on you path.

Bullet (Red Emerald)

Allows you to direct and shoot your character at a specified direction.

"It's an extremely useful action; it's probably the most useful action for this kind of game," Iizuka said.

Water (Cyan Emerald)

Allows you to interact with any body of water, like swimming freely underwater or climbing up waterfalls.

Ivy (Green Emerald)

Allows you to grow upward vines.

Helpful in reaching higher areas.

Can also be utilized to help your teammates in co-op mode.

Vision (Purple Emerald)

Allows you to see hidden objects like platforms, rings, or items found in the level.

Slow (Yellow Emerald)

Allows the player to slow down everything on screen.

Helpful in tighter platforming sequences or boss encounters.

Extra (White Emerald)

Unlocks character-specific actions.

Sonic – Homing Attack: Unlocks the Homing Attack from the modern titles.

Tails – Tornado Spin: Unlocks a devastating tornado attack that can destroy enemies in front of you

Amy – Hammer Throw: Unlocks the ability for Amy to throw hammers instead of the usual Hammer Swing.

Knuckles – Punch: Unlocks the ability to punch for Knuckles.

Super Form (All 7 Emeralds)

Characters can turn into their Super form after collecting all 7 Chaos Emeralds.

Characters won't have any specific abilities outside of being invincible and becoming faster.

Emerald Powers can still be used in Super form.

Development

The concept of Superstars came from a Zoom call by Naoto Ohshima during the initial COVID-19 pandemic lockdown.

Ohshima and Iizuka held producer roles for Sonic Superstars.

Despite hinting at a short development time than expected, Ohshima was impressed by Sonic Team and Iizuka.

"Though Arzest and Ohshima led development efforts on Sonic Superstars, Sonic Team collaborated frequently, with Iizuka and Ohshima constantly sharing ideas of and production duties."

There were talks between Iizuka and Whitehead's team following the release of Mania where concepts were considered, but the project fell through; however, Iizuka does states that he is "pleased that the next generation of Classic Sonic that we talked about with them has been achieved with Superstars."

Iizuka said that the programming for Superstars "is completely unique and done from scratch by Arzest."

(Story contributed by Spectre and Scarlett from the Tails' Channel Newsfeed)

[wisyhana]

I wanna talk about something really beautiful that happened on my birthday before August ends.

The lovely people from patreon, which at this point are close friends than patrons, took the time and effort to gift me a commission where I could draw whatever I wanted, along with the most beautiful letters and drawings.

I cried like a baby, no joke hahaha.

This was such a great gift so of course I made it about Saya and her birthday so here are the drawings I did for her and my birthday. I'm not showing you the letter cos I'll tear up again.

First one is Saya receiving a present from her grandma. She's super emotional because her grandma doesn't know much about postal services or technology, so Saya knows she made a huge effort to send her a present on her own.

The second one is of course Kyrie Eleison celebrating her birthday. Saya invited Kaiba for the party and well Vultur is not really happy about it, but she gets over it quickly. Also to point out that Saya is really happy this time and when she's happy and comfy she tends to be more touchy, so it's very new for her to grab Ivy and Viper that way.

and the last one is already very late and Kaiba stays at Saya's apartment and he finally gives her a present. I WANTED TO GO SUPER CURSI AND SUPER NERDY SO HEAR ME OUT.

Kaiba gives her flight tickets to Vienna for both of them~ he takes her there because HELLO VIENNA THE CITY OF MUSIC, so they can go and nerd about classical musicians. BUT, he has another surprise there~ he takes her to the St Peter's Abbey in Salzburg, because this motherfucker commissioned a whole chorus and orchestra to play the Mass in C Minor from Mozart, which is the musical that has the Grosse Messe aka the Kyrie Eleison piece that Saya loves. And of course he chooses that place because is there where it was first performed. Very cheesy, very nerdy and very Messe perfect for them.

So here they are! I wouldn't be able to draw this if it wasn't for my lovely friends. I'm so thankful and so happy that it would take me a long time to forget this.

Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy my joy with my girl Saya🖤

[soapybutt17]

Light of My Life

Summary: The New Year meant new things for everyone in the Price Household. A not-so new face had also become an addition to the chaos if it all. Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Price!Female Reader. John Price. Simon Riley. Soap MacTavish. Word Count: 3,146 Chapter Warnings: None A/N: @glitterypirateduck: here is part two like I promised. hope you enjoy~

Part 2 for Your Are My Sunshine

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“Why are you more nervous than me?” Kyle couldn’t help but point out the moment the car has stopped in front of a rather large farm house a few hours outside the city.

As Kyle stepped out of the car and gazed up the vast expanses of rolling green hills, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. You had always spoken about your family’s farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer grandeur of the place.

The farmhouse stood proudly at the crest of a gentle slope, its stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and rain. Ivy clung to its sides, giving it a rustic charm that was impossible to resist. A slate room crowned the structure, and a tall, stone chimney sent a plume of white smoke spiraling into the clear blue sky. The whole scene was like something out of a fairy tale.

You led Kyle up the gravel path that wound its way to the front door, and as they approached, he couldn’t help but notice the colorful flowerbeds that lined the walkway. Brilliant reds, purples, and yellows contrasted with the lush green grass, creating a vibrant tapestry of colors that he would have only seen in movies.

As you finally knocked on the door, the noise from the inside of the house halted. Kyle had only notice now in his amazement the array of voice that could be heard from the inside.

Opening the door, your father, Captain John Price, stood talk. A deep frown rested on his lips the moment his eyes met him as well as your own. The frown grew even bigger the first moment he caught sight of your hands holding onto his own.

“Darling. Sergeant.” Price had acknowledged, opening the door further to let the two of you inside.

That had somehow surprised him. The Captain’s reaction was the last thing you would have expected to give him at this point after hiding his relationship with his daughter and how he had downright lied through his teeth for well over a year because of it.

What surprised him even more was the sight of two familiar co-workers that also seemed to be just as surprised as the two of you the moment you step foot inside.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You questioned but your question was immediately tackled into a hug by your mother.

“You finally brought your boyfriend along. He’s a handsome fella too.”

Kyle was left stun by the short woman—shorter than you were which was saying a lot as you barely reached his shoulders and you were a few inches taller than her. But her height did compensate at how much of a firecracker she was as he was being pulled away from the pack of lion ready to devour him.

With the two of you dragged into the kitchen, Kyle was had come to realize that the apple doesn’t fall far from the three as she began her array of questions about your drive to the farm, and how meeting his parents had gone. All of which you had answered with the same enthusiasm as your own mother. The smile on your face return, Ghost and Soap being in the house was momentarily forgotten.

“I’ve dealt with your father and the two boys for you two. So you’re both safe from them for the rest of the night.” She winked towards him and he had let out a sigh of relief because of it.

“Thank you.” Kyle spoke. “I’m sorry for coming without notice.” He apologized being another mouth to feed for tonight.

“Nonsense. When I learned that Simon and Jonny were coming I’ve made food that is enough to feed the entire army.” She spoke as a matter of factly. “Besides, I am still hoping that my daughter would finally bring you along to meet us. I’m happy that she finally did—even if the circumstance isn’t on your end on this.”

Kyle nodded before turning towards you knowing the implication of his arrival.

“Now since I’ve pulled you two away from the chaos of the three boys still in the living room, why don’t you two head upstairs to your bedroom to freshen up, I’ll deal with your father for you for the time being.”

~

John Price was not happy one bit. Not even the fact that he was home for once for the holidays could brighten his mood. Not even the fact that all his children were in the same room or the fact that his own sets of children in the base were also here to celebrate the New Year could brighten his mood.

How could he be so blind to not see it?

His daughter that had been through so much growing up with a father that gave you so much empty promises that it took him years to even allow him to make his own and keep. The daughter that might not have been his blood but he loved just the same like the rest of his own. The daughter that he would die over and over again if it meant you were happy and safe.

How could he have not seen the way you look at his boy Gaz, the man that he had immediately taken under his wing since the incident in Piccadilly. The man that he had hope to be better than he could ever think of being in his career. The man that was torn and pulled apart for the war that had no beginning nor end. The man that he would take a bullet for if it ever come to it.

How could he not see the way you two look at each other the way that you did in front of him now?

“They look so in love. He looks are her just like how you look at me.”

His attention had turned away from the happy couple and turned to his own beloved. When he had first found out about you and Gaz making out in the parking lot for Soap and Ghost to see, he had a mind to drive straight to Gaz’s house just to beat the living shit out of the man, but his wife was godsend. Immediately putting her foot down at his plan and brought all the anger he had to a halt.

“I don’t look at you like that.” He muttered, refusing to admit as such—not wanting to be compared to Gaz at the moment.

“So you don’t look at me with love, John?”

“I didn’t say that.” He muttered turning his attention back to the pint of beer in his hand. “I have my own way of looking at you.”

“Like you want to get into my pants?” She teased him.

“I mean—” He trailed off with a smirk, earning a light slap onto his chest and the all too familiar giggle from her.

“You’re impossible.” She rested her cheeks against his shoulder, her eyes glued to the picture perfect sight of their daughter and his—Sergeant. “After everything we’ve been through, I never thought I would see the day that she’s happy with someone.”

“She had always said that she swore off men after what her father did to you.” John grunted, the memory of those words still haunted him.

How such a little girl like you back then had been forced to grow up and see that not everyone could be kind—not even your blood. It was a statement that had haunted them all for years. If he’s not as good as Daddy John, I don’t ever want to have any man. It was a revelations for him back then, not only how your mind works as a toddler, but how you had finally called him Dad instead of the Mister Price or Mister John. It was at that moment that he had vowed to himself that he would make sure you had everything you could ever want, protected from any kind of heartache that may come into your life.

“She ate her words.” His wife acknowledged. “Don’t be too hard on Kyle. You always said that he was a good man. What difference does it make now that he’s seeing our daughter?”

She was right. She was always right when it comes to situations like this. But he couldn’t help but still be the overprotective father to you. He could throw you into the deepest parts of hell for missions because he was confident in your capabilities, but this was different. To him, he couldn’t do anything to save you from any form of heartache that would come your way.

“I don’t want her to get hurt anymore.” John finally admits.

The boisterous laughter of his children and that of Soap filled the air, the way you had egged Soap on with Kyle as his kids tackled Soap to the ground. But his mind was still filled with the dread of such a possibility. He could not see himself being able to see you heartbroken all over again over a man that disappointed you. He did not have the heart to look at Gaz the same way if he decided to hurt his baby girl.

“We can’t stop that, John. You and I know that. All that we could do is be there for her if ever the time comes. But seeing Kyle, seeing him with our daughter, I doubt that would even happen.”

“How could you know?”

“I just know. You have to trust me on this.” She winked finally standing up and announcing it was getting close to midnight.

John’s eyes turned towards the clock. It was few minutes to midnight and the New Year. With one command from him for everyone to head outside for the fireworks. Everyone scrambled out, Soap and the kids dashing out and racing to see who would be first. It left John and his wife for a moment in the sudden silence of their home.

“I trust you.” He whispered to his wife as they walked hand and hand outside to everyone standing around waiting.

The crisp cold air immediately hand him pulling his jacket off and wrapping around his wife. He had also noticed the same gesture that Kyle did for you. His jacket wrapped snuggled around you and you beamed at him as thanks.

Again, his wife was right.

As everyone awed at the fireworks that began to explode into the air, his arms had wrapped around his wife, but his gaze shifted back again towards you, how you snuggled into Gaz’s arms, both of your gaze up towards the sky as everyone began to countdown to welcome the New Year.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

Happy New Year!

The dark skies burst bright from the fireworks, and he had pulled his wife in for a kiss. Well over two decades together, who would have ever thought that this would be the life he would have for himself.

“Happy New Year.” He whispered against her lips before his attention turned back to every single one of his family.

His children wrapping their arms around Simon and Soap as they wished them a happy new year, to his daughter that had her eyes close and forehead resting against Gaz’s own, words that he couldn’t read were exchange between the two of them before Kyle gave you a gentle kiss on the lips, the nose, and finally the forehead.

Maybe his wife was right. Gaz could make you happy again.

~

“Dad! We’re on holiday!”

Kyle couldn’t help but smile at your overprotectiveness for him and his sake. But for the past twelve hours, he was left unscathed at the hands of his Captain and the two overprotective older brothers you had earned in Soap MacTavish and Simon Riley. It was a win on his book but not something he would want to test.

So when his Captain had asked him for a quick walk out in the open fields the following morning, he did not even attempt to refuse the offer. But it did scare him that he had been adamant that Simon and Soap to not join along even as the Scot had insisted on it. He knew well enough to know that he wanted to talk, not as his Captain, but as the father of his girlfriend.

“It’s fine.” He tried to reassure you but the frown on your lips grew deeper refusing to break the glare that was still directed at your father.

“I agreed with your mother that I will not do anything during the New Year party, I never promised not to after.” Price had pointed out with a grin, it was his own little way of getting on your nerves and it was working far too well than even he would expect.

“You’re impossible, Dad.” You muttered plopping yourself onto the dinner table for breakfast.

Kyle turned to look towards your mother as she had placed a place of full English breakfast in front of you with an extra serving of eggs just like what you always liked. She shared a pointed look with her husband whose smile slowly fell before making his way outside to wait for him.

“Don’t worry about him, his bark is worse than his bite.” She had reassured but Kyle knew it wasn’t always the case. Working for him for as long as he did, his bite was all the more worse than his bark especially when he was certain it was for the greater good—greater good for this case was his daughter.

“I hope so.” Kyle joked, but the fear was all too evident in his voice.

Kyle had ignored Soap’s teasing as he finally made his way out of the house. His Captain was patiently waiting with his arms crossed against his chest. The moment he had noticed he was out, he began to walk and Kyle was left to follow him in silence.

It had been a five minute walk, the cool morning air a welcome companion to what he would expect would be a heated discussion between him and the man walking in front of him. All the anxiety of the secret he had hidden from him had continued to eat him up as the walk continued but he was afraid to start the conversation.

“Did she ever tell you about her biological father?” Price had began as they had halted by the herd of cattle by the meadows.

“Yes Sir.” Kyle responded.

It was the first thing you had ever told him early on in your relationship, how it had shaped the way to view relationships in general. He had know early on that there would be a possibility of what they had to be over before it had even started. He had thanked his lucky stars that it didn’t. Lucky enough that he could be everything you had hoped out of a relationship that you wanted and needed.

“Then I don’t need to tell you why I am not keen on having anyone dating my daughter, especially with someone that she works so closely with.”

Price had finally turned to look at him. Kyle had been all too familiar with the look. The stern cold wall that he used to intimidate any adversary that would even dare come their way. It was unnerving that he was directed with such a gaze instead of being in the background witnessing some other poor soul.

 “Yes Sir.” Kyle agreed. “But I love your daughter, Sir. We have thought it would be best for everyone to keep in a secret until she was good and ready.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Over a year, Sir.”

“And what are you intentions with my daughter?”

Kyle took a moment, wanting to form his words carefully without causing more tension and chaos in their relationship going forward.

“I want to be the man she could depend on when she needs me to be. I want to be the man that could make her the happiest that she could be. I—I just want to be by her side whatever relationship it may be that she would want and need from me.”

He waited with bated breath as the Captain stared at him, scrutinizing his words carefully for all it was worth. Kyle was thinking that he was mincing his words and looking for anything that would incriminate him as insincere, but he was certain he would not find any.

“I want you to know, Sergeant.” He began. “That if I ever learn that you hurt her, in any shape or form, I would be the last person you should be worried about. You will worry for your career, for your safety, for your life if you even dare hurt a single hair from her pretty little head.”

Kyle gulped but nodded, knowing that this was no longer his Captain, but the father of his girlfriend that would drag him to the deepest parts of hell if he makes so much as a mistake of making you cry.

“But last night, when I saw her with you, she was the happiest I have ever seen. It was rare and far between when she was like it. The first time I’ve seen it was when I told her that I was officially adopting her as my own daughter. Those bright eyes that twinkled in a love she never thought she would ever deserve. I saw it when she looks at you.”

Kyle couldn’t help but smile at such an information. He know the look he was talking about, he was certain that he was giving you the same, a look that was even more in love and adoration for you and everything that you do for him.

“You have my blessing when it comes to your relationship, but just know that you will both endure a couple of weeks of intense drills for lying to me about your relationship.”

Kyle thought as much. He nodded shoving his hands onto his pocket and only now did he realize the small box nestled deep inside his sweatpants.

“I also wanted to ask you blessing for something, Sir.” He began pulling out the velvet box for the man to see.

The Captain took a moment to realize what it was before a chuckle escaped his lips.

“I should have expected this.” He shook his head. But agreed nonetheless.

It didn’t take long for their holiday off to end and everyone was back to their normal lives inside the base and in mission. It did take long for Kyle to propose, who would have ever thought that he would in the brink of death while you held him close to you.

[disneytva]

Variety Interviews Ayo Davis, Meredith Roberts And Emily Hart On Disney Television Animation's 40th Anniversary And What To Expect On From The Past, Present And Future

40 years ago, Disney TVA was founded on the heels of challenging outcomes with features “The Fox and the Hound” and “The Black Cauldron.”

Initially, Disney TVA was restricted from using established Disney legacy characters, but nevertheless had huge successes with new shows like “The Wuzzles” and “Adventures of the Gummi Bears,” both of which became popular in syndication. As time went on, DTVA was able to use its limited rights to create shows like “DuckTales” and “TaleSpin,” which featured Disney characters. Today, the slate has evolved to include shows that travel across Disney’s streaming, linear and digital platforms, including Disney+, Disney Channel, Disney Junior and the Disney Parks

Over the 40 years of the studio has collaborated with Walt Disney Imagineering to bring beloved Disney Afternoon characters to the parks as well Mickey And Minnie's Runaway Railway and AquaMouse for the Disney Wish and Disney Treasure cruises from the Disney Cruise & Ships Line as well collaborating with Disney Yellow Two Shoes Team to redesing some heritage characters for the WDW Passholder Magnets.

Disney TVA characters also have gone to the realm of live action. In 2019 Disney Channel brought Kim Possible to the live action world as a Disney Channel Original Movie in 2019. In Spring 2022, Walt Disney Studios brought Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers to a new generation of fans trought a meta-driven live action/animated hybrid film which won an Primetime Emmy Award for Best Feature Film.

In April 2024, it was announced that Kiara from The Lion King II: Simba's Pride created at Disney TVA will make her live action debut on the motion capture/computer animated film "Mufasa The Lion King" with the character being voiced by Blue Ivy Carter. In Fall 2023, it was announced that Blumhouse Television and Atomic Monster where developing a live action reboot of Gargoyles for Disney+.

The future of the studio looks bright as the studio is slated to debut it's 100th show overall "StuGo" in 2025, as well new interations of beloved classics like The Proud Family, Phineas And Ferb, Sofia The First and Darkwing Duck trought revivals,reboots and spin-offs in the coming years with early talks of new interations of TaleSpin, Kim Possible and Recess since Early 2023.

“We have a wildly diverse development slate because we don’t have a house style,” says Meredith Roberts, executive vice president, television animation, Disney Branded Television and CEO of Disney Television Animation “Our styles are creator-driven, so that allows for real support of the artist or creator to fulfill his or her vision. Anything is possible, whether it's CGI. (“Monsters at Work”), hand-drawn 2D (“Big City Greens”,"Primos","Hailey's On It!"), rig-based 2D (“Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur”,"Kiff") and stop-motion (“Mickey Saves Christmas”,"Rhona Who Lives By The River".). Roberts continues, “We really try and solve all the problems and develop it. We look at the scripts and the story arcs. Every project has to have a strategy behind it that will complement the slate and separate it from other things. Each project has a distinct swim lane to attract an audience. And we’ve learned to meet the kids where they are, in terms of streaming and YouTube.”

Co-viewing, the viewership that happens when adults sit down to watch a DTVA show with the kids in their lives, is part of the studio’s secret sauce and long-term strategy. Many of the shows are written with jokes and plot points for both audiences so both groups will return.

“We double down on the kids and family space,” says Roberts. “We’re not just dipping a toe in the water. We’re diving in. I think we’ve seen a lot of churn with the competition, who just don’t have the patience to develop and are for this audience, which is a very specialized kid audience and co-view audience.” ("The Witchverse", "Rhona Who Lives By The River","InterCats","Fantasy Sports") Roberts reflects: “I think one of the things I’m most proud of is how stable Disney TVA has been for the last 40 years despite a lot of outside churn of the animation industry. Many of our crews feel that Disney is their forever home. I think the excitement they have to illustrate and create with this brand has been terrific because it’s harder to be funny and clean. And nowhere are we tearing down people to get that laugh. I think that’s the beauty of a Disney animated show.”

DTVA also sought to meet kids where they are by making their audience — which is made up of the most diverse generation in history — feel seen, with series such as “Elena of Avalor,” which featured Disney’s first Latina princess, and “The Proud Family,” franchise focused on the life of a teenage Black girl.

“We do have an amazing insights team that are constantly in the field, giving us general information about how kids are watching content, what they’re into,” Emily Hart (VP of Current and Development - Disney Junior) says. “Some of those things are evolving, as we know the ways kids consume content is changing. But there are some universal truths about kids, and it’s great to have that reinforced. Kids still like a lot of the same things that we like. So, there’s a combination that we’re always tracking with every new idea, and we do pilot testing. We get to sit down and talk about the content, and we invite our creators in so they can see the kids talking about it because they’re the audience and they’re the truest test of if the story is going to work.”

Ayo Davis, president of the Disney Branded Television and VP of Current and Development at Disney Television Animation says the division is a “driving force” for memorable kids and family entertainment.

“All of us at Disney Branded Television are so proud of the studio’s 40-year legacy as it continues to entertain future generations with shows like ‘Kiff,’ ‘Big City Greens’ and ‘Mickey Mouse Clubhouse 2.0" --- Davis says.

Those creators who come to DTVA often stay for a long time, partnering with the studio on a variety of different projects or expanding on a hit and reimagining it for the next generation of viewers. “The Proud Family” was a standout in 2001 on Disney Channel. Creator and executive producer Bruce W. Smith is now working on the Emmy-winning “The Proud Family: Louder and Prouder,” which is based on the original series. The show follows Penny Proud as she navigates family life and her own childhood.

“Being at Disney TVA has allowed me to realize all my artistic dreams,” says Bruce W. Smith. “As a kid, you always have hopes, thoughts, dreams, ideas and characters that can help lay out those ideas in your head. Disney has allowed me to really tap into my creative instinct, at the end of the day, you have to learn how to trust yourself. Meredith Roberts has been a true shepherd for me in all of this, allowing me to stretch my wings. Because of her belief in me and my ideas, she’s really allowed me to blossom as an artist. All that happened at DTVA.”

“They really seem to be a place that welcomes your ideas,” Dan Povenmire says of Disney TVA. “They want to find people with real strong ideas of the stories they want to tell, and then they let them tell those stories for the most part. They seem to put storytelling and characters over anything. With [‘Phineas and Ferb’], we would write jokes for the kids and the adults in the room because we knew the adults would be there too. We were just careful not to do any double entendres.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Tom Slater

Published: May 1, 2024

The Columbia cranks rant about killing Zionists one minute and demand hot meals the next.

If you want to know what’s driving the Israelophobic protests and occupations at New York’s Columbia University – and many more elite campuses across America – get a load of this clip that has been doing the rounds on social media over the past 24 hours.

In it, one Johannah King-Slutzky – spokesperson for the occupation of Columbia’s Hamilton Hall, which was forcibly ended by the New York City Police Department last night, with around 100 arrests – issues her and her comrades’ demands. On top of Columbia ‘divesting’ from Israel and such, King-Slutzky also demanded meals and water.

Apparently, Columbia was refusing to allow the students who were then breaking windows and barricading themselves inside Hamilton Hall to access their usual canteen grub. ‘We’re saying that [Columbia is] obligated to provide food to students who have paid for a meal plan here’, King-Slutzky told a sceptical press conference.

When pushed, she said they were only asking that supplies be allowed to be brought in:

‘Do you want students to die of dehydration and starvation or get severely ill, even if they disagree with you?… I mean, it’s crazy to say because we are on an Ivy League campus, but this is like basic humanitarian aid we’re asking for. Like, could people please have a glass of water?’

It’s all there. The whinging cadence, the ‘like’-strewn patter, the obligatory keffiyeh, the industrial-strength victimhood, the bloke in a crop top stood behind her… King-Slutzky and Co are the picture of trustafarians in revolt. Their anti-Israel bigotry is matched only by their profound sense of entitlement. How dare the university not provide adequate refreshments while we are smashing shit up?

There are plenty of people today likening the Columbia meal-planners to their Sixties forebears – in particular, to the Columbia radicals who mounted their own disruptive demos in 1968. Sadly, even some veterans of Sixties activism are flattering today’s privileged brats with the comparison.

But it’s bollocks. When Columbia students occupied Hamilton Hall and other buildings in April 1968, they did so to oppose the Vietnam War and university plans to build a gymnasium in nearby Harlem, which students argued would effectively be segregated. After a week, police moved in and arrested 700 students.

Today, Columbia students and their off-campus heavies aren’t opposing war exactly. Yes, they oppose Israel’s assault on the genocidal lunatics of Hamas, following the Islamist terrorists’ vicious pogrom on 7 October. But they seem pretty relaxed about warfare against the state of Israel. ‘We don’t want no two states / We want all of it!’, they chant. ‘Never forget 7 October… 7 October is about to be every fucking day for you. You ready?’, screeched one racist cunt outside the gates.

Therein lies another crucial difference between ’68 and today. Today’s students aren’t fighting racism, they are luxuriating in it. Khymani James, a leader of the Columbia protests, posted a video to social media the other week saying ‘Zionists don’t deserve to live’. ‘I don’t fight to injure or for there to be a winner or a loser, I fight to kill’, he said, fantasising about having a scrap with one of those awful Jews. (Given the vast, vast majority of Jews are Zionists, that’s really not overegging it.)

Elsewhere, we’ve seen protesters chant ‘Go back to Poland’ at Jewish Columbians and hold up homemade signs, stating ‘Al-Qasam’s [sic] next targets’, pointing to a group of Israeli-flag-waving students. The Al-Qassam Brigades being Hamas’s military wing. An Arab Israeli was also punched outside Columbia recently, by activists brandishing the pro-Hamas triangle symbol.

I’m willing to concede that some of this unvarnished, violent hatred is being carried out by off-campus antifa types, as is routinely alleged by the protesters’ apologists. Not least because King-Slutzky and yer man in his crop top look like they couldn’t fight their way out of a ball pit. But activists’ alarmingly high tolerance for virulent anti-Semitism, their total lack of condemnation of Hamas or its many campus fanboys, speaks volumes.

As does their expectation of water and spag bol and their apparent shock and horror when the police were called in. The Columbia protesters and their supporters are now trying to portray the clearance of Hamilton Hall as an affront to freedom of speech. Free speech is ‘supposed to be prized’ on campus, one student told Al Jazeera last night.

Being concerned about a heavy-handed response to these demos is one thing. The governor-ordered crackdown on protests at University of Texas at Austin, for example, has been nakedly authoritarian and censorious. But there is no inalienable right to break into and occupy university buildings. (Nor is there an inalienable right to constantly harass Jewish students as they try to move around campus.)

As the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) points out, civil disobedience is not the same as expressing an opinion or engaging in peaceful protest. The whole point of it is to break the rules. Indeed, it ‘derives expressive power from the willingness of participants to accept the consequences of breaking the rules’. That these students and junior academics are shocked to be handcuffed for breaking the law reveals a profound sense of entitlement among young ‘radicals’.

We shouldn’t be surprised. FIRE president Greg Lukianoff has pointed to two dispiriting, parallel trends in American universities: a willingness to curtail free speech, all while giving a green light to violent, intolerant protests. At the University of California, Berkeley, where students rioted in 2017 because that tiresome weirdo Milo Yiannopoulous was speaking, the university ‘showed cowardice in its unwillingness to punish the rioters’, writes Lukianoff and Angel Eduardo in a recent op-ed. We saw a similarly rank capitulation at Evergreen State that same year, where marauding students were effectively allowed to chase professors Bret Weinstein and Heather Heying off of campus. Since then, ‘shutdowns and shout-downs have become commonplace’, they write.

Some critics of campus cancel culture have been caught off guard by the pro-Hamas protests. Almost a decade ago, they observe, we were all gawping at the ‘Yale Snowflakes’, those absurd Ivy Leaguers who went into open, teary-eyed revolt because academic Erika Christakis sent them an email saying they should chill out about offensive Halloween costumes. How did babyish offence-taking give way to open support for anti-Semitic terrorists?

But it all makes a perverse kind of sense. Students taught that freedom of speech is a form of violence have begun to see violence as a form of free speech. Young radicals reared on a crude, conspiratorial racial identity politics have begun to apply it to geopolitics, with predictably anti-Semitic results. A new generation of elite youth, overprotected and indulged in equal measure, have come to think they can do no wrong.

So let’s retire the Sixties comparisons. In 1964, when Mario Savio – civil-rights activist and student leader of the Free Speech Movement – was leading a campaign of civil disobedience, aimed at liberating Berkeley students from censorship, his cause was just and he was happy to suffer the consequences of his methods. ‘There is a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious’, he famously said, ‘you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels… you’ve got to make it stop!’. Meal plans did not get a mention.

At the same time, let’s not pretend that today’s revolting students just appeared, fully formed, from the womb. They are the products of an academic and upper-class culture that has kindled their prejudices and inflamed their intolerance. They aren’t revolutionaries. They’re bigoted brats. And they’ve been pandered to for far too long.

==

Students taught that freedom of speech is a form of violence have begun to see violence as a form of free speech.

This is an important point. The people who insisted that "words are violence" and that "misgendering" someone is as good as murdering them, are busy trying to pretend that their violence and destruction is merely a form of protected free speech and opinion expression.

It's not. They're trying to gaslight society.

If you're too stupid or too ideologically compromised to stand up and go get a glass of water, you probably should remove yourself from the gene pool.

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Virginia Dress from Ivy City Co ($138)

[promitto-amor]

Opportunity

It's been a WHILE since I was on Tumblr, but I find myself inspired to write and Mark Hoffman reappeared in Saw X at the most opportune time...

Summary: Mark Hoffman has a special interest in the Rook at his precinct. After she blows off post-work drinks for a date, Hoffman can't let the opportunity to make a move pass by when she turns up at the bar with a familiar date.

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x Ivy Reeves (original character)

Warnings: Language!

There aren't nearly enough Mark Hoffman fics out there so this is my contribution. Who doesn't like a jealous Hoffman hmm? Ivy is mine from a fanfic I never finished years and years ago. I've brought her back for this one shot because she needed a name for this fic to work. Please feel free to insert your own name! This is pretty PG for me! Also I will forever headcanon that Adam lived. 👀

Mark didn’t like work drinks. Ever since he had been converted, the thought of alcohol always turned his stomach to lead. The temptation to once more travel down the path of blackout nights was always too great and Mark had to keep his wits about him.

He couldn’t afford to slip up. One slip up could spell the end for him.

Clenching his fist around the non-alcoholic beer that had sat in front of him for the last hour, Hoffman surveyed the throng of drinkers. Among them was Fisk, his occasional partner and first Detective on the Jigsaw case. A man that was too simple for this world, simple enough to have achieved the rare feat of never prompting Jigsaw to put him in a trap. Beside him was Rigg, a future victim, but for now Rigg could live his life in the ignorance that his time was being drained as fast as his third drink. Kerry looked how Mark felt. She’d spent most of the night staring at her gin, too down about Eric Matthews to be in much of a social mood, despite Rigg’s encouragements.

It seems that Matthews himself really was the life of the party. Too bad he’s stuck in some cell of Jigsaw’s making to join them for Friday night drinks.

The only other person who could have made the night somewhat better would have been Ivy. The youngest on their serial killer task team, Ivy had taken to staying late, volunteering to take on swabbing through the heaps of evidence recovered from the latest game. Whether this was due to a morbid fascination with Jigsaw’s modus operandi, or ambition to get ahead in her job, Mark wasn’t sure. But it certainly made the nights when he had to stay late less lonely. With his fellow co-workers becoming more despondent since Matthew’s disappearance, Ivy’s lack of inter-work relationships was refreshing.

Ivy made the best coffee in the office and was the only person to remember that Mark took his coffee black.

A body slumps down beside him, Fisk leans in close to him. “Reckon I’ll be able to get two weeks off?”

“You planning a vacation?” Mark tips back his glass and tries to finish it, but there’s too much left to down in one.

“Thinking of it.” Fisk admits, “I feel like things might be slowing down. I know we had one last week but…hey doesn’t look like anything big is planned.”

“Could just be a matter of time.”

“Maybe,” Fisk grins. “All the more reason to be out of the city when it happens.”

Mark would like to trap him for that alone, but sadly if he could have left New Jersey and Jigsaw behind, he would have been in Europe by now. There was a time when he thought about it. Around the time Ivy had become more present in the Jigsaw case, Mark had allowed himself to fantasise about starting a new life in another country. A new face and a warm smile to wake up next to. But John’s recent resilience across the border in Mexico had proved Mark will never be free until Jigsaw and his puppet apprentice were both dead.

Fisk casts a look round the bar, “Where’s the rook tonight?”

“You’ve gotta stop calling her that.”

”I know,” Fisk nods. “Force of habit, besides she is still new to the task force.”

“Even so she’ll punch you for that soon.”

“I notice you’re avoiding my question.” 

Fisk is eying him and so Mark has no choice but to grumble out, “She has a date.”

“Interesting.” Fisk enunciates every syllable and leans back on his bar stool. “Any idea who?”

“No.” Mark seriously considers ordering a shot, “That’s all I know.”

“Good for her.” Fisk says, “For making sure she has a life. Important that, you know?”

Mark’s known him long enough to get the hint, “I’m fine, Fisk.”

“I know,” Fisk says again, his eyes now on Kerry. “I guess better to be single than caught up with a married colleague.”

Maybe John would allow Fisk to be trapped on the basis of being a gossip?

The bar door opens a couple of times as Fisk continues to chatter about a variety of topics. Mark offers one worded answers whenever suitable. On the fourth time the bar door opened, Adam Stanheight walks through the door. He doesn’t know who Mark is, but Mark knows the wannabe PI well.

This kind of dive bar is where he’d expect Stanheight to frequent. A place where lost souls gather to watch the same generic rock bands, play pool and eventually hook up. Exactly why Mark’s precinct usually favours it. Easy to get lost in the flow of people that gather. It is not the sort of place anyone should bring Ivy Reeves on a date.

She slides in after Adam. Rigg spots her immediately and sends her an enthusiastic wave. Ivy pauses on seeing her coworkers, whispers something to Adam and he too looks over. Adam’s eyes dart from Rigg to Ivy and on her taking his hand the two make their way to the bar. Mark notes Ivy puts as much distance between their position and her position at the bar as possible.

Fisk’s eyes are watching everything unfold, “Isn’t that-“

“Yeah.”

“From the bathroom game.”

“Yes.”

“The one that just appeared.”

Ivy had been the one to speak with a nearly dead Adam Stanheight, who appeared at the Angel of Mercy hospital at some godforsaken hour. He’d been dumped in an empty bed and hooked up to an IV with saline solution. Apparently it had given the nurses quite the scare and when all Adam could say was the word ‘bathroom’, the hospital had been quick to call in the Jigsaw task force.

Mark knows who freed Adam. He’d heard the same rant from Amanda over and over about how interfering Doctors should stay in their lanes.

On that rare occasion, Mark had agreed with her.

Ivy’s eyes track across the room and Mark hopes she might be looking for him. Taking the opportunity before him Fisk calls out, beckoning Ivy over. Mark waits for her to find him and once she has Mark offers her a small nod. She looks away and her hand subconsciously tugs at her top. When she turns back to them Ivy holds up a finger and Fisk shoots a smirk at him.

“What are the odds?”

“She can date whoever she likes.”

“Never said she couldn’t” Fisk is watching him like Mark has become his favourite TV show. “You jealous?”

“She’s ten years or so younger.”

“So?”

“Shut it, Fisk.”

Ivy accepts a drink from Adam, who hasn’t stopped talking since they arrived and takes a cautious sip. When she thinks it’s been long enough, she glances over at Mark again. He catches her eye again and this time, Ivy has little choice but to whisper in Adam’s ear and make her way over to them.

“Did you know we were coming here?” Fisk ask as soon as Ivy’s in earshot.

“No,” She says, leaning in close to hear Fisk over the chatter. “Adam knows this place, an ex-friend of his used to play here.”

“Hoffman’s been missing you.”

Mark’s definitely putting Fisk in a trap. Even if he has to lie about the reason. Ivy’s eyes slip back to him, “I doubt that. You all look like you’re having so much fun.”

“Sarcasm?” Mark asks and Ivy sends him a shy grin.

Adam sidles up behind her. He rubs the back of his neck, “Didn’t think I’d see you guys so soon.”

“How you doing?” Fisk starts up small talk with Adam, as if he really cares about his recovery. This leaves Mark the perfect opportunity to corner Ivy. He stands up and leans on the bar, blocking Fisk and Adam from her line of sight. “How’s the date?”

Ivy sips her drink. Her eyes look in all directions but at Mark as she searches for her answer. She’s uncomfortable. But for what reason? Is it because she’s out with a victim of the case she’s working? Mark doesn’t even know if that would count as a conflict of interest. Ivy finally answers in a voice low enough that Mark has to lean in, “Adam’s my usual type. He’s nice enough, made me laugh on our first date.”

Mark places his empty glass on the bar top. “But not enough on a second date?”

Ivy’s fingers tighten on her own glass, “I thought I would enjoy it more than I am.”

“What’s wrong then?”

She glances over at Kerry and Rigg, “I should say hello to them.” She glances back to him, as if asking permission.

Mark seizes the opportunity, “You knew we were going here. Did you convince him to take you here tonight?”

Mark didn’t need to be a Detective to read the guilt that washes over her. “I wasn’t feeling it much when I agreed to go out again. I thought if we came here, where you were, I’d have an easier way out.”

He presses in a little closer to her. Ivy’s eyes jump over his shoulder, like a skittish doe, no doubt checking on Adam. Mark knows he’s sizing her up, the dare evident in how he’s gotten so close to her. “Do you need a way out, Ivy?”

“No.” She balks and takes a step back. She tips her drink back, places the glass on the table and crosses the short distance to reclaim Adam from Fisk. She leads her ‘date’ over to the pool tables and Mark retakes his seat by Fisk.

“I like him.” Fisk announces, “He plays electric guitar.”

“He still stalking people and taking their pictures?”

Fisk shakes his head, “Didn’t ask, but I doubt it.”

Mark’s eyes stalk Ivy as she collects the pool cues. Adam is lining up the balls and then he’s leaning over Ivy, helping her break. Not that she needs help. Mark’s certain Ivy’s played before, judging by how she lines up her shot and pockets a stripe.

“I’m going home.” Mark announces, “Someone’s gotta be coherent in the morning.”

“Yeah, me too.” Fisk nods, “I’ll tell the others.”

Mark sidles over to the back exit, where he’ll deliberately pass by Ivy. She’s leaning against her pool cue, chalking up the end when Mark presses himself behind her to get past. “Your opportunity is leaving.” He murmurs in her ear, hands finding her waist. He knows it’s a cheap move, but Ivy tenses deliciously under his touch. He doesn’t care whether Stanheight is watching or not. Mark pushes open the back door and heads for his car, parked just a couple of feet away.

Thankful he’s made it another night without drinking, Mark puts the key in the ignition and waits a couple minutes. Just as he’s about to drive away, the backdoor opens. Ivy walks straight for his car, opens the passenger door and climbs in.

Mark leans back in the driver’s seat and waits for her to speak.

“Just take me home, Mark.”

“I don’t know where you live.”

She turns her head to face him, “Yes, you do.”

Mark sets off. He lets the silence linger between them as Ivy plays with her fingers. The small bag she’s been carrying around all night is on her lap. Mark can tell the silence is eating at her, but she’s too stubborn to speak first. When they are less than five minutes away, Mark gives her some mercy. “What did you say to get away?”

“I said forensics had found something.” She heaves a sigh and runs a hand over her face, smudging some of her mascara. She’s still beautiful to Mark.

“Why’d you lie?”

“Because I wanted to be with you.”

Her admission unsettles him as much as it pleases him. To have won another kind of game, one Mark has rarely ever let himself play is thrilling. He could see how it could become addictive, but Mark isn’t going to be smug about it. Not much. “I didn’t think you’d entertain the idea of someone like me.”

It should be more of a warning than it is. He should be pulling over, telling her to get out. Mark knows he should do everything he can to make her hate him. But Mark can only resist one temptation tonight.

Ivy doesn’t answer as he pulls up outside her apartment block. Mark smirks as the cliche, loaded question leaves him, “Do you want me to walk you upstairs or are you good?”

Finally, she looks at him, “Do you want to?”

He bites back a growl. “Of course I fucking want to.” He says, holding onto the last remnants of his restraint. “You’ve been on my mind all fucking night, Reeves.”

She reacts at once, climbing across the gearbox and onto his lap. Mark just pushes the seat back in time as Ivy settles herself. His hands don’t know where to hold, his bravado from earlier abandons him when Ivy is bearing down on him in all areas. She looks down at him for a second and then her lips are on his. 

--------

How tempted I was to keep this going, but sometimes a tease is better than full smut no? You can let your imaginations go wild from here. 😈

[princess-of-the-corner]

So, just a bit of random DC trivia, but there's this popular rumor on tumblr that Batman has a "No metas in Gotham" rule.

However there is no such, nor has there been such a 'rule' in canon as far as I'm aware and certainly not a longstanding thing.

I always found it odd as honestly, trying to enforce it when several of his enemies are metas already raises questions, would Poison Ivy have to hang outside the Gotham city line?

XD

Now this isn't to say Batman doesn't try and control who operates inside Gotham, as far as he's concerned its "His" city. Regardless of whether the other people operating there are also local, or foreign, or meta, he likes deciding who operates, where and how or even if.

Its basically just a manifestation of his controlling personality seen in many comics. But that doesn't mean anyone actually, ya know, listens to him. XD

Hence these things often ending in a punch up or shouting matches.

Pretty much the only people who kind of listen are teen heroes who really respect or are intimidated by him, but even then most will ignore it when t suits them.

Ironically it gets easier to ignore the more local you are to Gotham.

Maybe just cos its easier to cross his imaginary lines when in proximity, or cos they've seen Batman getting slapped around enough times that he doesn't have quite the same mystique.

I tend to imagine this also factors into other adult heroes not taking him as seriously either in most comics.

Batman: Stay out of Gotham. Ollie: No, & does your throat need a lozenge? Cos doing that voice sounds like its bad for you. (Continues shooting boxing gloves arrows)

Honestly I think it'd be the same as the ML rule of like

"No I don't have a thing against people with powers but Clark for fucks sake can you think about how bad it would be if you got smacked in the face with Scarecrow's Fear Toxins??"

And then yeah also Bruce is a bit of a control freak.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

Nestled beside traffic-choked New York Avenue NE, the historically Black Ivy City neighborhood in Washington, D.C., was built in the late 19th century as a community for African American laborers who soon found themselves living amid industrial sites and a racetrack. 

Today, the neighborhood, like so many in D.C., is partially gentrified but can’t completely escape the environmental inequities of its past or the suffocating exhaust from traffic of present rush hours. 

“A lot of us are experiencing issues with breathing,” said Sebrena Rhodes, an Advisory Neighborhood Commission member and organizer with the nonprofit Empower DC. “Everybody is experiencing the exact same thing.”  

Ivy City is an archetypal “environmental justice” community in which residents have for years been disproportionately harmed by pollution, as a growing body of research makes clear. 

A study published last month in the journal Nature Medicine by Assistant Professor Pascal Geldsetzer and other researchers and collaborators at the Stanford University School of Medicine found that Black Americans have had the highest proportion of deaths from fine particulate matter air pollution, known as PM2.5, when compared to all other racial or demographic subgroups from 1990 to 2016. 

Fine particulate matter includes particles produced primarily through vehicle fuel emissions and other burning of oil, coal and wood that are less than 2.5 micrometers in diameter, small enough to lodge deeply in the lungs, affect other vital organs and even enter the bloodstream. 

PM2.5, about one-thirtieth the diameter of a human hair, causes a range of harmful health effects, from aggravating asthma and other respiratory illnesses to increasing the risk of death from lung cancer, heart disease, dementia and stroke. 

“It’s very well recognized that PM2.5 is the biggest environmental killer globally,” said Tarik Benmarhnia, associate professor at the University of California San Diego’s Scripps Institution of Oceanography and the study’s senior author. 

Researchers found that Black Americans had the highest PM2.5-attributable mortality in 96.6 percent of U.S. counties and faced a “double jeopardy,” being more exposed to PM2.5 pollution and more susceptible to its adverse health effects due to poverty, existing medical conditions, more hazardous jobs and lack of access to housing and health care. 

“Exposures to air pollutants, broadly, are not shared equally. They fall disproportionately on racial minorities throughout the U.S.,” said Marshall Burke, an associate professor at Stanford’s Doerr School of Sustainability and a co-author of the study. 

[disregardcanon]

semi-realistic thoughts about where the yellowjackets and co might be in 2021 if the plane HAD crashed but they got rescued before laura lee died because misty never found the black box

tai- in exactly the same place, but with better coping mechanisms and a stable and realistic relationship with simone. sammy still has some issues because tai represses stuff and is still a politician who’s keeping secrets about the wilderness, but tai actually does let him get the therapy he needs. she’s still close to shauna and akilah, and she wishes that she could be close with van, but things are weird there. she always knew van wanted different things out of life than she did, but it was a lot harder to break things off after they lived through a plane crash and a few months in the wilderness together.

van- jack of all trades, master of none. she’s been a summer camp counselor all over the country, done bit parts in lots of movies, was on jeopardy once, managed a spirit halloween, got involved in cutco knives before she realized it was an mlm, worked at an amusement park, taught english to kids in different countries (never with the US military though because that sucks), worked at a ski resort. she’s had a lot of girlfriends that never really stuck, but she’s glad for all of them. she still talks to quite a few of the yellowjackets, but it’s... hard. when she talks to tai. taissa the accomplished lawyer and now state senator thinks that she should settle down, and that’s a little hard to hear from the high school girlfriend who dropped van when she went off to college.

coach ben- after his experience in the wilderness with the girls and losing his leg, there is absolutely NO way he’s going back to teaching. he tries to make things right with paul and after some work, he ends up moving in with paul in the city. paul’s a writer already, so ben gives it a try and does some comedy columns and sports columns.

nat- had a couple of years right after high school where she was drifting and on just about every drug in the book until she accidentally runs into ben and paul at a party and ben’s like oh my god NATALIE!??! and makes her sleep on their couch for a while. eventually she ends up making weird art and coaching a kids’ soccer team. she has some short term romantic relationships with both men and women but none of them ever really stick.

misty and crystal- coach very gently told her when they were in the hospital that he was gay and not interested. and she was like “oh you figured it out because i was so wonderful and you weren’t attracted to me, so you knew you couldn’t like girls?” and he sighed and went. yes misty. that’s how. and she put a hand on his shoulder and said “how brave. how inspiring” and then misty started telling this story to any teammate who would listen. crystal was the only one who didn’t roll her eyes and she was like “omg, a gay teacher? like in the children’s hour????” and then they become best friends going into the next year of school. misty doesn’t HAVE a secret that’s big enough to break them up so they just. stay together.

misty stays on as the equipment manager but mainly just to cheer on her bestie and they join theater together. they don’t do very well but they LOVE it, and they decide to go to the same college to be roommates. crystal becomes a quirky high school theater teacher and misty still becomes a concerning RN who dates and intimidates weird little guys, but they live together and are like, what, gay? *pft* no, we’re besties! and they are, but god are they weird about it

laura lee and lottie- lottie’s parents made her go to the same ivy that her dad went to, and she really hates it, even though she does her best and gets her degree. (i’m thinking some kind of counseling/leadership) laura lee goes to a bible college that skews too conservative for her and she hates it too, so much that she decides to drop out until she can figure out where she DOES want to go. a lot of soulsearching and mishaps later, and lottie is taking on a youth minister position at a nondenominational hippie dippie queer loving church and inviting laura lee to check it out, and laura lee falls in LOVE WITH IT and then goes straight into the seminary she can find that best lines up with her own values. they become a power couple and get married in 2004 as soon as it’s legal. they end up with a congregation that isn’t very large but is dedicated and does a lot of good in their area.

travis and javi- coach martinez still died, so things are hard, but not nearly as hard as in canon. they work through his death as best as they can with their mom, and travis stays at home the next year to go to community college before leaving home. javi makes him join a dungeons and dragons campaign and it actually helps him a lot with the Big Feelings Time. travis goes into something that his dad thought was nerdy and not masculine enough but that he likes and is good at, and javi becomes an artist. he and shauna collaborate sometimes on projects <3. also travis and jackie become weird friends at community college

mari- she’s an mlm girlie but one that is Proud! Of! It! she’s got a big enough downline that she actually supports herself this way, even though it.... still sucks and is soulsucking. but it lets her be a little bitchy, do tasks, and be kind of in charge and kind of not in charge and mari DOES like that.

melissa and gen- let them play soccer together in college because they were on the fabled yellowjackets team that never got to go to nationals as well as the one that WON! let melissa get butcher. let gen have a sexuality crisis as she gets jealous about girls falling all over her best friend. let them be soccer lesbians who eventually move to denver and buy a subaru

akilah- they find out that shauna’s pregnant before they’re rescued and right before laura lee’s able to make her incredible journey. akilah the girl scout finds herself worrying about what might have happened if they had to deliver a baby out there, even though they DIDN’T. then she does a lot of research into the subject on top of studying for her SAT and finds out about maternal mortality rates in the united states, especially among black women like her and her sister. she decides to become an OBGYN to try to fight the problem, and despite the hardships, she makes it happen. she also gets to upset her sister with terrible pregnancy fun facts, which is what siblings are for

jackie- has a blowout fight with shauna about the jeff thing after they get back, straining her relationships with every member of the team. she still tries at college, but she rushes and doesn’t get a bid for a single sorority (she’s going through a crisis where she’s realized she’s a lesbian and doesn’t know what to do with that and also. is very depressed and angry), her potluck roommate doesn’t like her, and her classes are so hard now without shauna to help. she doesn’t know how to ask for help and things spiral for the two semesters it takes for her to get kicked out of college. she’s home the summer afterward, with her parents desperately trying to get her to figure out a different college or go out with jeff again (we understand what he did, but you aren’t exactly... rolling in prospects right now) and she’s just going crazy in her room.

shauna and jackie- shauna gets an abortion and does go to brown! she’s really upset with where things ended with jackie, but she’s still close to tai and some of the other girls and she’s exploring her bisexuality at college, so she’s doing okay javi sends her drawings sometimes, and that’s nice. when she comes home over her first summer and sees jackie absolutely rotting... she feels awful enough to try to mend the bridge. it doesn’t totally work, but by the end of the season they’re on speaking terms again, and over the next few holiday breaks they become tentative friends again, then good friends, then homoerotic girls who are dancing around each other.

jackie tries out the community college thing and tries hanging out with jeff again, who’s working at his parents’ furniture store. her parents are convinced they’re dating and jeff kind of is too and jackie... tries to see if she can fix herself. she forces herself to let it be dating and then they have sex and it feels wrong and weird and bad... but she does it. and jeff’s magical sperm does its thing.

timeline-wise the pregnancy becomes clear about 3 months before shauna’s graduation from brown/jackie’s graduation from the community college. (she and travis are weird friends there. no i’m not elaborating but it happened) and her parents are freaking out and trying to get her and jeff to get married right now immediately to save face, and jackie just. cries. and calls shauna. and cries some more. and they have a heart to heart and confess some feelings and decide that they’ll try dating and kinda. raise the baby together. (it’s callie yay!)

jackie isn’t going to be able to move in with shauna until after she finishes this semester and gets a bigger place, and her parents are livid that she refused jeff’s offer and is still keeping the baby! (they don’t even know she’s a lesbian yet) so she has to move in temporarily with the martinezes javi shows her lots of art pieces and is like “would shauna like this?” and the answer is always yes.

eventually, shauna becomes an editor for the local paper and a fiction writer. jackie stays home with bby callie for a bit and then cycles between different odd jobs for a while as she tries to find a good fit. she eventually ends up as middle management at a small company where she does a whole lot of team-building exercises that everyone pretends to hate until she pulls out the prizes

[fionamooore]

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[fiona moore. 26. cis woman. she/her] is here! they’ve lived in asbury park for [five months] and are originally from [mclean, virginia]. they are a [podcaster] and love [reading] and [beach running]. they look like [kaia gerber] and live on [pine street]. the song reminds me of them is [whore by in this moment].

personality overview:

+ charismatic, visionary, responsible, empathetic - calculating, distrustful, hypocritical, self-conscious  when it comes to fiona, there’s really no in between. you’ll either find her absolutely delightful or unbelievably unbearable. commanding a room comes second nature to her, and her confident aura could lead someone to believe that she’s got it all figured out; but, much of it, is just a carefully crafted facade.

family history:

married in 1996, david and allison moore met while working as interns in washington, dc. the couple welcomes twins, finn and fiona in 1998 and allison gives up her career to raise their children. over the years, david becomes one of the most prominent financial consultants in the industry, earning the moores' high-profile connections. wanting the best for their children, the couple settles in mclean, va, a wealthy suburb outside of dc, where they have since become influential figures in the community.

about fiona:

fiona grew up in an affluent suburb, but she wasn’t your typical privileged child. her dissonance started at six years old on a field trip to the national zoo. for the first time, she saw a unhoused person, hunched over on a park bench. unlike the unbothered adults who passed by without a second thought, fiona couldn’t help but stare. the contrast between the idyllic life she led and this person’s reality would fuel her mission for social justice.  at the age of ten, she spearheaded fundraisers; by thirteen, she was organizing charity events; and by sixteen, she had written her first set of policy initiatives. it comes as no surprise when fiona’s voted most likely to succeed in her senior year. her path is clear to anyone who knows her– go study at an ivy and run for office. and she does just that, choosing to study political science at princeton. debate and policy come as naturally as breathing, making her a standout student. after graduation, the next step in her ten-year plan is to attend law school. however, the harsh realities of the legal system quickly shatter her sense of idealism– technicalities over justice, pragmatism over principle.  it all begins to take its toll and in her second year at columbia law, she drops out and returns to her parents’ home in virginia. after some encouragement from her brother, fiona launches a political commentary podcast called nasty woman. the podcast becomes an overnight sensation after only four episodes, thanks to a friendly algorithm and an impassioned rant about roe v. wade. ever since then, fiona has been gen z’s favorite political news source.  propelled by her success, she moves back to new york city to reconnect with her best friend from college, who joins her as a co-host of nasty woman (now nasty women). but, after her brother's stint in rehab, the best friends decide to temporarily relocate to asbury park to support him during his outpatient treatment.

tldr:

fiona has enough charisma to captivate crowds. effortlessly connecting with others comes easy, but her sharp wit and unapologetic opinions can be a double-edged sword. growing up, fiona internalized the need for perfection. however, if you're able to get past the facade, you'll discover fiona can be both playful and compassionate. after high school, fiona attended princeton to study political science, even spending two years at columbia law before ultimately dropping out. with her brother's support, she launches a political podcast that becomes an overnight success. she's now in asbury, to try and provide him the same kind of support.