#expecting or thinking things to leave. not as much anymore and being more brave or fearless inspite of that preconceived notion but still

[cent-scratchnsniff]

hiii cool drawing person!! I uh saw that you kind of do requests? So I was wondering if I could request a little doodle of Yesod hugging Netzach.. I feel like Netzach goes through so much hell that he'd need that, and Yesod would like to give affection to someone considering his uh. . . prior need to delete a bunch of information and pretend that no one who died existed you know ? Plus snake.. haha good at squeezing. and he's chest height, how stupid <3 thank you so much for making so many people's days with your art and your thoughts oh my god your thoughts. i love how you dissect these little freaks 🥺

hi neat anonymous sender!! thank you so much for your words!!! im so glad that i can bring some sort of joy and happiness even if it is small. and that my thoughts and writings are well received still. i am still in a bit of a shock that people like and read them even with the passing time. . . i hope youre okay with these doodles! thank you for sending this in

[xitsensunmoon]

Hiii it's me again!

I was wandering... Has the donor ever snapped and told the vampires to leave? I'm picturing their reactions as different depending on what time in their relationship it happens but...y/n yelling at them to just LEAVE (after an argument or just when they are fed up and miserable bc of their presence alone) and never come back and one or both of them (physically or with words?) threatening them with "do you think you are the one in control? Or that you have a choice and can order us around?". And the donor is just "do it. I don't care anymore" leaning to their claws??? This is my brairot talking btw so bare with me if it doesn't make sense, but would something like that happen? What would S&M reactions be? I'm very much curious 👁️👄👁️

When tugged at both sides, anyone would snap. You can't exactly afford them to leave, as much as you want them to, your headache would only get bigger. So the furthest you'll go is to order them to leave you alone or leave the house.

When you finally do, the first thing you see on their faces is mostly surprise, somehow neither of them expected your patience to thin this fast. And to your own surprise, they'd concede, maybe with some reluctance, but it would be awfully quiet in the house for the next week or so, to a point of being unnerving.

That's when you realise that maybe, just maybe, you should try to be bolder. To take your own space back, as much as you can.

You'd feel around, walking on eggshells, just to find out that in a lot of things your now housemates don't even mind you to take the lead. If anything, your newly gained liveliness and confidence almost made them seem less intimidating. The knife-like sharpness of their eyes and grins didn't change, but now you somewhat knew how to handle it.

But then you make the same mistake Sun and Moon did with you - push on the wrong button. And even with both vampires towering over you, throwing threats, something clicks.

Have they ever followed through with any of their implied threats? And more importantly -

Would you want to find out if they do?

OK lmao that did not answer your question in any way BUT to be fair it's very difficult to answer djjajd

At the very start you wouldn't be brave enough to, and your attempt to regain control by trying to demand they do as you say would be laughed at, oh what a silly little thing.

When you have known each other for a little while, they'd become just a teeny tiny bit more mindful of how they go about interacting with you, the stakes getting higher the closer you three get.

They are all bark no bite type of guys, despite having done plenty of demonstrating of what they're capable of, never directly hurting you. It does take a while for you to realise that.

But yeah if reader does end up calling them out on said fact as in your example, putting yourself in danger willingly, that's a clear case of you actually finally winning. Both Sun and Moon would be quite distressed by your actions, silently yanking their hand away from you. Moon would angrily grumble something, hurrying to leave the room, while Sun would stand there for a moment with a blank face, before firmly stating "I count on you never doing anything this stupid ever again, yes?" and hesitantly leaving as well.

I doubt they would ever snap back at you when you're distressed, unless they are too.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Shovel Love (Roy)

Roy Harper met the love of his life long past the time he had given up hope for himself. Back when he was only the things he had survived. 

Former sidekick, former addict, former father. 

He might have been past caring, but that didn’t mean he had the right to stop fighting. To stop trying to make a difference. So what if he took some reckless missions? So what if he worked alone, away from everyone else? (They didn’t want him around anyway.)

It had caught up to him in the end. 

He had been betrayed at the height of victory. When he thought maybe, he had done a bit more good in the world and helped an oppressed people topple the regime that crushed them. The revolution had triumphed. And yet, they turned on him all the same.

Roy really should have seen it coming, and some parts of him might have had. Some parts of him might not have minded, not truly. 

(He hadn’t hoped that anyone would show up to save him from his screw-ups. He had learned that lesson a while ago. But he was a fool for love, and maybe… )

Yet before the firing squad was assembled, someone broke him out. 

Why was Roy Harper spared the sweet release of death that day?

Because Starfire and a former Robin heard about the execution and swooped in to save the day. 

Not the former Robin he would have thought though.

(Dick… fuck, Roy and Dick had been matchsticks and gunpowder for a long time now. He wasn’t sure how to just be friends with his best friend anymore. He had not expected Dick of all people, and he had not shown up.)

Admittedly, Roy had had very few thoughts about Jason Todd before the man drove him away from a military base surrounded by tanks and explosions. 

“The only reason I’m here is ‘cause if anything happens to you, that would make me the worst former sidekick ever.”

Bit of an off putting second first impression, right?

And yet… 

And yet. 

Roy had never had someone choose to meet him at the bottom of the barrel. Everyone always expected him to climb out first. 

(He stayed. Of course he stayed. Where would Roy even go from there? No one wanted him. He could deal with a little sarcasm.)

It took a long time for Roy to realize… 

Black sheep to black sheep, did it really matter if one’s wool was darker than the other’s? 

***

Everyone left him. Sooner or later, everyone left Roy Harper. That was the way of the world. 

Dad. Brave Bow. Ollie. The Titans. Lian, oh God, Lian. 

He knew it was his fault. Always his fault, but he just wished someone would stay. 

Even Kori had to leave. For a time. For her people. How could Roy not understand? He did. Of course he did. Gave her his blessings, for all she didn’t need them. But that never made it hurt any less. 

Jason… 

Roy was waiting for Jason to leave too. To get tired of him. 

He’d never been a clinger. He knew. Fuck, he used to know better than to do that. People never wanted all he needed to give and receive. Roy was always too much. Not enough. He had learned a long time ago to be very careful about how much he needed people. 

But this time, just this time, Roy couldn’t help himself. 

(He’d given up hope before. Someone had met him at the bottom, and he hadn’t told him off for not being able to climb out immediately. Maybe that was why.)

He knew he was screwed when random clients started thinking of Arsenal and Red Hood as a matched pair. In for a penny… 

In for a bank account emptying advertising campaign. 

Jason’s unimpressed glare at the Red Arse billboard made Roy grin with all his teeth. Jason had theatrics in his soul, a flair for the dramatic, a passion for the loud and the explosive. He was not fooling Roy with that. He was thinking it was funny. And, judging by the slight blush as he repeated their duo’s name, he was also having other thoughts. 

However, with the ads, other heroes started reaching out to him. 

The first time, Roy might have had an honest to God heart attack. 

He hadn’t even been sure people remembered his phone number at this point. It had been so long since anyone had reached out without heroics attached. 

‘Are you doing alright, Roy?’ Victor. 

‘You breaking into merc work with ads?’ Wally. 

‘Red Arse?’ Dick (Dick! The busiest motherfucker this side of the ocean!) had texted. ‘And you make fun of my jokes?’

Roy hadn’t known what the catch could be. Besides the obvious of it being only a temporary thing that would leave him gutted later. He had answered every text, because he could not afford not to talk to the few people that bothered to think of it. He’d given all of his old friends their check-in, and debated with Dick about who’s humor was the best (Roy). It felt a bit like the old days, the Titans days, before it all went to Hell. 

“Eyes on the prize, Arse,” Jaybird would snark, pulling Roy away from his coms before another one of their missions. 

For a bit, that seemed to be the cycle. Roy would have to be blind not to notice how the messages always seemed to chime in after Red Arse had made a splash in some news. It could only pick up after some dumbasses tried to livestream Arsenal’s death poll. 

Roy stared a bit at the smoking corpses on the ground. He was not particularly shocked, maybe displeased that it had been his own invention that had done such a haunting job, but… 

Whoever hears the bleating of the black sheep but others of his kind? 

“Over three hundred thousand people you don’t know from Adam voted to kill you,” replied the angry ram. “For fun. Because they could.” 

Three hundred thousand… Eh. The people that cared about whether Roy lived or died always seemed smaller than what Roy believed. Story of his life.

“You think I give half a damn about what those people think of us? Of me? Show’s over!”

Two quick bangs of gunshots. Shattered glass and sparking ruins of electronics. 

The two of them left alone, Roy, beaten, extended no mercy but the anger of a former Robin. 

“Jaybird… ”

Jason froze. His whole body stuck in place for a split second, an eternity for a bat, and he muttered something his hood distorted past understanding. Whatever he had been thinking of had slipped out of his mind. 

He crossed the distance between them, and leaned in to whisper: 

“You got that stupid ass nickname stuck in my head, Harper.”

Roy could not be anything but smug (shaking with disbelief, awed, hopeful).

“I knew you’d come to love it.”

Rough hands helped him away from the restraints. Lifted him up to his feet. “Not what I said.”

“It’s okay,” Roy whispered, softer, his arm wrapped around Jason’s shoulders. “You don’t need to admit it. I already know.”

“... You deserve to hear it anyway. You’re too good a person not to be told.”

***

It started with the Titans. 

They always were the one that knew him the best. For all that Jason liked to stay strictly professional in the mask, Roy liked a little spice in their missions. Someway, somehow, it got out. It could have been as simple as the way he looked at his boyfriend obliterating some underworld big shot, or as invasive as a full profile that showed their shared bank account and lease. 

A few weeks into honeymoon bliss, Jason and Roy returned from a mission to find Donna, Garth and Wally waiting for them in their living room. 

Naively, Roy pulled them all into a group hug. “Guys! What are you doing here?”

“We came to see the neighborhood, obviously,” Wally drawled, but his eyes were laughing too. “So boogie!”

“And only fifty percent of your living space is occupied by knicknacks too,” Garth added. 

“Jaybird’s influence,” Roy replied easily. 

“Regardless,” Donna said, “it’s been too long, Roy. We’re glad to see you again.”

“It’s good to be so popular. What have you all been up to?”

From there, it devolved into Titans stories, if under a different name. They’d grown up, and the characters had grown up too, but there was a panache that was too typical of their old days to be called anything else. Roy was all too happy to contribute his own, even if he did not receive help when accused of lying. 

Jason hovered around the edges of the room, setting things up and putting away Roy’s stuff. He expertly slid away from Roy’s attempts to introduce him, with an infuriating amount of bat-like sixth sense. He knew exactly what he was doing too, the ass, winking everytime Roy failed to get his hands on him. 

He played the host instead, supplying snacks that Roy was not even aware had been in their apartment. Damn, now he had even more questions. 

Eventually though… Donna caught his attention and asked: “Roy, could we talk? In private?”

Jason chose to ignore the obvious tension with deliberate obnoxiousness. Clapping both Garth and Wally hard, he pulled them out of the living room. “I’ll go make tea. Those two can keep me company or whatever.”     

Wally rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Roy frowned. That… hadn’t sounded quite right. But okay, Jason was a big boy, he could deal if Wally was being pissy or something. They were all heroes here. 

Donna cleared her throat, sitting down and inviting Roy to do the same with a nod. 

“So, we came because we heard about-”

Jason popped his head back around the corner, and grinned when Donna repressed a jolt of surprise. “Lemon, no sugar, right?”

“...Yes,” she replied.

Carefully.

Roy’s eyebrows ticked at that. 

Donna Troy had rarely needed to be careful around Roy. 

“You heard about… what?” he prompted. 

“I don’t want to say this is my place, but we were something once… and I thought I should tell you something.”

Roy raised an eyebrow and leaned back into his couch. “Okay?”

“It’s the story of the time I teamed up with Kyle Rayner and Jason Todd, to find Ray Palmer and ostensibly save Reality.”

Every instinct cultivated by his heroic career rang the alarm bells, but he owed it to Donna to listen to what she had to say. 

So he listened. 

And his heart sank. His fingers grew cold as he heard what she said, what she explained in as many pretty, diplomatic words, and skipped over the part that seemed most important to him. 

“I…” Donna finished, still so poised. “I understand this is not a pleasant end to the story. And perhaps things are different now, but I would have been remiss to keep quiet. I do understand the desire to give him a chance. I thought the same too back then. But in the end… ”

“That’s the reason you dropped Jason? Because he shot you in a bid to convince an enemy he had switched sides to try to save Reality?”

Donna’s expression was so sympathetic Roy could have screamed. 

He nearly did. Instead, it came out as an incredulous, snide thing. “Because he did exactly what Nightwing would have done in his place?”

Donna’s mouth clamped shut. The realization, obvious on her face, through her widening eyes and her sharp intake of breath. Not that she misspoke or read things wrong. That she lost Roy entirely. 

And it hit him, it hit him all ot once, and Roy found his head falling into his hands. A crackling of despair spreading throughout his chest, a cold sort of disbelief. Why? Why was it always the hurt ones that were afforded so little grace? 

He looked up, through his fingers, through his sorrow, and he forced himself to look straight at Donna and her own shock. 

“He… He always speaks so fondly of you. He’s never had anything bad to say about you. I thought… I really thought, maybe, you were worth his admiration.”

She seemed stricken. Paler. Her hands, neatly folded in her laps, reached forward. 

“Roy, I-”

The hurt in his chest bloomed into anger. “Donna, I think you should leave.”

She rose from her seat, a real panic settling in. 

He didn’t her speak again. She had said enough. “I don’t want you in our apartment anymore. Right now, I don’t want to look at you. You wanted to talk, so we did. It told me all I needed to know. I’ll thank you to never drop by again uninvited.”

Her expression crumpled. For a second, it even looked like she would muster some kind of apology, but her resolve returned, her eyes steel again, and she offered Roy a quick nod before walking out. 

His chest hurt. What… what had that all been about? Donna… Roy had no idea why that had been her line in the sand. She’d dealt with worse. She’d dealt with more annoying. Yet, it had not only been enough to give up on Jason, but to tell Roy to do it as well? 

He… 

Fuck, Garth and Wally.

Roy hadn’t expected to be able to interrupt whatever would be said. Both Garth and Wally were experienced heroes in their own rights, and the kitchen in their apartment was nowhere near isolated enough to muffle the sounds of the other rooms. All three men stood at reasonable distances from one another, dotted around the kitchen, Garth at the far end seat, Wally by the fridge (obviously) and Jason at the counter, with the kettle whistling steam behind him. 

It was a pretty small thing, all things considered. Jason blinked for a second, looked a little confused or maybe off beat. But Jason was a bat. 

And Wally was a goddamned speedster. 

“Wallace Rudolph West,” Roy hissed, the full force of his fury bearing down on his friend.

Wally obviously winced, eyes darting around to Garth. Who looked uncomfortable, if not guilty. 

That was another thing, he realized. Neither of them seemed guilty to be caught or of what they had been doing. Maybe, just maybe, he could have found this whole song and dance embarrassing and a little touching. If he didn’t know that they meant it. 

Whatever fucking threats they had made, they were sincere. 

They had had the audacity to show up to Roy’s home to try and scare off his partner. 

They might not have appeared guilty, but when they saw the look on Roy’s face when he started marching into the kitchen, they did start to back away. 

“Roy, don’t get mad on my behalf,” Jason said, lifting the tray with the tea cups and walking past the two shame-faced Titans.

“Why not? Nobody else is clamoring for that role.”

“With good reason,” Wally muttered, because sometimes his mouth really did outspeak his brain. 

Roy whirled on him, scowl morphing into an outright snarl. “Fuck off! Both of you!”

Wally jumped a good two feet in the air. But, damningly, stayed rooted inside Roy’s kitchen. 

“Are you deaf?! Wallace. Fucking. West. GET THE FUCK OUT, ASSHOLE!”

Garth put up his hands, offering a gentle smile. “Roy, how about we-?”

“OUT!” he shouted as he grabbed hold of the salt shaker and flung it exactly where Wally’s nose had been a fraction of a second ago. 

Colors blurred around him, a split second, the afterimage still burned in his eyes. And then they were gone, and the door to his apartment slammed shut. 

Roy marched right up to it and loudly turned on the locks. 

He waited, listened to the shuffling of feet, to the faint whispering, and finally footsteps fading. Only when he was certain they were gone did he let himself fully digest what had happened. 

Damnit. 

“What did they say?” he said, talking to the door, to the fucking plank of wood that was now separating him from people he used to love so much. 

He couldn’t bring himself to turn, to see anything like fear or doubt or annoyance on his Jaybird’s face. He couldn’t bring himself to face the reality yet, that people he would have eagerly welcomed into their home might just break his newest one. 

“Nothing much,” Jason’s voice tickled the back of his neck, 

He groaned, trying to push down the guilt and fear. “Jaybird…”

There was a brief silence. 

“Wally promised to freeze me in the speedforce for eternity and Garth said something about drowning me. Bit harder to hear him while Wally was demonstrating his ability to make good on that threat.”

I will shoot their kneecaps with bomb arrows. 

“I’m sorry. They should not have said that.”

Jason shrugged, his voice even, unaffected. “Eh, I’m used to it.”

Roy finally turned around, and dared look at his boyfriend’s face. Jason was… well, the same was ever. He had that slanted half-smile tugging at his lips, that hollow swagger. This hadn’t changed anything for him. Roy could cry in relief. It hadn’t changed anything. 

“They… Jaybird, I did not want them to do that.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to the side, to the slant of his lopsided smirk. “Yeah? I know that, Roytoy. I don’t blame you or whatever. If anything, it’s almost sweet. It’s good to know that people do care about your heart. It’s too good to be disregarded so easily.”

Roy gently pressed a hand against Jason’s chest. “What about your heart? Doesn’t it matter?”

“I’ve always been an exception.”

Roy narrowed his eyes, but Jason did not relent. Did not falter. He had always been an exception. And Roy knew enough of his boyfriend’s history to know how that was the worst part of it all. 

“Hey, who knows?” he injected some false cheer in his voice. “Maybe in a bit, I’ll be the one hiding from some bats?”

Jason immediately chuckled. 

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, and smart, and loyal, and so fucking talented, and-”

Roy snorted. “Oh my, all those things?”

“And more. So much more,” Jason replied with a smirk, before dipping Roy over to land a sinful kiss on him.

***

Roy was indeed lucky to be all those things Jason had listed, because no one, be they civilians, heroes or villains, came out and threatened Roy to treat Jason right. 

The Red Hood hadn’t made a lot of friends amongst those. And so few that knew Jason Todd was alive cared about that fact. 

Whilst more of Roy’s family and friends came, they all seemed to close around Roy protectively. They might have heard what he had told the original Titans, because they always seemed to find Jason when he was alone, where Roy couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t react. 

It drove him nuts!

He could even tell when someone had given Jason the shovel drivel, because he always seemed a little more bemused than not those days. 

(One day, Roy feared, he would come back to an empty apartment, and congratulations from the rest of the hero community that he’d finally escaped the Red Hood’s evil claws.)

The closest might have been Rose, but her primary goal had still been to check on Roy himself.

To talk a bit. About Lian.

She hadn’t expected to get attached, when she’d taken the babysitting job. A silly notion. No one could ever resist his Pumpkin’s charm. 

(she was perfect she was gone oh god she was gone)

It was almost nice. 

“If you do break up with the hunk, send him my way,” Rose had told Roy, winking and laughing at her own not-quite-a-joke.

She had not offered any comment for the opposite scenario, and from her, that said it all. There wouldn’t be a hunk to rebound with if Roy was the one broken up with. Ravager had all the tools needed to make it happen. 

“In your fucking dreams, Rose!” Jason had laughed, tossing the TV remote at her head. 

(She refused to apologize or pay them back for slicing it in pieces. Self-defense, she claimed.)

(Jason reluctantly let Roy tinker something up, and their seven-in-one remote with control over radio signals across half the city was a thing of beauty. Of beauty!)

Still no bats leaving him boobytrapped mail or leaving him with overview pictures of himself at some random store. 

(Until Dick-)

***

Roy showed up alone for Christmas dinner. He was the last to arrive. 

The cold seeped through his coat as he hesitated before ringing the doorbell. He could go back. He had time to rush back home and put on his costume and dismantle the ring with the Red Hood. His family would understand. The hero life sometimes called at inconvenient times. 

Except… 

He thought back to the arrow Jason had slapped down on their kitchen counter once, and the encounter that had ended with Ollie and Roy screaming, and the one time Dinah had laid a hand on Jason’s wrist to speak to him softly, dangerously. 

Roy knocked and waited for the door to open. 

His latest set of adoptive parents greeted him with warm smiles and hugs. Inviting him inside. Asking about the journey. Roy had missed the feeling of his family embracing him. 

Soon though, Ollie’s eyes narrowed, obviously darting around for a sign of Jason. They darkened even further once he realized Jason was nowhere in sight. 

“No sign of the Hood, huh? Did he finally stop playing his game or is he just scared to show his face tonight?”

He should leave. This was exactly why Jason had ‘found’ a lead on a massive case just in time to miss the family function. He should explain. 

Roy stayed rooted on the spot. Silent. 

Dinah slapped Oliver’s shoulder and shot him a look. 

“Oliver, can it.”

“What? You also-”

The second hit, more forceful, managed to shut Ollie up. A miracle.

The good feelings of their earlier greetings felt like a distant memory. Why? Goddamnit, why were they all like this now? Nobody seemed to be talking to him about this. Shouldn’t his opinion be the most important part to them? 

Not the first black-haired assassin you’ve dated, Harper, a sardonic voice that sounded like Jason drawled from the corners of his mind. 

“Come in, Roy,” Dinah said, helping him with his coat. “Please. Everyone was waiting for you.”

***

(They put a plate for Lian. Dinah said a speech. Roy cried in his brother’s and sister’s arms the entire time.) 

(He didn’t think he’d ever run out of tears for his little girl.)

***

The evening was already ending when Roy’s dream of a pleasant time with his family crashed. 

The wine had started to flow. A couple of cups here and there. One for each of Roy’s siblings that were still underage. None for himself. 

A few for Ollie. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” he drawled, sitting on the couch, glaring at the Christmas movie playing on the big screen. 

“About what movie to watch?” Roy replied, bemused, gesturing at the TV. “Sorry, but I say Connor picked a good one.”

“About your mob boss boyfriend.”

It was as if all heat had been sucked out of the room. The lights burned, the scented candles wafted their cinnamon scent, the big wool blanket over his shoulder was only stone. His siblings on either side of him, walls. 

“He didn’t show up. Why? Scared of meeting the family? Too big of a commitment?”

“Ollie,” Dinah hissed. 

Roy blinked. “You are not doing this to me right now.”

“Damnit, Roy! How many people have to tell you the Red Hood is bad news? He’s on multiple ‘most wanted’ list! Have you even read the files the Bat wrote on him?”

“Yes! And unlike most of you, I actually know Jason!”

Emiko rolled her eyes. “It’s Jade all over again.” 

Roy glared at her, stung. 

“He hired goons to kidnap your sister! He dueled her with a blade.”

“Hey!” Mia protested. “Don’t make it sound like it was some traumatizing experience. I fought that jerk just fine. But it was a dick move to blow up my school.”

“He saved my life multiple times. I’d have died a dog’s death if not for him. Does that not matter either?”

A stunned silence cut right through the brewing arguments.

“Roy,” Connor said softly, “of course we care about that.”

“I don’t know. Sounds like Ollie would have preferred I stayed away from Jason. And dead.”

Ollie went pale. “N- no, Roy, son, never. I - I just. We keep hearing-”

Dinah let out a resounding sigh and took pity on him. Well, on Ollie, not on Roy. Because she turned to him and with her best ‘therapist voice’ said: “Your friends said you stopped talking to them.”

His grip tightened over his blanket. “Did they mention ‘why’?” 

Again. Another series of exchanged looks charged with meaning. 

They had. Of course they had. His friends did not think they had done anything wrong. They were simply looking out for Roy, who was overreacting.

“Ha!” Roy scoffed, rising to his feet and shrugging off the hands that attempted to pull him back. “Yeah, I’m not talking about that tonight. No fucking way.” 

“Why is he not here then?” Ollie called back after him. “Why won’t he come with you?”

Roy almost punched right through the hallway’s walls. 

“Why do you think?” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Why would anyone want to spend time around you?!”

Roy’s words seemed to have actually hit, as Ollie staggered backward. His eyes went wide, more alert, less clouded by the few glasses of wine he had had. He cringed, alternating glances between Roy, Emiko, Mia and Connor. They shifted awkwardly, trying to find proper words for this.

Whatever. Roy was not staying to listen. Jason had had the right of it. He should not have come.

“Wait.”

Dinah caught his hand. He freed himself, but slowed down around the corner of the living room. The closet with his coat was tantalizing close.

Dinah glanced at it, then took a deep breath. 

“We’re worried that you’re isolating yourself from your support system, Roy. That’s not healthy behavior in a new relationship. Please, don’t blame Oliver for being worried. He… he is well aware that he screwed up with you before. Can we please talk about it?”

Anger was gripping at his throat. Choking him. This boiling flame was spilling from his chest into his limbs. He didn’t want to talk about it again. He didn’t want to have to keep defending his choice in partner with more heroes. He wanted to lean against his Jaybird on the family couch and hold hands under the blankets and laugh at something his siblings had said. He wanted to be trusted and loved and cared for. 

He wanted to leave. 

But leaving would just make them more determined to get involved, wouldn’t it? Was there anything Roy could say or do to make people stop judging his lover?

“Cutting off toxic, two-faced people who have failed to be there for me for years certainly is healthy,” Roy said, acidic. “I’d have thought you would agree.”

Dinah grimaced, avoiding his harsh glare. “Yes, if you really think that’s what they are, then you are right. But-”

“But what? Jason’s not making me do anything. Hell, half the time, he keeps telling me not to get mad when people threaten to gut him. Do you think it feels good to hear that, Dinah? Do you? Somehow, you have all gotten into your heads that I appreciate this behavior. I don’t. They know it. And if they’re not going to apologize, I don’t see why I should let them back in my life. Not that it would make a difference, when people only show up when they think I’m falling off again.”

“Roy, we all care about you.”

“Maybe you do,” Roy conceded. She had been one of the few still there to help him back then. He had not forgotten that. She was half the reason he had given Ollie a chance too. “But this is not how you show it. This is not what I need.”

Dinah held out a hand, almost reaching for Roy, but thinking better at the last second. 

He would have shrugged it off. He would have burned from any attempt to comfort him now.

Roy gestured vaguely to the living room where Ollie’s voice could still be heard. “This? This is hurting me. You are all trying to break one of the few good things I have left. I can’t deal with that. And if it comes true because of you-”

Roy clamped his mouth shut. He pulled back. Stepped back. 

“Roy… ”

“I need fresh air. I… I have to go, Dinah. Thank you for the meal. Give everyone my best wishes.”

***

Snow blanketed the cemetery with a pure, untouched coat of glimmering white. The sounds of the city felt far away, dampened by the winter. They were alone, this early on such a cold day. Just Roy and his Jaybird, walking up the little hill in silence, a bouquet between them. 

Lian would have been rolling down that hill with gleeful shrieks. 

Every day, he saw the world how she would have seen it, and it stabbed him every damn time. It had been years now, and Roy had long since learned that nothing would ever patch up the giant gaping hole in his heart. Nothing would ever truly let Roy heal from losing the light of his life. 

He was a fool, blindly reaching out in darkness. 

He didn’t have a full heart to give anymore. Most of it was in the ground with his little girl. Who would accept such ragged, hollowed feelings? Who’d still think he was worthy of loving with so little to offer in return?

Who, but a man scorned by everyone that should have loved him? 

People that should be on their knees thanking the heavens for a son returned to them. People that, in truth, cursed whatever forces had brought Jason Todd back from the dead. 

Roy felt like scum, like he was taking advantage of the horrors inflicted on his partner, like he used him because no one else would have someone as broken as Roy fucking Harper. 

He felt like scum, because even then, he was too selfish not to cling to the one man that still thought he deserved to be loved. 

Jason helped him kneel down by the tombstone and placed the flowers down. 

Roy traced the name half hidden by the snow. 

“What is it like?” he heard himself ask, a soft lament in the wind. “Being dead?”

The strong body that was pressed against his side tensed. 

Roy’s stomach twisted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. That was cruel.”

A gloved hand closed over his, warm, strong. The slight squeeze pulled him back into his body, away from the clouds of grief that hung overhead. He raised his head, and was met with a saddened smile. Jason’s eyes were a glazed mirror, a pool of a love so tender it struck Roy straight at the heart. 

“It is peace.”

Roy felt the remnants of his ragged heart splinter further. Oh Jason. 

“Eternal peace.” He held Roy’s hands between them, at chest level, at heart level. “Death was a kindness to me, Roy. There was no fear, no pain. No time at all to miss anyone, true bliss.”

He watched their breaths mingle, the wisps of white that tangled and dissipated. He watched, with a longing, with a homesickness. 

“Death is something that was denied to me. It is Life I was cursed with, Roy. And no matter how often I glimpse the other side, the world refuses to let me go back.”

Even if the world changed its mind, Arsenal would have something to say about that. 

“Jaybird, promise me.” Roy retrieved his hands and pushed them against Jason’s chest, trying to make him feel the strength of that wonderful heartbeat. Cupped his chin, like he was holding the world. “Promise me you will live. Promise me you can find value even in something as worthless as my love.”

Their foreheads met, Jason’s eyes still so bright. “I wouldn’t hurt you like that Roy. Heroes have never managed to understand me. They don’t scare me. Death doesn’t scare me. Nor does pain. I won’t leave you for anything. Because… your love isn’t worthless, Roy. Your love is everything.”

It was so little, in the face of that violence. Roy couldn’t be worth the wrath of every paragon of heroics on this side of the ocean. He knew he had never been before. 

Despite all this, he still leaned forward, still caught his Jaybird’s lips. He kissed him with the hope that there was a way out of the barrel, that maybe, two sets of hands would be enough to climb, and if not, to stay warm while winter passed. 

Roy kissed his Jaybird with the promise to love him as no one else dared. 

“You deserve everything. I’m sorry I’m the only one willing to give it to you.”

Jason’s eyes were shining, his lips wobbling and his face a splotchy red. But his voice was steady, as commanding and strong as the Red Hood on the battlefield. 

“She is at peace, I promise you.”

Roy’s breath hitched. Please, he thought, please be true. 

A thumb gently wiped a tear he hadn’t felt fall. “And you will see her again. Give or take a couple decades, I hope.”

Roy leaned in, and kissed his man again. He let himself get lost in the tenderness of that touch, of their embrace. Let this warmth try to compensate for the ever cold in his chest. At times, it almost seemed like it would. At times, he wished that it would. 

Roy was lucky he was handsome and smart and loyal and so fucking talented, because it had landed him this wonderful partner. This man who offered him the sweetest horror, the scariest reassurance, without ever losing that awed look in his eyes, and that softness in those blood-soaked hands. It was blunt. It was harsh.

And by all that was good, it was real. 

You will see her again. She is at peace. 

A sense of content settled over him, and he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed. Couldn’t fight this one moment of joy. Even if he didn’t deserve it, he let himself feel it. 

“And when that time comes,” Roy whispered against his Jaybird’s lips, “I’ll introduce you.”

“That sounds nice.”

Roy did not comment how ‘nice’ sounded like an impossibility in Jason’s voice. He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand, and smiled at the tombstone. Let’s get a headstart.

“Sorry, Pumpkin. I bet you thought it was gross that Daddy was kissing someone, didn’t you? It’s okay now, Daddy got it out of his system. No more kisses, only stories. And he has lots of stories to tell you.”

“Funny stories,” Jason added with a daredevil smirk.

“Hilarious stories,” Roy nodded. “Daddy even got to fight an army of mimes! You were right, Pumpkin, the white make-up did hide their nefariousness!”

“They’re too clown-adjacent to be anything else,” Jason snarked. 

“But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s get back to the start. Our romantic getaway to Paris!”

And Roy let the words flow out of him. Description of the city came to him with a poetry he never had, cut by as many intermissions to reply to the thoughts he knew his smart little girl would have had. Brave tales of the valiant Arsenal and his grumpy, snarky partner Red Hood spun around a web of hushed, excited words around a quiet snow-covered landscape. And Roy kept on speaking, kept catching up Lian on the life Roy was forced to have without her until he could join her. And Roy spoke, until morning passed and the sun reached its apex. And still he had more to say. More to explain. More to say (I love you, Pumpkin. I love you more than the world.).

His favorite parts though might be the moments when Jason took hold of the story, when he snapped a quip that derailed Roy’s embellishments and pushed the story back to Earth. When he stepped up and started recounting the mission gone sideways in much more cynical terms, yet with twice the enthusiasm. 

Roy could almost see his little girl instead of that tombstone. He could see her sitting top of it, bundled up with six layers because Roy got sick easily as a kid and she was like him. He could almost see how she would kick her legs and lose a boot in the snow and then refuse to let Roy help her put it back on. 

Jason would deadpanned something then : “Yeah, Roy, don’t interfere. She’s got it.”

Something like that. Because he’d side with her. Of course he’d side with her. 

If only you two had the chance to meet. 

It was a pretty dream. Roy could picture it without trouble. Roy would be sitting on their couch, Lian on his knees with one of her books, and Jason, coming from the kitchen with some hot chocolates and a quip. It would be perfect, the three of them. 

But they were only two. 

What a pair they make. A father who lost his child and himself, an undead son who came back unloved. 

“I love you, Lian. We’ll come by again soon.”

“Can’t wait to meet you, kiddo,” Jason quipped, and who could tell if he was serious? 

Roy elbowed him anyway. Jason huffed a laugh, slipping an arm around Roy’s waist. Then, he froze, looking ahead. 

His family. All of them carrying their own bouquets. They were a collection of Lian’s favourites, looking like they’d been personally arranged by Dinah this morning. 

Roy felt a rush of affection for them. 

Then, he saw the way eyes darted toward Jason. 

No.

Roy could not do this. He could not do this here, in front of his daughter’s grave. 

“Ollie, if you dare say even one wrong word right now, it will be the last you ever speak to me.”

“Son, I-”

He noticed Roy’s glare. 

Ollie’s mouth clicked shut. His expression shifted as if he was trying to figure out how to phrase his thoughts. But he did not speak. He deflated suddenly, shooting Roy an apologetic look. 

The Arrows moved off the path. 

Jason actually seemed impressed. He would be. How often did people hold their tongues around him? 

“Let’s go home, Jaybird.”

[artist-issues]

Man... just saw your "Captain America: Brave New World" post, and I gotta say I'm definitely disappointed. Unlike many, I actually liked FaTWS, and was hopefully for what they'd do with Sam as Cap. I'll probably still see the movie because I like the character and want to see if for myself, but I'll definitely be tempering my expectations....

I like FaTWS too! I didn’t find it… “disappointing” so much, maybe because I couldn’t help but feel less invested than I did with Steve. Sam just has not been built up and written with the same level of confidence and care that the writers had with Steve.

The first half of the time (Winter Soldier through Infinity War) they were just writing him as Steve Rogers, if you lifted the burden of “symbol” and “man out of time” off of him. Think about it. Sam’s whole tagline was “I do what he does, just slower.” And he’s okay with that.

When we meet Sam, he’s living a normal life despite the fact that he used to be in the “superhero” category. But he’s not in that category anymore, his wings are retired, so we find him still doing good on a more mundane, normal-person level. He counsels vets. Which is a foil to Cap’s baggage. Sam is Steve, freed. Sam is the good guy with the ability to help everybody, who does his job and has everyone’s back…but then he feels the freedom to go home at the end of the day and do good as a normal guy, too. Steve doesn’t have that. Steve can’t have that, until he learns his lesson at the end of Endgame.

In fact, Sam is so free from being The Symbol of Hope when Cap is around that he doesn’t feel bad being antagonistic toward enemies, or being a little petty with friends in moments of high tension. He does have the seeds of “I’ll see good in everybody,” too: he gives Iron Man a chance to help Steve, and he works with Bucky when Bucky’s still freshly brainwashed even if he’s a little snippy about it.

But the thing is, if you have Sam strive to “live up to” Steve, you kind of undermine his relationship with Steve. He’s no Bucky, but he did know Steve. After Winter Soldier, the audience gets to see that Steve trusted Sam before he trusted anybody else. Steve did not have Natasha out looking for Bucky while the Avengers trained. He had one guy doing that: Sam Wilson. Because he was close with Sam, and trusted him. Heck, their first conversation was written around a moment where Steve was just treating Sam like any citizen, politely leaving after their run, until Sam proved he could talk to Steve like a normal, relatable human. “It’s your bed, isn’t it? Too soft?” They could connect.

Sam is also the only one Steve had conversations with about normal, deep issues. “You can do whatever you wanna do. What is it that makes you happy?” Steve isn’t shown having those conversations with Bucky. He briefly starts that conversation with Natasha in Endgame. But the point is that it’s Sam who’s his second best-friend, and their relationship is based on trust, mutual respect, and understanding.

So having Sam suddenly see Steve as a hero-figure to idolize and emulate and compare himself to puts distance between Sam and Steve. Makes them more like fan-and-hero than brothers-in-arms and honest plain friends. Sam didn’t think everything Steve did was perfect or awesome. He was on his side, but he clearly had doubts about the value in trusting or trying to save Bucky, which Steve was committed to doing. So this thing they have Sam doing (and even Bucky doing in FATWS) where he compares himself to this idea of Steve the Perfect Captain America was not a great move, to start out with.

But they made that decision, so let’s talk about how poorly the follow-up was handled. When you take Sam and give him the shield, he can only worry about living up to the symbol for so long. Eventually he has to become our new symbol.

I mean, this is the first example we have of this in the MCU, right? This is the first “one hero audiences love goes away and we have to accept that he passed the mantle down to a different hero.” So they really needed to stick this landing.

Captain America, very specifically, is supposed to be the selfless one. All heroes are selfless on some level, otherwise they wouldn’t be heroes, but the whole tension of superheroes is “I’ve been given incredible responsibility, so what do I do with it?” Iron Man makes it about himself, covering up past wrongs. Spider-Man, too, on a more empathetic level, because of Uncle Ben (in this universe, Aunt May.) There’s a little ego always fighting to break in and ruin selfless assumption of responsibility.

But not with Cap. The Captain America Symbol is supposed to be just that. The guy behind the shield disappears into the symbol—which is, selflessness.

If you have Sam make everything about “I gotta prove myself” and “am I ever enough” then the symbol becomes about him. So it’s ruined. We need him to not care about “living up to” anything. We need him to eventually get over that.

But they like…can’t drop that victim mentality bone they have him gnawing on.

And it just wasn’t one that Sam had before picking up the shield, which is what made him so endearing, and such a good choice, in theory, for Cap, in the first place.

[twinklingwatermellon]

TOP TEN EUNEUN MOMENTS (according to me)

10. Festival scene

The perfection of this scene, Eun Gyeol at his down-baddest and Eun Yoo putting on a brave face while literally going through some of the most distressing moments of her life, and their being kept apart by the (very understandable) misunderstanding and just. wanting to reach out and be comforted but staying behind those barriers. Chef’s kiss.

9. “Tears in Heaven”

The significance of his singing to her, singing this song specifically because it’s part of the connection they share and don’t realize yet, plus the lyrics being so peculiarly perfect for their situation. And the tenderness in his eyes! (This scene is also enhanced by Eun Gyeol’s later conversation with Mr. Choi.)

8. “You’ll be born just fine”

A tiny moment but so perfect because not only does it show off Eun Yoo’s slightly unhinged sense of humor, it’s also a perfect establishment that they are, in fact, on the same page now. And their facial expressions absolutely sell it.

7. “Under one condition”

This is technically a moment between Eun Gyeol and Yichan, but the fact that Eun Gyeol told Eun Yoo he hated her all of three minutes ago and is now publicly declaring his love for her in front of the whole school (and exposing himself to everyone’s anger in response) is simply too iconic and hilarious and to me, wraps up the essence of the show’s character dynamics flawlessly.

6. “Ajumma???”

Their delivery lives rent free in my head, and they just. hate each other so much right here. Kind of a delight.

5. Once more around the block

Am I overly attached to this scene because of the soundtrack playing over it? Maybe. But the way he cares!!! They’ve had the most emotionally and physically exhausting day and then they get this moment to calm down, for Eun Yoo to lie her head on his shoulder and for him to let her rest undisturbed for a few extra minutes. And!! she goes along with it, because she likes his nearness.

4. “You have three seconds”

The layers and layers to this scene. Both of them pushing their own agenda, both of them wary of the other, both of them YAPPING. The way Eun Gyeol goes from oblivious to apologetic to scared for his life to flustered to baffled in the span of like 45 seconds. And the chemistry is chemistry-ing.

3. “That’s the real me!”

My deep and abiding love for this exchange. Eun Yoo calling back to the pool scene and possibly expecting another fake answer, and Eun Gyeol answering her immediately. He doesn’t have to think up an answer anymore, he knows when he started liking her, he knows why and how, and the truth — that he likes her for her, not for her assumed identity — is so blindingly beautiful to her that she can only shout for joy.

2. “I’ll take my time figuring it out”

Obsessed with everything about this scene, from the callback to the last lightning storm, to Eun Gyeol’s promise to both help Eun Yoo get home and also make sure to draw out their time together as long as possible, to the tension. The longing. And the way the scene is structured around what you’d expect to be the most important part — but instead it draws a curtain of privacy around that moment and leaves the emphasis on his promise and how important and heart-fluttering it is to her. Add to that the beautiful OST and Eun Gyeol dancing down the street in joy and you’ve got a perfect scene to feed my mental illness.

1. “Let’s just stay together”

You knew it was coming. I love few things in this world more than a romantic rain scene, and this one deserves the world for so many reasons. The bigness of their emotions leading up to this moment — her whole plan and perception of her past has been shattered, and she runs away in distress, and he runs after her! He runs through the airport in desperation, he can’t lose her. They’ve been yelling and fighting and sobbing and everything feels like so much, but when he finds her everything slows down, everything can be still and he can just speak honestly. He wants to stay with her. The objections don’t matter. What matters is he wants to be by her side. He wants to shield her from the storm. And she takes his hand and stands up again and suddenly everything is a little less bleak, a little bit warmer. Plus Master watching them in satisfaction that they’ve found their helper? CHILLS.

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [1] | Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# SFW, fluff, light comfort, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, smoking, implied depression, implied trauma, old men just doing their best, dad energy, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet The Kids

Notes: Yes, this will have more parts to it! I'm editing the next bit as we speak (beheh) and it should be up within the week? Maybe? I keep bouncing around from draft to draft, so finishing parts can take a while, pls forgive :pray:

--Smoke Break--

You were just another hero. There wasn't much else to it, you'd decided, and in joining the Spider Society, the same rang true--Miguel didn't think much of it, you didn't think much of it, none of the others did, either. It wasn't a bad thing, no, it was just how it was when one gathered hundreds of superheroes together. Everyone was special in their own worlds, so being a cut above the rest when you were all insane super freaks was exceptionally rare.

Miguel O'hara, however, proved to be exceptional.

Even after all the time that stretched on, he still existed as an anomaly of sorts within HQ. Cool, calm, collected, he led everyone with his head held high and his words resonating like a church bell; everything he said became gospel, everything he said affected their way of saving the multiverse.

Miguel knew that.

You knew that.

Most thought him invincible, unyielding and unforgiving towards the laws of the multiverse, and most admired his dedication. You knew troops clicked well with strong leaders, that they felt secure in their mission and battles when lead by a brave soldier, but your experience-trodden understanding burned in the forefront of your memories.

To you, it was obvious. If you watched his back long enough, if you too often caught glimpses of what he thought were well-hidden tells, the fracturing became all too easy to see.

Miguel was breaking.

You knew that feeling well, the feeling of being unable to bend anymore, to have your limits pushed and surpassed, yet still somehow stay intact and working, like a frayed web.

Maybe that was why you couldn't keep him off your mind. Maybe your primal loneliness, the weeping cracks you'd endured on your lonesome, resonated with another's. Maybe it begged you to do something while you still had the chance.

--

You'd come to see him one day to force some baked goods into his hands and leave, the excuse that you and your daughters had made too much armed and ready on your tongue.

Yes, you were caring, and yes, fine, you were a bit awkward approaching your fearless, strict, hard-ass of a leader with a piece of pie in your hands like you were at some fucking chummy pot luck or parent-teacher night, so you needed an excuse, something to veil your heart. Were you supposed to tell him you were worried about him, or something? No, no, that'd come later (if there was a later).

You expected to see his broad back turned to you, to hear him mumbling to himself or talking into comms; instead, you found him tucked away in the corner of the lab, sat in an old desk chair, napping. His arms rested crossed over his chest, and his head hung down. It was reassuring, a nice reminder that Miguel, too, was mortal just like yourself

The corner of your mouth twitched into something fond and lopsided, though barely there, before quietly, slowly, you left the Tupperware container on his stage console and saw yourself out. You couldn't bear the thought of waking a fellow "old man" from a much-needed nap.

--

Time stretched the way it usually did; missions assigned, spiders injured, anomalies captured--nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary.

But, shit, were you tired. You were always tired, sure, but these days the stress of life and love threatened to break more of you down and grind you into dust. It must have felt terrifying. But you couldn't feel it. Your mind wouldn't let you.

The smoke from your cigarette burned your lungs as you inhaled, grounding you, and reminding you of your existence. You sighed, thankful, and rested your head back against the outside wall of the secluded little balcony you'd found in your mindless wandering. Smoking inside always got you an earful from anyone and everyone in all dimensions, anyway, so you figured you'd skip the scrutiny and take it outside right away. Besides, it was easier to think and wallow this way.

But the door beside you slid open, ruining your quiet. You sighed, letting your eyes fall closed, waiting for the intruder to say something, do something, make themselves known. Seems they weren't in a rush, however.

You cracked an eye open, and spied him. He stared out at the city, his city, and held a clean Tupperware box in his hands. Miguel's fingers drummed against its sides in thought. His twitchy, fidgety restlessness made him too endearing.

"Finished the whole thing, eh?" You asked, cigarette hanging limply between your lips. "Guess you really do have a sweet tooth."

Miguel huffed a laugh, short and sweet, before handing back the box. "Yeah, well, can't say no to homemade food. Besides, Peter stole some." His face soured, nearing an annoyed pout.

"Ah. Bastard." You took the box back, words of gratitude light under your breath. "I'll give him a piece of my mind later."

"Let me know how that works out since, well, that Peter doesn't listen to anyone." Miguel crossed his arms.

"Pretty sure he just doesn't listen to you, Boss."

"Oh, great. Even better." Miguel was smiling, despite his annoyance. His eyes, warm and sullen like those poppies from your memories, flickered over to you, drawing your gaze. You'd never had the chance to speak to him so intimately, to be the only one standing beside him. It felt like a privilege, but it was too mundane to be so. You welcomed it.

"Didn't take you for a baker," Miguel said. His eyes followed your fingers plucking the smoke from your mouth. "Or a smoker."

You sighed as you glanced down at the wisping cigarette. "Yeah, well. I'm not much of the prim and proper hero type, I guess."

Miguel tilted his head, curious. "Never even had a phase?"

You thought back, far back, but shook your head. "Nah, I don't think I ever really had any pep in my step. Not that I can recall, anyway." You took another drag to suffocate resurfacing memories. "...A lot happened before Spiderman happened." For a long moment, you watched the smoke coil. So did Miguel. "But you? I can definitely see you as a peppy youngster."

Miguel sighed, something exasperated and light. "Dios, you're making us sound old."

"Aren't we?" You quirked a brow, almost smiling as Miguel put his hands on his hips. "What, you think we're young when we got kids like Hobie and Gwen running around? Damn, Pav too. That kid's the epitome of 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman.' Don't even get me started on May--"

"Okay, okay, stop, stop, stop," Miguel motored out, raising his palm to defend against the painful truth. "I get it. Y'know, talking to you is a lot more humbling than I thought it'd be."

Oh. You laughed. It surprised you with how it exploded past your defenses, choked and ugly, hampered by the plume of smoke in your lungs. Your hand waved at Miguel as you got lost in your fit, tears pricking your eyes and a smile aching unused muscles.

"Y-you're a dick," you eventually wheezed. "Humbling?"

Miguel smiled, too smug. "It's just been a while since I met another miserable bastard."

"Is that self-awareness?" You flicked ash from the end of your cigarette and shook your head, the aftershocks of laughter still shaking your voice. "Incredible. Inspirational, even."

"Alright, now who's being the asshole here?"

"That'd be me."

"Ah. Self-awareness."

"What can I say? You've inspired me. Such a good leader."

"Yeah, well, inspiration and good leadership come with a fee." His eyes flicked to the Tupperware tucked under your arm.

Your brows raised. Huh. Unexpected. But you nodded, and tapped more wasted ash onto the ground. "You're lucky my kids like to bake. You got a hankering for anything?"

Miguel's lips parted, surprise painting his face cool shades. He blinked then, breaking from whatever spell he found himself in, and ran a hand through his hair. "I--ah. Yeah, just, anything. Whatever your kids want."

"You're gonna regret that, but hey, your call." A comfortable silence fell for a few beats before, very unlike your blasé self, you pressed for the sake of curiosity: "So? Were you a plucky youngster? Sparkling eyes, heroic intentions 'n all that."

Miguel's gaze, pointed at the city, stared through the buildings and perhaps into a time you were not privy to. The tightening of his jaw told you more than you needed to know.

"Yeah, I guess I was." Miguel took a step and rested his elbows on the railing of the small patio. "Things weren't easy back then, but..."

"You didn't have to look after the multiverse?" You wondered, voice soft. The other's unshakeable shoulders slumped. You stuck the cig back in your mouth as you thought about your own history, about what you wish you had the chance to do, about who you could have been, who you wanted to be.

"Did you at least get to live a little?" You asked, maybe a little bit to yourself.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah. But I think I started really living after I became Spiderman."

Somehow, you understood.

"Kinda ironic."

"You're telling me. But it was eye-opening. Life-changing, in a bad way, in a good way." He paused before nodding with contemplative shrug. "Humbling."

"Hm. More humbling than me?"

"If you can believe it."

You snorted and shook your head. "Guess I have no choice."

He hummed, agreeing. Miguel turned, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms as he regarded you. "You must've had a 'the hero is born' moment," Miguel suggested more than he asked. "We all do." And he was right, logistically--if you were all Spiderman, you all had to have a moment where you really became a hero.

So, you thought for a long, slow moment.

But too quickly did something find a soft, hollow place to fester in your chest. The pain pierced so like losing yourself in December's glacial lakes, so wicked with languid tortures and polar punishments. The pain could fade if you stopped fighting, if you let the water pull you into the peaceful darkness, but you'd indulged in the shameful malady of shadows too many times; your patience and self-loathing had grown so thin.

You don't need to remember, the lady of the lake would whisper to you, voice dripping with tears in a way that sounded so much like her. She lulled you, she pulled you back in, she urged you to turn her way instead of fighting her, instead of reaching for the roiling inferno that was the past. In those moments, in her arms, you never knew if you'd find your way back to the surface, but you were not one to obediently decay in ignorance.

Her wail filled your mind as you breached the blaze, and found that sunny day in the Bronx, with the wind carrying the honeyed scent of summer life when you'd met that pretty little thing from the flower shop...

You twitched a smile. "Well...I guess I--"

"Hey," Lyla suddenly cut in, blipping into existence between Miguel and yourself. The level of relief you felt upon being saved from talking about yourself was unhealthy, but you silently thanked Lyla for it: memories of the blaze and the ice could be put aside for a while longer.

The sprite adjusted her sunnies before continuing, "totally loving the bromance here, really cute, but we got a new anomaly that needs some extra love. You guys feel like kicking some bad guy butt, buddy-cop style?"

"Sure," you cut in before Miguel could. You need out of this conversation now. "I call bad cop. Wanna see good cop Miguel butter up a baddie."

Miguel twitched. "Hey--"

"Oooh, me too," Lyla agreed, nodding sagely.

"I don't think I like you two being on the same side--"

"Let's get the show on the road, Boss." You butted your cigarette out on the wall and set down the container. A warm sunset glow bloomed across you as a portal whirled open, shimmering and humming.

You tapped his chest playfully with your knuckles. "Last one there buys me a six pack."

With a hop, skip, and a jump, you were gone.

Miguel rubbed his face. Lyla fluttered around his head. "Well? Better go after him, good cop."

"You. You aren't allowed to team up with him," Miguel stated as he headed towards the portal. "Starting now, colluding is not allowed."

"Oh, what? Sorry, connection's getting fuzzy--"

"Lyla, don't--"

"Sorry--shhhrk--breaking up--" and she, too, disappeared.

Miguel rolled his eyes. His mask materialized over his face as he followed you, a comfortable fondness resting in his chest, chasing out any turmoil the day had brought him.

Good cop. Bad cop. It was stupid, childish, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was a dumb little something that he needed.

[allykatsart]

(In your mortal radi au) Does pk miss the white lady, did he go to the garden to see/serch her ?

I know that she isn't the most important character but still....

Does he even love her anymore ?

Mortal Radiance AU

These are some good questions, and they actually got me thinking a lot. I didn't really include the White Lady in my story or touch on her much. I did have one comic idea with her but it got cut to keep the story from veering off track.

Now that I'm done, though.... This is a very fascinating question.

(5 days later)

Slams paper on table

HEY SO I WROTE A THING

I am ill for weeks after I am pulled back into reality. Something about all my pieces not quite being together means I take longer to recover than She did. She tells me that it is fine, that I need to recover my strength so I can work. We still have many graves yet to dig. She will shoulder the burden for this little while.

I am told my children are informed of my new existence, though none have visited. And I do not leave to visit them. Two of them terrify me, though for vastly different reasons, and the thought of meeting again with my daughter troubles me.

When I can finally get out of bed without assistance, I do not go see her, however. I go see my Lady.

It is hard navigating without being everywhere at once. I know the path to my Lady's garden intimately, but the path is far more difficult than I recall. Greenpath, surely, has had no caretakers, so runs rampant with overgrowth. The thorns catch on my robe and tear at my skin.

I bleed something dark and smokey.

I try not to think about it too much.

My Lady's branches spill out above the entrance to her hideaway. The corpse of brave Dryya. Once a friend, now only a carcass decorating my Lady's garden. Old blood coats her blade and shell. Even in death, she seems stalwart.

I am stalling.

The White Lady stirs as I enter her chamber. Her eyes, once the purest blue eyes I have ever seen, are clouded now. She wears age like a shawl, it weighs on her shoulders and bunches up around her neck. Her face, once pale and youthful, now is tired and wrinkled. Yet, there is a beauty there of which I could never seem to word. A thousand poets could never do her justice. I should know, I have had them try.

"Child? Is that you again?" Her voice is as I recalled, and a sharp pain creases my soul. I will never again be able to call back to her.

She has bound herself, so I move forward until I am right under her. Still, her cloudy eyes do not recognize me at first, and I cannot blame her for it. Not for the first time, I wish the vessel had left me my voice. There are so many things I could say to her, so many words that now I will never be able to reach.

My Lady's eyes finally find my hollow sockets, and she gasps. It is a small thing, barely audible, but in the silence of our meeting I know to look for it. There is a moment between us of unspeakable agony.

"You." The Pale Queen finally breathes the world, and it breaks the aching quiet.

I put a hand on her bindings, 'Me' I wish I could say.

There are so many words I wish I could say. There is so much between us. Good and bad in equal measure. It has been years since we have been face to face, and I thought it would never again happen. I find myself unprepared for this moment.

She does not need my reply. My Lady knows me better than I know myself sometimes. She smiles, though it never quite reaches her eyes.

"You are smaller than I remember."

I laugh, as best I can laugh anyways. I point to her, and gesture that it is perhaps she who has grown taller. It takes her a moment to understand, but the chuckle I earn fills what is left of my soul with joy.

"Perhaps." She concedes, "I have grown much, and still have much to grow still."

Her eyes dim suddenly at that, and she looks around.

"Where is our child?" She asks at last, voice soft and weathered.

I tell her, as best I can, that I do not know. That I came to see her. I expect this to lift her spirits. It does not.

"Did you see this outcome?" She asks.

I pause for a moment. There is much to that question that I do not know. In part, it is hard to remember what it was like. How did I describe it to my daughter? Like a great root that I scuttled across, observing paths unseen to most.

I shake my head. It is too slow and uncertain for my own liking. But it is as much of the truth as I can muster.

There is a long silence that follows. I have gotten used to those, especially with Her. She rarely talks to me at all. So I wait for my Lady's response with all the patience that I have learned.

"Was it worth it?"

Her voice is so soft when she speaks, like it could crack under the gentlest of touches. Delicate, and heartbroken. With four words I can feel what little ground we shared start to shatter.

"Was any of this worth it, I wonder?" She continues, "I do not think I know anymore."

And there is a gap between us. An aching maw of a chasm that threatens to swallow us whole. I want to cross it. I want to reassure her that we had done our best, that we were not to blame.

Yet the words I was once so masterful with are gone now. The voice I would use to soothe and heal her pain now is no more. So there is silence.

Anything I would say to her would be a lie, anyways.

[partoftheband04]

The Last to Make It Home (with myself I am not so forgiving) - part two

Word count - 3.5k

Summary - After the events of last night, you realise that maybe you and Sam should have a conversation before you throw everything away.

Warnings - some angst

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

You must have snoozed your alarm at least ten times before you finally decide to get up (and by get up you mean picking up your phone and continuing to lie in bed as you swap between different apps). As it was a Saturday you had no need to get out of bed for the entire day, the thought alone after the previous night’s events was enough to nearly send you into a spiral.

The warmth of your blankets and comfort of your favourite music was all that you needed to get through the day, that was until one of Sam’s songs started playing - of course. You immediately disconnect your phone from the speaker, haphazardly throwing it across the length of your bed, a huff leaving your lips as you bury your face in your arms.

Trust yourself to make a mess out of something that was so perfect.

But that was the problem, it wasn’t perfect, but Sam couldn’t see that. He was too busy being caught up in the attention and fame of it all to even notice that you were suffering. You can’t fault him for that though, this was what he’d always wanted, and in truth you should have gathered the courage to communicate things rather than expecting him to read your mind.

Your phone starts buzzing from the pile of blankets you had thrown it on top of, but you ignore it. Already, you know it’s either Sam or one of your friends ringing you to ask just what the hell had gotten into you, and you simply don’t have the energy to argue with anyone right now.

You sit with your thoughts for a little while longer before eventually deciding you should get up and start your day, sleepily heading for the kitchen to make yourself some tea - hopefully something to calm your racing heart at the thought of your mistakes.

Always too stubborn, it simply wasn’t in your nature to go back on your decision, as much as your heart was begging you to. And, deep down, you know that something had been wrong within your relationship for a while, you were just too bust attempting to cover up the cracks to even notice how big they were getting.

You had loved Sam for too long, hopelessly devoted, and unwilling to let him go until there seemed to be no other option. Maybe you had overreacted, in his mind you most definitely had, but you wouldn’t have made such a difficult decision if part of you didn’t think it was right. You were trying to be smart for once, think with your head instead of your heart like you often tended to do with your boyfriend.

You don’t think you’ll ever love someone as much as you love Sam… don’t think you’ll ever stop loving him at all. A scary thought, one that brings tears to your eyes and the pressure of panic to your chest, but you try your hardest not to let it consume you.

There will be someone else out there for you.

Surely?

You sit alone with your thoughts for a while, not sure exactly how long, but the ticking of your clock seems to have been echoing throughout the living room for at least a couple of hours with the way you’ve gotten so used to it. Time you fear you’re wasting but not sure what else to do with it.

You’d been with Sam for so long now that you’re not exactly positive as to what you’re meant to do without him, your weekends mostly spent with him either on dates or simply spending time together. 

The more you sit and think the more you feel like your head is going to implode from the currents of anxiety swimming in your mind. 

A knock on the door breaks you from your self-inflicted torture. 

Heading towards the door, your blanket wrapped safely around your shoulders as some form of protection against what lies behind the barrier, you brave answering the visitor.

If it’s Sam, you’ll just close it, not having the strength to talk about the situation anymore.

Opening the door with fear pooling in your stomach the sense of relief washes over you as you meet concerned eyes on the other side.

Dean stands there and although you can tell he’s worried about you, his firm stance suggests he means business.

Without a word, he lightly brushes past you through the entryway to your house, taking a seat on your sofa in the exact place you’ve been sat most of the day. Having your safe space taken away from you causes vulnerability to wash over you, meekly standing in the doorway to the room not sure what to do with yourself if not wallow in pity in your newly assigned spot.

He pats the spot next to him as you weakly shuffle towards him, dragging your feet as you go as a sign of some sort of protest. He knows you don’t want to have this talk, but he also knows you need it.

“What’s up then?” he asks.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know Dean; I’m sure Sam has told you about what happened.”

He sighs. “Despite what you may believe, Sam has barely told me anything. All I’ve managed to get out of him is that you’ve ended things with him. Other than that, he’s been glued to his phone all day trying to get in contact with you. I told him to just come here and talk to you in person but he ‘didn’t want to push any boundaries you had set’, so I’ve taken the duty as my own.”

You can’t help but feel bad that Dean is spending his Saturday relaying messages between the two of you as if this was school playground drama. You’re all grown adults and should be able to have these conversations yourselves.

But the fragile part of you was grateful that it wasn’t Sam who showed up on your doorstep.

Your brain hasn’t seemed to process what Dean has said, a response unable to leave your lips as you try and find a way to justify everything to your boyfriend’s best friend in your mind in preparation for when he inevitably asks.

“Sweetheart,” he pauses as he carefully considers how to approach it. “What’s going on with you?”

A single tear runs down your cheek and before you know it, you’re breaking out in sobs, tears that you haven’t allowed yourself to cry in so long.

Mumbles of “I don’t know”’s sneak out in between your cries as Dean pulls you closer to him in a tight hug you didn’t even know you needed until now.

“How long have you felt like this?”

Again, the only answer you can provide him with is “I don’t know”, until he looks at you sternly, silently begging for a clearer response.

“A while, I guess,” is how you sum it up. “A long time maybe? But recently it’s all crept up on me and it just got so bad. I didn’t know what else to do Dean, I just wanted it to stop for a while.”

“And breaking things off with Sam? Has that made you feel better about everything?”

You mull the question over in your mind, but you don’t come up with anything definitive.

“I don’t really feel much of anything at all,” is the pathetic excuse you provide. “I wouldn’t say I feel better, but it feels like one less person I have to pretend to be okay around.” You laugh at your own words, though Dean doesn’t seem to find it funny. “A pretty significant one at that.”

“Do you really think this is the best decision for the both of you?”

Maybe not for you, but it is for Sam. You don’t have the courage to say that out loud though, knowing Dean will firmly disagree.

“I don’t know Dean. But I also don’t know if us staying together is what’s best either. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m holding him back while I’m lagging behind everyone else. It doesn’t feel good when your boyfriend is off doing great things whilst your stuck in a shitty town, doing a shitty job and just feeling overall shitty constantly when he’s on top of the world.”

“Don’t you dare call our town shitty,” he attempts to joke, and granted, it does pull a small chuckle out of you as you hold your hands up in mock surrender. “Just because he’s doing something different to you doesn’t mean that what you’re doing is ‘shitty’.”

“Funny, because Sam basically said the same thing.”

“That’s because he’s right- “

“No,” you cut him off. “That’s because both of you are doing the same thing. You can’t see it from my perspective. You can’t understand why everything in my life feels so… wrong.”

“Everything?” he asks, looking as if it’s hit him just how deep this feeling runs inside of you.

You sigh, not really knowing where to steer the conversation from this point. You rub your hands across your face in frustration, knowing he won’t ever be able to relate to how you’re feeling.

“Yes, Dean. Everything.”

He pauses for a moment. “Even Sam?”

You don’t know how to explain your feelings to him in a way that he’ll be able to comprehend. Because, no, you and Sam together has always felt right. But the feelings you’ve been having about yourself in the relationships feel so, so awful that surely something was wrong.

“I don’t know Dean,” is what you repeat. “Something’s been off. He says he couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it, but that’s because he’s never fucking here. He doesn’t see how I’m hurting; he never picks up the phone when I need him, and when he is back, we barely spend any time together alone because he has so many other people that he needs to catch up with.”

You finish your rant with a huff, feeling slightly better for letting it out, though it barely scratches the surface of your issues. 

As Dean opens his mouth to speak his phone buzzes beside him, a picture of Sam appearing on the screen as the ringtone plays between the silence of you both. He looks at you as if asking permission to answer it, you just bow your head silently as you wait for him to start his conversation, suddenly incredibly invested with your lap and the beds of your nails.

“Alright, mate?”

There’s muffled chatter on the other side of the phone that you can’t make out.

“Yeah, I’m at her house,” he looks at you with an awkward apology on his face. “I told you I was coming over here.”

There’s a quiet response before Dean answers. “I’m leaving soon, I’m coming back over to yours straight after though.”

At least Sam gets some sort of warning.

He hangs up the phone after a quick goodbye, looking towards you again, ready to continue the conversation. 

Before he can start though, you butt in. “I think you should just go to Sam’s Dean; I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you on your own-“

“I’ll be fine,” you reiterate firmly, trying to stand your ground.

He looks conflicted, not wanting to push you, but also clearly worried about leaving you to your own devices.

“Okay,” he decides eventually. “But you need to talk to Sam.” You attempt to argue but he doesn’t give you any room. “I’m serious. You’re both upset, and I think you both need to have a proper, productive conversation about everything. You need to really tell him how you feel, give him chance to fix things before you just give up.”

He gives you a hug, one that lasts longer than your usual ones, as his attempt to reassure you that you’ll be fine.

“Come down to the pub tonight? Please? It might make you feel better. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

It’s a given that he’ll be there, but at least you’ve been given permission to not speak to him if you don’t wish to.

You spend the rest of the day after Dean leaves contemplating on whether you should go to the pub or not, eventually deciding that you’ve sat in self-pity long enough and should see the outside world at some point today.

You don’t bother to change into a more presentable outfit, you don’t bother putting makeup on (no doubt there’s still tear tracks along your cheeks), you can’t bring yourself to put in the effort.

Just leaving the house is a success in your books.

As you approach the doors to The Lowlights it starts to hit you what you’re doing and, more importantly, who’s going to be there. But it’s too little too late as another friend of yours also heading inside wraps an arm around your shoulder and hauls you inside, clearly oblivious to what has occurred over the last twenty-four hours.

It’s almost comical how your eyes immediately find Sam’s from all the way across the room. Once again, he’s stood with a crowd surrounding him, it’s a wonder you could even see him through the mob of people.

You look away as quickly as possible and find your seat next to Dean, sharing a look between you as a silent agreement to not bring anything serious up tonight, you just want to forget for a while.

Although it seems you aren’t going to get that privilege as you hear Sam call your name and start walking towards you.

He sits right next to you, sideways on his chair to face you directly. He talks quietly, trying not to draw any attention to the two of you, though it’s quite hard when one of the individuals involved in the interaction is quite literally famous.

“Please, can we not do this here,” you mutter quietly, eyes downcast as you will your tears not to fall. You don’t want to embarrass yourself further in front of him.

“If you won’t talk here that’s fine, I understand, but please can we just go somewhere else and have an actual conversation.”

You finally take a proper look at him and realise he doesn’t look much better than you do. Dark rings circle his eyes that hold a sadness you don’t think you’ve ever seen in them before.

Realising you’re trapped, you give a small nod as he takes your hand and you both stand up, ready to leave the pub despite only arriving a few minutes ago.

You say goodbye to your friends, who all seem confused as to your early departure. Dean wishes you luck as you hug him goodbye and, before you know it, you’re walking hand in hand with Sam down the same streets as last night. 

You both walk in uncomfortable silence until you reach the front steps of Sam’s house, slightly annoyed that he’s chosen his own house to have such a difficult conversation, but realistically there wasn’t many options other than your own place. Someone was always going to feel slightly disadvantaged. Part of you just wishes you could sit in the comfort of your own home for when your heart inevitably shatters even more.

He bypasses the living room and heads straight for his bedroom, where you usually spend most of your time together. As you sit down, he takes both of your hands in his.

Always understanding, he starts, “I don’t want to push you. I really don’t want to force you to talk if you don’t want to, but I need to understand what’s going on inside your head. Please, just try and explain it to me.”

You take a while to think about it, Sam sits patiently opposite you, giving you time to gather your thoughts and process exactly how you want the words to spill out of your mouth.

“I feel like there’s too much going on up here,” you say as you lightly tap your temple, “to even begin to properly explain. I don’t fully understand it myself. I just know I shouldn’t feel this way.”

He looks devastated at your confession but stays silent, waiting for you to continue, allowing you to talk in your own time.

“And- I don’t want to blame it on you, because it’s not your fault. But you’re just never here anymore, and I miss you so much, and it’s like you don’t even notice that something might even be slightly off with me anymore, never mind an issue this big.”

He nods his head, processing everything you say carefully. “What’s got you feeling so upset, other than me not being here? You said last night that you feel like you’re holding me back.”

You take another minute to think precisely about how to convey your feelings, taking Dean’s advice and attempting to have a productive conversation. 

“I guess I just feel, I don’t know, kind of insignificant. Like, what I’m doing in life doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. You’re doing such as amazing things, and you’re so good at your job when I don’t even really care about mine.”

The feelings overwhelm you all at once as you start to cry quietly whilst relaying your feelings. His hands come up to your face to wipe away your tears, but he still sits quietly and lets you explain further.

“I can’t even remember the last time you asked me how my day at work was, it’s like it doesn’t even matter to you. And I always let it slide because I know you’re busy and I know you have more important things to worry about.” You’re almost hyperventilating as you talk, trying to get your words out in between cries before you don’t have the courage to talk anymore. “I just wish sometimes that you cared about what I was doing with my life too. I know I hate my job, and you know that too, but you caring so little about it probably adds to that problem in all honesty.”

He's crying now too, and you can’t help but think you’re just repeating the events of the night before. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you don’t matter, like your job doesn’t matter, I’ve just been so busy- “

“I know Sam, I know you’ve been busy, that’s why I haven’t brought it up this whole time. You have more important things to worry about.”

“Nothing is more important to me than making sure you’re okay, nothing is more important than making sure you know that you matter.”

Admittedly, hearing the words out loud from his own lips does make you feel better, it does provide you with some hope that maybe this could be fixed… if he really means it.

“You just have this big life now, and everything’s so different. You’re surrounded by all these gorgeous women, talented people that seem to fit with you so much better. We don’t have much in common anymore, you’re in an entirely different sphere.” “Woah,” he grasps your shoulders firmly. “No one is ever going to understand me the way that you do. This whole time I’ve been away from you in the studio has been filled with me writing and recording songs about you. Not once has it even crossed my mind that someone else might be better for me. You’re beautiful, no woman is ever going to make me see you differently than that.”

You find his words hard to believe, but they still give you some comfort as you start to realise that you were throwing everything away over your own insecurities. You don’t say anything in response, so he continues.

“I love you,” he states firmly. “Only you. There’s no one that matters as much to me as you do, and I’m going to start showing you that. I know I’m going away again soon but we can work through it. I’ll phone you every day, I’ll make sure you’re okay, I’ll ask about your work. I’m going to let you know how important you are to me and how much I love you all the time, so much you’ll get sick of me.”

You let out a wet chuckle, tears still falling down your face, though you feel more comfortable now, you feel like you’re heading in a positive direction. 

“But- “

That scares you.

“You’re going to have to start properly communicating how you feel to me too. It has to work both ways.”

You nod in agreement, understanding where he’s coming from and silently promising that you’re going to put in the same effort as he does.

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay.”

Rather than going back to the pub you decide to simply stay in, curled up against Sam’s chest in his bed as you feel his heartbeat against your ear. It wasn’t going to be magically perfect when you both woke up in the morning, nothing was going to change overnight, but you felt peace at the thought that you and Sam have the strength to work through this.

For the first time in months, you had a restless sleep, ready for what the future holds.

[filletedfennysnake]

💛🧑‍❤️‍💋‍🧑 For the ask game :^)

💛 (Sibling Dynamic That is NOT the Orkneys): okay so I know I’ve talked about this in the discord and pretty much all of it is in the realm of Headcannon Land but. daniel dindan brunor. I’ve thought about them so much… daniel, the oldest brother and the favorite, the only cis man and therefore the only child who could live up to his father’s expectations. dinadan, the middle child who can’t win– when he tries to apply himself to knightly activities, his father attribute his failures to his being intersex, and when he engages in things he actually enjoys (like music), his father insists he should stop because it’s not ‘manly’ (never mind that most knights know how to play an instrument). And baby brunor, the ‘daughter’ who knows he can never be open about himself so long as his father is alive, but secretly wishes to earn his respect. They’re probably equally spaced in age (maybe like a five year difference? Their mother probably had a lot of children but only they made it to adulthood), although dinadan and brunor are closer since dinadan basically raised him after their mother died in childbirth. dinadan was the more involved, naggy older brother who made sure that brunor ate and slept and had fitting clothes, whereas daniel was the detached, cooler older brother who taught him jousting and swordplay. daniel left home to go questing at a rather early age because he just. couldn’t take living with his father anymore (the guilt of leaving dinadan and brunor behind would never really leave him). dinadan got kicked out of the household some years later. After brunor sr. died (may or may not have been at the hands of his youngest son and not lancelot, as is so often claimed) brunor took his name, pronouns, and coat and set off into the world. what else. I think all three siblings have a weird relationship with dagonet. brunor thinks they’re in an age-gap situationship (They’re not. They’re the same age), dinadan has an antagonistic rivalry with him concerning who’s the Silliest Guy (dagonet thinks they’re flirting, but dinadan actually just. genuinely hates him). daniel had a fling with him once. dagonet only realized that all three of them were related years after the fact

🧑‍❤️‍💋‍🧑 (Crack Ship): there’s a fic that lives entirely in my head wherein enide and griflet are forced to spend the night in a spooky, secluded manor. a little will-they-won’t-they interspersed by flashbacks about eric’s shitty behavior (which build off each other– there’s a narrative happening in the present, in which enide has her own agency and is traveling with a dear friend who respects her, and one in the past, in which she’s. well basically I think eric abused her. god I’m so glad we all hate him). it would be a short fic; three chapters max. the climax would be 1) learning that enide killed eric with a dagger a couple years ago, with griflet helping her hide the body and 2) enide and griflet having sex. and then they would stay friends and not mention it ever again… anyway I think the dynamic would be neat. in erec et enide, griflet becomes a good pal of eric’s (at least I think that’s griflet. chretien used a spelling variation yet in gerald morris’ retelling, the sidekick guy is griflet sooo). but what if over time he realized just how badly eric was treating her? what if he kept hanging out with them because he was trying, in a confused and misaligned way, to protect her from eric’s attention. what if it got to the point where he considered killing eric himself. what if when she came to him one night crying and shaking and covered in eric’s blood he held her and told her how brave she was. and he burned the body himself and took her to camelot where he knew she’d get the necessary support as a widow. and he visits her over the years and starts brimming with feelings– romantic, platonic, sexual, he doesn’t even know– for the vibrant, funny, acerbic person she’s become after being freed from eric’s grip. and she starts thinking about him too, that silly, earnest man that she’s known for so many years. her friend! one of the few people who stood for her when it counted. but at the same time, she’s only just started allowing herself to want things again– food and respect and attention that doesn’t end in insults or bruises. the right to give as much of yourself as you want to another person, to not have everything taken from you by force. and that night at the manor, she realizes she’s ready to want him. and. and. and. anyway. I think enide/guinevere is objectively a better ship: griflet/enide is crack and not endgame for a reason. I do think there would be some ‘I didn’t help you then so I can’t possibly take advantage of you now’ versus ‘you see me mostly as a thing to protect yet in the end I had to save myself’ that would uh. yeah I don’t think they’d realistically be able to work through that. but it came to me in a dream and I want to believe it happened, however briefly. also I imagine that enide was finally able to gain a lot of weight after she killed eric, and I’m a big believer in giant woman/man who fits in her lap

[sapphiresandgold]

Thank you for the tag @zenkindoflove this sounds like fun. Let’s see if I have ten fics posted (in English).

Rules are: post the first line(s) from the last 10 fics you've updated or posted (or however many fics you have, if less than 10)

1. It feels strange to walk down the streets of Birmingham once more after all those years. (Tommy Shelby x OC, Peaky Blinders, Used to be Young (Demons))

2. “Eww, not again.” Elain Archeron heaves a sigh and tosses her phone onto the couch she is sitting on. “This is getting ridiculous.” (Elain x Lucien, ACOTAR, Flight Risk)

3. On most days he was happy for Feyre and Tamlin. He was glad that his best friend fell in love despite his heart of stone. He was thankful that they finally had a chance at breaking Amarantha‘s curse—that she actually did break the curse. (Lucien centric, Elain x Lucien, ACOTAR, I Found the Missing Part of Me)

4. The sun is beating down relentlessly and a lot warmer than one would expect when living in the Night Court. (Elain x Lucien, ACOTAR, Love ain’t some magical thing)

5. There were probably worse things than being transferred to Brighton in summer, though it did have a kinda stale taste to it if you weren’t needed at your own police station anymore. (Ben Jones x Jamie Winter, Midsomer Murders, Sixth Tine’s The Charm, coop with truly_madly_deeply)

6. “Don’t you think I should already be in that vip lounge, Lou?” Harry asks, his voice huskier than usual, while his hands stroke Louis’ hair. (Larry Stylinson, One Direction, It’s Times Like These When We’re Backstage)

7. “Who wants to see some dragons?”

The Doctor’s question hangs in the air between the four occupants of the Tardis while they stare at him with wide eyes. (The Doctor x Rose Tyler, Amy Pond x Rory Williams, Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Doctor Who x House of the Dragon crossover, The Reckless and the Brave)

8. He bites his lower lip while the screams in front of the stage are getting louder by the second. (Larry Stylinson, One Direction, We’re So Much Happier Backstage)

9. Happiness. A basic human need everyone of their species wants to achieve. Something everyone longs for. Even an alien like himself. (The Doctor x Rose Tyler, Amy Pond x Rory Williams, Doctor Who, The Angel From My Nightmare)

10. Stay, his eyes were screaming. Let me come with you, his hand was pleading. Don‘t leave me, his lips were begging with a last, desperate kiss. (Brienne of Tarth x Jaime Lannister, Game of Thrones, Memories I Never Can Escape)

I didn’t even make it to my longer, finished fic When The Lights Go On, which actually surprised me just now.

This was lots of fun. No pressure tags: @bonecarversbestie @the-darkestminds @crazy-ache @clarafae

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s6 episode 7 "terms of endearment" thoughts

life can be so beautiful… but will it be today? that is the essential question.

yesterday’s episode was a contender for greatest of all time. and i enjoyed holding space for that. in fact, i could stand to hold even MORE space than i already have. 

but from reading the episode description here, this one sounds… darker! so, we shall see. i will not go into this one expecting to feel holly and jolly. although “terms of endearment” sounds like a sweet title. AGAIN, though. i am not foolish enough to think that it will actually be a sweet episode.

ahh, time to get cozy and see what the evening brings us!

post-episode thoughts: (shrugs) this one didn't do anything for me, really. except get that song stuck in my head. and make me kinda uncomfy. those are pretty much my only thoughts.

wait: mulder befriending those random kids was funny, too. thus concludes my opinion.

the evening brings us a sonogram, it seems. a mystery sonogram? there’s some sort of development on da baby. plates on the skull. 

WHY did this wayne guy get up and leave when the doctor said there may be some strange developments?! go be with the woman who also had to hear this news!!!! and the bony plated thing is growing in HER, so like!! don’t make this about you!!!

wayne is getting a sip of water. the woman says that it might be nothing; they need to wait and see. and wayne says he just “wants it to be normal”. "IT"??? "NORMAL"?? bro. i don’t know anything about these matters, but it doesn’t seem like he is very sympathetic to his wife. "normal" is a CRAZY word choice. may i suggest "healthy"? because "normal" sounds like you'll bully the poor little dude if he gets into stuff you consider too nerdy.

they go home to virginia, where he brings his wife a glass of water. her name is laura. good to know.

“i love you, laura. no matter what” <- why does it sound like he is implying that this is somehow her fault with that statement?? or she is lesser for it?? or that he's brave for sticking by her despite it all? that is your job, you utter beast.

what is going on? this man is pissing me off. and he called her “poopydoo”, which pissed me off even worse. 

i hate wayne. team laura. look at her freckles as she falls asleep.

EGADS!!! THE DEVIL IS AT THE FOOT OF HER BED???? WITH FLAMES AND SCARY EYES!! see, if i had seen this at age 7, i wouldn’t have slept for weeks. in some ways, it’s so great i’m not 7 anymore. 

she’s yelling for wayne,,, and the devil is grabbing her????? THE BABY COMES OUT??? with little horns???

okay, that seemed to have just been a nightmare. WAIT, why is he covered in blood.

OH MY GOD??? OH MY GOD. hold on. hold on. she is very bloody. oh my god.

hey guys. what’s going on?

is wayne the devil?? or a devil??

(pause for momentary cheering as the intro shows us our lead actor’s faces. and the intro is full length… nature is healing)

a cop is presenting the tale of laura’s baby being abducted to… SPENDER?? NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THIS!! literally booing and throwing tomatoes at my screen 🍅🍅🍅

laura is the sister of this cop!! so this is personal.

spender says he will put this in their priority caseload, and i do not believe him. maybe he’ll outsource it. 

NO!!! he shredded it right away!!!! SPENDER!!! you dastardly man!!!

so what is he even DOING down in that office if it isn't solving crimes?!?!

MULDER FOUND THE SHREDDED PIECES AND TAPED THEM TOGETHER!! OHHH!!! he is a hero in this way. and he tells the cop not to tell people his name!! LMAO, he is definitely NOT supposed to be there.

he is going to wayne and laura’s beautiful house to ask some questions. she’s talking about the nightmare. the baby was a monster with horns and a tail. she gets up to go cry. leaving him with wayne. 

oh, mulder def thinks this guy is the devil. 

WHAT IS SCULLY DOING?? interviewing some guy??? asking if he smokes weed? has he consorted with people who have? LMAO, she looks so relieved when the phone rings and she can ask this dude to leave. 

“mulder, where are you? i waited 45 minutes for you this morning” “i, uh… before i tell you, i-i’m going to ask you to keep an open mind” <-LMAOOO, he is self-conscious 

BAHAHA, she looks somehow even more done with his news of a demon baby than she was asking this random guy if he knows people who smoke marijuana

she is doing background checks!!! this is so wrong!!! her talents are being WASTED!!!! she is literally a DOCTOR!!! SHE SAVES LIVES!! AND YOU PUT HER IN AN OFFICE?!?!

she calls him out for rooting through spender’s trash but, like. well! i can’t say i blame him. not saying i would do it, of course. but! you know how he is!

“oh, like that’s any different from the assignment we’re stuck with” “‘we’, mulder? i’m stuck with. you’re not here” <- GET HIM!!

his constant conflation of the words "i" and "we" continues to piss me off. he is NOT beating the selfish allegations.

“scully, this is a classic case of demon fetal harvest-“ ohhhhh right. right. that clears it up. (heavy on the /s)

oh shoot, while she rolls her eyes, it seems something or someone is recording his phone call!!

it’s being picked up over the baby monitor!! wayne hears him saying all of this!! he looks distressed. but: is he guilty of the crime???

laura comes back in the room and wayne is nowhere to be seen. something is on fire….. what is he doing?? laura just wants her nightgown!!

he’s holding something bloody in the leaves. and there’s a flame altar sort of thing??? 

he’s covered in sweat and claims to be burning leaves in the middle of the night. he claims he wanted everything to look perfect for when she woke up. 

see, he seems so obviously evil that maybe i’m supposed to guess that he really is innocent. 

it seems like he’s crying as some bones burn in there or something. which is not reassuring.

mulder!! sleeping in his car!!! waking with a pain in his neck from such an awful position!!! what a silly guy!

scully she found something on the charts he sent her… he doodles horns onto wayne as she describes the conditions

but she says the father is not some sort of evil force… and he has to put laura under arrest?? labor was induced? with mandrakes. which can also be a hallucinogen. she says the doctor told her that wayne was very upset, and she seemed not to be. 

hmm… she suggests that he proceed very carefully, as it is incredibly emotional territory. he proceeds to very carefully doodle more horns on wayne’s head. while wayne pulls out in his car, watching him.

i feel like any plot point i jump to guess here will be subverted. so perhaps i should just stay silent and sit back and watch. 

why does he have to get involved? is it actually his case now? can’t he just be like “damn, maybe this one doesn't look so spooky; i actually have something else to do, bye!” 

now where is he going…. and why did he leave his car window open… i am scared it will rain and land in his car...

wayne goes to the house of ANOTHER WOMAN??? who asks where he has been??? he says he has been “on the road” and calls her “poopydoo”! 

yeah, this man HAS to be the devil.

this woman has the bluest eyes i have ever seen. and she’s pregnant, too!!!! 

A DEVIL AND A TWO-TIMER!!! free my girl laura!!

the cop from before is here with mulder and laura, and he is defending his sister against mandrake accusations. but she does say she took an herbal sleep aid. and wayne was seen bringing her a pill, so i don’t think this is her fault.

oh no… wayne is here now. mulder says he doesn’t want to arrest laura and throws a devil reference in there. HE IS ON TO YOU, WAYNE!! COUNT YOUR DAYS!!

wait, if mulder doesn’t believe in god, how does he think you get rid of devils?? does he keep some emergency holy water in his suit jacket?? just in case??

i need to ponder this.

the cops are searching the premises. they find a lot of jars labeled “fiber”. unless it isn’t fiber. and is instead mandrake. hmm...

oh no, wayne is confessing a secret to laura…. he wasn’t in bed that night… and he says she had the baby in her hands??? she was in some sort of trance?? mumbling stuff?? so he took the baby and wrapped it up and burned the body??

he says he was doing it to protect her. sure enough, they find some bones out there. 

oh wayne, this is evil. laura is crying. mulder is watching. and he does look terribly handsome which is interrupting the vibe, as laura tells her cop brother that she thinks she did something wrong, and perhaps this was her punishment. and btw, cop brother is named arky. which is not a name i have heard before. 

arky tells her not to say anything more and reads her her rights. wayne says she’ll be okay as she walks out. he's still pissing me off.

mulder declares he knows what wayne is as he walks out. bro, be careful getting in a tussle with the devil. or a devil. still not clear on the hierarchy of devils in this show.

wayne is speeding off, blasting his tunes and calling the other woman- betsy! GAG!!!!

he wants to be there for the sonogram, AND they’re married????? “it’s a picture of the expression of our beautiful love” <- oh, i would need holy water for that statement even if the guy wasn’t a demon 

MULDER PULLS UP NEXT TO HIM LMAOOOOO AND NOW THEY’RE RACING!!!!! 

so wayne goes to a client’s house and takes a woman’s blood instead of going to the sonogram appointment. which is not what i wanted to see. this lady has like 4 kids running out the door.

buhhhhhh, i don’t want to see the blooooooood, not looking at the screen, lalalalalala. wayne says she has fine looking boys and she doesn’t know how lucky she is. but when he bends down he has these weird bumps on his spine. OHHHH LORD!! deliver me!!

and mulder is outside honking and waving LMAOOOOOO

THE KIDS CRAWLED IN WAYNE’S CAR, BAHAHA. but why is mulder’s tactic here to simply annoy a devil until he stops what he’s doing? and the bigger question: will it work??

and he is befriending random children. typical mulder activities.

but scully calls!!! and mulder is busted!!! wayne called kersh and reported mulder for harassment. she warns him to leave him alone.

he says to tell kersh he’s doing a background check on somebody and hangs up. 

poor laura is in the jail cell. and wayne comes to see her. she’s afraid!

she’s been thinking about his story, and it doesn’t make any sense.

AUGH, she finds a gash mark on his neck where she scratched the devil… so must be him….

HE BREATHES IN HER SOUL?????? 

man. what?

they’re trying to do CPR, while wayne is literally RIGHT there, claiming she collapsed. 

he’s shocked when there’s a heartbeat on her. and mulder sees this.

wayne races back to betsy. she has had enough of his excuses!!!

and this baby too has bony growths!!! and again he claims to love her no matter what. 

NO, DON’T GET HER A GLASS OF ANYTHING!

betsy, you need to kill this guy. 

scully is here to take a look at laura!!! she says there is no evidence of the husband being why she is in a coma.

mulder presents her with some new facts. and yes, i did hit rewind to hear scully say “czechoslovakia” once again. what about it?

ohhhh, he tracked down wayne’s aliases!!! he's been a bunch of different people over the years

“mulder, i will accept that a man can be demonic, that he may have demon-like attributes, but why would a demon- if there were such a thing- bother with a 9-5 make room for daddy routine just so he can off his wife and unborn child?” <- AHA! she believes man can be demonic! this isn’t entirely surprising given the catholicism, but still interesting and worth noting.

he says he’s not a psychologist and I THOUGHT HE WAS, THOUGH?? wait. maybe he doesn’t have like a license to practice. maybe he just has that sweet, sweet oxford BA.

let me google some things. 

well. i’m actually gonna throw the flag in here and admit defeat. because i feel like i’ve read about this line before back when i was first googling this show to see if i wanted to watch it, and how he says this- or something like it, possibly about not being able to prescribe meds- and it blatantly ignores canon. which probably should have been a warning for what i was getting into and the struggles i would face as someone who NEEDS continuity to stay sane. but here we are. 

maybe i can choose to interpret that he’s being a sarcastic little man. or, he just isn’t considered a professional psychologist without the masters or license to practice. 

and i will certainly do my best to not lose sleep over such a line. 

like i still do over the colorblind thing...

wayne is warming up milk and probably adding some sort of herb. why is the milk glowing? yeah sure, whatever. it glows.

betsy, don’t drink it, NOOO!!! she gulps it all. i was hoping she’d claim to be lactose intolerant and tell him that he needs to go get soy milk now, but no. 

scully and mulder arrive to where the cops are searching for the body. and sure enough. baby. in the yard.

mulder demands that the cops put out an APB, saying wayne’s done it to other women. 

mulder theory time: OHHHH, wayne actually DOES want a normal child… but he has only made demons so far. well. i think that is how genetics work???

betsy is sleeping. and she also has a demon arrive at the bottom of her bed and spread her legs open. 

OH!!! SHE GRABS HIM AND ASKS WHAT THE HELL HE’S DOING!! BAHAHA!!! GET HIS ASS!!!

mulder and scully are off on a mission. and he pulls over and drives somewhere else to find wayne's second wife at his second residence.

betsy stops the agents!!! she’s covered in blood!!! and says he took her baby!!!

scully is trying to comfort her and say it’s okay, but it’s very much not. i still appreciate that she tried. 

they’re trying to find wayne with their dramatic guns and flashlights. a creepy film is playing in the living room as wayne digs a hole. 

wayne says that all he’s wanted is a wife and a normal family. he’s claiming she took the baby. betsy is…. (gunshots cut him off as arky shoots him)

wayne says “i just wanted what everyone wants”, and when he does this, mulder looks to scully. which surely has no implications!!! /s

arky is freaking out because they’re placing wayne next to laura in the hospital. i respect that. even if you shouldn’t shoot people.

somehow, wayne is recovering. probably from his demon blood. and then HE gets his soul sucked out???? by laura????

did he give himself up to her? or was she actually a demon, too??

shrugs. i truly can't be bothered to work it out.

scully is digging up baby skeletons, seeming pained at this fact. i cannot blame her. there are 4 so far. and all the ones they’ve found are normal. 

so betsy was an eviler demon? and she is driving away to the same song he was speeding to with her little demon baby in tow!!!

okay, she has creepy red eyes now. 

well!

allow me to file this one under the category “episodes that make you close your laptop and stare at the wall for a bit”

um. diversity win?? this baby killing demon is a woman??

well, from an incredibly practical standpoint, this episode didn’t have enough scully. which is a valid enough reason for me to not like it. 

but other than THAT, i was actually pretty interested at first. idk, it kinda lost me though. this show uses women so weirdly. there’s this obsession with breeding. in a decidedly unappealing way.  

once again, mulder was the guy who could put together the dastardly plot when no one else could. which is annoying. 

man, idk, i don’t consider myself like, sensitive to the topic really, but i find babies being murdered unenjoyable as a plot point. maybe it’s overdone. maybe there’s just no room for humor in it. maybe it’s the theme of reproductive coercion again pissing me off, because how many times are we going to have this beast rear it’s ugly head? even if it’s is now in the opposite direction, when everything in the past on this show has been about women being assaulted into pregnancy, the removal of consent- wayne tricking laura into inducing labor and losing her baby- is STILL reproductive coercion.

tbh, i don’t really have more thoughts on the subject. like, i’m not even going to write a think piece on how i didn’t like it, because it was just eh. which happens. some of the episodes are unremarkable. if there is something to be noted, it’s this weird handling of women characters as a recurring theme. but i’m not fired up enough to write a dissertation because... at this point, i guess i’m kind of used to it in this show??

damn! that wasn’t a raving review. well, i hope you’ll forgive my lack of enthusiasm. maybe you’ll tell me that everyone else hates this episode too, and i’ll be like, okay, cool. but maybe you’ll tell me everyone actually loved it, and then i’ll feel cool and edgy. but i

[booglyoogly13]

Don’t Blame Me ~ Rafe Cameron x Reader (Mafia/Mob and arranged marriage AU)

PART 2

Hi! This is my first ever fanfic, I hope whoever reads it likes it. 🫶🫶

Warnings: Even more toxic rafe, swearing, smoking, and lots of crying from reader’s end because I really channeled how much I cry in this chapter 

Word count: 1717

PART 1

not my gif, credits to the owner!!

The car’s engine starts and soon it’s pulling away from the one familiar thing I have. I look at the driver in the rear view mirror, then out the window when I see how I look, devastated and betrayed. We drive for what feels like hours when finally the car comes to a stop in front of a huge house, I wipe my tears away trying to pull myself together before I go into the house. The car engine shuts off and the driver opens the door for me, I thank him and walk to the front door and see Rafe standing there smoking another cigarette, he looks at me with disgust and that’s when I know he didn’t want this anymore than me. I put on a brave face and smile at him, holding the ring my dad gave me right in my hand.

“Hi,” I feel so nervous I might vomit but I keep it together and walk by him and into the house when he doesn’t answer. I feel Rafe looking at me and then I stop realizing I know nothing about this house or where to go. I turn and look at him and he smirks and walks towards me, “Why are you crying?” I scoff but say nothing, not trusting myself to speak in that. I take a deep breath and compose myself, “Where am I supposed to go, Rafe?”, he looks at me in mock questioning, “To sleep. Where am I supposed to sleep?” He rolls his eyes at me and walks ahead of me. He looks back to make sure I’m following him, he heads to the staircase in the middle of the foyer and points up the stairs, “First door on your left, do I need to show you left and right or can you do that on your own Princess?” I give him an angry look and walk up the stairs and to the left, my jaw dropping when I see the view from the room. “Wow.”

The window is huge and overlooks the gardens, which are perfect, i take a mental note to explore tomorrow. I walk into the bathroom and sit on the tile, that being my favorite way to calm down. This is the first minute I could take a breather and it feels good, I look at the ring my dad gave me, anger flowing through me again. How could he do this to me? Anger surges through me and I throw the ring across the room, “Fuck you!” I yell to no one in particular, my heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest and loud sobs rack my body. I hear someone walk into the bathroom but say nothing expecting it to be Rafe, “What’s all this fucking shouting for?” I turn at the new and unexpected voice and see a very big man looking down at me angrily. I turn back around to hide my tears and because he looks terrifying. He walks closer to me, his shadow looming over my sitting body, “I said, what’s all this shouting for?” His voice sends a shiver down my spine, the angry tone making me more angry.

He has no right to be angry at me, he’d be yelling if he was me too. I turn to him again, “Leave me alone.” I say as assertive as possible, but it must not do the trick because he smiles an awful smiles and laughs at me, “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, want to know why?,” he doesn’t wait for an answer, “Because I’m Rafe’s right hand, and if you don’t start treating me with respect your first day here will be your last.” I shudder at the threat but don’t give up because I deserve it respect if he deserves it, “Fuck you, you might be his right hand but I’m like his wife or whatever the fuck.” He laughs again and I know that he doesn’t give a shit, out of the corner of my eye I see someone else walk into the bathroom and know it’s Rafe because I can smell the stench of cigarette smoke. I look at him and am met with his cold, blue eyes, if I didn’t know better I’d think he was a statue, “I didn’t know I married both of you,” I say to Rafe angrily, he stands taller and walks towards me and laugh, a dark, menacing laugh, “You just don’t get it yet, do you Y/n? You’re mine now,” he smirks at the fear in my eyes. He grabs my hand and looks at me as if asking, "Do you understand?" I scoff, “If I’m yours then why is he threatening me?” Rafe laughs but says nothing instead stepping back from me and lighting a cigarette and puffing the air towards me.

Suddenly, something in me snaps and I push at his chest, “Fuck you,” I say pushing on his chest angrily, “I hate you you piece of shit!” He looks at me for a second, shocked and then his jaw ticks and his eyes go back to their cold stare and when he speaks it comes out quiet, “You listen to me right now, if you ever do that again, I will kill you. I don’t give a shit who you are. Got it Princess?” I nod and he turns around, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. I walk into the bedroom and fall into the bed not interested in being awake any longer, I crawl under the covers and fall into a restless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up the next morning to the rising sun shining through my window and I yawn. I remember that I wanted to explore the house last night so i get up and walk out my door going down the stairs and walking down a hallway. I pass a large set of doors and open them and am met with the smell of books, I smile realizing it’s a library. I walk next to a large shelf of books, running my fingertips on the spines of each one. I stop when the shelf ends and there’s a door, I grab the handle and twist and walk inside, I stop once I enter when I see that Rafe and a few other men are in there, and having what looks to be a meeting.

My face flushes when I’m met with their stares, “I’m sorry,” I say quietly and turn to leave, Rafe’s eyes scan my body and he walks towards me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his chest. He puts his lips next to my ear and says, “Where do you think you’re going Princess?” I look at floor, scared to see his cold gaze looking at me. He puts his hand under my jaw and forces me to look up at him, “Don’t you want to discuss what happened last night?” He smirks when I look at him with fear in my eyes and I look behind him at the men waiting to continue the meeting, “You’re in a meeting though.” He shakes his head and looks at me like I’m stupid, “These men mean nothing to me,” he smirks, and walks toward the exit of the library, “Come here.” He beckons me with the flick of his chin and I nod, walking over to him, “That’s a good girl,” he says mockingly and my face feels like it’s on fire.

He walks up the stairs and into a bedroom that’s twice the size of mine and goes over to a bar, pouring himself a drink, “What do you think?” He asks looking around the room, I look at him confused, “Of what?” He laughs under his breath and walks closer to me, “Of our room, Princess.” I look at him shocked, our room? I just got a room last night. He laughs at my expression but says nothing so I speak up first, “I’m sorry for walking into your meeting earlier.” He shakes his head no and sets his drink down, “You’re sorry? No no no…” He flares at me like I’m stupid, “You don’t get to be sorry in my house.” I look at the ground, embarrassed again, “I’m sor-“ I cut myself off when I realise I was going to apologize again, Rafe looks at me mockingly confused, “Finish your sentence Princess.” I shake my head, scared that’s he’ll yell at me, “I didn’t mean to.” He looks at me like I’m a child who needs to be scolded, “You didn’t mean to?”, he laughs cruelly, “Then what the fuck did you mean to do hm?” He steps closer to me, forcing me to look up at him. He raises an eyebrow waiting for a response, “I,” I sigh, “I meant to say sorry but I always say sorry so I wasn’t thinking when I almost said it.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, walking back over to his drink, “That’s pathetic. You always say sorry Princess? What a fucking joke.” My eyes fill with tears at his abuse but I refuse to let them fall, I turn towards the door, not wanting to entertain him anymore I mumble a fuck you as I grab the door knob and open the door but jump when it slams closed.

Rafe’s hand above my head, keeping the door closed, “What did you just say?” His eyes are filled with anger as he looks down at me and grabs my forearm, dragging me away from the door. I wince at the right grip he has, knowing it will turn into a bruise, “I said fuck you.” He jaw clenches when he hears me say it but he says nothing, instead pushing me away from him. I stumble backwards but catch myself before I fall. He takes a sip of his drink and talks into the cup, “Just remember that I own you,” I nod, tears flowing down my face, “Get the fuck out of my sight.” I open the door and close behind me, my hands shaking from what happened. I walk back towards the stairs and into my room, shutting the door and sliding down it, my trembling knees not able to hold me up any longer.

smut in next chapter!

[jaim-inhothekid]

 ⎈ 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

[ W.C ! ] : 1.5k

[ Summary ! ] : Usopp has been having those vivid dreams about being part of a pirate crew. A certain person starts to appear in his dreams and can't seem to leave his thoughts. He never expected to find them during class a random day. | GN!Reader ; Modern AU

⌗ ✎ Author's Note : This was originally a trade fic for one of the members of my one piece discord server!

Usopp always had his head up in the clouds, a fertile imagination, as his mother would call it. Smiling fondly and nodding along to the crazy stories he would make up on the spot, she would gasp and cover her mouth in disbelief when his tales took an unexpected turn, laugh at the funny parts, wipe her eyes and pout solemnly when a tragedy was told. Always so expressive and genuine, Usopp inherited her best traits. Spontaneity is one, if not the most important, attribute of a storyteller.

Usopp always had a particular fascination with pirates during his childhood. He bragged and boasted about being a brave warrior of the sea, with a fleet of over eighty-thousand men, captain of the most notorious crew to ever grace the seven seas – the usopp pirates, they were called. A plain black shirt that didn't fit him anymore turned into a flag, the jolly roger sloppily painted in gouache, sheets turned into sails held by the cable of a broom he took from his mother to use as a mast – and would deny vehemently to know where it could've possibly gotten. Sat on the deck, the headboard, Usopp would reunite all of his crew mates, his plushies, and set sail for the most wild of adventures all day long, until 10pm because he couldn't go past his bedtime.

He grew out of it with time, as it was never more than a childhood phase of playing pretend. Though the childish wonder about pirates was something that was never quite forgotten, Usopp would catch himself daydreaming about certain scenarios – about a life of utmost freedom and adventure. Maybe his infatuation came with the desire of putting himself in the world, leaving a mark, feeling like he mattered. Usopp wanted to be brave and adventurous and so so much more, acclaimed like king or praised like a God – or just knowing that he was an important part of something that wouldn't be quite the same without him, in that case, a crew.

He thought of the sea, which could be equally terrifying as it was beautiful. The tangy smell of salt in the air, the crash of the waves against the hull of the ship, the steady swaying of it as it navigated through the waters. He thought of all the possibilities that the waters had in store for him – the ocean only had roughly 5% of it discovered by humanity, did it not? What exactly disproves the existence of creatures lurking in its depths? Monsters bigger than he could imagine, with nothing to compare their size to, areas that have never been navigated through, places that have never even been drawn into maps– okay, pause on that thought, it's starting to get disturbing. The pirate fantasy would really lose its spark if Usopp managed to give himself thalassophobia by overthinking the dangers of the sea.

It's been a while, about a month or two, that his imaginations seemed to reach their peak. He even started to dream about them, vividly so, and things like that didn't happen since he was a little kid. He thought about college and that it was probably the culprit of his head being even further into the clouds than it already was on a regular basis. He was getting closer to the week of finals, after all.

However, his dreams started to feature a new element ever since, and for that, he had no explanation. Said element was a new person, with eyes like shining rhinestones – that reminded him of the brightest starry sky he could think of, beautiful like diamonds, and just as unforgettable To his frustration, Usopp would always wake up before he had the chance of asking for their name, and to his anticipation, he knew that he would see them again once his drowsy eyes fell closed when his head hit the pillow.

Mx. Mystery, as he decided to refer to them, became the main character of his mind. With their beautiful smile and contagious laughter and tooth rotting sweet disposition that left him feeling all tingly as a dumb smile tugged on his lips. Staring off the windows of his classroom with them on his mind, replaying the dream he had the previous night, feeling giddy about what scenario would he dream about with them tonight when he got home–

“Excuse me,” came a voice next to him, “Is this seat taken?”

Usopp immediately turned his head to the source of the voice, ready to reply… but no words came out. Everything he could've possibly have said died in his throat when he saw an unmistakable face with a familiar pair of gentle eyes.

Eyes…

Huh?!

That's them! 

But… wait, what?

The person of his dreams…!

He blinked up at them, and then at the seat… oh, right, he put his bag there. “Uh, n– no! Um, sorry, let me just–,” Usopp stuttered, laughing awkwardly as he took the bag into his lap and wiped the seat clean. Why did he even do that? He was so weird when he got nervous “There! There, uh, it's free”

Mx. Mystery didn't seem to mind him stumbling over himself, as they wordlessly flashed him a sweet smile and sat themselves in the seat next to him, offering him their hand for a handshake “I'm Y/N” they said, and it was like Usopp finally got the final clue for a mystery he spent his whole life trying to discover.

“The name's Usopp,” he said, a smile of his own stretching over his lips, more confident this time “It's nice to meet you”

Conversation flowed easily with Y/N, and he honestly barely paid attention to the lesson at all while they were by his side, they talked about anything and everything – each word that left their lips got him over the moon, he never met someone who had so much in common with him! He wished for this specific day to last 72 hours minimum because he didn't want to phantom the idea of having to bid them goodbye.

As they talked, Y/N told him all sorts of things about themselves  to which he reciprocated by telling them more about himself as well. Y/N was in their first period of college and recently moved cities because of their scholarship, Usopp clung onto every word they told him about their major and why they chose it. Usopp told them about how he was born and raised on a small island near the beach and was a graphic design major. He was currently working on a personal project for a comic book – about a pirate kid who ate a magical fruit that gave him powers, but in turn, took his ability to swim.

“Imagine living in the sea and not knowing how to swim!” Y/N laughed, their cheek resting on their fist as they propped up their elbow on the desk “That's really ironic"

“I know!” Usopp nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, grinning proudly as he could get the whole point of it across “That's why I wrote it”

“Y'know, sometimes I have these dreams about being in a pirate crew. It's kinda weird”

Usopp paused, and in that moment, it was like the whole world paused along with him.

“... I don't think it's weird”

Their conversation didn't stop there. In fact, they seemed to have even more to talk about after that point. They had so much in common that Usopp couldn't help but wonder where have they been all his life, that it felt too good to be true, that it looked like he was still imagining things– until Y/N tugged on his sleeve, nodding their chin towards the door, the class ended 10 minutes ago.

“Hey, do you know the little coffee shop down the street? The one next to the Skypiea building?” They asked, already jumping out of their seat as they urged Usopp to do the same.

“Are you kidding?! I love that shop!”

“Really!? Oh my god, me too!”

And so they went, walking side by side, fingers shyly brushing against each other with every step, growing closer just to steadily grow apart again. For some reason, they grew quieter as they walked off the campus – eyes meeting, a mutual searching for something, and then looking away. The silence stretched uncomfortably as they exchanged those glances, searching for familiar traits in one another.

Usopp had the sudden urge to ask about the dreams. He cleared his throat, puffed out his chest – and then thought it over, and a third time. Would they think he's a weirdo for it? It's a possibility because dreaming about the same scenario is one thing, but asking a person you just met if they also dreamed of you was bordering on crazy. But also, he felt like he needed to say something about it, anything. He glanced at Y/N from the corner of his eyes, immediately looking away when he realized they were looking first, his cheeks felt hot. Get your act together!

Deep breath, don't think about it, he turned to them to speak his thoughts. Y/N seemed to have the exact same thing on their mind when he turned to them, because their mouth was already open and words were spilling out of it, coming in unison with his own.

“I think i saw you in my dreams”

[thegreenhordes]

Twilight's Notes. Case File: Nurse Redheart

Incident Report: Unfortunately, it seems Cheerilee progressed to a stage 2 Growler last night during Nurse Redheart's rounds. She has been helping a lot with research and keeping both the later and early stage infected as healthy as possible. However, during a routine checkup with Cheerilee, she surpassed the previous expected progression rate by almost a week and attacked Nurse Redheart as she was preparing to leave. Her teeth tore right through the protective gear and into her side. Luckily stage 2 Growlers don't often perform persistent attacks and once Redheart was bitten Cheerilee backed off. Redheart was able to leave the room without further incident and immediately locked herself in another observation room. Only time will tell if she'll recover, she already has a fever.

Day Three: Early infection has taken full hold and prognosis isn't good. We've administered every medication at the highest safe dosages and kept Nurse Redheart on bed rest but treatment hasn't done much good. Her sweating and lethargy is getting worse, and the bite wound has started to fester and ooze despite being kept clean and bandaged. I'm starting to worry that we might lose one of our best members of the medical staff. She tries to keep a brave face, but I can see the fear in her eyes. Medical supplies are running low- Some of the Pegasi have offered to go on a supply run for more, they'll be leaving later today.

Day Seven: It's almost midnight and Redheart has officially been declared unsaveable. I'm heartbroken, she and I had really started to bond. Knowing that her fate is sealed has me feeling horrible. Protective gear has been under review and stronger armored pieces are being considered. I can't let any more medical personnel get bit. I'm going to bed now, Redheart's sudden proclivity to staring is unnerving.

Day Eleven: We've had to keep all the lights off in the area around her room, she says the light feels like it's burning. The last thing I want is to hurt her. She may be infected, but so long as her mind remains intact I want to keep her comfortable. Aside from an abnormal degree of light sensitivity compared to other infected, Redheart seems to be progressing towards Type 1. No facial pustules yet, but she has the drool, persistent itching eyes and oozing bite. Irritability and Insomnia are also present. Her staring is indicative of a Type 2 however, so we're keeping observation to a minimum to avoid aggression. She keeps asking about 'the shadow ponies' she keeps seeing in her periphery. Hallucinations have been noted in her symptom file.

Day Nineteen: Something is wrong, Nurse Redheart has reached the point where she should be showing clear outward pustule growth and more aggressive tendencies- but she is currently the most docile of all the subjects. It's odd, I don't know what to make of it. Whenever somepony enters the hall of the observation lab she seems to be able to tell almost immediately and starts calling out to the visitor. But, when the visitor reaches her room she goes suddenly quiet and just stares at them from the far corner of the room. If they leave her sight she starts talking again, mostly greetings and simple requests. I visited her early this morning, and she called out to me "Oh hello, so nice to see you." Five. Times. Before I reached the observation window. Her voice was so... monotone. This doesn't feel like the normal progression paths that have been documented so far. She has pustules growing Inside Her.

Day Twenty-Three: New Data, Nurse Redheart was successfully sedated after multiple failed attempts over the last three days. Samples were taken from the pustules in her mouth and blood was drawn. I was also able to finally get a good look at her body. This isn't Nurse Redheart anymore. I don't think it has been for a while. She's still alive, there's breathing and a heartbeat, but her skin sags like there's something else wearing her hide. Examination of her extremities during sedation showed that her legs were malformed, like they'd broken in multiple places and healed over wrong. her teeth were normal, except for the four pointed fangs at the back of her mouth. I also looked at her eyes, and she- She Looked at me. Like the sedatives only immobilized her, but she was still awake. The samples taken from the infected revealed that it had indeed mutated. Nurse Redheart, or what is left of her, is now known in the infection logs as a "Type 3". Right now she is the only known Type 3. If she stays isolated then spreading this mutation can hopefully be halted- though recurrence in the wild isn't out of the realm of possibility. The others say I should nip this in the bud and put her down, we don't know what she's capable of. If she's still in an early stage of progression or if progression has stopped. She was still docile when she woke, but she doesn't speak to me anymore when I enter the lab. It knows that I know what it is, and what it isn't anymore, so the infected has ceased its communicative behavior.

Day Thirty: It screamed bloody murder when I entered the lab and wouldn't stop until I left. I've cast a spell to dampen the sound enough to do my work... I'll be suspending this study for the time being. Further Updates Pending.

[oscurascout]

Bad Sanses Adventures

You Know What They Say, Don't Bring Skeletons To The Spa Part 1 (Part 2)

Masterlist

Cross didn't know how to feel or what to think. It had already been a few weeks since he joined the gang, and to be honest, he was starting to regret it.

Not because he was overworked or being bullied by the other members, but because they were so chaotic, to the point of being unpredictable. One day, they could be planning to watch Pokemon, while the next hour they might be throwing themselves off the castle's roof. The worst of the bunch was Killer; he was the “brains” behind their chaos. Dust often went along with it, and at times made it even more chaotic, while Horror was the more laid-back one. Nightmare was the mom friend, making sure they didn’t die.

Chara - “When we joined, I expected a lot of things, but not this!”

Cross - “Finally, something we can agree on.”

Cross had decided to keep his distance from the group, not wanting to get too friendly. He didn't want to get used to this beautiful dream. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have much time to wallow in his thoughts before Killer burst in.

Killer - *barging in* “Hey, Crossy Cross!”

Cross - *sighs* “What is it?”

Killer - “Nightmare let us go to the spa before we head on our mission! Though I would prefer to go afterward, but it doesn't matter.”

Cross - *Confused* “Why the spa?”

Killer - *excited* “Because we’ve never been to one before. This could be a new experience!”

Cross - “Why do you always choose the weirdest places?”

Killer - “The spa is not a weird place!”

Cross sighed, he didn't want to argue anymore meanwhile Chara tried to imagine all the chaos they would cause.

Killer - “Well, anyway, get ready. I'll go tell the others,”

Killer left Cross's room and heading straight to Horror's.

Chara - “I wonder what kind of mess they will make this time,”

Cross - “Hopefully nothing too bad,”

They all met in the living room, ready to leave, Cross noticed that Nightmare was missing.

Cross - “Where's Boss?”

Killer - “He's not going, he said he had something to do.”

Papyrus - “Last time he said that, Cross appeared”

Dust - *chuckles* “Yeah, that's true, brother,”

They passed through the portal and arrived at the spa, causing quite a scene; after all, it wasn't every day that you saw scary-looking skeletons. Killer quickly approached the receptionist, and before long, they were all taken to a treatment room.

Chara - “I guess those are the perks of being scary. You might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Chara floated around while Cross lay down on one of the beds, trying to relax. Soon, a few “brave” employees entered the room to begin the treatments, but things started to go downhill very quickly.

Killer had opted for a manicure and pedicure. To say he was excited would be an understatement; he had watched many anime and numerous videos showcasing the process and the results, and he couldn’t wait to experience it himself.

The employee began massaging his bones. It was a bit tough, like molding very hard clay, but they made it work. Killer was having the time of his life, but there was one problem: he couldn’t think of a design for his “nails,” which made things increasingly difficult for the employee.

After 20 minutes of indecision, he finally chose a design. The employee, with shaky hands, began working on it, making a few mistakes along the way. Killer didn’t mind and instead smiled, but unfortunately, this had the opposite effect of calming the employee down.

Meanwhile, Cross was receiving a massage. As he lay on his “stomach”, he felt the employee's hands approach his back, causing him to quickly turn around and grab their wrist, glaring at them.

Employee - *scare* “S-sorry, sir, b-but I need to start.”

Chara - *a little annoyed* “Cross, chill out. It's a massage, not an assassination attempt!”

Cross released the employee's wrist and lay back down.

Employee - *nervous* “A-alright, I’ll start n-now”

Cross merely nodded. He felt the employee's hands touch his back, but he remained tense and on guard. Suddenly, the hands moved away, and he almost stood up, thinking the treatment was over. Just then, he felt a sharp pain in his back, causing him to let out a startled scream, but almost immediately after, he experienced a wave of relaxation. His back no longer hurt, nor did he feel any tension. He let out a peaceful sigh and completely relaxed. However, the moment he heard a crack, he tensed up again and shot up, startling the employee.

[fanficapologist]

I’m certain Maera is feeling a multitude of emotions right now - joy from knowing Vaegon is still alive to disbelief, anger, and resentment because how could he just up and leave to pursue his desires? But at the same time, reading about her thought process makes me think whether it might have come across her mind how freeing it must have been to get away from it all, from the shallowness and toxicity of the court and politics. And I have a feeling that even she isn’t so sure about a lot of things anymore because of the war. I mean, sure in a sense, Vaegon did shirk his royal duties, but when you think about it he was also brave enough to pursue what HE wanted. I think, during that time, nobody really thought of pursuing what they wanted aside from what was expected of them because duty is touted as a calling, something sacred almost. So for someone like Vaegon, who had everything, it’s ludicrous. I think it’s also quite funny because people did not think that they also COULD. As in, technically, it wasn’t illegal but it was a dick move, which is why some people resent him for it.

And I want to compare this to the episode finale of season 2. Rhaenyra and Alicent’s scene. I interpreted it as Alicent resented Rhaenyra because she did not take her duty seriously and could go as she pleased while Alicent was basically chained to hers. But secretly, she too longed for that freedom.

Going back to the fic, upon seeing that Ebrion flies with Vhagar, I like to think that the dragons mirror their rider’s emotions BUT they are also manifestations of their subconscious feelings and thoughts. Maera might be mad at Aemond but her love is still there, and this is evident in Vhagar and Ebrion’s interactions. Also, I feel like despite Ebrion’s ferocity, I can’t help but think of how adorable he must have looked when he saw baby Amerara for the first time.

And during Maera’s flight, I think she may have also had inklings of a possible future epiphany. How blood and gender complicates things like how Aemond despite being further down the line, went ahead of Jaehaera because they followed the custom of male rulers. But I think Maera is also starting to see it as pointless because blood gives you a sort of imaginary pedestal when she, despite having “diluted blood” could accomplish great things and more not because of her lineage but because of her own ability and perseverance. And she’s sort of realized that futility or at least is starting to wonder what really matters during this war. And I think it’s interesting to see whether she’ll pursue this line of thought. I feel like Maera may yet play a bigger part in uniting the warring Targaryens, much bigger than all of them 👀

I think the fact there’s a war going on and that she has PTSD but that time that witch TRIED TO FUCKING KILL HER probably has her mind frazzled 😅 I got quite a long comment on AO3 the other day about how Maera ‘should just forgive himself already’ and I was like ??? After all he’s done, really boo?

Definitely the dragons are a reflection of their riders I fully believe that

Spoiler; we WILL see some interaction with Maera and Team Black further on in the fic 🖤