#i simply cannot be normal about them. i never will be

[jimpagne]

Or you could flip it on its head and say that you are acting like a cultist, stupid solo, or ignorant Army because you are refusing to accept that they are, indeed, together. They literally told us this yesterday in big loud letters to shut up those doubting them after the sightings. I really do not know what more these two have to do to make people like you see it, and it is incredibly disheartening, imagine how they feel. They are more devoted, committed and loving than any straight couple I know of personally, and they show us this time over. If you still chose to ignore it because YOU need to hear it in full from their own mouths, than that is on YOU, and again, makes you no different from the cult. How about you leave those who know, who see, respect and support them alone. Thanks

Someone severely lacks reading comprehension, I see.

Where in my post did I ever discredit their bond? All I said was to NOT ENGAGE WITH NOR SPREAD STALKER CONTENT and to be careful before spreading information because it could be potentially false.

I never said to truly write off eye witness accounts, but to do the rational thing and take them all with a grain of salt. Because do you know what taekookers do? They hear a rumor, run with the rumor, and won't let anyone else tell them otherwise. They ignore any other voice of reason, ignore when people in other spaces try to disprove something or provide better insight. They also consistently ignore what HAS been stated and vetted by saying "what this person said is lying", or "Jungkook and Taehyung can't be open about their relationship because they're being controlled by the company", or blah blah blah, whatever suits their narrative.

Do you want Jikookers to end up like that? Is that what you want? For us to have someone come online and say "I saw Jimin and Jungkook at [location] doing [blank]", having everyone spread and believe it without any HEALTHY doubts or any disclaimers, and then later having it proven to be untrue?

Am I saying majority Jikookers move like that? No. Absolutely not. I am saying that if we continue to endorse this behavior, the slope becomes a lot more slippery.

All I was doing was proposing safer techniques to deal with candid information like this, but you only saw me say "don't be like a cultist" and got triggered.

The fact is: Everything is speculative until directly proven otherwise. Theories are theories until fundamentally proven true. If you cannot recognize that, that's a dangerous way of thinking.

Like I said, at the end of the day Jikook being a couple in and of itself is still speculative. That is the cold, hard truth. That's not saying "they're not real" or "they could never happen", that's simply saying that we must respect the possibility of it not being true, and that we should create a somewhat respectful boundary between us and them before making theories and promoting them as 100% facts.

You can believe that they're real, but it's completely normal to hold doubts about something that hasn't been completely confirmed. One thing that is 100% real and 100% vetted is their mutual love and respect for one another as two people who have been friends for well over a decade. They endured some of the greatest hardships of their lives together, so anyone who says that they hate one another of course is completely delusional.

Though it is true that a lot of the claims that Jikookers make are often proven to be true later on, that doesn't mean that every theory made by a Jikooker by default is true. This is why it's important to be mindful.

If you don't understand that, that's entirely on you. If you want to endorse stalking or dangerous behavior by leaking their locations or their hotels, you go on right ahead. Just letting you know that it's scary and dangerous, and I wonder how you would feel if someone followed you around and constantly compromised your privacy to millions of people to get back at the people who 'doubted them'.

Being right at the expense of someone's personal life or security is not always the best. Spreading unvetted information without a disclaimer on the internet is still dangerous regardless of if you have no ill intent behind it.

Also, surprise suprise, I am a Jikooker. I am just one who tries to be mindful about information and sources before completely believing in it. A lot of Jikookers on my timeline were wary about the sources, not because they were antis or moving like taekookers who were desperate to disprove it, but because it's just the natural thing to be inquisitive about secondhand information.

I hope you reread my post and think a little more critically about it before jumping on me <3

[gemmafuckingscout]

adam scott and jen tullock have an 11 year age gap irl. now i'm not saying they will replicate this in the show but. this could potentially mean a full decade age gap between devon and gemma

[javierduffy]

“uh … it’s a bit girly … no?” javier examines himself in the reflection of his knife’s blade, looking this-a way and that, the dark blue of a large silken bow now peeking sheepishly around his neck as it sits gently in his hair. next to him, kieran clams up a smidge, hands still held close to his chest nearby his completed ribbon project on javier’s head. he finds it in himself to wring his hands a time or two rather than immediately undo his work as javier seems to continue to formulate his final opinion. “you … think so? look at me?” kieran asks, politely as a mouse. javier easily complies, turns at his hips and looks behind, up at kieran where he sits on the stump above him.

kieran, as he peers over, can’t help the meadow of flush that blooms over his neck, then his ears, then his nose and his cheeks. he can tell javier is deep in thought by the look on his face, mouth twisted just a might sideways, cocking his mustache awry, and the deep wrinkle sat between his brows. the ribbon he used matches javier’s vest perfectly, and the shine of the silk warms bright in the sun, just like every piece of jewelry and metal javier has adorned himself with. with this ribbon, javier’s hair sits lower on his head, ponytail draped down his nape and more hair framing his face in his bangs. kieran resists an urge to tuck one side back behind his ear.

kieran thinks that he looks like a painting, a muse, a love letter so heartbreakingly full of adoration that the only language it could be written in is bright swipes of pigment on a canvas. as he makes eye contact with the silk squinting around the red of a necktie, he thinks that javier may be right, if ‘girly��� could sum up ’poetry written in effeminate reverence’.

kieran always did think women made better art, wrote better books- found a better way to love. softer. warmer. prettier. like javier.

the world sounds like it’s underwater.

“i think … it’s very pretty. it suits you real well.”

earnest to a fault, the look in kieran’s eye dances gingerly with javier’s internal voice. it dips and sways him, and javier, despite his instinct, finds himself charmed by its rhythm.

“-b-but! i could take it out! if you don’t-“ javier looks down at himself in his knife again, the sunlight filtered through the leaves glinting a yellow green around his dark features, and kieran hands him patience on a silver platter. a rich blue makes friends with bright green quite easy, javier thinks. this is how he must look through kieran’s mossy lens.

“pretty … yes. you know, i think you may be right. i’ll keep it. gracias.”

[im-still-watching-anime]

me: hmm idk i don’t really need to preorder aa investigations i can probably wait until it comes out and i have a bit more spending money

aa: preordering gives you access to five (5) bonus tracks that you could probably just find on youtube anyway

me: so i’m preordering rn—

[jackass-jones]

Starfire teen titans my best friend Starfire id burn alive for you

[gu6chan]

i fucking hate american """left-wingers""" man

[tohruies]

a realisation that home was here. home was now. and it had been all along … 🥺💘

— ☆ 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒

alhaitham x ryu. this is obviously a selfship piece for ryuhaitham and it’s in first person. canon au. comfort. fluff. read here if you want more context on us. 0.7k wc

I sat curled on the couch with a blanket drawn tightly around me, staring at the modest decorations I’d strung up days ago when Alhaitham first left for Akademiya business. The lights, the strings of ribbon—they felt out of place here, like foreign embellishments in a world that had no meaning for them.

Christmas. Once upon a time, it had been everywhere—woven into every light, every note of music, every breath of winter air. It wasn’t as though I’d celebrated Christmas extravagantly but the absence of it here made the ache of displacement settle heavy in my chest. Even if I’d only half-participated in the holiday back then, its laughter and warmth had always been a comforting constant.

Teyvat moved without pause. The winds of Mondstadt whipped across snow-buried plains, Sumeru’s ever-shifting leaves played on the breeze and Liyue’s lanterns flickered against a fading sky. It was timeless and unchanging, as if the universe was indifferent to the celebration I longed for. But like the decorations I’d strung up, Christmas had no place here. And in that knowledge, my homesickness deepened, the distance between my old world and this one stretching farther.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and I startled, my gaze snapped to the figure entering. Alhaitham’s silhouette was outlined against the dim light of Teyvat’s evening and in his hand was a small neatly wrapped package, the paper a rich shade of crimson, tied with thin, silver silk that shimmered softly in the light.

“You’re back,” I mustered, rising slightly from my seat.

“I am,” His gaze swept over me, and a crease formed between his brows. “You look troubled.”

I offered a fragile smile, “Just thinking about… you know.” I trailed off, eyes drifting to the window where whimsy unbeknownst to me twinkled in the inky expanse above.

Without preamble, he extended the gift toward me. “Here.”

I blinked in surprise, looking from his hand to his face. “What’s this for?”

“Isn’t it customary to exchange gifts for… Christmas?”

The word fell from his lips tentatively, as though testing its weight. His eyes searched mine for any sign that he had mispronounced it. Then, a bittersweet ache unfurled in my chest.

“You… remembered?”

He remembered. Even in passing, even if I hadn’t explained it in detail, he had remembered. And more than that, he had acted on it.

“You mentioned it once,” he replied, the faintest hint of awkwardness colouring his tone. “I don’t fully understand the tradition, but it seemed important to you.” He paused, then added softly, “I thought it might remind you of home.”

My fingers brushed the wrapping paper, tracing its edges as a quiet laugh escaped me. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It matters to you. If it makes this place feel less foreign, then it’s no trouble at all.” He spoke as though his sentiment was the simplest truth in the world.

I bit my lip, his words filling the emptiness in my heart like the flickering flame of a candle in the dark. Slowly, I unwrapped the gift, the paper falling away to reveal a delicate glass ornament, its shape a perfect, crystalline star. It caught the lamplight, scattering prisms across the room like a reflection of something celestial—like fragments of a distant sky.

“It’s not much,” he almost sounded apologetic, “but stars seem to hold significance in your world’s imagery for this holiday.”

I stared down at the gift, my vision blurring as the sting of tears welled unexpectedly. The ornament trembled in my grasp, held close to my chest as the first drops slipped free, unstoppable. “Thank you,” I whispered, so softly it felt like the words might dissolve and me with it.

Watching me closely, a shadow of concern crossed his face, as though uncertain whether he had made me uncomfortable. “You’re crying…” His voice wavered, caught somewhere between a statement and a question.

I wiped at my tears, smiling through them. “They’re happy tears,” I told him. “I really needed this.”

Alhaitham sat beside me with the same calmness that defined his every action. The silence now brimmed with a bubbling warmth, deeply felt like a steadfast anchor.

“If you’d like,” he started, “then we’ll celebrate it. Here, every year. However you wish.”

His offer settled gently. “I would like that,” I said, already untethered.

Alhaitham nodded, brushing his hands against mine, the touch so tender it seemed to carry a promise with a three word phrase hanging in the air. As the glass star shimmered between us, the ache of homesickness began to ebb. In its place bloomed a sense of belonging.

A realisation that home was here. Home was now. And it had been all along.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[lighting-and-shadow]

Ikigai, Part 8

Summary: You’re desperately in love with a man who already belongs to another.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Part 7, Part 9

The walk to Sylus’ room is reminiscent of one to the gallows. You’ve seen those walks in people’s souls, how each step makes their throat tighten more and how they seem to mentally wait for each heartbeat to come. Like every step or every breath or ever beat is going to be their last.

That’s the only way you can think of to describe how you feel right now. A place that once meant safety and comfort to you has been tainted. It’s been warped, smeared, and destroyed in a way that a you from a few weeks ago would’ve never imagined.

Because now, you’re walking there with fear. Fear of Sylus of all people. Your partner in crime. Your confidant. Your closest friend. Your Morana.

You don’t want to think of him this way. Far from it. But Miss Hunter’s words, her shaky tone and fidgety hands, make you this way. The chaos of emotions in her threads make you this way. Everything about how she was when describing her time with Sylus make you this way.

Modification of her Evol.

You know very well what those words mean. You know what it looks like, feels like. You know all of this because it’s woven into her soul.

And her own soulmate tried to do that to her. Tried to split her open. Try to warp her and smear her and destroy what makes her her.

Rage and betrayal and whole other slew of emotions boil up inside of you. Each step makes you wonder when you’ll explode, when you’ll break from all of this.

You try to combat this with each breath. Each deep, hard-fought, breath. You try to embrace a wave of calm, to tamper down the craziness and be who you normally are: in control.

Nothing helps. Nothing works. And before you know it, you’re knocking at that accursed bedroom door.

Since when am I so polite with him?

A weak laugh escapes your lips. You stifle it down the moment the door begins to open.

Sylus is disheveled, an odd sight for someone who can look put together even in the middle of a gun fight. He just stares at you. His eyes refuse to leave yours, as if you’ll vanish if he so much as blinks.

It’s awkward, strained. An uncomfortable atmosphere that hasn’t been between you two in years. You can’t stand it.

“May I come in? I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Sylus says nothing. He looks deeply uncomfortable. It’s subtle, something most wouldn’t notice. But you’ve known him far too long. The slight flicker in his eyes down to the way he walks tells you everything. He’s off. He’s lost.

Not that you’re much different. Your tone earlier was cold, professional, and distant. Entirely lacking the usual playfulness or joy you’d have from simply interacting with Sylus.

You quickly step in his room once he moves aside for you. You don’t spare Sylus a glance. Any further looks would just deter you from your task.

This cannot go on.

Sylus’ treatment of Miss Hunter weighs on you. If you thought it was bad before, it’s far, far, worse now. Experiments? Changing her Evol? Scaring her so much she subconsciously rejects her own soulmate?

It’s arguable the worst start to any love story you’ve ever heard or seen. And you have more experience with that than anyone. You see them in every thread. You hear them in every soul.

All except mine.

You stare at Sylus’ empty bed to distract yourself from that rabbit hole of emotions, one you’re familiar with. You walk towards the bed. But you don’t sit on it. Rather, you just trace mindless patterns into the sheets to calm yourself.

Eventually, you turn to face the man whose room you stand in. Sylus stands with his back on the door. The lock is turned shut. And his arms are crossed, as if he’s shielding himself from you.

Since when were you two like this: weary and afraid of one another? After the argument today? After the one a few days ago? When Miss Hunter arrived? Or was it always there, brewing silently beneath your soft touches and charming smiles?

Whatever the case, you’ve never quite felt such distance from Sylus. You stand in the same room you two have shared for god knows how long, looking right at each other. And yet, you couldn’t be farther apart.

You tap your fingers on the bed like you did the night before Miss Hunter arrived. Tap. Tap. Tap. It’s the only sound that fills your ears until Sylus finally speaks.

“Can I explain now?”

To anyone else, his tone would be calm, demanding, and dripping with that usual hint of arrogance that he has. To you, he practically begs. Screams, even.

He only does that rarely. Like earlier today during your argument after your collapse. Which, given that specific context, made sense. Sylus was out of rhythm. His emotions were chaotic. He does care for you, after all. And you had just screamed your lungs out and passed out in front of him.

Who wouldn’t be shaken by that even a little?

You think over your next words for a moment, pushing that memory of your mind. What is there to explain? You’ve heard everything from Miss Hunter. You know what he tried to do.

Old wounds open up the more you think about it. The pinpricks of needles. Your home becoming a revolving door of doctors when you had no sign of a soulmate by age 10. The increasing prevailing sense of something being wrong with you the longer it went on.

They’re phantom pains, echoes of a past that only emerges when you sleep. They’re ghosts you tell no one about. They’re wounds that only you have ever dressed.

What was done to you was done in good faith. Much like what Sylus did. You could see it in his soul, see it in his thread. And it told you he wanted her to remember. He wanted his sorceress back at any cost.

But you wanted here his words. His interpretations and thoughts from his own mouth.

“Go ahead,” you gesture with your hand.

So Sylus does explain. Just not what you thought he would.

He goes into detail about his deal with Miss Hunter. About the brooch. About her search. About the twins and their pranks. About everything.

You look at him with scrutinizing eyes. You don’t search his soul; you have no need to.

In him, you find the truth and only the truth. You find no deception, no hidden meanings, nothing. It’s probably the most honest he’s been with you since Miss Hunter’s arrival.

“I never even had the brooch on me,” he chuckles a bit before he continues. “I don’t know why she ever thought I did.”

“Then where is it?”

“In your favorite book. On page 70. You know the scene.”

You absolutely do know the scene. It makes you smile even in this moment.

“Seriously? How on Earth do you expect her to know anything about my taste in literature?”

“You two spend so much time together I figured you were “besties” by now,” he says the words a great amount of sarcasm that makes you relax a bit.

It’s not much. But, you lean into the familiarity.

“Besides. Even if she didn’t know the significance of the book, I thought I’d do her a favor and introduce her to something good to read. She claims to be bored during her time here, and I wanted to be a more gracious host.”

You snort at his comment. Sylus tilts his head at you.

“What?”

You want to say, ”A gracious host? After kidnapping her and threatening her and almost turning her into a lab rat for the second time in her current life?” But you shake your head and say nothing.

Sylus seems to brush it off. His eyes soften and he takes a step towards you. When you don’t move away, he comes even closer, standing beside the foot of the bed while you stand in the same position next to the head.

“That’s all there is to what you saw. It wasn’t,” he pauses for a moment, searching for the words. “It wasn’t anything like you thought it was. Just a series of… interesting events.”

You just nod once more, turning your head to the bed again. You go back to tracing patterns in it, trying to rally yourself for the real conversation.

“Gamayun?”

You give him a quiet hum, but you don’t look up at him. You trace words into the bed, words from the scene of the book he placed the brooch in. They comfort you.

“Say something?”

You say nothing.

“What’s got you so quiet? Normally you talk my ear off, even when I’m being a fool.”

You make a hasty drag against the sheets, and the irritating sound that follows shocks both of you.

“Because I’m not here about what you just talked about and you know it.”

Or, at least, he should know it. He should know that him taking Miss Hunter to Philip is why you’re here. He should know why you’re so angry about him doing that. He should know.

He should know because he knows you were the one to find the twins. Two boys in agony, one covered in crystals. Children suffering because of selfish adults. Just like Sylus did. Just like Miss Hunter did. Just like you did.

The logical part of you knows that his goals for what he did weren’t anything like the ones that got the twins in that state. But, the other part of you, the one that made you come here, won’t listen.

That part of you remembers all those doctors. It remembers the padded rooms and the repeated cycles of accusations. It remembers the fear. It remembers the pain. And it remembers when you finally decided to run from all that.

That part of you is loud. It’s loud, it’s obnoxious, and it wants to cry. It wants to shed vicious tears and wretched sobs. But it doesn’t. It can’t. Because it wasn’t listened to in the past.

Why would this time be any different?

Because Sylus isn’t them, you remind yourself.

He’d listen to you. He has to listen to you. Sylus is a flawed man, not a monster. He’s a desperate and flawed man who just wants the love of all his lives back. He’s a desperate and flawed man who made a mistake.

And he has to know that, right?

“Than why are you here right now, my sweet Gamayun? Surely not to repeat the earlier interesting series of events? Or maybe go even further?”

“You’re deflecting,” you say immediately.

His usual jokes don’t make you flustered. Instead, they make you angrier as he avoids what you need yet again.

“That’s not an answer, sweetie.”

Something in you snaps. Maybe it’s the use of an old nickname. Maybe it’s due to another deflection. Maybe it’s both.

Either the case, you finally address the dreadful elephant in the room, “Why did you bring her to Philip?”

You ask because you want him to admit it himself. Hearing him say the words, the man you’ve loved for over a year, rather than Miss Hunter, the soulmate of said man, will makes things clearer.

Maybe it’ll undo the knot in your stomach and the dread that courses through your veins. Maybe his explanation will make the phantom needles go away, and drown out the screams of your precious boys.

Part of you knows that neither will happen. The other, more optimistic and the one that clings to your love, begs for something otherwise.

All that hopes drains away when you see the color leave Sylus’ face. His color seeps away at the same pace as your fleeting hope.

Oh God, what did you do, Sylus?

Miss Hunter didn’t give you any details. You can only speculate. But with this severe of reaction, especially coming from Sylus (who’s done a lot of questionable shit that he knows you’d never judge him for), you’re not sure you can handle the answer.

Miss Hunter avoiding your questions and looking apprehensive to tell you anything is one thing. Sylus doing it is a whole other can of worms. You steel your heart for whatever happens next.

“We weren’t resonating. I thought there was a problem with her. There isn’t, so we left.”

It’s about the same thing she told you. Enough to give you the gist. Enough to explain her fear and her discomfort. But not enough to explain Sylus’. Not nearly enough, given everything he’s seen and been through in both of his lives.

So you push, “Did you two rehearse your excuses, or did you both conveniently give me the same nonsense in hopes I wouldn’t press? Whatever the case, you ought to practice lying to me better.”

Sylus appears unaffected by your words. You, of course, know better. The slight knit of his brows, the way he holds himself and leans a tad more to one side. He’s so obvious to you that it’s painful.

“You really going to lie to me again, Sylus? After what happened last time?”

That full on makes him flinch. Your heart wavers as a result. That was a low blow. You both know that. And yet, you can’t back down. Because all you can see in your mind’s eye is the twins.

Luke trying to claw at his face, to etch in the same scars his brother carries. Kieran forcing himself to grow up even more as a result of that instability. The way they would both duck from mirrors, or even flat out shatter them, during those first few days.

Dozens and dozens of memories like that just sit in your mind. A weight unlike any weight you’ve ever carried. It festers there. It seeps into your veins, into your heart, and into your words.

You can’t escape it.

“What exactly are accusing us of, sweetie? Be specific. You how I hate to beat around the bush, and waste time.”

You do. And that’s exactly why you’re the negotiator of this business and not him.

Soon, she will take that place. Soon, I’ll need a new role in a new place.

“Is there anything in particular I should be accusing you of?” You counter.

“Not in my mind,” he glances you over from head to toe. “But that seems to be the case in your mind.”

A smirk crosses his lips. It’s not one of humor.

He words hit you to the core.

“That’s not an answer,” you shakily manage to get out.

“Well, if my answers aren’t satisfactory, maybe you can give me a direct question? As you say, it’s harder to avoid something if there’s no room to do so.”

That stupid smirk is still there. His eyes are still cold, colder than you’ve ever seen them directed at you.

“Did you or did you not hurt her?” You tone gets firmer the more you speak.

Sylus’ expression changes again. Not to one of humor or playfulness or anger like you expected. No, the Sylus before you was none of those right now.

He was betrayed.

“Who exactly do you think I am?”

“I don’t know!” You finally raise your voice despite all efforts not to. “I don’t know… why do you think I’m here? I need answers, Sylus. I need conformation that I’m missing something and that you didn’t do what I think you did.”

You pause for a moment, choking on your own words and emotions, “I need the truth from you. Please. I need the truth about this at the very least.”

Sylus says nothing for a moment. And you worry that this’ll be a rehash of your first fight. The fight that broke you. The fight that drove you away.

“My relationship to her isn’t your problem.”

Suddenly, you feel sick. But then, Sylus finally says something and you chase that nausea away, kicking it down with your professionalism.

“I want her gone,” he says with an odd amount of levity. “She isn’t worth the trouble she’s causing, so I pushed my plans forward ahead of schedule.”

You don’t entirely know what to say to that.

“Pardon?” You laugh a deranged laugh. “You brought her here. Why ever would you want her gone now after no progress on what ever it is that you need from her?”

“Like I said: she isn’t worth the effort. And I refuse to waste my time on useless things.”

“Useless? You have the gall, the absolute audacity, to call her useless?”

You aren’t yelling, despite how much you want to be. And that want gets stronger the amused Sylus appears.

“Why do you care so much about her, sweetie? She’s my guest, not yours.”

”Because she’s your soulmate. Because she’s the key to your happiness,” is what you want to say.

Instead, what comes out is, “Because I’ve become quite attached to her. And I find your attitude towards her appalling.”

“Of course you would, sweetie,” his voice gets quieter and softer. “Of course you would.”

Sylus gets close to you, putting his fingers beneath your chin and tilting your head upwards. You don’t resist; in fact, you embrace the small touch as much as possible.

“Because you have such a bleeding heart.”

You roll your eyes at him. Normally, Sylus says that to tease you. Like on negotiations where you spare the business partner in question. Or when you talk him down from simply killing his opponent and into seeing their usefulness. Or any of the numerous times you’ve brought in a stray animal and nursed it back to health.

He always says it in a teasing tone, almost mocking. But now, he says it with fondness.

Or love, your delusional and desperate brain says.

As soon as that thought cross your mind, you take a step back. Sylus immediately releases his hold on your chin, disappointment flashing across his face. Or, at least, that’s what you think you see.

“My heart aside,” you say to calm yourself and get your heart to stop racing. “That doesn’t change the fact that your behavior towards her has been reprehensible. Deplorable, even.”

“Why are so obsessed with her, Gamayun? Should I be jealous? She’s been tearing us apart just by being here. Don’t tell me she’s gone even further…”

He says it with jest and usual nonchalant attitude. But something in you tells you there’s more to it.

“Because of my bleeding heart, as you say,” you smile a bit before going back to a more serious expression. “And the fact that you two seem to hold so many secrets that I’m not privy too despite your less than stellar relationship.”

Suddenly, something in Sylus changes. You can’t quite put your finger on it, other than the fact that you strangely feel like prey. Like he’s hunting you or something like that. You’re on your guard. You’re waiting for him to strike.

Sylus lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re not being truthful with me either, sweetie.”

That makes you pause.

“This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?” He takes a step closer to you, the smirk on his lips thinning and his expression shifting to a more softer one.

You don’t know exactly what’s in that smirk. Anger? Bitterness? Hurt?

Hatred? Annoyance? Grief? your thoughts whisper before you can shut them down.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Sure, sweetie,” he’s surprisingly genuine and not sarcastic with his tone. “Sure it isn’t.”

“What in the world are you going on about this time?”

Fear drips into your words. You hope it isn’t noticeable. But judging by Sylus’ face, you didn’t succeed.

I’ve lost my touch.

Being so utterly emotional for the past few days has done this to you. Made cracks in your armor that show more and more with every passing second.

Sylus reaches for you again. And you, again, accept the touch. He cradles you head, hands delicately cupping your face, thumbs rubbing your cheeks in a way he knows soothes you.

Foolish man and his foolish tenderness when you’re supposed to be angry at him.

“Your obsession with her. I’ve never seen you act this way.”

You’ve never seen me try to mend the bond between someone I love and their soulmate before. But, hey, there’s a first time for everything?

“I am not obsessed. I do not do obsessed.”

Sylus frowns. You’re the one doing the deflecting now. You’re the one using humor as a distraction now.

“Than what you call all this?” He keeps stroking your cheeks with a featherlight touch.

“Care? Empathy? Because, as you know, I have a bleeding heart.”

It’s getting harder to keep your tone light. You hope that your voice never wavers. You pray that Sylus doesn’t notice how your skin warms from embarrassment or how fast your heart rate is.

You can’t even look him the eyes. And you struggle with all your might not to squirm.

“Your bleeding heart has never gone this far. Nor made you this mad at me,” the chuckle he lets out at the end of his sentence is bitter, but his eyes are still as sweet as ever.

Every statement Sylus makes feels like he’s ripping you open more and more. Like the claws of the fiend he was has made their way around the individual bones of your ribcage and is slowly but surely prying them open. It’s like he wants to expose your heart to the world.

Your brain is beginning to fog. Your mouth is beginning to dry. And the urge to run from here is getting heavier and heavier. Your feet are glued to the ground, and at the same time, they feel like they want to take flight.

When was the last time I felt this way? When I was still back home? At the jewelry store? Or maybe my old bar job?

“Well, most people I deal with are people of the N109 Zone. They’re far more secretive and, how do you and the twins put it, murderous than little Miss Hunter.”

You speak in hopes of cutting off your own horrible train of thought. It doesn’t work very well.

So you keep talking, “Speaking of Miss Hunter, I’m no closer to having an earthly idea of why she’s here. And whatever plans you have with her seem sloppy for your standards. I’d give them negative reviews. Maybe that’s why you didn’t share them with me?”

Another crack in your armor shows with your final teasing question. A crack that Sylus sees judging by how he takes his hands off your face and a step away from you.

“Than I’ll share my ideas with you to get some feedback for a better showing next time.”

You consider your words. Because this is your chance. Your chance to be in the know. The chance to know the truth. The chance to hear from Sylus’ own lips about why he brought this woman here.

But, you’ll also have to hear about their connection. Their past. And their future as soulmates.

You couldn’t hear that. You can barely think about it and see the proof with your own eyes everyday. Hearing it… well, that’s another story.

If he had offered this before their bond, you would’ve taken it. Jumped for joy, even. But you can’t now.

I can’t hear you say that you two are soulmates. I can’t hear you talk about your destined love and what that means for your future. I can’t.

Because hearing that means I can’t lie to myself any longer.

Hearing Sylus’ conformation means you take away that last layer of protection you have, that last bit of lies you tell yourself. Because you’ve know for years what the threads you see mean. You’ve confirmed it several times since you first saw them at age 7.

But, with Sylus, sometimes you cling to thought of being wrong. Of not seeing what you think you’re seeing. His words are all that it would take for that temporary peace to come crashing down.

Who in their right mind would do that to themselves?

“No. After all, I’m just a lowly actress in this show of ours. I’m no director.”

“Oh, you are no actress, Gamayun. If anything, you’re my director and writer. I’m merely here to finance whatever your heart desires to create. So, let us discuss our visions for Miss Hunter, and draw up a new episode this season.”

“I’d rather you consider this my resignation from that role into a new one. Because acting is starting to sound more appealing.”

Sylus pulls back. His face falls, and lets out a deep sigh that shakes you to your core.

“Than what do you want from me, Gamayun?” He pulls you close again, your head resting on his chest. “I’m so tired of fighting with you over something, someone, so trivial.”

Tired.

That one words carries so much weight. It seeps into your lonely soul.

It’s exactly how you feel. How all that’s happened recently has made you feel. How all the secrets and the soulmates and the unrequited love has made you feel.

You’ve been tired for years. For so long you no longer know what “rest” really feels like.

Tired of loving a world that would reject you in a second. Tired of holding it together. Tired of lying.

And maybe that’s why you did what you did. Maybe that’s why you hurt Sylus. Because you’re tired of always being the one to run.

People in your life drifted from you, yes. But it was always you that had to put the final nail in the coffin of your relationships.

So maybe that’s why you’re so tired. And maybe you wanted to make Sylus tired. Tired of you. So tired of you and your shit that he just turns his back on you permanently.

Tired.

“I’m tired too,” is all you can muster at the moment.

You pull back from Sylus. But not for long. As soon as you slip out of his embrace, you sit on his bed and pat the place beside you. He sits down immediately.

The way you two sit, facing each other and knocking knees together, reminds you of the position you and Miss Hunter sat in not too long ago. It warms you heart in an ironic and bitter way.

But you chase those thoughts away to focus. Focus on Sylus and focus on what you need to do right now. You take his hand, giving it light squeeze, before you look him directly in the eyes and begin speaking.

“I’m sorry,” it’s hard to get the words out, not out of pride, but out of pain. “For pulling away. For being so hostile earlier. For saying… no, threatening to leave you. And for not trusting you.”

For hurting you, and doing that so you’d chase me away. For making you believe I could just abandon you. For being jealous of you finding your destined love. For acting like a complete ass. For being hurt by some silly words.

I’m so sorry, my Morana.

“I’m sorry too.”

“For?” You press him, despite the discomfort on his face.

“For the lying. For what I said when you confronted me. For not telling you about my plans to bring Miss Hunter here. For not telling of my plans with—“

“You don’t need to apologize for that.”

The shock on Sylus’ face is evident. Even if he doesn’t completely show it.

“I’m not entitled to every little thing in your life. Just as you aren’t mine. We both need to learn to be okay with that.”

You pause before continuing, “And we both are entitled to space whenever we want and for however we want. Just as long as we communicate things.”

Sylus just nods. He squeezes your hand tighter. His eyes have his signature glimmer back. One so uniquely Sylus you don’t know how to describe it.

My selfishness dulled that glimmer.

As you and Sylus just talk for a bit, you think to yourself about your new plan.

I can’t just leave. And even with Miss Hunter as my replacement, I need a better idea for my departure. Somewhere away from the two of them, but with ties to my current life so that there’s no suspicion._  An idea hits you: Onychinus has many connections, many of which you forged yourself.

Kai did always want to recruit me. Maybe I’ll finally take her up on the offer?

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

2nd Author's Note: Do you prefer long chapters or short chapters? This story will be pretty long regardless, i just want to see what people prefer.

3rd Author's Note: Ikigai, Fun Fact = I originally was going to make this a one shot (and then plot ran away after breaking my kneecaps) and one where Reader didn't realize they were dating the entire time (but I wanted Sylus to suffer more, so I just made them very touchy, but with a line in the sand).

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano, @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

[standamianwayne]

yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader

cw: mentions of death + murder, implied creepy men being creepy men, damian loves his sissy idk what to tell yall

an excerpt, from a certain Damian Wayne’s journal—

“—my sister. One of us would become the heir to the League of Assassins. What would happen to the other, I cannot say as I never found out. We were both perfect. The genes of Talia al Ghul mixed with The Batman— there was no question one of us would be ruling one day. It was only a matter of who got here first.

She was born only a matter of minutes before me. If everything went to plan, she’d rule over the League and I, she had promised me when we were children, would be right beside her. Growing up, she was always trained just a little harder for a little harder. She was praised just a bit heavier, as well as disciplined harsher.

I pitied her some days, others I was much more bitter. Bitter at her, hardly. I was bitter angry with others around us. We’d be studying together, and she’d be pulled away. We’d be training together, and she’d be pulled away. Any time we were together, she was pulled away from me. I look back and wish I had attempted to keep her by my side. Alas, she was going to rule over the League, so I had no other choice than to let her go.

One day, I overheard some guards speaking about us. She’s supposed to be the heir, “but she’s too soft,” one of them said. It gave me pause. My sister was nice to me, though that definition must differ from those here in Gotham (monsters, I remember them calling us). Was she nice to everyone? Was she hesitant to kill? I had yet to see my sister in action, but I knew her. Much more than they did. She was fond of the arts and animals, but she was as assassin regardless of what those guards said. The thought lingered for a few more days, each morning I thought over it even more.

She was not ‘too soft’ I decided. My sister, my twin, the other half of my soul. No, I thought, she was not soft at all. She was sweet, she smiled at others without a hint of mockery or deception. She made sure I was alright after missions, kept up with our studies, ate sufficiently. She was not too soft— she was simply kind.

To the others in the League, that was seen as weak.

I never asked mother about these labels. Perhaps I feared what it meant for my sister. After all, if she could not take over the League due to this ‘weakness,’ what good was she? Would she be forced to harden? Would she be exiled? These scenarios haunted me for many nights. I could never see myself without her. A world without my sister by my side will never be a world I wish to live in.

In a way, I was relieved when we were sent to live with Father. A place, a haven almost, where I did not have to fear my sister leaving me. Maybe here she would be accepted as she was. I had no care for how others saw me. As long as I was not looked down upon, I was indifferent to any impressions one may have of me. With my sister, however, I simply wished she would be treated as normal. To me, she was is an angel, and I was content with being the only one to see that, so long as she was not seen negatively.

The people of Gotham judged us quickly. Father introduced us to his colleagues at some gala, and the news spread quickly. We were born out of wedlock, children of an affair, children of a prostitute, children of a stranger. We were beautiful, angry, exotic, disgusting. We were monsters, though perhaps the fault of that label falls on me (I had punished a man for speaking to her in a manner so disgusting he should be glad he is not dead).

She was weak back in the League, too soft. Here, she was scary, too mean. She was honest and blunt, yes, but she smiled at them. Did they not know what that meant? In Gotham, killing at all made you horrible. In the League, killing quickly made you kind, made her ‘weak.’

My sister and I grew up, and the rumors dwindled down. Nobody knew who our mother was outside of those Father trusted with the information (which was very few). My sister, already perfect, became even more beautiful. Sickeningly so. I hated when a male our age spoke to her, but I let him do so as I knew she wouldn’t mind. She enjoys talking to others freely, about anything other than death.

There was no feeling comparable to when I would see a man speaking with her. One much older than us, who had known her for years. I saw the leering, the flittering of eyes from her eyes to her mouth and then lower. It is comparable to lava burning hot in my veins. I wanted to snap their necks, rip their eyes out, claw at their faces until I saw bone. I wanted to kill them.

I do not doubt our other siblings felt the same. I’m sure even Father thought of it a few times. I hardly spoke to some of them, even then I knew one thing, one person, was keeping us together. I would do anything to keep her safe, happy. I would burn down the world if she asked. I know I am not the only one.”

happy new year 😛 thank you for the support, bye byeee ❤️

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine-A Secret With Their Families Meeting

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~

Author's Note: I wanted drama... here's some drama... maybe some more angst in the future for this fic series lol Summary: Y/N's period is late and her family and Luke's family meet for the first time Warnings: stress along the idea of pregnancy Word Count: 4,658 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Tomorrow was the semi-annual Hughes Bowl. It was another one where Jack was unable to play, but was a good sport about everything. Luke’s parents were coming into town to watch them play against each other. Like every year. 

Except this year was extra important to Luke. Not because they were fighting to stay in a playoff spot but because his parents were meeting Y/N’s parents for lunch and then the game. 

Luke was nervous. His family and Y/N’s family were very opposite people. Luke was tense, afraid that something would go wrong. His family had difficulty admitting it but they have issues with being out of touch sometimes. While Y/N’s family have lived paycheck to paycheck for Y/N’s entire life. 

He paced back and forth, dropping his gaze towards his watch every few seconds as his family was supposed to be at the apartment first. 

Jack was picking up Quinn from the airport and was planning on meeting everyone at the restaurant. Y/N’s family were driving up and staying in a hotel for the night, that Luke paid for despite her father’s countless protests. 

This was Luke’s idea, an idea that he is now severely regretting as he doesn’t want to give her father any more reason not to like him. Even though she swears that her dad will never not like him. Luke still wants to say in his good graces. He doesn’t need his family messing with that.

“Uhm–Luke,” he heard her call out from their shared bathroom. Luke completely snapped out of his trance as he followed after her call.

He skipped through the bedroom before walking into their ensuite bathroom. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly as he glanced down onto the bathroom counter before looking back towards her. 

“What’s today’s date?” she asked as she was fiddling with the promise ring he gave her on their two year anniversary. He nodded slowly as his lips parted and clamped shut again.

“The 24th,” he mumbled. She nodded slowly and sarcastically waiting for him to grasp onto the question. “Our families are meeting today?” he elaborated in hopes that is the answer she was hoping for.

“What happens on the 20th of every fucking month, Luke?” she asked, throwing her arms to the side frustratingly.

His mouth fell open as his eyes widened. His entire body ran cold. “You haven’t–?” he trailed off as she shook her head. “Four days can’t be that bad, that’s–that’s normal right?” he expressed as he reached towards her, nervously taking a hold of her waist. Luke needed to hold her, she was like a security blanket to him. Feeling her skin calmed him in every way possible. 

“I’ve been like clock work since I was thirteen years old, Luke. Something’s not right,” she muttered while avoiding his gaze. “This cannot happen right now,” she said as she rested her hands onto his arms. Slowly, she glided her thumb along his skin; feeling his bicep tense under her delicate touch.

“Well, it’s only four days. It’s–We can’t freak out yet,” he tried to be reassuring but the stutter in his voice was hard to ignore. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around the center of him. She rested her head against his chest as he pulled her tighter to his chest. 

“What if I’m already freaking out? This is not how I wanted this to happen,” she mumbled against his chest, a small sob leaving her throat. Luke dragged his hand up and down her back soothingly. 

“We don’t know anything yet, okay? I know that’s not reassuring at all but we’ll figure it out? We’ll figure it out no matter what this means, okay?” he mumbled as he raised his hand up and ran his fingers through her hair slowly. She simply hummed against his chest as she sniffled another sob.

She took a deep breath, taking in the perfect smell of his cologne that made her heart race. Except, her heart was racing for other reasons. She was on the verge of finishing her degree and Luke’s role on the Devils was getting more and more important. 

They were barely adults, hell, some people may still see them as kids. She couldn’t have a kid right now. She thought that her and Luke were careful, very careful. At least she thought so.

“Hey,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her cheek, pulling her head away from his chest. He needed to look her in the eyes, maybe so she would hear him. Delicately, he glided his thumb across her cheek. He wiped a tear off of her cheek. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” he whispered while looking deeply into her eyes.

She nodded slowly. He nodded with her as the corner of his lips curled upward. A nervous laugh left her lips as he leaned towards her and pressed his lips against her forehead for a few seconds.

The doorbell echoed throughout their apartment and he slowly pulled back. “I’ll go grab them,” he said quietly as he rested both hands onto her cheeks, wiping the leftover tears on her cheek.

“Stall them for me,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smiled softly before he pressed his lips against her forehead once more.

“Of course, my love,” he slipped out of the bathroom, carefully closing the door. He pressed his back against it for a second as he took a deep breath. He bit his bottom lip as he continued to walk out of the bedroom. He rubbed his eyes as he walked through the living room. He walked towards the door and pulled it open. His parents were waiting outside the door. 

“Hi,” he forced a wide smile on his lips, hoping to hide the conversation that he just had with Y/N. They smiled widely as they made their way into the apartment. Ellen instantly wrapped her arms around Luke. He returned the hug as he looked towards his dad. His dad smiled softly towards him, letting his mom have the moment longer. 

Ellen pulled back, stepping aside to allow her husband to have a moment with their youngest son. Jim stepped over and gave Luke a quick hug before he stepped back. 

“Where’s my future daughter-in-law?” Ellen asked teasingly. Luke rested his hands onto his hips as he pressed his lips together. He took in a shaky breath. He couldn’t form words. There was a long beat before he answered. “Is she alright?” his mom let out suddenly.

“Oh! Oh yeah. She’s fine. Just we uh–we got into an argument so we’re just–” he trailed off as he took a deep breath. It was probably the worst lie or either the best cover for their current situation. It would explain any tension or awkward silences between them. Now he has to tell his beautiful girlfriend, whom he’s never argued with, the lie he just told.

“Was it bad?” her mom asked, “Are you okay?” she asked urgently. 

Luke took a deep breath as he nodded, “Just a lot of stress in the air, I’m just giving her some space,” Luke explained as he walked backwards. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Do you guys know when Quinn and Jack are going to the restaurant?”

“They’re leaving after Y/N’s family gets here,” Jim said while looking around the apartment. Almost as if he was checking for evidence of an argument. 

Luke was pretending to text Quinn about their plans but in reality he was texting Y/N their new cover story.

Luke: Hey lover, I may have told my parents that we got into an argument… So cover story?

Y/N: sure but I don’t even know how to pretend to have an argument with you

Luke: just claim I said something stupid, seems realistic enough

He heard her stifle a laugh from behind him. He spun his head around to see her making her way out of the hallway. Their eyes connected and a smirk formed on her lips as she rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Hi Ellen, Jim. How are you guys?” she asked as she awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest. Luke rounded the corner towards the kitchen, needing water and to make it seem like they were not talking. But all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, hold her tightly against his chest.

The impending situation waiting to be decided is still circling his mind. Their families did not need to be aware of what was happening. That would be a huge mistake.

“We’re doing good, how are you my dear?” the question was stated loudly, perhaps hinting to her son that he was the cause of the argument. 

Ellen and Jim worshipped Y/N and that is exactly how he wanted his girlfriend to be seen by his parents. He was okay with his parents thinking that he was in the wrong. 

He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He took a long sip of the water before he began walking back into the living room. He could overhear his mom and Y/N engage in a conversation. 

Luke walked beside his dad, bringing the water back towards his lips. “Are you two okay?” his dad asked quietly. Luke nodded as he added the lid to the water. 

“We’re fine, just not good timing on our part,” Luke joked and Y/N overheard. She gave him a look before she replied to what his mom was saying.

“When does her family get here?” Jim asked quietly. 

“Few minutes or so.” Luke mumbled as he kept his gaze on Y/N. He watched how her jaw remained tightly clenched until she was saying something. Her breathing was shallow, she was trying not to cry. 

“I thought the whole in-laws' meetings happened at weddings,” Jim whispered jokingly. Luke rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Yeah, well, it’ll be good for you guys to interact,” Luke mumbled nervously, “Get to know each other a little bit,”

Jim simply nodded along as almost on queue, the doorbell rang. Y/N's entire body straightened as she smiled politely towards Ellen before she squeezed her way towards the door. Luke guided his parents back away from the door. Luke muttered a small joke to his parents, practically telling them to behave.

Y/N took a deep breath as she pulled the door open. It didn’t take much as her younger brother barged his way into the apartment with a wide smile on his lips. “I made the program!” he cheered excitedly, his eyes were only on his older sister. She stared back towards him with confusion. 

“You made the what?” she replied back.

“You got on the US program team?” Luke chimed from the back of the living room, wearing the same wide smile EJ was wearing. EJ nodded encouragingly. “That’s incredible, dude!” Luke charged towards him, giving him a huge hug. 

“I don’t know what that is but I’m assuming–”

“Your brother is one of four goalies that made the USA National Team Development Program,” her mother bragged as she excitedly tapped his shoulders. 

Ellen and Jim smiled widely. “Oh wow! That’s amazing!” Ellen prompted, knowing this exact motherly feeling on multiple different levels. Without hesitation she made her way across the small space to give Y/N’s mother a huge embrace.

This gesture made the introductions between the families much easier. Y/N’s mom and Ellen instantly started chatting while Jim and her father were already sitting on the couch talking to one another. EJ was sitting between his father and Jim, the three of them talking about the Development Program.

Jazmine and Luke were talking together near the front door. “I mean not that I’m nervous to find a new guy–Is she okay?” Jazmine stopped mid sentence once she noticed Y/N in the kitchen.

She was alone in the kitchen. It was overwhelming. All of it. The fact that her little brother was moving to the midwest for an elite hockey program was hard to handle. Also the fact that she may be pregnant and cannot talk to anyone about it. She leaned forward and gripped the counter, her head was hanging low. She was squeezing the ends of the counter, her shoulders rising and falling at a rapid rate. 

“I’ll go check on her,” Luke offered as he slid past Jazmine and made his way towards the kitchen. He stepped into the small, barely secretive area. 

He walked directly beside her, he gently rested his hand onto the center of her back. “Goregous,” he whispered. She straightened her frame and leaned away from the counter. She faced away from him, mainly away from their families potential wandering gazes. 

“Honey,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She shook her head as she stepped away from him.

“I don’t know how to pretend that this is all fine,” she whispered as Luke’s hands remained in the air. “I’m trying not to freak out but–”

“We don’t know anything yet,” he tried to reassure her.

She spun quickly on her heel, looking up towards him. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly, “That’s the problem, Luke! We don’t know anything, our life could be very different and we have no idea,” she was yelling at him yet she was barely audible.

Luke took a hold of her waist, spinning her around to face him. He reached towards her, taking a soft hold of her cheeks. He glided his thumbs across the apples of her cheeks slowly. 

“We’ll be okay if our life together changes in an instance tonight or if it doesn’t. What we know right now, is that our families are getting along great. Your brother is on track to get drafted to the league. Your sister is finally moving on from that asshole. And you and I are going to be okay. We are going to be okay,” he whispered towards her as he continued to look deeply into her eyes.

She couldn’t form any words as she simply nodded. “Okay?” he asked softly, a small smile on his lips.

“Okay,” she whispered as she slipped closer to him. He released the old of her cheeks as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to his chest. Slowly, he ran his hand through her hair as he swayed their bodies back and forth for a few seconds.

Ellen nudged Y/N’s mother and whispered, “Looks like they solved their argument,” Ellen offered.

“Were they in a spat?” she asked quietly. 

“Luke said he was giving her space because they got into an argument right before we got here,” Ellen said while shaking her head. Y/N’s mother’s eyes widened as she looked back towards the kitchen. The pair were still embraced as Luke was whispering into Y/N’s ear. 

“I cannot picture those two raising each other’s voices at one another.” she said to Ellen as she admired the way Luke slowly pulled back and the smile on her daughter’s face. It was small, maybe not fully genuine but it was a real smile towards Luke. 

“He’s so in love with your daughter. I’ve never seen one of my boys like these before.” she offered as the pair exited the kitchen together, emerging in a conversation with Jazmine right away.

Ellen turned her gaze and looked into Y/N’s mother’s eyes, “When my husband and I pictured someone for our daughter, Luke is better than anything we could’ve imagined,” she explained softly as she watched Y/N rest her head against Luke’s arm. 

Ellen dropped her gaze towards the floor with a small grin on her lips, “I must say as a mother to only sons, that is the greatest thing I could hear about one of them. I’ve always said Luke is the first to get married,” she offered teasingly. 

“Let’s hope not soon,” Y/N’s mother said in a giggle. Ellen let out a small gasp as her phone started vibrating in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw that Quinn was calling her.

“Hi Quinny,” Ellen said quietly. 

“I thought we were meeting you guys at the restaurant? Jack and I are sitting alone at a giant table. We look like freaks,” Quinn said half-jokingly.

“Alright, we are leaving their place now. You’ve got a table for ten right?” Ellen questioned as the entire group started making their way out of the house.

“Yes, Jack and I look ridiculous by the way,” he continued.

Luke wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist as he led the charge of their families out of the apartment. “Food should help,” He teasingly poked her side. 

“Luke Hughes,” she scolded through a small fit of laughter. She took slow steps away from Luke to walk side by side with her mother and Ellen. Luke did the same with her dad and his dad.

Once they reached the restaurant, it was evident where they were sitting as Quinn and Jack did look incredibly ridicous sitting alone. Luke took a small hold of EJ and Jazmine’s arms and guided them over to where his brothers were sitting.

“Boys, this is EJ and Jazmine, Y/N’s younger siblings. EJ, Jaz, this is Jack and Quinn,” Luke said as he introduced the siblings. They shook each other’s hands as they sat beside one another. Luke sat down beside Quinn while Y/N sat down beside Jazmine as their parents were already sitting beside one another and chatting.

“What’s up guys?” Quinn asked as he brought his glass of water to his lips. EJ and Jazmine smiled shyly towards one another as they tried engaging in conversation. EJ was trying not to freak out. He was a huge fan of Quinn, it was a lot at once. Jazmine simply finds the whole thing awkward. 

“Oh, Jack, EJ got on the developmental team,” Luke said as he pointed towards EJ. EJ’s eyes widened as he dropped his gaze shyly, he tried to hide the grin on his lips. Jack’s eyes widened as an instant grin formed to his lips.

“Aw, that’s fucking awesome kid–here, let me give you my number if you have any questions about the whole process–the team, anything!” Jack said excitedly as he quickly handed his phone over to EJ. “Serious offer man,” Jack said happily as EJ started adding his phone number into the phone.

Y/N and Luke’s eyes met again while Y/N’s plastered a small smile on her lips as they forced their gazes back down to the menu that was rested in front of them. EJ, Jack, and Quinn were all engaged in a conversation about hockey; the program while Luke and Y/N sat silently listening along. 

Jazmine leaned into Y/N whispering, “Are you okay? You’ve been too quiet.”

Y/N turned her head to the side, meeting her little sister’s gaze before looking back towards Luke. He was focused on the menu in front of him. A small scowl on his lips as he was probably upset with the limited game day options he had to eat. 

“Just a lot going on in my mind,” Y/N mumbled before she decided on her soup and sandwich combination before closing her menu. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked her. Y/N shook her head slowly before looking back towards Luke who was still staring down at the menu. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be alright, Jaz,” Y/N said quietly. Her voice grasped Luke’s attention. His gaze instantly landed on Y/N as he shut the menu and rested it onto the table. Luke and Y/N’s eyes met and he gave her a small reassuring smile.

“Of course, you have Lukey,” she muttered teasingly. Y/N nudged Jazmine but she was right. 

~~~

The third period was about to start for the game and it was still tied. The parents were sitting in a row of the suite watching the game. Y/N was standing in the back, watching the game on the TV screen. EJ and Jazmine were enjoying the snacks as they wandered towards where the parents were to watch the game again.

Y/N was stirring her drink with her straw as she forced her gaze up towards the TV screen every few seconds before she looked back down towards the mocktail in front of her. 

“Hey,” Jack whispered as he walked up towards her, adjusting the sling on his arm. Y/N hummed as she kept her gaze low. He furrowed his eyebrows. “My mom said you and Luke got into an argument today, are you doing alright?”

Y/N scoffed as she raised her head to meet his gaze, “I’m fine and we didn’t actually get into an argument at all. Just some stuff is going on and I–we cannot–we agreed to not talk about it until tonight,” she expressed as she looked into Jack’s eyes.

Jack stared suspiciously, “I’m not a gossip like everyone else in our families, if you want to talk about it with me. I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Jack expressed quietly as he leaned towards her. He looked up towards the screen to see the game going.

She took a hesitant breath before glancing towards their families loudly chatting at the edge of the suite that led to the perfect view of the game. 

“I’m late, Jack,” she whispered as she looked into his eyes. His eyes widened as he leaned towards her. 

“Holy shit, do you really think–?” he asked barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know, it may be too early to even tell–I don’t know,” she said while shaking her head slightly. “We’re barely twenty-one, this isn’t–this is not how this shouldn’t–”

“What does my brother think?” he asked quietly as he rested a reassuring hand onto her shoulder. 

“He says that we’ll be okay either way. We’ll figure it out whatever that means,” she said while rolling her eyes. “He’s trying to make me feel better but nothing that he says is helping which isn’t his fault,” 

Jack took another step towards her, he leaned closer, “How careful were you–”

She let out a sudden giggle, “Are you asking how often your brother wears–”

“Uh–withdrawn, nothing further,” he let out jokingly as he leaned back. They both giggled as he tapped his hand against the table.

“We’re very careful, probably too careful for being together for two years. Well maybe not–it turns out,”

“Well if it’s any constallation, Luke would be an incredible father,” his voice was barely above a whisper. 

Y/N smiled softly as she tilted her head to the side to look towards the TV screen. “I know,” she whispered softly, “I was hoping there would be a ring and a wedding before this was even an idea,” she offered with a dry laugh. 

“Well, Lukey is lucky to have a girl like you, you know that right? I give you two a lot of shit but if he doesn’t marry you then that kid is not going to marry anyone,” Jack said as he awkwardly leaned towards her and gave her a hug with the best of his abilities with his arm in a sling.

“Thank you Jack,” she mumbled while she accepted the hug. “Luke’s freaking out but I think he’s letting me freak out more since he’s–”

“He’s trying to be strong for you. Yeah I can tell,” Jack offered while laughing. “His eyes darted towards you like every single second to see if you were okay. Everyone can tell something isn’t right with you guys. You guys barely spoke at dinner, that’s weird. Our moms are over there talking about what you two could be arguing about,” 

“Yeah? What are their theories?” she asked jokingly. 

“Uhm, my mother seems to believe that Luke said something stupid because us ‘Hughes boys’ apparently have no filters. Whatever that means,” Jack said sarcastically. “Your mother believes you took something too personally and it spiraled from there,”

“Sounds about right,” she muttered while rolling her eyes playfully.

“You’ll be alright,” Jack muttered as he shifted his gaze towards the TV just as Timo scored to take the lead. “I know that’s right!” he cheered. 

“Thanks for listening, Jack, seriously,” she offered. He smiled towards her with a dry laugh leaving his lips.

“Yeah, that’s what future brother-in-laws are for?” he asked jokingly. She rolled her eyes playfully.

~~~

Their families were back in their hotels and Quinn was on a plane back to Vancouver. Luke and Y/N were alone in their apartment sitting on the bathroom floor with the three pregnancy tests resting on the bathroom counter. Y/N couldn’t stand going in public to buy the tests, especially right after a Devils game.

She’s been stopped in public before for dating Luke after a game. She did not need to be seen in public buying a pregnancy test. She did not need to see the potential media surrounding it. 

Their backs were pressed against the walls, for the first thirty seconds they remained silent. “It’s probably too early for it to be accurate,” she let out.

“Well, we’ve got two paths right? So path one is that it’s negative and life goes back to normal. Maybe double wrap it from now on–”

“Luke!” she scolded while smacking her hand against his chest, a small giggle left her lips. He let out a small laugh.

“Okay, okay but then we have path two right. The test is positive and we have to change course right? Okay, you’re pregnant and we are going to be parents. We’ll get a bigger place and we’ll be able to have a room for the nursery. You’re about to finish school and look into possibly a job and then we’ll have a little boy or girl–it could be great,” 

“I mean we’re young but we’ll make it work, right?” he offered as he shifted his gaze towards her. She didn’t respond, she simply nodded. “I mean your family is only a few hours away, Jack is only a couple blocks away–not that Jack would be a fantastic babysitter–well maybe he would be, I don’t know. I’m sure my parents would be willing to fly in and help whenever we would need it–”

“Luke, please stop talking–your babbling is making me more nervous,” she said with an awkward laugh. 

“Sorry, gorgeous,” he said while awkwardly laughing. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards his side. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 

“I talked to Jack about it, I didn’t mean to it sorta spilled out in the suite,” she explained.

Luke nodded slowly, “That explains the long awkward hug he gave me after the game. I thought he was making fun of my shootout attempt,” 

Before she could reply, the timer they had went off. She lifted her head up and their eyes connected. She nodded allowing him to reach up and take a hold of the three tests. His hand covered the tiny screen that says if she was pregnant. He leaned back against the wall holding them in his hand. 

“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

All she could muster up was a nod. He moved his hand, holding all three of the tests in his hand flatly. All three of them clearly stated Not Pregnant, Luke dropped them on the floor and pulled her tightly to his chest.

“Guess we’re double wrapping it–”

“Luke Hughes! Take something serious for once,” she said while laughing. 

“We’ll be okay, my love,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against the side of her head. She smiled to herself as she ran her fingers through his curls. 

“Eventually we’ll think about it, right?” she whispered. He hummed as he ran his hand down her back. 

[dollishmehrayan]

𐔌 . ⋮ DAMIAN WAYNE AS A S/O .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ── .✦ ( solo damian wayne x reader run )

𝜗𝜚 a/n: I’ve been reading damian’s run these days and aww stop he’s so adorable anyways I thought why not to write something for him to get out my writers block sooo enjoy?? anyways I was pressured by my bbg @kyriakis to post this so after this I’ll probably write genuine hcs of him only of things he probably does / used to based off canon, tags: ( damian wayne x reader ) ! Disclaimer the following tags include jason, dick, bruce, Tim even when not mentioned this allows for the fandom to equally react since most don’t follow damian tag

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

A BIT OF A GREAT GIFTER ── .✦

Damian’s idea of romance is... a little dramatic. You once casually mentioned how you like the color purple or any other color and the next day you received an extravagant bouquet of rare lavender flowers, LIKE THIS MAN REMEMBERS WELL.

“Purple is a necessary part of your aesthetic,” he states nonchalantly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

But then, if you ever mention how much you love a particular type of chocolate or a specific scent, he’ll track it down and somehow acquire it without you knowing and just say it’s a ‘gift’ as if he didn’t spend hours finding it.

And if you dare to ask him about it? PFFFF

“Tt, don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply noticed the details, as any competent person would.”

DRAMATIC BUT ON LEVEL 10 ── .✦

Damian acts like you’re going on an actual mission when you leave the house. “What do you mean you’re going for a walk? You can’t just walk around Gotham. There’s danger everywhere.”, “It’s just a bodega damian.”

And even if it’s just a trip to the store, he’ll insist on accompanying you with that “I’m doing this for your own safety” tone, but the moment you come back home, he acts like he’s been out on patrol the entire time.

“I’ve successfully completed the task of ensuring no harm came to you.” HIS LOVE IS IN ACTIONS NOT WORDS OKAY?!

He says this while wearing a full suit and tie, because of course, that makes sense for a walk to the bodega ( corner shop )

Not the Best at Compliments, but...

Damian’s way of showing affection can be a little... rough. But somehow, it always gets the point across, think of like people being sarcastic as a love language but his seems to be like kinda blunt? Where at first he won’t say out loud ‘oh I love you’ no but he isn’t ignorant either, he knows he loves you and that’s validated to him.

“You’re fine. I mean, I guess I could see how someone would find you attractive. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

And then he’ll look at you, almost daring you to call him out. But in truth, his eyes are saying, “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world, but I’ll never admit it because I am Damian Wayne, and I am far too cool for this.”

The thing is, though, he’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy, even if it means begrudgingly going out of his way to make sure you get exactly what you want.

WILL DEFEND YOU 100% ── .✦

one of his brothers say something mildly annoying to you?

“Don’t talk to them like that.”

Damian’s got your back no matter how small the offense.

Someone’s being rude to you in public? He’s ready to pull a full I’m Damian Wayne, son of Batman, sole heir to ra’s al ghul and start a verbal altercation, followed by a very intense, “No, they didn’t just say that about you” look.

You? Trying to defuse the situation like a normal person?

Damian? “Nope, too late. I already decided it’s a fight now, this is mockery.

If you’re lucky, he’ll look at you and say, “It’s okay. I’m protecting you,” with a glint in his eye that says, “And you better be grateful.”

GENUINELY DOESNT GET PDA BUT FOR A GOOD REASON ── .✦

Damian’s not one to show affection publicly. In fact, he’ll try to avoid touching you at all if he’s around anyone. But the second he’s sure no one is looking, you’ll catch him glaring at you from across the room like, “We’re together, and everyone should know it, but I won’t say it.” BUT he isn’t embarrassed by you or isn’t hiding you relationship

It’s just private not secret.

He’ll give you the occasional side-hug or brush your hand ever so slightly, then immediately retreat like nothing happened if you don’t grab it fast enough.

But if you’re standing near him, don’t be surprised when he casually places a hand on your shoulder or rests his head on yours... only for it to turn into the most awkward five seconds ever, followed by an immediate, “What? It’s not like I wanted to do that. You were in my personal space.” HE DOESNR WANT TO ADMIT HE’S DEPENDENT 😭

So, yeah. PDA with Damian is... complicated, BUT ITS DIFFERENT

“It’s a Normal Relationship. I Don’t Know What You’re Talking About”

Damian, when you ask if he wants to do something like go for a walk, or watch a movie together:

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re not doing anything special. This is just a normal... well, normal for us. What is ‘normal,’ anyway?”

And yet, there he is, sitting with you, absolutely enjoying the time together trying to act like it's nothing special, but he’s leaning in just a little too close to you to be that casual.

Sometimes, he’ll act like he’s too cool for the typical date stuff, but in reality, he’s all in. He’s just trying to pretend he’s not, to maintain his Bat-cred.

COMPETITIVE TO A TEA ── .✦

This seems like a regular occurrence for him where, it’s not only you but anyone, he likes competition and challenges in general by classmates, friends, you, teammates, anyone. ( This also why he doesn’t do well on teams in canon but we ain’t ready for this convo )

Whenever there’s something to compete over whether it’s a simple game or a sparring match damian’s all in. He takes everything way too seriously.

“I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

Damian: “Tt, you think I’m going to let you win? You underestimate me immensely this is social injustice to my name.”

And the next thing you know, he’s strategizing his every move, plotting out every turn like he’s planning an actual mission. MEANWHILE ITS JUST JENGA DAMN

When he inevitably wins (because he’s Damian Wayne, and you knew he was going to), he’ll throw you the most smug smile.

“I told you. You should’ve known better.”

BUT HE LOVES YOU ── .✦

Underneath the tough exterior, Damian’s a softie who occasionally lets his guard down when you're alone together. He might not say it, but you know when he's trying to be vulnerable.

For example, one evening, after a particularly intense patrol or he says something too smart during a simple game of uno , he’ll just stare at you, quietly, in the way that only Damian can.

“You’re... okay, right? I didn’t, uh, hurt you…. I apologize for my lack of understanding if that hurt you.”

You’ll blink and be like, “You literally saved me like 10 minutes ago?”

And he’ll just look away, muttering something like, “Well, I don’t want you to get hurt. I just... don’t want to lose anyone again.” ( damian ‘I will not have anyone dying for my mistakes the way he did’ Wayne ☹️

And then he’ll change the subject super quickly, because he doesn’t want to burden you with his fears

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 03.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, mention of blood, inaccurate medical talk, not proofread

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: i finally got the time to finish this, once exams are over I'll make the necessary edits. enjoy :)

wc: 5.3k

fic masterlist. previous. next

dividers by @cafekitsune

"that is not a wound."

"its a cut."

"not deep enough to come to me!"

"i thought you said we were friends— is that how you treat your friends hm?" red mused, though his modulated voice is supposed to be monotonous and blank, you've learned to really listen. and you could hear the amusement rolling off of him just like the easy sarcasm that trickles from his tongue.

its been more than a month since red hood came stumbling down your balcony, literally, and from then he's been coming too often. well too often for someone like him. you had thought that would have been the end of your interactions with the infamous vigilante— but life has a need to always prove you wrong.

sometimes he comes twice a week, sometimes he doesn't come a whole week— it was never steady. he came whenever he felt like it. about now you're certain that instead of 'help' , that he could basically get from his other vigilante... colleagues, he simply uses his injuries as an excuse. sometimes his wounds aren't even that bad! just a scratch or a graze, something he could so easily fix himself.

but, in the past days you've gotten to know him, he'd rather die than admit he enjoys your company.

"now you wanna admit we're friends huh?" you scoffed as your rolled your eyes and grumbled under your breath as you walked to the bathroom to get the kit. you were in a particularly ruined mood since you were just about to head to sleep when he rudely and loudly jumped into your apartment through your balcony.

he's more relaxed on your couch now, one arm on the arm rest while the other rested on the back of the couch, his legs spread. you paused infront of him then scoffed before glaring, kicking his feet lightly.

"is a wounded man supposed to sit that relaxed? at least pretend it hurts." you sit beside him and wait with an impatient frown as he rolls off his jacket. the cut is on his bicep, which he deliberately flexes when you look at the cut.

"it doesn't hurt, i have a good tolerance for pain, sunshine." he utters the pet name mockingly and your glare deepens, "it just needs medical attention. you're the one who always says to 'take care'."

you're almost baffled at how teasing and sarcastic he's gotten, he was guarded in the beginning, still sarcastic but more short and reserved. though you'll admit, it feels nice that he feels comfortable enough around you now.

the same goes for you too, you were cautious around him. mindful of your words and tone, barely commenting on the daily shit that goes in gotham, scared that you'd somehow offend the vigilante with a wrong opinion.

now you glared outright, you scolded more— but you even smiled more, treated him normal enough... like an old friend. it felt refreshing, this sense of normalcy with you. maybe because you weren't a vigilante which most people were in his life, or maybe because you were still untainted from the worst horrors of gotham— he doesn't know. all he knows is that he intends to hide this little something he's found, he cannot leave it he knows, far too selfish for that. so he'll keep you hidden from the people from his world, keep you safe from the claws of the crimes.

"right." you rolled your eyes before cleaning the wound, being more firmer than you should and he simply smiles under the helmet. his lack of response, not even a flinch irriates you further so you dress the wound tight, trying to be aggressive.

"you do know its morally wrong to torment a patient." he murmured and you gave him a pointed look, acting like you're done with him. "it is about to be 3 in the morning red. i have work." you remind him, hoping he catches the hint to not irk you further.

"you never told me about your job. what do you do?" he skirts right past your thinly veiled threat and you sigh before tucking in his bandage properly.

"neither have you." you said pointedly before sighing, "animations. its an entry level position right now. but i also do personal projects on the side." you reply still as you clean up, moving around the apartment.

he leans ahead, intrigued to get to know more about you finally, "and you like it? your job i mean."

"well... its hectic yeah, sometimes too much to make me wonder if its all worth it." you shrug as you head to the kitchen and opened your fridge, "but i think everyone with a job thinks that at one point. so its normal. animation is something i loved so it evens out the frustration of work."

you put the tub of ice cream on the counter before fetching a spoon. as he watches from the couch he realises he never steps in your apartment further than the living room, only till the couch and then out. at first he was... simply keeping distance, the rational self in him telling him to keep himself as untangled as possible.

but now he wants to delve deep, to see your life, to see when you're happy— or sad, what you do when you have nothing better to do. its a curiosity he convinces himself, just that.

and even though he knows it dangerous to keep crossing the boundaries he set for himself, he can't help but say why not just this once? blind leap of faith, something that has always disappointed him, something he never does yet he still wants to try.

he gets up and walks in your kitchen and you gulp down the ice cream quickly before waving your hands to stop him and he immediately freezes, wondering if he made a mistake.

"red! your boots!" you pointed out with a grimace, that were caked with dust and mud, "i didn't say anything about them before because you're always hurt and in a hurry— but not in the kitchen please." you plead as politely as possible, you hoped you didn't come off as too nitpicky or high maintenance but you just can't stand shoes in your apartment.

for a minute he just stares, and you try to discern what he's feeling from those slits in his helmet. then he barks out a laugh, leaning a hand against the wall and doubling over.

"shit– my bad." he does not sound apologetic at all though, and your brows furrow as you fail to see how its so funny, "what?"

"nothing. you just—" he paused as he stifles another laugh, taking off his boots carefully before walking to the balcony and keeping them there. he walked back in the kitchen and leaned against the counter beside you, "i wouldn't have been offended even if you said that when i first came here."

he saw how bothered you looked to see him walking with his dirty boots in your apartment, like literally appalled and he just wonders how had you kept in that request for so long?

"it felt a bit wrong to ask a bleeding man to take off his shoes first." you shrugged before digging in the tub, licking the ice cream right off the spoon and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to not follow that action.

"if you don't mind me asking-" you began as you paused, pushing a stool towards him before sitting on one yourself, "you might. since this might be encroaching all that secret vigilante thing." you said hesitantly, giving him an unsure smile before looking away as you carefully worded the question.

"so do you know all the vigilantes? like personally?" you questioned and he released a breath because he honestly thought you'd ask about his identity and he'd have to leave, "like i do see the news time to time, hear things but you're the source so....?"

you looked genuinly curious, no ill intent. just someone who's curious about his life like that of a friend's.

he shuffled on his seat, clearing his throat and you feared you asked wrong, "its not necessary to answer of course."

"i know." he reassured quietly before shrugging, "yeah i do. our interests, kicking gotham's criminal's ass and keeping citizen safe aligns so yes i do know them." he explains as vaguely as possible, carefully wording it and you know it.

"so who's better?" you ask and he blinks.

"what? in who?"

"you and nightwing."

now he's the one who's appalled. the simple question makes him spiral to a whole world of overthinking. his ego might not be able to handle the unfavorable answer.

"wha— the hell is that question?" he scoffed and you shrugged, taking another spoon of ice cream, unbothered. "of course im better!"

"are you sure?"

he knows he doesn't need to take off the mask to get the glare through, you know he's glaring by the way you cheekily laugh, "geez what a fragile ego."

"what, you his fangirl or something?" he scowls and you heartily laugh at that, shaking your head.

"im no vigilante's fan, red. but you can't blame me for wondering you know?" you teasingly nudged his leg with your foot, "alright another question."

"since when did this become a one sided 20 questions?" he grumbled as he folded his arms, wishing for once he did not have the helmet on so he could actually glare at that innocently charming face.

"since you decided to be a little wuss." you cheekily retorted before leaning in towards him, taking the sleeve of your tshirt in your fingers, you rubbed the grime off his helmet. you don't know why but you liked to see it spotless.

while you went back to being unbothered, eating your ice cream like a fucking brat, his heart damn near exploded. did you just do that? it felt more on his skin than it was on the metallic helmet. he forgot to even breathe for a second, still processing— and then getting mildly irritated at the fact that somewhere in his heart he yearns for you to do it again. its stupid, he tells himself, someone he's known for a just a month— someone innocent.

again, painting himself as the darkness that would snuff out the light in you.

"don't do that." he said, sharper than intended, letting his own overthinking get him. you freeze, your hand suspended in air before you awkwardly yet quickly drop the spoon in the almost empty bucket and tuck your hair behind your ear.

"ah my bad."you said, and suddenly it was harder to smile. and he realised he did it again, pushed someone away again. its for the better he tells himself, this would have happened anyway.

"im sorry—"

"its fine." he cuts you off before getting up, "i should probably leave— city doesn't save itself now does it?"

you were a bit stunned, he hadn't acted like this yet in the times he's visited. it was unnerving to not know how to act, how to tackle this side of him because you didn't quite like the distance that suddenly found its way between you both. you know he is a vigilante, has enemies— tons of 'em, and there's always a good chance that prolonged association with him could get you wind up in all that. it could get messy, it could get dangerous. you wanted nothing to do with danger. you just wanted to lead a simple life which was already too much to ask from gotham.

"take care." and yet you called out behind him, even though he already disappeared. the idea that you somehow offended this new friend of yours, someone you had steadily grown to like— didn't sit quite well with you. you suppose he doesn't like to be touched, of course. that was a bit creepy maybe.

you sighed as you went back to kitchen, putting away everything. you push red to the back of your mind, convincing yourself with that shitty saying that— everything happens for the best.

its a pitiful attempt at consolation, but life moves on.

you sigh as you open the door to your apartment, taking off your heels before walking in. blind dates really don't work for you anymore, not that it ever did actually. you never click with the other person, and somehow they always turn out to be somewhat of an asshole.

today was yet another failed date, boring one. the man chipped away at your braincells one by one as he literally chattered away about his 'big shot position at that big shot firm'— you don't know what it was, you stopped paying attention twenty minutes in.

sometimes you blame yourself, that maybe your standards are too high, you're being the one who's too reserved or shallow— but then your father's voice rings in your ears, 'never ever in your life settle for someone who doesn't make you feel seen and heard from day one.' your parents really had set the bar high for you.

you went into your room and threw your purse on the bed before taking off your coat, it drizzled a bit. your hair's a bit damp but somehow it makes you look more pretty.

sigh, all that effort down the drain.

oh wait! you remembered you were supposed to call your friend, fill her in about about this disaster. you quickly dialed her number in, tapping your foot as you waited, your eyes mindlessly checking your nails.

"it didn't go well did it?" she groaned lightly into the phone and you huffed out a smile, she was so quick to catch on. not that it was hard to, you ended the date pretty quickly.

"yeah.. im sorry but god he was just— not it." you explained with a scrunch of your nose as you press the phone in between your ear and shoulder while taking off your bracelet.

"there's nothing to apologise for, if he ain't it, he ain't it. there's always more to choose from. endless fishes, pretty." she tries to weasel a joke and your lips quirk up fondly, of course she's trying to make her feel better.

"im not sad so you can drop it. he wasn't an eye candy either that I'd feel bad."

"he was loaded."

"i'd be too one day." you retort with a chuckle pretending to be offended when she snorts. you get to your earrings, unclasping one and you gather it in your hand, about to keep it on your vanity—

CRASH!

you jolted, almost dropping your earring and unfortunately dropping your phone too. you cursed loudly, that phone is really gonna die on you at this point.

suddenly two sharp knocks rattled through your house, and they sounded less woody. they came from the balcony you realised. you hurriedly pick up your phone before running to your living room.

that sounded hurried. he never even knocks! but why was he literally banging on the glass?! its not even past midnight—

"hey are you okay?!"

"uh- i— yeah im—"

your breath catches in your throat as you stop dead in your tracks to see the glass sliding doors of your balcony with a bloody handprint, really selling the horror element right now. red hood was knelt down and you could see how hard he was heaving— his body was literally shaking with each breath he took.

your voice closed up in your throat for a second, all the air vanishing into the black hole that suddenly appeared in your lungs.

blood. blood. blood. blood—

you blink your eyes to tear yourself out of it, taking an inaudible deep breath. small wounds and trickle of blood do not unsettle you, not anymore. but anything beyond a cut, beyond mere drops of blood— it brings back the broken little girl in you.

"i— i'll call back yeah?" you hurriedly whispered before hanging up your phone, throwing it on the couch before rushing to slide open the door.

"red? red— fuck are you—" you bite your tongue as you physicslly stop the stupid question from getting blurted out as you knelt down, your hands immediately on his shoulder as you tilted your head down.

christ— even his helmet has a fucking crack.

"red? red say something please." all you got was his haggered breathing and a lousy gesture to the couch, you heard him mumble something but it sounded more like a grunt.

you pull back and your gaze scrutinize him, well as best as it can in the minimum light provided. he is bruised black and blue, you don't see it over all that armour and jacket, which by the way, is ripped, he is also losing blood. way too much.

blood. blood. blood. blood—

"alright no pressure at all." you whispered, voice tight with anxiety as you hawl him up on his feet, his arm over your shoulder while your hand held his waist.

"ugh— easy!" he scolded in his haggard voice and both of you almost stumble due to his overpowering weight on you.

"im trying!" you hiss back, taking a deep breath as you drag him inside. you were gentler, but really the situation had you freaked out, you were almost blanked out and mostly working on autopilot. "don't you die in my apartment. i can't handle the fucking gcpd and batman on my ass." that was your attempt at some humour. to lessen the burden of your anxiety or his, you weren't really sure at the moment.

he had noticed your attire, even in the moment of haze and fatigue, he noticed the singular earring hanging from your ear, dressed up with make up on rather than the oversized he's used to see. it doesn't take a genius to guess it was for a date. maybe that put him in an even more foul mood.

but then he realises the time, its early to be back home from a dinner date. he visits at ungodly hours but today, due to unsavory altercation, he had to turn up so early and unexpected. so he summarizes, all on his own, the date didn't go quite well.

and despite the pain he is in, it puts a fucking smirk on his face. he even leans more on you, he knows he would need to unpack whatever he's feeling, but thats a tomorrow problem.

you slowly put him down on the sofa and stagger back, panting heavily as you put a hand on your hip. that took out a lot of energy from you and you realised just how inactive you are, which is concerning considering you're a citizen of Gotham. you need to be prepared to run for the hills at the slightest hint for danger.

hearing him cough snaps you out of your reverie and you immediately get about your apartment, closing the draps, turning on the light before dashing to the bathroom. you really, really hope its not something out of your limited experience. you don't even care that he ghosted you for two weeks— you just want him alive, probably intact. you honestly do not have the stomach— or the mental state for something bloodier than a graze right now.

but surprise, surprise— its a wound on the shoulder. stab or bullet— you don't wanna know.

"jesus fucking christ red.." you whisper, your skin going a little pale and green as you look at his blood seeping under his hand that he has kept pressed on the wound. "is that— oh shit—"

"yes it is. now come here with that." he sounded more firm and annoyed than he ever did in the frequent interactions you've had with him, and that is understandable. he sounds like he's on his last breath with all the panting and huffing.

"right. sorry." you immediately walk and stand beside him, running your mind through whatever red told you about it. luckily, red had filled you in about different wounds, since you were currently playing nurse. he had mentioned shoulder wounds, hurts like hell and bleeds a lot but it can be patched rather easily, his words.

he lays himself down and you drag the coffee table closer to sit on it, your hands rummaging through the kit which had expanded. you may have had restocked and bought more— obviously for this certain vigilante.

"okay so uh— clean?" you repeat the steps to yourself as you watch him remove the small cloth from his shoulder— you almost puke from how messy it looks. its one thing taking care of cuts and bruises and its another thing to take a damn bullet out of a bleeding, ugly wound. "then remove the—" your brows raise as realisation dawns on you.

for fucks sake you can't fucking take the bullet out—

"you can. you can." he was facing you, and somehow you could feel the resolute stare through the helmet, "i know it'll be hard— but you can—" seeing him wince makes you gulp down whatever doubts you have down to your gut. let it worsen.

you let the adrenaline take over, push the tremors away that threaten to wreck your body. hide. hide. hide.

"if i kill you accidentally don't you fucking dare haunt me." you murmur to yourself as you look for a pair of tweezers, the jab makes him crack a laugh enough to hurt and he instantly winces again.

you clean the blood off first before grabbing the tweezers, taking your sweet time to drag it out— but then he grabs your wrist and pulls it slowly towards his shoulder. "eyes on here. focus, you can do it sweetheart." he murmured, and for a second he even sounded okay. you almost believed this all to be a facade.

"oh god—" you grimace as your fingers shook around the tweezers, you wished he went to some legal doctor who had actual forceps and all those medical instruments, instead of tweezers, but vigilantes are nuts. you have come to understand and accept that. "i will kill you if you die i swear— im so mad at you—" your quivering grumbles simply amuse him more, knowing its a way to distract you enough to dig in and take the bullet out.

and you did, after all the gagging and hurling a myriad of insults at him— you finally did. you slouched back as if you were the one that endured that pain.

"sweets you still need to stich, ya' know."

"no im not doing that." you snap as you sit up again, "i dont even know how to— do you honestly want to die??" you gape at him in utter exasperation, wanting to smash the remaining of his helmet.

"honestly? it sounds better than hearing all that noise from your mouth." he retorts with a scoff and you scoff back at his audacity, "i fucking helped you— and that's how it is huh? when the hell are you going to get proper care from someone who knows their shit?" you scold, your eyes momentarily shifting to the open wound.

seriously what the hell are you doing with your life?

"for that I'd need to go to someone i trust wouldn't yap away about me to my enemies or worse, tattle to the media 'bout me." he stated as he tried to shift, probably uncomfortable in the small couch where his legs fell off the other side. "and you haven't yet done that. so, you're the better choice here."

your lips simply pull into an annoyed frown, looking him up and down with clear exasperation. "should have left the damn bullet in..." you muttered to yourself, annoyed at the fact that his words got to you again. he may sound rational and logical right now as he wants to, you know the underlying meaning. he has come to trust you a bit— and his emotionally constipated self wouldn't accept that.

the stitching was done.

you looked far more exhausted than the poor guy who had to help you navigate through the steps and endure the pain.

you leaned forward with your arms resting on your knees, head dipped forward as you tried to calm yourself down. you've never been good at processing things, your mind has a habit of shoving everything in a box and let it rot in the depths of your mind.

"you okay?" he asked quietly, poking your arm with his gloved finger to get your attention and you blinked before nodding. "yeah. yeah of course."

you took a deep breath as you began gathering everything, while he simply stared at you. he knew for a normal person, seeing blood— a lot of it, can be overwhelming. he lets the guilt wash over him, lets his mind question his heart.

was he ruining you in his selfishness to see you? how long would you tolerate it till you break? how long till you kick him out of your life?

"red?"

"hm?"

"you'll pay for my new couch right?" though you weren't looking, he could see the tug in your lips that you were trying to hide. and just like that, he let himself be selfish.

"why do i have a feeling you'll buy one of those ugly couches that cost a fortune?"

"great idea, red." you smirked dryly and he scoffed, his eyes travelling down that red dress of yours and he poked the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing as he debated whether to thrust himself in your personal life or not.

the glint of the earring caught his eye, like a glare straight to his heart.

fuck it.

"so how was the date?" cool, calm, nonchalant.

your brows furrowed for a moment and that was when you registered the weight on your ear, and looked down at yourself with a soft huff, "right. nothing escapes your eye, detective, even when you're dying." you take a tissue and cover your hands with it before taking off the earring.

"it isn't late yet. so i guess it was some boring prick hm?" he teased smugly and you raised a brow at him, turning your body slightly.

"maybe i just like to stay safe and return home before gotham's street turns rabid. it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with my date."

"but it is."

"it wasn't."

"that so?"

the illuminated slits of his helmet stared at you, and you could feel the amusement and challenge oozing off of him. you maintained the stare, but something about his confidence made your skin tingle and warm.

"kay fine! he was just like any other arrogant corporate asshole." you relented as you broke the stare, brows furrowing as you got up, his lips pulling into a triumphant, cheshire smile. again, this was something to be unpacked tomorrow.

"why'd you even go?" you rounded the table as you threw the bloodied cottons and clothes, walking to the bathroom and turned the tap on to scrub your hands clean. you angled your face away so he doesn't see the momentary quiver of your lips at the sight of blood pooling in the basin as water sloughed it off.

"why does anyone go on dates, red?" you quipped with a sigh, "besides it was a blind date. i was just trying my luck." you unknowingly dug your nails too hard while scratching the blood away, "which, like always, sucks."

you wrung your hands dry before patting it dry on the towel, clenching your hands under the cloth to calm the tremors. you cannot possibly let him see that, you won't. your weakness is your own secret, like his identity is his, and the mere possibility that someone knows even a peek about it... it rattles you deeply.

you maintain the facade. thats all you've ever done.

but in a way, him and you were alike, and he recognised the eyes that didn't seem as bright, the subtle signs of putting up a front. he noticed it, the signs transparent to him.

"do you do this?" you questioned, diverting the attention back to him, which he noticed but let it slide. "dates i mean."

"sure." he shrugged, "i mean i do have all the time in the world to prance around gotham with a beauty in my arms." he added, his tone turning sarcastic and you rolled your eyes, the corner of your lips twitching up.

"come on don't be shy. you must have dated a ton of people in your circle. superheroes and vigilantes." you tacked with a grin as you walked in the kitchen, rummaging around cabinets and fridge. you let out an exaggerated dreamy sigh, "i wish i could date them. just once. way better than those asshole i get."

his gaze narrowed while his lips pulled into a thin line. them? who's them? he is one of them too. you could date him too, he thought quite pettily before freezing up. where the fuck is his mind going?

"what the hell are you even doing there?" he called out, he couldn't hide the irate in his voice but you brushed it off. "to feed your dying ass. you might be built like a truck but even you would need something in you after all that blood."

he couldn't see much except your back and hear the sound of knife cutting against the board. he knows he shouldn't, but he can't help his eyes lingering on your back, how the dress fits your body.

"a sandwich will work right?"

"mhm."

to add fuel, the domesticity of this sudden situation has him by the throat. his mind lost, voiceless in his daydream and admiration. he may be a tough guy with walls no one could ever break, even land a scratch— but deep in the pitt lays his heart that is soft and craving. he may never tell a soul, but the thoughts of loving and being loved, no matter how far fetched it sounds, it always tugged at his soul. the idea of sharing a life, the idea of simply caring, of giving— he has a soft spot for the niceties of life that he knows he doesn't deserve.

"red?" you're holding the sandwich infront of him and he snaps out of his haze, looking at the plate on the table and then at you. he simply looked back and forth, and you sighed at the point he was getting at.

"i'll be in my room so you can have the privacy to eat." you murmured before putting down a glass of water with a pair of wet wipes and walking away to your room, closing the door.

for a moment he simply stared at the plate, not sure if he should eat it. things are getting too familiar between them, too easy— too nice. and he has a bad habit of getting attached. he has an even worse habit of getting his heart broken.

he looks back at your door, the quiet shuffling audible to his ears.

but reasons unknown to him, he takes off his helmet.

he doesn't let his lips smile, doesn't let his eyes soften. doesn't let his heart get smothered when he bites into the sandwich. doesn't let his eyes linger on the silver earring. doesn't let his eyes imagine how you'd have looked with both of them on, all pretty and mesmerizing.

he doesn't.

by the time you walk out, he's gone.

the following night comes and you don't wait for him.

morning comes and your eyes are barely working, but your sight isn't that blurry to not see the small red box on your coffee table. you paused and froze, hands slowly taking it and pulling the satin ribbon off.

a pair of dark ruby earrings stared back at you, intricately designed like it was made for the royals. and a tiny note with a quite neat handwriting.

this is an apology for all the inconvenience caused. and a thank you for the sandwich.

red.

p.s you looked beautiful.

and just like that he sweeped the ground right off your feet.

reblogs are appreciation! :D

taglist : @bmyva1entine @itzmeme

[the-halloween-jack]

DC ✢ What scares them and how you help them cope

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

B R U C E W A Y N E

Bruce, for as long as he can remember, has always suffered in silence. A perpetual brooder.

People have come and gone in his life, but he has never been comfortable opening up to them.

And for the longest time, you were no exception.

Though, as time passed, and an intimate familiarity grew, you began noticing a shift in his behaviour. Where he normally would have isolated himself in the Batcave, overburdened himself with his work, he instead began seeking you out.

In those moments, he would gently approach you, and you would offer him comfort. That was when he finally opened up about his deepest fear, losing the people he loves, especially you.

He is terrified that, despite all his vigilance, one day he will be unable to protect those closest to him and the thought of losing anyone, of them being taken from him, is something he cannot bear to face.

He still does not show his vulnerability easily, but when you are there, he is not as afraid to let his guard down, even if only for a brief moment.

He will never admit it, but he is always so grateful for your presence. Whether it is a quiet moment holding your hand, your steady voice in his ear, or simply leaning against you, he finds comfort. He lets you sit with him, no words necessary, knowing you will stay with him.

D I C K G R A Y S O N

Dick has always been the life of the party, the one who could crack a joke to break any tension in the room, always for the benefit of others.

But as you spent more time with him, you began to notice how he would sometimes go quiet, how his smile fell a bit too easily when he thought no one was looking.

You would see the insecurity flicker across his face; like he was afraid he was not good enough. He was afraid that one day, he would let you down, it would push you to walk away from him and he would be alone.

On the rare occasions that Dick opened up about his fears, it was never in big, dramatic moments. It was during quiet, vulnerable times when you were curled up on the couch, or after a mission where he had felt everything had gone wrong.

He would admit to you, softly, that he worries he is not enough for the people he cares about. That maybe, despite all his effort, he could fail them.

When you reassure him, he would brush it off with a laugh, but deep down, it comforts him more than he lets on. And from that moment, he tries harder to show you just how much he values you.

J A S O N T O D D

Jason’s tough exterior had always seemed nearly impenetrable, to everyone who knew him and you had not been an exception to this rule.

When you first met him, Jason did not want to let you close. He pushed you away. Any attempt at trying to comfort him was futile.

Beneath this façade, there is a deep-rooted fear of being forgotten and unimportant, as though his death had been just another part of Gotham’s tragic history, another statistic.

Slowly, you began to perceive beyond his mask of resentment. During late-night conversations, when he allowed his frustration to ebb away, Jason would reveal just how much he fears that Gotham — or worse, his family — will not remember him as the person he is now, the person behind his carefully constructed veil, the boy he once was.

When Jason lets his walls down, it is never in public. It is solely within quiet, private moments with you, his eyes soft and vulnerable in a manner only you have ever known.

Over the years, you have learnt that showing patience and care, letting him know you are there even when he is at his lowest, is one of the most important ways to help him feel like he matters, to prove you see him for everything that he is, to prove you love the man beneath the veil. 

T I M D RA K E

Tim has always been the strategist, the planner; constantly running scenarios in his mind to ensure things go right.

However, with that constant need for control comes an intense fear of failure and not living up to the expectations he has placed on himself.

Early on, when you spent time with him, you noticed how tightly wound he always was; always thinking, and nearly always overthinking.

There were nights when he would finally collapse into bed, eyes wide with worry, unable to rest. You would feel this unease radiate from him throughout the night.

Tim never truly usually let his fear show, but one night, after a particularly difficult mission where he felt responsible for things that had gone wrong, he finally admitted how much pressure he felt to always be perfect.

You comforted him with a soft smile, telling him that it was okay to not have all the answers and that he, like everyone else, was allowed to make mistakes. You helped him realise the unrealistic expectations he had placed on himself. 

Since then, Tim still overthinks, he still plans, but, at the very least, he has learned, with you by his side, that it is okay to let go sometimes.

D A M I A N W A Y N E (Aged up as Batman)

Damian was fierce and proud, he never outwardly showed weakness if he could help it. His fear was simple, he was terrified that someone would see through this, that he would be perceived as feeble or unworthy of his name.

When you first met him, he wore his arrogance and pride like armour, it was designed to keep people at a distance.

However, as time progressed, you began to notice cracks in this façade; moments where he looked at his family and felt like he was not measuring up.

Damian never directly opened up, but you saw it in the way his shoulders tensed when his father praised others or when he failed at something that he believed should have been effortless.

One day, you found him alone, practising relentlessly in the training room. His frustration was palpable, and when he finally stopped, he turned to you, admitting woefully that he was afraid he would never be as good as his family and never live up to his father’s legacy.

You had been shocked, you had yearned for him to be open with you and had already resigned to the fact it likely would not happen. Despite this, you were quick to reassure him, reminding him that his worth was not measured by perfection, but by who he strived to be.

Over time, he began to trust you more, slowly letting you see the person beneath his well-constructed bravado. Though he would never admit it, your support meant the world to him.

C L A R K K E N T

Clark, the ever-hopeful, never-giving-up superhero, covertly harboured a deep fear of losing control — specifically, of accidentally hurting those he loves with his less-than-ordinary abilities.

His fear was embedded in the idea that his immense capabilities could go terribly astray, causing harm to someone he holds dear.

It is a quiet fear, one he does not often voice, as he does not want to burden you with it. But you can sense it in the way he is constantly holding back, constantly choosing to act in ways that minimise risk, even if it means sacrificing your mutual need for physical affection. 

One evening, after a particularly difficult escapade, where unbeknownst to you, his powers had nearly hurt an innocent bystander, you found him standing in front of the window, his hands clenched in silent frustration. He had been bitterly reminded of how dangerous he could be. If he lacked control for even the briefest of moments, you could be lost to him forever. 

You walked up behind him with the intention of loosening his hands with your own. At first, you made no impression on his unyielding frame, but eventually, he melted into your touch and let you intertwine your fingers. You gently asked him about it, and he admitted his fear, his voice softer than usual.

At this you embraced him, hoping you were not pushing any boundaries after this particular admission. You let him know that you trusted him entirely and that you believed he had an unwavering ability to protect, despite the weight of his fear.

From that night on, while Clark still remained cautious and vigilant, he knew that you were there to support him and, at the very least, you were not afraid of him. 

This is my first-ever attempt at a Headcanon, so any advice would be much appreciated <3

[saddleseatollie]

I said that I was gonna make a post about Hans' side of the Hansry romance so here we go (buckle up because this will be a very long post):

First off, I wanna talk about his responses to all the heart/romantic dialogue options throughout the game.

I find these dialogue choices to be pretty interesting in general because it's SO easy to read them as completely platonic, which I imagine to be quite intentional. Two bros acknowledging that they care about each other, what's special about that?

Except their friendship isn't normal. Henry is Hans' page and bodyguard. Hans is essentially his boss, and Henry is duty bound to follow him everywhere, save him when he's in trouble.

What these dialogue options establish is that Henry doesn't rescue Hans because it's his job. He does it because he wants to.

I simply cannot stress enough how important it is for Hans to hear that from Henry. To know that he is not forcing Henry into anything. He's not just Henry's boss but also a noble, and that puts him in a position of power over him that he probably struggles with to some degree.

Throughout this game we see more of the divide between "Lord Capon of Pirkstein" and simply "Hans". When he breaks down his walls with Henry and becomes simply Hans, it's because he's letting him in. He doesn't do that with anyone else.

So why is it that Hans' responses to the romance dialogues are so...unromantic? Does he not realize his feelings for Henry yet? Does he not accept them?

No. I think that even by For Whom the Bell Tolls (the end of which being the first opportunity for romance dialogue) Hans has not only recognized his feelings for Henry but accepted them.

When? Honestly there are so many possible answers to that question I'm not even going to try (personally I like to think he spent the majority of his time in the cells at Trosky just thinking about him and Henry so maybe then).

"But Ollie! Why, then, are you saying that Hans' responses were platonic?" I hear you asking.

Because Hans isn't stupid. I'm not 100% sure what the punishment for homosexuality by the law was in 15th century Bohemia but I can guarantee it was very bad. I'm not a history buff but google tells me it ranged from burning at the stake to castration and exile. Not only that but remember that Bohemia at that time was ruled by the Holy Roman Empire, which was still a Catholic Empire circa 1403 and would remain that way for another century. Catholics at the time (and some groups even to this day) viewed sodomy (officially defined as any form of "unnatural sexual acts" including but not limited to homosexuality as the word itself refers to anal sex) as a mortal sin. Basically meaning that the near-universal stance of homosexuality at the time would be that homosexual acts meant burning in Hell for eternity.

All this to say that while I believe that Hans himself has come to terms with his feelings, he recognizes that no one can ever find out about them.

So he tries his absolute hardest to play the role of "best friend" and outwardly pretend to have only the most platonic of feelings towards Henry.

And yet. And yet. Hans loves Henry. He loves him so fucking much even while knowing they can realistically never be together. But Hans is a dreamer. We see that from him a lot, actually. He dreams about a world where nobles well and truly take care of their subjects, where towns aren't raided and burned to the ground for war and profit. It's no stretch to imagine he also dreams of a world where he and Henry can be together.

And then Hans is surprise-engaged against his will and his dreams are promptly smashed against the rocks.

I mean this is his reaction to hearing the news.

He says it's because he wanted to wait to get married, to live a life of adventure before settling down. And while I'm sure that's part of it, in the context of a romanced Hans this is him realizing that he really can't ever be with Henry. Hans might be a serial womanizer (overcompensating much?) but he's no adulterer.

Look in my lovely little headcanon where everything is wonderful and beautiful and works out, do they stay together? Yes, absolutely. But realistically, I don't think it's possible. Their relationship is doomed to fail before it even begins. It's a classic example of love simply not being enough.

And that reality is simply too much, so Hans does as he always does, pretends none of it means anything at all and nothing has changed. He'll never love her as he does Henry and that's that.

And then the siege happens, and Henry volunteers for a suicide mission and is probably going to die and Hans is starving.

Hunger and Despair.

Hans is starving. Not just for food or drink but for life and love and Henry.

Hans has always been prone to impulsivity, to acting on every desire. He's shone amazing restraint, all things considered, up until that point. He loves Henry and he feels he'll die of sorrow without him.

Think about that for a moment.

When he tells Henry the tale of Lancelot and Galehaut he puts himself in the place of Galehaut, who died from grief and sorrow over the loss of his lover.

He fears he'll die if Henry doesn't return. Not of starvation. Not at the hands of a Prague soldier.

Of grief and sorrow.

He is so, so tired of holding back. Of pretending. He wants Henry, he needs Henry. Not as a friend or a protector or a squire but as some strange, lovely mix of all three and more.

Then Henry places his hand over Hans' and tells him everything will be alright and Hans realizes, maybe for the first time, maybe not, that Henry may feel the same as he.

And that tiny little spark of hope is enough to make him act. He kisses Henry out of sheer terror and desperation and longing.

Audentes Fortuna Iuvat.

Fortune favors the bold.

It's time to be bold.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

With his romance with Lavellan, Solas learned a horrific truth—that him simply as a humble man was enough to be lovable. He had been plied out of the Fade by Mythal because of her need for him, and out of devotion, he became something more and dreadful for himself, for her. And she never reciprocated that devotion with the same intensity. He spent millennia fighting for her as a thing he detested—a man of war and death, a being whose mortal body imbued him with innate qualities and emotions that would further twist his Wisdom nature. He was producing the very poisons that would normally corrupt a spirit by virtue of [Being a Person]. The external influences now harbored inside him.

But Lavellan showed him. That being you are, the one that wished to ponder and reminisce of spirits, who valued liberty and freedom and knowledge and the wry observation? That was enough. That was always enough. But he can’t accept it, because millennia of being Fen Harel, being devoted to Mythal and her cause.. to sunder it from himself would feel like a magnificent loss. He has been that for so long, is there anything yet truly left of the Wisdom spirit that once was?

Not only that, but given corporeality, Solas is compelled by the operant [If I can, I must]. He CAN do something about the Veil, so he will. If he doesn’t, then he is forsaking the memory of those he destroyed with his choice. He is forsaking his own principles. To do nothing in the face of injustice and cruelty is a sin he cannot bear.

He comes to the Inquisition as a “humble apostate”, both as disguise and because in his de-powered state he is of little greater use (if he had greater power I’m certain he would have nudged the Inquisition toward their goals). This is a costume he is wearing, or so he tells himself. He exists to advise, to suggest, to subtly direct toward more peaceful and humanitarian and spirit-friendly directives. He operates as something reminiscent of his former [Wisdom] spirit state.

And Lavellan grows to love it, to appreciate it. She grows to appreciate [Solas as Wisdom]. That part of him, the part of him that he has put aside for thousands upon thousands of years, though his nature craves to return to it. Without his ability to be Fen’Harel, it is pretty much all he has. And oh, this mayfly mortal born of a “forsaken ignorant people”, she is drawn to him, seeing him as a [man], seeing him at his (comparatively) weakest, most ineffectual state and finding it pleasing. Desirable. [Enough].

Enough. He is enough as Solas, simply Solas. But if it is enough for Lavellan, why was it not enough for Mythal? No, no, there was a reason. There was a war. War requires more of people. It requires limits to be broken and terrible mantles to be donned.

But Lavellan is fighting an existential war against Corypheus. And she does not demand more of him. She values what little he is able to provide—guidance, insight, his magic. It is [Enough].

We Solavellans have dissected and discussed at length about the nature of the relationship being one built on deceit, the moral and ethical quandary of love cultivated under a false identity. Veilguard has confirmed the existential struggle and quiet agony that Solas experienced by transitioning into [Being]. While Lavellan should of course had been informed of his ‘true identity’ before falling in love with him, an argument could still be made that Fen’Harel is not his true identity but a long-worn mask that he wishes he could ditch. The man Lavellan fell in love with is who he should be, who he wants to be. Far more underpowered than he’s comfortable with, sure, but the personality for certain. Just a person giving advice, discussing at length about topics he enioys, exploring memories and ruminating over them, smirking over small verbal sleights of hand and sly tricks, engaging in philosophical debates. All of that is already there, that is who he is in peacetime. The man has known war and conflict for so long that he has mentally split Solas and Fen’Harel as two people, because he needed to, but they are the same. Solas who wields the martial prowess of Fen’Harel. Fen’Harel who possesses the wry levity and artistic sentimentality of Solas. SOLAS YOU ARE BOTH AND MORE THAN THESE TWO HALVES.

[rorygilmoresbisexuallighting]

The Daddy's Little Toy author situation just goes to show how anti ideology has hurt people. Like an author is in jail for fiction fucking fiction! From what I know the author is placed in prison or is being held in jail awaiting sentencing currently. For from what I'm gathering a completely fictional story. You don't have to like what she's writing to think that people shouldn't go to jail over fiction. That the thing. Also who the hell gets to decide what is and isn't simply vent or awareness spreading and what is and isn't titillating. Also many trauma survivors create vent art that may sexualize their trauma but it's still vent art. I understand Australia's free speech laws are different than America's but this is the same country that's forcing people to upload their ID to access any social media site essentially. You don't have to like the story to essentially say "you shouldn't go to jail for that". Fiction is not and never will be equivalent to actual CSAM. And supporting obscenity laws will never be for the benefit of the public. And it's harmful to equate real CSAM with fucking fiction. You cannot be anti-censorship for fiction and then draw the line at things you don't like . Like imagine if your horny Sebaciel fanart put you in JAIL under CSAM charges. With the same cell as real people who actually exploited real children or wanted to look for and use real exploited children. "Stop imposing your American views on everything!". How is it imposing my American views to say that free speech should be a right for everyone not just people on America and that thought crime isn't real and shouldn't be normalized. Studies don't show a causal link between consuming dark romance media and actually committing abusive acts or consuming fictional depictions of CSA and actually harming people if anything artistic expression can get out some pent up frustration. People with intrusive thoughts may have intrusive sexual thoughts about inappropriate things and write them down what if those are found and it's considered CSAM even if it's fiction? Like thought crime as a concept should not be normalized. Fiction is fiction. I've only seen the snipbits going around social media. But like I hated it thought it was gross so I refused to listen to it anymore and went about my day. No one should go to jail over fiction yes even if that fiction has problematic themes. For example I am. Trans person I don't think anyone should go to jail for writing a transphobic book. I might hate the author but I won't advocate for their arrest and imprisonment. Like I've seen and stumbled upon much horny Sebaciel fanart and I don't think any of those artists should go to jail or be on a register with people who've actually exploited or aides in the exploitation of REAL CHILDREN. Obscenity laws are bad things and we shouldn't normalize them. From what I've heard the book doesn't even talk about sexual contact between an adult and minor it mentions the audit man listing I've the character when they were a minor but many non-banned dark romance books have that and the writers aren't jailed. Obscenity laws are bad. No one should be in jail over fiction.