#i'll post it on ao3

[money-and-dandellions]

Of tears and nights.

TW: Self-harm, description of dead bodies but not a lot, angst, implied eating disorder.

"...Don't deserve their kindness, you know that?"

He couldn't breathe.

Everything seemed much colder than he managed to remember, the voices hitting the walls of his skull with tedious temp, drawing undeniably clear sketches with something.

Was it blood? Was it his? 

He felt how a drop fell on his gray forehead, freezing with the touch. It sticked to the skin, not wanting to fall. It repeated a few times, burning stronger with each, marking his body.

———— ———— ———— ———— 

Blue eyes were staring at him from the ceiling, not blinking, making him want to shrink. Blond hair were dusty, red, so familiar, glasses - crooked.

What... But he can't be here, he's dead, he saw him die—

The room shook, he stumbled, almost falling, stopping millimeters away from a sharp edge of a dagger.

A small exhale was heard when pain hugged him, choking with it's warm hands.

Everything went disgustingly pink.

———— ———— ———— ———— 

"Oh, right, you're weak, you can't."

He wanted to rip off the voice's arteries, so it would finally shut up and stay silent afterwards; also, he wanted to curl into a ball, letting himself shake and go numb, letting the hot tears stream down.

The vision was covered with a thin layer of pinkish blurr, every part of his body hurt, as if he was pulled in different directions with thick ropes that were cutting in his skin. For some reason, he could feel the blood in the veins boil, turning dark-purple.

Everything was burning, his body was filled with liquid fire, eating it out. His eyes were stuffed with smoke, so we're his lungs. He felt how his ribs got crushed under the pressure, pieces of bones stabbing his lungs. For a second, he saw a glimpse of yellow, glowing eyes and a sleek long body that was wrapping around his skinny, small, one. Hissing made his ears blow up.

Bodies of Jason Grace and Meg, oh gods he is destroying everyone's life, layed on the stone floor, their spines bended around 90 degrees incorrectly. 

His own spine crushed with a wet sound. A sob escaped his throat, leaving it choked with blood.

———— ———— ———— ————

The thin mattress creaked miserably as Lester woke up, gasping for breath, his eyes wide open, unstable;  hot tears were running down his cheeks abd on his neck, wetting the a little worn-out t-shirt he was in; his curls were all around the neck and shoulders, a little damp with sweat, his heart beating, making it hard to breathe. He let out a few small shaky breaths, before wiping his face with the back of his hand. It was trembling a little.

The motel room was dirty, barely lit, the sounds of highway echoing through paper-like walls of the building. The bed sheets were dusty, clearing a cloud of dirt every time a weight was put on them. There were some coffee (at least, it was better be coffee) spots on the pillow and duvet covers; the windows were muggy with feculence, so no sunlight or moonlight whatsoever could get through it. 

A paper cup, once filled with cheap 3-in-1 instant coffee (the filthy sweet taste was still lingering in his throat), was put on a shabby, small table.

The blinding lit electronic watch was showing around 4 in the morning. If he remembers correctly, they have crashed into the room in around 11 pm, he fell asleep almost 3 hours later, trying to figure out what to do next, listening to his young master's quiet breathing—

Meg.

His eyes started to the other single-sized bed, barely noticing how messy it was. 

The thin duvet was mostly laying on the floor, only covering a half of the girl's lower body and a leg. She was sleeping in a  second-hand t-shirt that was too big for her and looked like a dress from some angle. Her black hair were all around the pillow, some - on her face or in the mouth. Her arms were sprayed on the different sides on the bed, she was weirdly turned around. 

For a second, he saw her so small bended body in Python's cave. His chest got tight, vision - blurry. His mouth tasted like warm lake water.

He didn't really register how'd he manage to get out of the bed so quickly and without falling, but his hands were already checking his sister's Meg's pulse when the afterthought came in. It didn't really matter now, he just needed to be sure that she is alive.

The beating was steady and quiet. She wrinkled her nose a little, before mumbling something about how cool those deer were.

(A few days later when they were driving on a country road near a forest, a few deer came out of it with their fawns running awkwardly along. It seemed, that the small ones were born only a few days prior. 

Meg noticed the animals, pointed it loudly out, smiling. She urged him to stop the car, he did. After an extremely difficult fight with the window, it got opened and the girl was staring at the animals for a solid few minutes. They stared black, their little black eyes resembling black holes far too much. 

After 5 or so minutes, no he didn't count but two songs passed, the animals walked away, the little ones hurrying behind.

'Roe deer.'

She turned around, looking at him strangely as if he just had grown a pineapple instead of his head.

'What?'

He looked at her once more, sighing.

'Roe deer. Those were roe deer.'

After a second of silence, when Meg finished observing how the window was closing, she turned to him once more.

'They were nice.')

He smiled a little, picking up the light duvet and making sure to tuck her in carefully, brushing the raven-black hair away from her mouth. Her glasses were on the jiggered nightstand near the bed.

One look at his hands and he froze. The veins were still a little dark than they were supposed to be. The lake taste came back. 

———— ———— ———— ————

Finding one hunched over a cold toilet seat, retching himself out is a not a good way to form a first impression. Alas, it was not the case.

It was in sickly green, hospital, colour, making the slushy saliva-only substance feel on the tongue even worse than it was already. His hands were hugging the toilet, his knees on the cold tile dirty floor. 

The situation was truly miserable.

His stomach grumbled quietly, making him groan through the nausea.

He was not hungry, or at least, not already.

Meg needed food more than he did, so, what the big deal if he will give her his portions. She was more hungry than he was, she was a child, children need food to grow and to be healthy, so, it was perfectly fine.

He is okay with coffee and some fries that half-mindedly got into his mouth. The planning was going better when he didn't want to sleep anyway and the food did not help it at all. 

His mind remembered how Meg glared at him, while he was sipping any of the cups of coffee, wincing just a little from the awful taste. How she pressed her lips, muttering something under her breath. He didn't really hear any of it, but there were more fries left in the paper box that he ate.

His hands grabbed the toilet harder, another portion of slushy substance went into nowhere.

———— ———— ———— ————

Wiping his mouth, flushing the toilet and trying to regain physical stability were hard to accomplish. Somehow, he managed to. He staggered on his feet, grabbing the sink for support, looking in the mirror for a second and meeting his own dazed eyes. 

The motel razor blade was laying on the edge of the sink, on a small package, right next to the plastic, bright orange, razor itself. He grabbed it, not really thinking much about the afterwards.

The paper got thrown into the bin creating a small sound, the metal gleemed a little in the dim bathroom light (he doesn't remember turning it on, though). 

Red was more familiar to him than gold. He never saw his own ichor, never it was warmly tickling his shoulder and forearm that were covered in similar lines, some deep, some - not, going to the brownish sink. 

The red though? A lot, not all done by himself.

He gazed at the blade, throwing it away to the  paper, washing his face and arm with ice-cold water. It smelled like chlorine. His hands were shaking a little, the liquids got on his shirt and hair. Not that they were not already wet. 

Gulping down Ibuprofen felt nice; his arm was not bleeding a lot. He sighed, stared at the sink for a while, his head empty, the buzzing was slowly stopping, and looked up.

———— ———— ———— ————

Black eyes were staring at him in the mirror, the girl's eyebrows furrowed. Her glasses were a little crooked on her nose, as it was put on in a hurry. 

He looked away, not knowing what to say. She was not supposed to know about it, about anything.

Meg pressed her lips together, shaking.

———— ———— ———— ————

'I—'

The air got sucked out of his lungs as he felt a warm body hitting his own.

Both of them were trembling, she was crying. He hugged her a little tighter, his forearm starting to bleed again.

' 'm sorry.'

[paintedcrows]

Some Fords! (and Martin K Blackwood is also there)

[thevoidstaredback]

Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

Listen. It was an accident. He didn't mean to! It just kinda happened.

So maybe he brought a drink with enough caffeine in it to kill an elephant within a few minutes, and maybe he forgot to put the sleeve on his cup so he could tell it apart from the others, but it's not his fault! He didn't think anyone else was going to have the exact same Yeti cup as him! It's not like he'd seen any of the others carry one before. Besides, he worked with superheros. They should be smart enough to check before drinking someone else's drink.

Danny had been summoned by the Justice League Dark a few years back in order to help with a world ending crisis and he just didn't leave. It's not like he could go anywhere anyway. His ghost half hadn't grown past fourteen and his human half had stopped visibly aging at eighteen. He'd had to leave town as Danny Fenton, but he'd stayed in Amity Park as Danny Phantom. When his parents died of old age, thank god, he'd closed down the portal, stuck around for a few more years, before traveling the world as Danny Fenton.

Anyway, he'd taken up residence in the House of Mysteries after the JLD had summoned him. Constantine, at first, had been wary, but he and the rest of the JLD had grown to accept him. He was an honorary member of the team.

At some point, just after Robin had become Red Robin, Danny had been introduced to the Justice League. He liked those guys, too, and worked with them sometimes. Though, he usually only went to bug them.

Red Robin had been very interested in the fact that his was fourteen and working with grown heros, like he was one to talk, but Danny hadn't explained anything other than saying that he had died and come back. The following conversation was an interesting one that lead to Danny knowing that Nightwing was the Batman he'd met and that Batman was lost somewhere. He'd confirmed that the man was not dead, but he hadn't offered to help look for him. He probably should have, in retrospect.

Back on topic! Everyone in the JLD knew not to touch Danny's drink. They'd all seen him make it before and had been horrified on varying degrees. It's not like it could kill him. He's already half dead! So long as he only drank this specific brew as Phantom, he'd be fine.

The Justice League, apparently, didn't get the memo. He blames Constantine because Zatanna and Raven can do no wrong. No, John, he's not biased.

The point is, Red Robin just had a sip of Danny's drink. The horror he now felt was akin to the fear he held when he'd told his parents he was Phantom. (An interaction that had gone very well, thank you very much.)

Danny knew the exact moment that the vigilante realized he grabbed the wrong drink. His eyes widened to an astonishing degree, and, if he'd been able to seen his eyes behind the mask, Danny knew that the man's pupils would've completely overtaken the irises. His hands started shaking, too. Oh, no. The man's already addicted to hellish amounts of coffee. This is only going to make it worse!

Quickly, and without drawing any attention, thank the Ancients, Danny rushed over. "You, um, you okay, man?" Obviously not, but he tends to talk when he's anxious and he was certainly anxious right now. He could've possibly just killed a man via poison!

"What the fuck is in this coffee?" Red Robin asked, going to take another sip.

Danny pulled the Yeti from his hand and gave him the proper one. "Enough caffeine to kill an elephant."

"Obviously not, seeing as I'm still alive."

"Yeah, I can't tell if that's a good thing or not."

"Excuse me?"

"I-I mean-! I didn't-! You know what I mean." Caffeine is poisonous in excess, and his drink was way beyond excess, but it's the only thing that works for him as a ghost! Superpowered metabolism and all that.

"Do I?" The laugh in his voice answered for him. He took a sip from his drink and frowned at it. "I don't think any coffee will ever be enough again."

"And that's my cue to get my drink very far away from you." Danny turned, fully intent on moving to the other side of the room. Besides, the meeting was going to start as soon as the Flash and Kid Flash arrived, which would be soon. Something about one of their Rouges getting out?

"What?" Red Robin asked, "Why?" If he was a little desperate to get another sip of that coffee, he'd rather not acknowledge it.

"Because you don't need anymore lethal coffee," he muttered, "The sip you took will already keep you awake for three days at least, and it probably jump started an addiction. Best to stop it now. Besides, I need to go have my crisis on how the hell you're still alive after even a sip of this stuff."

"Again, rude." The bird themed vigilante crossed his arms as best he could while holding his cup. "If it's so dangerous, why do you drink it?"

Danny took a deliberate sip as he locked eyes with the technically younger man. "I'm dead. I don't need to worry about my heart stopping or having a seizure."

"Excuses."

"No, it's not 'excuses'. I'm saving your life."

"You're a kid. If I can't have that coffee, then you shouldn't be having it."

"First, I'm older than you. Second, I already told you: I'm dead. This isn't going to hurt me. Third, you can't tell me what to do."

"There's no way you're older than me. You're like, ten."

"I'm thirty-eight!" He balked, "I only look fourteen because I died when I was fourteen. We've been over this."

Neither noticed the entire Justice League looking at them. The two they were waiting on had arrived a few minutes ago and everyone was ready to start the meeting, but they'd been distracted by the two's conversation. Was that true? Had Phantom really died so young? They'd all been made aware he was not living, but they didn't think he'd died so young! Though, that was probably the denial speaking.

The Justice League Dark had been fully aware of this and didn't really bat an eye. Though, someone should probably get this meeting started. A potentially world ending threat was the topic, and that was a pretty important thing to discuss.

Captain Marvel was the first to pull himself together, though that was only after Atlas and Zeus had mentally slapped him out of his stupur. "As, ah, riveting as this conversation is," he stepped between the two boys- er, boy and man? "we really need to start this meeting."

Batman did not clear his throat because he'd not lost his voice in the first place. "He's right. Everyone take your seats."

Storyboard Part 2

[hardly-an-escape]

poll time!

*for context: usually I disagree with this practice and think things like [prompt] month fills should be standalone works in a collection/series. but I have a hunch people might feel differently about drabbles since they're so short.

I’m genuinely curious about this, but also I’ve been writing a lot of drabbles here on tumblr and I’m on the fence about sharing them anywhere else. thanks for voting and reblogging!

[cacodaemonia]

Arthur Lester and John Doe (loosely based on a photo of Riz Ahmed, by Peter Hapak, in this Vanity Fair article)

[themortaldraw]

read twilight thinks he's a dog

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Dick Grayson V Gotham

Chapter 1 - AO3 - Constantine Jr. AU

There were a few minutes every morning, in the dark before dawn when his alarm hadn’t yet rung, where Dick Grayson felt most at peace. Despite the ache in his body the night out as Nightwing, he felt refreshed and content to just rest his eyes until his phone rang and it was time to get ready for the day. 

Unfortunately, peace was never meant to last. 

With a loud crash that definitely woke the neighbors, a little body kicked his door in. A switch was flipped and blinding light filled the room. Dick squinted in the general direction of the intruder. “Get up already!” Danny, his ward, snapped, rushing forward to rip the blankets off his bed. Dick let him. “There’s a case ready for us at the precinct!” 

Dick checked his phone. No missed calls, and Danny didn’t have a phone yet. “Is this another psychic thing?” he asked. 

Danny rolled his eyes. “If I say yes, will you get your ass out of bed already?”

“Language,” he chided absentmindedly, but still got out of bed. Danny glared up at him, still not satisfied, and dragged him to the bathroom with a surprising amount of strength for an 8-year-old. “Huh! You’re really in a hurry today.”

“No, you’re just super slow!”

Dick pulled back against Danny, slowing their progress considerably. “Oh, it’s the age!” Dick bemoaned, draping himself dramatically against the wall. “Now that I have a kid of my own to look after, the years have started to take their toll—Ow!”

Danny glared up at him like he hadn’t just kicked Dick in the shin. Brat. “Be dramatic in your own time! We have a case, Dick, we need to go!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Dick complied and got in the bathroom, saying just before he closed the door, “Make sure you’re dressed in clothes you can afford to lose! I don’t want you to get blood on your favorite jeans again!” Danny shouted back his agreement and finally, Dick was alone. 

As Dick washed his face and did his business, he contemplated how he got there. Honestly, he didn’t get what Bruce was always complaining about; this guardianship thing was going great! It was three weeks since he’d wrangled Danny home, but he’d been preparing for this for months, ever since he learned that the little brat trying to solve murders was homeless. It took months of classes, meetings with CPS, and interviews with friends and family, but Dick was now the proud foster parent of Danny Smith!

Fortunately, Dick had managed to convince Bruce that the foster license was precautionary, like if he needed to protect a minor. Which was what he was doing! So not technically a lie!

Although, Bruce had his hands full already. Some new crime lord had taken up the Joker’s old alias and it was driving the old man up the wall. Bruce had even asked Dick for help on the case last night! He’d said no, of course; he wasn’t just going to abandon Danny in Bludhaven for days while they hunted down Red Hood, and he wasn’t going to spring Danny on Bruce, nor Bruce on Danny. Danny was a flight risk and had expressed disdain for millionaires in the past, and Bruce was… worse than he used to be. Tim had managed to resurrect some of the dad Bruce used to be, but ever since Jason… 

Well, it was good that they wouldn’t be seeing each other any time soon. Maybe by then Tim will have convinced Bruce to go to therapy!

Coming out of the bathroom, Dick started at Danny, dressed in jeans and a Digimon t-shirt, standing on the counter and getting Dick’s lunch bag off the shelf. He cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Packing breakfast to-go!” Danny said, jumping off the counter. Dick’s heart skipped a beat and he lunged forward, but Danny landed before Dick could reach him. He glared at Dick. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He straightened up, playing it cool. He observed what Danny had laid out for breakfast as he started the coffee machine. A banana, two yogurts, and a handful of granola just poured out onto the table. “You know, you absorb more nutrients when you sit down and actually enjoy your food. And we don’t need lunch to-go. Remember, we talked about this? We have to wait for someone to report the crime first.”

“How do you know no one hasn’t yet?” Danny challenged. 

“Have they?”

“...No. We could report the crime though,” Danny grumbled, but opened a yogurt cup. 

They really couldn’t. If they reported the crime, they’d still have to wait for other officers and CSI before investigating, and that’s even if they were given the case! But more importantly… Dick was the only officer in the department who believed Danny could see ghosts. 

Sure, Commissioner Gonzalez believed Danny, but that was just one woman. As much as he appreciated the Commissioner’s work helping get Danny off the streets and processing the paperwork to ensure the boy got recognition as an official BPD consultant… well, Dick knew she had ties to the gangs in town, he just couldn’t prove it. Just because she liked him and Danny doesn’t make her good. 

The fact that she promoted him to detective was evidence enough. Dick was an amazing detective—like everyone trained by Batman—but normally you’d need a certain number of years and successful cases for that level of promotion, both of which Dick didn’t have. Hell, he’d only been working as a cop for two years! But Danny was only willing to work with Dick… so Dick became the youngest detective in the city. 

The coffee machine sang a little robotic song and Dick placed a Nightwing mug under the spout just in time to catch the stream. As Danny finished his breakfast, Dick shooed him off to go brush his teeth and turned on the TV. He still had thirty minutes before they had to leave for work—

“—taking after his father!” Jack Rider’s voice rang through the apartment. Dick frowned; why was this trash on? “Although I have to say, I don’t think anyone ever expected Richard Grayson to adopt a child of his own!”

Dick froze. What? No, he’d worked so hard to ensure that no one would find out—

A picture flashed on screen of Dick and Danny. Dick recognized it immediately; he’d taken Danny out to eat to celebrate Danny officially becoming his foster child. But that was weeks ago! They’d been sitting on the story for that long?

They didn’t even bother to blur Danny’s face. 

“Now, Jack,” the co-host chided, “Let’s not get too hasty. Our source at Bludhaven PD—who will be unnamed to protect their privacy—said it was only a foster, not an adoption.”

Jack waved her concern away. “Yes, a foster. For now. Don’t you remember how long Richard was Brucie’s ward? Sure, the kid might only be a foster for now, but with this family, adoption is always on the table!”

Turning away from the TV, Dick checked their security cameras on his phone. When he’d first moved in, Babs had hacked into all the cameras in the apartment, piggy-backing off their feeds. There, outside the building’s main entrance, were multiple reporters. Some had even gotten into the building, although their aimless wandering told him that their apartment number hadn’t been leaked yet. 

“Still, another street kid in the family,” Jack continued to muse. “That’s two now for the Waynes, right? Are they going to take off with an entire orphanage next?”

“Dick?”

He locked eyes with Danny, who gave the TV a worried look. But Danny didn’t get worried; he was a cocky, grumpy brat who’d given Dick a heart attack when he dared a gang member to shoot him in the face. But a news story scared him?

Smart kid. Dick was feeling scared too. So, he made the executive decision. 

Dick knelt down to Danny’s height, gently grasping his shoulders. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call out of work—”

“But Mrs. Bennett’s murder!” came the immediate protest. 

Dick took note of the name, but held up a hand to stop him. “I know, I know. But it’s not safe for us to go to the precinct right now.” Someone at BPD had told the reporters about them. One of his colleagues, pissed that he’d gotten his promotion unfairly? Someone who hated that a little kid solved murders better than them? Or anyone looking to make a quick buck? The possibilities were endless. 

He continued, “Commissioner Gonzalez will understand and help us consult with the case from online, okay? We’ll get sent pictures of the crime scene and you can talk to Mrs. Bennett and we’ll consult from Gotham just to be safe.” He had some PTO he could use, right? If not… Gonzalez could just fire him. He’d already known his co-workers were corrupt assholes, but to willingly put a child in danger was a step too far. If Gonzalez wanted to keep Dick—and therefore, Danny—she’d better clean house. 

Danny made a face. “Why Gotham?”

“That’s where my family lives! While we wait for the story to die down, I’ll introduce you to my grandfather, Alfred, and my brother Tim, and my friend, Barbra! I’ll show you around to all the fun spots, it’ll be fun! So go get packed, buddy.”

Hesitating in the doorway, Danny said, “They won’t listen to me. The other officers aren’t like you.”

“They will listen to you. I’ll make them,” Dick promised. He’d gathered enough blackmail on his fellow detectives to force the issue, if needs be. He ruffled Danny’s hair. “Don’t worry, Danny. It’ll just be for a week or two and then everything will be back to normal. I promise.”

Danny glared at him, batting his hand away. “I’ll keep you to that promise, old man.”

As Danny retreated to his room—Dick’s former workout room—to pack, Dick went to his own, closing and locking the door behind him. The call to Gonzalez went about as well as he was expecting: first her anger at him taking time off, then his anger about being sold out to the media, then Gonzalez swearing as she found the news online, until finally agreement. 

As they talked, Dick methodically packed away his Nightwing gear. After last night, where a slime meta had unceremoniously caked his suit in gunk that would not come out, he had two functioning suits: his back-up and his original that he kept for sentimental value. He packed all three, along with his gear. Maybe Alfred would be able to get the gunk out? But he couldn’t leave his things here. Their location was already compromised. If reporters decided the risk was worth it, they could break into his apartment and turn the whole place upside down looking for a story. 

So, Dick had to take the story with him. 

With all his gear packed, there was little room for personal belongings, so he did the best he could and only took the important things. His room at the manor still had a few changes of clothes. Fortunately Danny wasn’t a nosy kid, otherwise he’d never be able to get away with carrying his Nightwing gear in a normal duffel bag like this. 

Now, the hard part. 

The phone rang three times before it was picked up. “Master Richard.” Alfred’s icy tone made him wince. Oh, he already knew. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey, Alfie…” Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say that I decided I can help Bruce on that Red Hood case after all?”

“I see.” No matter how angry Alfred was, he was frighteningly polite. “And shall I prepare a second bedroom for your ward?”

Dick winced. “That would be great, Alfred. Thank you.”

“Then I will see you soon. And please inform the young master that I look forward to meeting him when you both arrive.”

“I’ll tell him. He’s been looking forward to meeting you; I’ve been talking up your cooking for months now.”

“Months?” Oh no. “How kind of you, Master Grayson.” It got worse. Alfred was pissed now. Why did he have to say months? It wasn’t like Dick had intentionally hidden Danny from his family; he was just hiding him from Bruce! He wanted some privacy and to figure things out himself! But now Alfie was mad and suddenly that privacy didn’t seem so important anymore. “Shall I assume you’ll be arriving soon then?”

“In around an hour.” Leaving his room, he checked on Danny. He was trying to back everything he owned into the suitcase Dick had bought him. “Maybe a little longer? I’ll call when we’re ten minutes away.” 

“Then I will see you soon, Master Grayson.”

@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog

[zephyrd17]

Helloooo a quick question for all the fanfic enjoyers out there!

Please reblog for sample size!

[royalarchivist]

Richarlyson: You're skinny sir, are you eating well these days?

Pac: Not really. To tell you the truth, I've been eating... I stole, together with my son, we stole some cupcakes from the Federation. I ate some, but I know chocolate isn't the best thing to eat, right?

Richarlyson: 12 kilos D:

Pac: 12 kilos?!? No– what? My god. My god... Am I malnourished, Doctovo? Am I- Am I malnourished?

Richarlyson: You weigh less than a pitbull, sir.

Pac: Less than the singer? Damn... [Laughs]

Richarlyson: [Hits Pac]

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Never Love Another

It was no secret that when Jason came back he came back wrong. The violence and pit rage were the most obvious ones of course, but now that it had faded other little things had started to surface. He had noticed this deep loneliness and homesickness for something he couldn’t remember or name. He didn’t know what to do about it besides, well maybe try to find someone who could sooth the loneliness. But it wasn’t working, if it wasn’t for how bad he wanted a romantic connection he would have thought he was aromatic now because he never, Never felt a spark at all, with anyone.

He actually talked to Dick about it, and let him talk Jason into therapy, but that didn’t help, and when Tim found out about it the paranoid little shit started doing tests. And that was how fucking Bruce found out, and he was even more paranoid so they would not believe it was a coincidence or anything and more tests were done. No answers were found until Batman called in a favour from JLD, Jason tried to insist it wasn’t worth it but Batman said his happiness was the most important thing, which made Jason shut up and make a face like he’d bitten into a lemon.

Now he was just trying to avoid admitting that they were right. “What the fuck do you mean cursed?!” Jason demanded from Constantine who shrugged and lit a new cigarette from the butt of the last one.

“I don’t know mate,” He said with a shrug, taking a drag. “While you were dead you must have pissed off some pretty powerful bastard because it’s Not a petty curse either, not the sort of thing I or Zatanna can break. Looks like it’s to ‘never love again’ or something like that, I don’t know it’s not exactly written in words.” He explained and Jason dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

Of course, why wouldn’t this happened? Honestly though as the literature nerd he was he had to think whoever had cursed him must have been of a similar temperament, given how melodramatic is was.  He wished he could remember what the fuck he had done to get cursed like this?

“So how would we break the curse?” Batman asked, ever solution oriented.

“Don’t know Bats,” Constantine admitted with a one shoulder shrug. “I think you’d have to find whoever cursed him and convince them to lift it. They’re a seriously powerful denizen of the Infinite Realms so we could try a summoning but there’s no guarantee that is would work, and if not you’d have to go to them which would be veeery risky. I’m not sure it’d be worth it honestly, I mean it’s a bit of a blessing isn’t it? Not like our lifestyles really lend to romance,” He snickered and everyone ignored him.

“How long will it take to arrange a summoning,” Nightwing demanded with a frown, why he had to be here too Jason didn’t know but… he was privately a little grateful that he was.

“Mmm A couple of weeks, we have most of the stuff required and the unique ingredients aren’t that hard to find,” the magician hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll remind you, there’s no guarantee that it’s going to work,” he reminded and even though Jason hadn’t looked up he could practically sense the twin scowls Dick and Bruce were shooting John.

“We’re going to try it,” Batman growled and Constantine hummed.

“Sure, whatever you say, I’ll start setting it up.”

------

Those two weeks were plenty of time to panic about who it might be, what Jason might have done to cause this, and what the being might do if they answered the summons. They had a lot of preparations to do, but when Jason tried to say they shouldn’t do this Bruce and the others insisted that they needed to know ho had it out for Jason if just in case they decided to cause more problems. There was discussion about if Jason should be present, but he really wanted to be if this was happening, he wanted to see the monster that had cursed him.

Constantine and Zatanna were both there the day of, as well as Batman and Nightwing, and superman, just in case things went horribly wrong. The spell was… stressful for Red Hood, the portal it opened made him feel like he was staring into the Lazarus pits again, even if it was missing the feeling of rage.

It felt like they were all holding their breath for a few long minutes waiting to see if the summon would be answered. Jason was just starting to think that no one was going to answer when a white booted foot stepped through, followed quickly by the rest of the body.

Jason blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the being that had answered the summons, not because they were some incomprehensible monster, but for the opposite reason, because they looked so human. Not normal, their ashen skin, pointed ears, and white hair that disregarded gravity, made sure of that, but he looked human other then that. A head or so shorter then Jason, lean and agile looking with unusually wide hips and soft curves for a man. His ears were pierced three times, two having studs like planets and a set of dangly ones shaped like a sun and a moon which glinted in the light of the glowing crown on his head. It looked like ice that had trapped the northern lights within them, it was beautiful, it took his breath away.

He had a vague feeling that the others present were talking, but Jason and, it seemed, the spirit, were not hearing them. Jason couldn’t tear his gaze away from the creatures Lazarus green eyes, why did he feel so familiar.

“Jay,” The being breathes, a bright smile spreading across his face, revealing little fangs that shouldn’t have been so adorable. “How did you, you shouldn’t have called me, I don’t… You don’t remember me do you? You shouldn’t,” He breathed, the smile dropping as the initial joy at seeing Jason overtaken by worry.

“We want to know why you cursed my son!” Batman shouted, suddenly cutting through the odd, tunnel version they’d both been trapped in and sending them both reeling. Jason had been leaning forward and ended up stumbling.

“Oh,” The creature sounded, his brows furrowing as Jason finally looked around and noticed how Constantine was cowering.

“Batman! Don’t yell at the fucking king of the Infinite Realms!” Constantine practically squeaked. The king?! How had Jason pissed off the king?! “We’re so sorry for disturbing you your Majesty, please don’t destroy us,” the wizard said, sounding like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

The being still in the circle cackled and crossed his legs under him, sitting on air at the odd cape that looked like it was made of the night sky billowed behind him. “Don’t worry I’m not planning on it, honestly, I am happy to see you again Jaybird,” He said with a soft smile, his gaze going back to Jason like he wanted to drink him in. “You’ve grown so much pretty-bird, are you happy? Do you like being alive again?” He asked worriedly. “You’re always welcome back-“

Nightwing read that as a threat that this supposed King was going to kill Jason again and yanked him back, standing between Jason and the stranger, even though he was shorter and slimmer then Red Hood. “He’s not going anywhere! Why did you curse him?” Nightwing demanded again.

“It wasn’t a curse, it was a price,” Phantom said with a frown. “I would let him go, but not to love another.”

“Love, another?” Jason asked this time, his voice harsh and soft. God how his heart ached, why couldn’t he remember something that made him feel so much longing and pain?

“Another,” Danny said, his voice softening again. “While you were in my realm we were… Close, very close. But you couldn’t let go of life, you weren’t ready to give yourself to me, not fully,” Danny bit his lip for a moment. “It hurt, but I only wanted what was best for you Jay, so if you had unfinished business… well, I let you leave. I did! I let you go, but-but maybe I was selfish, I was going to be waiting decades for you and-and I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting that long only for you to have fallen in love again with someone in life and, even after dying and remembering me, choosing to stay with them! So that was the deal, you get to live again, but only if you don’t love again, and you come back to me when you’re done. You agreed.”

There was a long silence as everyone processed what the king had said, it was Constantine who reacted first, rounding on Jason. “You dated the King of the Infinite Realms!?” He demanded, flabbergasted.

“Ugh, just call me Danny, I’m the king sure but I don’t care much for the title,” The bring in front of them corrected with a grimace.

“Danny,” Nightwing said, holding out his hand in a sort of placating gesture. “Can you… change the price?” He asked uncertainly.

“NO!” Danny said instantly, his voice echoing in a way that made those present flinch. “No, the deal still stands. I let him leave my kingdom, but I won’t completely give him up. I can’t, I can’t,” Danny said and Jason could swear he saw Danny’s eyes glimmer with tears.

“It’s alright,” Jason said, softly as he could, Danny’s pain called to him in a way he couldn’t explain. “It’s just, I’ve been lonely, I’ve felt like I’ve been missing something since I came back. I thought it was love, but now I think, I think it’s you. I’ve been homesick, for You,” He said, stepping closer again and holding out his hand. John yelped when Jason broke the circle, but he was being ignored.

Danny’s eyes widened in shock, then welled over with tears as he reached out and took Jason’s hand, his feet landing back on the ground as he stepped closer. “I’ve missed you too Jaybird, I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe,” He practically whispered. As he stepped over the line a white ring ran up and over his body, leaving a- well, for all appearances a human man with similar features and inverted colours, maybe a little younger then Jason. “I’m sorry you’ve been lonely, but I wanted to let you live your life. If you want, I could visit more? I would be happy to put in the work to, start over, let you get to know me in this life?” He laced their fingers together, taking Jason’s other hand as well, standing chest to chest and looking up at him through dark lashes, framing beautiful clear blue eyes.

“I would love that,” Jason breathed. Startled by a sound of disbelief behind him, he’d forgotten Nightwing was there and he glanced back. “What? It solves the problem of me being unable to love, it turns out I was just trying to love the wrong people.

[reineydraws]

happy 10th anniversary to the finale of the show that gave me my first real fandom community experience! 🥰💖🎉 so here's some art of merlin ✨️just holding✨️ arthur, then and now. (cries)

anyways arthur's back and he's cuddling with merlin and learning how to use a smart phone because i said so. that's the real ending. 😤

[blindmagdalena]

The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn.  ♡

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from. 

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it.  However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel. 

What the fuck? 

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed. 

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust. 

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent. 

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up. 

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you. 

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips. 

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them. 

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows. 

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.

[alchely]

My Top Gallavich fics

So, under the advice of the lovely @iangallagherisadeadman I've decided to compile a favorites Gallavich fic list along with a brief rec of each, this won't be a strict top 10 cause I'm not gonna torture myself into excluding some of these stories on some made-up self imposed arbitrary rules.

A bunch of disclaimers: most of these fics are long fics, going from 30k words up, I'm not purposefully excluding shorter fics, I have read plenty of them, but they do have a harder time sticking in my head months after reading.

Most of these fics will be explicit, just read the tags on the fic itself if you want to find out more.

Some of these fics don't have links because the authors chose to lock them and as such make them unlinkable, in order to read them you will need to go through the author's page while you're logged in your AO3 account.

This ended up ballooning out of control and is A LOT longer than ten fics, I apologize in advance :p.

YOU'LL NEVER SEE US AGAIN – spoonfulstar - 231k words

Mickey and Ian have been students at Marceline boarding school their whole lives, as their time at the institute draws toward the end they will start to discover many things, about themselves, about each other and about the world they live in.

THIS FIC! I CRIED! The number of fanfiction that are able to make me cry can be counted on a singular hand, the emotional stakes get higher and higher as the story goes on, leading to a beautiful and bittersweet climax.

This story will make you think and feel deeply about topics you'd never think a shameless fic would delve into.

I am obsessed with Mickey in this fic, he and Ian grow up in an environment that could not be more removed from South Side Chicago and yet his personality is still so recognizably and distinctly Mickey.

The story goes very dark at times, and the fic itself could be considered lengthy, but I assure you the author has made sure to not make you feel it. Those 200k words flowed so well the story did not feel long at all.

HELP ME (TEAR DOWN MY REASON) – wehangout - 34k words

Mickey is a detective and Ian becomes a suspect in an investigation except Mickey already knows him because he's his favorite dancer.

This fic falls under the umbrella of fics where “Mickey is so in love with Ian he does something unbelievably crazy”.

Oooh boy, this fic, it's written in second person (yes you've read that right), tbh out of all fics I've read from this author I think this one was the easiest to adjust mentally to the change in perspective.

I loved Mickey’s “love” in this, just… This raw connection to Ian, the perfect cocktail of feelings, I could read that all day long.

IN ANOTHER WORLD – Roryonic - 249k words

Mickey does not get sent to prison at the end of S5, what happens after and how his presence influences future events (mostly Ian, but also every other Gallagher as well as his own family).

As far as I'm concerned this fic is the closest to a perfect S6 and beyond fix-it. The dialogue writing in this story is so close to canon Shameless that I could picture entire scenes in my head with the actors playing the characters, with their body and personality quirks.

Sometimes I find myself describing this fic like it's the actual show's deleted scenes, “Look, Mickey has his own storyline! And Mandy is here! And the existence of Yevgeni does not become a plot hole!”

There are some Mickey lines in this fic that to me are as canon as if they'd been in the show. Absolutely iconic writing.

I love this author so here's a rec of some of their other longfics, however I highly suggest a lot of their other much shorter stuff as well:

BATTLESHIPS AND LOVE BOATS: Ian and Mickey start their “no strings attached” kind of sex relationship a little later than canon but their attraction and love is just as strong. This is a sort of High School AU that turns into a Prison AU that turns into something else and every shift is just as lovely as the next.

YOU SMELL LIKE LOVE: Ian and Mickey are childhood friends, to the point that the rest of the Gallaghers might as well consider Mickey a seventh brother, mmmh, I sure wonder how things will start to change. Look, I never thought I'd love a childhood friends AU for Gallavich yet here I am, if it's good it's good.

ME AND THE DEVIL: Mickey unconsciously calls for a vengeance demon and Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, because Mickey is a stubborn dumbass they fall in love instead. This story has a lot of twists and turns and the premise is only the very beginning of the story. I LOVED it!

THE INCREASINGLY POOR DECISIONS OF IAN GALLAGHER – Shamelessquestions - 309k words

Ian is a dancer in a club, he accidentally gets involved in the affair of a dangerous mafia don, but the true danger is the attraction he and the mafioso’s right hand Mickey feel for each other as soon as they meet.

What. A. Classic. Truly, an unforgettable story, and I don't mean this in hyperbole, I read this story around… 2016/2017 during my second round in the Shameless fandom, then I read countless other fics in a lot of other fandom and yet this story was the only one that my mind retained from back then, to the point that I could still remember some of the finer details as well as the final plot twists when I came back to reread it.

The plot is constructed beautifully and the original characters (part of the Shamelessquestions fanfiction universe, as they come back time and time again in every one of their AU to fulfill their role in the story) are just as vibrant.

What a story, truly.

Favorite original character in this AU: Sal, his downfall is so satisfying and yet so pitiful to read.

TEENAGERS SCARE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME – Mellow_Yellow - 221k words

Ian finds something scary and calls Mickey for help, even though they had only reconnected that very day after two years of not seeing each other. Together, they get sucked into a situation they weren't at all prepared for. Can they even admit that they're in over their head?

The very beginning of this fic is SO cinematic it grabbed my interest from the very first scene and didn't let go until the end, DO NOT search for spoilers.

The only warning I'll give is that it does deal with a bit of gore and what I'm personally gonna define as slight psychological horror. That's it. Enjoy!

BROKE STRAIGHT BOYS – dancermk - 66k words

Mickey becomes a porn actor for a site where he has to pretend he's straight and not enjoying the copious amount of gay sex he's having on camera, enter Ian, another actor under the same agency and their off the chart physical chemistry.

This story has, needless to say, some really, really good smut. I especially loved their first time together, but every sex scene in this story is seared in my mind.

ETHERIZED AGAINST THE SKY – Snarfle - 213k words

So, I debated whether I should add this fic or not, but I think if there is one fic that will stay in my mind long after this Shameless binge of the past couple of months it's this one, and it should absolutely become one of those fic that everyone in the fandom should read.

After Mickey gets shot by Kash his life takes a completely different direction and he ends up in a group home where, through many difficult times, he turns his life around.

So many iconic moments in this fic, some funny as fuck, some sad, some so absurd that I'm surprised they weren't lifted straight from Shameless, one so gruesome in the very first chapter that I was surprised to have such a visceral feeling from just words on a screen. Yeah, this story will stay with me for a long time.

OLD RULES FOR NEW SIDE PIECES – Shamelessquestions - 217k words

Ian is a Fed and he spots Mickey looking suspicious in an art museum, the mutual attraction is overwhelming, Mickey is not what he seems and Ian is already with someone else, but that's not gonna stop him from pursuing what he and Mickey have.

Putting it as bluntly as I can, this fic made me face the realization that I love cheating fics (if the cheating happens to someone else to bring together the endgame couple). I have already reread this fic twice and I could probably go for another one and not get tired of it, it's that good, and out of all this author's fics it's probably my favorite.

Favorite original characters in this AU: It's a three way tie between Dre, Ivan and Carrie, they're all very captivating in this story.

Other fic from this author I'd recommend cause I really love their style:

LOST IN TRANSLATION: Ian meets a very attractive man while he's in Ukraine who doesn't speak English, a mere language barrier won't stop him from flirting for hours. (adorable)

YOU MAKE ME FEEL HUMAN – Dragona - 66k words

Ian is an assassin, he meets Mickey and thus begins a very sick love story.

To say I'm obsessed with this fic is an understatement, I suggest to everyone to just go read the original author’s own description of the fic, it sets the tone of the story magnificently.

This is an Ian Gallagher that almost resembles Jerome (also played by Cameron in Gotham) but like… a slightly more subdued and saner S1/S2 version of him. I love the layers that get peeled right in front of my eyes, the madness that creeps in a bit more every chapter. I LOVE this story.

DRIED INK - 87k words

This fic combines my two favorite Gallavich-specific tropes, one being ‘Mickey comes back from prison after s6, Ian is with someone else’ and ‘Ian cheats on that someone else for Mickey’

I love the Gallaghers in this and how unsurprised they are at Ian going back to Mickey right away. It's a little jewel of a fic.

Mickey tries SO hard to stop himself and Ian in this but their love is too magnetic, they're irresistible to each other.

THE QUESTION OF NORMAL – blue_newman - 92k words

Ian is a prison counselor, Mickey is in prison, they fall in love and it's beautiful and Ian is incredibly devoted to Mickey in this fic and I fell in love with them both in this.

KINDA RAW – catgrassplantdad - 6k

Quite simply this is my favorite short pwp fic.

Illustrating those “five times” in one night that Mickey references in 11x01.

This fic is so hot, I love it <3

QUATERVOIS – DodgerBear - 51k words

Soldier Mickey gets stationed in the middle of nowhere and meets a farmer called Ian who makes him question everything.

Falling under the same umbrella of “Mickey does something crazy for Ian” fics and this is why it stuck in my mind even if it's been a while since I've read it.

I LOVE this story, their dialogues and everything that happens in it. The setting is lovely and you will fall in love with the description of Ian’s farm.

Other fic by the same author that I also loved:

BURDEN OF PROOF: Cop Mickey gets caught in a legal battle between the two oldest Gallagher brothers, something doesn't feel right though…

THE WORDS HE DOESN'T SAY: Mickey is released before Ian in s10 and has to meet a court-mandated therapist. The story is from the therapist POV and goes AU from the beginning of s10 in that Mickey gets involved back into Yev and Svetlana’s life, the dialogue is, quite obviously, the main attraction of the story and it's really well done. (Also, written in first person).

THE MENAGERIE – CrossMyDNA - 147k words

Ian decides to re-explore his bdsm preferences at The Menagerie where he meets sub extraordinaire Mickey on his very first visit.

Shameless is undoubtedly the fandom that opened my eyes to what bdsm could be back in… approx 2016? When that other popular bdsm fic was still around *ahem*.

So it definitely feels like a sign that coming back into the fandom this fic now exists and is SO GOOD.

Obviously it's very explicit, the smut in this fic is one of the best I've ever read.

The chemistry between Ian and Mickey sizzles off the screen and can absolutely be felt even in moments not of the nsfw variety, absolutely recommended!

MICKEY MILKOVICH’S GUIDE TO FLIRTING – whatwouldmickeydo - 40k words

An s2 “missing moments” between Gallavich, completely canon compliant, all under the pretense that Mickey is following a step by step guide to flirting.

I wish this fic was describing canon moments, not kidding a single bit, I wish I could somehow magically manifest these scenes into existence they're that good and fit that well into canon.

M8TE – gallawitch - 53k words

Omegaverse fic where Ian and Mickey both start using an app and end up matching with each other, even though a connection is made almost instinctively, coming to terms with it with a sound mind will take a bit longer…

Hey,had to have at least one of these on here lol

I love omegaverse and this was everything I wanted from it, couldn't have asked for anything better really <3.

SHACKLED – MyRelapse - 19k words

Ian has a change of heart and he decides that Mickey IS the one he wants, even if he's still in prison, so he keeps in contact and goes through every hoop imaginable to have him back as soon as possible.

Reading this made me so happy like I could burst, love it.

WAITING ON MY OWN TOO LONG – Ride4812 - 266k words

This rec more than any other on this list is what I'm gonna consider self indulgent because it covers the trope I always craved to read in such a satisfying way: Canon AU where Mickey comes back from prison after 8 years, Ian has found someone else but the moment the two meet again they fall back into each other right away.

The series is made up of 4 smaller fics:

One more night

Something more this time

No more lonely nights

Ain't this life so sweet

(I will point out here and nowhere else that the last installment of this series has some segment that probably needed to be re-read a couple more times, but by that point I was too invested, and the quality fluctuates a lot only in certain parts)

The writing style is very direct and to the point, which I love, the smut is very present and written beautifully and most importantly never boring.

Ian is a MESS in this fic and had me Stressed™, mostly cause for some reason I can't handle too much casual depiction of drug abuse and addiction (I know, ironic considering the fandom).

Conflicts and resolutions are never clean cut, they don't necessarily resolve quickly or definitely or the way you probably imagine they should and I find this level of realism very satisfying.

Taking a bit of space here at the end to also rec a couple other Ride4812 fics that I also loved:

COUP DE FOUDRE - A model/photographer AU where Ian and Mickey fall in love the instant they meet and do some crazy things because of that.

HOPE HE MIGHT - A lawyer AU where Ian and Mickey are on opposing sides for the same client, an interesting murder mystery steeped in a religious cult.

Generally I feel like this author is really good at depicting just how unapproachable Mickey can be to anyone that isn't called Ian Gallagher and I eat it up every time.

WHAT THE NIGHT DOES TO THE DAY – andchaos - 9k words

A Gallavich childhood friends AU with a quite original arrangement for the story and the various segments of their lives. Very satisfying read.

RANSOM – BeckyHarvey29 - 112k words

Terry sends his sons to kidnap a Gallagher child to force Frank into paying back the money he owes, unfortunately for him Mickey and his brothers kidnap Ian, and a whole other kind of story unfolds.

Mickey and Ian falling in love in this fic is such a good read. I don't wanna spoil anything of how that or the kidnapping plot goes, since the two are so intertwined. Just know that it will be worth it.

UNDER LOCK AND KEY – Suzy_Queue - 106k words

Ian is assigned the night shift at his new job where he provides spare keys to his fellow college students stuck outside their dorm rooms. To make matters worse his shift coworker is the oh so infamous Mickey Milkovich.

I am magnetized by the way this author writes their pining for each other, their attraction and obsession, how it blooms and unfolds. This fic in particular had me develop a very bad case of tunnel vision, couldn't really turn away until I finished reading it all.

I still haven't read everything this author has to offer, but so far I also loved:

INHUMAN: A mysterious force starts attacking people close to Mickey and it all seems to lead to a mysterious redhead Mickey is oh so coincidentally obsessed with. Very cool paranormal story.

THESE FOOLISH GAMES: Mickey takes over as the boss of the local branch of a trampoline park, where Ian is one of the employees, they annoy each other to no end but what they don't know is that they're secretly texting each other.

IS THERE SOMEWHERE – andchaos - 48k words

Mickey is born with no words on his skin, convinced he's going to live a life of misery cause no one will ever say the words he's destined to hear, he's not a very happy guy. Here comes mute boy Ian who crashes into his life and won't let go.

A classic Soulmate AU, I love that like in a lot of other Gallavich fics their physical connection and compatibility usually comes before their emotional one, it is one aspect that I feel distinguishes their relationship to many other fandom’s ships.

LAST NIGHT AT THE VERONA GRAND HOTEL – the_rat_wins - 27k words

Mickey starts working at an ancient hotel who's supposedly haunted. Mickey doesn't believe in ghost stories, he is much more interested in this one guest he meets at night during his shift.

What a cinematic experience this fic is! Absolutely recommended, the length of it makes it so you can read it in the same time it would take to watch the same story in movie format.

Other fics by the same authors that have impressed me:

FADE THIS ONE TO BLACK: Ian dies of overdose in a pile of snow outside the club, when Mickey finds him there he vows to do anything to get him back.

I don't know why but this fic in particular gives off the vibes of being a pilot for a ya urban fantasy TV series, except we gotta imagine everything that comes after the first episode lol

NO LIE: Ian and Mickey are Soulmates and as such they can't lie to each other. This series is short and sweet and full of feelings, perfect

PARAGRAPHS – pink_ink - 100k words

Ian becomes a reading tutor for ex-convicts, Mickey is among them and Ian starts paying him more and more attention.

This is a story where they meet under very different circumstances and where they've lived slightly different lives compared to canon and yet they're still able to find each other in the end.

Also, sign me up for every fic where Ian has to work just as hard to help Mickey and care for him as the opposite, where Ian's brand of stubbornness is the only way to get through to Mickey.

I'm also adding a couple of ongoing fics, just two to not overwhelm too much.

NONE THE WISER – Loftec - ~218k words

Ian starts visiting Mickey’s diner, it takes a while and yet no time at all to warm up to each other.

I'm captivated by the author's writing style. I love Ian's and Mickey’s relationship. I love how they sort of take their time and yet pine helplessly for each other.

I'm obsessed with the fact that the whole point of the fic doesn't appear until two thirds of the way in cause the diner scenes were just too good to pass up on lol (and I 100% agree with them).

INTRO TO QUANTUM DATING – spoonfulstar - ~563k words

Canon Mickey and Ian meet in University. A college slice of life but drenched in the casual (and not so casual) darkness of canon shameless.

The dark humor in this is fenomenal and left me gasping laughing so many times.

Unexpectedly Ian in this fic is pursuing a linguistics oriented degree, which was what I studied when I tried university, the topics are explained in such an accurate way I have to assume the author studied them themselves and that this story is somewhat a reimagining of their own college experience because if not this would be an absurd amount of accurate research to make.

Reading this fic feels like living through the American college experience from the comfort of my home lol.

As I said before, this author's way of writing does not weight you down even with its length, the story flows perfectly from one scene to the next and before you realize it you've reached the end and you have to accept that 500k words weren't even enough.

Let's end this list with some quick recommendations

WHILE WE'RE MAKING OTHER (PEOPLE'S) PLANS - kyasticlikestea

Mickey is volunteered to organize someone's else's wedding after he managed to salvage his own so well, he'll do it, but his own Southside way.

THIS IS THE ROAD TO RUIN - bricoleur10

Ian and Mickey never go to rob Ned, the story unfolds differently from there. A fix-it with a lot of Gallavich longing , very good smut and some really good dialogue.

HEY, HONEY MINE (I WAS THERE ALL THE TIME) - serveteas

Mickey talks about his crush with Iggy and accidentally pronoun-slips. Short, to the point, funny af and I just really love it. Takes place after their fight at Kash’n Grab in s2.

AGAINST GLASS - AllThatMatters

Ian gets traded from one club to another as a dancer (and more) and ends up in the Milkovich family's club. This is a Mafia!Mickey story with some pretty tight sub-plots, I love his brothers in this.

ONE OF A KIND - fckyeahgallavich

Mickey breaks his finger and it has to be set in the hospital, chaos - of the homophobic kind - ensues. Protective!Ian, I wanna hug Mickey in this.

IAN THE FRIENDLY GHOST - Ravenheart

Ian is haunting an apartment and Mickey starts living in it, Ian is maybe starting to have a crush on him. This isn't angsty!

BLOOD IN, BLEED OUT - brewrosemilk, Whatsastory

Historical AU. Perfectly innocent bystander Ian Gallagher is thrown into the affairs of the Ukrainian Mafia back in 1954, his relationship with Mickey will span decades and he won't remain innocent for long, the mafia can corrupt anyone.

TEENAGE RUNAWAY - sadwhales

Ian comes to live and finish high school with his half siblings on the South Side, he's immediately captivated by a boy sitting under the bleachers, maybe his North Side naivety will catch his attention too.

GARDEN SONG - melwrtiesthings

A glimpse into their lives in their West Side apartment, a lot of initial angst due to a manic episode and then a lot of recovery and healing and learning more about themselves.

[erinwantstowrite]

the sneak pics have me wondering why peter feel the need to keep apologizing all the time ? is it because adults used to get mad at him all the time ?

yeah he has a LOTTT of unpacking to do with that. he still thinks that because he did things like this, it gave the adults around him the excuse to yell at/say nasty things to him. peter goes into a lot of detail with Dick about his previous foster homes in chapter 15, and this time Dick knows he has to ask because Peter's response to Dick and Wally realizing he knew about the "glitches" in some way and didn't tell Dick is absolutely heartbreaking

[sssammich]

fic: let there be another day

inspired by this fantastically angsty gifset of a supercorp AU. happy supercorp sunday yall

thanks x

---

The days transform steadily, selfishly, into weeks. Until the weeks have amounted to six months of nothing. Nothing between them but a phantom line of what they’d been to each other, once upon a time.

There is a crater in Lena’s heart, a botched excavation of the way she’d willed herself to forget Kara, to protect the two of them from the ruthlessness of her family. So she’d cored herself first, hoping to beat her brother and mother to the punch. Yet Kara had dug herself further into her heart, straight into her marrow. 

So she failed, in the end, to rid herself of the woman she’d loved with her whole being. 

But it’s gotten easier, in a way, existing in this reality where she had to deny herself the chance for happiness if it meant her happiness could live. 

Her family has continued to terrorize her, but she’s acclimated. Expected it, really. Their efforts of trying to eliminate the few people who have been able to reach the fortress of her heart have now since changed to recruiting her into the fold of the family business. 

She now only functions to keep L-Corp as an entity of good despite her family’s best attempts at compromising her work. It’s fine, because she has accepted that her work will be her life. Her love—her grief—has become the shape of late nights in front of her computer, of half-filled decanters as she oversees expense reports, of dry-cleaned power suits and a lethal red lipstick as armor worn in superfluous business meetings. 

It’s worth it, she reasons, when she catches sight of Supergirl zooming past her window to save the day once more. 

—

Lena should have known that Lex and Lillian are simply biding their time until they strike. The last couple of months of relative quiet was not a sign of reprieve. So when the glass of her office doors break and splinter into tiny crystalline pieces, her heart aches not in fear, but in disappointment. 

She’s never had a death wish and would never wish this hurt upon herself, but the amount of threats to her life has surpassed her age. She thinks that maybe if both Lex and Lillian simply just got it over with, that she can get some goddamn rest. But she knows why she fights and why she keeps going. If only to spite her family, if only so that her sacrifice isn’t in vain. 

Another explosion erupts and throws Lena partway across her office, her head hitting the corner of her desk with a thud. She opens her eyes and her vision blurs, her head throbbing with pain, her body tense and sore all at once. Distantly, she can hear the fire alarm go off just as the sprinklers start shooting off water and flooding her office. 

She attempts to stand and find an exit, but her body betrays her intentions, buckling under her weight as she’s sprayed with water all around her. She falls onto her knees and subjects herself to crawling towards the exit with only but reckless determination and an almost-extinguished hope that she will make it out of this alive. 

Before she can take another step forward, there’s a whooshing sound that fills her already ringing ears and suddenly, warmth envelopes her. 

She sighs in resignation and gratitude when she feels the familiar weight around her. Lena knows before she opens her eyes what has engulfed her so safely, so securely. It cuts her heart just as it heals it, and she is in a loop of pain and joy. 

She wants to open her eyes, truly, to look into ocean eyes and a field of golden grass. But she is in pain and she is hurting. Her only course of action is to keep her eyes closed as strong arms grab hold of her—gently, always so gently—and whisks her out of her now compromised and ruined office. 

—

When she comes to, she finds herself in a secluded and private examination room of the National City Hospital, discretion of the highest priority as a prominent public figure. It’s one she’s been in before, from a past attempt at her life. It’s almost something like a comfort, this familiar space that has seen her bruises, cuts, and scrapes. 

The door swings open and she hears Kara behind her begin to make her exit. She doesn’t look up but when she catches sight of the red cape just by the bed, she holds up a hand and stops the movement altogether. 

She only lets go when the doctor looks down from her clipboard and settles on the rolling stool, the creak of the leather as she rolls closer to Lena. 

She allows the doctor to do what she does best, intently listening to the sound of the squeaking stool and the crinkling of the paper of the examination bed as doctor works.  

A mild concussion, some cuts and bruises. It could have been worse, she’s told. It always could have been worse and she wants to yell at Dr. Shapiro that this feels pretty close to the worst. Still, she listens carefully as her doctor explains how fortunate she is for surviving after the second and third explosions completely decimating her office. 

“Third explosion?” she asks, this information brand new to her. 

“Mm,” the doctor hums. “The second blast was the reason for your concussion, but according to reports, the third blast was close to you and would have knocked you prone and done serious damage had you not found cover.” 

Lena tries very hard not to twist her aching body and look over her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Doctor.” 

The doctor looks at her meaningfully before glancing over Lena’s right shoulder and placing a hand on hers, squeezing, and then letting go. 

The door closes with a quiet click, but instead of an exhaled deep breath, she holds herself tense. She shuts her eyes and listens to the way the superhero makes just enough noise so Lena knows where she is. First, from the chair she’d been occupying, then the sound of boots against the linoleum flooring, then the swish of the cape as it catches against the corner of the examination bed and back down again. 

“Where can I take you?” 

She opens her eyes to the setting sun, to saltwater ocean, to a small smile she hasn’t allowed herself to witness in six months. 

She doesn’t know what’s safest, what her family is planning, what the total damage is. She needs her phone, she needs access to her company, she needs—

“Can I go with you?” is what she says. 

Kara studies her, like the horizon staring back, and nods. She opens her hand, the thumb loop of her suit wrapping around her palm, and offers it to Lena. 

She takes it, sliding her unsteady hand in place and breathes when Kara clasps their hands together. 

—

Kara’s apartment smells the exact same. 

She does not comment on this, though it’s the most prevalent thought in her mind. Kara lets her walk in first, speeding to the lamps and switching them on until the apartment is bathed in faint golden light. Fitting. 

“Get cleaned up. I’ll have some spare clothes for you right outside the bathroom.” Kara passes her a towel, and she hugs it to her chest. 

The water scalds her skin, stings the open scratches and cuts. And she revels in it, her alabaster skin reddening under the downpour of it. She savors it until the shower sputters a little and the hot water becomes tepid then becomes cold. She squeals and jumps away, hitting herself against the side of the shower stall and knocking half of the soaps and hair products off the shelf. 

Kara is there in an instant, opening the door and getting soaked herself, trying to protect her. 

Naked and broken, she looks up to the setting sun that is Kara’s concerned face, and then she starts laughing. 

“I—the hot water ran out.” 

Kara exhales, that cold water matting down her hair on her forehead as she protects Lena from the downpour. “Sorry, I never did call the landlord about it.” 

She turns off the water behind her and steps out of the shower stall to pick up Lena’s towel for her. She opens the towel and turns away. 

You’ve seen it all before, she wants to say, but doesn’t. Instead, she takes the towel and wraps it around herself, the cold beads of water from her hair clinging to her neck, her shoulder blades. 

Kara steps aside, offers her a shy smile, and leaves wordlessly. Lena listens to the way she walks around the apartment, the clattering of the plates on the table. 

She steps out and smiles when she finds spare clothes placed on a stool right outside the bathroom door. 

When she next steps out of the bathroom, she is wearing Kara’s oversized shirt with a faded cartoon drawing of National City State Fair on it and a spare set of her pajama pants that she didn’t realize she’d forgotten, she'd thought Kara would have gotten rid of. 

The spread of Chinese food on the coffee table is modest, but familiar. 

She takes a seat in the spot she once proclaimed as hers, and accepts the plate from Kara’s grasp. They eat in silence with only the sound of the television playing on in the background. 

Kara watches her—studying her, Lena’s sure—but doesn’t say anything. She talks about her week because Lena had asked, and so she gives it to Lena. They clear their plates, then she trails after Kara to the kitchen, parking herself on the kitchen island. Kara seems to anticipate her and passes a pint of Cherry Garcia towards her with a spoon on the lid. 

“Good for concussions, I heard,” Kara offers, a twitch of a smile on her lips.  

She laughs at that, surprised, but accepts the ice cream, opening the lid and taking a spoonful. “That’s tonsillitis.” 

Kara shrugs but takes a spoonful of her own Rocky Road on the opposite side of the kitchen island. So much of right now exists superimposed to how things had been before, how their lives had been so entwined, so integrated. It is unnerving as it is comforting, and Lena accepts that for today, at least, she has to accept the disorientation. 

Eventually, “here. I charged your phone. I’d call Sam first, then Jess.”

There is distance between them, far greater than the kitchen island in front of her, and it shows itself for the first time now, here. After everything.  

“Kara, I—” 

“I need to fill Alex in on everything. Let her know you’re alright. I’ll be right outside.”  

She nods, glances at her phone and the laptop that Kara slides across the kitchen island, and watches as Kara walks out the front door. 

For a solid hour, she works through everything she can considering her mild concussion. She touches base with her assistant, with her team, and finds that they have taken care of everything for her. She sighs in relief, shuddering into her hands when Sam and Jess let her know that they have everything handled, that all they want for her is to rest, that the investigation into her family’s attempt at assassinating her might finally have some legs with some information they’d discovered during the cleanup. 

She sighs, sniffling into the back of her hand and tells them goodnight before she closes her phone and sobs into her hands, the day finally wearing her down. 

She doesn’t startle when arms wrap around her, the press of a strong body kneeling in front of her as she cries into the crook of Kara’s neck. She grabs fistfuls of Kara’s shirt as her tears soak through the cotton. 

Kara only holds onto her, rubbing her back and gently cradling Lena in her arms. Soft shushing filters through Lena���s ears and she sobs further into Kara, hoping Kara can just absorb her entirely, as if that’s the only thing that can protect her—from her family, from the world, from herself. 

Her sobs lasts and lasts, a never ending fountain of all the tears she’d shoved back in, a dam bursting now that she’s allowed herself.

—

Kara carries her to the bed, quietly ushering her under the covers just as she sits on the edge of it. 

“You saved me,” she says, her voice coming out slightly congested.  

Kara brushes her hair behind her ear. “That promise has never changed.” 

“They’re never going to stop, are they?” 

Kara shakes her head. 

“I thought by letting you g—” she huffs, turns away. “I thought I was protecting you. I was trying to do the right thing.” 

Kara grabs hold of her hand and places it on her lap, her fingers fiddling with Lena’s palm, but doesn’t quite look at her. 

“I’m afraid that the only times I will see you, I’m trying to save your life. And I—it worsens when I think that I can’t make it.” 

Lena watches Kara’s beautiful profile, the expanse of her forehead, the slope of her nose into the curves of her lips and down her jutting chin, trembling slightly in the faint light outside the bedroom curtain. Then she sees the bob of Kara’s throat, a single tear falling into the center of her palm. 

Kara’s facing her now, and Lena brings up her other hand to wipe Kara’s cheek. 

“I missed you, Lena. And I don’t know what I will do if I can’t make it to you in time, I—” 

This time, it’s Lena who pulls her close, wrapping the arm that Kara’s been focusing on around her front as she cradles Kara in her arms. “I’m sorry, darling,” she says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.” 

Kara then turns in her arms and they embrace one another, both hiding in each other. 

The tears stain and soak her neck, but she lets it, welcoming Kara’s weight after months of being so untethered. 

“Please, just come back to me,” Kara says into her skin, muffled words that hold so much promise. “Let me take care of you. Let me protect you,” 

Lena pulls back slightly. “You’d still—you’d still want me?” 

“Let me love you again, Lena.” 

Unable to hold her own tears back, Lena pushes forward until their lips meet. She angles her head and Kara kisses her back, the pair of them holding each other. 

There is an ache to their reunion, but there is healing, too. And Lena remembers, unbidden, Dr. Shapiro’s words. It could have been worse, she’d heard. 

But Lena wants it to be better. She deserves at least that, for all of her troubles, and if her family will aim for her and all that she loves, then she can’t hide herself in the shadows. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Tomorrow, she thinks, after the whispered declarations and the promises of more, of better, of a new day. Together. 

“I’m here. I’m here. I love you, too. I’m here.” 

[nyoomerr]

For the drabble request, I can never get enough shixiong!SY bingqiu. But only if you're up to it :)

ok it turns out i'm fundamentally unable to write a drabble as short as theyre meant to be, so here's over 4k words of shixiong!sy for your perusal 🤡 (+ a decent helping of cranky peak lord sqq and his wayward head disciple sy)

---

Shen Yuan… has possibly let himself become a bit too relaxed, since he first transmigrated. He used to spend every day on high alert: every cute little kid might be the protagonist, every mistake he made might have been logged somewhere for a petty revenge side plot later. He wouldn’t dare miss anything plot relevant, not when it might cause his doom. After all, ‘Shen Yuan’ wasn’t even a named character within PIDW - he was well and truly canon fodder!

But then, ah… Then Shen Yuan was accepted as a disciple on Qing Jing, and then he was a personal disciple of the notorious Shen Qingqiu, and then - 

Well, not even Shen Yuan can keep up that sort of hyper vigilance all the time, okay!! He’s the scum villain’s head disciple - basically a henchman! If he lived in fear for every moment he might be condemned, he’d never have a second to rest!

It isn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that the best way to relax in this world is to go on years-long expeditions off peak! 

…It might, maybe, be just a tiny bit my fault, Shen Yuan thinks, staring at Luo Binghe with horror. How does he manage to take such a long vacation that he misses the protagonist’s arrival onto Qing Jing? What kind of fake fan is he, ah?!

Luo Binghe has not introduced himself as such, but there is no way he can be anyone but Luo Binghe. His hair falls into perfect curls around a face so cute and round Shen Yuan wants to squish his cheeks until they turn pink, and he’s wearing an expression so determined and focused that it puts Shen Yuan to shame as the head disciple.

And he’s chopping wood. That’s the most recognizable part, obviously. 

Shen Yuan forces himself to step forward into the small glade he found Luo Binghe in, clearing his throat awkwardly. Luo Binghe whips around, and Shen Yuan nearly cringes at the nervous apprehension on the boy’s face.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you…” Shen Yuan trails off. Luo Binghe stares at him and says nothing. Shen Yuan’s perfectly nice and friendly smile starts to slip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…?”

“Apologies to Shixiong, this one will be sure to cut wood further away from the main peak buildings, so Shixiong doesn’t have to see me again.”

“Wha - wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!” Shen Yuan cries, becoming increasingly concerned about just how long he’s been away from Qing Jing. 

For Luo Binghe to already be this wary of any Shixiong who looks his way… ah, Shen Yuan has basically already failed every single one of his loose plans to keep Luo Binghe from blackening! He wasn’t even there to witness Luo Binghe’s initial perfect white sheep days, let alone keep him out of the warpath of bullies and bitter Shizuns!

“This Shixiong is Shen Yuan,” he says, taking a few slow steps closer to Luo Binghe. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he has to be ready to catch Luo Binghe by the scruff if he tries to run off or start a fight while Shen Yuan is just trying to introduce himself, ah!

“This one is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe replies, dipping into a perfunctory bow.

“Yes!” Shen Yuan says. “I mean - well, it’s a good name.”

Luo Binghe’s expression only grows more wary. 

“And ah, how long has Luo Binghe been on the peak?” Shen Yuan asks, even though the look Luo Binghe is giving him makes him want to slink back off into the bamboo forest. He has to know - if he’s lucky, it’ll only have been a year or two, and Shen Yuan can -

“This one has been a disciple of Qing Jing for over three years, now,” Luo Binghe says.

“Hm!” Shen Yuan says, because what he really wants to do is yell but he can’t do that with this customer service smile plastered on his face. 

Inwardly, he allows himself to monologue out a list of swears that would’ve gotten his old online accounts temporarily locked. Over three years is too long!! The blackening has already started!! Luo Binghe has already started damaging his meridians by following that cursed fake manual, has already started training under Meng Mo, and most importantly has already given up hope of being accepted here and started farming resentment instead!

Shen Yuan is fucked!! What sort of half-assed blackening prevention plan starts this late!?

“Ah, so Luo-shidi must already be 15, or nearly there,” Shen Yuan says aloud, laughing nervously. “Are you, um, sure?”

Please, please tell this pitiful Shixiong of yours that you just misspoke!!

Luo Binghe looks at him like he’s an idiot. Shen Yuan can feel nervous sweat beading along his forehead.

“It’s just - well, Luo-shidi is quite small, for being 15,” Shen Yuan says, and then nearly bites his tongue in an attempt to correct himself. Who is he to call the protagonist ‘small,’ ah!! “Not quite small! Only a bit! Only - uh, only slightly smaller than I’d expect! It’s only that I’m already 19, and Luo-shidi is much - I mean only a little! - shorter than I am, so -”

Shen Yuan makes himself shut up. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the protagonist, you idiot!

“This one will be sure to train more to get bigger,” Luo Binghe says, though it sounds a bit like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“No, no, you’re training plenty!” Shen Yuan rushes to say. “Uh, that is - admittedly, I’ve been off peak for some time now, but when I was Luo-shidi’s age, things like chopping wood were a group chore, so if you’re managing it all by yourself, surely you’re… big and strong…”

Shen Yuan shuts up again. Luo Binghe stares at him some more, but there’s something in his expression that seems more considering that it had been just a moment ago.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, he seems to come to some sort of resolution, and takes a hesitant step towards Shen Yuan.

“Forgive this one’s ignorance,” he says, slow and careful. “The other Shixiong said it was a chore best done alone to build strength. Is that wrong?”

“Very wrong,” Shen Yuan says, nearly beside himself with relief. 

Good, very good! Luo Binghe hasn’t lost all hope for his time on Qing Jing Peak just yet, after all! Given the chance, he’ll still try to carefully raise the issue of his bullying to a responsible Shixiong to take care of!

Shen Yuan can so be a responsible Shixiong that takes care of reports of bullying for Luo Binghe!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, edging even closer to Shen Yuan. “Then what does Shen-shixiong think I should do?”

“Luo-shidi doesn’t have to do anything about this,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “This Shixiong will take care of finding out who’s meant to be sharing this chore with you and make them do the rest of it.”

“There might be multiple people,” Luo Binghe offers, still speaking with a caution that makes it quite clear how likely he thinks it is that Shen Yuan’s assistance will vanish as soon as Luo Binghe complains too much. 

“Because Luo-shidi has been made to do this chore alone for many days, now?” Shen Yuan asks. 

Still looking a bit wary, Luo Binghe nods. Shen Yuan sighs, having expected that answer, and takes the final steps needed to get within arm’s reach of Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him closely, his hands curling tighter around the ax he’d been using to chop the wood. 

Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Shen Yuan raises one hand to place gently on Luo Binghe’s head. He really is too short for 15, but Shen Yuan knows all the details of ‘why’ - having to work too hard with not enough rest, having meals withheld from him or being served with spoilt ingredients - any kid would be a bit small, when under those conditions.

Luo Binghe had gone stiff under Shen Yuan’s touch, and Shen Yuan takes a moment to pet the top of his head for a moment before saying anything else, hoping to get Luo Binghe to relax again. 

Ah, I really did mean to try and keep you safe, Shen Yuan thinks to himself, feeling regretful. He’d come to Cang Qiong with the intention of finding Luo Binghe early, after all, and had worked as hard as he had in order to be ready for Luo Binghe when he came.

But then he had worked too hard, and Shen Qingqiu had promoted him to head disciple, and suddenly Shen Yuan thought he might go insane if he wasn’t able to get off Qing Jing Peak and stay off for as long as he could possibly get away with, and - 

How stupid of him. Luo Binghe must have been taken in during the disciple selection the very same year that Shen Yuan had taken off on his extended field trip. How very, very stupid of Shen Yuan, to think that things wouldn’t go upside down the second he looked away - this is Luo Binghe’s story, after all, and it’s always been a bit of a tragedy.

“Then this Shixiong can only apologize to you,” Shen Yuan says softly, with perhaps just a bit too much sincerity. “And in the future, if you’re given this sort of work again, I’ll chop wood in your place.”

Under his hand, Luo Binghe peers up at Shen Yuan with wide, hungry eyes. Shen Yuan gives him a final pat before withdrawing his hand, and plasters his friendly smile back on his face. 

“Now, why don’t you get cleaned up, hm? I’ll meet you again later - this Shixiong of yours still needs to report back to Shizun that I’ve returned from my trip.”

Luo Binghe nods, still watching Shen Yuan with an intensity that would feel more at home on an emperor than a scrawny 15 year old, and Shen Yuan beats a hasty retreat.

Despite all the pretty promises he made to Luo Binghe, he’s going to have to think of something clever to actually be able to fulfill them.

After all, not even all of his meta knowledge combined would be able to save Shen Yuan from his Shizun.

---

Shen Yuan has been pacing outside Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house for ten minutes now. Nothing he can think of is good enough to convince someone as petty and stubborn as Shen Qingqiu. 

Once, at the start of his time on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Yuan had tied his disciple robes wrong, unused to wearing anything quite so complex. Shen Qingqiu had sneered at his mistake in the moment, and then for every major event in the next five years straight he’d made a point to comment snidely on how well Shen Yuan has managed to dress himself.

That’s the sort of mean streak this man has!! If he doesn’t like something, he’ll keep harping on that one thing for years, even after that thing isn’t around to bother him anymore! How is Shen Yuan supposed to coax Luo Binghe out of the jaws of a man like that?

Ah, forget it, forget it! Shen Yuan would just - he’d come back another day! Greeting Shen Qingqiu wasn’t really necessary, Shen Yuan could just -

“I was under the impression that Shen Yuan was a head disciple returning from field work, not a child trying to avoid bedtime.”

Shen Yuan whips around, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end like a spooked cat. There, kneeling elegantly on his front porch not ten meters from Shen Yuan, is Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun!” Shen Yuan cries, trying to force his grimace into a nice, polite smile. “When did - I mean - this disciple means -”

Shen Qingqiu closes his fan with a harsh snap, and Shen Yuan shuts his mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

“Well?” Shen Qingqiu asks dryly, and Shen Yuan hurriedly drops into a bow. 

“This disciple greets Shizun!” Shen Yuan shouts, his ears burning with embarrassment. 

Shen Qingqiu hums, and Shen Yuan risks peeking out from his bow to look at him. 

He does not look especially pleased.

With all the elegance of a wild cat, Shen Qingqiu unfolds himself from his kneeling position on the porch and glides over to Shen Yuan. 

“Too low,” he says, slapping at Shen Yuan’s wrists with his fan. “Or was Shen Yuan hoping there would be a replacement head disciple waiting for him by the time he came back from his trip?”

“Ahahaha,” Shen Yuan wheezes, carefully correcting himself into a bow of a slightly higher ranked disciple than the one he’d originally slipped into. “Of course this disciple is honored by the position and very very grateful for Shizun’s benevolence in leaving it to him even during his absence…”

“What advice does Shen Yuan think his Shizun has for him?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply, and Shen Yuan winces.

“‘Talk less,’ Shizun,” he recites dutifully. It is advice that Shen Qingqiu has given him many, many times.

Shen Qingqiu sniffs haughtily and walks a slow circle around Shen Yuan, inspecting him. Shen Yuan tries not to sweat too profusely. He really had been hoping that Shen Qingqiu may have forgotten about Shen Yuan in his years away, ah!

Finally, Shen Qingqiu completes his inspection, stopping once more in front of Shen Yuan. 

“What sort of pathetic creature has Shen Yuan carved the bones of to make his hairpiece?” He asks, using his fan to prod at Shen Yuan’s hairpin.

“A Hundred Year Crystal Tortoise, Shizun,” Shen Yuan answers.

“And the leather of your belt?”

“A Golden-Footed Acidic Bear, Shizun.”

“And did you even bother to remove the -”

“- the needle hairs beneath the Bear’s skin before treating the pelt,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “How bold you’ve gotten, interrupting your Shizun.”

“...Sorry, Shizun,” Shen Yuan mumbles, deflating a bit.

“Still,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, and Shen Yuan peeks back up at him again. “You did decent enough, I suppose.”

Shen Yuan perks up, half-standing up out of his bow. “Thanking Shizun -!”

Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “If Shen Yuan’s trip had been only a single year, instead of nearly four!”

Shen Yuan very quickly gets back into the proper deferential position. 

“Fleeing so quickly after being promoted, only to stay away for this long - I hope Shen Yuan is comfortable sleeping on the ground, because I’ve long since given up keeping the side room in my house for an absent head disciple. I filled it with cursed artifacts and dusty books two years ago.”

“Shizun -!” Shen Yuan protests, starting to stand up again. He’d liked that little room, damn it! It was the one decent part of being promoted to head disciple in the first place, even if it meant sharing a roof with this asshole!!

Shen Qingqiu whacks him again, and Shen Yuan obediently shuts up.

“Foolish boy,” he scolds, before promptly turning on his heel to stalk back to the bamboo house. “Hurry up, then,” he calls behind him, “I want to see if you still make tea as dreadfully as you did before.”

Shen Yuan makes a face at Shen Qingqiu’s back. Without looking behind him, Shen Qingqiu uses his qi to send a single leaf flying to Shen Yuan’s head, slapping him on the forehead right over where Shen Yuan’s brows had bunched together.

Shen Yuan smooths his face out into a perfectly polite smile once more. This asshole, he curses inwardly, he really is scum!! The lowest of the low!! A bully!!!

“Tea, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu calls once more, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch up.

---

Later, after Shen Yuan has dutifully given a retelling of his adventures over the last few years, and after Shen Qingqiu has grilled him on every mistake he made and how stupid that was of him and how shitty his tea still tastes, Shen Yuan finally manages to bring up Luo Binghe.

“This disciple met someone new this morning,” he says, pouring Shen Qingqiu more of his apparently awful tea. 

“Was Shen Yuan sure they were new? Perhaps it’s been so many years your brain has started to forget the faces of the idiots here in favor of whatever foolish beasts you’ve been studying.”

“Someone new,” Shen Yuan confirms, pretending to ignore Shen Qingqiu’s very pointed glare. “He was a disciple even younger than Ning-shimei, and you only picked her out the year before I left.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and all of a sudden Shen Yuan thinks that perhaps his Shizun has never been truly irritated with him in the past, because this expression is far more acidic than anything Shen Yuan has seen before.

“A-ah…?” Shen Yuan says, stupidly.

Shen Jiu sets his cup down with a harsh clink. “Shen Yuan should ignore that little beast. He won’t bring you any good news.”

“Shizun, this disciple likes beasts best,” Shen Yuan says. “Is he so bad?”

“Ignore him,” Shen Qingqiu repeats frostily. 

Shen Yuan swallows. This… there’s no way that he’ll be able to convince Shen Qingqiu to give Luo Binghe an honest shot in this one conversation. He can’t bet on being able to eventually wear him down, though, either - even if he does eventually convince him, if it takes a year to do it, that’s also not any good. Shen Yuan needs to be able to help Luo Binghe now.

Okay. This is fine. Shen Yuan has - he has so many very good ideas, all of them very well thought out and full of strategic benefits. He can use any one of these very good and smart ideas.

“I understand, Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, “That beast won’t be a shidi of mine, then.”

“Good, now -”

“But what about as a pet?”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him. Shen Yuan stares back.

“A pet,” Shen Qingqiu repeats. 

“A pet,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Shizun, I already said that I like beasts best - if I can’t raise Luo Binghe to be my shidi, can’t I raise him as my pet instead?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Beasts aren’t for keeping.”

“Sometimes they are - Cang Qiong has a whole peak dedicated to such a thing,” Shen Yuan points out. Shen Qingqiu’s scowl grows more fierce. 

“Qing Jing is above such dirty work,” he spits.

Shen Yuan swallows again, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. He’s already started down this path; he may as well place all his bets on making it through.

“Then perhaps Qing Jing is not for this disciple after all,” Shen Yuan says, trying to keep his voice steady. It still comes out a bit reedy, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t crack over the words. 

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. “Speak plainly - Shen Yuan has already spent several years neglecting his duties. How much farther do you intend to stray?”

“Shizun so graciously held the position of head disciple open for this one,” Shen Yuan hedges. “On that topic, isn’t it possible for head disciples to choose to spend a decade or so on a different peak of their choice, to encourage diversity in education and cross-peak relationships before the head disciple becomes beholden to their peak as a lord? Perhaps I could take in a pet on a different peak, with such a method.”

“That’s a custom reserved for older disciples,” Shen Qingqiu spits, “intended to benefit them in the years directly leading up to their ascension as a peak lord, not when the head disciple is just a little whelp with a century ahead of them before they can wear a lord’s crown.”

“No such rule is written anywhere, Shizun.”

“Then I’ll write it,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “Shen Yuan, you’ve had your fun these past years - now you are to stay on this peak.”

“Then I want a pet,” Shen Yuan says, tilting his head up defiantly. “It’ll benefit Shizun, too: you won’t have to feed or clothe him anymore, nor train him to be a cultivator.”

Not that you were doing any of those things for Luo Binghe before, ah!! Shen Yuan thinks, trying to focus on that feeling of indignation. If he just thinks about that - about the horror of coming across Luo Binghe in that clearing earlier, too scrawny to be 15 and yet wary enough of the world he may as well have been an adult - then Shen Yuan can hold his ground. 

If he just thinks about Luo Binghe as a neglected kid, and he just thinks of Shen Qingqiu as that child’s abuser -

If he just thinks about that, then Shen Yuan can meet the eyes of the man who has taught him and promoted him and housed him in the side room of his house, and he can demand this one thing.

“With what funds would Shen Yuan be able to feed and clothe his pet?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. “With what free time would he train him not to bite?”

“This one is the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Shen Yuan says. “If a head disciple couldn’t manage that much, they certainly couldn’t deserve to ascend as a peak lord in the future.”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, unfurling his fan and raising it high up his face until only his eyes peered out the top of it, watching Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s hands twist in his lap, but he keeps his gaze steady.

“A head disciple does not run away from the position,” Shen Qingqiu says. 

“Nor does a master run off from their pet,” Shen Yuan agrees.

There’s another moment of quiet as they both watch each other. When Shen Qingqiu speaks again, his voice is firm, like someone reciting basic peak rules and not the terms of the most batshit insane agreement Shen Yuan has ever brokered.

“You will stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “and you will accept the head discipleship position without fuss.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“No more trips. No more pretending to forget to introduce yourself as my head disciple. No more pushing your pathetic disciple brothers at me with paperwork that you clearly filled out in some sort of foolish scheme to have me consider them over you.”

Shen Yuan winces. “Yes, Shizun.”

“You will not receive any additional allowance, for any reason, outside of the funds normally provided to a head disciple. Any pests you pick up will not sleep in my house, nor will you be allowed to request room in the dormitories for any such creature. Those resources are for disciples, not beasts.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe can’t sleep in the rundown woodshed forever, and he wants to protest the idea that the dorms are for disciples, as if Luo Binghe was ever allowed in there in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu taps one finger on the table. “Answer, Shen Yuan.”

“This disciple agrees under one condition,” Shen Yuan says. “Using his personal funds, this disciple would like to request permission to make moderate renovations to a peak structure in order to improve the quality of kept wood.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Disciple Shen Yuan’s personal funds will be drained by feeding an animal - you will not be able to afford the standards that Qing Jing exacts for renovation projects.”

“This disciple has been collecting favors from An Ding. They will be repaid, and this disciple will be able to afford the project.”

“Shen Yuan had best not be caught collecting any such favors forcibly,” Shen Qingqiu warns, which is very distinctly a ‘don’t get caught blackmailing people’ warning and not a blanket ‘don’t blackmail people’ one.

“Of course,” Shen Yuan agrees. “This one is the personal disciple of Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu - how could I get caught in such a way?”

Read: you’ve made sure I understand how to not get caught when doing something shady, at the very least!!

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan once, twice - he’s irritated, but doesn’t necessarily disagree.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Permission for a renovation to that ugly woodshed is granted. And Shen Yuan’s answer to all other stipulations?”

“This disciple agrees.”

Shen Qingqiu slaps his fan closed in one palm. “Then Shen Yuan is allowed a pet. I won’t interfere further.”

Shen Yuan nods. He expected as much; Shen Qingqiu won’t egg on any further bullying, nor will he stop Shen Yuan from taking any measures he pleases when it comes to Luo Binghe, but he won’t help Shen Yuan dissuade the current bullying.

That’s fine - already, this is enough to help Luo Binghe.

“Thanking Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, bowing his head slightly. “This disciple will not disappoint.”

After all, how hard could raising the protagonist be? This world revolves around Luo Binghe; all Shen Yuan needs to do is make Luo Binghe’s everyday life a bit less miserable, give him just one person he can trust. Luo Binghe will manage the rest himself, by nature of being who he is - what he is. 

Yes, this - this is the best way.

---

Outside the bamboo house, crouched beneath a window so still his muscles ache and his head feels woozy from how shallow he’s kept his breathing, Luo Binghe listens to his Shizun and Shixiong move on to discuss cleaning out the side room now that Shen Yuan has returned to the peak.

A pet, he thinks, his eyes blown wide, his fingers digging deep into the ground beneath his knees. He can feel dirt caking the underside of his fingernails, and the scars he leaves in the ground are very much like an animal, indeed.

A pet, he thinks again, over and over on loop in his mind, his pretty Shixiong’s voice fading to background noise. He thinks of Shen Yuan gently patting his head like one might coax a dog, and he thinks -

Yes, a pet.