#maybe I shouldn't call it that just yet...

[wonbyyou]

Monster | lee heeseung

synopsis: you want heeseung to be rough with you, he does.

You were perched on the edge of his massive mahogany desk, the wood cool even through the thin silk of your dress, watching him pace. Outside these soundproofed walls, he was a storm—Enha syndicate’s youngest pakkyu, the heir apparent whose name made hardened men flinch.

Whispers spoke of knuckles scarred from brass knuckles, of rivals disappearing into the Han River’s murky depths. But here, with you? He moved with the deliberate grace of a panther circling its most treasured possession.

His gaze, usually sharp enough to cut glass, softened whenever it landed on you. You were his sanctuary, his secret weakness, the only soul who saw the tremor in his hands after a long night, the only one he brought gardenias for, their white petals stark against the dark velvet of his couch.

He’d fallen first, fallen hardest. A chance encounter in a rain-slicked alley where you’d been foolishly brave, facing down a debt collector harassing an old vendor. Heeseung had intervened, not out of charity, but because your defiant spark, even drenched and shaking, had struck him like lightning.

He’d pursued you with a terrifying, single-minded intensity disguised as old-world romance—handwritten poems slipped into your bag, chauffeur-driven cars appearing just as the rain started, velvet boxes containing jewels that felt too heavy, too dangerous. His love was an opulent cage, suffocatingly gentle.

Especially in bed. He worshipped your body like sacred ground, all slow kisses, reverent touches, whispered devotions that made you feel cherished… and achingly unfulfilled.

Tonight, the frustration simmered beneath your skin. He’d been distracted all evening, fielding hushed, urgent calls, his jaw tightening with each interruption. The barely leashed violence he wore like a second suit was palpable, vibrating in the air.

Yet, when he looked at you, it melted into that infuriating tenderness. You wanted the storm. You craved the monster everyone else feared.

"Heeseung," your voice was deliberately light, cutting through the low murmur of his latest phone conversation. You swung your legs, letting the silk dress ride scandalously high on your thighs. His gaze snapped to you, the phone momentarily forgotten. You saw the flicker—possessiveness, hunger, instantly banked.

"Does talking to Jungwon always make you look like you want to break something?" You tilted your head, a slow, challenging smile playing on your lips. "Or someone?"

He ended the call abruptly, his expression unreadable. "Don't talk about him," he said, his voice low. He walked towards you, stopping mere inches away. His hand lifted, not to strike, but to gently trace the line of your jaw. "You shouldn't provoke me, baby."

"That's just it," you breathed, leaning into his touch but keeping your eyes defiant. "Maybe I want to. Maybe I'm tired of you treating me like spun glass." You slid off the desk, standing tall before him, pressing your body flush against his. You could feel the hard ridge of his arousal beneath his impeccably tailored trousers, the tension coiling in his muscles. "Scared you'll actually feel something?"

His hand dropped from your jaw. The shift was instantaneous. The softness vanished from his eyes, replaced by a dark, predatory intensity that sent a thrill of pure fear and desire straight to your core. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "You have no idea what you're asking for," he warned, his voice dropping into a dangerous rasp.

"Show me," you dared, your voice trembling slightly despite yourself. "Or are you all talk, baby?"

That did it. The word baby, usually a term of affection, dripped with mocking challenge. He moved faster than you could blink. One hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back with a sharp, delicious sting that made you gasp.

The other ripped the delicate silk strap of your dress, tearing it down your arm and exposing your breast. No gentle worship now. His mouth crashed down onto your nipple, hot and demanding. He sucked hard, drawing the peak deep into his mouth, his tongue flicking ruthlessly against the sensitive bud.

Then he bit down, not enough to break skin, but a sharp, possessive pressure that arched your back and tore a ragged cry from your lips. Pleasure-pain sparked like fire along your nerves. "Fuck! Heeseung!"

He lifted his head, his lips glistening, his eyes burning into yours. "You wanted rough, baby?" he snarled, his voice thick with unleashed desire.

"You wanted the monster?" Without ceremony, he spun you around, bending you forcefully over the polished surface of his desk. Ledgers and a sleek laptop clattered to the floor.

He shoved the ruined silk dress up around your waist, his fingers tearing at the flimsy barrier of your panties before roughly pushing them aside. His fingers plunged into your wet heat, finding you drenched, swollen, aching. He growled again, a sound of pure satisfaction.

"Look at you," he hissed, working his fingers brutally inside you, curling them against that sweet spot. "Begging for it like a whore. So fucking wet just from me biting your pretty tit." His words were harsh, degrading, stripping away the cherished princess persona, and the raw honesty of them, the ownership in them, made your inner muscles clench desperately around his invading fingers.

He withdrew his fingers, slick with your arousal, and smeared it across your lips. "Taste yourself," he commanded, pushing his fingers into your mouth.

You sucked them obediently, the musky tang of your own desire mingling with the faint salt of his skin, the degradation sending another bolt of heat to your core. He unfastened his trousers, the sound of his zipper loud in the sudden silence. The thick, heavy head of his cock pressed against your soaked entrance.

"Tell me you want it," he demanded, grinding himself against your slick folds, teasing but not entering.

"Please, Heeseung," you gasped, writhing against the desk. "Fuck me! Please!"

With a groan, he slammed into you in one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch was immense, breathtaking, driving the air from your lungs in a choked sob. He didn't pause, didn't gentle. He set a punishing rhythm, moving his hips, driving you hard against the unforgiving wood with each deep plunge.

The desk creaked ominously. His hand tangled back in your hair, holding you down, keeping your face pressed against the cool mahogany. His other hand snaked around your hip, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, relentless circles.

"You take my cock so well," he grunted, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, each one jolting your body. "Like your greedy little cunt was made for it. Made for me." He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "Cum for me, you filthy little thing. Cum all over my cock."

The combination of his brutal fucking, the harsh words vibrating against your skin, and the skilled assault on your clit was too much. Your orgasm detonated, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your vision whited out and your body convulsed wildly around his invading length, milking him desperately.

He felt your inner muscles clamp down and roared, thrusting even harder, losing his rhythm in pure, animalistic need. "Fuck! Yes! Squeeze me, you perfect slut!" Just as the last tremors of your climax subsided, he abruptly pulled his cock from your clenching heat.

Before you could register the sudden emptiness, his hands were on your shoulders, hauling you off the desk and forcing you down onto your knees before him. His cock, glistening with your combined slickness, stood thick and furious, veins pulsing.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice ragged, breathless. His hand fisted in your hair again, tilting your face up. "Stick out that pretty tongue." You obeyed, trembling, your tongue darting out. His eyes, dark with primal possession, locked onto yours as he gripped his cock at the base.

With a final, deep moan, thick ropes of pearly white cum erupted from him, splattering hotly across your tongue, your lips, your cheeks. You kept your mouth open, your tongue out, accepting every drop as it painted your face. A tear, born of overwhelming sensation, tracked through the mess on your cheek.

The silence that followed was broken only by Heeseung's harsh breathing. He looked down at you, kneeling before him, his release marking your face, your hair tousled, your dress torn. The terrifying fury in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dawning horror, then a profound, aching tenderness that made your heart clench. He sank to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as they gently cradled your face. He wiped at the tears and cum with his thumbs, his touch impossibly soft now.

"Oh, baby," he breathed, his voice cracking, thick with remorse and adoration. "My sweet, brave, foolish girl. Look what I did." He pressed fervent, apologetic kisses to your forehead, your eyelids, your sticky cheeks. "Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I lost myself… seeing you want… that…" He couldn't even articulate the roughness he’d unleashed.

You caught his frantic hands, bringing them to your lips and kissing his knuckles. "Don't," you whispered, your voice hoarse. You met his terrified gaze, a small, satisfied smile touching your swollen lips. "It was perfect. Exactly what I wanted. What I needed." You leaned forward, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself and him on your tongue. "You're my monster."

He shuddered, pulling you fiercely against him, burying his face in your neck. His arms locked around you like iron bands, possessive, protective, reverent. "Always yours," he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled, thick with emotion.

"Only ever yours. My perfect, dangerous girl." He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you away from the wreckage of his desk towards the plush couch where the gardenias waited, their scent a fragile promise against the lingering musk of sex and power.

He cleaned your face with trembling hands and a damp cloth fetched from the adjoining bathroom, his touch infinitely gentle once more, punctuated by soft kisses and whispered apologies mixed with fierce declarations.

Later, curled against his chest on the velvet, the city's distant pulse the only sound, you traced the sharp line of his jaw. The ruthless pakkyu was gone, replaced by the man who brought you gardenias and looked at you like you held the moon and stars. But the phantom ache between your legs, the faint sting on your nipple, the memory of his harsh voice calling you his filthy little thing… that was the thrilling secret you both now shared.

The monster was yours, and you’d awakened him. Heeseung pressed a final, lingering kiss to your temple, his thumb brushing over the faint bruise forming on your hip. "Mine," he breathed, the single word holding both the gentleness of a prayer and the terrifying weight of an unbreakable vow. Outside, the city feared him. Inside, with the scent of gardenias and sex hanging heavy, he worshipped the mark he’d left on you, the proof that even his darkness belonged to you.

[mswyrr]

1x08 has some beautiful and devastating character work for Mensah, in the writing and Noma's performance, which all leads up to her yelling at Ratthi and I want to go into that.

First of all, I read this moment as her sincerely (if also in the awareness that it's a bit silly) using the affectionate endearment Ratthi has come up with -- after finding out about the transponder, she's relieved that Murderbot has come through yet again. And NO, it's deeply unfair for her to later think of this bonding behavior as treating it like a "pet" -- that's a teammate with a team nickname! That's Ratthi literally doing *the same thing* he did when he started affectionately calling Gurathin "Gugu"! He's sweet and a bit oblivious but deeply caring and not treating Murderbot any differently as a bot than he'd treat a similar human person.

And then during the surgery, when she cannot help Gurathin, Murderbot steps up -- she's moved and also doubtful (she knows it so well by now! lol)

And then, well -- Gurathin finally found the pressure point to hit with her, the one piece of evidence that would make her feel she cannot continue advocating for Murderbot to remain part of the team. Gurathin is deeply in love with her, subconsciously jealous, and consciously convinced that Murderbot has to be driven away for the safety of Mensah and her people. (This is incredibly stupid and more likely to get them killed than Murderbot hanging around... but emotions don't actually make sense!) And he found it. This whole time, with Murderbot killing Leebeebee, with Gurathin's prior accusations and the team's doubts -- nothing shook Mensah's confidence in the bond she felt with Murderbot and the mutual trust they've shared. But this revelation does.

This is evident in the way she asks: it's not true? And Murderbot cannot tell her what she needs to hear.

Her expressions in light of it not being able to reassure her are heartbreaking

And then they really hit us in the feels -- they do a reversal of the scene from last episode, where she said that it would help if Murderbot put its helmet down so the group could see it as a person who is trying to help -- "because that's how I see you."

And here... she no longer fully believes in it and trusts her own judgment and sees it that way, she doubts that vision due to the evidence Gurathin just provided (intentionally hammering on her buttons -- her guilt and responsibility as a leader -- just as hard as he can, believing that it's right... but it was also cruel).

After Gurathin says his "maybe you're just defective" and always just moments away from killing line, Murderbot focuses on Mensah, hoping for the support she's provided -- seeking her judgment of it -- and it cannot find the acceptance it came to trust would be there. This time *Mensah* looks away. It puts the helmet back up because the person who invited it to put it down and be "part of the team"--whose trust and care it has bonded so deeply with-- isn't issuing that same invitation. It leaves because of *her* reaction.

It's a moment of heartbreak for both of them. But Mensah's leadership responsibilities mean everything to her. If it could truly go off on them at any moment--not in theory, because it is a being with free will, and all beings with free will could technically go of on each other at any time, but because it has a "defect"? She feels she has to put her people first -- she feels foolish and like she took risks she shouldn't have because she was following that deep sense of connection, trusting her feelings.

Even with all that, she's still torn -- and, *SHE* is the first one to say "We can't let it leave." While looking so desperately sad and aching.

But over the course of this conversation she firms her resolve of what she feels she has to do to care for her team. You can watch this happen in her body language and her face (Noma is such a talent!!)

And then Gurathin uses the effective tool he's found and drives it right into her heart again:

Not only can we see the shift in her expression and body language, but then she finalizes her forced resolve by literally *closing the door on it*. She's closing the door on her own heart and the parts of it that have bonded with this strange, moving, kind, dangerous being.

It is out of this emotional place--where Ratthi is actually speaking those parts of her heart--that she lashes out. Not because Ratthi did anything wrong! She's a complex human being, not a perfect Mom, not unable to be worked on and for someone to find a weak spot and crack it right open, as Gurathin did. With the best of intentions. Because everyone here is under tremendous stress -- and nobody has to be a villain for people to wrong and wound each other deeply.

She's yelling at herself more than Ratthi. She's yelling at the part of her heart that she sees in him in that moment (and that the writing invites us to see, beginning with the "Seccy" parallel early on) and that she's trying desperately to close the door on and keep it hammered shut even though it hurts terribly. It's excellent writing (the writers have a really nuanced grasp of psychology and the characters!) and acting on Noma's part. And I'm SO EXCITED to see where this goes in the final two episodes!

[vera-deville]

I am here with but one simple request, jack with a non-confrontational, socially anxious reader! it’s such a contrast with his own confrontational manner and lone-wolf nature that I think would be quite interesting to explore (๑>ᴗ<๑)

love your writing, keep up the good work ^_^ ♡

Louder Than Words 05/03/2025

Pairing: Jack Howl x Reader Word Count: 1,104 Warnings: N/A Gender: GN Tags: @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: Thank you so much! I really needed to hear that, and I'm so happy you enjoy my writing! Masterlist

You had always known that group projects were simply another nook of purgatory established to make life that much more devious to get through.

The very idea of them gave your stomach leeway to twist into anxious knots, constricting like a boa until you couldn't breathe anymore. It wasn't that you didn't like people (okay, perhaps a little), but it was more so that you didn't know what to do with them. The talking. The awkward "who's doing what" conversation. The silent tug-of-war when nobody wanted to take the lead, and everyone kept glancing around, waiting for someone to volunteer. You'd rather write five essays alone in a cave than do one group project with three strangers who barely remember your name.

So when Professor Trein announced a four-person Herbology research project, you nearly curled up under your desk and died on the spot.

And of course, fate - cruel, ironic fate - put Jack Howl in your group.

Jack, with his gruff voice and stone-faced demeanor. Jack, who didn't care if someone got upset when he said what he really thought. Jack, who had no problem walking straight into confrontation like it was a warm summer breeze.

You were going to die. Or cry. Possibly (most likely) both.

The rest of your group was rounded out by a loudmouth from Savanaclaw named Yulan, who had opinions about everything, and a sleepy Octavinelle student who you were 90% sure was just in it for the grade. That left you, nervous, anxious, and wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-ghost you, trying desperately to keep things from going up in smoke.

The first meeting went about as well as expected.

"I'm just saying, if we're talking about magical soil composition, we have to include the variant growth properties from the Scarabia greenhouse. That stuff is wild."

"Yeah, but that's not what the assignment's asking for," Jack cut in, arms crossed. "It says we need to focus on herbological integration in real-world applications, not theory."

"I am talking about a real-world application!"

"Not if you can't prove it," Jack said flatly.

Yulan slammed a notebook on the table. "You wanna bet?"

You could practically feel your soul saying goodbye to your body.

"Um...maybe we can, uh, do both?" You squeaked, almost whispering.

Neither of them heard you.

"Alright, I'm done arguing," Jack growled, standing up. "If you want to waste your time, go for it. But I'm not failing because someone can't read a prompt."

Yulan bristled. "Who're you calling someone, dog boy?"

You slid a little further down in your seat.

And yet, even after the shouting and the note-slinging and the pure chaos of that first meeting, Jack stayed behind when the others left.

You hadn't said a word in the last fifteen minutes. Just scribbled things in your notebook and tried not to look like you wanted to evaporate.

Jack leaned against the table, arms crossed, looking almost...thoughtful.

"Hey," He said. "You okay?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded toward your still-white-knuckled grip on your pen. "You looked like you were about to bolt."

You flinched. "I...I don't really do well with conflict. Or people in general."

Jack's ears twitched. "I could tell."

You braced yourself for the judgement. The teasing. The "well, toughen up" speech.

But it never came.

Jack looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to snap like that. I just hate when people don't listen. It's not personal."

You blinked again. Slowly. "You...weren't mad at me?"

He snorted. "You didn't do anything."

That shouldn't have made you tear up the way it did.

"Thanks," You said softly. "I, um...I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to make it worse."

He looked down at you, golden eyes narrowing slightly. Not in judgement. In...curiosity?

"You always like this with people?" He asked.

You nodded mutely.

Jack grunted. "Then I'll talk to them."

"What?"

"I'll keep the loud ones off your back. You focus on the research stuff. You're good at that, right?"

"I-I guess so. I mean, I like organizing and writing..."

"Good," Jack said simply. "Then you do that. And if Yulan tries to start another debate, I'll shut it down."

You blinked. "Just like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to not help you?"

"No! I just...I'm not used to people being that direct."

"Guess that's why I'm here," Jack muttered. "Balance."

From then on, Jack didn't just participate in the project - he managed it. Not in the way most people would simply take over, but rather by smoothing out the chaos so that you never had to. If Yulan got too loud, Jack would glare at him until he quieted down. If the Octavinelle student slacked off, Jack growled until he did something useful. And whenever it came time to present your findings to the professor, Jack always, always deferred to you to start the presentation.

"You did most of the writing," He'd shrug. "It's only fair."

You couldn't remember the last time someone had made you feel...capable. Protected, even. But never belittled.

It wasn't just about the project anymore.

Jack started walking with you to class after your meetings. He'd slow his pace to match yours, quietly adjusting his long strides so you didn't feel like you were trying to keep up. When he asked you questions, he actually listened - ears twitching every so often as you spoke, tail swishing thoughtfully behind him.

"You talk quiet," He once said, "But you say smart things."

You flushed all the way to your ears.

Eventually, you even got comfortable enough to sit with him at lunch. Jack didn't talk much, but you didn't feel like you had to either. He liked the silence. He thrived in it. And now, so did you.

"Can I ask you something?" You mumbled one afternoon as you sat underneath a tree, papers spread between you.

Jack nodded.

Why do you go out of your way to help me? I mean, I'm not...strong. Or brave. Not like you."

Jack looked at you for a long moment, then snorted.

"You ever try doing something when your heart's about to leap outta your chest? Walking into a room full of people, talking even when your throat locks up?" He shook his head. "That's strength, too. Just a different kind."

You stared at him.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like I said something poetic."

You laughed. "Sorry. You just surprise me sometimes."

He shrugged. "I like people who are real. You don't put on a front. You just...are."

Your chest swelled with something warm and unsure and a little fluttery.

Maybe group projects weren't all bad.

Author's Note: I've been in a bit of a rut lately, which I was really sad about, because a couple of months ago, I had a really good streak going, and I was churning out fics at a rapid rate. Unfortunately, I just kind of fell off that streak for a while. I'm trying to get back into it, and I also plan on opening commissions soon! Please be on the lookout for more information regarding that, and I hope you enjoyed this fic!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slenderman/Creepypasta x Reader || Drabble

Plot: The fandoms you loved when you were in your formative years shaped you,.. Or maybe they called out to you. And over the years since, you stopped hearing it quite so often, because the world has a way of making you lose that connection.

But the world has also been hard on you and it has broken you. And finally its time to go away to where you were meant to be. And who you were meant to be with.

//

Basically you get to run away with the Creepypasta just like you imagined when you were 13 👍

Warnings: ??? I dunno what this is, really. A meta escapist dream. Reader might be crazy.

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. He was terrifying. Less white and more a corpse grey, but as tall as you pictured; taller, maybe. And so thin you thought there was no way he could be living, and yet... he spoke to you. You heard him. Like static in your brain just like you always imagined.

It didn't hurt, though. His voice was a gentle hum. And you didn't feel terrified, this felt right. Like it was always the plan. Something tried its best to get you out of it, but the papers were signed and the hands were shook a long time ago, and it was meant to happen this way. You were meant to go away.

So you stay rooted to the spot instead of turning and running.

"It is time to come away, child. You made a valiant effort, but the human world is broken. It has been for a very, very long time. It has battered and wrecked you. Come away,... take my hand."

Its a tempting offer, you cant deny it. This world has hurt you, you don't know what you'll do next in it. You're stuck. But does that necessarily mean you should go with Him!? It may have been over a decade, but you remember the stories. This is dangerous.

... But its tempting you. Something here feels right.

When the creature sighs out, his great hand still offered to you, you know he's impatient. "I don't have all day, Y/N. The others are waiting." The others. Your eyes go round. You know exactly who he's referring to.

"I don't know- this is crazy, I shouldn't trust- "

"If I truly had ill intentions for you and you tried to get away, I would catch you anyway. Isn't that true?"

You heart thuds. "... yes... "

"So what's the point in wondering? Impractical. Come, and find out if I'm lying."

"... it cant be this easy." You breath. Right now every dream you had when you were 12 is coming to life, right when you need them. Right when you're looking for an escape rout. How do you say no to this?

Slender gives a yawning sound. His outstretched arm has not flinched from being held out so long. He's being every patient. "You don't. Come."

Did you just- No, did he just?- You did not say thats last part out loud. He really can read your mind. It jars you, and for a moment you almost reach out to take his hand on instinct- but hesitate just in time. One last time. "I- What's gonna happen?"

Another sigh. A deadpanned tone. "That is entirely up to you, my dear. You could either be a very dumb little human and this could go gruesomely for you, or it could be a great adventure. Or you could simply go home and kick yourself for the rest of your mortal life that you were given a chance to be something more then a pencil pusher and you refused. Or maybe you would sleep easy knowing you dodged a bullet. I don't know. It is, entirely, up to you. But hurry up, I have to be home soon." He turns his head, supposedly in the direction of the mansion. "... Shudder to think what the children will do while I'm away."

For another few moments you wait, wait for a reason not to go. Wait for the fear to kick in full throttle and make you run. Your heart beats so hard in your chest it takes you a few extra moments to focus and realise its not beating for you to turn and go home- its beating so hard at the anxiety of missing this chance.

... maybe you're dumb, maybe you've made all this up tied to a bed in a white room with soft walls, maybe the moment that you take this monster up on his offer you'll be killed and this was just an evil game, but... you couldn't live at all if you didn't take Slender's hand and try.

Its past time for a little adventure, you think.

Even if it ends badly.

Yeah,... even then.

Finally you slip your hand into his and hold it tight for good measure.

[priscillaxmillerx]

"Millers Girl"

Dbf!Joel x reader

† Chapter 2 -

Summary: –- Joel arrives. Priscilla and him don't even acknowledge each other which is strange since she's known him since she was little. Shes heartbroken -- Yet her not being able to even speak near him isn't the only thing that breaks her heart.

Chapter One ★

The sound of gravel crunching under tires made her breath catch.

It wasn’t loud — just a low rumble that rolled up the driveway like a wave. But she heard it before her father did. Felt it in her chest.

He didn’t say much.

Didn’t look at her the way he used to.

She didn’t move. Just stood there, one hand wrapped around a sweating glass of sweet tea, the other curled tight against her side.

Joel’s truck was older than time. Faded green with rust creeping along the edges, a dent in the driver’s side door, and a Texas flag air freshener swinging from the mirror. It was him in every way — tired, familiar, and unreasonably attractive.

He parked slow. Cut the engine. Sat there for a second.

Then the door opened with a creak, and there he was.

Joel Miller.

Boots hit the dirt. Worn jeans. Faded gray t-shirt sticking to his back. Hair longer than before, curlier at the ends, peppered with silver. His beard had grown thicker, his face more hollowed out like the road had taken something from him.But he got sexier in a way.

And when he looked up?

His eyes landed right on her.

She didn’t smile. Couldn’t. Her lips were too soft, too parted, too full of everything she’d wanted to say but couldn’t.

Joel blinked like he didn’t recognize her at first. Like maybe she was just a trick of the light.

Then his jaw clenched.

Hard.

“Damn,” her dad called out from the porch, grinning like he’d just seen a ghost. “There he is. Joel Miller, alive and kickin’. You bring me somethin’ good from Georgia?”

Joel broke his stare and turned toward him, lips twitching into that lazy, dry smirk he always wore.

“Brought you a headache,dumbass". He smirks, his voice gruff and so sexy.

He walked up the steps slowly, dragging a duffel bag over one shoulder. The porch groaned beneath his weight.

“You remember how to cook?” her dad laughed, clapping him on the back. “Hope so, ‘cause she been keepin’ this place from fallin’ apart without you.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to her again.

She was leaning by the railing, that white sundress that hit her thighs swaying just a little in the breeze. Curls loose, cheeks pink from the heat, lips glossy and parted. There was a ribbon in her hair — pale pink, delicate, sweet.

“Hey" he murmured like it was a warning, or a prayer.

She looked down. “Hi, Joel.”

That was all. Just hi. But it felt like a wound.

“Y’look… grown,” he said under his breath.

Her dad didn’t hear it. Already moving back inside, muttering about the damn cornbread burning.

Joel stepped closer. She could smell him now — sweat, sawdust, gasoline, and something darker. Something that didn’t wash off easy.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said, barely a whisper.

He shifted on his heels, eyes scanning her face. He didn’t smile.

“Shouldn’t��ve,” he muttered. “But here I am.”

The silence stretched what did he mean by he shouldn't have come.?

Priscilla offered him the glass in her hand. “Sweet tea?”

He hesitated. His fingers brushed hers as he took it — hot and calloused and rough. She swallowed hard.

Joel stared down at the drink like it was poison.

“You been alright?” he asked, voice low.

She nodded. “’Course. Daddy takes good care of me.”

His jaw ticked. He looked away. “Yeah. He always did.”

But he didn’t say I missed you. He didn’t ask if she’d thought about him.

And she didn’t say I waited. Didn’t say I wore this for you.

Because her Father was calling from the kitchen again.

Because the porch light had started to flicker.

Because she was still supposed to be his best friend’s baby girl. Not Joel's anything.

AN :I'm most definitely writing chapter 3 as u read dis so ya I'm making chapter 3 more angsty cuz these 2 chapters been boring!!.

🍓Want me to change something or mix the story up a bit lmk!

[mehiwilldoitlater]

((from this, just a small thing, i just enjoyed it))

Your pen stayed still on that small portion of the paper, giving the idea of pondering what to write next. Instead, you just wanted to smash the ink on it, but common sense was a leash, and you were bound to it. Another complaint, another letter of apology for your lack of experience in…whatever the issue was.

Garviel stood there, the itching on his neck keeping on growing every time his eyes landed on the poor woman, you, sitting there on that desk, far too big for her size and so much out of place.

He had seen it, everyone did, but this was his father's decision, and everyone decided to play along. Yet…

"…Would…would you like a break?"

His voice broke the silence in the office; the ticking of the clock on the wall stopped echoing in your head like a doom. His voice wasn't sure; he was walking on thin ice.

"…Sorry?"

"A…a break, my lady… For a walk, maybe? You look…you look exhausted."

Since when couldn't he speak clearly? Why did he feel like he couldn't talk clearly with the woman that was supposed to be his mother? He wanted to fidget with something, but his hands were empty, so he just decided to move his fingers, hoping to let the stress out.

You looked at him for a few seconds, then sighed deeply. Your hand covered your face, trying to get support from the forgotten document with your arm.

"I am…. I am exhausted… This is so much…"

Your breath got heavier, and Garviel noticed your eyes getting glossier, closed in two thin lines.

"It's so hard… It's easy for someone else but so hard for me… I can't get any of this right. , it's complain after complain…"

Then he heard it, that damn small sound of hiccups and sobs. Now it wasn't anxiety that ate him alive; it was guilt that he had opened a door supposed to be closed.

"I…FUCKING hate it…"

You didn't swear. Well, you did once, but you had to put on the facade of the perfect wife of the perfect son of the emperor. And you were failing miserably, and you knew, and they all knew. Horus? He must have known but decided to let it slide, making the thing more like a you problem than everything. Alone with that pofat depression in your head, with that feeling of uselessness, you remembered with whom you were talking. You tried to conceal the few tears that you couldn't hold, looking to one of the most trusted sons of Horus.

"Forgive me, I…I shouldn't have spoken!" A sense of panic rose. "Please, don't tell my husband! I-"

His hand rose, gesturing for you to calm down.

"There's nothing to apologize for. What you said now stays between these walls. "Leg—"He stopped, noticing like a slump in your shoulder."… Lady Y/n."

He wished he could have stopped your crying, yet that small word made you cry more, but this time it seemed like a relief.

"No one…has been calling me like that in weeks…"

[illegiblehandwriting1]

Btw everyone who's saying Kris is a boy CLEARLY does not understand the kind of titty-hiding a woman can do with a baggy shirt, a good slouch, and some lucky genetics, not to mention with a binder

NOT saying Kris is a girl. Here's what I am saying:

1) it doesn't matter what sex Kris is (hey, maybe they're intersex! You don't know!). It has no actual effect on the plot and characters so it doesn't matter

2) there is no real evidence for either side of what Kris's sex is (and BEFORE you bring up the bedroom thing, be aware that I do know that Toriel is religious and a stickler etc etc. Also be aware that my mother is also religious and a stickler, yet she trusts her kids enough to have my little sister rooming with my little brothers (who are older). In fact, I know several religious families in which this is a thing. Also ALSO be aware that the Dreemurrs live in a two bedroom house and they probably bought it before they got Kris and maybe even Azzy. Clearly they weren't planning on Kris when they got the house. They can't exactly set this kid up in the living room for the rest of their life)

3) you can have as many headcanons as you want, but when talking about canon Kris, you have to talk about canon Kris.

Let me repeat:

When talking about canon Kris, you HAVE TO TALK ABOUT CANON KRIS.

Canon Kris is nonbinary, and that does play into the theme of identity and control. Canon Kris is nonbinary, and that's clear enough through the dialogue and their sheer existence. Canon Kris is nonbinary, and if you can't accept that, maybe you shouldn't be talking about them. You should not erase a character's canonical queerness, especially if they're trans, because then you are not talking about that character. That means theorycrafting, game observations, etc need to accept that Kris is nonbinary just like everyone else in-game and irl. Also if you're talking about the game and call them a boy, you look kinda stupid bc no one knows who you're talking about.

Rant over

[floatingnebulas]

DamiMaps, Robin!Maps, Batman!Cass AU

Okay so like, consider this: a DamiMaps AU where Damian has fully retired as Robin to focus on preparing to attend medical school, Tim is Red Robin I guess (or also Cardinal. Just, he's not Robin here), and Cass is Batman. This means Maps is the only Robin and, of course, patrols alongside Batman (or "The Bat" or just "Bat". Can't decide what Cass should be called here).

Maps and Damian are in junior year at Gotham Academy now, after Damian transferred back to the school. Maps is patrolling as Robin regularly with Cass at night, then attending classes at school during the day (she still lives on campus). But, and here's the interesting part, she still doesn't know the Bats' identities. (Yes, I'm ignoring that she figured out Batman is Bruce Wayne in the comics). Maps hasn't been working with the Bats for super long yet. She's had a few scattered encounters with them, then was trained as Robin for a few months, and now has started to patrol as Robin, but that's it. Maybe 5, 6ish months since she's actually started really training? So she doesn't know that Damian used to be Robin.

Here's where this becomes important: she does know the former Robin quit because he wanted to focus on studying to be accepted to medical school and so he has time to volunteer. Maps has the former Robin's phone number, and often calls him to help her with more minor injuries that she doesn't want to get lectured by Cass and the other bats for. Maps and the former Robin strike up a friendship, one that shifts into a crush on Maps' part.

HOWEVER, AT THE SAME TIME! Damian Wayne, the son of Bruce Wayne, has transferred back to Gotham Academy and Maps has started hanging out with him again. He ends up on the outskirts of their little detective club, verbally refusing to get involved but still tagging along with them and slowly finding a place in their friend group. Maps manages to convince him to join a sorcerers and spells campaign she's DMing, and she's lost from there.

Maps Mizoguchi has a crush on both Robin, her friend she goes to for advice and wound patches, and Damian Wayne, her friend in her classes that joined her club. This is a HUGE problem (no, it's actually far less of one than she thinks).

More details below, but that's the basic premise!

Okay so, as I mentioned, Cass becomes Batman. This happens after Bruce is injured in a battle and FINALLY decides he's going to lay down the cowl because he's simply getting too old for this (come on. This man is in his like, 50s now. HE SHOULDN'T BE DOING THIS SHIT ANYMORE). Cass is the only one who really wants the cowl and could do well with it, so she takes up the mantle (as she should, because she's the best option for it). Damian works with her for a couple of months, but ends up deciding that he wants to quit Robin so he can focus on preparing for medical school applications, volunteering at Gotham General, and learning from Leslie. So he quits.

Cass is investigating a spree of kidnappings, and ends up realizing that one of Maps' classmates is the next target. Maps ends up getting roped into the case on accident as she always does, and at the end of it all, is rambling a bit. Cass realizes that Maps does her whole detective club thing and actually gets into a lot of shit because of it (did she just mention demons? and vampires? Did she just say she knows Killer Croc???) and decides that this little girl needs a bit of combat instruction to keep herself safe while she's doing all this. So Cass trains her.

Maps is a very fast learner and, without them even realizing, ends up being taught what a Robin would need to learn. The other Bats show up sometimes (Steph shows her how to escape the cops, Tim teaches her about hacking electronic locks, and Dick shows her how to surf trains), and Maps is just assimilated without her or Cass making the connection. Eventually, the former Robin finally shows up for the first time in a domino mask after months of this, and asks when Maps' first patrol is going to be. Oh. She's Robin now. (Cass makes an actual offer over ice cream after the first patrol and it's adorable and Maps is ecstatic).

So Maps becomes Robin. From here, I don't really have a good idea of what the plot would be, but I do know a few things.

Maps' Robin is really good with the occult stuff. One of the first mysteries she and Cass have to solve together should be related to some kind of creature, and Maps is the one who connects the dots. This leads to Constantine or Zatanna being called in to help, and Maps meets them (she will later introduce them to Pom, and Pom becomes an apprentice magic user to them. Olive also gets a mentor in someone who can help with her fire powers).

Maps meets the Teen Titans (a new version, one that Damian used to be on except not the one in the comics because it was bad. A custom TT team for this fic. Perhaps with Lian Harper, Nika, Keli Quintela, and Irey West?), and learns that there's a spot for her if she wants it.

There's love triangle chaos between Maps, Damian, and the former Robin that's actually just a straight line but Damian is the only one who knows (yes, he's also crushing back on her hard. Also yes, she does accidentally confess her crush one one of his identities to the other identity at some point. he subsequently loses his mind).

Kyle and Colton finally get together. Kyle's also in college now (maybe Gotham University? Probably GU).

Maps regularly ends up going to "Old Robin" not just for medical help, but also for advice on just being Robin. sure, she knows a bunch of the other bats used to be robins too, but OR is the one closest to her age. she feels most comfortable talking to him about her anxieties about being robin, especially since he's really good at listening and giving solid advice. it's one of the things that leads to her having a crush on him.

And finally (and here's the main thing I've been struggling to figure out so if anyone reads this and has a good idea lmk), the final villain, the climax, is a villain that foils Maps. I'm not sure what a good foil for her would be, but that is the case. It's a personal villain for her.

But yeah, in general, just DamiMaps identity chaos, Robin!Maps Batman!Cassandra story <3333 I love it and i so desperately want to write it but i need to figure out those issues first ;-;

[cherriesfm]

it  dawned  on  him  then  –  the  way  she  refrained  from  sharing  her  own  name,  remaining  a  mystery.  he  sat  straighter  in  his  seat,  leaning  in  just  slightly  as  he  lowered  his  tone.  “sorry  –  you  never  told  me  your  real  name…”  he'd  been  attempting  to  poke  through  her  armor,  looking  for  weak  spots  and  had  entirely  overlooked  the  one  thing  she  never  offered  in  the  first  place.  “and  you  talk  like  someone  who's  used  to  getting  the  last  word.”  he  retorted,  the  smirk  long  gone  and  only  a  quite  steadiness  remaining  on  his  features.  it  was  one  that  begged  for  her  to  underestimate  him,  only  realizing  too  late  that  maybe  she  shouldn't  have.  “now  i'll  cheers  to  that  !”  he  mirrored  her  earlier  move,  tilting  his  own  glass  toward  her  before  taking  a  sip  of  his  drink.  a  balatant  lie  considering  michael  had  a  difficult  time  around  lawyers,  given  his  past,  and  yet,  he  kept  a  straight  face.  “i've  been  called  a  bad  idea  before  but  it's  never  sounded  this  good.”  the  smirk  he  harbored  earlier  returned  to  his  face,  noting  the  way  her  gaze  shifted.  “if  that  was  meant  to  intimidate  me,  you  should  know  something  about  me  first..”  he  paused,  glancing  around  the  room  briefly  before  his  gaze  returned  to  hers.  it  felt  like  they  were  in  a  separate  world  from  everyone  else  around  them.  “i  never  shy  away  from  a  challenge  and  when  i  play  –  i  play  to  win.”

her laugh came low — not loud, not performative, just the kind that curled at the edges like smoke from a lit match. “mm,” she hummed, letting it linger. “confident and quotable. no wonder your exes have so much to say.” she didn’t blink at the microscope feeling. lenny lived under scrutiny — courtrooms, headlines, whisper networks with expensive drinks and even more expensive secrets. being watched didn’t rattle her. it thrilled her. and more than that, it let her see who flinched first. “worth forming an opinion about,” she repeated, like she was trying it on. “you do talk like someone who’s been the subject of a few long-ass voice memos.” she tilted her glass toward him in a kind of informal cheers. “respect.” his smirk didn’t go unnoticed, but it didn’t win anything either — not yet. lenny matched it with one of her own. slow, knowing, unapologetically earned. “you’re right,” she said, leaning her chin into her palm. “i don’t usually do second chances. i do consequences. and clever exits. and very good lawyers.” the thrum of bass from the dj booth shifted, vibrating through the walls like the pulse of the room itself. linkinbio was alive, electric — the kind of place built for curated chaos, where danger smelled like cologne and opportunity came in champagne flutes. she studied him a beat longer, lashes casting soft shadows as she tipped her head. “but sometimes,” she added, “sometimes a bad idea is just interesting enough to make it worth the headache.” then, her gaze sharpened — just slightly. not enough to be cruel. just enough to make it clear she wasn’t handing over the wheel. “so if this is your best hand, michael,” she murmured, her voice low and deliberate, “you might want to stop circling the glass and actually play it. before i get distracted by someone else’s bluff.” she leaned back again, easy, cool, completely in control — but there was heat beneath the surface now. not quite a challenge. not yet. “because this?” she gestured lazily between them. “it doesn’t stay open long.”

[flying-mochis]

I just finished the Silmarillion so now it's time for me to loose my mind trying to discern the timeline changes in Rings of Power

mostly I was trying to figure out which "war" it was that Celeborn went missing in

but first I wanted to ground myself by figuring out when Finrod died- except that also isn't clear...

This is a very long, unedited stream of consciousness post, so I'll put it under Keep Reading. I also didn't really fact check any of this just going off my recent memory of just reading the Silmarillion so- If I got stuff wrong...woops

TLDR: Though Finrod originally dies in the Silmarillian during the Beren and Luthien, I think the RoP writers have changed his death to be sometime after the defeat of Morgoth as he's hunting Sauron. I think Celeborn went missing sometime before Finrod died, either in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad (before the Fall of Doriath) or in the War of Wrath (the final defeat of Morgoth). Ultimately who knows but I'm excited to see what they do :)

In the Silmarillian, Finrod dies around late year 400 in the 1st Age protecting Beren in Of Beren and Luthien. He is killed by Sauron, as Sauron throws them in like a pit of death thingy.

but in Rings of Power, when Galadriel is giving exposition in the beginning, she basically says 'Then Morgoth was drafted, but Sauron continued to cause problems, and my brother vowed to hunt him down, then he died.' So it sounds like RoP Finrod survived the War of Wrath against Morgoth, but then died hunting Sauron afterwards.

This change would call into question how the events of Beren and Luthien played out in the RoP timeline- I guess it's not necessary for Finrod to die into order for that story to still have worked? Like maybe Luthien saved both of them or maybe Finrod never went with them. But...Part of the fall of Doriath in Hurin getting Finrods fancy necklace from Mim the dwarf after he's taken over Finrod's Kingdome in his absence- so if Finrod survived up to the fall of Doriath and past that- how would that work? I'm sure it could, there are ways to work around it so the story can still play out with those changes- or maybe they changed more major parts of the story like the fall of Doriath! That would be bold but not out of the question.

Maybe it's also possible that Finrod did still die during the Beren and Luthien story but that just happened after the defeat of Morgoth? IDK if that makes sense, because then how would Thingol have gotten the silmarill that leads to the fall of Doriath and all that stuff with Earendil and Elwing-? that has a lot more continuity changes so less likely.

Ok, moving on from Finrod. His death is at least canon from the Silmarillion, but Celeborn going missing is not. Or at least, it isn't mentioned. But one thing about Galadriel and Celeborn is that they were retconned into the story after most of the Silmarillion was written, so their presence it is extremely spotty and sometime inconsistent. It's basically mentioned that they fall in love when Galadriel and her brothers go to Doriath and she stays with him in Doriath while Finrod finds his kingdom, Nargothrond. Then she's mentioned talking to Melian like once after that right before the Dagor Bragollach (one time Morgoth surprise attacks a bunch of elf cities) and then...They basically disappear for the rest of the book until it starts talking about the rings of power in the 2nd Age-

So...There's already a lot of missing spots in there story. That's one of the reasons I think it's cool they made Galadriel a protagonist in RoP, because what she's doing in those times is very vague, though more so in the 1st Age than the 2nd- but her character could still shed some light on what she was doing then- Especially when Celeborn is introduced, cuz that's gonna require some background explanations.

So that's all just to provide the context that there is barely any context for what those two were doing before RoP takes place.

Another note about possible timelines for Celeborn going missing is its relation to Finrod's death. This is not confirmed, but I've always worked with the assumption that Celeborn went missing before Finrod died. This is based on some factors- such as Galadriel's seemingly more cheery nature when she calls him a "silver clam" before he goes off to battle---This doesn't sound like the traumatized, hardened Galadriel we know from her response to Finrod's death. Also, as other's have pointed out, if Finrod had died before Celeborn went to war and Galadriel had already become a warrior, why wouldn't she have gone to war with Celeborn? It's possible they were just going to different locations, but I don't think she would chide him to not join the fight is she was also doing so.

Running with that assumption- If Finrod did die saving Beren as he did in the Silmarillion, that means Celeborn would've gone missing in some battle before then, maybe the Dagor Bagollach. This would mean he would have missed out all everything with Beren and Luthien, everything with Turin, and everything else with the fall of Doriath at the hands of dwarfs and elves. Which I think would be a shame. There is still conflict in having missed out on a significant tragedy, but I think having him witness all those tragedies would be more interesting- and his bitterness towards dwarfs would be more understandable if he was physically there to witness their betrayal and slaughter of his people.

As I've said, its possible and probably likely that they'll change it so Finrod died much later, and this is another one for my reasons for thinking that. Aside from the other plot holes that creates, Finrod dying after the defeat of Morgoth opens up to possibilities for which battle Celeborn went missing in, so I'll continue with that assumption.

So, let's start with what Rings of Power canon we know. Not a lot, but in Celeborn's one mention in season 1, Galadriel says "When he went to [the War], I chided him." So he didn't go missing on some personal quest or whatever, he specifically went off to fight in "the war". One issue this raises is that Celeborn is from Doriath, and Doriath doesn't give a fuck. Doriath does not send any of its people off to any battles in the Silmarillion until it starts falling apart. The closest we get to Doriath elves fighting is when they hunt down the dwarves that killed Thingol and then defend themselves from the dwarves and the sons of Feanor.

One way to get around this could be making it so Celeborn and Galadriel left Doriath at some point to operate on their own. Maybe they went to live with Finrod in Nargothrond (I think it is mentioned that Galadriel stayed with Finrod there for a while, but Celeborn isn't mentioned? And I don't remember if that's in the Silmarillion or one of the unfinished tales- which are more subject to flexible canon). In which case, Celeborn could've gone off with Finrod to one of the battles- This is an interesting idea as it could show Galadriel and Celeborn being more independent and maybe dissenting from Thingol after his sus decisions with Beren and Luthien. The next battle after that story would be the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the unsuccessful battle with Morgoth right before the Fall of Doriath. The problem with him going missing in that battle, again, would be him missing out on all the drama of the Fall of Doriath.

The second explanation for Celeborn going to war would be that he goes to fight after the Fall of Doriath. It makes sense that he would be more willing to fight after seeing the destruction of his people, even if that wasn't directly at the hands of Morgoth. Galadriel's joking disposition may not make as much sense in a setting after her husband home was destroyed and his family was slaughtered- but maybe everything still felt lighter back then as long as they were together. The most likely battle he went missing in after that would then be the War of Wrath itself, the final defeat of Morgoth.

Another possibility is he went missing during the Fall of Doriath, but that wasn't much of war as it was a siege, and I feel like Galadriel would have at least tried to help out in some way in those circumstances.

Overall, the two most likely battles I see him going missing in are the Nirnaeth Arnoediad (the 2nd to last attack on Morgoth) or the War of Wrath (the final defeat of Morgoth). The Nirnaeth Arnoediad, or some earlier battle, may make more sense for Galadriel to not go Celeborn as they hadn't experienced the tragic loss of Doriath yet, but I guess the same could be said for her not going with Finrod later.

I think I prefer him at least surviving up to the War of Wrath, as that means he was around to see the Fall of Doriath, and experience all the ~fun~ trauma of that, which is one of the things that could make him more unique as a character.

There is also the question of if Celebrian is even born yet and if so, where she is. As Galadriel and Celeborn's lives are so vague in the first two ages, so is Celebrian, their daughter. I don't think we know for sure when she was born, but I believe it is mentioned in Unfinished Tales that Celebrian was alive and with them by the time they first went to Eregion. Obviously much has changed as neither Celeborn nor Celebrian were present for the fall of Eregion in Rings of Power.

Personally, I don't believe Celebrian is even born yet in RoP. As other have pointed out, Galadriel starts the series as one who has lost everything, one who has no ties and nothing left to lose. This is fundamental to her hunt of Sauron and her eventual fall to the manipulation of Sauron. It doesn't track that she would be doing all this while she has a living and present daughter to worry about or keep her grounded. It's possible both Celeborn and Celebrian are missing. I feel like should would have mentioned that to Theo when she told him about Celeborn, but she's also managed to only mention her supposedly dead husband once in 16 episodes, so clearly she's a master at putting those particular traumas in boxes to never be spoken of. I feel like having both of them be missing to show up later would be a bit too cluttered and it'd be smoother to just say she isn't born yet, but anything's possible.

I'm pretty sure the "canon" about Celebrian being born before the fall of Eregion is from Unfinished Tales anyway? Which I think of as more like a draft of Tolkien's ideas for the family, not canon in the sense of the SIlmarillion or the published stories.

Lots of "canon" falls apart around Galadriel and her family as they were added in so late and Tolkien seemed to die before writing his "final" story for them. And this is an adaptation, they aren't meant to follow "canon" like the gospel anyway, as we've seen. As I've said, the very lack of solid story around Galadriel and her families experiences through the first two ages is more exciting than anything, as it leaves so much room for the writers to get creative them and write a thrilling story that we haven't seen before. This is a chance to shine light on characters that fall under the status of "unfinished" in Tolkien ever-changing world, such as Celeborn. The only "canon" (Silmarillion) information we have on Celeborn for the 1st and 2nd Age is that he lived in Doriath during the 1st Age, he was somehow related to Thingol and later Nimloth, and he and Galadriel were in love. There's other supplementary, unpublished notes that either expand on these traits or straight up contradict them.

Based on letters nearing his death, Tolkien was clearly still thinking of how Galadriel's families story could go, but as he never "finished" with them, if such a thing is even possible, we'll never get that "canon" story from him. So it's up to us- or, in this case, it's up to the writers of the Rings of Power. So we'll see!

Wow, that was a long-winded way to say "I dunno"

[whattheskyknows]

Was toying with the idea of planning a despair disease fic and it's turned into an entire chapter 3 rewrite,,, I don't know how this happened??

[elpida]

"no sweetheart, never teasing, just trying to take care of you, and make sure you feel even a tiny bit better when you wake up." he didn't understand a word of turkish, he had no idea what she was mumbling about, but it didn't change that cade sat and listened regardless of that. he sat wondering how he might be able to find a book or something on turkish, maybe get the artificial intelligence to help him learn some basics, do something to prove he really was serious about trying to make them work and learn anything and everything about her.

"we're on a space ship, flying for years and years.. you don't gotta worry about me going anywhere, i wouldn't up and leave, not only because i can't, mainly because i'd never dream of it, i wouldn't want to leave you, i'd not go anywhere." he smiled a bit softer, watchin her snuggle in, even moved to dim down the lights real low. "i'd stay, because i want to stay aiyla. promise."

"so for today, and tomorrow.. we quite literally have the sun on a string?" and yet she'd be quite happy, with tonight and tomorrow, then they could share it.. because it meant that something on this ship for even a small snippet or time, belonged to them. something to remember, when everything else had been ransacked through.

"no no no, you'll laugh at what i miss." there was a bit of a groan but then, there it was.. something that made her smile, reminiscent, but given she thought this room was the sun on a string, did she not realise part of it's warmth was already in her? somewhere deep down, when she wasn't thinking about it.. it was there. "the movies." she admitted, then moved her cup down to briefly hide her face in her knees. "it's for such a stupid reason to, or a few.. like.. like it sounds silly if you don't get it, but i used to like having something like that where i didn't have to.. speak?" she sighed, ran her hands over her face. "i didn't feel so much social pressure going to see a movie, i didn't have to keep up and act or, anything like that. i couldn't take a break from trying to be what people expected me to be, just to be more likeable. i liked not having to talk, i liked that it was dark.. i loved horror films so much, the cheesy kind. you know what else i loved? terrible theatre popcorn and nachos. those huge sodas. terrible, but terribly delicious, cinema junk food."

"no no really! really i'll be- you'll-" she couldn't help the squeak of a noise that left her when he got to his feet, had her cradled right into him and she shouldn't be blushing as much as she was but he'd called her sweetheart, and maybe it was the wine but she was so locked into the heat of his chest and how... how nice it was. she could've stayed right there and slept this whole thing off, forgot all about the wine, about everything. for a moment or two she was stiff and then she just.. eased, right into him, hooked her arms around and rest her head right into his chest, right over his heart. there was this noise, this relieved breath that left her in a soft sigh. ben would have liked him, the little thought crept in.

"but you'll stay, right?" sober, she'd never dare ask, or say anything she was staying. "you'll stay? 'coz... well 'coz what if i wanna sleep right here?" she half mumbled that, like she really could sleep like that. "i want you to stay and i can't tell you that normally, wine courage. plus i think i'll be too busy dying form embarrassment tomorrow morning to say anything."

a hum escapes her, followed by a string of mutterings in turkish explaining the choice of name is more given the boys absentee father and how strong he'll become besides that. it's a question that will continue to bother her - as will its answer - long beyond that night, but the reassurance that her decision will be the right one, regardless of what it is, seems to offer her a semblance of peace. another grumble escapes her at the prompting of water, pushing herself up onto one elbow to accept the glass with a small pout. "you're teasing me."

for a man who had seemed so hesitant in jumping into things previously, cade appears to be more than eager to support her in this. brows furrow as she hands the empty glass back to him. "he never had a dad." she admits, snuggling back into the bed with a yawn. "we found out i was pregnant and he left. that's part of the reason i wanted this all to work. would give someone not just right for me, but to him too, ya know? so you'd have to be sure. sure sure of everything. me 'n him. don't think i can handle being left again."

he stops at the entry, allowing her to move beyond him and into the room - to savor everything well before any of the rest of them. he takes in each subtle movement, each shift in expression, but when she turns to him with that radiant smile? he's shot through the heart and once more convinced that the program that matched them together had to have been right. because that look alone could have lit up a thousand suns and he would find a way to recreate it again, and again, and again if he would.

moving forward so the door could slide shut behind them - enclosing the pair within the space together, silas joins her in the grass. tablet set aside and mug placed beside him, he rests back on his palms, basking in the artificial sun with a small grin in her direction. "maybe for tonight and tomorrow, then we can share the wealth," he notes with a soft chuckle. "fairly certain half our companions will be nursing the worst hangovers to ever exist in space, while my twin-apparent and his partner are too busy being wrapped up in one another to notice anyone else." silas is quiet for a moment before glancing over at the tablet. "what else do you miss? i'm sure i could manage to give you the first-time experience rights before we open things up to the others."

a shoulder raises into a shrug. he'd never been one for dates. tried it once - years and years ago when he first liked a girl while he was still in school, but that had been the one and only occasion. after that, he'd had bed companions and nothing more. but if his sister were awake and learned he'd not taken his match out on a proper date, he'd likely have his ears boxed. "italian huh? can't go wrong with a good red sauce and bottle of wine," he agrees. he's an alright cook. nothing on what you might have found at a fancy place back on earth, but perhaps he can convince one of the others to cook for him.

a noise of inquiry escapes him at the statement - one that morphs into pure amusement when she calls herself heavy and claims he'll hurt himself. "sweetheart, you're a damn feather, trust me." as if to convince her of the statement, the man shifts - adjusting her against him so he can get his feet beneath himself before dragging her closer and truly cradling her frame as he pushes himself up and standing. "might've been good wine, but i think tomorrow you'll be singing a different tune. lets get you set at the med bay, then i'll put you to bed. you'll thank me for it in the morning."

[rustyrailways]

Everyday I wish they explored the class/house system in Piltover further so we could see just how vast the differences in economic status and quality of life exists in the city. We know there is a house system at the very least, but to what extent does it effect things?

[mackthecheesy]

rip to the person in my dream last night who i was in a time loop trying to save </3 woke up before i ever could

[bizarrelovetriangel]

lipstick stains.

reader decides to dabble with art using several lipstick as her tools and sylus' sleeping face as her canvas.

fluff. inspired by one of sylus' texts in the game (included down below near the end). no warnings, just little kisses and reader having a little fun <3

It's two in the afternoon and there's nothing to do until sunset, when it's time to get ready for a date with your lover who's currently sleeping.

No... maybe there is something you could do.

A certain someone recently just bought you several new shades of lipstick from the brand that you love. Maybe now is a good idea to see which color would suit your outfit best for your date.

You wore a sly grin as you gathered all of your new lipstick and tiptoed your way inside Sylus' bedroom.

He's still in the same position as when you put him to bed: mostly on his back, though his upper body's slightly on a higher level due to the fluffy cold pillow supporting his shoulders.

He's wearing his satin burgundy robe, which had gotten a little loose to expose a portion of his chest. You were tempted to rest your head against it, but you can't afford to be distracted right now. You have a mission.

You're going to test the shades of your new lipstick with Sylus' help.

First up is cherry.

You put on a single layer of that color on your lips, then you carefully leaned down towards Sylus' face and softly kissed his forehead. You made sure it was as light as a feather so he doesn't wake up and end your fun so soon.

Next: rose.

You painted your lips with the brighter shade and pecked Sylus' left cheek. It gave a similar result as the previous contender: it looks great, but this particular color probably won't match your outfit tonight.

Third candidate is: wine

This one went to his right cheek and your gaze lingered on it for a little longer than the rest, as the color seemed so fitting on Sylus' face. The stain of wine always did compliment him, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

Up next is blood-red.

It's darker than wine and you also love its velvety texture. More importantly, the kiss mark of its hue looks wonderful on Sylus' left jawline.

Following that is blush.

This one's brighter and more on the pink side. Even though you like it, tonight won't be the night when you'd wear it. Nonetheless, it certainly looks lovely on your lover's chin, which twitched for a second after you kissed it.

Next one is apple.

You kissed the right side of Sylus' jaw and awed at its surprisingly vibrant tone. This one might work quite well with your outfit.

There's the shade called merlot, too.

It's more on the darker side, but you're not sure if it'll look good with your outfit tonight. On the other hand, it's cute on Sylus' nose.

Last but not least: ruby

This one seems like it's in the middle of the palette in terms of saturation, and it appears to have an appealing texture as well. To test it out, you put it on your lips and left a mark on the little spot just above his lips.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Sylus stirred all of a sudden, so you ended up kissing him on the lips.

From the very moment your lips touched, your face heated up and you backed away in panic.

You've kissed him plenty of times. You've kissed him on the lips and on spots that are not his lips. You've done way more than kissing. And yet still, your heart raced at the thought of him catching you stealing kisses from him while he sleeps.

It's still a little early for him to wake up, so you decided to leave him alone for now. You took all of your lipstick with you and ran out before he could detect your presence.

//////////

Your mouth drops at the text message you just received.

"I need to hide, quickly! You guys better not snitch on me! Especially you, Mephie!" You glared at the crow before leaving Luke and Kieran, suddenly ending your game of Kitty Cards.

You fled to look for a hiding spot, but it's too late. Your face planted against a strong chest.

You swore you heard a cough from behind you, followed by the sound of someone's phone clicking for a picture.

It didn't matter though because Sylus spared no attention to Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto as his eyes are completely focused on you.

"Sylus....." you laughed nervously. "Good afternoon. Had a nice dream?"

"Mhmm." He crossed his arms, giving you a raised brow. "In my dream, I was being attacked by a mischievous kitten while I was asleep."

"...."

"You're coming with me." He took one step towards you and leaned down to whisper to your ear. "You have to be punished for your crimes."

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and retreated back to his bedroom.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other.

"Did you get the picture?"

"Yeah."

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ask Around in the Morgue

Most times, Tim is not a fan of social interaction. If he can acquire the necessary data from literally anything written in text, without the need to actually talk to people, he does that. It's the logical thing to do, come on! People lie, or, even if they don't, they take ages to get to the point, and you can't put them on pause or set aside to return later. Some written resources lie as well, but that is, at least, way easier to prove by relying on several of them instead of a single one.

That saying, he can work in a team — Young Justice is great proof of that. Batfamily, not so much, but then, none of the Bats like working together. Because they are all hypercontrolling, manipulative, and paranoid.

And yet, keeping all that in mind, right now Tim is about to go and speak — using his mouth and words — to a GCPD mortician whom he's never seen or met before in his life.

All because of this report.

More precisely, because of the line 'pls come talk to me if u r a bat' that was inserted right into the file, just between the description of contents of the victim's stomach and the rather unappealing photo of the same thing. Tim supposes the placement was intentional — most people skip over that kind of information, jumping straight to the cause of death. Which is a homicide, by the way.

Not that it's anything unusual in Gotham.

Tim walks through the hallway, keeping his steps silent. Daniel Nightingale, the mortician, more accurately a pathologist, works graveyard shifts — very ironic and no less convenient — and most days, he does so all alone, so Tim is not expecting company. He is just keeping quiet out of habit.

And yet, as he gets closer to the autopsy room, he hears it. The chipper, amused voice from inside.

"You can't just make that shit up, I swear," it laughs, "Oh, Minerva. You were way too old to pull it off." There's a pause, and then it starts speaking again, filled with hidden laughter, "You don't say?"

The door is, thankfully, already half-open. Tim takes a quick look inside, hoping to figure out who's the other part of the alleged conversation, but the only person there — erm, the only alive person — is a guy in a gray uniform and a lab coat. Supposedly, Mr. Nightingale. There's also a corpse of an old lady on the table in front of him, of course, but Tim doubts she can hold up the conversation. A phone call? Or maybe he's just talking to himself?..

The guy raises his head briefly, turning to the door.

"Come on in, lurking in the shadows doesn't suit you," he calls, almost cheerful, and Tim pauses.

He's pretty sure he hasn't made a single noise.

Oh, well. Maybe he did. Maybe the pathologist has an alarm system in case of a zombie apocalypse. Maybe he sees the future. The possibilities are endless.

Tim steps inside.

"I'm here about your note," he says, cutting the greetings and niceties. The pathologist hums, his eyes still on the bare, skinless ribcage of the woman before him.

"Cool. Which one?" He asks without missing a beat. Tim stares; the guy looks entirely too nonchalant, given the circumstances, but that's not the only reason. Daniel Nightingale is way younger than Tim expected — twenty, at most — and he is... well, if Tim had a type, which he doesn't, he would definitely check all the boxes. Most of the boxes. A lot of boxes.

Okay, he's just good-looking, what is he even thinking about, this is getting sidetracked.

"There was more than one?" He asks because that's the logical, reasonable thing to ask. Daniel glances up at him. A tiny strand of hair escapes his pinned down bangs, and the guy huffs, shaking it away from his face. Shouldn't he be wearing a hat?

"Yeah, I put the bat alert in at least five reports I've written. Only two recently, though, so, if you could specify?" He asks. The loose strand of his hair moves all on its own, brushing itself up over Daniel's head. Then, one of the bobby pins comes out, hanging in the air briefly, and goes back into Daniel's hair, securing it from falling again. "Thank you, Minerva," the guy smiles politely, casting a glance to the side.

Tim is not sure what's going on but he has a hunch.

"I'm speaking about John Doe from last week?" He attempts, but Daniel only hums.

"Unfortunately, that doesn't narrow it down," he turns back to the table, looking down into the old lady's open abdomen with a critical eye. "Darling, do you think you'll be fine here all on your own while I speak with our dear guest?" He asks, almost demurely, and Tim is not dumb. Minerva is definitely the name of the lady on the autopsy table. The question is, has the GCPD hired a schizophrenic man during such dire times, or is the guy really some kind of ghost-whisperer?

The chances are, honestly speaking, 50/50. It's Gotham.

There's no response that Tim can hear, but Daniel straightens back up and takes off his gloves before turning to the other side, still away from Tim. "Mind cleaning up?" He asks again and then throws his gloves into the nearest bin. They don't land, but just as Daniel huffs and goes to retrieve them, the gloves float up from the floor like someone invisible picked them up and dropped them into the bin.

"Ah, thank you, Minerva," the pathologist smiles.

Tim feels an uncomfortable chill run down his spine.

"How many ghosts are in here?" He tries for casual, but fails spectacularly, judging by Daniel's chuckle.

"Five," he answers without any pause, "Six, if you count the nonverbal kid that's hiding in Page's cold locker. Anyway, John Doe?.."

A few of the instruments Daniel has used float up from the table and start moving towards the nearest sink.

Tim takes a deep breath.

Either he's gotten himself a new contact in GCPD forensics or a very alarming new meta. 50/50.

But Daniel's smile is 100 percent going to be a pain in his ass.