#if there are any typos i apologize! (^^;)

[nonetoon]

Late night art inspiration comic 🤔 💭

[kyu-piddy]

New Year’s Kiss

An: Happy new year everyone! Exams are kicking my butt, so I haven’t been able to write much. Even so, here’s a little something to celebrate the beginning of 2025!

Gn reader x nrc students (minus Ortho)

Words: 5.3k words

Tw: None

The clock strikes midnight, the new year commences, and the man you secretly love stands in front of you.

Eyes locked and heart in your mouth, seconds pass in silence…

Ace

Ace’s mouth quirks into a little smirk.

“I know you’re just dying to kiss me, Prefect.”

His jeering tone is contrasted by the heat climbing up from his neck to his cheeks, hand on the back of his head.

“Maybe you’re the one dying to kiss me, Ace.”

His false confidence crumbles, his gaze faltering to the ground.

“Maybe… Just maybe, I do.”

The festivities around you continue, but time stands still as you take a step forward, so uncertain in your certainty.

As your faces are merely inches from each other, you stop, sudden shame coloring your mind.

Before you can put much more thought into it, Ace leans forward and steals a kiss.

Soft and brief, he quickly pulls away, turning his head around just as quickly.

“The others are probably looking for us. Let’s go.”

He starts walking fast, bashfulness leading his feet, but passion leading his heart, and hand, to yours.

Deuce

Deuce seems momentarily lost, briefly fleeting from confused to bashful, before setting into a serious expression, resolute on whatever his mind has decided.

“Prefect, there’s this new years tradition I’d really like to try.”

His practiced speech stops midway, loosing himself in your inquisite eyes.

Murmuring something to himself, he throws himself forward, grabbing your hands with his, a violently soft prayer of acceptance.

“I really want to kiss you!”

You blink stupidly back at him.

He takes a step back, a dejected look on his face.

“Only if you want to, of course. I’d never want to force you.”

Grabbing his tie, you shut him up with a kiss.

He freezes, insecurities of a first kiss clouding his judgement, but slowly and surely melts into it.

Cater

“Happy new year! Since I found you first, you have to give me a big ol smooch.”

You roll your eyes, but nevertheless lean into his face, landing a soft kiss on his plush cheek, small specks of glitter reflecting the low lights of the room.

“Happy now?” you ask, a small smile on your face not reflected in your heart.

Cater puts on a pondering face, finger tapping on his chin, pensative gaze staring straight through you.

“Uhmm… Not really, no.”

He chirps, and his airy smile drops, replaced by a surprisingly serious look.

“I want a real kiss,___.”

“Cater, don’t play around! I swear, it’s too early in the year for a magicam challenge.”

You playfully slap his arm, a chance for him to grab it and pull you close, his other arm resting on your lower waist.

“I don’t always play around, you know?”

Releasing your arm, he leads his hand to the back of your head.

The sparkles on his cheeks are the last thing you see before you’re engulfed in a fiery kiss, one that you’ll remember forever.

Trey

“The mess after this party is going to be immense. I pity whoever will have to clean it.”

“Thankfully it isn’t us! I can already imagine the hours it would take to clean the stains of that carpet.”

Trey is extremely good at small talk, and soon enough the moment dissolves like morning dew.

You can’t help but pity it, cursing your own innactiveness.

Warm eyes inspect you without you noticing, critical but not antagonizing, waiting for an opening.

Then, something clicks.

“Prefect, I think I saw something in your teeth.”

“What!” You let out a gasp of embarrassment, hand shooting up to hide your momentary blemish.

“Now, let me see.”

He moves close to your face, slowly unpeeling your hand of your face.

“Open your mouth, please.”

He orders politely, not leaving you any choice.

You comply, his hand on your chin, and after a quick inspection, Trey speaks up.

“It seems I was mistaken. Apologies, Prefect.”

You close your mouth, but before you can thank him something warm graces your lips.

Bashfully, you close your eyes, his lips on yours like heaven.

His tongue slithers between your lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, memorizing them.

Treys warm lips leave yours, a cheeky grin replacing his former expression.

“Now I’m completely sure there’s nothing there. Thank you for collaborating.”

You give him an annoyed look and he merely chuckles in response.

Riddle

“Riddle, did you know there’s a New Years tradition of kissing someone at midnight?”

You ask, breaching the silence.

“I have heard of it. Mother always said it was a glorified disease spreader.”

He answers matter of factly, and you feel yourself deflating.

“Is that so.”

More silence. You shuffle your feet around, unsure on how to proceed.

As the seconds pass by, midnight and one minute inches closer.

“Please do not participate in such an activity, Prefect.”

You feel exasperation boiling over, like a petulant child being told by their parents what not to do.

“Why not, Riddle?! If you don’t want to, why shouldn’t I go find someone who wants!”

Riddles eyes widen, his face exploding in a fiery red color.

He clears his throat, doing his best to look you in the eye.

“You’re right, Prefect. I can’t tell you what to do. I just… I wouldn’t want you to do such a thing with someone else because I want to be the one that you… that you kiss.”

An exasperated plea, love and desperation coating his unsure voice.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, thump thumping louder each time.

“Would you do the honor of letting me kiss you?”

Riddle asks, a wish and a request all at once.

“There’s no else I’d rather do it with.”

Even if midnight had already passed, Riddle and you still shared a New Years kiss, tinted with the flavor of strawberries.

Jack

“Prefect, you’re hurt.”

You looked down at your ankle, a bitter red pulsating under the supple skin.

“It’s fine. I think I just tripped earlier. Don’t worry about it.”

You smile at him winningly, but his worries are not soothed by your words.

Your feet are pulled out of the ground, a small gasp escaping your lips, as Jack picks you up.

He carries you to a small room and sits you down on a chair, unbothered by your flustered opinion.

“There’s a first aid kit here. Take off your shoe and give me your foot.”

You comply, even as redness creeps up and stains your feautures.

Jack starts applying some sort of cold cream, and then fixes you up with bandages, his hands unexpectedly tender despite their rough exterior.

“Thank you, Jack. I feel much better.”

“Good.”

He answers almost disinterestedly, his soft smile letting his true feelings shine.

“Sorry for making you miss the best part of new years.”

Your voice fails you as your mind scrambles to find the right words.

“I want to make it up to you.”

Slowly, very slowly, you approach his face, gauging his expression.

It remains painfully unmoving, but his tail waggers behind him, giving you all the confidence you need.

Lips on lips, gently like a flowers touch, you don’t let yourself get too carried away.

“We should probably go back.”

You comment.

He nods his head, a dust of pink gracing his cheeks, as he once again swoops you off the ground, his tail wagging the only assurance you need.

Ruggie

You feel your pocket rustling as Ruggie walks past you, too quick for you to catch up to him.

Rummaging through said pocket, you find your phone missing.

“Ruggie, come back!”

Perusing the room with your eyes like a detective inspecting the scene of a crime, you spot his tail peeking from behind a door.

Running as best as you can through the crowd of intermingling bodies, you reach the door and quickly slip in.

The room you slip into is empty and slightly dusty, unknown to the partygoers.

“Ruggie, where are you?! I saw you come here.”

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, warm and soft palms blocking your line of sight and reason.

“Caught ya. Shishishi.”

He laughs lightly near your ear, the baby hairs on your neck standing on edge.

“Can I have my phone back now?”

He laughs again.

“You can. But I have a price.”

His hands slid away from your eyes, and you turned around to him.

“Close your eyes, and you’ll get your phone back.”

Cheeks flaring up, you complied.

But instead of the cold metal of the phone sliding into your pocket, you felt the warm breath of the one you had long pinned for against your face.

And in no time at all, his lips on yours.

Leona

Leona’s languid gaze swept through your body, resting upon your face in the end, a lazy smirk pulling at the edge of his lips.

“Isn’t there something you should be doing, herbivore?”

“Getting more fruit punch? I definitely should be doing that.”

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

His words made butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart skip a beat, but your face remained calm and composed.

You would make him break first in this long lasting dance of yours.

Suddenly, he got close. Much too close, as your back hit the wall, one of his arms caging you in.

“Little herbivore, you can keep running and hiding, but sooner or later you’ll have to give in.”

You mulled over his words, a coy look decorating your face, innocence disguising your true intentions.

“If you’re not going to stop me, why should I? Maybe if I ask Malleus-”

Your words were cut off by his mouth on yours, a ferocious and heated kiss, his taste and smell invading your senses until you could no longer remember anything else.

“Are you going to ask that stupid lizard now?” he breathed out in bettwen kisses.

“Never.” you answered, pulling him closer by his collar.

Azul

“Ah, dear Prefect. Are you enjoying the Mostro Lounge new year party?”

He curtsied you with his hat, a perfect old timey gentleman.

“Indeed, I am. I wonder how this party has all my favourites coicidentally. Favorite beverage, favorite food, even my favourite color is part of the main decorations.”

You made sure to give him a significant look, his gaze unfaltering under your scrutiny.

“What interesting coincidences, aren’t they?”

His smile never faltered, ever so politely fake.

“Our vip lounge has some extra festivities that could be to your interest. Perhaps could I escort you there?”

“No, thank you. I’d rather go back to my friends.”

His smile fell momentarily, a shocked look on his face quickly covered by his suave persona.

“But I insist, Prefect.”

“And I insist on no. I have to go.”

Making your way through the room, you counted down from five in your head.

As it reached one, the twins appeared in the corner of your eye, turning into a makeshift wall, stopping you in your tracks.

“Heyaaaa, Shrympy. You have to go back to Azul, or he’ll surely blow a fuse.”

“That’s right, our esteemed guest. Our dear Azul is waiting for you.”

“Then tell him to come get me himself.”

The twins look at each other before swiftly dispersing.

In seconds, Azul appears, looking slightly frazzled.

“So dear Azul, did I ruin your perfect plan for new years? Let me guess, you wanted to take me to the vip lounge, butter me up, and then kiss me?”

Undeciferable emotions pass through his eyes like a carrousel as you simply smile at him mischievously.

His mouth moved, something about to be said, but you didn’t let him, kissing him before a sound could be uttered, and breaking away even faster, quickly shuffling away to the table where your friends sat, but not before saying one last thing.

“Happy new year, Azul. Let’s hope next year you can kiss me for a change.”

Jade

“Jade, there’s a strange mushroom in my glass.”

Jade smiled widely at you, eyes closed and hands politely folded.

“Is it so, now? May I see it?”

Handing him your cup, he observed the floating little fungi.

“Oh, dear. I’m not quite sure, but if this mushroom is the one I believe it is, it isn’t toxic per say, but it has serious side effects, such as vomiting and rashes.”

You raised one of your brows at him, his impassive face unfaltering.

“How could such a mushroom end up in the drink of a client at a restaurant? Seems very unlikely.”

“Unlikely but not impossible. Certain students of this school are known for their mischievous streak. But for now, what matters most is helping our esteemed customer.”

“And how can you help me?”

His eyes opened, he stared at you with his menacing smile, teeth barred for all to see.

“Thankfully, it is very simple. The victim of the mushroom must simply have the toxin extracted from the zone in the body where it went into contact with.”

“Right. And how do you do that?”

“A simple suction motion can do the trick.”

“Really, now? Then in other words I have to ask someone to suck on my lips?”

“If it is the mushroom with those side effects, yes. It could also be a completely normal mushroom.”

You felt like rolling your eyes at him, his obvious stunt endearingly annoying.

“Okay. Then suck it out of my lips.”

Your direct answer didn’t seem to faze him as he leaned into you, slightly sucking on your lips.

Heat crept up to your face, his lips becoming warmer and warmer against yours.

“Uhmm, I’m not quite sure if it is that mushroom after all. Maybe it’s another one. I’ll have to test it to be sure.”

You went to grab your cup again to show him the mushroom again, but he held your cheeks with his hand and kissed you, properly, this time.

His tongue licked the bottom of your lips, and finding your teeth pliant, delved deeper, tasting all it could.

As he pulled back, you asked him.

“What mushroom is it after all?”

“Just a normal mushroom used for cooking.”

With a little smirk, he answered, and leaned again to kiss you.

Floyd

“Shrimpy, Shrimpy, if you don’t kiss me right now I’m going to squeeze your dumb friends reallll hard.”

Floyd’s burning gaze flustered you harder than any of his words, leaving your brain to catch up to your ears.

“You are not doing that! And I am not kissing you under a threat!”

You argued back at him, watching his face turn from a pearly white grin to pouty.

“Come on, Shrimpyyyyy. It’s a tradition on land to kiss someone on new years and I wanna do it.”

“Then go do it with someone else.”

You replied, cheeks flaming at the idea, but to proud to go back on your words.

His pout deepened, and he raised his arms.

“You’re so cruel. I don’t want to kiss anyone else! I want to kiss you, ___.”

The sentence starts airy and whiny, childlike even, but ends with a poignant seriousness that makes your eyes meet his.

“Kiss me. And only me.”

He orders, hand on your shoulder.

You furrow your brows at him.

“Only if you ask politely.”

He ponders your words, but does not heed them, leaning into you and stealing a chaste kiss before running away.

“Hey! Get back here!”

You run after him, but his gigantic legs and lanky build let him get away, as he shouts in a sing-songy voice.

“Shrimpys kiss is mine!”

Kalim

“So I was there, in my potions class, and then this frog flew into my cauldron and-”

You sighed, Kalim’s mouth running wild as he kept telling you stories of his day to day.

Normally, you’d enjoy his jovial and light conversation, but right now you expected a little bit more.

“Oh gosh, look at the time! It’s past midnight!” He comments excitedly.

“The fireworks are starting right about now! Let’s go, Prefect!”

On the balcony of Kalims room, you stand side by side observing the fire works, their light illuminating the night sky and reflecting in your eyes.

You shyly try to take his hand, but he is to busy gesticulating them around, pointing to each image produced by the fireworks with such wonder as if he had never seen them.

As the show draws to a close, he finally turns fully to you, eyes filled with happiness and a desire to please.

“Did you enjoy it? Don’t you think it was just the most amazing firework show you have ever seen!”

You smiled at him, but no answer could be given, as the carpet beneath you both flew from underneath you, sending you both crashing down onto the ground.

Something soft hit your lips, and you opened your eyes to Kalims lips on yours.

He quickly leaned back, red covering his face.

“Oh my… that was nice, wasn’t it?”

“I think so too.”

You answered, still a bit dazed, the full brunt of the embarrassment not yet settled in.

“Can I do it again?”

Your eyes widened at his direct request, heart flying out of your chest.

“You can.”

Beneath the star lit sky, you kissed as many times as the stars would let you.

Jamil

“Are you still busy with Kalim?”

You asked, crossing your fingers in hope that Jamil could be yours, even if for just a minute.

“I’m afraid so. Kalim wanted to try a new drink, so I had to go prepare it.”

He gestured to the tray in his hand with his head, face umbetraying of any emotion.

Your own wasn’t so lucky, as you visibly deflated.

“Sorry to bother you then. I’ll go back to the refreshments table.”

Giving him a small smile, you started walking away.

His hand reached out, softly gripping yours.

“Give me a minute.”

You nodded, and watched as his back disappeared into the crow.

The sound of fireworks could be heard all around, overpowering any other noise, all the guests surrounding the windows and filling the balconies in hope of catching the best view, while you waited in the back.

As minutes ticked by, your hope depleted and your frown returned.

But your smile blossomed as you saw Jamil returning.

“I apologize for making you wait. Kalim wanted some more pillows.”

You held his hands on your own, softly brushing your thumb against the back.

“It’s fine. As long as I can steal you for just a bit.”

Silence reined bettwen you both, as the fire works raged on.

Soft gazes and tender hearts, you leaned closer and so did he, and sooner rather than later the silence was filled with a kiss.

Vil

“Dear, your makeup is smudged.”

Your eyes widened, searching for the nearest mirror.

“Where?! I swear, it must have been Ace with his stupid prank! I’m going to kill him!”

Taking a hand mirror out of his bag, Vil held it out for you to use.

“Thank you so much. I completely forgot mine!”

Seating on a random chair nearby, you started reapplying your eyeliner.

Vil watched you from the back, his reflection in the pocket mirror, even though small, imposing.

“I see you used the makeup I recommended. You sure do look splendid, my dear.”

“A compliment from you, Vil? My, I feel touched!”

You jested, a small laugh escaping the man behind you.

“I sure hope you do. I don’t hand out compliments that easily. Only to those who deserve it.”

His reflection in the mirror gets bigger as he keeps approaching you from the back, strands of blond hair draping over your shoulder.

“Turn to me. Let me help you with your lipstick.”

Face turned to the side, he felt even closer, amethyst eyes piercing through you and your makeup.

“Such a beautiful shade, isn’t it?”

“I think so too. And it barely stains, too!”

“I know, dear. But sometimes products are a little faulty and should be tested.”

His lips meet yours before you can even understand what’s going on.

Soft and fragrant, he moves away much too quickly, your head following his, even though you’re not connected anymore.

He laughs softly, a delicate and musical sound.

“So? Did it stain?”

You basfully inspect his lips, his makeup as pristine as if freshly put on.

“No. I don’t think so, at least.”

“Then shall we test it again? Any good products mustn’t be tested just once.”

“Of course.”

Your face flushes at his proposition, betraying you amd your willingness.

Vil doesn’t seem to mind, leaning down again and stealing another chaste kiss, and then another, and then another, until you can draw the shape of his lips with your heart.

Rook

“Ah, my little trickster! Enjoying the nouvel an? It’s a truly joyous ocassion!”

You smiled at Rook’s dramatics, deciding to humor him.

“And why is it so joyous?”

A mysterious glint lit up his eyes, mischievously charming.

“There’s this little traditión that certain people partake in during this occasion. A new years kiss. Have you heard of it?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Who knows?”

You smile at him, mischievously coy, playing around with your drink like one who isn’t quite sure how to answer.

“My little trickster, how you tempt me so.”

Using his thumb and pointer, he takes a hold of your chin, delicately possessive of a prize that is not yet his.

“This temptation you have laid upon me, won’t you help me satiate it? Let this curiosity of mine rest?”

Your heart beats rapidly, bravado gone as your gaze was forced to battle with his, an evergreen intensity that made you crumble.

“Since it’s also a curiosity of mine… I’ll let you.”

His mischievous smile widened, and with unexpected ferociousness, locked his lips with yours.

His hot mouth felt like a burning inferno, burning you up from the inside and leaving you wanting for more, needing him more.

As you tried to deepen the kiss, he leaned back, perching a finger on your lips.

“Not now, my ___. Let’s wait a little while longer, shall we?”

Epel

Epel shuffled awkwardly in front of you, his fancy clothing clashing with his dour expression.

“What’s up, dude? You look way too sour. Did Vil make you wear that fancy suit?”

“Yeah. I look like some sorta fancy pastry with too much frostin’.”

You giggled at his words, shaking your head.

“I think you look rather nice. But you can always shed the tie if it’s really bothering you.”

“That’s a darn fine idea.”

He quickly shoves the tie down his pocket, visibly relaxing.

“Better?”

“Couldn’t be better. I can finally move freely! Thanks! I owe ya one.”

He moves away, as if to go back to the dancefloor but turns back and runs towards you.

“To hell with it!” you hear him mutter, before bashing his lips onto yours, pure drive behind his every move.

He pulls back, eyes wide and breathing erratically, surprise by actions of his own doing.

“You’re redder than an apple.” he comments, still looking bewildered.

“So are you.”

“Guess we matchin’ then.”

He smiles, all teeth and small dimples, and you smile back.

Idia

The beeps and boops of Idia’s phone were the only noises made from either of you, the tall man hunched over on the floor, back to the wall, like a child hiding from his parents.

“Aren’t you going to go celebrate the new years with everyone?”

Without taking his gaze from the screen he answers matter of factly.

“Nah. Gotta grind for the new years event. Gachas can totally bs with their event requirements.”

“Okay then.”

You kept your back to the wall, staring into the crowd up ahead, a pang of sadness weighting you down.

“Big Brother!” chirped a happy voice.

“And Prefect! Happy new year!”

Ortho beamed happily, circling you both excitedly like a little rabbit jumping around.

“Big brother, have you given ___ the kiss of new years yet?”

Idia’s fingers stop for the first time in the night, a red game over flashing on his screen.

“New years kiss?” you ask gently.

“Yes, Prefect. Big brother said it’s a quintessential part of any romance anime that has a new years episode! The epitome of end of season drama. So, has big brother kissed you yet?”

Said big brother is slowly slipping further and further down, glueing himself to the floor, fiery pink hair licking at your feet.

“Not yet, Ortho. But don’t worry about it. I’ll help him with it, ok?”

Ortho nodded and merrily skipped away, leaving you with his distraught older brother.

Crouching down, you got your face in front of his, his eyes closed shut.

“Am I getting my kiss now?”

He groaned loudly, slightly opening one eye to peek at you.

“This is not fair. You know my weak point. It’s cheating!”

You giggled at his conundrum, bending down to close the final space left bettwen you two, giving him a little peck on the lips.

“Next year, you give me the new years kiss alright?”

Groaning, he turned to the side and curled into a ball, slowly nodding his head.

Malleus

“I finally found you, Tsunotaoru!”

The tall fae stood in the middle of a lonely balcony, his only companion the smiling moon.

“Child of man. You have come to visit me?”

He asked, joy and sadness laced onto every word.

“Of course I have. It’s new years after all. And no one likes to spend new years alone.”

“That I do believe to be true. Sadly, there are too many years and not enough people to spend them with.”

Malleus longingly observed the moon, heavy fog of uneasiness seeping through the balcony.

You approached him, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

“One day, only that moon will still be here with me. And even she mocks my plight, smiling radiantly upon any who walk below her.”

Stroaking his arm gently, you spoke softly, barely above a whisper.

“Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps one day, when the moon is the only that remains and she smiles at you, you’ll see the smile of everyone who used to smile at her too.”

Finally, he turned to you, holding your hand with a feather like touch.

“I quite like that sentiment, child of man. Even so, at least for tonight, I don’t wish to share with the moon. Tonight, shan’t you be only mine?”

A soft smile bloomed on your lips, your free hand caressing his face.

“Tonight, and forever.”

“Forever.”

His plush lips slotted perfectly onto yours, a warm kiss to truly last forever under the moonlight.

Silver

“Silver, wake up! It’s midnight!”

The silver haired man asleep on your shoulder remained so, the ruckus of the festivities almost like a lullaby to his tired mind.

“Oh, please, Silver!”

You shook him vigorously, and he finally awoke, startled.

“Prefect? Have I fallen asleep again?”

He looks around, in an unbotheredly lost way only someone who is used to falling asleep everywhere can have.

“Yeah, you did. And you missed the new years!”

“That’s fine. Every year there’s a new one. Besides, this year I have a higher priority.”

You raised a brow.

“A… higher priority?”

He nodded assertively.

“Father told me about this “new years kiss” tradition, and as such”- he got down on one knee in front of you, head bowed- “___, would you give me the honor of being my new year’s kiss?”

You stared at him, baffled and more than a bit unsure on how to react.

“Please get of the floor, Silver.”

“Is that a no?”

“I didn’t say that. I… I accept it.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as your almost sworn knight gets up from the floor and takes your hand in his.

“You’re rather beautiful,___.”

Face hot and stomach twirling, you can’t help but look away from his eyes.

“Please just kiss me already.”

“Of course.”

Closing his eyes, he gently presses his lips against yours, before promptly falling asleep on top of you.

You sigh, letting the man rest. Next year you’d get back at him.

Sebek

“HUMAN. HAVE YOU SEEN LORD MALLEUS! I WISH TO BE THE FIRST TO WISH HIM A HAPPY NEW YEAR.”

Sebeks voice boomed in your ear, and you feel the moment slip from your fingers like sand.

Annoyance creeps onto your voice and face, and you can’t help but shout back.

“I DON'T KNOW AND I DON'T CARE! LIKE YOU DON'T SEEM TO CARE ABOUT ANY OTHER PEOPLE! DON'T YOU HAVE FRIENDS TO THINK ABOUT?! OR EVEN… me?”

Anger leaves your voice, and only sadness and solitude remain.

Sebeks shocked face reflects in your eyes, tears welling up and forming a cristaline pool.

“Go find your lord or whatever. I’ll find someone else to spend my new years with.”

You run away from him, hiding in a dimly lit room, tears falling down your cheeks and staining the floor.

Some time passes, and someone knocks on the door before bursting in.

“HUMAN I- I have come to apologize. My behaviour was unbecoming and I’d…”

His whole face was flushed red, as he tried to get his next words out.

He adjusted his posture, standing straight and then bending down, in a perfect 90 degree angle.

“I would thourogly enjoy spending new years with you, if you would like!”

A smile creeps onto your face as you dry your tears with the back of your hand.

“Sebek?”

“YE-Ahem, yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you.

“WHAT?!”

You threw yourself at his arms, letting them surround you and hold you as you bash your lips onto his.

He shyly returns, unsure of what to do.

“Stay with me tonight?”

You ask, unsure.

“As long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

Lilia

“Young ___, enjoying the new year celebration ?”

Hearing him call you “young”, felt like a stab to the heart.

Lilia always seemed to see you as much too young, much to green, to ever see you as more.

“Yeah. I am. What about you?”

He smiled gently, swirling his glass.

“The new year is a time of change, supposedly. Of growth. But an old man like me can’t do much of those things anymore.”

He sipped on his glass, unbothered by the implications of his words.

“That’s not true. No matter your age, you can always change. Hopefully for the better! Besides, you aren’t that old, Lilia.”

A depressed smile decorates his feautures as he turns to you, so different from his mischievous ones you’re used to seeing.

“ What if I told you I was indeed that old, ___? Would you still want to stay here in hopes of a new years kiss? Of a romance with a fool long past his prime?”

Your eyes widen at his serious tone, no bitterness or happiness in it, nothing at all, just truly neutral questions.

Even so, you felt your conviction solidify.

“If the self proclaimed fool past his prime would at least entertain the idea of me actually being in love with him, he could believe me when I say, I want only you.”

A small incredulous laugh escapes the man by your side.

“Perhaps I should entertain that idea.”

“Not perhaps. You really should.”

You stare at him resolutely, his smile morphing into one of his familiar mischievous ones you liked so much.

“If that is the case, first I have to get a taste.”

In the blink of an eye, he had his lips on yours, warm and softly aggressive, his fangs perfurating your lips and leaving tiny dots of red blood behind.

The metallic taste lingered in your mouth even as he retreated.

“You taste rather appetizingly, ___.”

Your blood colors your cheeks as well as your lips, the perpetrator of both fixing a hair of yours behind your ear, blissfully aware of your bashfulness.

[harbours-lighthouse]

this might be very self indulgent, but what about Jason with a reader who has terrible period cramps. like so bad they pass out from the pain. they just go to the toilet and suddenly it gets so bad they tumble to the floor, moaning in pain until their body just gives out. (yes this is me, no i am not okay)

HE WON'T LET ME BREAK APART

— PAIRING: Jason Todd x F!Reader

— SUMMARY: Period cramps are extreme for you, and in the middle of the night, the one thing you need more than a damn painkiller, is your boyfriend.

— AN: Hi, love :) Thank you for sending in your request. I really hope your cramps have eased since you sent this in; mine can get quite brutal too so you're definietly not alone in the experience. Make sure to drink lots of water and get some rest, and a hot water-bottle or shower does wonders. I hope I did this justice, and that you enjoy! Hopefully Jaybird brings you some comfort <3

cw: emi-graphic description of period cramps; mentioning of painkillers (panadol is the same as tylenol); general bodily discomfort (if your cramps are this severe and/or worse, please go to a doctor!) wc: 2.5k

YOU CAN'T BREATHE, and it’s three in the morning. Seated on the edge of your bed, you hug your stomach tightly. The pain is bright and bursting, stabbing through your abdomen with a ferocity that leaves you sucking in sharp breaths. But your lungs feel clenched, as if your body is inwardly bracing for each punch of pain. 

Period cramps aren’t uncommon to you, but this feels different. This feels like someone is thrusting a knife straight through your gut over and over, viciously. 

The thought of getting Panadol briefly strikes you, and you slowly stand on unsteady legs. The gritty wool of the carpet feels rough against your feet, and you shuffle through the inky darkness of your room. 

“Oh, geez…” your hand smacks against the doorframe to your bedroom, your body halfway out into the hallway. The black and white tiles are cold, gleaming under pale light from the singular window at the end of the hallway. 

Sucking in a shattered breath, you squeeze your eyes shut and let the sharpness of the pain fade back into a steady, pulsing ache. You don’t bother turning on the hallway light, knowing that the dull pain in your temple will erupt into a piercing headache. 

Reaching the small, dim bathroom feels like an eternity, your feet sluggish and your eyes bleary. The thought of a warm shower flickers in your mind, and you feel as if your skin is begging for heat, for something to soothe the agony. 

Dropping to your knees in front of the square cabinet beneath the sink, you pull the doors open and hear the hinges squeak in protest. Blinking, you try to make out the shape of the box of Panadol, and just as you do and reach out for it, your abdomen twists violently. 

Gasping, your hand drops to slap against the tiles, and you let out an audible whine, the sound broken inside the cramped bathroom. If it weren’t for the long, rectangular window above the shower, you would have thought the sound made the shower curtains quiver, and not the wisp of wind drifting through a crack in the glass. 

Your breathing feels rushed, erratic as you try to focus on the chill of the floor beneath your palm, the biting edge of the grout lines against your knees. But the ebbing of pain doesn’t come, and instead, a wave of nausea floods over you. 

Scrambling, your hands fly towards the rim of the toilet, fingers shaking as you curl over the porcelain. Bile bubbles in the back of your throat, your stomach churns. Though you’re ready to double over and vomit what little you were able to eat before bed, nothing comes. Frustration burns inside you. 

Tears spring to your eyes, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re angry or because of the pain—perhaps both. Gritting your teeth, it feels as if the pain is compressing down on you, enveloping you in a tight grip that you can’t escape from. You’re so focused on the sting in your throat and the throb in your gut that you don’t hear the window in your living room sliding open, nor the soft thud of boots hitting the bare floors. 

Everything is too hot and too cold at the same time. Your stomach unclenches for a brief, respiteful moment, and you suck in a rattling breath. The corners of your eyes are blurred by warm tears.

“Sweetheart?” 

You shriek, your body jerking and nearly slamming into the side of the bathtub. The rapid movement of your body and the painful flutter of your heart sends your abdomen spasming with hot pain. Your chin dips and your teeth ache, and a croaked whimper escapes past your cracked lips. 

“J-Jason?” 

Heat vibrates from Jason’s body as he crouches beside you in a swift flash of movement, and large, warm hands reach for you before flinching back, unsure if he should touch you. 

“(Name)? What’s wrong?” Jason’s voice is hushed, but there’s a sharp edge to it. Worry bounces inside his chest, his fingers feel suddenly cold. He’s never seen you like this—bent and curled inward like a dying animal, eyes misty as they lift upward and find him. 

You want to feel humiliated, disgusted by the state you’re in and the fact that Jason is seeing you like this—but you can’t. The sight of his blue eyes dark with confusion and concern sends relief surging through you. You hadn’t realised how much you were craving him. How much you needed him. 

“Jay…” the word is choked around another spasm of pain, and your hands shake as you reach for him. Jason doesn’t stop himself this time, and his hands bring you to him. 

“Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong, please—” 

“Cramps,” you gasp out into his shoulder, fingers gripping tightly onto the creases of his leather jacket. He smells like gunpowder and ash, dried blood and soap—your soap. Jason’s eyes flutter closed as he breathes a sigh of relief against your scalp; he hates that you’re hurting, he can’t bear the sight of you in pain, but at least it’s something natural, and not something someone had done to you, or something you had done to yourself.

He can feel you shaking in his hold, and he splays his hand against your back. He can feel the knobs of your spine as he rubs up and down, and even through the thin fabric of your sleep-shirt, he can feel how cold you are.

“You should have called me,” he says quietly, his voice rumbling inside the bathroom. He tightens his hold on you, caging you inside his warmth.

The thought had occurred to you before, to call his burner phone and ask him to come over, but you had buried that thought away just as quickly as it had come. You were not going to tear Jason away from his nightly duty, the work he does out on Gotham’s dirtiest streets. This city needs him, and you’ve handled period cramps like this before.

“Jason,” you push your face into his neck, ignoring his comment, “can you—I’m sorry—can you bring me Panadol?”

Jason glances at the open cabinet, and then the scratched lightswitch on the wall next to the door. For a moment, he thinks to switch on the light in order to find the painkillers, but your strained breathing dashes that thought away. 

Shifting with one arm still curled around you, he stretches his other arm out and fumbles around for the box of Panadol inside the cabinet. It’s hard to find it, the bathroom still dark, but the pale light from the window is enough for him to make out the shape of the box. 

He brings his arm back, snaking it around you, and his hands work at the small of your back, fingers pulling out a foil sheet and pushing two pills out into his gloved palm. 

You bite back another whine as a burst of pain skewers through you, shoulders hunching forward. The urge to cry grows stronger, and you want to bury yourself into Jason, drown in his warmth. 

A finger lightly taps close to your ear, which isn’t the nicest feeling as a headache threatens to cross the line of bearable to down-right splitting. Lifting your head away from the shelter of his neck, you take the gleaming white pills laid out on display in Jason’s palm. Your fingertips graze the thick, tightly-woven fabric of his gloves, and even that radiates heat.

Bracing yourself, you tip your head back and down the pills raw, feeling Jason’s gaze resting heavily on the dark shadows of your face. You mutter a small, ‘thank you’, your voice cutting out and dropping to a whisper. 

Jason’s fingers deftly reach upwards, and brush away the strands of hair that have fallen across your face. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, the gruffness of his voice subdued and gentle, “what else do you need?” 

Jason doesn’t know how to handle this—he’s never been forced into this situation before. But you’re you, and he knows he’ll do anything, you just need to point him in the right direction. 

Inhaling sharply, you feel the dregs of nausea begin to ease away, like dirt disappearing down a drain. Jason’s hands are heavy, warm. The ache in your abdomen throbs, and you want to simply fall into Jason and close your eyes. You want to wake up again when the pain is gone. 

“Just hold me,” you whisper, and Jason’s heart splits open. The desperation in your voice is subtle, but intense. You sound like you’re battling demons and not just agonising cramps. 

The muscles beneath Jason’s jacket flex as he scoops you up, and the jostling of your body has you whimpering softly, though you try to bite back the sound. 

“M’sorry, sweetheart—sorry,” Jason soothes beneath his breath, his large frame moving out of the doorway and down the hall. It’s still dark, not even dawn has reached its pale fingers into the sky yet. You hold onto Jason tighter, not bothering to keep track of where he’s taking you. 

Your body is softly dropped onto the cream cushions of your couch, and for a moment, you feel Jason pull away from you. Your hands shoot out against your will, fingers grasping for purchase on his jacket as your stomach churns. 

“Jason—”

“It’s okay,” Jason reassures, his body pausing in movement. His fingers move to wrap around your wrist, and he can feel your pulse beneath his thumb. It’s erratic, like the violent beating of a bird’s wings. 

“I’m just getting a blanket, okay?” 

You stare at Jason’s face, gaze flickering across his strong features—but it’s his eyes you’re truly studying in the pale light that barely filters into your living room.

“I’ll be back,” he whispers softly, his free hand reaching to the back of your head and pulling you forward lightly. He presses his lips firmly to your forehead, though it’s achingly soft at the same time. You visibly relax, and you let Jason’s touch slip away from you. 

You shift to lay comfortably on the couch, wincing as your abdomen clenches. You can hear Jason’s footsteps along the floorboards, the thud of his boots, and the sound of a cupboard door groaning open. Most of the hinges in your apartment are old, grimey and loud. 

When Jason returns, there’s a bundle of wool in his hands, and you recognise it as the blanket you bought while you were both out shopping in Gotham’s Upper Districts. The colour looks nearly black in the darkness, but you know that it’s a rich green, reminiscent of moss. 

Jason fans the blanket across you, and you thank him quietly. The fabric isn’t warm yet, but it feels soft against your chilled skin.

“Jay?” you crane your neck upward, and Jason’s already moving before you ask him to. Gently nudging you further against the back of the couch, Jason maneuvers himself to slot against you. He’s taken off all of his holsters and guns already, getting rid of any hard ridges that might dig into your skin painfully.

“You wanna try and get some sleep?” Jason asks, voice lowered. You’ve nestled into his side, and you hum with a small nod. 

For a moment, all you can hear is Jason’s breathing, the way each exhalation of air brushes against your temple. His fingertips graze against your arm, the touch fleeting like butterfly wings. You can feel the ache in your abdomen pulse, and you glance down at his hands. Gently, you bring one of them up to you, pinching the fabric between your thumb and pointer finger, and you tug his glove off. Jason doesn’t say anything, though his eyes follow your movements, his brows pulled inward. 

Then realisation dawns on him as you drop his hand against your stomach. Pulling you tighter against him, he dips his hand under your shirt, and presses his palm against your abdomen. His skin is warm, rough. Calluses live under his skin, but the feeling is comforting to you. 

“Feel okay?” Jason asks, and you nod. 

“Yeah. You’re warm.” 

Satisfaction bubbles inside him, and he hums quietly. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, consistent. His arms are caged around you, trapping you in a cocoon of heat. Though pain prickles under your skin, shooting through your abdomen as if something were piercing through your intestines, you let yourself surrender to the feeling of Jason, rather than the ache inside you. 

You hear Jason murmur your name, and you shift just enough to tilt your head up to him, your cheek resting on his breastbone. 

“Hm?”

There’s something hard inside his eyes, like he’s thinking about something troubling—something that hurts. It sends your chest clenching this time, rather than your stomach, and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong, if he’s uncomfortable with helping you like this. 

You’re about to open your mouth and utter some sort of apology, but he beats you to it. 

“Call me next time, okay?” 

There’s nothing in his tone that offers the chance of refusal or protest. His brows pinch forward, the frown lines between them deepened. It dawns on you that you’ve hurt him by not calling, by not reaching for him when you needed his comfort. 

Guilt gnaws against you, and tears spring to your eyes because it all feels like too much. The pain, the shame and humiliation of being seen like this, the guilt that’s flooded through you. It's too much. 

“I’m sorry—”

“No,” Jason cuts you off, his free hand, the one not pressing against your stomach, curls around your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek. The touch sends your skin prickling, your heart jumping. 

“I’m not asking you to be sorry,” he says, “I’m just asking you to call me next time, okay? I—(Name)—I want to help you.” 

The first tear falls, and it’s hot against your skin. It’s not given the chance to linger though, as Jason brushes it away swiftly, as if the sight of you crying personally offends him. 

You feel him bend a little, neck stretched forward to place another sweet kiss against your forehead. That does linger, the warmth of his mouth, and you sink further into him. 

“I promise—” you croak out, “I promise I’ll call you next time.” 

There’s a deep inhale from Jason. His lips then move against your skin, his breath warm. 

“Good.” 

His fingers flex against your stomach, and the room dives into silence. It doesn’t weigh down on either of you, and it’s broken by the inner groans of the apartment, the outside noise of the city—cars cruising down streets, shouts floating along the wind, sirens wailing distantly. 

You don’t fall asleep instantly, nor does Jason. You both lay with your eyes hooded, open and watchful of the shadows that drift across the room, but your skin feels warm, and the pain starts to ebb away as time passes, like a scar softly closing over. 

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

top divider credit: @/saradika-graphics

© harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[batsandbirdbrains]

I want to read this so badly I’m begging someone to write some variation of it pls

The one where Dick isn’t the step-dad, he’s the dad that stepped up

Im fiddling around w the ages because it’s more fun that way. Also it’s in the yj cartoon universe but the timeline will be wonky bc I didnt care for seasons 3&4. So anyway let’s make it post season 2, Dick is 16ish, and like so many of my other yj fic ideas, he’s currently heavily disliked by most JL and yj team members bc of the whole deep cover thing. Also Artemis never went back to be Kaldur’s backup, she refused, so Dick did double time as both Nightwing and Renegade, Deathstroke’s apprentice. He and Bruce had a falling out bc Bruce didn’t like how he didn’t do everything perfectly while Bruce was gone.

So anyway Dick is living in Blüdhaven, his exhausted, he’s not taking very good care of himself, he’s running himself ragged as both Nightwing and also at his day job at a seedy dive bar.

And one night he comes home, ready to face plant on his dusty couch, only to be greeted by his arch nemesis: Talia al Ghul.

He can’t fuckin stand her. The feeling is very mutual.

Talia was very close with Bruce when Dick was younger. Dick was definitely not super jealous at the time. Also definitely didn’t let her words about him not being his real son get under his skin. That never happened.

And now she’s sitting in his couch, looking around and judging his non-existent decor. With a tiny kid next to her.

The tiny kid looks equally disgusted with the apartment. And way too much like Bruce for Dick’s comfort.

“Is this a hallucination or is there actually a succubus sitting in my living room,” Dick manages to say in a bored voice.

“Charming as always, Richard,” Talia says back at him. Before he can reply, she continues with, “I’m here on important business, so please for once drop the attitude with me.”

“And what’s so important you’ve dragged a toddler into my humble abode?”

“Tone,” she snaps at him, and he snorts at her. She’s not his mother, she doesn’t get to lecture him on his snotty attitude with her.

“Look, if you’re looking for Bruce, you’re way off target. We haven’t spoken in months. You’d think you and your little spies would know that.”

“Of course I know that,” she huffs at him. “That’s exactly why I’m here with you. I need you to do something very important for me.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that? Drop dead for ya so your little Bruce clone over there gets all my inheritance? I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear he’s cut me off entirely, so no need to worry.” He sways a bit as he turns around, and he only limps a little bit as he heads to his fridge. Not that there’s anything in there, but maybe if he rummages around and stares at it long enough, food will appear. He doesn’t pull his head out of the fridge before saying in a mocking tone, “You can leave now.”

“I need you to raise Damian.”

Dick stares at the flickering lightbulb in his fridge, the hum of it buzzing between his ears.

“I must finally be completely nuts,” he says, straightening up, hand still on the fridge door, “because I could’a swore I heard you just say you want me raising the love child you must’ve had with the man who kicked me to the curb six months ago.”

“Richard, will you take this seriously please?”

The way her voice sounds almost desperate is what gets Dick to finally turn around.

“Are you serious?” he asks. “You’re being forreal right now?”

“I’m being completely serious,” she tells him. “I don’t want my son anywhere near my father. I want him raised by a good man.”

“So take him to Bruce! What do you need me for?”

“Did you not just admit that Bruce kicked you out?” She said slowly to him. “You, his sixteen year old son-“

“Ward.”

“-who he once used to tell me was the light of his life? He turned on you, just like that. The boy he’d raised for eight years. Richard, you are still a minor-“

“Then why are you asking me to raise your baby?” Dick screeches.

“M’not a baby!”

“Oh my God, it talks!”

“Richard!” Talia is pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks like she’s regretting the decision to come here. Good.

“Richard,” she says again, softer. “Please. You are a better man than Bruce Wayne. You know that.”

“Do I?” he laughs, feeling so out of his league right now. He has no idea what’s happening.

“You’re a smart boy, Richard, I know you’ll figure this out.”

“You’re really leaving your kid with a kid?”

“You’ve graduated high school, haven’t you?” she says, as if that means anything. “Quite the achievement for one your age, considering all your extra curricular activities. Not to mention saving the world from an alien invasion.”

Dick’s face darkens at the mention of it, and for some reason, he doesn’t immediately want to shrug off the hand Talia lays on his shoulder.

“You’re a good man,” she says gently. “You’re bright. You’re resourceful. You will be good for him. Better than anyone else he might be able to go to.”

He’s overwhelmed. He’s still in his Nightwing costume. He’s covered in dried blood and mud. He’s tired.

But now Talia is leaving, and there’s a two year old mini-Bruce sitting on his couch staring into his soul.

“Okay,” Dick breathes. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Uh-“

Dick doesn’t know what to do. Damian is still staring at him. Dick’s not sure he’s even blinking.

“Do you like Frosted Flakes?”

Damian’s never had Frosted Flakes. Dick remedies that immediately. Damian’s smile after his first bite is enough to ease the tightness in Dick’s chest just a little bit. He ends up getting Damian safely tucked into bed, leaving the door to his room ajar so he can go have a breakdown in the living room so he doesn’t disturb him.

Of course Dick will raise Damian. He doesn’t really have any other choice, does he? Plus, he’s somehow already managing to worm his way into Dick’s heart. God, is this what Bruce felt like when Dick first came to live with him-

No.

He stops that thought immediately. He’s nothing like Bruce. He’ll never be anything like Bruce. Because now that Damian is his, he won’t ever let him go, he won’t ever make Damian leave just because he might do something Dick doesn’t like. Damian is his now, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Damian always knows that.

Except Dick is broke, and there’s hardly anything edible in this apartment, and his job doesn’t pay well enough to support himself and a toddler.

And Dick doesn’t have that many options on who to call for help.

So after a week of juggling his job and his new kid and a bunch of different possible outcomes, he makes a decision.

And the next night, he shows up on doorstep with Damian asleep in his arms and an overstuffed bag strapped to his back.

Slade only raises an eyebrow.

“What’s with the kid?”

“He’s mine,” Dick chokes out. “Don’t question it. Please.”

Slade just sighs, then steps aside to let Dick in the door. The house is familiar, Dick spent a lot of time here during his stint as Renegade. It used to feel so suffocating, being in Deathstroke’s home. Now it feels like a relief.

“What are you doing here, kid? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Slade asks, sitting in a chair and swirling a half-empty glass of whiskey. He motions for Dick to sit on the couch across from him, and he does after a moment of shimmying the bag off his back without jostling Damian too much.

He sits there for a moment, Damian on his lap with his face tucked against his chest. He has one hand twirling Damian’s hair between his fingers, and he doesn’t look up when he speaks.

“You said I could come back anytime,” Dick says. “No questions asked.”

“I think you and I both know that didn’t apply to a situation like this.”

“Please,” Dick pleads. “I need the work. So I can take care of him.”

Slade’s face changes, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re both quiet for a long time, Dick trying to focus on the soft breaths from Damian as he sleeps. Eventually, Slade stops swirling the glass so he can bring it up to his mouth to empty the rest of it.

“You can stay in your old room for now,” Slade says, getting up. “But we’ll be relocating by the end of the week.”

Dick doesn’t know what to say, just stays rooted to the couch, hugging Damian a little tighter. Slade sees it and lets out a huff of a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll pick somewhere with good schools for the kid.”

Dick’s mind is moving like molasses as Slade walks behind the couch, grips his shoulder, and leans close enough to whisper in Dick’s ear, “Welcome back, Renegade.”

Dick waits until he hears Slade move into the kitchen to bring Damian and their stuff up to his old room. It still looks the same, not that it had many personal touches to begin with. A couple trinkets. Some souvenirs from jobs. A picture he and Slade had taken together, posing as tourists while they scoped out a target. If you squint, they almost look like a family.

Dick tucks Damian into bed, making sure he has the stuffed elephant he insisted he needed so he and Dick could match. It had been $30 - completely outrageous for a stuffed doll, in Dick’s humble opinion - but the way Damian’s face looked so excited at the prospect of having a similar kind of toy to the one he knew Dick had made him instantly cave. Dick had to beg off the cooks at the bar for a few free to-go boxes for a few days afterwards, but it had been worth it.

Dick shuts off the light, leaving the curtains drawn enough for the light from the moon to shine in just in case Damian woke up before morning, then collapsed into the bed next to him. He wrapped his arm around Damian, wanting to keep him safe, to let him know Dick was right there if he needed anything.

And Dick went to sleep trying not to feel like he just sold his soul. It will be worth it. It has to be worth it.

[aayakashii]

FINALLY IT'S THE LAST DAY of posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker! Ignore the fact that it's the middle of March already and I procrastinated this for so long

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine's Day in Mortkranken

Yuri

how does he show affection?

Peak tsundere. The tsundere to end all tsunderes. He demands your constant attention while hiding it behind a thick layer of furrowed brows, scowls and raised hackles. Expects you to be at his beck and call 25/8 and if you don't do that, he WILL be grumpy for the rest of the week. He needs you there, beside him. Even if you're not doing anything and he's working, he just needs your presence to feel like things are bearable. (He's the king of parallel play btw.)

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

Yuri says he hates them and NEVER gives them, but you know better. You notice how he slowly slips into your arms and melts against you when you hold them out for him. You notice how his hands grip your clothes like he's afraid you'll disappear and take all of his peace with you. You don't say anything. You just hold him when you know he needs it (and he'll allow to be held when you're the one that needs comfort).

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

PLEASE. He's a Victorian man in spirit. He can't even look at the nape of your neck or your hands without blushing like a damsel. He can't flirt and won't flirt, ever.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

The problem isn't giving you a gift. The problem is how much he overthinks what he could possibly give you that would look in good taste, so he can come out of it looking good. He REFUSES to ask for help, doesn't even look up online what are some good gift ideas for your s/o....... in the end, he gets so stressed about it that you notice his odd behavior. You ask what's going on and, after pressuring him a lot, he ends up confessing about his plight. You finally put him out of his misery by just saying what you'd like to get (a proper romantic date with him outside of Mortkranken)

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

SLLLLLOWWWWW. Yuri doesn't even understand what is happening. Objectively, he knows SOMETHING different is going on due to all the physiological changes in his body whenever you're around. But he has no idea why. Why is his heart tachyarrhythmic? What is causing the mydriasis in his pupils? Why does he feel epigastric pain and profuse perspiration whenever you're around? He already has anxiety, so are his symptoms just worsening? When you finally end up making a move, it's when it all clicks into place for him. And after that, he has to come into terms with the fact that he likes you. He's stuck with you now, though.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

HARRRRRDDDDDD. Even the mere thought that he loves you sends him into a panic attack. Love isn't supposed to be nowhere near the priorities of the best doctor/researcher in Japan. However, when you burst into his office late at night and force him to go to his room, tucking him into bed and staying with him until he finally sleeps, he can't help but feel like love is endlessly overflowing out of his pores.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Yuri's AWFULLY jealous. Literally any little thing sets the alarm bells off in his head. He's so used to being dismissed by others, despite his scientific accomplishments, that any wrong move from you will make him spiral into jealous madness. And it's not pretty, unless you like how he looks when he cries. He wiggles and squirms when you decide to hug him while you soothe his anxieties, but eventually he calms down, sniffling and hiccuping in the crook of your neck. Maybe it's time to make a list of all your friends and acquaintances so he stops thinking every man is a potential threat... (spoiler: it won't help. His jealousy is chronic.)

what is his ideal date?

Date? He has no time for that! (You have to drag him out of Mortkranken and into a cute, quiet cafe or museum and force him to get his mind out of work. It's something he never even thought of doing, so just that is surprising enough for him).

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He wants to ask. It's a big move, a big decision, and Yuri thinks he's responsible for all the important steps in your relationship. If you end up proposing first, he'll accept but he'll get mad too. He will demand you let him propose as well (and will 100% believe that HIS proposal is the one that counts for real).

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Never even thought about that and thinks all of these dates are just a waste of time. He will think you're a bit silly for trying to get him excited about it, but with enough insistence, you can make him do anything.

does he get protective easily?

Terribly so. He wants to know where you are 25/8, if you're not around him. Yuri thinks anyone else besides Jiro and him are a bunch of unrefined brutes and that you definitely should NOT put yourself in danger by talking to them. Stresses himself half to death whenever you go out in missions and is ADAMANT on giving you a full check up once you get back. If only he had the money power to just bribe everyone to keep you by his side...

does he believe in true love?

Maybe as a kid, he dreamed about all those fairytales he had read before the only books he picked up were medical ones. It's tough to believe in it now, when all that seemed magical turned against him. You don't mind challenges, though.

Jiro

how does he show affection?

He suffocates you with his presence. Jiro might always be on the go, but he makes sure to take you with him, if possible. He needs to make a dozen and a half house calls? You're going with him. He needs to fetch something from the teachers? You're going with him. He might even show up at class a bit more frequently if you two have the same schedule. At the end of the day, you're exhausted from all the walking, but even then, he makes sure to stay with you until you're asleep. (Sometimes you have to listen to his big brother fawning over his little lovesick brother throughout the night...)

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He doesn't mind them, as far as he's concerned. He always accepts your hugs, patting your head while you bury your face on his chest (that's when he realized how tall he actually is), letting you hold him for as long as you need. A few rare times, however, Jiro has found himself with the impulse of pulling you into his arms and hugging you himself. It's like an involuntary reflex – he can't control it. He searches for you, only stopping once he's holding you tight against his body. It's only then that he feels that simmering need finally lets him breathe again.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He doesn't flirt, but he still flusters you because he is blunt as hell. Sometimes, he stares at you so intensely that you squirm under his gaze. It's when you can't handle the weight of his ruby eyes on you that you finally ask if anything's wrong. When he says, "I really would like to kiss you" matter-of-factly, with his monotone voice, you feel your stomach flip inside you. He may be a doctor, but he's also a little bad for your heart.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He doesn't waste any time trying to think about a surprise. The only surprise he likes to give you is making you yelp so he can laugh at your expressions. Therefore, Jiro straight up just asks you what you'd like as a gift and give you exactly that. Don't even try to tell him to give you whatever he feels like, otherwise you'll end up with a scalpel as a gift.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Much like Yuri, he doesn't fully understand what's happening once he starts feeling a bit different whenever you come around. However, unlike Yuri, he researched his "symptoms" straight away, as soon as he realized none of the diagnoses he was giving himself were correct. After that, it was pretty much smooth sailing. He accepted the fact that he was in love with you with the same ease he informs patients of their health issues.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Easy. Jiro is blunt. When he woke up from his coma, the usual emotional restraints most people feel around things such as that were lost. He doesn't see why he should bother hiding his feelings if he is with you. Isn't it the norm to express your emotions to your partner? He would only keep his mouth shut if you expressed discomfort (and obviously, you don't, even if it flusters you so much).

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really. He spent a good time reading and studying about relationships in order to understand his feelings for you, and there was one specific word he read time and time again during his researches: trust. Jiro trusts you and your relationship with him. He trusts that you wouldn't do anything wrong, nor choose someone else over him. If a random student falls for you, that's their problem – he is pretty sure you're still his no matter what. Now, if someone starts bothering you... that's a whoooole other story.

what is his ideal date?

Jiro wants to go to any place in which you two can drink some tea, since it's the only thing that doesn't perturb his stomach all that much. He's been trying to slowly eat small portions as long as you make them and feed them to him (you still think he's making that up just to indulge in your attention), so he'd like to take his own food with him, if possible. You tell him that maybe you two could plan a picnic somewhere quiet, and you see his eyes widen and glint a little bit as soon as he hears your words. Picnic it is, then.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He won't mind if you ask him first; in fact, that's probably what ends up happening. Jiro follows your lead and whatever you decide to do in the relationship (as long as it isn't breaking up, obviously). So if you propose first, he'll gladly accept. If you just express desire to get married, however, he'll just straight up propose as soon as the words leave your mouth. No sense in wasting time.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Does not care at all. Never even noticed things changed during Valentine's. If you point it out, he'll acknowledge it and ask if you want to celebrate it, but if you don't, he won't mind either. He only cares if you do.

does he get protective easily?

Even though he isn't very jealous, he still is extremely protective. His hands are always finding purchase on your shoulders or your back, keeping you safe and close to him. He's always looking out for your health and well-being, even when he isn't feeling good (you've told him to take better care of himself time and time again due to that). If anything or anyone seems to be threatening or even just bothering you, he doesn't hesitate to activate his artifact. You already know, as soon as you hear the distinct bling of his chainsaw, that you need to reassure him that you're okay and that there's no need to commit manslaughter over some annoying guy pestering you.

does he believe in true love?

Not really. He believes in what he can attest with scientific methods. Regardless, he knows he loves you. That's enough for him.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 7!

in which i handed in a thesis proposal, caught a cold, and read some lovely fics... it's been a wild week lol

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

baby that's why i fell into you | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 1.7k | GA

Eddie has amnesia, Buck struggles. genuinely one of the best love confessions i've read in ages <3 this had me smiling so much!!

call me what you will | ameliahart | 5.9k | E

A  continuation of 8x06 where Buck pouts, Eddie feels joy, and they fuck about it. genuinely i will eat up any and all post-8x06 fics and this is no exception... love the eddie characterisation here!!

faded from the winter | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 9.9k | T

Eddie struggles to bounce back after the shooting. Buck starts leaving him with his service dog, Cranberry. cranberry fic!! i love this series so so much <3 especially love the eddiemaddie friendship in this one!

golden morning sunbeams | Buddiesmutslut/@buddiesmutslut | 10.3k | GA

As Eddie is debating his move to Texas, a few texts from his son in the middle of the day set him on a course to getting everything he's been wanting. such a fascinating look at the whole chris in texas/helena and ramon doing whatever the fuck it is that they're doing plot! so good!! and buck here is just <3

hopeless, breathless, burning slow | mostardent/@laracrofted | 14.9k | M

After the coma, Buck struggles to feel real and unofficially moves in with Eddie. there's some gorgeous gorgeous imagery in this one <3 one of the best post-coma fics ever!!

let me give you my life | paleredheadinascifi | 6.4k | T

another take on what happened after the couch scene. Eddie *wants*. They're both brave about it. they're so brave about it <3 wonderful fic!!

slaughterhouse | kithmet/@kithmet | 21.3k | E

Eddie announces he’s leaving. Buck, naturally, begins a slow descent to madness. such a stunning fic it genuinely left me speechless... the most beautiful codependent freak4freak buddie <3 an immediate bookmark for sure!!

take two falls out of three | doitgently/@doitbuckley | 16.3k | M

Eddie tries to go to Texas. What do you get when you cross a man and an eighteen-wheeler truck? such a fantastic look at chris and eddie's relationship <3 beautiful writing!!

the moon like a spotlight | dykeries/@buddiesbian | 4.7k | E

Three months after Eddie moves to El Paso, Buck comes to visit. this is sappy and soft and also funny (the starnaming!!) and just so very perfect <3

the rainbows we chase | timeshareindestin/@timeshareindestin | 5.8k | M

buck accidentally makes an appointment for their first kiss. the proposals!! i love the proposals!! love is stored in the calendar indeed <3 so so good!

too far from the sun | idiotsinkdaisies/@idiotsinkdaisies | 9k | M

Where Eddie Diaz spends time in El Paso, and handles it fine. Buck is back in Los Angeles, and Eddie does not feel the hundreds of miles between them like a physical ache. (He might be lying to himself.) blanket rec for an author whose work i've been LOVING this week!! this one has the most stunning writting and eddie characterisation and i love it so much <3

u/fuckley's reddit post history. | dylaesthetics | 7.9k | M

the emotional rollercoaster of Buck’s Reddit posts throughout the history of knowing Eddie. this is such a brilliantly formatted fic!! i read this on a cold dark bus back home and it was exactly what i needed <3

what if all i need is you | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 3k | GA

“Eddie doesn’t even like men,” Buck says with a frown. “I asked.” “Of course you did,” Chim says, dropping his head into his hand with a murmured whisper of *Jesus Christ*. another blanket rec for an author who's been posting some truly brilliant works <3 this one is soft and fun and has such lovely firefam interactions!!

with a little water and a little bit of sunlight | teaspoonmoon/@young-waverer | 4.7k | T

The one where it's not Homes.com but it's also not porn on the iPad. such a lovely alternate ipad-scene <3 so sweet!! i love the dialogue here especially!

[gale-force-storm]

Ok, y'all can thank the ever-lovely @miradelletarot and this post for this one. 500 words of pure pwp and very soft dom Gale x reader below the cut

Everything is heat and bliss and slickness and friction, and it's almost too much as you come down from your latest high. You shiver and moan in decadent torture as Gale continues to thrust above and within you -- deep, maddening strokes that pull shuddering aftershocks from your oversensative core.

"Gale," you whine, arching beneath him. Even you aren't sure whether you're trying to push closer or pull away. He's been particularly ardent this evening, and as you recover from your fourth peak, you wonder if you can take much more before shaking apart entirely. However, it seems it might not come to that. Gale's movements grow quicker, more erratic. His breath fans rapidly across your skin, broken with groans that are half whimper. He's close.

You press your hips up towards him intentionally this time, chasing his pleasure.

"Gale," you moan again.

"My love," he pants in reply. "So sweet. Feel so wonderful."

"Please, Gale, wanna feel you. Want you to fill me."

His rough, broken moan sparks a tingling heat down your spine, and you know he's done for.

"My love, my love, my love..." he almost chants as he approaches the edge. One, two, three more thrusts, and then he's buried as deep as possible, pulsing deliciously inside you. You close your eyes to focus on the feeling, only to open them a moment later at the sensation of warm lips pressing against your forehead in a gentle kiss.

"So good for me," he murmurs as he grinds his hips languidly against yours, drawing out his pleasure as he spills into you. "So good. Take me so well."

You whimper quietly at the praise, pressing up into him more firmly, wanting him impossibly deeper as the throbbing inside you gentles and slows.

Another kiss to your forehead. One to your cheek. And finally one softly to your lips, still slightly parted as you both catch your breath and breathe in each other's air. You stay there for an endless minute afterwards, cocooned in his warmth as he softens inside you. He doesn't go far when he finally pulls out, simply rolling to the side and bundling you into his arms, his face buried in your hair while you nuzzle into his chest. He sighs deeply, content, as he strokes a languid hand up and down your back.

"Wonderful beyond words," he says quietly into your hair. "Enchanting beyond measure. You are the embodiment of bliss, my beloved."

"I'd say "you're not too bad yourself," but an understatement that massive would be frankly criminal," you reply with a playful smile. Gale laughs and presses another kiss to the top of your head.

"Always happy to please," he replies. "Care for a bath?"

"Mmm... in a bit. I don't think I could walk in a straight line right now."

Gale hums in acknowledgement, sounding a bit smug, but you don't mind. He's more than earned it.

"Of course, love. You did so well for me, you must be worn out. Get some rest. I'll take care of everything."

[postazkabansiriussupremacy]

Why? Sirius Black x Reader

Sirius is starting to feel a bit desperate to cum inside you again.

CW: Breeding kink. NSFW (obviously). Use of pet names. AFAB reader. Maybe a bit of coercion if you squint.

Sirius never put much thought into having children of his own. There were always more important matters taking over his mind: school, running away from his family, war, the Potters’ safety, being sent to Azkaban, a Potter’s safety, and then war again.

So, it’s probably safe to say this is the first time in Sirius’s life where he’s been able to settle down and focus on himself.

If you ask him, he’d say he’s doing pretty well so far.

He lives in a comfortable home adorned with plenty of windows. After spending so many years of his life stuck in dark and cramped spaces, natural lighting and a sense of openness is a must-have for him.

He spends most of his days working with the Weasley boys at the joke shop. Coming up with fresh and profound ways of helping the newest generation cause mischief is a good way to pass the time.

He has people he loves, and people who love him in return. Including you, of course.

For the first time in a long time, Sirius has roots. He’s comfortable and happy.

And maybe that’s why it’s becoming increasingly difficult for him to pull out when he’s fucking you.

It started a few months ago. You were casually complaining about the side effects of your birth control, and Sirius convinced you to stop taking it.

He promised he’ll pull out. He won’t penetrate you during your ovulation week: oral and hands only. Sure, it won’t be ideal, but he’ll do it if it means easing your pain.

So you stopped taking your birth control, and Sirius stuck to his word.

…for a little while.

Without your contraceptives in the way, it seems your libido shot up ten fold. Especially during your ovulation week. Sirius needn’t even track your cycles. He can tell what time of the month it is just by how often you’re pawing and grabbing at him.

The ‘oral and hands only’ rule didn’t last two months. The first month wasn’t too difficult, but by the second month, it just seemed too tedious, really. Why limit yourselves to certain body parts when Sirius can just pull out before cumming inside you?

It’s not rocket science.

It was a bit hard for Sirius to stick to his word, but he did it. Moments before he could shoot a load as deep into your pussy as he could reach, he’d force himself to waste it by releasing it over your tits and stomach.

It felt…. disappointing to see his ropes of cum littered all over your skin, rather than watching it drip out of your tight cunt. Even the idea of filling you up made Sirius hard again, but he couldn’t risk it.

Neither of you were ready for pregnancy, no matter how much the thought of seeing you with a newly rounded stomach made Sirius’s cock twitch and ache.

But Sirius stuck to his word. Every time he fucked you, he made sure to pull out. And it worked; you didn’t get pregnant. Sirius couldn’t help but grit his teeth and roll his eyes when he discovered you’d gotten your period that month.

Which leads us to now.

Sirius—for the third time today—sloppily making out with your cunt. His mouth feels incredible, your hands tightly gripping the bedsheets, but it feels empty. It isn’t enough.

“Sirius?” You breathe, opening your eyes and lifting your head to look down at him.

“Hmm?” He hums, circling his mouth around your clit and sucking lightly.

“Fuck—!” You gasp quickly at the small change, back arching. “Fuck me—please?”

Normally, Sirius wouldn’t need to be asked twice, but he’s feeling strangely agitated at the moment. He raises his head from between your legs, tightly gripping your inner thighs with his long fingers. He sits up on his knees, looking down at you irritably.

“Why?” He asks.

Your brain spent and foggy after several orgasms and on the brink of another one, the question confuses you. Your mouth opens and closes, not quite knowing how to answer that. It’s such an obvious answer, so what does he mean ‘why’?

Seeing your bewilderment, Sirius’s jaw sets. He isn’t sure what kind of answer he expected. Rather than explaining himself further, he aligns himself up with your cunt and pushes in. He gives you very little time to adjust, opting instead to completely bottom out inside you in one swift motion.

It’s quite easy, given that you’d already came on his mouth twice prior, but it still catches you by surprise. It’s a big change—going from being cruelly empty to achingly full.

Once inside you, Sirius rocks his hips slowly, leaning down until his lips are next to your ear. He murmurs lowly, “Do you miss me cumming inside you?”

“Miss when we’d go rounds and you’d be so full, it was practically spilling out of you?” He continues, his breath tickling your ear. “I know I do.”

“S-sirius, we can’t—I’m not-” You stutter, protesting weakly, barely believing your own words. Your fingers grasping at him, nails digging into the skin of his back.

“Why?” Sirius asks again, his voice hoarse and words sincere. “I love you. I dream of seeing you out and about, a little round stomach, knowing that I did that to you. That you’re carrying my baby.”

“A-ah!” You gasp out. Your legs wrap around his torso as he moves slowly in and out of you, the head of his cock continuously hitting that gummy sweet spot within you.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Sirius whispers, his voice intense as he can sense your fading hesitation. His hand cups the side of your face. “Tell me to fuck a baby in you.”

Breathing heavily and desperately grasping at him, you nod, giving him the go ahead to do as he pleases with you. The idea doesn’t sound half bad, after all.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Help I feel like the more I play the game, the more confused I get about Sylus' actions when he first appeared in the story, now replaying his first chapters after the new ones 😭 I mean, he has this past with MC and loves her, came to the n109 zone for her, and was the one to save her from the lab where she was essentially being tortured/killed over and over for profit, but when he finally meets his beloved again he treats her terribly? he chokes her, apparently keeps her captive for days trying to force resonate without giving any explanations, threatens her with his evol when she's hesitant to go to meet Philip, all while having the knowledge she was already traumatized before meeting him, grieving the sudden death of 2 loved ones and thinking he was the one behind it?

This isn't hate at all, I LOVE Sylus. But it's like he's a whole different person in that beginning. I was hoping you could help me make sense of it, because it just seems to fall out of line with everything we keep learning about him and seeing how deeply he cares for MC. Was that just the writers playing up the dark romance with big bad criminal trope or something? Or is there actually a good reason, storywise, for his initial treatment of her?

Ok first things first – You're absolutely right. Sylus does treat MC terribly at the start of LAR. You'll never catch me defending or trying to make excuses for his actions there regardless of his reasons. The narrative itself paints his actions as bad. And Sylus too realizes that they were, and that he went too far. And I've said it before and I'll say it here again – MC would have been justified in not forgiving him or in not wanting to have further contact with him. That's why her behavior in subsequent early cards never bothered me or struck me as "too mean". She could've been a lot meaner, actually. And this is coming from someone who broke down in the shower crying earlier over how bad I felt for Sylus and all he'd suffered during his separation from MC. But much as I love Sylus and recognize the selflessness and the purity of his love, I won't justify him when he acts like a red flag (which he does at certain moments in LAR. That's just the truth.).

That being said, I can try to speculate as to the explanation behind his actions. But bear in mind that we are still missing important backstory and lore for SylusMC's past before they got separated in the Deepspace Tunnel. And as such, more than likely missing context for why Sylus acts the way he does with MC. Why he is so rough and... seemingly a bit resentful. However, I do have theories/speculations regarding that that I'll get to in a bit... a long bit because... um... yeah this got... very long ijbol don't ever ask my autistic ass to write posts like this unless you're prepared for essays 😅

But first, I need to clear up an important misconception...

Sylus has never choked MC. Ever.

For one, he just would never do that. It goes against everything we know of him. He'd never lay his hands on MC with the intent of hurting her, much less to choke her out. Sylus himself hates being choked. Him doing that to the person he loves most in the world is inconceivable.

Just look at the way he cradles her whenever she is in small danger or in real danger

He wants to protect MC and make her stronger. Not injure her. Never that.

Then there's also the fact that the scene itself from the main story makes it clear that the choking never happened.

Look at this image here. You can clearly see Sylus' hand. Which wouldn't be possible if he were choking her. Just try wrapping your own hand around your neck, and you'll see what I mean.

MC also speaks and breathes heavily in the scene which she wouldn't be able to do if Sylus was choking her out (let's be real, she'd be dead if he did that).

It's clear that he is grabbing her chin and tilting it upwards to force her to look at him. To jog her memory.

And that is exactly why MC ends up passing out (in combination with having been drugged earlier by Sherman's goon). She is reacting to his eye, to the visions their soulbond causes her (bloodstained hands). If Sylus had choked her out, she wouldn't have been out of it for as long as she was (seemingly in and out for 3 days).

Now as for Sylus' subsequent behavior... it's bad. Plain and simple. And again I am not and never will be defending it. I am just trying to speculate as to why he would be behaving this out of character with what we know re: his treatment of and feelings for MC. Apart from obviously being shocked and hurt that the love of his life that he's exchanged souls with, searched the cosmos for, built his empire for, protected from the sidelines, waited 14 years for, doesn't remember him ofc. And also blames him for the death of her family and says she wants to kill him. So Sylus most definitely wasn't in his prime state of emotional or mental stability, which I do think accounts for some of his behavior. He hadn't expected any of this and for once doesn't really know how to properly handle the situation. Especially since for the vast amount of time they've been separated, he hasn't been used to being soft or gentle. He's been pretty much going from violent encounter to violent encounter. So safe to say he's a lot more rusty at being soft and gentle than memory (as in date card) Sylus is.

Then there is of course the possibility that being rough with each other was part of their past dynamic. They certainly were in the the dragon myth, and might very well have been the case in the nebula and after. So perhaps it just doesn't initially click for Sylus that Linkon MC is not the same hardened individual as she was in the past, and responds a lot differently to rough handling.

Now, I've seen people online that theorize that Sylus bears an active grudge or even hatred for MC. That that's where his rough treatment of her stems from. Granted, we don't know what happened before they were separated or under what terms they were. Maybe something went down between them. Maybe MC was somehow responsible for Sylus' imprisonment (there is merit to this assumption – Child MC threatens to throw Sylus into Tartarus, and adult Sylus does say this line at one point "You are my unforgivable sin in the fabric of eternity. The very thing that has imprisoned me" which is... interesting).

The point is, we have no idea how their separation came about nor Sylus' imprisonment. I will say however that I personally don't think it was violent or dramatic or even hateful, just because of these lines from Sylus "We were like flowers. We were meant to grow together in the same soil. Yet you were quietly moved to another garden in a foreign land. Still, you managed to grow beautifully." Idk to me that beautiful analogy isn't indicative of resentment or angry feelings over their separation, or of MC betraying him, which knowing MC she never would in the first place. She's as fiercely loyal as Sylus is, not to mention the fanbase reaction if "we" were to betray or own LI would not go down well. So I'm not terribly sold on MC actively betraying him... If she were somehow to blame for him landing in prison, I rather believe it to be a case of her perhaps committing a crime and Sylus taking the fall for it to protect her. Which would be in line with how he operates re: her. Idk I'm just yapping trying to say that I don't see MC betraying him or their separation being dramatic.

I have seen people speculate that Sylus went to earth to kill MC. That the fury we read about in the second Timelock Key is not directed at her situation, but at her. But that he changed his mind and let her live, only to wait for her to be stronger so he could kill her fairly.

I personally don't see this at all (again, I can be wrong). Because it doesn't line up with Sylus' emotions when he pinpoints MC's location (he is melancholy, sad. Not angry). And in my mind him wanting to kill MC doesn't line up with anything we know of him or his subsequent actions. Plus, killing MC would play into the hands of fate. And Sylus' whole thing so far has been giving fate a giant middle finger.

And I don't believe that Sylus was even angry at MC in LAR and that he took her to Philip's to make her stronger to get revenge and kill her. Why?

Look at his expression here. Look at his eyes. To me it's plain that he isn't doing this out of malice or feelings of revenge. But out of desperation. A feeeling that he has to do this.

Then there is also this reaction when he learns that MC rejects him, fears him, and is disgusted by him.

If Sylus was intent on killing MC... why would he give a shit? Why would he change his ways for the better?

If Sylus harbors resentment for MC, why does that all seemingly leave here? It shows up nowhere in Death and Rebirth, for instance.

And in the iconic scene in LAR where they dance, he looks at her like this

Mind you this takes place like... one or two days after the incident at Philip's shop?

Hell, he even looks at her with love in his eyes when they first come face to face again

Doesn't look terribly much to me like a man who harbors hatred or anger or a desire to kill, but that's just me and my interpretation.

And then there is his iconic line from Razor's Grip ( a card that takes place very early on in their chronology and well before they begin to date) "You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine"

Not the words of a man who would a) choke said object of adoration or b) originally land on earth to kill her, and then plan to kill her for the next 14 years or c) who's love is secretly mingled with hatred and darker feelings. That is not what can be described as as a pure love.

And lastly...

Sylus himself claims that he hasn't ever been genuinely mad at MC. Which if he had wanted revenge or to kill her... he definitely would have been, right?

Anyway this a very longwinded and probably overly detailed way of saying... I don't think that Sylus' actions in LAR were guided by anger or malice.

I believe they were guided by fear and desperation.

By a need for her to grow stronger so that she can both control her latent powers and face off the future threat that is for sure on the horizon.

I mean at the end of Death and Rebirth Sylus even offers to help MC with exactly that. To become stronger.

And to be perfectly honest, I think desperation and fear for her safety and survival best fits his demeanor and just how far he is willing to go in LAR. Remember, he actually overrides his core principles in that part of the story – consent and autonomy (which I believe is part of the reason why he gets so distraught later and why he never again lets desperation take over. He realizes just how badly he fucked up, how far he overstepped). I genuinely cannot see any other scenario where Sylus would do that, apart from one where he's losing his sanity to his dragon instinct or something. He has shown time and time again how much he values MC's freedom of choice and action and consent.

We know that Sylus knows about Gaia. He knows about EVER. He knows about MC. He knows that she is a target for future use and abuse. He knows that her powers can potentially spiral out of control.

And he knows that if she is to survive against future threats, she needs to be stronger. So I think the main reason why he is so forceful and treats MC roughly is a combination of his hurt and surprise and not knowing how to act over the fact that she doesn't remember and distrusts and hates him, and also his desperation to ensure that she both regains her memories and gets stronger. He thinks he's acting for her wellbeing, and at first doesn't mind being rough or forceful if that will ultimately save her. Because in his mind, talking to MC and trying to explain to her wouldn't do any good – in her eyes he is a big evil threatening criminal that killed her family and then forced her to resonate for three days. Why on earth would she listen to him much less believe him?

So, force it is. The ends justifies the means... If the ends is that she will be stronger and able to survive.

Or at least, that's what I think his mindset was at the time. It's really only when Philip both tells Sylus that MC is disgusted by him and that altering MC could potentially damage her for life that Sylus lets go of his plan (and we see him do it with obvious anguish). Then he almost certainly steps out and does some serious self reflecting, realizing that regardless of his intentions and his pain, he went too fucking far. That this has done far more damage than good and that he could have approached things better. After which he noticeably changes.

And that is what is so impactful about Sylus' character to me. The fact that he recognizes just how fucked up his behavior was and course corrects. That takes a lot of maturity. And his development because of it is all the more satisfying to me.

To end off this incredibly long post – I am sure that there are other reasons for Sylus' behavior, and I recognize that my interpretation is not more likely to be correct than most others'. I am just working purely off of the info we have as if right now (which isn't a lot) and what makes most sense personally to me. And again, I am in no way excusing Sylus. He was in the wrong no matter how you spin it. He is flawed, and I won't ever make excuses or pretend as though said flaws don't exist. If I did, it would be a disservice to both MC and to Sylus and to the writers. He is also complex and grey and sometimes... well, sometimes people just do strange and seemingly inexplicable stuff when they're faced with unexpected and stressful situations. Again, no excuse here for his behavior, just an explanation.

But rest assured that Sylus loves MC and always has. His love for her is by his own admission pure. And if there's one thing Sylus never does, it's lie.

[chock-and-bates]

Hi i'm here once again asking for fic recs! What's your fave charles-centric fic rec? Any pairing will do 😊😸

and I am here to deliver 😘 so sorry for making you wait, love, but this prompt ❤️ as a chirlie, there's nothing i love more than a good charles centric fic. here are some of my favorites.

disclaimer that these are all lestappen. while i occasionally read other charles pairings, no one has my heart like this ship, so I will always be biased towards them.

@breathofnyx is my holy grail for charles centric stories. everything they write is incredible but particularly these two:

lemniscate: college au. charles and max are sort-of-friends who hook up and charles deals with the aftermath. (something about this fic is so striking to me, i think about it all the time. one of my all time favorites.)

half of heaven: model au. supermodel charles meets f1 driver max. (this fic, this fic ❤️ gorgeous, heartbreaking, captivating.)

another author who has amazing charles fics is sixteenthirtythree. (i miss them so much 😭 desperately hoping they write f1 again some day.) here are two of my absolute favorites:

blood soaked gown: omegaverse. max decides to retire and offers charles his red bull seat. charles considers his future, max, and the championship battle. (one of the greatest charles fics ever, i loved the characterization so so much.)

the clauses of commitment: amnesia au. charles wakes up and the last thing he remembers is austria 2019. (just thinking about this fic is sending me into a tizzy, it's so beautiful and sweet.)

Some others...

l'amour et la violence: mafia au. charles is out for revenge and joins max's organization in order to achieve it. (i was late to the party on this one but it. is. incredible. read the entire thing in one sitting i was so utterly captivated. the charles is so layered and complex- you must read this.)

straight lines (that unwind you): college au. charles and max enter into a friends with benefits situation and charles deals with it. (the writing is so beautiful, and charles thought process is so compelling.)

friends: charles thinks about how him and max aren't friends. (short and sweet. sentimental fav, one of the first Charles fics I ever read.)

all of these are so good, and I have even more in mind but I don't want this to be too long 😅 hope you find something you like!

[chronosdawn]

I finally managed to finish this quiz! I know self-aware AUs are fairly popular for video game franchises so I wanted to have a go at making a quiz based around a self-aware Love and Deepspace AU. I'm definitely not the first person to have this idea but I hope you enjoy my take on it! Have fun and let me know what you get :)

[fairandfatalasfair]

A few years ago I ran across a post talking about flood gifts - things that come out of a terrible experience that are nonetheless good and valuable to you.

I think about that a lot in relation to Charles, because Charles very much strikes me as someone who has made a life (or an afterlife) for himself out of flood gifts. I'm fascinated by the contradictions of him, the way so much of his character consists of things that are fundamentally good and valuable and beautiful, and that come from such heavy and tragic experiences.

His protectiveness, which grew out of the experience of never being safe at home, of being determined to protect his mother even though he was a child and deserved to be protected himself. But that protectiveness is something he's proud of and should be proud of, something that keeps him and his friends safe, a gift that he gives to the people around him.

His skill with people, which he needed to survive in a house where things could go south at any moment, and to navigate a friend group that ultimately turned on him for being brown and working class and daring to step out of line. But that skill is still worth having. It makes him good at the work he's chosen to spend his afterlife on, balances Edwin's brusque manner and puts people at ease, allows him to create warmth and family and safety with people who push others away without even trying.

His relationship with Edwin, who only met him because he was dying. Charles didn't want to die. He had a life to live, dreams and goals and joys yet to be attained. That he died at sixteen, with so much of his life still unlived, was a tragedy. And also, his death was the start of the most important relationship of his life, with someone who means everything to him and loves him in ways he never was while he was alive. He can grieve his life, and still know he wouldn't give up his partnership with Edwin to have it back.

There's a lot to love about Charles Rowland as a character, but this is one that I keep coming back to in my head, the way he made and continues to makes good things out of the horrors and tragedy of his life.

[sky-kiss]

"Look at you," Raphael says, voice low, his tone caught somewhere between purring and rumbling. You shiver, trying to put some space between you. His hold on your wrists remains surer than death itself. As punishment for your insubordination, he knocks your left foot out a little wider. He's curled over you, tail pressing between your spread legs. You want to stay silent. Don't give him the satisfaction, don't...

The tail presses deeper, sinking, taking. You shout, and the sharpness of the exclamation finds its mate in his laugh, self-satisfied and insufferable. Raphael strokes two fingers down the column of your throat. "Half the realm ready to throw themselves at your feet...and you come knocking at my door. I'm flattered, pet. Truly."

You know better than to close your eyes. You're permitted to watch his face. Or the tail lazily thrusting into you. Raphael continues, pleasant and seemingly unaffected by your whimpering. It's only in the rasping undercurrent coloring his voice, the tightening of the muscles in his shoulders, that you can mark his arousal.

"So easily brought to heel. Pretty thing..." Raphael breathes the words against your lips. "Come for me.  Let the Realms know what they will never have.  What is mine." 

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Jason Todd for the headcanon ask??

You and @fortuna-majoris had the same idea, so I'm answering you both together, thanks for the ask. It's funny/awful to me how I have so many thoughts about this boy only for them to, poof, disappear when I'm asked.

Headcanon 1:  Realistic

Jason is not a huge fan of mirrors. He's not naturally all that vain, so they were never a huge draw, but he has trouble meeting his own gaze in them now. At first, it was difficult to see the green rage of the Lazarus Pit staring back at him, but as he leveled out, regained more of himself, the natural blue of his eyes returned and that was worse.

Jason was fifteen, lean, not yet walloped by a rocketing growth spurt when he died. That was the last face he saw in the mirror, that of a boy. Now he's a man and massive—broad-shouldered, muscular, mountainous. It's an advantage on the streets, but when he catches his own reflection, it always makes him step back.

He wished he saw someone other than Willis.

Headcanon 2: May or not be realistic, is definitely funny (at least to me)

I think Jason has to go at least three years before he can smell, taste, or otherwise interact with cinnamon or cinnamon flavoring without heaving after he loses a cinnamon spoonful challenge. During the fall holidays, he sometimes wears his helmet into the Manor so he can use the filters, in case Alfred was baking that day.

Headcanon 3: Evil and heart-breaking why would you do this

I think Jason is less haunted by the people he remembers killing than those he's forgotten or wasn't there for at all. I think making a choice to kill someone might be a choice he regrets down the line, but it's a choice he can own, beginning to end, with agency, control, and deliberation.

I think the deaths that wake him in a cold sweat are the half-defined ghosts of the people he encountered when his brain was still marinating in the Pit, the people he attacked in his mindless mania, the ones he targeted on an order from the League, the lives he ended in Gotham when he failed to keep his chin above the floods and the world drowned in green.

I think the deaths that soured in his stomach, pulling on him like lead weights, are the indirect ones he learns about later, not the piled dead he can't remember, but the ones he never saw at all. The incidental casualties, the innocent fallout from the bloody swathe he hacked through the heart of Gotham.

Which choices Jason regrets as his ages and his philosophies change (or don't) remain undetermined, but his unknown dead, his uncounted ghosts, those are the ones he will never be free of.

Headcanon 4: Doesn’t align with canon (or maybe even reality) but I do what I want

Jason is just a hair shorter than Bruce, even once fully grown. Maybe Bruce has slight lifts, who's to say. But Jason will never quite be as tall as his dad.

[brain-rot-central]

I basically died all day with a migraine but I got a little more hornt out. 🙃

[botaniqueer]

Mycorrhizal Networks, Anthropomorphism, Popular Science, and the Fantastical

One of my favorite podcasts, Let's Learn Everything did an episode recently on a topic I had been thinking about recently (episode 84 which you can listen to here), which is the topic of mycorrhizal networks and the connections between trees. Specifically about how it has entered popular science and become uncritically adopted as fact alongside some very New Age spiritual interpretations of it.

I obviously love plants and nature (I have an entire science blog!) and I want to learn all the cool things about them! But also liking a thing means not making up said cool things about them and also not projecting a lot of human attributes and values onto them, and instead enjoying them on their own terms. Here is a scientific paper more about this! ('Mother trees, altruistic fungi, and the perils of plant personification')

This isn't to say that there isn't something there are all– fungal connections between trees are absolutely substantiated! But we also need to not immediately construe it the way it's been portrayed in pop-sci articles– we don't actually know the nature of it, and it might not be deliberately to help other trees at all. We do know that chemicals from trees are making it into the others via the fungi though, we just shouldn't project human motivation or sentience upon trees and fungus, they are aliens to us, but that's one of the things that makes them cool. And everything is genuinely interconnected which is also really cool! Just not in the way that New Age folks construe it to be, with its spiritual connections.

In general we need to be more aware of the cognitive bias of bias towards more fantastical explanations; they're attractive to us because they help break away from the drudgery of real life, and in cases where the explanations being sought are related to human suffering, make life feel like it has more meaning. In the worst case scenarios, this leads people to look for conspiracy, blaming marginalized people or a shadowy council for the world's ills, when the motivations of the powerful are much more mundane, though not as cathartic, causing the causes to be ignored.

The above case isn't nearly as harmful, but it does link to the greater problem of how science is communicated, and also that there is a need to be flashy in order for people to even pay attention to research. (This is also a capitalism problem. Boring mundane science is the meat of science and research, and allows the flashier stuff to even come up. It also doesn't get funding) Another area of study like this is quantum physics, which while very cool and strange is also more mundane that portrayed in popular culture.