#and when I remember that it was something the fandom pulled out of thin air and will most definitely NOT be featured in future seasons

[vincentsleftear]

it started out as a crack ship but this reghabi x cobel shit ain’t a game anymore.

[lukolabrainrot]

Toronto and Ireland (Part 1)

I observed a shift in L/N's behavior and non-verbal cues by the time they got to Toronto. Their non-verbal cues signaled to me that there was a since of ease and confidence with them BTS. However, I think that looked very different in both locations. Refer to my timeline theories here on my thoughts on what was going on between L/N before Toronto. Below are my thoughts.

Toronto

Let's first address the fact that there was a break between Brazil and Toronto. It was ~2 weeks from what I remember. During the break the following happened:

L went back and liked all of A's posts back to July 2023. Previously, he had only liked her posts up to October/November 2023.

A chopped her hair off

I believe the DM likes from A's mom occurred around this point as well (or during Brazil)

There were some SoHo Farmhouse pics posted by A (I believe?), but no one could confirm if those were current or old photos (as A has a history of posting old photos to insinuate she is with L in real time when she isn't)

There was nothing else though to publicly link L/A during this break (from my understanding, correct me if I am wrong?)

This break is also when the rumored Spain trip between L/N occurred (but there is no evidence this actually occurred)

N was publicly seen at the Mighty Hoopla music festival with her friends the weekend before Toronto

N and L appear to fly into Toronto on separate flights

Alright I am going to throw out something that is purely a theory, regarding A, at that point in time, and now. I've kind of avoided directly talking about my theories on A because I just don't have enough information to confidently analyze what is going on. But with everything that has come out recently, and especially this week, I feel more and more confident on this theory (but again, it's just a theory):

As I mentioned, I firmly believe L/N physically acted on their feelings at points on the tour, and by Brazil, A was FLIPPING OUT because I think she sensed L pulling away. A had been around for a while, and I don't believe there were any firm boundaries/labels set on their relationship, but A had her sights set on riding his coattails and trying to get fame/attention from being in his orbit. She is also DEEPLY insecure and envious of N. Lastly, she is a WILD CARD and had been publicly known about in the fandom for a while. I think there was some overlap between N and A, and L did not want A leaking that s**t. Whyy... because he LOVES N. This is also his bed he made, and he needed to lie in it and clean up his mess. The optics of all of this do not look good for L & N if all of this information got released to the public. I also think that's why the DM comments got scrubbed on the site (which doesn't just happen out of thin air). He needed to start cleaning s**t up if he and N ever want to go public someday.

Therefore, he went back during the break to make up with A and reassure A he wasn't just going to drop her from his orbit (hence things like liking more of her posts so people took notice, and it made it seem they were more serious than previously thought). Tbh, I don't think it was very hard for him to keep her appeased because I honestly don't think this relationship goes any deeper than casual and transactional.

Then L/N became even more obvious about their feelings during Toronto and Ireland imo, and then all hell broke loose at the premiere (because a certain 🐜 was PISSED and getting revenge).

My whole point with all this is this. L was NEVER going to be able to unravel from A during the PR tour because it had already become public that she was connected to L (even if he was already checked out at this point). He was always going to have to officially acknowledge A to the public, let people get use to them as a "unit", and then slowly unravel over a couple of months in a way that satisfied A and didn't encourage her to go rogue (because I think we are getting more and more proof that she DOES go rogue). This included what we have seen between them since the premiere. I firmly believe that A has some information that would eff up L&N being able to confidently go public at some point if they want to without this really messy public narrative (because if L/N ARE indeed working on their relationship, it is probably going to be a little messy no matter what when/if they go public). L is letting A therefore get the attention she wants rn, and trying to stay as publicly unconnected to N as possible. I think he severely underestimated the impact this was all going to have on his career though (at least in the short-term). Do I think this also probably put somewhat of a strain on his relationship with N? Most likely, yes. However, they have known each other for many years, and have gone through a lot together. I don't think N sees A as a threat to her and L in any way, and I think L/N are figuring things out in private. And do I think just because A is still in L's orbit that that means they are super happy and madly in love? Absolutely not. The optics of everything we have seen around L/A since the premiere speak VOLUMES, and that is all I will say on that.

I was fired up about all of this because of the events this week, so I needed to get this off my chest 😅 I think though that everything we have seen between L/A since after Brazil is just another indicator that L/N are serious about each other (if that makes sense). THIS IS JUST A THEORY THOUGH.

And does this all seem messy? Yes. Because the short answer is that it is. Human beings though are messy, and I think unfortunately a lot of this played out on a very public stage, so everyone is trying to figure out what to do now.

Alright, back to Toronto. A lot of people thought the vibes seemed off between L/N, but I disagree. This was the part of the tour where I started coming to the conclusion that there was something BIG going on between L/N BTS (in a good way), that went deeper than just wild sexual chemistry/attraction. Here are my thoughts:

I personally think L/N took time during the break to have some big conversations in private about their future together, in a "normal" setting outside of the tour. I think they came to a conclusion that their feelings were larger than just the show and tour, and that this was going to be one of those BIG relationships for both of them. I think they also had conversations about how A was going to tie into the public narrative after the tour (but I think A hijacked that narrative). But I think L/N were very much on the same page going into Toronto.

I also get this sense that by this point in Toronto, it was getting harder for them to hide what was going on because things were getting more serious, and they were ALL LOVEY DOVEY AND HAPPY BTS. Although I am going to be honest, I don't think they ever hid their feelings for each other very well on the tour (especially L). And this was all kind of new as well. Therefore, I think that's where some of the "awkward" vibes were coming from, but their nonverbal cues didn't read as disconnect to me (like the beginning of Italy did).

I also have a feeling they were EXHAUSTED by this point, and probably so tired of answering the same questions (I swear, I bet they never want to talk about the carriage scene again 😂). I also heard that they might have been sick in Toronto, so all of this might have also played into the shift in energy.

However, a lot of key things happened in Toronto that signaled to me there had been a positive emotional shift between them. I really started to notice the "couple" eyes between them, and N's walls really dropped and the heart eyes were in full force. Toronto had my favorite interview of them during the tour, which I posted here. We got the the thigh rub from N, the beginning of the Ryan Gosling jealousy from L (I believe), L beginning to get more comfortable and silly on interviews (he seemed VERY happy, and a lot more confident by this point, which I found very interesting 🤔), a few instances where L/N would get lost in a moment with each other and forget they were on an interview, N reassuring L that he was her "favorite", and photos and video of L meeting some of N's extended family (and he looked very happy in the video). Also N didn't end up posting a "bf" pic of L (even though she did for Italy, Brazil, and Ireland). Now it could mean nothing (and it's probably just a coincidence), but I just find it interesting (in a good way 🤔). Yes, a lot of this could be chalked up to PR, and some of it probably was. However, most of this just DID NOT read as professional PR to me. It just wasn't.

Lastly, we got THIS pic of them below in Toronto 👀:

I am going to post an article below about body language between couples in photos. I don't agree with all of the article, but it does have some interesting facts/comments. I would highly recommend looking over the article a little, and looking back at the video that had the compilation of them posing at the different tour stops. I know that this was 100% cutesy PR (and I am not trying to imply they were necessarily an "official couple"), but I found it very telling about HOW they chose to pose at each stop. I feel like it spoke VOLUMES about what was going on between them at each stop. I do want to say that we can't 100% know what was going on for them emotionally BTS at each stop, but I do think it gives us a glimpse. Which is why I found this picture PARTICULARLY interesting. It just screams comfort and security (even with the weird lighting lol).

My point with all this is that I think we caught L/N at a big turning point in their relationship at Toronto, which led to some of the awkward energy at times, but not because they were beefing. I think BTS they were really happy, but they knew they had to not let the WHOLE cat out of the bag, so they were trying to kind of put up a little distance. However, they slipped up constantly, and then everything came to a peak, and that's why we got the magic that was the Ireland stops. I'll talk about my thoughts on Ireland in my Part 2 post, because there is a LOT to talk about. 😅

[biaswreckme]

i choose you and me | san/reader

It's been years, yet there he was, in front of you, and all feelings came rushing back.

Fandom: Ateez

Pairing: San/Reader

Member: San

Length: 1000 words

Rating: Explicit/18+/MDNI

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Tropes: Friends to Lovers to Strangers to Lovers again, Second chance

Triggers/Warnings/Tags: smut, alcohol mentioned, reader doesn't have a name, gn!reader

A.N.: hiiii @skteezcursed i'm your secret santa! i hope you have a great 2025, and i also hope you enjoy this little piece of writing with sannie as much as i enjoyed writing it ♥

Thinking in retrospect, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Your friend liked big parties and knew a lot of people, so you should have expected that her birthday party this year would be just as big as the ones she liked to attend. You should have expected the loud music, the table with snacks, and the one filled with bottles and more bottles of alcohol. You should have expected some of the familiar faces, considering she told you she wanted to invite people from back then, almost a high school reunion.

But more than anything, you should have expected him. 

Choi San.

How many years has it been since you last saw him? Probably when you were parting ways over a decade ago, breaking up before going to college, a misunderstanding hanging over both of your heads and hearts before both decided it would be better to end things, promising to keep being friends yet never truly following through. Once upon a time you looked him up on social media, curious as to how he had been living, how he had been doing, so you knew he looked a little different now, his features more filled out. However, social media pictures on your phone didn’t do him justice in real life. 

You let go of a breath you didn’t know you had been holding when your eyes first happened upon him. He was so different now, yet his eyes still had the same softness that had you falling in love with him in the first place. His body, however, it was a completely different story. When you dated him in high school he was thin and on the smaller side, but now he was big, his body much more filled out and he exhuded an air of confidence. And just by looking at him, you felt all those forgotten feelings rushing back, butterflies dancing in your stomach. Almost as if nothing had changed, no time at all had passed. And before you could gather up your courage, he was the one who took that first step, getting closer to you. 

“Hi,” he said, his smile soft.

“Hi, San,” your voice shook in the two words, and his eyes closed, smiling even more. 

“I guess I’m not the only one that is nervous. It’s… been a while.” 

Even your chuckle was a little shaky, but hearing he was nervous too? “It has… how have you been?” You asked, your nails digging into your palms, trying to calm down. You felt his hands on yours and before you could ask anything, he made your hands unclench, intertwining his fingers into yours. This was something he used to do when you were together whenever you felt anxious, and your heart swelled knowing he remembered.

“I miss you,” he stated, looking into your eyes. “Did you miss me?”

“I did, I do miss you. Every single day,” you answered, “and seeing you now, it’s like all the feelings I had for you never faded…”

He gave you that smile, the one that showed his dimples and almost closed his eyes. And with his hands still holding yours, he pulled you with him, walking to what you assumed was a room in the rented house. You hoped your friend would forgive you both for ditching the party so soon - well, technically you were still there -, but the key was still in the lock, and so you turned it, ensuring that no one would interrupt you. Tomorrow you would talk to him properly, but now, his arms were embracing you and his mouth was pressing onto yours, his tongue gently asking for permission to deepen the kiss, his hands splayed against your sides. 

Being pressed against his body was heavenly; he was sturdy and safe. His confidence showed in his kiss, in his touches as he slowly undressed you, in his fingers as he slowly opened you up for him, both unhurried and in a rush at the same time to feel you be completely his again. You silently thanked the heavens for the fact that he carried a condom with him, and as he pressed the head of his cock against your opening, you thought to yourself that he had got even bigger there. His scent overwhelmed you as he lowered himself onto you, his chest pressing against yours, your nipples sensitive from the chilled air and feeling him so close to you again. 

It was like he wanted to devour you, consume you, his entire being making love to you, barely letting you breathe as he kissed you deeply, intensely. His hips moved in a pattern and rhythm that was familiar yet new, and your nails clawed his back as you tried to hold onto reality, pleasure overtaking you much quicker than you expected. You shook in his arms with the intensity of your orgasm, and he soon shook in your arms too, pressing his sweaty forehead on your neck, his breath showing he was just as affected as you. 

When both of your breaths had slowed down enough to a normal pace again, he rolled over and pulled you into an embrace, his fingers caressing your hair, your fingers tracing the small details in his face and the freckles on his neck. You had never felt this way with anyone else in all these years, and you had a feeling that he hadn’t either, if only by the glistening in his eyes and the fondness with which he looked at you.

“I know there’s probably a lot we have to talk about,” he started, “we’ve grown, we’re probably different people now, and I’m doing this completely out of order, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

You smiled, “I would love to, San, I would love to give us a chance again. Please don’t let me go again.” 

San enveloped you in his arms, kissing you gently, whispering that he wouldn’t let you go. He was choosing you and him. 

[typicalopposite]

sunday sentences... a lot of 'em

i have been tagged in many things by many people... I just have not been writing much. Until... well this

while the majority of the fandom is clowning about Buck and Tommy getting back together... I'm out here clowning about not starting a new wip before I finish another one... another MPREG wip at that!

I got a whole chapter for y'all! <3

Chapter One

He is up before the sun… like always. 

LA is still dark out at 4 AM, no matter which side of daylight savings it is– it’s as quiet and as calm as the ever busy city will possibly get. Tommy chose this as his starting time many years ago for that very reason, and it has never changed. He slips on a pair of running shoes and a thin windbreaker that he’ll probably end up tying around his waist at some point, and heads out the door. 

The air nips at the top part of his face, his grown out stubble guarding his cheeks and chin… He needs to shave today, so he decides to cut a mile from his run to account for the extra time needed and turns a few streets sooner than his typical route. This way takes him by Mrs. Hardett’s house– he wonders if she’s even still alive, he can’t remember the last time he took this way. She would surely be asleep so he has no way to know, however he does see her old station wagon parked in the driveway and the freshly bloomed Buckwheat bush he helped her plant a couple years back, as he passes…

Buckwheat makes him think of Evan– well, everything makes Tommy think of him... but that is a given– the rest of his run back to his house.  

He is still lost in the thought as he decides on a simple breakfast; nothing too fancy, because it’s just him… A bagel with some smoked salmon cream cheese and a bottle of water is what he grabs as he passes through the kitchen, heading to his room. It makes him think of a meme in a group of them that Evan sent him about a person not wanting to find other fish… because they want the emotionally insecure salmon… or something like that.

Was that supposed to mean something?  He’s sure Evan would have said so if it did…

He plugs his phone in and flops onto the bed, unlocking the screen and is instantly met with last night's text thread… between none other than him and Evan. Tommy sighs, reading over the last message— sleep tight! don’t let the bedbugs bite!

He’s like a giant child… Tommy kind of— no… he completely loves it. Isn’t that just… great. 

He doesn’t know how long he just lies there staring at the message before he takes note that he has another unread message. It’s from Ravi; it’s a link. He follows it to a YouTube channel Ravi told him about a few days prior, when they met for lunch. The topic had started veering into Evan territory and Tommy was on the cusp of shutting down, packing it up, and bolting. Ravi, bless him… must have picked up on the mood shift, because suddenly he is talking about listening to these strange, dark, and mysterious stories on his drives to and from the station. 

“I’ll send you the guys channel,” Ravi had offered when Tommy seemed interested. Tommy pulls up the latest video, and pauses it to watch on his ridiculously long drive— 

“Shit,” he hisses out loud realizing he has blown right through his allotted extra time; he still has to get ready! The last bite of the bagel he saves for Soot— an old stray cat that took up with him many years ago. Back when he was still with Abby; she never cared much for cats, so Soot came with him in the break up. It was the only time he left a relationship with anything besides a broken heart… He’s been his little crotchety rock through all of the ones he’s left with that followed. 

A quick shower, a much needed shave, and the smell of salmon scrubbed from his tongue— the man looking back at him as he checks his teeth in the mirror is, in theory, ready to face whatever today brings… 

Damn… looks can be so deceiving, can’t they? 

He grabs his phone, and the last bite of bagel, as he heads out of the room. Soot is sunbathing in the reading chair— more like his sleeping chair, really— flipped over on his back like a dog… Tommy’s surprised his tongue isn't hanging out. He perks up the moment Tommy drops the food into his living room bowl. (“Living room bowl?” Evan had teased Tommy. “Sounds like an excuse to spoil him…” he’d concluded, after Tommy argued that Soot is old, and the kitchen is far from his chair… Evan had rolled his eyes, but the next visit forward he began to leave a little treat in both bowls before he’d leave… Soot seems to miss him, too…)

“I’ll be back later,” Tommy says, scratching behind Soot’s scarred left ear and rubbing down his back. “No parties while I’m gone.” He laughs when the old cat stops eating and gives him an incredulous look like he understood the request. 

Tommy locks the door, walks to his car, and just as he’s about to climb inside his phone dings. A text from Evan. Shift starts soon… but I just wanted to say I’m actually super stoked for Thursday. :)

He pulls the text thread down, going back just a few messages to where Evan asked if he was planning to play basketball Thursday… and that if he wasn’t, would he be open to going biking with him. As if Tommy could tell him no— it was maybe even the fastest of course Evan has gotten out of him to date. Me too ;) he sends back, and unfortunately doesn’t catch his error until he checks the thread again after he arrives at his destination. He sent a wink?!

The message has been read; it has not been responded to. 

Fucking great! 

Tommy sighs, turns his car off, and gets out.  

~~~

Logically Tommy knew there would be a lot of paperwork. He did not, however, expect to have an entire novel worth of forms he would have to fill out. There are so many personal questions he’s not entirely comfortable answering and some he doesn’t really have answers for— any family medical history is as unknown to him as it is to the doctor. He is vague with a lot of it… just says he’s a first responder, not what branch. He gives his PO box, not his physical address. He uses a What’s App number instead of his actual one.   

It’s not like they can really complain about him not being entirely truthful… or entirely trusting of them… the whole thing is very sketchy, and he is sure they know that. Still, he signs off on the bottom of another page and flips it over. Blood type? He thinks he’s B Positive– which is hilariously ironic, because when has he ever been– so he puts B Positive. Has he ever taken drugs? Hah! Wouldn’t they like to know. He puts no… it was a lifetime ago anyway. Are you sexually active? Does a hand and or a dildo count? He unlocks his phone, sees the still unanswered text and begrudgingly puts no– want’s to dramatically add and never will be again, but he doesn’t.

Page by page he answers the questions: his allergies (dust, roses– which was a hilarious and unfortunate discovery the first time Evan ever bought him flowers– and some types of pollen), any medications he’s taking (he’s not… he probably should be), and any serious illnesses he has. 

Well that’s the whole reason he’s here… isn’t it? 

Life has the ability to drive even the strongest most level headed people into the ground, and Tommy has never been  anywhere near a strong, level headed person— regardless of what anyone might think. He had never wanted to follow in his dads footsteps; drinking was never something he enjoyed… The military is a brutal hell hole, however, and he needed something to dull everything going on around him. 

He stopped when he got out… and then he joined the fire academy. He was drinking again a few weeks into life under Gerard. Again just after Abby… again just before coming out. He can’t even remember exactly when he started getting sick… he only remembers the doctor's words. If you don’t stop… you’ll be dead in a year. So he stopped. He got better… A few casual drinks now and then but he was not willing to lose flying– lose helping people– his only escape from life. Then he broke up with Evan… Then he hooked up with Evan… Then he made he idiotic self-punishing decision to just be friends with Evan after everything with the outbreak and the dramatically terrifying Bobby scare… Somehow just being friends has been exponentially worse than being nothing to him…

He was quickly slipping back into a very dark place, and he couldn’t afford to start craving the mental release of a bottle. He also couldn’t afford to run into Bobby at another AA meeting– he had years ago… Bobby is the only other person who knows about his alcohol problems… and his liver– so he went outside of LA… he went quite a ways outside of LA actually; a couple of hours away, close to where Sal had moved to. The meetings were standard, just something to get the weight of it all off his chest… “I’m worried about needing the escape,” he said at one. “Sometimes I just need to forget the hell I’m stuck in– that I keep putting myself in– but I know my body can’t handle it.”

When the woman in the business suit— three inch heels and thin frameless glasses— sat down beside him, at first Tommy thought she was a therapist… ready to offer her support for the sad sack of a man who just poured his heart out about his health fears to a room of strangers. Instead she leaned in and began to whisper to him. They were in the back and the room was clearing out and yet she kept her voice so low Tommy could barely hear her even right by his ear. 

An experimental drug. 

Hope for a clinical trial one day.

The possibility to reverse illness and disease no matter how severe— to keep you from losing quality of life for fear of causing harm to your body.

Groundbreaking.

Life altering… Changing… Saving!

Tommy teasingly asked if she worked for some alcohol company… that she seemed to be trying to bribe him with the opportunity to freely drink again with no health risk. She only laughed and patted his knee, stating she was only using that as a topic point… she would never encourage anyone to do something inherently bad… but the risk of illness shouldn’t be the reason people don’t do things in life. 

“You said you help people, in your line of work…” she continued, cocking a brow and giving a slight smirk. “So do I. This drug will help society… It can save society.” 

He was left a card with a number, a request to seriously consider it, and a hinted offer of it being worth his time— mostly he was left torn. 

Torn much like what he did to the little card once he got home and fished it out of his pocket, tossing the pieces into the trash can. Which is where it stayed for a few days and almost got thrown out forever had it not been for the call from his landlord— he had decided to sell the house. Tommy had to move or buy. He had been begging his landlord to let him rent-to-own the house for years… Now if he wanted it, he had to buy it in full… or pack up and start over somewhere new? Maybe it had been the universe's slap in the face to him turning down Evans offer, he thought bitterly. 

He complained to the void… and to Soot, who seemed very unconcerned. He contemplated for a few more days… Then he fished the card out… and called the number. “Just how worth my time are we talking,” he asked, trying to ignore how he could hear the candy apple red lipped smile as she asked what changed his mind, how he could hear it stretch wider when he admitted he was curious about the compensation. She assured him it would be very generous– half up front half when he returned after the six week expectane trial window. 

He thinks must be crazy to be doing this, and yet here he is… signing the last of the papers and returning them to the desk. A nurse calls him back, she takes a urine sample, a blood sample, checks his vitals and sends him to a room to wait for the doctor– Diana Reddin, she had informed him on the phone. The woman walks in, now donning a white lab coat over a nearly identical pants suit (save for the color) from the day he met her, and a very pleased smile. She shakes his hand and leans back against the counter looking over his paperwork. She questions his blank family medical history and he explains he hasn’t spoken to his family in quite a while… She doesn’t press. 

She asks how he is with needles and he tells her not too bad… “Good,” she laughs. “‘Cause this one is a bit of a doozy…” She closes his chart and smiles. “I’m sure you did your research on the company–” which he had… call him old fashioned but he’d be damned if he was going to blindly trust a lady in a pants suit just because she gave him a heartfelt speech and a fancy business card. They were well known scientists– trained in modern medicine, researching ways to assist with a multitude of diseases; Dr. Reddin was even featured many times on the site. If it wasn’t legit, they had gone beyond all out to make it appear as if it was. 

“I can’t express enough, on behalf of our entire team, how appreciative we are for you, Mr Kinard,” she said. “You’re going to help us make history. We are going to change the world.” 

Tommy hums– it sounds very noble, very intense… when put like that. Maybe he should have considered this more… The room has gone silent and he’s aware it’s apparently his turn to speak, Dr. Reddin’s brows lifted as if waiting for an answer to a question he didn’t even hear her ask. “Uh… Sorry… what?”

“Would you like to get started today?” Dr. Reddin asks, and damn they are wasting no time it seems. “We can get the ball rolling, if you’d like. We will get the big scary injection for the drugs stimulant out of the way, get you set up with the six week supply of the expectane, and I will have the first part of our agreed upon payment waiting with Louise up front.” Five thousand dollars– ten in total– it is all he needs for a downpayment on the house.

Tommy swallows, feeling like there is a fist in his throat making it extremely difficult. He pulls out his phone, unlocks the screen and checks the message. Still nothing… and so he slides the phone back into his pocket, and says he will start the trial. 

<3<3<3<3<3

gonna be a different kind of mpreg this time! if you have seen the movie Junior you'll get it, and hopefully get all the references too!

a few tags: @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @judymarch15

@loversinmalta @somethingaboutfirefly @dum-amo-vivo9 @lovetommyactually @quintessenceofdust88 @rosyhoneydew

@ladyeyrewrites @cafe-con-letty @beanarie @unhingedangstaddict @leashybebes and anyone else who wants to join in!<3

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Four

☁︎ notes: these dummies are so smitten

☁︎ warnings: usual talk of injuries and Beron's abuse. Injured animal (he's okay though)

☁︎ word count: 2.2k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor

The next summon interrupted Aya’s day off. Her promised day of nothingness; no lessons, no jobs, no meetings, and no Court dinners. She planned to curl up in a corner of the green house and read, surrounded by the scent of healing herbs and flowers. Until that infernal ring began to glow once more. She could not ignore it, but she could grumble to herself all she wanted about how talented the Heir of Autumn was at collecting near-death experiences. 

She was still silently complaining while she winnowed, while the world righted itself, and while Edana’s garden appeared before her eyes. What finally stopped the chain of complaints was the sight of Eris standing before her. 

Hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side, he smiled as her gaze met his. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, eyes bright and unclouded by pain or alcohol. The sunlight gilded his copper hair and kissed every freckle. 

Aya found herself unable to remember what she had been thinking about. No memory of her difficult weeks, her reluctance to return to this land of cunning and deception. She was lost in his smile. Something in it made her feel like she knew everything and nothing all at once. 

Eris watched her eyes flick over his form, still struggling to focus after winnowing, and he took the time to study her in turn. Her height surprised him, the top of her head barely level with his shoulder. She had lovely curves, hugged by flowy, pastel fabrics as per the Dawn Court fashion. Her ears were lined with piercings, a gold ring with a gem dangling from her septum. Her wings were a soft glimmering gold dappled with darker brown, feathers rustling in the light breeze. She kept them tucked in tight to her body. And her eyes-

He thought of the sun rising, the blue fading into the orange and leaving that strange greyed-out tone in between. Somewhere in that softly painted sky was the color of her eyes. A brilliant silver, not quite blue, hints of orange. Purple in some lights. Somehow conveying all the loveliness of a misty dawn. Perhaps he had not appreciated the sunrise as much as he should in his five hundred and something years alive. 

In short, they spent entirely too long staring at each other. 

“At last, I meet my savior,” Eris broke the silence.

“I’d hardly call myself a savior,” Aya said, clutching her bag a little tighter. Her voice was as soft and melodic as he remembered from his dream. 

“You deserve countless thanks, nonetheless,” He smiled, and Aya admired the way his freckles moved and dipped to make way for his dimples. 

The crisp air combined with her thin clothes pulled a shiver from her. She had begun to wonder if he had called her there just to thank her when he swept an arm toward the door to Edana’s rooms. 

“One of my hounds is injured,” He said, his expression slipping into something more solemn, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know it’s nothing serious. If you’ll follow me.” 

In the daylight, she could see more details of Edana’s rooms. The trim, doorways, and furniture were cut from the same dark wood as the rest of the Forest House, but the Lady had her walls painted light colors. Her decorations ventured outside of the familiar autumn color palette, a few daring shades of blue scattered throughout. 

Aya also noticed for the first time that the door to the stone hallway was different from the rest. Aside from being situated in a strange place, it was older, warped and scratched. It had been left slightly ajar, and she could see from its faint purple glow that it was enchanted. When the door was shut, it would disappear from the wall entirely. 

She followed him through the doorway, watching the fae-lights in the dim hall illuminate his muscled shoulders and well tailored shirt. As the ever present silence of the stone hallway wrapped around them, it finally hit her that they were alone. 

“This is a private passage?” She asked softly, “There’s never anyone here.”

“Yes,” He answered, his voice strangely tense, “It’s an old passageway either unknown or forgotten by my father.”

He did not elaborate and she did not pry any further. It bothered Eris that she had been here twice before and he had not been conscious of it. He had no idea what she had seen and heard and learned. Things he should have been there to shield her from, no doubt.

When she stepped through the doorway, Aya shivered, her wings ruffling. Eris’s brows knit together. He had never seen anyone react to wards that way before. He watched as she scanned the room and locked in on the hound laying on his bed, needing no instruction. When she approached, she offered him the back of her fist to sniff, and he seemed to have no qualms with her coming closer. She soothed him before moving to his wound, smoothing down his dark fur and massaging his ears, all the while murmuring kind words and praise. 

Eris almost smiled, wondering if she understood how ferocious that beast could be. He had seen the same dog with eyes hollow and hungry, blood dripping from his jaw. Not many would go near him. On his feet, he probably stood almost to her shoulder. And here she was, turning him to putty with her pets and kind words. His tail wagged as she spoke to him and he didn’t protest when she finally began to clean and dress his wound. 

“What happened?” Aya asked, eyes remaining focused on the work before her. He admired the dance of her hands, swift and coordinated. 

“He tumbled near the river bank, silly beast,” Eris answered. 

Aya noted the affection in his voice and the embroidered collar around the dog’s neck. A thought also prickled at the back of her mind that Eris was not telling her the real story. Why have her come all of this way if the cause was not something that Beron must not know? But it did not matter, because she wasn’t supposed to sleuth. 

“He has a name, doesn’t he?” She said instead, smiling. 

“Juno,” Eris admitted, a bit sheepishly. Embarrassment crept up the back of his neck, the feeling of being caught at something he tried to hide. Her smile was too knowing, she definitely recognized it as another figure from mythology. 

“I wish I could give you something to thank you properly,” He continued. 

“Well you did interrupt my day off,” She flashed a sly smirk, eyes still on her hands.

“Oh, did I?” His eyebrows raised, lips twitching up into a smile. Something sparked in his veins at her playful tone. “I suppose I’ll have to figure out something special then.”

“If you think that’s fair,” She let out an exaggerated sigh, eyes glittering. 

Eris was distracted by a golden glimmer, catching the light as she worked. It was the ring on her forefinger, a simple gold band that fit snug against her skin. His stomach dropped. 

“My mother bound you?” He whispered, and from his tone she could practically see the embers burning in his throat.. Aya paused and looked up at him, the color draining from his face. 

“Yes,” Her brows furrowed. She thought he would have known that. “Her contract seemed fair. I asked for a written copy.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he said in that same quiet fury, “Will you please send me a copy?” 

“Of course,” Aya said, gaze still stuck on his as she searched his face for answers. It was almost too long before she turned back to the hound, who had begun to whine for her attention. The silence in the room had begun to squeeze.

“I understand that this situation is…delicate,” She continued after a moment, swallowing hard. It was always too quiet here, sounds of arguing and pain the only things to interrupt it. It was unnerving, like balancing a glass ball on each shoulder. 

“I wish she would not have dragged you into it,” He whispered through his teeth. He stood with his arms crossed, looking a little taller than before. This was closer to the image of the Heir she had heard stories about. Though he was certainly less intimidating since she had seen him drunk and smitten with a fictional angel. 

“I can handle it,” Aya said, giving Juno one last pat before rearranging the supplies in her worn leather satchel. 

“You shouldn’t have to.” 

She faced him, bag in hand, tilting her head back to look at him fully. Eris drew in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the reflection of the light on her long glossy curls, in her misty eyes.

“Thesan gave me a talisman,” She pulled up one sleeve to reveal a tattoo on her bicep. A stylized, swirling cloud. “It will give me protection against magic if your father tried to use any against me.” 

The sight of it did strange things to Eris’s heart. He felt the relief of her protection. She was not another liability, another piece on his chessboard that he must keep under his watch at all times. But there was another feeling there, too. Like he resented this thing that separated her from him. That ugly desire to control and protect everything he felt a fondness for reared its head. She belonged to the Dawn Court. She was Thesan’s creature. She may be Eris’s healer, bound to his mother by that horrible ring, but she was not his. She was not loyal to him. Unless she chose to be. And nobody ever chose Eris of their own accord. 

“Good,” Eris said, in another tone that Aya couldn’t read. 

“Oh,” She said, in an attempt to avoid another awkward lull, fishing a corked bottle of green tablets and holding it out to him. “Juno can have these for the pain. They’re mostly herbs so they’re very safe for him.” 

“You’re very kind,” Eris smiled, his voice softened by the kindness she had shown his beloved pet. It was, of course,  a risk to show any affection for his hounds. They were meant to be ruthless weapons. Just like the seven sons. 

“What are your mother’s guards names?” She asked suddenly, brows drawing together. 

“Why?” He swallowed an urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between her eyebrows with his thumb, swiping away whatever worried her just to see her smile again.

“I just think I should know. It seems to rude to refer to them as anything else. They’re not my guards.” 

So she must not know about Thesan’s order for Eris to protect her while she was present in the Autumn Court. He had extended that order to the guards. 

“The older one with dark hair is Caspian, and Asher is blond and bearded,” Eris answered. Aya nodded, and he could practically see her tucking the information away in her mind.

Against the dark wood and warm colors of his room, he thought she looked like a sparkling gemstone. Vibrant Amethyst among common stones. They watched each other in silence for the third time until, reluctantly, he led her back to the winnow spot and let her return to her world. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

The next morning, Aya was pulled from her sleep by a knock on the door. A courier waited on the other side with an envelope and package wrapped in brown paper and string. She thanked him and returned to her bed, holding the parcel in her lap. The paper and string fell forgotten to the floor as she opened it eagerly. 

Inside was a new leather satchel, the same shape and size as her old one. The sides and edges had been dyed a rich mulberry, the leather carved and tooled into an interlocking, curving design. The golden clasp, shaped like a leaf, gleamed in the morning sun. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, so lovely and new compared to the one she had carried daily for years now. The leather had been worn so thoroughly that it drooped and sagged.

Aya opened the bag, finding it lined with pockets and sections the perfect sizes for bandages and vials. There was also an envelope nestled inside, her name scrawled on the front in curly script. She opened it gingerly, planning to add the paper to the box of ephemera under her bed. Mail was a rare treat. 

Aya,

Thank you again for your help. Juno is doing much better and I suspect you have made a friend of him. I hope this gift will be of use to you.

As for retribution for your missed day off, you may also find that your instructors received a strongly worded letter from some anonymous busybody complaining about the state of cleanliness in the healer’s wing. I believe the buildings are being deep-cleaned over the next few days. Enjoy your long weekend. 

Eris

Aya buried her face in her hands, covering her silly, involuntary smile and burning cheeks. She finally bothered to open the other envelope, finding Eris to be truthful. The head of the school had sent a note announcing that classes had been canceled, though they did include a list of assignments to complete and log in the meantime. Assignments that she could complete in the greenhouse, between dozing off and basking in the sunshine the green, herbal scent. Somehow, against all the odds she battled with, Aya had made a friend.

[neyafromfrance95]

so re: my favorite new delusion that the kiss will somehow be adar kissing galadriel to bait sauron, I remembered this scene happens at some point, either ep 6 or 7.

So Sauron is indeed reacting to stuff happening down on the battlefield during the day. Granted, a lot happens he could be reacting (slightly smirking) about. But the possibility is there. Maybe we're due for another controlled fury moment like he had when those numenoreans told him he wasn't good enough for her lol.

Honestly it's like... Based on story momentum, if Galadriel kisses someone romantically it either has to be Sauron or it's a kiss that's somehow still *about* them (which an Adar kiss would be if he's trying to taunt Sauron in a quick moment on the battlefield).

Or it's simply not a romantic kiss and just a cheek, forehead or hand kiss and this was all just a rumor that spiraled simply because Morfydd teased it.

There can't be other romantic kisses unless Celeborn appears out of thin air. Elrond planting one on her and revealing surprise romantic feeling that ultimately can't go anywhere would be a jarring, momentum killing story turn when the season is meant to be about a "collision course" between Galadriel and Sauron in the finale. If it happens in ep 7 as they're insisting, then the audience is suddenly confused and wondering what that was about instead of focused on the suspense building to Galadriel and Sauron's meeting.

Also notably, they never paired up Rob and Morfydd for the press tour, despite how much screen time Elrond and Galadriel shared this season.

(I truly think this wouldn't even be a conversation if the incel lorebores didn't have a habit of badly interpreting scenes like the face touch in the trailer)

oh nooo, don't feed my delusions even more, they will grow! (please do feed my delusions)

his reaction to the numenoreans joking that maybe one of them is more suitable for gal needs to be talked about more! bc it was the first and only time his mask slipped off and he was about to lose it! bro saw her ankle on that raft and it was jover! suddenly, a mere suggestion that she might in theory be with smn else made this ancient being skilled in deceit almost reveal his true nature! like, when i saw his reaction for the first time, i thought it was so weird and uncharacteristic! then he beat those same dudes to a pulp!

sooo, what i'm trying to say is that, if sauron were to see his warrior queen caged and then kissed by the orc that they both blame their misfortunes on, ohhh boy. it'd be jover for the middle-earth.

and listen, so far the writers haven't given me a single reason to doubt them. even if galadriel is married to celeborn, a sudden switch to their romance would be a poor writing, since the show was about sauron x galadriel relationship from the very start (literally, finrod's speech alluded to it and then celebrimnor's one about silmarils)! same goes with elrond.

also, the whole "the light reflecting your hair reminded me of the love of my life who is lady galadriel, of course" thing was so bold??? i can't believe they did that. so, i'm 90% sure they aren't chickening out after pulling something so sick and obsessive on his part.

so yeah, either it has to do with sauron, or it's a platonic peck that was overblown by the fandom.

and agreed, we wouldn't be wasting our energies on the half of the discourse happening rn if it wasn't for the incel lorebros forcing these conversations to divert the attention from sauron x galadriel.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Hello!

New to the fandom and your posts have been lovely to read! I don't know if it's been done already, but, may I request the TF2 mercs' reactions to having a nightmare? Like, frequency, how they cope with them, how they handle them when they happen?

The TF2 Mercs Reactions to A Nightmare!

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Anon, you are making me sob. Welcome to the fandom. You'll never be able to leave. But I haven't done this prompt before, so I'm glad to do it now! Uh, angsty as hell and a small spydad mention.

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Demo wakes up drenched in sweat. He's had nightmares before, but he doesn't really dream. Dreams are a rarity. Nightmares aren't too common either happening, maybe twice a month. He hasn't found a way to handle them. Drinking booze like water helps temporarily, but so does going back to sleep because if he falls back asleep, then he doesn't have to reflect on what his nightmares might mean. He'll probably end up staring at the wall for a while before going back to sleep. Hoping his brain will forget it by morning. It doesn't. He doesn't know how to cope.

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Engie is just tired. He usually buries himself in work so he doesn't have to sleep. Nightmares are a regular occurrence. He doesn't know when they started, or even what they're about half the time. He wakes up with a deep feeling of dread and fear, but he doesn't know why. He can't remember them, so it's weird they have such a hold on him. He'll normally just get up and start his day at that point regardless of its 2am or 7am, trying to distract himself in any way he can. He uses work to cope, tinkering away at some new projects he pulled out of thin air.

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Heavy just sighs, rolling over to go back to sleep. He has nightmares very rarely, and none are particularly scary, mainly sad. Occasionally, he'll cry if the nightmare is about something that's too real to him. He doesn't feel the need to react, to cope, to do anything other than let the haze of sleep overtake him again. He likes to think he forgets about the pain his nightmares cause him, but memories of them creep in during the day sometimes. He does check in the mornings that everything is okay and everyone is alright as a sort of coping mechanism.

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Medic wakes up crying, well, sobbing. He puts up a good front during the day. Not letting the mix of past traumas and present traumatizing events get to him while he works. But oh boy, is this man riddle with nightmares. He almost thinks it's a punishment of some kind. He can't remember the last time he slept soundly. He'll spring out of bed, wiping the tears from his face and grabbing his glasses, much like Engie he's ready to just start the day, but he hears soft cooing and the flap of wings. Archimedes lands softly on his shoulder, demanding affection from him and immediately distracting him from whatever spiral he's currently in, and sits with him until Medic is subtly convinced by the birds insistence of moving him to the bed to go back to sleep. Always staying in his line of sight while the ex doctor sleeps, making sure his friend is okay

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Scout is terrified. Like petrified in fear. He won't move from his bed. He doesn't have nightmares too often, but when he does, they hit him like a train. He just wants to sleep and not be plauged by bad thoughts. He tried to reassure himself that it's all just a dream, all in his head, and most of the time, it works. When it doesn't, however, he thinks about how his mom used to comfort him when he was younger, or just thinking of his mom or his childhood in general, it gives him a safe feeling. He might even find himself calling his mom after just to make sure she's okay.

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Snipers eyes open with a sigh as he stares at the ceiling. He's pissed. He's always tired because of this shit. Nightmares are a common occurrence, not as common as Medic's, but still frequent enough to interfere with his sleep schedule. They're stressed induced, and he can't ever find a way to stop them. He's tried drinking, smoking, he even asked Medic for advice, only to be told that, "If I had a cure, everyone would know about it by now." So he just lays there in hatred for his brain, a brain that cursed him with horrible dreams. Sometimes, though, if you catch him on one of his better days, he'll open up just enough for someone to maybe offer up some advice.

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Spy only lets a few tears out as he drapes a hand over his face to cover his eyes. His nightmares are more like regret filled dreams, he has them quite a bit, the frequency increasing after Scout joined the other mercs. He lets himself feel sad for only a few seconds before a guilt washes over him, making him feel as if he has no right to feel upset. He might light a cigarette cope. Smoking is the least likely thing to help, but hey, it's an excuse to go outside. He'll never address any of the guilt, shame, or fear feels from his nightmares. He just buries it. Never learning to cope and never feeling like he deserves it.

————————————————————

Soldier is used to it. Nothing really phases him anymore. Not the real world, not the nightmares, nothing. He just goes back to sleep, silently hoping that he doesn't slip back into the nightmares, but he does. He has them at the same frequency as Medic, but is granted no support. He does find comfort once when he finally opens up about them to Medic. Medic and him discussing nightmares between the both of them. He's not one to do this often, though, finding that he doesn't need to cope as long as he pushes down the reoccurring thoughts of his nightmares. He's sure he'll be just fine.

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Pyro is hyperventilating, crying, and just a mess. They don't have nightmares often at all, maybe once a year, their mind always being able to protect them from it somehow, but when the nightmare comes its bad. Enough to probably actually traumatize Pyro on some level. Crying helps them in the moment, being a way for them to let their emotions out quickly, but after that, they need comfort, turning to whatever friends (mostly Medic or Engie) who could help them. Both are more than happy to comfort Pyro in their time of need, helping them forget about the dream until next time.

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Hot take! These fuckers cry, a lot. Men can cry and still be strong and manly, especially traumatized men. I want to give them hugs :,) I hope this makes sense and follows the prompt bc i am so tired rn, but i had to get this out 😭Anyways, I hope you like this Anon! And again, welcome to the fandom. Enjoy your new life >:D

[sunnyupsidedown]

Tender

Word Count: 1873 [AO3]

Rating: Explicit

Summary: It was so different from their usual encounters. There was no opening remark to set the scene. No falling into a role to be a slightly different version of themselves.

A/N: Wrote this months ago and originally wasn't happy with it BUT I wrote something (in a different fandom) that I'm even less happy with so this doesn't feel so bad anymore lol. Time to release it to the wild. Written because I craved something tender between Jack & Alan.

It was always eerie to be in his house when no one else was around. It wasn’t exactly silent with the creaking of the wood and the thin walls letting every noise imaginable filter in from the street, but without the constant chatter of children, the sounds of cooking in the kitchen, and the general hum of life, it might as well have been a graveyard.

The weeks he sent his family to the seaside while he stayed back to work was only worth it because it gave his family a time to forget the situation they were struggling through. Emily and Tom still brought up stories of chasing gulls and collecting shells and every repetition brought a smile to Alan’s face.

This time his family was packed up and sent to Cheetham Hall. He would be joining them in a few days time after he took care of an important deadline. Alan didn’t know if it was better or worse that he wouldn’t be there to see his family meet Lady Cheetham.

In the meantime, Alan would stay with Jack once Alan picked up the list of items his family forgot to pack but remembered as they were about the hop on the train. With the items quickly located and stored in a bag by the front door, Alan and Jack stood in Alan’s attic bedroom with Jack leaning on the wall by the door and Alan digging though his desk to find his newest draft. It wasn’t quite evening yet with the sun’s golden rays illuminating the dust motes floating in the air.

“We could stay here for the night,” Jack broke the silence.

“No.” Alan’s reply was instant as he continued to page through some of the papers in a side drawer. Alan felt the heat of Jack’s body as he crowded up behind him.

“You’ve slept at my place, let me sleep here,” Jack tried again.

“Well you’re fucking rich. Still no.” Alan sniped back.

“It would be quite a novel experience.” Jack snaked an arm around Alan’s waist and bent to tuck his chin on his shoulder.

“Oh fuck right off!”

“When will it ever be just the two of us here again?” Jack continued unphased.

Alan turned in the embrace and took in Jack. The juxtaposition between Jack and the hovel of his room raged a war in his mind. Jack stood tall and at ease with entire worlds in his ice blue eyes. They suddenly flicked to the side and a smile quirked his lips.

“Oh, what’s this?” Jack asked, sliding a hand from Alan’s waist to an item in his desk drawer.

Alan could feel his face heat with the sight of Jack’s handkerchief between them, but the truth came out of his mouth when he opened it just to see what Jack would do. “Writing inspiration. What else could it be?”

He wasn’t disappointed when one of Jack’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes darken deeply. Jack stepped closer with a question in the way his eyes dropped to his mouth and it was like their lips were magnets. Jack true north and to Alan’s south. Alan shifted up on his toes, tilted his head, and wrapped a hand around the back of Jack’s neck, helpless to the pull.

A hand slipped around his thighs and then he was sitting on his desk. The strain in his neck relieved and the angle changed to something deeper, dirtier.

Alan was at a precipice. If this went on any longer, if he did not stop what was happening, his only haven would no longer be his alone. It would forever hold the memory of this moment with Jack. Jack was a large man with even a larger presence. Alan thought back to the first time Jack was in this room and the uncertainty of the future. If Jack didn’t survive… If Alan didn’t survive... If Jack grew tired of him after the danger was gone and tossed him aside like an old newspaper, then he would be left with no space untainted by the memory of Jack. No refuge. Jack blurred the boundaries of easy fantasy and cruel reality.

But now, months later, Jack was here with him in the room again. Alan slept over at Jack’s at least twice a week but saw him almost everyday: for lunch, for dinner, for tea, for a walk, at the Blyth’s while Spinet was rebuilding. Bella won’t stop smirking during family meals when he can’t seem to keep Jack off his tongue. There was a certain room at the Hawthorn residence that Alan refused to call his. He doesn’t even sleep there but it holds a few suits that have been forced onto him and a desk with a few favored notebooks and pens.

His attic room was no different with traces of Jack creeping in with the handkerchief, a borrowed pen, a smooth rock from Cheetham Hall.

Jack pulled back but stayed close with his forehead leaning on his. “Have I ever told you…” The rumble of his voice, thick with desire, sent a shiver down Alan’s spine. “...that I didn’t have a favorite color until I saw how light reflects from your eyes?”

And suddenly the decision was made. He was falling from the cliff, hurling himself from the edge to reach the man in front of him.

Alan brought their lips together again briefly before pushing Jack back. Alan’s chest heaved. “I want to feel your skin pressed against mine.”

Getting undressed was easier for Alan. His ensemble had less layers, less fiddly pieces. He finished and watched a shirtless Jack start on his pants. Even naked, he could see the wealth in Jack from the full flesh on his body and the shine of his hair. But with the backdrop of the tiny attic room and without the outside wrappings of a lord, it was easier to see Jack as the sum of his actions. Almost like they were equals in society.

Jack stepped out of his drawers and Alan was there, running his hands through the soft hair on Jack’s chest, absorbing the heat of his body. Alan pushed Jack two steps back to the edge of the bed. Jack got the hint and sat with Alan falling into his lap with a kiss.

Alan’s hands roamed the broad expanse of Jack’s back, lightly running his nails up and down. His fingers slowly made their way up into Jack’s hair and pulled. He could feel Jack’s prick jump against his own and a moan escaped him. Alan kissed down Jack’s throat and bit on the soft spot at the base of his neck. The desire to consume everything that was Jack Alston overwhelming.

Jack suddenly lifted and laid Alan down on the bed. A quick rummage in his still open desk drawer had Jack tossing a jar of lotion on the bed and then his mouth was on Alan’s body consuming him in return with a whispered, “You’re going to drive me mad.”

Jack started at his lips, then the soft skin under his chin, his neck, his collarbones, each nip at his nipples pulled a gasp from his throat. Jack kissed the spot under his last ribs almost ticklish with its lightness before he’s between his legs biting the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

“Don’t choke this time,” Alan managed to get out and he’s rewarded with a pinch to his thigh that makes the molten core of his being burn hotter.

Jack wasn’t necessarily good, not that Alan had much hands-on experience in either direction, but the fact that it was John Frederick Charles Alston groaning around his prick in his mouth made up for all of it.

Alan’s entire body trembled when a slick hand slid between his cheeks. Jack sucked hard and pushed a finger in and Alan couldn’t stop the near shout from leaving his body. Jack continued to gently open him up. So, so gentle it was almost too much. Alan had to pull Jack up into a kiss.

It was so different from their usual encounters. There was no opening remark to set the scene. No falling into a role to be a slightly different version of themselves. Right now, kissing in Alan’s small attic room striped bare, they were Alanzo and Jack. No lords, no journalists, just two men.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

Jack lined up and pushed into Alan with a grunt in one smooth stroke. They stayed there breathing, staring straight at each other. Jack had his arms bracketed around the sides of Alan’s head, his hair mused from Alan’s fingers. A red blush bloomed on his cheeks, down his neck, on his chest. His eyes soft and open with a tenderness that made Alan want to weep. And maybe he did because Jack ran the pads of his thumbs under his eyes and dropped a soft kiss to his forehead, to his nose, to his lips and lingered.

Alan hooked an ankle around Jack’s back to let him know he’s ready and Jack moved like there was all the time in the world. Each stroke a slow eternity driving Alan closer and closer to insanity. Jack shifted and the angle changed and the pace was suddenly unbearable.

Alan used his legs again to nudge and Jack moved up and around to hold Alan in his lap again, giving him all control. With Jack’s hands on his hips to steady him, Alan moved faster, though not by much, like anything faster would break the moment building between them.

A hand found its way to him and softly stroked in time with their movement. Jack sighed his name into his mouth and Alan was unmade with Jack releasing in him a few moments later.

Alan came to with his arms hooked around Jack’s shoulders and breathing into the hollow of his neck. They shifted again together. Careful so Jack didn’t slip out because Jack knew that Alan liked the feeling. Alan moved to kiss Jack deeply in return because that was what Jack liked. It was startling to realize the language they have created together. A type of cradlespeak built from their time together. A mingling of them so that a light pull of his hair has Alan leaning in closer and a nip at his lips has Jack running his hands in slow circles on Alan’s back.

They stayed curled into each other until the late afternoon sun faded into the oranges of evening. Jack breathed softly in sleep, a hand resting on Alan’s chest. He would wake him soon because there was still no way he would let Jack sleep overnight in his cramped bed. He himself didn’t want to sleep in his cramped bed with Jack taking up most of it.

Now in the haze of evening, Alan couldn’t remember why Jack’s mere presence in his haven was such an ordeal. It was always going to be a losing battle. He was already ruined the moment he laid eyes on him on that boat. The gravitational pull between them was too strong. Too heady. And he was in so deep that no matter what, he would be obliterated.

[chlorine-tangerine]

Samba Da Volta (First Look)

I may not have a full fic for you this year, but I have part of a fic! That’s gotta be something. This is an excerpt from a story I’ve been writing called Samba da Volta (Samba of Return). Even though this isn’t the full thing, I still wanted to share it with the fandom and get some initial reactions.

This story takes place in an alternate universe where Suzuki and Sugiki were in love in high school, but separated when Sugiki moved for university. Sugiki has now returned to his hometown for the summer and meets Suzuki again. You don't need much context other than that, so I hope you enjoy!

It is also available on AO3, but if you don't want to open the link, the text will be under the cut.

Happy 10 Dance Day!

(Excerpt from Samda Da Volta, chapter 2 - Samba E Amor (Samba and Love)

-

Back in the present, the scenes of Sugiki’s high school days were replayed as he browsed through the aisles of the convenience store. The location and layout were the same, even down to the benches and tables outside, just that the store changed names. Of course, Sugiki didn’t expect there to be no change over almost a decade, but it was a peculiar feeling to come back to something that no longer existed in its original state. The same went for Suzuki-kun; he still hadn’t figured out how to face this man whom he knew so much yet so little about at the same time. They severed their bond many years ago, but never completely. They never had a big dramatic breakup like other high school sweethearts. He’s certainly gotten more handsome as he aged… thought Sugiki, then shook his head to avoid that line of thinking. It was late, past 11 PM, and his mind was not to be trusted with emotional thinking at late hours. He sighed, and placed his small basket of snacks onto the checkout counter. Just as he was taking out his credit card, a hand got in the way.

“I’ll pay for him, Auntie. Ring these up for me too, won't you?” A cheerful voice to Sugiki’s right chimed in, dropping half a dozen pack of beer right next to Sugiki’s basket. The cashier’s eyes brightened at the sight of him.

“Shinya! Haven’t seen you in a while, how are your sisters?” She said as she rang up the six-pack. “They’re good, noisy as ever. I heard your leg is all better now. Good for you!” That topic opened up a can of worms, and the middle-aged woman started a long story of her leg injury. Half-listening, Suzuki turned to the dark-haired man and gave him an innocent look with raised eyebrows and a half-smile, “Hey,” he said quietly.

Sugiki was not amused or charmed, evident by his sideward glance and thin mouth. The man in question wouldn’t know, but running into him right after thinking about his attractiveness was a little embarrassing for Sugiki, even at his age. “I’ll pay for myself, thank you very much.”

“Come on, have a drink with me. I can’t finish this all by myself.”

“Then you shouldn't have bought that much.” For a moment, it was as if they were picking up right where they left off the other night, teasing each other with no real meaning to it. Sugiki answered his own question from earlier; maybe this is how he should treat Suzuki-kun, try to be friends again, especially when he made it so easy. He stepped aside and allowed the blond man to pay, then went outside with the snacks and beverages as Suzuki finished up his conversation with the cashier.

Suzuki followed the dark-haired man with his eyes, then quickly came back to the cashier to bid her goodnight. As he stepped out into the humid air and pulled up a stool opposite Sugiki, he wondered: does he still remember this place? They met up here countless times after school, took turns treating each other to snacks, he had to remember. But a lot had happened over time, Suzuki only remembered because this place was so hard to avoid. Sugiki, quietly eating his cookies, sat facing the bench behind the store. He stared mindlessly at it, the memory of their first kiss so far away yet so close by. In fact, that memory was sitting less than half a meter away from him. When he turned to look at Suzuki, he was surprised to find him staring back.

“... Nothing. You have quite a sweet tooth,” the man gestured to the wafers and cookies (most of them chocolate-flavored) on the table and smoothly reached over for a can of beer. Sugiki got defensive about his choice of late-night snacks, “I was in the mood for it,” he said with a slight pout. Suzuki found it cute but thought it best to not tell him.

“What?”

He tried picking up the conversation and asked about the trip to the hospital. It was quite disheartening to get a one-sentence response, and soon they found themselves listening to the cicadas again. That topic ended pretty quickly, thought Suzuki as he ate some more of the snacks to keep himself looking busy. What were they supposed to talk about now? Their meeting last time ended awkwardly, and there was only so much to catch up on. Maybe it was a mistake to ask Sugiki to stay. Maybe he was still the self-confident teenager, scrambling to come up with words in front of Sugiki.

Out of nowhere, the dark-haired man spoke, “Hey, can I ask you something?” Suzuki shifted his body so that he was facing the table now. “Hm?”

“I don’t know if you remember, but I was being really petty to you the other day you came for dinner.”

“Oh, I don’t even remember that, you’re good.”

Sugiki shrugged, “Still, that wasn’t nice. But I mean it; it’s good to know she has someone… She always looked lonely to me.” After a few days of rumination, he realized that his mother was not a social person. While he had Suzuki to rely on after his father’s passing, he couldn’t recall who Sayaka turned to. All of a sudden, he sympathized with that loneliness, even if she had turned him away back then.

“You too,” Suzuki blurted out, catching him off guard. Sugiki rushed to defend himself, “Me? No, that’s only because I’m here. I’m not like this with friends.”

“I guess I wouldn’t know. It’s not like you have any other friends here.”

“How would you know? Maybe I do,” teased Sugiki, rejecting the label put on him. Suzuki took the retort at face value. Did he have other friends here? The ones he could think of had all moved out of town, as far as he knew. “Do you?” he shot Sugiki a doubting look. A playful smile crept onto his face, “...no,” leaving the two laughing quietly.

Suzuki stood up to tidy the table, “Well, if you’re not gonna be doing anything while you’re here, we might as well hang out more. Get dinner sometime.”

“I don’t know… I still have to work on my research even if I’m out of town.” The blond man scoffed at the answer and turned around. Sugiki’s bookishness never once stopped being annoying. “That can’t take up all your time.” Before Sugiki could come up with a witty comeback, he continued, “Stop being a nerd. I'm free after I get off Friday afternoon. Come to my house, I'll cook you something.”

Sugiki got up, eyes level with the other man; Suzuki’s lopsided smile took him back to a simpler time. It would be dishonest to refuse after all the persuasion.

“Alright, fine. Friday. You can text me your address later.” The two parted ways back to their homes. Sugiki hummed as he walked now that there was something to look forward to.

[rainstormies]

(19) what remains

title: what remains

fandom: warfare

word count: 1238

synopsis: an Iraqi med student is forced into a war she didn’t choose, and falls for the soldier who never meant to stay

The hallway outside Mina’s room was dim and quiet, the kind of quiet that felt too thin, like it might tear at any moment. 

Layla leaned her shoulder against the doorframe for a moment, bracing herself before pushing it open. 

Inside, the lights were low, and the soft hum of machines created a rhythmic white noise. The little girl lay under a rough hospital blanket, an oxygen mask strapped over her face, her chest rising and falling with effort. A nurse had cleaned the blood and grime from her small hands, and her wrists now bore soft bruises from where she’d been held down in panic. 

She looked impossibly small in the bed. Smaller than Layla remembered, smaller than she should be. 

Layla stepped closer, barely making a sound. Her legs ached. Her arms, too — tired from lifting, from pressure, from holding onto everyone else’s pain. 

“Mina,” she whispered, crouching down. “Hey, habibti.”

The girl didn’t wake, but her hand twitched slightly under the blanket. 

“You’re okay. You’re safe,” Layla murmured. Her own voice felt far away, like she was speaking through water. “You did so good.”

She smoothed the hair back from Mina’s face with trembling fingers. The child’s skin was warm again, not that awful waxy color it had been before. Still too pale, but not fading anymore. She would live. That much, at least, Layla had clawed back from whatever line had nearly been crossed. 

“You’re strong,” she said, resting her forehead against the side of the bed for a moment. “You’re so strong.”

She didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried in so long. 

Not when the explosion went off. 

Not when Sam started screaming. 

Not when she had knelt over Elliott’s torn-up legs with blood-soaked hands and had to decide who needed morphine first. 

Her body was simply too empty for tears. She’d passed through exhaustion and come out the other side — numb, like her limbs were full of lead. But still she moved. 

After a while, a nurse came in. He looked at Layla kindly, speaking in gentle Arabic. Layla nodded, stood, and gave Mina’s small hand one last squeeze. 

In the hallway again, everything felt colder. 

She wandered through the hospital corridors until she found the outer loading dock, a quiet concrete step facing the open lot. The air was cooler now, dusk coming on, the sky turning a bruised pink. She sat down slowly and pulled her knees to her chest. 

Her head ached. Her ribs ached. Even her skin felt tired. 

The door opened behind her, and a moment later she heard heavy footsteps. 

She didn’t look up as he came to sit beside her. He didn’t speak either, just dropped onto the step with a soft grunt, his rifle across his lap. 

She didn’t need to look up to know it was Ray. 

For a while, they just sat in silence. The soft clang of distant metal echoed from the lot. Somewhere, someone shouted orders in English. Another door slammed shut. 

Layla stared at the cracked pavement, at a patch of weeds growing through it. 

“I have a son,” Ray said finally. “He’s four.”

She blinked. The words felt sudden, like someone had tossed a rock into still water. 

“Michael,” he added. “My girlfriend named him. I wanted something simpler — Jack, maybe — but she said no, he needed a name that meant something.”

Layla turned slightly toward him, startled by the gentleness in his voice. It was the first time he’d sounded like someone who didn’t wear a gun for a living. 

“He looks like me,” Ray went on, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Unfortunately. Has my eyes. My attitude too, if I’m being honest. His teachers say he doesn’t like to share.”

Layla tried to picture it. Ray in a house somewhere, brushing dirt from a little boy’s knees, answering questions about dinosaurs or stars. 

She couldn't. 

“I thought I was gonna die in that street,” Ray said quietly. “When the IED hit, and Sam started screaming, and we couldn’t get Elliott out fast enough... I just knew it. Thought, this is it. I’m never going home.”

Layla didn’t respond right away. The ache in her throat returned like it had been waiting for this exact moment. 

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” she said finally. 

He gave a soft laugh. “Me too.”

But something in her tone made him glance over. And after a moment, he looked away again, as if he realized she didn’t mean it the way he thought. 

Because while she was glad Sam had lived, glad Mina had lived, a part of her was stuck thinking about the thousands who hadn’t. About the men who never got to say goodbye. About the women still searching ruins for their sons. About the fathers—

She stopped herself. 

Don’t. 

Her throat tightened, her chest locking with pressure. 

She thought about her own father. His rough hands. The way he used to hum tunelessly when he read. How he’d saved and saved to send her to Baghdad for school. How he’d been killed in a market that was supposed to be safe. 

“I waited for him all night,” she whispered. “When he didn’t come home. I thought... maybe he’d just gone to help someone else. Maybe he’d found shelter. But by morning...”

Ray didn’t say anything. 

“I hate that I hoped for so long,” she continued, her voice shaking now. “I hate that I still do sometimes.”

He looked over, face taut. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your sorry,” Layla said softly, though there was no heat in it. “I want it to not have happened. I want people to stop looking at us like we’re rubble they have to walk through.”

Ray didn’t speak again. But he didn’t leave either. 

A long silence passed. 

“I can’t imagine losing him,” he said eventually, his voice raw. “My son.”

Layla looked away, blinking hard. 

“Then try harder,” she said. 

The words weren’t cruel. Just true. 

Because he couldn’t understand, would never understand. The Americans didn’t understand how good they had it. How they had all come here voluntarily. Her father’s death wasn’t voluntary. He’d gone to the market to buy food. And he’d never returned. 

Outside, the tank engines rumbled faintly in the distance. Somewhere, a helicopter passed overhead. The world was still moving. Still burning. Still making widows and ghosts out of people. 

She pressed her hands to her face and breathed deep. She didn’t want to hate these men. Some of them had been kind. Some had helped. Sam... Sam had looked at her like she was more than a body in a war zone. 

But kindness didn’t erase what they were part of. 

Kindness didn’t bring back her father. 

And yet, here she was — sitting next to one of them, listening to him talk about his son. Listening to him be human. 

It was so much easier when they weren’t. 

After a while, she lowered her hands. Ray was still sitting beside her, quiet. 

The sun had nearly vanished behind the hospital now, the sky darkening into night. A few stars flickered overhead. 

Layla thought of her mother, her brother. Mina. 

The ones who were left. 

And she promised herself again that she’d protect them all. That she’d survive this too. 

Even if it meant listening to stories like Ray’s. Even if it meant holding both her grief and her fury in the same breath.

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 29

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,309

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: THE WOES OF PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE

The forest is quiet, making for what should be the perfect place to let thoughts wander without limit or distraction. These thoughts - no matter how dull - should only stray to the sound of a bird flapping its wings above or the distant rumbling of a car - Oh, and there's also soft crunching beneath every tig-covered footstep. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Loud to his ears, yet still too silent for anyone else to hear.

There's voices now - both mumbled, although somehow he can still make out the joy behind whatever words are being spoken. A door closes when the voices stop. Footsteps, which are much louder than his own seeing as they make no attempt to hide, skip over gravel, stopping only temporarily at the side of the rumbling car - its door is opened then closed - before moving around to the opposite side. One of the voices from before is humming a happy little tune that a side of him, buried deep, deep down, is tempted to sing along with.

Why is he here? He shouldn't be here. He needs to be here, but he also shouldn't. He wants to leave for some reason possibly relating to that same side of him that wanted to sing, although it doesn't really want to sing now. Currently, it's aching - crying maybe - and filling his heart with a foreign feeling he doesn't quite remember, yet has felt someplace before; he just wouldn't know where.

He feels truly sick - sick right down to his bones. He's never felt sick before or has he? If so, it's definitely been awhile. He feels sick pulling the trigger and he feels sick walking across the beautiful green lawn that has been religiously watered out front of a very fitting mansion. His own boots soon click across the same gravel driveway, approaching the rumbling car that speaks alone now, no longer accompanied by that happy little tune from before.

His hands are shaking now - no longer steady as he's always known them to be. There's an extra wetness to his eyes, too much for them to handle which results in them overflowing as he kneels down and hesitates to reach out.

The person who that sweet, joyful voice belonged to no longer makes a sound - not in words nor breath. She instead lies motionlessly, slumped with her back against the car and head hung forward limply. He has to carefully move her long brown hair aside to actually see her face, but when he does, it just makes this whole nightmare a million times worse.

Bucky could throw up at the sight of you sitting there, (e/c) eyes half lidded in a dull stare as thick blood drips down the front of your face in more rivers than one. The sight takes him by surprise, causing him to rip his hand away from your hair as he almost tumbles backwards in horror. A gurgled sound leaves his lips - something between a cry of fright and moan of heartbreak. It echoes even when he shoots up straight, sucking a deep breath into his lungs which suddenly feel like they haven't had air in ages.

Bucky heaves, his eyes quick to scan his surroundings to ensure he's still right where he had gone to sleep last night, lying on the floor of his apartment with a thin blanket and the TV on low, its screen giving light to the otherwise dark room.

He runs his hands through his hair then drag them over his face where they remain as he sobs into them. Being safe in his apartment gives him no comfort. Existing forty-nine years after that awful incident makes him feel no better. His anxiety makes the walls close in, suffocating him against his own thoughts and nightmares which apparently take turns torturing him day in and day out.

For a second, he actually glances around the floor for his phone, his mind jumping to the instant idea of calling you. If he does, regardless of the hour, you'll more than likely answer - that be it groggy since he would be waking you up at an ungodly hour, but you'd answer nevertheless. Knowing you, you'd question if he's okay, however you wouldn't dare go any further into the matter unless he's willing. You'd spare him the horror of having to discuss his nightmare and probably even be kind enough to avoid bringing up any mention of your last conversation...but he quickly gets rid of that thought; he refuses to call you.

Sleep is useless - he can't sleep so long as he keeps closing his eyes and seeing that haunting image of you slumped over with a bullet in your head like that. It's three am and his appointment is at nine...He should get up and get ready for it as much as he dreads doing so...

"Are your nightmares getting any worse?"

"I've noticed you've been particularly tense these last few sessions. Any reason as to why?"

"...How's (Y/n) doing?" This is the first question today that successfully gets a reaction from Bucky, causing him to visibly stiffen in his seat. If his therapist noticed, she doesn't comment on it, speaking while still gazing down at her empty notepad, "I haven't heard you mention their name in a while. Have you not been spending a lot of time together lately?"

"...No..."

"And why's that?"

Bucky presses his lips together, wanting to snap back that it's none of her business, but instead he says nothing, fearing that if he so much as refers to you in thought, he won't be able to stop himself from a flood of unwanted emotions. If he breaks here of all places, Dr. Raynor will never let it go, pressing further into the wound which he really doesn't need right now.

Unfortunately, despite his silence and like always, Dr. Raynor doesn't give up so easily, setting her notepad down on her lap and facing him with an unamused look, "It's important for mental health to retain healthy relationships, James. Humans need interaction with others - we're social animals, not to mention it helps to be able to lean on someone you trust in times of hardship, especially if they're someone you have history with compared to a stranger like myself.

"Based on the notes I've received on your time after HYDRA and what you've said yourself in our previous sessions - that be it very little - it seems to me that you're rather close with (Y/n) who has had a good influence on your recovery process. It might be beneficial for you to take advantage of that by discussing your concerns with them if you haven't already. It doesn't have to be your whole life story or any of the nitty-gritty details, you can just start out small if you want. Sometimes it can help to simply let someone know when you're feeling down. Doing so might even take some weight off of your shoulders, wouldn't you think?"

Bucky shakes his head bitterly, desperately wanting to point out that while you may have been close to him during those years following HYDRA, you have your own life now that doesn't need to revolve around his. You lost five years to the Blip, after all, and that doesn't count all the time you spent coddling him beforehand. If anything, it's long overdue for you to move on and start focusing on yourself. You're all only getting older here.

It's clear that, per usual, Bucky's silence is testing Dr. Raynor's patience, yet she fights the urge to roll her eyes by instead beginning to writing down a few things on her notepad, "I going to assign you new homework to complete sometime before for our next session -"

"- Great -" Unlike Dr. Raynor, Bucky has no shame in rolling his own eyes and slapping his hands against his lap as a show of his growing irritation towards this conversation.

"- I want you to write (Y/n) a letter. Same rules as I mentioned before. It doesn't have to be anything grand - doesn't even have to be given to them. Just focus on writing a mock letter addressed to them. In it, I want you to tell them about how you feel regarding their presence in your life -" Bucky scoffs, "- I want you to reflect on your relationship - both the good and bad - and how they may or may not have helped you throughout it. Feel free to add anything else you might want to get off your chest regarding them as well...Sounds simple enough, right?"

"Sounds like something they have you do in kindergarten," Bucky hisses mostly under his breath.

"Your other option is to answer those questions face-to-face to me," When Bucky grumbles and looks away to glare at the wall, Dr. Raynor knows she's gotten him in a corner.

She finishes writing on her notepad, her voice softer than last time as she puts her full attention on him, "Think of it as being similar to our goals in making amends. Even though (Y/n) is your friend, there could still be some things you might have left to tell them - perhaps even some tense feelings given how you apparently haven't been spending as much time together recently. Writing that sort of stuff out for your own review might be the first step to helping you short out whatever complicated feelings you may have while also being reminded of the good ones."

Bucky grumbles to himself, unable to tell if the store is out of his favorite coffee brand or if he's just too upset over his earlier therapy session to actually see it. His finger drags over each price label, at last finding the one he's looking for. Yep, they're completely out...

Sighing, he stands straight and gazes over the other brands, his eyes catching against a shelf of circle containers and small boxes that are definitely not coffee and thus not what he's come here for, yet he still finds himself reaching out to take one of the boxes in hand. Hot chocolate with those little miniature marshmallows combined...

"No, no! Those are a waste. The marshmallows melt within seconds - you can't even taste them! Get the normal kind here!"

"But you said you wanted marshmallows?" Bucky points out in confusion, not fighting you as you quickly rip the blue box out of his hands and confidently replace it with a red one instead, one that comes with no miniature marshmallows.

"I do, but it's a waaay better investment to buy normal hot chocolate and a bag of little marshmallows than hot chocolate with little marshmallows. They last longer and, the best part -" You nudge his side with your elbow, a smirk playing on your face as you tap your temple, "- We get some left over to snack on. Work smarter not harder, Barnes."

Bucky frowns, dropping the box into his handbasket before heading up front, grabbing a bag of tiny marshmallows along the way. He hurries through self-checkout, hoping his detour shopping trip won't trap him in the afternoon rush, although that might be wishful thinking considering the streets already seem busier now than when he first arrived.

No matter. Bucky takes his typical route home, one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other keeping hold of his single grocery bag. His stomach rumbles at the smell of something good, reminding him that he foolishly decided to skip breakfast despite being up for hours today. There was once a time when he would curiously wonder which business the scent was coming from, but a trained veteran by now, he has learned it belongs to the overly fancy café that is always overflowing with 'hipsters', according to Yori who once took this walk with him.

While not a fan of the number of coffee shops this city has nor the expensive price tags attached to each, Bucky must admit their baked goods at least smell somewhat worth the pretty penny. It likely wouldn't be a far off guess to assume they make their own fresh each morning, teasing all joggers who are fighting to maintain their diets.

Awfully hungry, Bucky considers the idea of going inside for a quick lunch himself, especially when noticing that it doesn't seem too insanely busy upon closer inspection. All of the tables may be occupied (not that they ever have many to begin with), but at least the line doesn't appear long when he gains a quick peek inside as a couple exits through the door.

"I think I liked this place better than the last," You slip out of the restaurant door Bucky sweetly holds open for you, only taking a few steps before waiting for him to follow.

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles, wasting no time offering his arm for you to link yours around, letting him lead you home like the gentleman he is.

"Mmm. Considering the corners of my sandwich weren't burnt to a crisp? Definitely!" You giggle before leaning your head against his chest and humming in delight, "...We should do this more often."

"We will," He whispers back, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Once this war is over and we get married, there'll be nothin' keeping me from taking you out to places like this every night."

"Date night every night, hmm? With you no less?" You stand straight and pretend to give it some thought before snuggling back up to him dramatically, both of you laughing, "Why, that sounds like a dream come true!"

Bucky steps aside quickly, apologizing under his breath to the couple he hadn't realized he was blocking the way of. They both give him a judgmental glance before going on their merry way while locked arm-in-arm. Once they’re gone, he hesitates, almost reaching for the door handle, yet ultimately turning around and continuing his way down the sidewalk. He can always make himself a sandwich at home for far cheaper than what this café would charge anyway.

Walking past the café windows, Bucky still glances inside, confirming that it is indeed lacking any available seats which he convinces himself is all the more reason to just eat at home instead. It's probably pretty noisy in there with all those friends and couples chatting, making for an unpleasant atmosphere compared to what he'd prefer...Quiet, with plenty of space to breathe and think, able to focus on what he wants to...

"Getting worn out from all this socialization?"

"No -" Bucky presses his lips into a thin line, refusing to look away from the window despite there being really nothing of interest out there. He then decides to change his answer and be truthful in a meek voice, "...A bit. I just..."

"It's fine. We can finish up here and get back to the apartment," You lean back in your own chair with crossed arms, giving him a kind and gentle smile that makes him want to forget about all of his anxieties. He's sure that's your goal, too, "You know, I'm proud of you. You've managed to let loose and be yourself within a public space. That's a big step in the right direction."

His lip twitches upwards at your compliment, although he's hesitant to actually accept it, soon lowering his head with a frown, "...This feels wrong..."

"What does?"

"Being out here with you...having a good time when I -...I don't think I -"

"- James Buchanan Barnes," It's amazing how quickly your voice can go from being so soft to stern all within the same conversation. You reach forward and, for a second, Bucky fears you’re going to try holding his hand, however you stop instead with yours laid against the table, your fingers close enough to brush his if you’d just scoot them over a tad, "You have every right to enjoy life. It's gonna feel weird and wrong at first, and it might for a while, but that's a part of the healing process, too. You just have to do your best to set aside those negative thoughts and trust in your own happiness."

Bucky shakes his head, turning heel swiftly and heading straight in the direction of his apartment, determined to make it there without any more stops or distractions. Luckily for the sake of his sanity, it isn’t a far walk from the café, the stairs up to his floor being the longest stretch, but he soon arrives, easily letting himself in then slamming the door a bit too loudly behind himself.

“I…I need to go.”

“O-Okay…Okay, um…I’ll, uh, I-I’ll just give you some sp-space then…”

Bucky runs a hand over his face, dipping his head back against the door and sighing heavily as he tries to push back the memory of how heartbroken you had looked in that moment. He’s seen you sad before, notably when he found you sobbing alone in a backroom after Tony’s funeral and those following months where you looked completely beaten down and depressed as if your whole world was a dull, suffocating blob. Bucky spent so much time trying to help you - to make you feel better since you were the last person who he believed could ever deserve such pain…then he became the one to bring that exact same pain back for you…

It’s for the best. You moved on from losing everyone else, so you’ll learn to move on from him, too. It’s not like he left you entirely alone. He’s sure you still maintain at least some decent contact with the other Avengers not to mention you have family. You’d call any of them if you were truly lonely, maybe go on a few dates like a normal person does after a break up. You weren’t even dating, for crying out loud. Seventy-eight years ago only matters because you keep holding onto it. Just let go and be happy.

“I’m so lucky to have you, James.”

Bucky drops his groceries on the counter, not bothering to put them away as he focuses on grabbing himself a beer from the fridge instead. He curses when he pops off the cap only for it to go flying across the room, bouncing a few times off the ground then sliding under his chair. Great.

Without much effort, he reaches under the chair and taps around blindly for the cap, his fingers brushing something else that he pulls out to view. A white bracelet with red and blue flowers, each having green stems…Your bracelet. He’s suddenly reminded that you were looking for it awhile back, rather upset to have lost it despite his promises to get you a new one. It must’ve fallen under the chair during one of your many visits. That was a few months ago, though. You probably don’t want it back at this point, right?

“Oh great! You found it!” Bucky turns his head just in time for you to kneel beside him and pluck the piece right out of his open hand. Your grin is wide as you look it over, confirming it’s indeed what you were missing, “God, you’re a lifesaver, Barnes! Howard and I have been looking all over for this!”

“Ah - Glad I could be of service?” He can’t help but chuckle in a slight daze as you peck his cheek before immediately standing and hurrying back across the lab, always so passionate about your work which you have every right to be considering your achievements.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you! I mean it!” You only spare one more glance back at him while smirking, “Maybe you should just consider never leaving my side again? It might do us both some good, don’t ya think?”

Bucky jolts out of his thoughts, needing a moment to realize his phone is ringing. He stands up, gripping the bracelet tightly in hand while fishing the device out of his pocket with the other. He’s not sure who he expected, although he isn’t exactly thrilled to see Sam’s name on the screen.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

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[circledemptiness]

Requiem

Chapter 2: Kyrie

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight) Pairing: Edward Nigma (The Riddler) x Reader ✦ Chapter index ✦ Read on AO3 – Older work (and it shows)

The staircase reeks of trash, humidity, piss and fuck knows what else. The walls are filthy and damaged, from what you can distinguish through the dim light anyway. God, you hate this building, hate your crappy apartment, but this was the best you could afford in your situation, working a miserable job that barely paid the bills, until it didn’t. You lost your job some time ago, and couldn’t find anything else ever since. It affected you, deeper than you’d care to admit, as you let yourself rot in your creaking bed, hoping for the world to burn or at least stop spinning, ignoring the unpaid bills piling on the table, or the landlord barking through your door.

The rusted mailbox was now a symbol of distress for you, its belly filled with bad news, and today was no exception; a letter, formal, serious, burning through your fingers. Opening it was worse, two cursed words drilling a pit of anxiety in your core; eviction notice . You groan loudly in the hallway, looking at the dirty ceiling, wondering where you did wrong with your life, cursing under your breath. You had two weeks to leave your place.

In the never ending tunnel of bad news, a faint light motivated you: you might have found yourself a new job, working for the Riddler. He asked you to come back tonight, told you he had a task for you, most probably a test, you figured. You couldn’t fuck it up either way. The atmosphere at your place was heavy, so heavy you couldn’t breath. Carelessly throwing today’s mail on the table, you dressed up and left your apartment, deciding you’d spend the day outside.

*

The moon is big and shiny in the sky, a milky orb watching you in the cold air biting your skin as you head towards the orphanage. The temperature is pleasant on your burning skin, soothing your pumping organ, anxiety and nervosity crawling under your skin. It’s quiet and dark when you reach the doors, a trembling hand pulling the handle. 

The area is still as intimidating as it was yesterday; you wonder if you’ll ever get used to it. Trying to remember the path you took last time, you carefully observe your surroundings, and this time your eyes are more curious, less panicked. There’s something beautiful in what the Riddler creates, offering you a glimpse of his most probably sick mind. He’s everywhere, in this pseudo sanctuary. Green marks and inventions in every corner, a mechanical stench floating around. Somewhere in here, hidden under the filth and the nightmarish achievements, there’s the last remains of his sanity, you’re sure of it.

You breathe heavily, absorbing his Creation, a tingle of admiration in your chest. None of the other criminals in Gotham could be capable of accomplishing what he’s done, you strongly believed that. You lose yourself in your thoughts, the now calm and deep heartbeat vibrating in your ears. 

A loud noise jerks you out of your daydreaming, the Riddler trying to get your attention. You stiffen, but can’t help but notice his subtle change of form; he looks cleaner, his shirt fully buttoned up, a pair of round glasses replaced his grime covered goggles. For a brief instant, a gut wrenching feeling burns behind your navel. He looks quite handsome, underneath all the filth . His eyes are brighter, his traits more delicate despite his tender wrinkles, his thin red lips look soft — The horrifying thoughts tint your cheeks a subtle carmine color. 

Edward Nigma is not amused at the way you absentmindedly look at him. Cocks a brow, scoffs.

“Well, I am pleasantly surprised you’re not late at least. You might not be completely incompetent after all” his words sting, but you didn’t expect anything less from him. Might have to get used to it. You nod and politely smile, he does not. He hands you a note, a list of materials of all sorts, some you’ve never heard before, mostly electronic parts. You start to panic, wondering where the fuck you will find those, but try your best not to show it.

“I need all of these by tomorrow night. Understood?” he states, voice sharp and threatening, pointing at the list that you now delicately hold between your fingers.

“Yes, Mr. Nigma. You can count on me” you answer confidently, maintaining eye contact. It seems to please him, a faint smile flashes on his face and— oh , he really is handsome. Your heart skips a beat, eyes glued on the curled line of his lips. You should probably move, but you can’t.

“ You can go now, pup ” he whispers mockingly, eyes wide with amusement and disdain, as if you were a complete moron. You jerk in embarrassment, bow your head and leave the building under the curious gaze of the Riddler.

*

The sun shyly followed the moon, birds chirping outside, welcoming the new day, as you wipe a string of drool from the corner of your mouth, rubbing a hand over your entire face, tired and sleepy. You haven’t closed an eye, spending the night Googling the elements on the list, desperately trying to figure out what they were and how to get them, especially on such short notice. You called a dozen repair shops, asking everywhere around you if someone knew anything about these components. They weren’t cheap either, you horrifyingly realized, wondering if you should have asked the Riddler for some money in advance, but you figured he’d repay you. He’d repay you, right?

Once your savings account completely drained, you sat on your bed, your entire body shaking in anguish. Flipping the dollar bills through your fingers, you choked a whimper, tears pricking your eyes; in your hands was all that you had left; if this didn’t work out, if working for the Riddler didn’t work out, you’d probably be on the streets, as good as dead. You didn’t have a plan B, this was the most insane bet you were willing to take. What the fuck are you doing with your life?

*

The rest of the day was spent running all around Gotham, meeting people to buy their electronic parts. Most of them were either shady resellers or obscure computer enthusiasts. Some of them looked at you suspiciously, furrowing their bow. “What d’you say you needed this for again?” You’d mutter an answer about building a project for the University of Gotham. They never looked convinced, and to be fair neither did you, but you still left their place with the prized possession in your hands, so the rest didn’t matter.

Ignoring your growling stomach, you finally reached home by the end of the afternoon, exhausted from the lack of sleep, hunger and stress. A warm shower was what you needed the most right now; soothing and comforting. The water rolling on your skin was a blessing, a caress after a draining day. When your legs struggled supporting your body, you cut the water and immediately buried yourself under the blankets, finally catching some well deserved sleep. Before closing your eyes, you thought of him one last time, the Riddler. 

Of course, money was your main concern for now, the reason why you met him in the first place, but for a reason still unclear to you, you didn’t want to disappoint him. His unexpected charisma and remarkable design were truly, sincerely thrilling, and you kind of wanted to show him what you were capable of; kind of a revenge on life itself.

*

The alarm on your phone drilled holes in your skull, or perhaps was it the heavy headache gnawing at you, making you dizzy and breathless. The bile in your empty stomach felt painfully burning, your body was sore, sweaty and exhausted, but you woke up nonetheless, getting ready to meet with the Riddler.

Carefully gathering everything you’ve collected through the day in your backpack, then making sure you were presentable, you left your apartment.

While the night was now almost pitch dark, it was still early enough to see people in the streets, celebrating a recent event, partying with friends, eating outside– living. You missed that life, going out, having a good time, not a worry on your mind —did that time ever exist? You couldn’t remember the last time you weren’t plagued by the anxiety of tomorrow, unsure of what would happen next. This is the curse of Gotham, most of the time it felt like there was no hope left, so people just did their best with what they had. Surviving, like it was the last day of their life.

The streets were filled with delicious smells of food, making you salivate, stomach twisting painfully. 

*

When you arrive at the orphanage, you’re greeted by a few men, intimidating as ever, carrying their guns in their hands, discussing something unclear to you. They get silent once you get closer to them, looking up and down at you. Only one offers you a smile, you remember him; he was the one who first brought you to the Riddler. There’s a warm feeling in your chest when you notice that he remembers you as well. Feels good to have a familiar face around. Name’s Randy, he will later tell you.

“He’s in the main room” he shouts at you, but there’s no violence in his voice. Reminds you of the soft hand he pressed against your back; comforting yet threatening nonetheless. You weakly nod at him, unsure of how long you will stand on your feet at this point, and try to remember the path. You get better at it, it seems.

As Randy promised, entering the main room you see him, standing in all his glory, inspecting a trap he’s been probably working on. The vision of his elegant frame shouldn’t make your heart race, but it does, and you hate it. He removes his gloves, running his calloused fingers against a metallic frame, testing its steadiness, the muscles in his forearms rolling, veins showing under his beaming skin. Your mouth hangs open slightly, taking in his glorious form, until he turns his head in your direction.

“You’re still dreaming, dear. Seems like a habit of yours” he mocks you gently, a cocky smile on his face, and it makes your stomach melt, a comfortable warmth building behind your navel, crawling on your face. His smile shouldn’t do that to you . You clear your throat, and remove your backpack from your shoulders.

“I got everything you needed, Mr. Nigma” you announce weakly, and you hate how your voice sounds right now, frail and fragile. Edward’s smile widens, as he extends a hand in your direction, motioning his fingers as a silent order, inviting you to come closer, and you comply, heart pounding.

Delicately, you put your bag on a table nearby and retrieve the items, carefully, slowly, laying them next to each other on the plane surface. Edward hums, satisfied, turns his body in your direction. He’s tall, taller than you, and there is a delicious warmth emanating from his body, makes you feel delirious, makes you feel a lot of things that you’re sure you shouldn’t feel.

Edward slips his hand in your hair, a delighted look on his face, and the sudden touch makes you jolt, a lightning of warmth piercing your entire body.

“Not bad, pup… Not bad at all! Keep proving yourself useful to me, and I might actually keep you!”

The way he caresses your scalp reminds you of the way one would pet a dog. His words, a condescending praise following by a mocking chuckle, feel dehumanizing, but the light in his absurdly green eyes makes your body temperature rise, and you hate how willingly you take his touch, hate how his praise makes your heart race, hate how much you like it when he calls you “pup”, hate how you press your thighs together, your stomach tensing, trying to suppress whatever you’re feeling to spread any further. Blood flushes your face slightly, a thin veil of lust on your eyes, and you wonder if he sees it. You hope he doesn’t .

Edward cocks his head to the side, tugs at your hair to keep your face still, the firm touch shooting a dagger behind your navel, and an amused grin flashes on his face when you choke a whimper behind your lips.

“ Oh…? ” he purrs softly, as if seeing something that you don’t, something that he likes . You look at him with hazy eyes and knitted brows, like your body was begging for something your mind didn’t approve of.

Edward relaxes his grip, his fingers running through your hair, behind your neck, then tracing the definition of your shoulder and collarbone. Your lips part slightly, a soft gasp when his fingers caress your throat delicately, watching it work as you swallow thickly. You shouldn’t feel these things, he’s the Riddler, a lunatic criminal. A moment of weakness, this is what it is, right? You’re exhausted, starving, and–

The pad of his thumb caresses your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine, heat blooming in your stomach. His eyes, emeralds glowing in the semi obscurity, are detailing your mouth for a brief instant, a dangerous smile on his face, until he lift them higher in a blink, now piercing your gaze, drilling directly into your soul, and his eye contact is so intimate, so intense, so heavy on you. There is expectation in his irises, burning like a fire. A silent order. Not a question. 

Parting your lips slightly, the Riddler then slowly enters your warm cavity with his thumb, his smile widdens, a quiet chuckle escaping his throat. Then, a pleased hum.

“So eager. So obedient. Aren’t we? ” he whispers, his calloused digit caressing your tongue. You close your mouth around it, and can’t help but salivate. His flesh is salty, probably from the sweat accumulated in his working gloves, paired with something else. Tastes of copper, oil. Ashes. You drink all of his flavors willingly, hungrily, you don’t even know why, sucking on his thumb like it’s the best thing that you ever tasted; and at this moment you’re almost sure it is. You don’t even comprehend what drives you to this man, why he attracts you like a magnet.

There’s not enough strength left in your legs, getting absurdly wobbly under the exhaustion and delirious state you are in. As if he could sense it, Edward removes his thumb in a mediocre wet noise, followed by a sad whimper –did it really come from your mouth? He cocks an amused brow, clears his throat.

“You can go now, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” His voice is back to his more natural tone; melodious, loud and clear. You nod silently, unsure of what just happened, still not completely convinced that this was not a fever dream. Collecting your backpack, you exit the premises, your tongue twisting in your mouth, as to collect more of his taste, more of his filth, his delicious filth that makes you dizzy and irrational. 

You didn’t even realize when you arrived home, fumbling in your pocket for the key to your apartment. Missing the keyhole. Twice. Body falling loudly on your bed, head spinning, cheeks burning, core trembling. You groan, feeling your cunt throbbing in your panties, surely drenched by now. Hate yourself for it. There is no logical explanation for what happened, just some base desire for Gotham’s most dangerous man, and this is… this is absurd .

Your phone vibrates once in your pocket, and you moan, contorting yourself to retrieve it. The harsh light of the screen is blinding you, and you squint your eyes, trying to decipher the notification displayed. It comes from your bank, stating that you’ve received a payment. You open your balance, and open wide eyes. Surely, you didn’t see it right, still half asleep, groggy by your eventful night. Sitting up, you rub your face frantically, check your balance again. No mistake here. Your heart is beating frantically in your chest, about to burst. You’ve never received that much money in a day, enough to cover the cost of the materials you got today at least four times. Probably enough to pay for your bills, eat decently for a while, and then some. You yell, from the top of your lungs, more excited than you’ve ever been in your entire life.

You couldn’t care less about the neighbors yelling back at you and banging against the paper thin walls, or the dogs barking, now fully awake from all the ruckus. You’re working for the Riddler .

[rayne-storm]

But Hold Me Tight and Fear Me Not

AUgust 1 - Dark Fantasy

Fandom: 10th Kingdom

Summary: Virginia x Wolf

Virginia, due to her father's gambling addiction, is promised to the king of a fae court. Wolf, for his part, is unsure of this arrangement.

A/N: I might do more with this in the future, but I like this as a jumping off point. Also, yes, I know that 10th Kingdom is, technically, already a Dark Fantasy. Oh well.

"Listen, Virginia, I know it's not ideal, but-"

"But nothing, Dad! You're saying you tried to sell me! Like, like some cheap hooker or something! Hell, did you even haggle, or was it a relief that anyone would pay anything for you to get rid of me?"

Virginia Lewis was furious. Tony, the man who claimed to be her father, was saying some extremely problematic shit. In his gambling addiction he'd lost a lot of money (nothing new), they couldn't afford this apartment any more (nothing new), but he'd found an ingenious way to save them (nothing new):

He sold Virginia (ALARMINGLY NEW).

Like an old car or some ugly chintz her grandmother would give her-

Grandmother.

She could go there.

Legally, she was an adult and there was no way in hell she'd just meekly obey whatever bullshit pedophile he'd sold her to (because no way did someone just try to outright buy an adult woman, right?). She could go stay at her grandmother's house and Tony could deal with his problems by himself.

He was still shouting something as she left, she was too angry and focused on leaving to hear it, slamming the door as she crossed it. Did it hit him? Hopefully.

She'd made it out of the apartment building and halfway to a park bench to call the old woman when someone in a brownish-grey robe appeared in front of her. Literally, out of thin air, and she walked right into them, crashing down hard, luckily not hitting her head on the ground.

"Ow, what the- are you okay?" She scrambled up to help them, but they hardly seemed phased, though they did take her hand as she overcorrected and stumbled forward.

"Virginia," the mysterious person said, voice soft but brooking no argument.

"Who's asking?" She asked, glaring, snatching her hand back. She rubbed her forehead, looking the stranger up and down.

"I am not asking, I am saying," they replied simply, shrugging their shoulders.

"Yeah? Cool. Sorry, but I need to go."

She moved to walk around them, but they followed her, blocking her way.

"Virginia, you have been sold to-" they began, but she whipped around, fist on their chest. She didn't strike them, but it was quite clear she meant business.

"No one. I don't know who the hell you are, or what bullshit my dad did, but I am not sold to anyone. Leave," she all but commanded, and shoved off, pulling out a flip-phone to call her grandmother.

The creepy stranger sighed, shaking their covered head, and followed behind. The robe's hood fell back to reveal and older man with piercing blue eyes and long, braided salt-and-pepper hair.

"Virginia," he began again, but she ignored it, walking faster.

Humans. Always so difficult. Though he remembered a time when he was so stubborn.

In front of her he appeared again, prepared this time to catch her before she fell, though she did scream something fierce.

"Forgive me, but it's not so simple," he said over her cursing him out and beating his chest.

"Let me go! Let me go right now or you're gonna regret it, asshole! Help! Hel-"

A hand on her head and a whispered spell sent her into a nice, compliant sleep.

As Rutger the Hunter made his way into the woods with the girl, he shook his head. Humans were always so stubborn, and this would certainly be far more than the council was prepared to deal with… but he quite liked her already.

-----

As the Hunter came in, bartered bride in tow, he tried to think of how this could end happily. The girl was a spitfire, and who would not take any kindlier to the situation now than she had earlier. Still, he could tell she would make an amazing queen, and an amazing bride for his king. His Majesty, King Wolfric Fenris Von Hood, was perceived often as cold and impassive, but the Hunter knew much better. The man had a heart as tender as a maiden’s, and could use someone like the girl to lean on.

The King, Wolf as he was known around the castle to the few that were close to him, watched quietly as the woman was set in a bed in the dedicated Queen’s Chambers. The Hunter bowed to him as he left, and Wolf entered quietly, to see the woman who’d been… purchased. To be his companion. He would help her escape, come the morning, but… he wanted to see her. To have at least a chance to dream of the maybes.

He remained a respectful distance away, but lit a candle to see her.

Oh.

She was beautiful. She had a boyish charm, some might say, but he only saw delicate, dainty, beautiful features. He felt his heart swell and then shatter. He had found his soulmate. And he could never have her. Not like this. No matter how much his heart sang that she was to be his mate for life. He hadn’t approved of the way she had come to his lands, and he couldn’t keep her in good conscience.

He wanted to leave. He needed to leave, before she woke up, and he saw her eyes, saw her fear and fury. As beautiful as it would be, most certainly, he didn’t know if he would survive that level of heartbreak.

But then her eyes opened, and for one brief, beautiful moment they saw each other, and he felt complete. But then, as he feared, she panicked.

“Who the hell are you? Where am I?!”

Ah, even her angry-fear was stunning. He fought down a soft coo of adoration, opting more to focus on calming his “bride.”

“Whoa, hey, sorry, I know this is frightening. I’m going to help you get out of here.”

That seemed to calm her down the slightest bit.

“It wasn’t a dream,” she gasped.

“No. I’m sorry. It seems… someone did some bartering on my behalf. It absolutely wasn’t my intention to… to trap some innocent maiden here like some kind of storybook monster,” he said, hanging his head.

Virginia, for her part, could almost see ears and a tail similarly lowered in shame, and through her anger and fear, felt pangs of… something. Against all of her best judgements, her heart seemed to trust this strange man in the room. Definitely more than she was ready to trust anyone else.

“What’s your name?” She demanded.

He looked up, tilting his head.

“...My friends call me Wolf. Just Wolf.” It’s all he felt he’d ever really amount to.

“Virginia,” she replied, sitting up carefully. A sudden dizziness proved that a bad idea, and the mysterious Wolf man caught her before she could keel over. Intriguingly, the action seemed to surprise him even more than her, and he quickly retreated.

“Sorry! Sorry, you probably don’t want some strange man touching you. I… I can get out of your hair while you sleep off the effects of Hunter’s spell, and then we’ll get you home,” he offered, standing.

She shook her head.

“No, no, please, I… I really would like not to be alone right now. This is… too much, honestly, but you seem like you won’t kill me or anything in my sleep. And I’ll feel better if I’ve got someone I can try to trust watching my back,” she said, rubbing her head. She stretched out under the very luxurious blankets, and decided that she’d get out of here, but might as well enjoy this creature comfort while she could.

Before she passed back out, she heard the softest little whimper, like a dog comforting their companion. It was sweet, and she felt a lot better going back under than she had coming up.

[delay33]

Titel: Shatter Me

Paring: Adam x Lucifer (NSFW)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

A Adamapple fanfiction:

Note:

This fanfiction is for Adults. TW: Angst, Trust Issues, Smut, Fights, Violence, Lucifer is Mortal, light dark romance, light Bondage.

This ff is also on Ao3.

Summary:

Adam should die. But the will to live let him beg. Not to God and not to the angels. Down deep on the hellish battlefields, the only one who heard him was Lucifer. With his own intentions, the ruler of hell granted him his request and pressed Adam into a deal he would not escape from, not even by dying.

Lucifer at least hoped that Adam didn´t find out, that this spell had made him more mortal, than the devil would have liked.

Especially as Alastor was just waiting for an oportunity to strike against Lucifer.

Is Adam his hope or his end?

Chapter one

Your Chains

A single tear ran down his cheek, mingling with the dirt of the earth. Lost before it was seen.

His heart felt the same way. With the last of his mind, he watched Lute return to heaven at Lucifer's urge.

Adam had liked her - of his own way.

10,000 years and he had not been able to build a relationship that went deeper than lust, after Eve. A hint of regret hung in the air as his breaths grew shallower, knowing he would never open his eyes again. With this realization came fear. He was ‘the’ Adam! - He couldn't just die like that! Couldn't he?

So alone - he had never wanted that.

And no matter who he thought of, they had all left him, because of Lucifer. Lilith who couldn't love him and Eve who had always compared him to the angel and never reached heaven. Damn it, she hadn't even wanted to be by his side when he was alive. Always mourned the garden until she died of a broken heart, because of the most shitty angel of all creation.

Lucifer, who had never wanted him either...

His thoughts faded with every memory his mind tried to grasp. Too weak to realize that the last thing he was looking into was the face of his greatest enemy.

Adam was already beginning to slip into the realm of the dead, when something snatched his soul back. 

"Do you really want to die like this? Do you think I could let you?" He knew the voice, but it sounded so far away that he couldn't catch it. He tried to shout as loudly as he could that he wanted to live. That he also wanted a second chance at happiness. No matter the price. Without knowing what he was conjuring up.

"Are you sure? With all the consequences? Yes?" the voice giggled wildly. "Very well, Adam. Then let's make a deal. But remember - this time you will be mine, with your body and soul! You won't be wiped out by the angelic weapon! This is your chance to make things better! Deal?”

Adam pulled himself up with a rattling breath.

Tense, he looked towards the darkness that lay over the room. His whole body itched and ached at the same time. The soft varnish offered no relief. Instinctively, his hand moved to his stomach. With his fingertips, he felt the bandages that covered almost his entire upper body. Adam's last hope, that this was all just a dream, shattered.

Desperately, he grabbed his hair and pulled it almost painfully. No, definitely not a dream. He thought to himself as he felt the massaging horns growing out of his head. Shit! He stood up hastily and fell to the ground with a loud thud. His legs were unable to do their job. He ignored the pain of his wound and tried to get to his feet again.

Tears of shame burned in his eyes when he didn't manage it. 

He lay there for a while, trying to turn his head, when the door to the room creaked and opened. A few candles began to light up and bathed the bedroom he was in in a dim, warm light. If only he could stand up, but his muscles were shaking like thin branches in the wind just from the effort. 

"Man, Adam, you really are a mess. Can you please lay still. I don't like it when you ruin my work." The sound of that one particular voice made Adam's heart skip a beat. "You bloody fucker! What have you done to me?" His own voice sounded broken and raspy, so that the words he had actually shouted were no more than a mumble.

"Mhm. Just woken up, huh? Yeah, a reawakening like that often affects the memory. It'll soon be over. Come up buddy." 

Adam felt Lucifer's slender hands touching his skin. His soft white skin stood in stark contrast to Adam's ash brown. The innocence that was not and would never be. Adam had thought those words before.

"Don't you touch me!" uncontrollably, the first human snapped. Tried to get away from the fallen creature. Whatever the devil was up to, he certainly hadn't dragged Adam here as an act of kindness.

Lucifer paused for a moment and sighed. "If you continue like this, you'll hurt yourself. Your wounds still need to close correctly." The blond reached for him again, but this time more forcefully. Without effort, he lifted the much taller man onto the edge of the bed. From a purely visual perspective, Lucifer was as fragile as a doll to him, barely reaching his breastbone. His appearance had taught him back in Eden that even the most beautiful things had bad things in them. He had never fallen for anything like that again.

"What do you want from me? Just leave me alone, you've already won. Or is that your fucking sadistic streak coming out of you, keeping me prisoner here. Heaven will be looking for me. You freaks can kiss my ass!" 

Slowly Lucifer straightened up as he spoke. "No one will be looking for you Adam and you're right where you need to be. In hell." He made a mirror appear in his hand. "I would have liked to teach you more gently, but we both know you won't listen to me. So take a look at yourself.”

Adam blinked at the grotesque figure. Black with dull golden irises, his own eyes gazed back at him. His skin was the color of ash-covered earth. Two ibex-like horns grew out of his dark hair, similar to the ones his mask had had. Only that these appeared to be a permanent part of his skull. At least his body was largely the same. Shapeless and fat. 

Lucifer was right that he has let his body go. A layer of fat had built up over the last few centuries over his musculature, shaped by combat training. Together with the hair on his chest, he looked more like half a bear. At least that's what Eve had always said back then. 

You're just as rough as one, can't you take Lucifer as an example? His touch is gentle and compassionate. And he's so beautiful! Lucifer knows what women want.

No, he didn't want that. He wanted that fucking voice to disappear again and he certainly didn't want to see himself without his mask. 

"What kind of fucking spell is that? You prick, what have you done to me. Let me go right now. Take that away!" Furious, he stood up and punched the mirror out of Lucifer's hand. The shattering of the glass echoed menacingly through the room.

The angel's patience shattered with him. "What have I done?" His eyes glowed red. With force, the smaller one yanked Adam forward by a chain. Previously invisible, it now glowed a bright red. Its end attached to the collar around Adam's neck. 

"You sold me your soul in exchange for your life, my dear. I gave you the breath of life and now you're mine. You're not going anywhere unless I set you free." Blank fear was reflected in the first man's eyes as he looked into those of his nemesis.

Lucifer threw him into the middle of the room, which turned into a hall of mirrors. It was as if Adam had landed in his worst nightmare. Adam was forcefully forced into a kneeling position. Lucifer fixed his jaw and painfully turned his face towards the mirror so that he could see his own back. The huge pentagram glowed ominously on his naked skin, just above his now tiny muddy brown wings that protruded from his skin at the level of his coccyx. He was a monster! Tortured, he closed his eyes, but the angel forced him to open it again.

"Look at it. My mark looks excellent on your flesh, don't you think? Adam." His name from Lucifer's mouth sounded like a cruel promise. Sharp claws scraped across the mark, sending shivers across his marrow. Pain drove tears into his eyes. 

"I saved you, and I'm the only one who can take that gift away from you." Lucifer's authority made his body vibrate in a way Adam didn't understand. 

He obeyed, even though he should resist, but something inside him wanted to submit to this hard hand. Enjoyed the attention she was giving him. Which he had never experienced before. Hot breath poured out of his mouth. In bursts, not sure if it was from pain or from the tugging in his center. No, this shit wouldn't make him horny. He wouldn't let Lucifer suffer this humiliation, he lied at himself.

"So you better be good and stop being so stoic. Accept that you're a demon from now on. You said yourself that hell is forever. And I'll make sure that never changes for you!" With a wicked grin, he released Adam, who suddenly found himself back on the bed. 

"Now stay in bed. I'll bring you your little snack in a minute." The blond warbled on his way to the door. 

Although he saw it coming, Adam flinched speechlessly when he heard the click of the door closing. He waited to see if Lucifer would lock it, but actually he was only making a fool of himself with the thought. What was the point? There was nowhere he could go. No one who wanted him and would expose himself to the danger of messing with the ruler of hell. 

For 10,000 years Adam had managed to avoid the man who had destroyed his life, only to end up as his pet.

There was a time when he had wondered why all this had happened to him. 

He had never received an answer and the only thing that seemed obvious to him was because Lucifer apparently could. But the fires would burn underwater before he would admit how hurt he was. 

Lucifer wanted to play? Good, it was going to be hell for them both until this man finally freed him.

The memories of what had happened mingled with old ones that he thought had faded, while he tried to suppress how much Lucifer's behavior had shaken and aroused him. It confused him completely.

He didn't even realize that the wetness running down his face were tears. Caused by the fact that he was alone with himself and his mind without any distraction, in the face of his greatest enemy to which he was at his mercy.

Lucifer

Lucifer swallowed hard when the door clicked closed after him. What the unholy hell had he done? Charlie had specifically instructed him to teach Adam about it slowly. Instead, his dark side had burst through. 

Hell - he couldn't deny having enjoyed Adam being at his mercy. Betrayed, he looked down at his semi-stiff hard-on. Too many times the asshole had rubbed under his nose that Lucifer couldn't touch a hair on his head. Oh, he was going to enjoy this change.

This man managed to drive him to the edge of his nerves. Adam hated him, for whatever fucking purpose. The reason he was with Lilith couldn't be everything. He'd had Eve. He always looked happy in heaven. Had everything he wanted. Acted like the ultimate asshole to everything and everyone. Lucifer hoped that now that Adam was here, he'd finally get the answer to his questions-why the once kind-hearted, bright man had changed so much that he wanted to hurt him every time they saw each other.

Was it necessary to exploit Adams new lack of position in this way?

But fuck, Adam always had something about him that didn't just incur Lucifer's wrath. Without the wide robe and that mocking mask, Adam was just as attractive as he had been in the garden, even if he had put on a few pounds. Adam was a ten foot tall guy who looked like he could fight a legion of demons with his bare hands and that was hot as shit. He remembered too well what else was extra big on this man. 

Lucifer shook his head and made his way to the kitchen. Unlike Charlie, he wasn't particularly good at cooking, but he could manage pancakes with apple slices.

This hopefully distracted him from the direction his mind was drifting in. They were a hindrance to his plan to show Adam his place in the universe. He had had to promise his daughter that after he had found Adam half dead.

"Dad," his daughter's words echoed, "Adam first lost Mom to you and then Eve, with who he lived on Earth for a thousand years. Maybe he just never got over the loss. The walls he has built up over the millennia prevent him from facing this fact. You two have known each other for so long, you should stand by him. After all, you are practically his owner. Be his patron and show him what is really important in life. Give him a sense of perspective for his life. Maybe it will help you heal too. Everyone deserves a second chance." 

So he had heard the begging for his life and given him the breath of life. With the help of the contract, he had managed to snatch the soul from Darkness and anchor it in hell. Now the first human soul was his and not even heaven was able to break the deal. 

Now he just had to teach his new pet some manners. He had done enough damage to deserve everyone's rage. No matter what Adam's reasons had been.

Next Parts:

Chapter Two

Chapter tree (later the day)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Daily Planet Classifieds

Fandom: DC Comics, Superfam, Young Justice 98, Titans

Summary: Laney Hausler is currently attending classes at Metropolis University when he sees a boy with his face in the library. At first, he thinks he's seeing things. Later, he starts to realize something strange is going on.

Conner Kent lives off-campus with his friends, but he sees a boy who eerily resembles him, and he hires a private investigator to look into the life of his doppelganger.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jonathan Lane Kent, Conner Kent, Eddie Bloomberg, Rose Wilson, Bart Allen, Cassie Sandsmark, Cissie King-Jones, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Meloni Thawne, Vic Sage, Slade Wilson

Relationships: Past KonBart, Clois

Additional Tags: Father-Son Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, No Powers AU, Found Family, Stalking, Family Secrets, No Powers AU, No Capes AU, Complicated Relationships, University AU, Roommates, Private Investigator, Twins, Multiple POV, First Person POV, Obsession, Psychological Drama, Complicated Relationships, Unrequited Love, Platonic Relationships

Chapter Two: Move-In Day (Conner's POV)

Pop insisted on carrying the heavy boxes. He was worried about me ever since the incident happened. That’s why I opted to go to college in the city. Pop had panic attacks most of my life because of it. Mom didn’t like to talk about it anymore. She used to be obsessed with putting up posters and telling me to look for someone resembling me… But it’d been fourteen years, and I’d almost forgotten his name. It was a strange memory. It freaked my parents out whenever I asked about it. So I didn’t ask at all. Pop went through his speech about strangers and sticking close to my friends. “Yeah, Pop. I know. I know,” I replied, “Listen, are you gonna be okay?”

“I’m a seven-minute drive from here, Conner… So, if you need me to come get you or you wanna come home and spend the night-.”

“Pop, I pushed this back for over two weeks now. I gotta move in before school starts,” I interrupted. He set the box down in Bart and I’s bedroom on my side of the room.

“Hi, Uncle Clark, want the rest of my lamb pasta?” Bart asked. Pop sat in a chair by Bart’s bed.

“Is it good?” Pop questioned. Bart pulled a fork out of thin air and shrugged. Pop twirled the pasta around his fork and scooped up peas and meat.

Pop made a soft noise, and Bart grinned. While Pop was distracted, I went to the car to get the last of my things. It was a box my parents packed for me as a surprise. I wasn’t supposed to open it until I got settled. It was heavier than I thought it’d be. I lugged it to the elevator, where I bumped into Cissie. “You’re actually moving in,” Cissie grinned. She always poked fun at me like the mean little sister I never had. “How’s Mr. Kent?”

“I thought he was gonna need a sedative on the way here, but Bart’s got him distracted for right now,” I replied. She let me in, and I set my box on the floor in the living room. She went to our room to hang out with Bart. I think they planned on watching a movie or something. “Jeez, Pop, that box weighs a ton!” I shouted.

“Don’t open it yet!” Pop shouted as he entered the room with Bart’s pasta.

“I won’t,” I answered. Pop sat on the couch and messed up my hair. It wasn’t something he did often. I think to him I was half ghost, half kid. So, he kept his distance physically. I never noticed it until that moment. His affection for me was always with words and actions. I couldn’t remember a time when he hugged me for the sake of hugging me. The last time he held me was when I was sick. That was two years ago, though. I savored any physical affection my Pop offered, and today was no different.

“I’ve gotta go soon, but I want you to take good care of yourself… This is your first night away from home, and-. Conner, give me a hug, okay?” Pop whispered. I hesitated. It finally sunk in for me that I’d left home. If I hugged him, he’d go home… And I wouldn’t be going home with him.

“Not yet, okay? Let me walk you to the Planet,” I replied, “I wanna say bye to Mom, too.”

Pop nodded, and we took the stairs. We were stalling for as much time as we could get. Mom sat outside like she’d been expecting us. She had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. “Mom, don’t-.” She stood up and embraced me.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Mom laughed as she hugged me. “Don’t open your box until after you’ve settled in… And by settled in, I mean make your bed at least.”

I nodded, and I hugged her once more. “Be good, okay?” Mom requested.

“I will, Mom,” I replied. She patted my arm and left Pop and me alone. He rubbed his arm awkwardly, and I smiled for him. He didn’t want to cry, but I knew it was coming. He pushed his glasses up and glanced over my head to avoid looking me in the eye. I wrapped my arms around him and shoved my face in his chest. “It’s gonna be weird, isn’t it?” I asked. He kissed the top of my head, and I could feel his tears hit my scalp. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll buy a taser.”

I wanted him to laugh more than anything. “I know you’ll still be close to home, but I’m going to miss coming home to you,” Pop mumbled.

“Well, we can do dinner at least twice a month… And when I’m not busy with school, I can drop by and do stuff around the house if you want,” I replied, “Also, thanks for being so cool about all this.”

“You’re a great kid… Your mom and I raised an amazing kid. You’re not perfect, but you’re honest and kind… And this will help you be more responsible,” Pop whispered as he pulled away and looked into my eyes. “You have to be responsible for yourself now. That means eating healthy without being reminded to save money and care for your health.”

“I will, Pop. I promise. Don’t worry about me,” I smiled, “I’m gonna be fine… I have to go because I have a thing at the school for Film majors. Also, they’re giving out free food for lunch,” I replied. Dad smiled.

“Is Bart going with you?” Dad asked.

“They’re giving out free food,” I replied. Dad laughed.

“Right… Right,” Dad replied, “Um… I’ve only said this five hundred times, but be good. Okay?”

“I will. Tell Mom that I love her! And I love you too!” I replied as I turned to run off. I met Bart halfway down the street from our apartment, and he playfully bumped into me.

“How’d Uncle Clark take it?” Bart asked. Bart and I grew up together. He was like me, except his twin didn’t vanish without a trace. They were identical the same way my brother and I were. That’s why he called my dad Uncle Clark. Bart was the only one of my friends other than Tim that knew about my twin.

I always thought it was my fault. I was only four years old when it happened. I remembered the day, but it’d been so long since I heard my brother’s name. We were sick, but I remember the strange fogginess of the hospital at nighttime with its dim fluorescent lights and constantly moving doctors. I thought I was dreaming, but I saw him between dreams. My fever dreams… The doctor. The man unhooked my brother from his IV, helped him out of bed, and I swear my twin waved at me. I had nightmares about it. The little boy with my face, waving as if he knew we’d never see each other again. I should’ve called for him. I should’ve cried… But I did nothing.

“Pop took things better than I thought he would. Mom didn’t stick around for long… I think she took it worse than Pop did,” I answered, “How’d your mom take it?”

“Not as bad as when Thad left after graduation… Funny. I cried more than she did once she left,” Bart laughed. That’s how I knew he missed her. He wouldn’t have admitted that to anybody. “Are you good? You look sick.”

“I’m fine… I-. Bart, don’t you miss Thad?” I asked.

“Thinking about twin stuff again?” Bart questioned. I nodded. “Are you having the nightmares again?”

“I never stopped having them,” I confessed. Bart frowned.

[vintagegeekculture]

Xicor: the Character Who Didn’t Exist (A Tale of the 90s Internet)

The most important and influential Dragon Ball Z character in recent times is a guy who never existed at all, and was created entirely by Western fans playing a garbled game of telephone in the early internet, where lies and insane rumors could flourish unquestioned. In 1999, everyone had “a friend in Japan” who told them the next great Dragon Ball villain in the upcoming series was going to be a silent, intimidating Ivan Drago-like albino bruiser named Xicor, who is half-Saiyan and half-god.

There is some precedent for this. In the 14th Century, a forged letter spread among the people of Europe. A powerful Asian Christian king, Prester John, who lived beyond the domain of the Turks, offered to aid the Christians of Europe against the Muslims. There obviously was no Prester John, he was a fictional person from a fictional country (and skeptical people probably should have guessed that from the fact his letter mentioned he owned a griffin and the Fountain of Youth), but the search for Prester John changed real world history, even though this guy never existed. If you like this story, read Umberto Eco’s Baudolino, my favorite novel about the beginning of the Renaissance. 

To understand where Xicor came from, you have to understand that, in 1999, the great currency of the internet were lies and tall tales about fannish entertainment. Every single website had a “News and Rumors” section that passed on absolute unverified lies that were sometimes pulled from thin air or made up on the spot. There were no official sites releasing news and casting on new release movies and television at all. You often only knew a show existed when you saw a trailer or, at best, if it got a prerelease pictorial in Starlog magazine. And because sites were in competition, a weird unsubstantiated rumor posted in one place was quickly posted everywhere else in no time flat.

To be clear, we were not that stupid. We absolutely took all of this with a grain of salt and an eyeroll. When a Nintendo fan site mentioned someone’s story about how they found a way to play as Luigi in Super Mario 64, the reaction by most was to roll their eyes. Nevertheless, we kept on reading the News and Rumors, because sometimes, once in a blue moon, something would turn out to be true. It was kind of like the technique of cold reading in that people remember the one time someone got a real scoop, and ignored the 12 times they passed on weird, false rumors, like the idea that Episode I was going to have an R-rated version when it was released on home video (I don’t have time to go into it, but ask any Star Wars fan around in the run up to the prequels who SuperShadow is).

In 1999, Dragon Ball was the biggest anime fandom and it wasn’t even particularly close, but the trouble is, the show finished in 1997 and there was no indication more was coming. It’s not clear and probably never will be who started it, but there were rumors that, in Japan, there was a new sequel to Dragon Ball called Dragon Ball AF (After Future). Since then, “AF” is hip slang meaning “extremely” (as in “Frank is strong af”) but nobody used AF that way in 1999, making this extra-funny with the passage of time. A single piece of fan art showing an evil albino Saiyan in Super-Saiyan 4 (his albinism showed this was Xicor, not Goku in some new transformation as was sometimes believed) was passed around as “proof” this series was coming. Nowadays, we know this is just fan art. But the fact that this fan art has an albino Saiyan foe and has the title Dragon Ball AF, tells us that the rumors existed first and this fan art was made later, and in a weird cycle, the fan art was later used as evidence of the rumors, and so on.

These rumors got crazier and crazier because there was no official denial of any of this, because nobody was really on the internet, nobody official kept tabs on fan communities. In 1999, the only people on the internet were nerds talking about Star Trek and anime.

The interesting thing about Dragon Ball AF is that the rumors stayed pretty consistent on what the storyline was going to be. In other words, everyone hallucinated the exact same fake show into existence. I guess everyone had the same “friend in Japan.” The opening of the series was always described like so. Years after GT, a pair of pods arrive on earth, and two beings emerge: one, a beautiful albino woman, and the other is a massive, intimidating silent albino bruiser named Xicor. The woman, we discover is a former Kai, and Xicor’s mother, who works as the brain to Xicor’s muscle.

Now we start to understand exactly who Xicor is. He’s a secret son of Goku and the Western Kai (who faked her own death), making him half Kai and half Saiyan, or a Super Saiyan God. He’s essentially Sloth from the Goonies, in that he is a massively powerful, mostly nonverbal, monstrous and deformed third son, commanded by an evil mother (Mama Fratelli), who can throw everyone around easily when he really gets mad. Goku’s two earlier kids are kind of like the two less effective, squabbling Fratelli kids, I suppose.  Instead of tearing off his shirt to become Superman when enraged, Xicor became an albino Super Saiyan 4.

If you’re a long-time DBZ fan, you’ve seen the DB AF hoax image of Xicor so many times that it probably makes you pissed to see it now. Every 5 years, a rumor starts up that someone is going to do Dragon Ball AF “for real” this time, and it’s wrong every time…or is it?

This should be where the story ends, right? A crazy rumor from the wild west days of the fan internet created by wishful thinking.  Alone, it would just be a story about how crazy the 90s internet was. But here’s the thing: the story didn’t end here, because that’s the thing about rumors. People wanted Dragon Ball AF to be real so badly they created dozens of fan comics about it. And because there were all these rumors that were weirdly consistent, a true oral tradition right out of pre-writing cultures (or like those filthy rhymes we all learned at summer camp that have no point of origin, like “I’m Popeye the Sailor Man, I live in a garbage can”), the details of Xicor (albino, red eyes, wears green and shoots green lasers, silent, half god, Goku’s third superpowerful evil son, bossed around by an evil mother) stayed the same. 

The story of Xicor didn’t end here, because a funny thing happened; the guys who were big fans in the 90s started to run the asylum. That is, fans started to be put in charge of Dragon Ball Z. One person who made DB AF fan comics (and the idea of a “fan comic” of which there is no original is very funny to me) was Toyotarou, a fan comic artist. He was asked to do creative for the video game Dragon Ball Xenoverse. And…who were the villains of Dragon Ball Xenoverse? Mira and Towa, a mother-son pair of evildoers where the mother is the brains, and the son is a silent Ivan Drago-like bruiser who was pure intimidation.

The following is a fan comic done in 2000 by Toyotaro,  the guy literally making Dragon Ball Super now:

By the way, in case you’re not convinced Mira and Towa were inspired by Xicor, here’s a look at Mira’s final, albino and beastlike form in Xenoverse 2: 

It gets better. Traces of Xicor, a character who never existed in canon, are everywhere all over the DBZ revival, Dragon Ball Super, which is essentially a canon Dragon Ball AF. It’s as if fan desire wished the series into existence.  When I first heard the title, Dragon Ball Super: Battle of the Gods, my immediate assumption was that they were making Xicor canon and the villain (side note, but my initial reaction on hearing the premise of Star Trek Nemesis back in the day is that Tasha’s daughter Sela was going to be the villain). And he wasn’t, but they canonized the existence of Super Saiyan God. In other words, the instant fans got the keys to canon, they made Xicor real. 

It gets better. In a later DBS arc, there is a villain who is made from both Goku and a Kai, Goku Black, who is tremendously powerful for that reason. I guess the reason they went with Black is because Goku White would have suggested Xicor a bit too much! (Also, I wonder if the humorous viral clip would have been funnier....or less funny....if they said “don’t shoot, he’s not white!”) Personally, I think Goku Black would  have been more intimidating if he didn’t speak, like the taciturn and laconic Xicor. 

Interestingly, all this is a case of everything coming full circle. As I’ve written before, Dragon Ball was inspired by Chinese martial arts novels and shows, and the most popular martial arts series from China in Japan the year Dragon Ball was created was Bastard Swordsman, which inspired the Super-Saiyan transformation...except it turns you albino-white.

I’m not sure how to end this neatly except to bring up one thing: remember when I said the most annoying and persistent 90s internet rumor was that Luigi was somehow in Super Mario 64? Well...astoundingly, last year, a dump of Nintendo files leaked, revealing that Luigi was designed for Super Mario 64 all along. Xicor became real in every way but name, and Luigi was in SM64. Even SuperShadow’s insane prediction about Star Wars sequels came true. It’s like...the 90s internet rumors were right about everything, you just had to wait a couple decades.