#it's odd that i like to sit around and think but i feel like it *shouldn't* be

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath

*TW: parental neglect, aftermath of suicide*

It takes Alexia nearly a week until she realises you're missing.

You're self-sufficient and independent. You've never needed much and it's not weird for Alexia to not see you for days on end.

You come home from whatever you spend your days doing and go straight to your room.

You make your own meals, she's pretty sure because she never has to make extra. Just enough for a family of three. Two when Olga is away from work.

It's a fleeting thing really, the only way that she realises you've disappeared.

She knocks on your door, intent on finally having that conversation about what you're planning on doing with your future.

There's no answer.

"Now's not the time to sulk, y/n," She calls through the door," If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Still silence.

"One! Two!"

Alexia doesn't wait for three, shoving open the door.

She expects to see you on your bed, sulking or whatever it is you do when she's not around.

You're not there though.

Your bed is made. Your clothes are packed away.

There's nothing out of place. Nothing to prove that this room was even really yours apart from a few neat stacks of paper on your desk.

Alexa glances over them, frowning as if they'd give her the answer to where you've gone.

She's been home since last night, the first one up and awake in the house. There's no way you could have snuck past her.

"Jaume!" She yells out," Where's your sister?"

"I don't know! Out with friends or something?"

That's odd.

Alexia can't remember the last time you mentioned a friend to her. To be honest, Alexia can't remember the last time the two of you actually had a conversation.

She shuffles through the papers on your desk.

Yes, she thinks, you must be with friends because there's three tickets to a ballet performance on Saturday.

You must be wanting to take them with you.

It's only when Alexia sits up that night, waiting for you to come home, that she gets the sinking feeling you're not coming back.

She waits for hours until the early hours of the next morning and the sun begins to rise before panic lances through her chest.

You've not come home.

She checks her phone, wondering if she missed a text saying you would stay at a friend's house but there's nothing.

She checks your room, just to see if you've climbed in through the windows but they're locked.

You are nowhere.

She pulls Jaume out of school for the day. She calls Olga to come home from Madrid.

She scours all of the places she thinks you hang out but you're nowhere to be seen.

It's almost like you've never existed in the first place.

The call comes in the evening.

It's Alba.

"I can't talk right now," Alexia says after two missed calls," I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alba says instead.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Alba chokes her words out like they're so physically painful she can barely say them. Like she's so numb that even talking is difficult. "I tried but..."

"Alba? What's happened? Listen, I really can't talk right now. I'm-"

"I really did try. They did too but it was already too late."

"Alba, what is going on?"

"We should go to the hospital," Alba says," I'll send you which one."

In the deepest pit of her chest, Alexia already knows what has happened. In some deep, dark part of her, she's known since Alba called. In the worst, most hidden piece of herself, Alexia has known since the beginning.

It's an awful thing for an aunt to see.

It's a terrible thing for a brother to see.

It's even worse for a mother to see.

A picture goes up at the ballet company.

(Alexia didn't even know you joined one).

It's of you smiling, the headhsot that they used on the website, displayed proudly in the main foyer.

'Rest In Peace' sits under it and a little plaque with your name and how long you lived. It states your interests with no hint about trains at all. It talks about your reserved disposition but mentions how you endeared yourself to everyone.

Flowers sit under it, bouquets upon bouquets from the dancers and the staff and audience members who have seen you perform.

(Alexia has never been to a performance once).

Support pours in from people Alexia hasn't spoken to in years. Old coaches. Old teammates. Old friends.

Everyone seems to have a fond memory of you but all Alexia can think about is the last words she said to you.

She can't remember them.

She can't remember what she said or how she felt or what she was doing.

There is a gap in her memory from that moment.

Everyone talks about you so fondly, with such clarity that Alexia can't replicate.

You have gone on a wisp of breeze and Alexia is left trying to catch the impossible.

Her mind circles around herself, trying to work out where this all went wrong.

She loved you. She loved you so much.

Her beautiful baby girl who was a little nervous and a little quiet but beautiful all the same.

The little girl who loved trains and ballet and doing all the super feminine stuff that Alexia had to learn when she was a bit older.

The people around her tell stories of you, like Ingrid talking about how you used to love having her braid your hair back but Alexia sits there numb.

She's been numb since she saw your body in the hospital morgue.

She's been numb since the funeral where you lay in your coffin, perfectly peaceful like you were taking a long sleep.

She's been numb since they all returned to Eli's house for food and drink to celebrate your life.

Alba is not talking to her, has not talked to her outside what is needed since she called.

Alexia hasn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the realisation that she's a mother that just had to bury her daughter.

It was not a disease that took you. It was not a heart attack. It was not a random attack on the street.

It was you.

You made this decision, decided that this world was not worth living in anymore. That you could no longer cope with everything happening around you.

Things that Alexia has no knowledge on and, now, will never have any knowledge on.

You thought that this path was better than returning home.

You thought that everything would be better, more peaceful if you took your life away.

People have been cautious around Alexia, seeing just how close she is to tears.

She didn't cry during the funeral when you were lowered down into the ground with nothing but a neat blouse and a skirt.

Nothing to take with you now that you're gone.

Olga had to pack your things away in your room because Alexia could not force herself to even step through the doorway.

Your things are gone.

You are gone.

And Alexia will never know why.

[dollieseo]

TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME AGAIN.

SYNOPSIS. you unintentionally became close to ning yizhuo as trainees. she made it into aespa, you didn’t. after you left sm and debuted with le sserafim, the desire to reconnect is heavy, but it’s not as easy as it sounds.

FEATURING. ningning x le sserafim 6th member reader

WARNINGS. none, maybe a little angsty tho idk

AUTHORS NOTE. first fic hello!! inspired by this song

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

you came to sm entertainment with the sole purpose of becoming an idol. it’s all you’ve ever wanted since you were eight years old. it wasn’t to make friends or build relationships; you wanted to work.

you kept to yourself during your trainee period, never really getting close to anyone. the trainee system was a twisted game and one small mistake could get you sent home. you’ve seen it happen with other trainees who were friends. one would be let go and the other left without their other half. you didn’t want any of that to get in the way of your goal.

ning yizhuo joined the company a year after you did. she was young, only a year younger than you. you remember the first time you officially met her in the practice room, which was completely by accident by the way.

as you walked through the company halls, going to your reserved practice time, you could faintly hear music playing from the practice room, which you found odd. you decided to slowly crack the door open to peek through and saw the younger girl practicing the choreography to into the new world. you know that she was new, maybe two weeks in? it makes sense that she wouldn’t know about your routine. you debated on just leaving and finding a different room, but decide against it.

as soon and you fully entered the practice room she seemed to take notice, jumping in surprise and instantly turning to greet you. you watched as she rushed to turn the music off, it was a little comedic. she hesitantly walked towards you, not really knowing what to say. you could sense the confusion on her face.

“this is my usual rehearsal time here,” you begin, and before yizhuo can spew out apologies, you continue, “it’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“i’m sorry, i can leave,” she managed, looking down at the floor. you feel a little bad, figuring she was probably embarrassed. you sigh, “no, it’s okay,”

‘what the fuck are you doing?’

“you’re practicing into the new world, right?”

she nods.

“we can practice together.” you decide. her face lights up, eyes gleaming, but you instantly regret you words. normally, you prefer practicing alone and being the only person to see the process of fixing your flaws and improving. but going by her reaction she probably wouldn’t think to judge you on anything.

“really?” she asks and you nod, walking towards the speaker to turn the music back on. “come on.”

you and yizhuo spend the next few hours practicing (more like you spend most of the time practicing while she stands there watching, admiring your movements). you were a dancer long before you joined sm, so you ended up helping her with the choreography after seeing her struggle, giving her tips and pointers to help her improve. you thought it was cute how intensely she took in your every word, mentally taking note of every detail you told her.

since that day she insisted on sticking with you. as much as you internally protested, you didn’t do much to keep her away. how could you? she was, what, barely 14? and she was new to the industry. even though you were only a year older than her, you didn’t have the heart to leave her on her own.

the two of you grew close unexpectedly fast, practicing together whenever you didn’t have individual lessons, spending hours in the practice room sometimes not even doing anything, just sitting against the mirrors and having random conversations that ended with both of you in tears from laughing so hard. as time went on, it became relatively known around the company that the two of you were a duo, not one left without the other.

as much as you like yizhuo, or ningning as she would be called after being introduced as an sm rookie, you always curse yourself thinking back to your previous views on building relationships as a trainee. you still have that opinion, but even as the two of you grew up you can’t bring yourself to stay away from her. you don’t want to.

after about four years together, the time came for sm’s newest girl group to be officially formed. for the last few months the company played with lineup, adding and removing girls almost every few weeks. you and ningning were apart of the group of girls considered for the final lineup, along with yu jimin and kim minjeong.

after what felt like an eternity of uncertainty, the company finally announced who would be in the final lineup. many were sure that you would be included, being an sm rookie who ranked highly at monthly evaluations. you were confident too.

however, while you all were practicing, a staff member brought in another girl and asked you to come out. you recognized her as uchinaga aeri, who only joined the company a few months ago. you looked around skeptically, but followed the staff member out of the room and into the hallway.

honestly, you can’t really recall everything that was said to you. all you remember is something along the lines of your removal and the world falling silent. everything stopped in that moment and you wondered if you were dreaming. you didn’t want to believe it but the somber look on the staff’s face solidified it for you.

you didn’t make it.

that day, you left practice early. yizhuo, along with jimin, minjeong, and aeri had to stay later to practice for their debut. before you left, you stopped to give yizhuo a hug, reassuring and congratulating her. you could tell that she was having mixed emotions. she was happy to debut but she wanted to do it with you. though her face was buried into your shoulder, you heard her mutter a ‘i’ll see you later,’ before letting go.

she didn’t expect to see your side of the room empty when she came back to the dorms that night. all of your belongings; polaroids on the wall, your comforter that she preferred sleeping on more than her own, everything you had was gone. and you didn’t even tell her.

you joined source music about two years later, being added to their debut team almost instantly along with two former iz*one members, sakura and chaewon, and huh yunjin, who you recognized from produce 48 and swore you’ve seen around the sm building a few times. kazuha and eunchae joined not too long after you did, and at first you were a bit threatened by their addition. you feared that they were your replacements and that it’d only be a matter of time before you’d be cut from the group.

however, the six of you worked amazingly together, and after getting over the initial doubt, got along great. you all had that balance of being genuine friends and colleagues. you finally felt like things were going your way.

the success of le sserafim’s debut was massive, some mixed reviews about the title track, but the album sold well and you guys got a few music show wins, which you never would’ve imagined for your debut.

as time went on, your career only went up. you attended award shows, held concerts, had fans. you were living your dream, and although you never expected it to be with these girls, you were happy nonetheless.

you thought about ningning a lot. it was hard not to, now that you were an idol. le sserafim and aespa were always in the same conversation when it came to top 4th generation girl groups. you felt indifferent about it. you wanted to move on from the past, but you were also glad that both of you were able to achieve your dreams, even if it wasn’t together.

you don’t get many days off being in the prime of your career, which you’ve always expected. today though, as comeback promotions for unforgiven came to an end, you hoped to spend today laying in bed and watching netflix, allowing your body to reset from such a hectic schedule.

keyword: hoped.

the sound of your phone ringing makes you dramatically groan. silently hoping it wasn’t anyone important you glance at your phone to see an unsaved phone number. normally, you’re told not to answer calls from unknown numbers, the main reason being that it’ll most likely be a sasaeng. but you recognize this number, even though it isn’t saved in your phone.

“hello?”

“unnie.”

you’ve played a thousand different scenarios in your head, thinking of what to say in any situation where you would see yizhuo again. yet when that time finally came, all of your hypotheticals went completely out the window. you didn’t think her calling you would be that first interaction in three years.

“how’d you get my number?” is what you decide to say. you changed your number after leaving sm, but you still remembered hers.

“minjeong unnie gave it to me,” she answered. you internally curse, figuring she got your number from chaewon. it’s not like you’re mad or upset that she called, you just weren’t expecting it nor were you prepared for it.

“can you come over to the dorms? i wanna talk to you.” yizhuo asks.

“we’re talking right now,” you play dumb. again, you’re not prepared for this.

“i mean in person, unnie.”

you think about giving her the excuse of being busy, you should give her that excuse. but you don’t know when you’ll both be free to talk again. you want to take that opportunity.

“okay,” you decide.

your arrival to aespa’s dorm surprises all of the members. jimin, who answers the door, instantly wraps you in a hug and aeri and minjeong, who were sitting on the couch jump up to do the same the moment they see you.

you tell them that yizhuo invited you over and jimin lets you know that she’s in their room. you thank her and head over, giving the cracked door two light knocks before fully opening it.

you’ve seen her around and on tv this past year so it wasn’t like you really haven’t seen her in three years, but your breath still hitches when you lay eyes on her. when she sees you, she smiles widely. it reminds you of when you two were trainees.

“you came!”

you snorted, “did you think i wasn’t?” you gently close the door behind you before crossing your arms and slowly walking towards her bed where she was sitting.

“you could’ve,” she shrugs. “considering you left without telling me, you could’ve not come and not told me.”

you sigh and sit down next to her. “i’m sorry.”

that day, and the many days following, hurt. it hurt you to feel like you spent so much time working hard just to fail. you didn’t think it would hurt yizhuo nearly as much. you didn’t think about how much she missed you or how long she spent crying after realizing you had left.

the room falls silent, both of you unsure of what else to say to each other. there’s a million things you two could talk about but neither of you do, afraid of rehashing more bad memories. instead you make yourself comfortable and lie back, resting you hand on your stomach. yizhuo does the same and the silence becomes comfortable, both of you cherishing this moment; being together again.

“i was in love with you, you know.” you decide to casually let out, hiding the nervousness in your voice. you’re scared of how she’ll respond. she could laugh in your face, or just straight up reject you, even though you weren’t exactly confessing, and make things awkward again.

but yizhuo does the opposite of what you were expecting.

“you were?” she suddenly sits up and locks eyes with you. you think she looks like a doll with her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. you take a moment to admire her while she takes that moment to fully comprehend what you said. her mouth closes and her eyes furrow at her realization. “was,” she repeats, tilting her head. “you’re not anymore?” her voice goes quiet, as if she’s scared to ask. maybe she was, but why?

“not really,” you glance at her before looking back towards the ceiling. you don’t want to see her reaction, though you can feel her entire body deject into the bed and hear her mumble a small ‘oh’.

“why not?”

“hm?”

“why don’t you love me anymore?”

“i don’t know if you noticed, yizhuo, but i’ve been avoiding you since you debuted. kinda hard to keep feelings for someone you don’t see anymore.” it seems harsh but you hope your light hearted tone doesn’t make it sound that way.

“you didn’t have to avoid me. i would still been your friend─”

“it wasn’t about you,” you interrupt, sighing before finally sitting up to fully face her. “i was pissed and jealous and seeing you on tv would’ve only made me hate you. i don’t want to hate you.”

even after you debuted in le sserafim you tried to avoid her, and all of aespa for that matter. it was nothing against the girls but you couldn’t help the bitterness that filled you when you thought about the fact that you didn’t make the lineup.

you figured she’d have more to say after you revealed the truth, but nothing came out of her mouth. you could only read the disappointment on her face.

“what, were you expecting something different?” you ask after a long period of uncomfortable silence.

“i was hoping you’d say that you still love me,” she reveals, opting to look at her hands placed in her lap rather than at you.

“why?” you already know the answer. you just want to hear her say it.

“because i loved you,” she pauses, “and i never stopped.”

oh.

you should’ve known that something like this would happen, and maybe you did. maybe there was a rational part of your brain screaming at you not to go see her and you just didn’t listen. maybe deep down you still loved her, but the fear of losing again repressed that love. yizhuo or your career? you don’t know. the idol industry is a twisted game where one small mistake could cost you your entire career and if you have to lose one, you figure that losing the chance of loving her is better than losing the career you both worked years for.

“i’m sorry, yizhuo.” you whisper. it’s all you can muster up to say. you tell yourself that it’s better this way. sure, she’s hurt now but she’ll get over it. just like you did, or at least pretended to.

[ivybucky]

lightning in a bottle - logan howlett x reader

mutant!reader nearly harms the team in a moment of panic and feels unable to deal with the aftermath, but logan is there to bring you back in more ways than one

a/n: i have so many ideas besties... currently have a list of 5 fic ideas and this is the first one I was able to flush out. here's some angst with happy ending for ya (no smut)

content: angst with happy ending, lots of electricity(literally), mentions of torture and screaming, mentions of mutant experimentation, implications of shitty birth family, confession of feelings, reader crying, sad reader, angry/sad logan

words: 2329

~~~~~

All you could think about was the lightning. 

You remember walking into the room, where the footage of your torture was displaying blatantly across the TV news cycle, the team sitting there and watching with rapt attention. “Mutant Experimentation Footage Leaked” scrolled across the screen. You remember the static tingling in your fingertips as you recognized what you were watching. Your own cries echoed from the speakers as footage of Stryker’s experimentation on you from a month prior when you had been captured is played to the nation. 

“Turn it off,” you had said quietly, pleadingly. The team’s gaze snaps to your silhouette in the door frame. Their eyes held sorrow, and something else that you did not want to see. 

“Y/N-” Storm had started to speak, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“Turn it off, now,” you’d said, clenched fists at your side as the panic began to swell, small flares of electricity flaring around your knuckles. Memories of the torture, the agony, the hatred came rushing back all at one and your eyes couldn’t leave the screen as it continuously replayed it. 

As the feeling heightening, electricity cracked in the air. Your eyes lit up, a bright purple gleam taking over. There was too much silence in the room, the sounds of your screams playing in a loop like a broken record as the news team played the footage over and over. Finally, someone broke it. “Y/N,” Logan had spoken up, an odd, unfamiliar tone in his voice. Good god, was that pity?

“What?” You had snapped, finally looking away from the footage and making eye contact with the team, with Logan, and you understood it wasn’t pity you heard in his voice, but a form of fear. Your anger slowly dissipated as you took in the state of the room - everyone in that room (who wasn’t bald) had hair floating up into the air, falling under the influence of the clouded electricity that filled the ceiling, just as one is before they get struck by lightning. 

And gods above you had almost struck them. 

Your fists fell lax at your sides, realization of the height of your emotions, the loss of control taking over your features. “I-” you stuttered, unsure how to apologize for the pain you nearly inflicted. “I-I’m sorry.”

For a moment, no one moved a muscle, no one said a word. It wasn’t the first time you had lost control, but it was the first time any of them were in danger because of it. Everyone stood like statues, watching you with bated breath, as if you were one nudge away from electrocuting the masses. You turned and fled the room, quickly striding back to your room to inevitably lock yourself in. It was the only place you felt like you could be and not hurt anyone.

Hours had passed since, but you couldn’t shake the look on their faces, the pure fright they showed, caused by you. Decidedly, that wouldn’t happen again - you wouldn’t allow it, in any capacity. Would they always fear you now? Could you manage to stay surrounded by people you loved, but knew there would always be a limit to how far their love for you went? Could you withstand the constant pins and needles your family would walk on around you, again?

It was that thought that had you hurriedly shuffling through your closet to find the duffle bag you had lugged over your shoulder when you were originally picked up by X-Men. It was crumbled into a wrinkled ball on the top shelf, thought to no longer have any use. 

You paced around the room, picking up the things you knew you couldn’t leave without. The students can go through my clothes, you thought with some sort of sad acceptance. Though, that didn’t keep you from packing some of the staples. The school logo printed on a t-shirt, an old sweatshirt that was singed from a fire fight in your first mission with the rest of the team, a stolen old flannel that smelt like smoke and whiskey-

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” You look up almost startled at Logan standing at the door to your bedroom, now cracked wide open. Logan… You’d nearly forgotten about the worst part - leaving him behind.

He leans against the door frame with a confused expression, arms crossed over his chest. You furrow your brows before turning back to the half-full duffle bag that sat on the foot of your bed. You knew you couldn’t look at him when you spoke again. 

“I’m leaving,” you nearly mutter and you stuff more clothes into the bag. You can feel your eyes getting hot, and try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, his own brows furrowing. “Leaving for a mission?”

Your movements paused. You could tell the truth, but the reality was that he would try to stop you. And even if nothing had come out of the tension that hung between the two of you, you knew you would give in. 

“Yeah,” you swallowed as you lied. “Just a quick one, some intel gathering. I’m leaving sometime tomorrow morning.”

There was a brief pause, like Logan was trying to get a read on how truthful you were being. “Maybe I should come with you,” he says. “For backup, just in case.”

You clench your eyes shut - of course, he thought you needed to be accompanied. “I’ll be fine on my own,” your hands slow their movements as you place the last item in the bag, a gray zip up hoodie Logan had given you once. Were you saying that to reassure him, or yourself? You lied through your teeth like it was painful, as if the act of clenching your jaw so hard would break your bones and your will. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

There was another pause, and you were sure he was going to call your bluff, but he just clicked his tongue. “Well alright,” he said gruffly, almost dejectedly. His hand fiddled with the door frame for a moment hesitantly. “You know that if you need-“

“I know,” you interrupted, turning to give him a tight smile. “I know.” He gave a saddened half smile before nodding and walking away. 

The space he once occupied at the door was empty now, but for a moment you stared at as if he was still there, as if he was still trying to comfort you even when he didn’t know how. 

An errant tear slipped from your eye and trailed down your face for a moment before you snapped back into reality, wiping the tear away quickly with the heel of your hand. You aggressively zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, eager to leave before anyone, mainly Charles, got an idea of your plan. 

With the click of the front door, and the clap of a thunderstorm on the dark horizon, you were gone. 

As Logan left your room, he externally winced at his inability to provide comfort - to you of all fucking people - as if the non-action hurt him. The pain on your face seeped into the air and into his adamantium bones, as if it was transferable through the longing gazes and secretly honeyed words. 

He hung his head and he slowly walked further down the hall, a part of him hoping he would hear your door creak open and hear you call out his name. Instead, he was met with the faint sniffles of a teary nose that only his heightened hearing could pick up, a scuffle of fabric being shoved tightly into the duffle that was then harshly zipped shut with a shuddering sigh.

He turned the corner to retreat to his room before he could hear any more, deciding to join the mission the next morning anyways. 

The following morning, Logan made his way to Charles, unexpecting wanting to make his intentions to follow her known to someone. He entered the room, Charles already staring directly at him with a face one could only describe as similar to an omniscient god.

“Logan,” Charles spoke, somewhat resigned. “She doesn’t have a mission.”

Logan paused in his step with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about? She said she was leaving this morning.”

“I did not give her one,” he confirms. “I have a feeling-”

Logan cut him off before the professor could continue. His jaw was clenched tight as he spoke the words. “She left.”

A tense silence took over the room, Charles watching Logan with a straight, yet dissecting gaze. Logan broke eye contact and looked away momentarily as he felt his heart sink to his stomach for the first time in decades. 

Finally, he looked back to Charles with a determined glare. “Where is she?”

The side of the professor’s mouth twitches up. 

—-

It only took two days for Logan to reach you. Charles was able to track your location easily as soon as he was asked. It took nothing for Logan to take the bike and peel out of the upstate town. Now, he stood in the rain staring at the shitty side-of-the-road motel with a simmering glare. 

His mind floated despondently in the air above him, completely unattached from his body as it stomped its way up the stairs and down the hall to your room. His fist banged on the door loudly, uncaring of its stability under his metal skeleton. His heightened exhaustion and emotions tethered him enough to not let his head fly too far away from him, but the reality was that he hadn’t slept since you left and the only words he spoke were to himself as he practiced what he would say to get you to return.

But then, the door swung open. His mind snapped back to his body as soon as he saw your face, but the pleas he had planned to beg left him just as quick. 

“You lied to me,” he growled, he accused, standing in the open door, his hands resting up on the door frame. The rain continued to pour just past the motel covering, evidence of its duration linger in the form of wet tracks down his leather jacket, the dampness of his hair, the drops that stuck to his face. 

“Logan-”

“You lied to me, Y/N,” he repeated, a new kind of angry heat simmering in his eyes. “You were not leaving for a mission.”

You take another deep breath. “‘M leaving for good,” you utter softly, your hands trembling slightly at the first out loud admission of what you had planned to do. You circled the back in the room, putting the cheap mattress in between you as some sort of barrier. The duffle bag he saw you packing days ago sat mockingly between you both. 

“Come on, what the fuck? ‘Leaving for good’?” He asks incredulously, taking a step forward and letting his arms drop to his sides. “You were going to leave the mansion, just like that?”

You stare at the duffle’s opening, having only reached that motel hours ago, not long enough to unpack the only remaining items you had. “I can’t stay, Logan,” you say softly, not moving to look at him. “No matter how careful I am, no matter how hard I try, I can’t control it, I can’t control me. Even Charles doesn’t know what to do with me, I-I had to leave, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“No,” he says defiantly, moving cautiously closer around the side of the bed. “Not everyone.”

The tears welled in your eyes at his words, unable to stop them from falling and you crossed your arms in front of you protectively, the tear-stained cuffs of the hoodie, his hoodie, pushed up your forearms. “Why are you here, Logan?”

“Why am I- are you stupid?” He scoffed, causing you to flinch at his harshness. “I’m here to bring you back. You’re not leaving the school, you’re not leaving me alone-”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, with tears streaming down your face as you shake your head. He can feel his heart break at the side of your distress. “None of you do. I nearly struck all of you the other day, just because I got emotional. I almost hurt you, and that’s the last thing you need, Logan.”

Logan quickly moves closer to stand in front of you and cups your cheeks, bringing your wet eyes to his. “Don’t you get it,” he says with a strained, rough voice. His thumbs sweep gently under your eyes to brush away the tears. “You are the only thing I need. Fuck everything and everyone else.”

Your hands come up to hold onto his wrist, keeping his hands exactly where they are on your face. “Logan-” you stutter as you search his eyes almost hopefully. “What are you saying?”

There’s a brief silence in between your soft sniffles and the sound of the rain on the other side of the motel door. When Logan speaks again, it is deliberate, and it’s what he wanted to say all along. “I’m saying I am nothing without you, sweetheart,” he urges, his thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. “I was nothing before you, and I know that if you leave now, I’ll be nothing all over again. Not a single person in that school wants you to leave, me especially.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in time with the hopeful clenching of your heart, forcing tears out as you do so. You rest your forehead against Logan’s as he continues. “Please,” he nearly whispers, his nose bumping against yours. “Come home with me and turn nothing into something again.”

You nodded against him and spoke a wet “okay” before pressing your lips, finally, against his. And, just as you had predicted you would several nights ago, you gave in. 

_____

a/n: quickly posting this bc if i keep staring at it i'll never post it pls tell me how i did :D logan smut comin soon, pls like, comment, reblog

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

As much as Yuu tried, she still ended up in trouble in trouble sometimes. Be it with Ace and Deuce, or just running late from acting as Crowley’s unofficial gopher, it was something. The punishments usually weren't that bad though, sometimes even relaxing.  

Like right now, it was a little bit of a trip down memory lane as she scrubbed the statues down on Main Street. It was odd, having the dreams that she did that painted the Great 7 in shadows instead of light, but it felt...right. Balanced.  

A story about a maid who would be going to a ball was the current dream cycle, though she didn’t get the feeling this one was going to relate to any upcoming overblots. While they didn’t happen as often, she occasionally just dreamt of things like this. While there was a lot to ruminate over, like the stepmother and Professor Trien, right now it was just a catchy little song sung by the fairy stuck in her head.  

“Put it together-” The King of Beasts statue wasn’t in bad shape at least, “and what do you got-” Just had to get the moss out of his eye, “Bippity Boppity Boo!” 

The eye blazed green, cracking open with a clap of thunder!  

Yuu fell, catching herself with her hands. Shit! Did she break it? Damnit, she couldn’t afford- 

Wait. It looked fine. Just a wet statue.  

“Maybe I just need to finish this up.” She muttered. “Lack of sleep must be getting to me.”  

The atmosphere had changed, the tension of a storm about to break open. As she finished the King of Beasts, she clocked her progress and ran, feeling like eyes followed her until she turned the corner.  

Malleus must be in a mood, she thinks, watching the dark clouds forming and the green smoke that seems to be spilling out the fence of Ramshackle. It isn’t the right shade of green though, more muted and not as...saturated? The gate creeks ominously and it doesn’t take her long to notice the figure sitting on the porch of Ramshackle.  

He is hunched over, a shawl tossed over his head that was once bright with color and design, now faded to grays, browns and darker reds like blood. His left eye is as green as the Diasomnia mage crystals, clear and unclouded, and the right faded as the green smoke around him. A gnarled staff is gripped in his hands, a gourd tied to the top with a handful of what might be rib bones along with some sort of dried fruit she thinks.  

This isn’t a harmless man, her instincts can say that much, but...he doesn’t feel like a threat. He could be. He’s choosing not to.  

“How can I help you?” Yuu asks, getting a bit closer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a teacher here?”  

He chuckles, making the pointed beard shake, but it’s not cruel. “I suppose that depends on you. I think you are in need of a teacher. And I am in need of a place to stay.” 

“What do I need to learn?”  

“Magic.”  

“Ha!” Yuu can’t help it, barking a laugh. “You are mistaken. I have no magic of my own.” 

“No, cub, you have magic, just not Wonderland magic. You have the Old magic, older even than General Lilia, the same as I. These teachers cannot help you, but I can.”  

He removes the shawl’s hood from his face, revealing a pair of brown lion ears and a mane that puts Yuu’s hair to shame. Even braided in parts to keep it out of his face, the long black hair stretches all the way down to his curved spine. A tail thumps against the dusty steps,  

“Afterall, you freed me, didn’t you?”  

It takes some explaining, a quick meal shared on her dining room table that feels even more rundown than usual with actual royalty sitting down. Thank the Seven that Grim was asleep beforehand, his new Spelldrive practices tiring him out in the evenings.  

“So, are the others...the same? Petrified?”  

“Yes, though you aren’t ready to free us all just yet. I was an accident, correct?” 

She flinches, nodding. “I mean, I guess? Sometimes I have dreams. Alternate tellings of the stories around here it feels like, or added details? Most of the time they follow an Overblot, but this one just felt like a non-threatening one. I don’t have these as often.”  

“Precognition is a dangerous magic, especially with no guiding tools.” 

“I dont know if-” 

“You dreamt of mine, did you not? Leona Kingscholar? The Phantom still was a part of me, drawn from my form and magic.”  

Yuu blinked, shrugging. “I mean, it didn’t stop it.” 

“No, but you were more prepared. You were willing and ready to accept Leona’s trauma and show compassion because you witnessed me make the exact follies and look at how that ended.” he huffed, taking a sip from his water. 

She hadn’t considered that really. It just felt natural, to show them kindness after all of it. But they were alike. Really alike. And the actions Leona had taken paralleled his perfectly.  

“Do you think if somebody had done so with you, you would have listened?” 

“Oh cub!” He laughed, and this one felt harsher. “I would not have. I was far too hardened. But Leona...he will be better.”  

“Well, I better try and at least get a bed ready for you.” She said, taking both of their dishes. “What do I call you though? King of Beasts is a bit of a mouthful.”  

He tilts his head, as if considering. She gets the dishes loaded and leftovers put away before he finally answers.  

“Taka. My Mother’s Son.” he says. “That’s who I wish to be now.”  

Yuu smiles, sticking out her hand.  

“Nice to meet you, Professor Taka! I look forward to learning from you.”  

For just a moment, he sees Simba, and Nuka and Kovu and Vitani. He sees Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. He sees naive and friendly and believes in him, for as little he has to offer, and still finds him worthy.  

He shakes her hand and hangs his stone heart to air out.  

[inchidentally]

Inch what is your opinion on this clip? https://www.tumblr.com/eightyonefour/762429464940527616/what-kind-of-guyteammate-is-oscar

It makes me sad that Lando isn’t able to find a lot of words to describe Osco ;-;

ohhh anon I know for most ppl this is all so boring and not interesting but the way excitable!nervous!shy!butextroverted!fidgety!sassy!emotional!squirmy!insecuresometimes!pleaseloveme!whydoyouhateme?!seeIknewyou'dloveme!creative!sexualconfidence!HORNY!travelstheworldintechnicolor!babyfever!workaholic!Lando exists against calm, placid, self-assured, does his job well,what's the point in doing less than his best, work life balance, lowkey, rational, good with kids but talks to them like adults Oscar makes me so emotional for god knows what reason ??? ;_;

but to Get Into It, I know this is the choppiest messiest compilation I've ever done but hopefully it'll be both self-explanatory and also go along well w my usual dissertation on something that has no real life importance for me but that makes me Feel Things

x x x

so the main thing with how Lando's stops for long periods to think and mull it over is for two reasons: one is that he hasn't done the usual PR aspect of his rs with Oscar the way he has with other drivers/teammates - and the other is that if he found Oscar dull or uninteresting then he wouldn't have had to sit and think aslfgsaljfgsajl. Lando's rly good with the media and honestly this answer would've been rly easy and quick if he could just say "yeah he's very fast and a good guy! hard worker and solid teammate!" bc it's not like anyone is expecting any more about a guy like Oscar anyway!

and with everyone else, Lando's got lots of anecdotes and jokes and shared activities as well as lots of experience interacting on camera in ways that give fans something to enjoy. it's not being disingenuous, it's just that they can easily tailor the friendship to be useful for publicity.

but !!! it's also the case of all of Lando's friends on the grid being extroverts as well as being great on camera. and Lando maybe could be seen as an extrovert but he's also naturally (self-confessed as well as confirmed by those closest to him) painfully shy and he relies on extroverts around him to help him out a lot. I got this ask that we don't even need proof of bc it's exactly how Lando is when he's alone among strangers or around huge crowds. same with when he has to do publicity stuff all alone the thinking silences stretch and he gets that upward inflection where he's trying very hard to see if the other person knows what he means??

and Osc is very much not an extrovert and while he likes the odd shared activity, he has said he prefers quiet conversation in small groups away from public places. so literally ! the ways he and Lando are compatible are simply in enjoying spending time together and being extremely low pressure friends who don't like the publicity aspect encroaching on that.

so how do you describe someone to a stranger if they're just quietly a good, reliable person who you like and work well with ?? Oscar himself needs a fair amount of prodding and encouragement to describe himself, let alone Lando being asked to do it !!

which I think is why landoscar has actually had this strong resonance for a lot of us who have those kinds of friendships or love those kinds of people - you can only see it and get to know it by observing it and knowing it in a way yourself. the way Oscar stares at Lando and does his little self-assigned duties to Lando and the way Lando watches Oscar in that wide-eyed trusting way and lets his brattiness out bc Oscar will always find it endearing. none of that makes for snappy PR content but if you get the vibes then it's so so sooooooo sweet ;__;

it's also why their dynamic lends itself so much to fic authors bc you've got a strong foundation of their authentic dynamic since they can't/don't fake it or play it up, from which you can put them in any scenario or any roles and they just… write themselves! not in a sense that the author isn't putting the work in as a writer skfgalsfg but the strongest thread among landoscar fic is that dynamic always coming through so consistently (even in the more challenging dark fic or out there AUs) the classics I can think of first off are playdate by debrief, that one from work can come over on monday night by higgsbosonblues and q&a by corsi

the common development of how Oscar is so blatantly changed by Lando in ways that seem either superficial or purely practical so that Lando ends up initially missing out on the depth of what that means - and misinterpreting Oscar not changing emotionally for him as disinterest. only to find that when someone who is solid and reliable and knows who they are decides they love you, they show it by changing their life for you and not changing themselves for you.

and that irl considering that Oscar always says how important it is for his relationship with Lily that he spend time with her that isn't connected to his career/life's passion, it's clear that he considers that to be proof of how much he cares. so all of the little ways Oscar bends and adapts and fulfills Lando's practical needs are ways for him to say "I value you" "I make you a priority in my life" "I want to fit you into my life" "I am willing to give up something/change something for you"

like idk how much Lando realizes the significance of those things and that's how I interpret him spending a very long time mulling and thinking rather than just getting past the answer in a neat, succinct way. bc Max F is a very emotionally intelligent guy and very capable of expressing his feelings, all of the guys on the grid are varying levels of emotional awareness/intelligence but they all have the same regular expectation of using their words to express how they feel about friends, and ofc the people surrounding Lando for the past ten years are highly attenuated to his needs. Oscar stands out as this very very different person to what he's used to!

and lastly, there's the whole gentleness and communicating through their kitten smiles and their ways of getting lost on a random subject - they're just such a quiet, gentle introverted dynamic. there's this moment after Japan last year waiting for a train, as well as this moment from Vegas where the crowd is singing happy birthday to Lando that I think are like, poetic levels of how their shyness/introversion fully matches up. bc neither of them feels easy or comfortable actually interacting with the crowd, so they keep looking to each other and smiling for comfort and reassurance. if another driver from the grid were around they could probably rely on him to brazen out the situation, but these two kittens just find solidarity in each other to get through!

so a lot of what makes landoscar a flop for bromance-only ppl is what a lot of us love about it <3<3<3 like I love a good bromance and self-aware PR ships too but landoscar made me want to get an f1blr and write insane pointless dissertations about them so shrug emoji !!

[python333]

what's a noise to an eardrum? — python³

― ― ― ―

synopsis you've been on a mission for a while, and instead of going back to your quarters after coming back, you head to ghost's.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters simon "ghost" riley.

word count 2.2k

warnings ghost's pov, 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], sleep deprivation, bad cliches, bad writing, might be ooc

note hey gang!!! i think i got all the warnings since this is pretty lighthearted considering what i usually post, so enjoy :) lmk your thoughts!

Ghost was sitting at his desk―in his own sleeping quarters, since it’s technically past curfew and he doesn’t need any trouble from recruits about him being in his office after hours, the annoying little shits―typing away at his computer, trying to get a report on his latest assignment done before going to bed.

He’s had a little bit of trouble sleeping lately. Not to say that it’s your fault, but it’s definitely your fault. He doesn’t necessarily need you around to go to sleep, but since you volunteered for a mission a week ago, he’s been a little on edge. Originally, it would’ve been Soap and a few other sergeants heading out to a small town in some country down in Central America, but you took the place of Soap after Price had explained the mission. 

It could technically be done by one person, he’d said in short, but it’s quicker to send out a squadron than a single soldier.

You weren’t the best sniper they had, but you had enough experience with it for Price to approve of you going with one other person to keep watch of you. The long duration of the mission was really to be blamed on how often your target had been moving, leaving you with little room to take any shots. It wasn’t too important of a mission, however―as long as you didn’t miss your target in the end―so Ghost is sure Price is glad that he only had to send out one soldier instead of around six or seven.

Still, despite how there was little to no chance of you coming out of this mission in multiple pieces, Ghost found himself worried; something he, admittedly, feels for a lot of the soldiers here. His worry for you is different, though. Maybe it’s an age thing. Maybe it has something to do with how he’s seen you grow over the years that you’ve been here, and how close you’ve gotten to going from a Private to a Lance Corporal. It’s a relatively low rank for someone in the 141, which only makes him―dare he admit it―prouder. A weird feeling lingers in his mind when the word proud comes to mind as he thinks of you, but he ignores that feeling, instead opting to focus on the report he so desperately wanted to finish.

Despite his usual sleep aversion, he finds himself wanting to sleep for once.

Just as he gets to the middle of his report, he hears a knock at the door. Before Ghost can even say anything, he hears the door open, and his head whips around to see who would decide that it’s a good idea to enter his room without his permission. Though, all of his confusion and building anger dissipates the moment he sees that it’s you. Fresh from medical, he can safely assume, seeing the various bandages and bruises on you, and that odd too-clean smell that’s sticking to you. You look so exhausted, it’s almost funny. Almost. 

You close the door behind you and Ghost turns his head back to his laptop. It’s not that he doesn’t want to look at you, but it’s a little harder to when you look so disheveled. He hears a few footsteps, then the squeaking of bed springs, and a sigh before the rustling of bed sheets. In the faint reflection of his computer screen, Ghost can just barely see you getting comfortable under the covers of his bed, seeming to fully disregard his presence. He doesn’t mind, though. He gets it; that feeling after being on guard for so long, not sure how much of it you can let down even though you’re back on base, and that strange structureless feeling where you wish you had bones but only feel like flesh. 

It’s odd, put simply. When Ghost thinks of the feeling, he thinks of the age-old question, if a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? The feeling is like a constant questioning of what you’re experiencing, the wonderance of whether or not you can feel safe if the safest you’ve ever felt is a feeling lost somewhere beyond you. If you lose a feeling, was it ever felt? If you lost safety, were you ever safe, or, as Maslow would put it, were you always missing that basic need? Ghost knows plenty about missing safety. He knows that his mind blanks when he tries to think about the last time he felt safe before the 141. 

He knows that you know plenty about missing safety, too. Not a lot, because you never say enough to clue him in on just how much you’re missing, but he has his suspicions. Some are confirmed, others mere theories, but still―he knows you well enough. That’s why you’re in his room, not saying a word, just breathing heavily into his pillow and trying to garner warmth from his blanket. He can see you staring at him from the bed. He’s sure you want him to say something, and because it’s you that’s looking at him, he does.

“Back already?” Ghost asks dryly, drawing a small huff out of you. 

“Soap said y’missed me,” you reply, making Ghost scoff, “when he visited me in the infirmary.” 

“Too big of a mouth on ‘im,” Ghost saves the draft of his report, deciding to just save writing it for another time, instead closing out of the program and hovering his finger over the power button on his keyboard, “don’t know how y’managed to understand him.” 

You hum and sit up in Ghost’s bed, the blankets rustling again, and as Ghost’s screen goes black, he turns around to see you sitting up with the blankets wrapped around you like a jacket. He blinks at you, before raising an eyebrow at your position.

“Ruinin’ my blankets?” he asks, though sounding barely offended, “After walking in unannounced besides that little knock?”

“Ruin’s a pretty strong word,” you argue, “and it wasn’t a little knock. It was loud. Practically echoed off the walls.”

Ghost can sense your sarcasm from a mile away, but continues to play along, leaning back in his chair. You look a little more tired covered in blankets, he thinks, those dark circles under your eyes are a little more pronounced. He sees them a lot. Those darkened semi-circles that he used to think were just a part of you, some kind of skin condition, but later realized they were a product of your sleep deprivation. It would’ve been his first thought had he not always seen you with the bags under your eyes, but after going on leave with you―a few months ago, back to his small house, after you had admitted that you preferred staying with him to going back to your dingy apartment―and witnessing you getting proper rest, seeing those circles get a little lighter, he knew that it was more of a sleep issue. 

He’s gone through his fair share of sleeping problems. He still goes through them; everyone in the military does, he’s sure. Ghost used to think that he took the brunt of it, compared to the rest of the task force, not because of the missions but because of what came before the missions. He’s changed his way of thinking since then, has opened up his mind a little more beyond the idea of suffering more than someone else in a specific sense, but he still had that feeling that he took on the majority of nightmares. The word “nightmare” feels a little juvenile for him, but until someone creates a better word for the repulsive things he sees after closing his eyes and just barely drifting asleep, that’s what he’s stuck with. 

“You better hope y’didn’t wake anyone up with it, then,” Ghost hums, “I doubt anyone wants to be awake right now.” 

He sees a small smile grow on your face and small spots of blood arise from beneath the cracked skin of your lips. 

“Everyone here sleeps like a rock as far as I know,” you reply, before pausing, considering, “maybe except for the guys who came in a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sure they’ll be gone by next month,” Ghost tells you, his tone almost reassuring, “I don’t think they can handle any of… this.” 

“You don’t think they can handle your bullying?” you scoff, making Ghost huff out a small laugh, “Weak.” 

“Not everyone’s as strong as you, unfortunately,” Ghost hums sarcastically, getting up from his chair and walking the short distance over to his bed where you’re sitting. Automatically, you move so that Ghost can sit down next to you.

You’re both silent for a little bit. Ghost can see the few healing bruises on your face a little clearer here. Small dark yellows and reds on the sharper points of your face, the parts where the bone is a little closer to the skin, particularly your cheeks and a few over your jawline and near your chin. They’re a bad look on you, not because Ghost doesn’t think you can handle yourself, but because he knows that you can handle yourself, so the only way you could’ve gotten those bruises is if you were forced into a corner. He would consider that they were an accident, somehow self-inflicted, but he knows better than that. 

“Are you tired?” Ghost asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.” There it is.

“And for the few days that you did sleep?” He thinks he knows the answer to this too.

“I don’t know if you can really call it that.” Bingo.

It’s not surprising to him. Not only has he been on enough missions with you to know how hard it is for you to sleep outside of the base, but he’s managed to get you to actually tell him about your sleeping struggles. He knows. He watches you subtly kick off your boots, letting them fall over onto their sides, as if you could read his mind and know what he’s going to request next.

“Lay down,” Ghost puts a bare hand on your clothed shoulder and lightly pushes at it, prompting you to lean back onto your side, settling into the bed with the blankets still wrapped around you.

Ghost doesn’t mind the lack of blankets he’s getting. As long as you’re the one hogging them, he finds it easier to go without them, strangely enough. He lays down onto the bed next to you, his head naturally above yours, and neither of you bother to change positions. He doesn’t attempt to pull the blankets from you, and you don’t try to move away from him, the both of you simply existing together in one small space with nothing interrupting you two. A thin layer of air, similar to the blanket covering you, seems to cover the both of you, not trapping you together but instead comforting the both of you. The air feels woven from Ghost’s thoughts, yarn strewn from his cerebral cortex, emotions run through an invisible loom to create the beautiful quilt that covers the both of you. 

Ghost’s hand comes up to thumb at the edge of his balaclava, and he pulls it up the tiniest bit, but then pauses to think.

He knows that if you just turn your head up the tiniest bit, you’ll see his face. The blonde stubble peeking out from under his skin, the small dent forming in the middle of his nose from the constant wearing of his balaclava, and possibly the most embarrassing of all, that small smile he wears that pulls at his already cracking lips that draws blood on occasion. Despite all of this, he pulls his face covering all the way off, and tosses it onto his desk. Your face doesn’t move an inch despite how obvious it is that some kind of fabric has hit the desk. 

He considers saying thank you, but Ghost doesn’t deem it necessary. You’re so close to sleeping that he doesn’t want to risk ruining your chances by talking to you. So, instead, he just brings his arm over your side and lets his hand reach up into the nape of your neck to toy with the small hairs tapering off there. They’re short enough that he’s essentially just brushing his fingers against the skin of your neck, but he assumes you don’t mind, considering how you continue to not move. You stay still peacefully, soft breaths leaving you as your body starts to actually relax.

So you weren’t lying about your lack of sleep, he thinks, his own eyes slowly closing, not that I thought you were, anyway.

Your breathing creates the perfect white noise to him. The vibrations emitting from your larynx that escape your mouth reach his ear canals, where they bounce off of his eardrums, and move down from his middle ears to his inner ears where the nerve endings that live there turn the vibrations into electrical impulses and are translated by his brain into actual sound. The translation sounds like more than just a simple sound, though; it’s like your breathing is translated into actual words rather than breathing, words like safe and guarded. Those small vibrations bounce around in his ears and turn into syllables, then eventually whispers, then firm speech. 

Those words are like music to his ears, as cliché as it is, and he cherishes every word he hears―more than he’ll ever let you know.

[afyrian]

line three - lovely little detail m.list

    "i just can't get a handle on him," you lean against the employee lounge's counter, fingers clenching a small stir stick as it swirls around the contents of your mug.

  the creamer and sugar disappear into the dark cup of coffee, your mug feeling warm against your knuckles. biting your lip, you watch as sakusa talks to atsumu. there's an air to him, the way he stands with his arms crossed over his chest, a warm smile on his lips. while atsumu looks likes he's coming from the pits of hell, bags heavy underneath his eyes. 

  his late night talk show typically ended when yours started, giving the two of you to chat before he left for the day. and yet you had never seen sakusa with him, never smiling, joking about something you'd love to hear. "no, you just love a mystery," yachi exclaims, holding her tea close to her, the small paper tag resting off to the side. 

  "no-" you start, looking over at her, shaking your head, "no. he's a new coworker who won't talk much. you know how much bo- my old sound engineer talked. i miss it sometimes and it makes me more jittery in between calls," you shrug, pursing your lips in an attempt to come off as nonchalant. 

  "and him being attractive is what? just a lovely little detail," she rolls her eyes, smiling over at you as her eyebrows arch upwards.

  shaking your head, you look up at the station's old clock above the door. it has seen the test of time, but some of the managers like to say it's been there since the station opened. that it's there as a good luck symbol. the chipped glass and cobweb weaving between it and the ceiling would seem to differ though. 

  "don't you have some sewing to do?" you question, knowing you have just under ten minutes before you have to reconvene in your booth. 

  “don’t you have some sewing to do?” yachi mocks, grabbing a small packet of honey for her tea, “fine, you don’t want to admit it. but just know i do know the office’s code of conduct about employee relations and my lips are sealed.”

  bringing her index finger and thumb up to her lips, she runs it along her lips, flicking her index finger as they reach her cheek. her eyes move rapidly between you and sakusa, tilting her head slightly in his direction. before yachi can make it out the door to get back to work, she calls out to sakusa and atsumu. “you guys are coming to that celebration thing tonight, right? i’m trying to talk y/n into coming,” she smiles, knowing full well you never wanted to go. 

  “oh yeah, the twenty-fifth anniversary? i’m going to be late, but i think sakusa’s gonna be there early to help get some seats,” atsumu nods, knocking his knuckles against the table, letting out a short echo in the lounge.

  “really? y/n should join him, she always has good luck with those sorts of things,” yachi waves her hand, like it’s no big deal, and she’s not feeding you to the metaphorical wolves. 

  feeling your whole body go jittery, you want to blame it on the coffee in your hand, but you know better. the thought of something as daunting as sitting silently with sakusa, without your gear around you, is terrifying. “oh y/n, you should meet him down there, he’ll be getting there around five,” atsumu brings his hand up, hitting sakusa in the stomach. 

  “okay.. i’ll think about it, but we should get heading to the booth, get ready for the show,” you nod, running your finger around the rim of your mug, trying to change the subject and hopefully get back to work.

  getting to know sakusa and truly working with him sounds like a dream… but the way yachi is going about it sends your heart rate spiking. “i’m right behind you,” he mutters, following you out of the lounge, sliding past yachi as she looks over to atsumu with an odd expression.

  sakusa says something behind you, talking quieter than he expected he would, his long legs carrying him over to you. he scratches his eyebrow as he catches up to you, grimacing as you look back at him, “what’d you say?”

  “you don’t have to come tonight… sorry if atsumu made it seem like you have to,” sakusa shrugs, hands pushing into his jean pockets. 

  “oh no, it’s okay. yachi’s right, for some reason every time we go to a restaurant i have the impeccable luck of always having seats available. and with most of the crew coming, you’re probably gonna want you,” you smile, nodding as you talk.

  the slightly hidden humor in your voice brings a small smile to sakusa’s own face. “okay, that would be cool,” he mutters, following you into the booth, shutting the door behind him, “it’ll be at the restaurant and bar down by onigiri miya, atsumu’s brother’s restaurant.”

  “okay, i will see you there, sakusa. make sure to bring a good attitude and an affinity for bar food,” you point at him, suddenly feeling an air of confidence as you sit in your chair, the cushions feeling comfortable against your back. 

  nodding, he walks into the sound booth, hiding his face from you. pulling the microphone down to you, you pull your headphones on, smiling to yourself. watching as the timer counts down to when you’re starting. glancing towards the sound booth, his hand is up by his mouth, eyes adamant about staring down at his equipment.

  tapping the table with your finger, you wonder if possibly you’ve gotten through to him. if possibly you’ve broken the shell that he keeps himself hiding behind. as the clock ticks down to one, you take in a deep breath, “hello everyone and welcome to talk it out. today, before we begin our usual conversations, i have a bit of an announcement. it’s the stations twenty-fifth anniversary!” 

  a short cheering noise carries through your headphones as sakusa sets it off. “today between our talks, i’ll be giving some facts about the station and my time here. but that’s for when the time comes, line one, what would you like to talk it out about with me today?” 

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@jadeoru @yessimo @lale-txt @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sugacor3

@quikhs @todorokiskitten @mollyrolls @honeyfewr @pookiebearcave

@phoenix-eclipses @madiexuberant @kameyyy @cr4yolaas @asrichin

[lovemyromance]

your posts are literally the elriel bible, I don't think i've disagreed with a single one.

In general, elriels agree on a lot of things which is why it's so odd to find EL/GAs fighting with themselves over "elriels say elains gonna be a warrior" and "elriels say elain's gonna save illyria" because I have never EVER seen a single elriel say such a thing. I saw a long post from some elucien about how elriels self-insert and then they listed a long list of things about what canon elain is - except i don't think elriels would even disagree with what they were saying?

It got kind of muddy when they started trying to claim that "canonically azriel only lusts after elain" but whatever - you get the point. Why are they putting words in our mouths?

Thank you :) I know I always excessively post about elriel (because I'm pretty sure I have the attention span of a squirrel), but some days these petty arguments really make my eye twitch.

Idk why antis seem to think Elriels want Elain to be some warrior, savior of Illyria, High Queen type character. I thought we've all been pretty vocal in wanting to keep her femininity and her kindness and finding strength in her compassion.

If it's because the fanarts....well I think we've all established that nobody is really claiming fanarts to be canon. I think that goes without saying when we have fanart of an Elriel family with Illyrian offspring - or when Eluciens have fanart of Elain looking happy around Lucien lmao. Both are not canon. Who cares - it's fanart? It's not like we really going to pretend that all their fanart is canon either?

Because canonically - Elain can't stand Lucien. Canonically, Azriel has literally never touched Gwyn.

There are basic traits to these characters that nobody can deny. But the antis always have a way of adding additional, personal bias into things. They say Elain's not a warrior - cool, that's true, that's canon – but then they take it a step too far and try to claim its canon that she abhors all violence and she would never touch a dagger and she would hate Azriel because he's a warrior.

Canonically, Elain killed the fucking King of Hybern. She might not crave violence (oh- also what an odd thing to claim - that ANY character loves violence, btw), but she has already proven to be violent when needed.

Canonically, Elain does use a dagger. Not just any dagger - Truthteller.

Nobody's saying she out here training as a Valkyrie at the HOW - but she's not just sitting here in frolicking in a meadow while the rest of her friends and family go to war. She was literally taken AWAY from the main battle in ACOWAR and she still showed back up to pull the most badass move in the books, saving everyone.

Idk what about that is so hard to understand. No Elriel has said she's gonna save Illyria (lol), no one has claimed she's going to be Enalius the Second, nobody is out here waiting for her to take part in the BR and also become a Carthyian.

Elriels like Elain as she is. And even though she's not a warrior, even though she doesn't enjoy violence, even though she isn't a Cartyhian – Azriel still adores her. Azriel still wants her enough to question his religion. That's literally in the books. I can give you the exact page number and quote. I don't need to do any "extra analysis"

You want to talk about canon? Let's talk about how Elain is so perfect that she has even the most brooding warrior falling for her. Let's talk about how Azriel was willing to fight in a blood duel for her. Let's talk about how she was so ready to have a tryst with the Spymaster under everyone's watchful eyes.

We don't need to change anything about Elain, certainly not to have her end up with Azriel. Elriel having feelings for each other is already canon. Elriels did not have to change a single thing about them for them to find each other. That was SJM, so take it up with her.

I mean - she kind of ate when she summed up their relationship in ACOWAR with that scene in the garden...they might not make sense on paper but there's something poetic about them

[problems-exe]

The Poem

The story of how Prim and Lu got together in the printerjamau

Wrote this a bit ago and decided it was about time I posted it. This is incredibly long, so I apologize for that, but for those interested in their story, I think it's worth the read.

Begins after the cut :]

The sound of the wind breezing through the desolate building rooftop does nothing to drown out the rapid beating of their soul.

Prim finds themselves sitting, not alone, but with a close friend. Listening to her ramble about the latest au she visited and the small bakery from which she had bought treats. The bag sitting at her side was long emptied, its contents having been eaten hours ago. Prim has found themselves a lot less alone lately.

Despite their best efforts, it's hard for them to focus on Lu’s rambles, distracted by the intense feeling of something in the air. Something about today felt distantly off. It wasn't unusual for the two to meet like this, a gift cradled in one of the skeleton's hands. But Lu had seemed so.. anxious when she asked them to meet. It was odd. She had seemed… flustered? Almost? But that wouldn't make any sense-

“Prim?” Lu pulled them out of their daze with the utterance of their name, a concerned and nervous expression on her face.

“Sorry, that wasn't that interesting, was it? I got a bit carried away…” She states, averting Prim's eyelights as a deep blush settles on her face, accentuated by the deep orangish-pinkish hues of the sun setting before them.

‘She looks so beautiful like this,’ Prim shoves that thought as soon as it crosses their mind, nervous glitches appearing up their body as they force themselves to refocus on the conversation again.

“Nah. Long day. Just zoned out.” Prim replies after a pause. A lie. And they know it's one. Their day had been fine, a typical day as any. They're always honest with her; why are they being like this now?

“Oh,” She sounded surprised, as if she had been expecting Prim to call her boring.

“I'm sorry, do you want to talk about it? I've been rambling on for a while…” She continues, looking back at Prim with a crooked smile. The usual squint of her eye sockets not present. Something was wrong. She'd been acting noticeably off all evening; they should have picked up on the pieces sooner. Prim was the worst person for something like this.

“Are- are you feeling alright? You seem.. upset.” Prim slowly gets out, thinking through the words before settling on them. Lu looks a bit startled at the question.

“I'm, um, yeah! Yeah, I'm alright, just-” She fumbles with her words for a moment, blush on her face darkening, and Prim's expression turns into a concerned frown.

“I wrote you something.” She continues, digging around in her bag for a split second before retrieving a clean, white envelope. Clasped shut with a cat sticker, the words “For Prim” written in cursive on the back. She bashfully presents the letter to Prim, and they momentarily gawk at it, carefully taking it from her hand. Careful to not get ink on it.

“You mentioned wanting to read one of my poems sometime, so..” *She adverts her gaze, voice trailing off at the end as Prim looks over the parchment presented to them. Their soul pounds in their chest, and they scramble to find balance in its weight. They stare at the small envelope, feeling deeply touched by the gesture. They reach to carefully remove the cat sticker before Lu's hands stop them.

“Don't, um, don't read it here. Read it when you get home. It'd feel embarrassing to watch you read it in front of me.” She states, with a nervous laugh, gently pulling her hands away. Prim nods carefully after a moment, slowly and delicately moving to place the parchment in their bag, careful not to bend it.

“I better get going now,” Lu interjects after watching Prim's bag close. They look up at her, surprised.

“Already?” They respond, concern still evident in their face.

“Yeah, I've got a long day tomorrow. I'll see you in a few days?” She responds, sounding hopeful, pleading almost.

“Obviously,” Prim responds immediately, worry still swirling in their chest.

“Right. Of course.” She states, as if reassuring herself.

“I'll see you then.” She continues, a tight smile on her face. She gives a wave of goodbye before disappearing into a portal, leaving Prim sitting alone. Surprised by the abruptness of it all.

They clutch at the strap to their bag, the featherlight weight of the envelope feeling heavy at their side. They're worried about what they'll find written in there. It's hard to fathom Lu acting so.. afraid over one of her poems. She'd sounded excited at the idea of sharing some with them when Prim had brought it up. Maybe she got cold feet? Even then…

Well, no point in speculating. They'll find out when they get home.

Prim sits for a moment longer, taking in the sunset one last time, attempting to calm their racing thoughts. After feeling more composed, they reluctantly rise to their feet, a tinge of anxiety gnawing at their chest.

Navigating through the usual motions of leaving a get-together like this, they slide one of their feet along the asphalt, leaving a trail of ink behind. They place their foot back next to the other, standing in place as the ink pools around them.

They begin to sink into the puddle, dragged into darkness for a split second before emerging in the cozy living room of their apartment, ink swiftly vanishing beneath them.

Taking a cautious step toward the nearby couch, they gingerly take a seat, pausing to take a deep breath. They turn their attention to the coffee table before them, using their hand to slide a few objects to the side, making room for the letter nestled in their bag.

Pausing once more to collect themselves, they carefully unfasten their bag, delicately reaching inside to withdraw the envelope. They stare at it pensively, toying with the small sticker that sealed it, a tiny yet almost taunting obstacle. They smooth the envelope with a thumb, using one hand to slowly and meticulously peel off the sticker, careful not to rip the parchment

They feel lost in their own little world, with nothing but themselves and the letter existing within the tranquil room. Unfurling the page from the envelope, they place the latter on the couch alongside them before setting the sheet down on the cleared space of the coffee table.

Their eyelights graze over the page, reading its contents carefully. It reads,

Prim,

I've written this poem for you to convey the words I've struggled to say aloud. I’m sorry for not finding the courage to tell you in person. As an artist yourself, I'm sure you understand that sometimes it's easier to express our emotions through our work.

I understand if my feelings aren't mutual; I know this must have come as a shock to you.

I just hope this doesn't change anything between us.

Yours Always,

Lu

Below this, begins the poem,

On a canvas brimming with vibrant dreams,

Where colors mix and blend with gentle grace,

I've etched our story, yours and mine,

In shades, that time will embrace.

Your smile, a brush of vibrant hue,

Turns every moment into radiant light,

And in your eyes, I find the clues,

To ignite my soul with a beautiful sight.

Each day with you, a masterstroke,

A blend of joy and true elation,

Your laughter dispels the shadows,

Bestowing me a profound sensation.

From twilight’s glow to dawn’s first rays,

My love’s a spectrum rich and rare,

In every shade, in every phase,

You're a masterpiece beyond compare.

With every brush and every stroke,

I craft a world where we could be,

A place where dreams and hearts intertwine,

A canvas created for you and me.

So I ask now, with hopeful heart,

To step inside this vivid scene,

To share a life, to play a part,

Will you be my love, my dream?

Prim sits in stunned silence, reading and rereading the words, page blurring as they attempt to process what they've just read. Lu likes them. Actually likes them. It's hard to comprehend. Why would Lu choose someone like them when she could have anyone she wanted? Lu's affection felt like a dream, too surreal to grasp.

The confession weighs heavily on Prim's chest, butterflies fluttering in their stomach. They're at a loss for words, mind racing with questions and uncertainty, but also a strong feeling of excitement that they can't push down. Their face turns a deep shade of cyan, magenta, and yellow as the realization sinks in. Lu likes them, and they like her. The words of the poem echo in their mind, evoking a soft smile. Despite being alone they start to feel embarrassed by their reaction, prompting them to pull their scarf up to cover their blushing cheeks as they read through the page once again.

A panic settles in as Prim suddenly realizes that they need to respond to Lu's confession. What do they say to her? Nothing they could say would come even close to matching what she had written for them. They never had been the best at expressing their emotions. But… Lu needed that right now. She deserved a proper response from Prim.

No wonder she had been so nervous earlier, she had poured her heart out to the inky skeleton. She's probably feeling as anxious as Prim does right now, waiting for their response.

Well, better not keep her waiting any longer.

They cast a final gaze at the poem before rising to their feet, letting their scarf fall from their face. They secure their bag firmly over their shoulder, one of their hands clasped around its strap. With unwavering determination, they proceed, ignoring their nerves.

They begin the familiar routine of creating a portal, their foot swiping across the ground with a trail of ink following in its wake. The ink gathers at their feet, pulling them into the encompassing darkness.

Upon emerging, they find themselves standing outside The Star Sanses’ base, as well as Lu's home. The Omega Timeline bathes everything in the glow of starlight, casting the surrounding area in a celestial glow. After countless visits, the building's layout is etched into their memory, allowing them to easily locate Lu's room from the outside, even in the darkness.

After a brief walk, they arrive at Lu's window, gazing up to get a glance at it. They can see her curtains partially drawn, revealing a few of her plants resting on the windowsill. Their nerves intensify as they turn their attention to the tall tree adjacent to her window. Taking a deep nervous breath, they begin the familiar climb. Despite having done this many times before, the weight of the moment makes their movements feel awkward and slow, taking longer than usual to ascend the tree.

Eventually, they settle on a sturdy branch, close enough to reach Lu's window. They pause for a moment, trying to calm their anxiety before tentatively tapping on the window and leaning back, waiting for Lu to open it.

Moments later, they catch a glimpse of Lu's face peeking through the curtains, her eyelights meeting theirs. Despite the dim lighting, her deep blush is unmistakable. With a soft click, the window unlocks and slides open, revealing Lu's head as she peeks through to see them clearly.

“What are you doing out here?” She asks, her voice filled with unease, a nervous expression on her face.

“Me too,” Prim responds quickly, their cheeks darkening as the words leave their mouth, realizing that their statement didn't quite make sense.

“...What?” Lu asks after a pause, her head tilted slightly in confusion, a slight laugh heard in her tone.

"I mean— I read the poem. Me too. I, um, I feel the same,” Prim stammers, avoiding Lu's gaze, turning their face away and tugging their scarf over their cheeks once more.

“Oh,” She breathes, surprise evident in her voice. There's another moment of silence, broken only by the chirping of the crickets and the rustle of the wind.

The air feels tight as the silence sits between them, Prim's soul pounding anxiously in their chest. They're starting to wonder if it was a bad idea coming here. What if they misunderstood the situation? What if they just messed everything up?

Gently, Lu's hand takes hold of Prim's arm, snapping them out of their thoughts; they timidly look up, finding Lu's gentle smile waiting for them. Prim feels the blush on their face deepen and forces themselves to not look away. It's hard to gauge her expression as Prim searches her face, but she doesn't appear to be upset. Lu tugs on their arm, and Prim understands the unspoken message. With Lu's help, they slowly make their way through the window and into her bedroom, landing softly on her carpet.

The silence doesn't last much longer once Prim is inside. Lu's expression is soft and adoring as she delicately takes Prim's hands, their eyelights meeting in a moment of quiet connection.

“...Really?” She asks, her voice gentle and hopeful. The look on her face leaves Prim feeling flustered, wondering how they had gotten so lucky. Prim nods, struggling to find the words, their throat tightening. Lu's smile widens.

“I want to hear you say it out loud, though,” Lu playfully pouts, her affectionate expression coaxing the words out of Prim. They feel like they'd do anything, as long as she continued to look at them like that.

“Yeah. Yeah, I, uhm…I like you. I have for a while now,” Prim responds, their voice slightly shaky. Lu's smile grows impossibly wider, her eyelights fuzzy at the edges, glistening with tears of joy.

“Will you be my partner, Prim?” Lu asks, her voice filled with hope and excitement.

“I'd like that,” Prim replies easily, their face flushed, gazing back at Lu with the same adoration.

“Cool,” She responds with a wet giggle, using one hand to wipe happy tears from her eye sockets.

“Cool,” Prim repeats, with a similarly elated expression. They gently replace Lu's hand with theirs, wiping the tears from her face. The two of them stay like that for a moment, silent, until Lu speaks again.

“May I..?” She asks, face flushed, eyelights flicking down to their mouth. Prim nods, and Lu leans in.

Yeah, coming here had been the right decision after all.

[moistotaltrashmammal]

Hi and Welcome to: My poorly formatted argument for L being an INTJ.

(No spoilers, also posted on Personality Database.)

Ni- While L may entertain multiple possibilities, his rational analysis usually leads him to a singular conclusion. Once he reaches a decision, he sinks his teeth in and never lets go. He concluded who Kira was from the beginning, and no amount of emotional arguing ever changes his mind. In fact, when it seemed like there was even a possibility of him being wrong, he claimed to be depressed and unmotivated. Even when it seems as though surface level-evidence proves one thing, he follows his intuition when the "proof" fails to convince him of anything else.

Te- L is blunt and borderline tactless. He states facts and rational with little to no regard for how he comes across to other people. He is also not above using emotional manipulation if it means reaching his goal. In fact, as stated, L is not one to be persuaded in his logic in the slightest until empirical evidence presented to him convinces him to do so. He tends to like people who are useful and not "irrational," AKA not Matsuda.

Fi- Despite all of this, L does follow an internal moral code. It is shown to be internal because he shows little regard for outside established morals and the law itself; he wasn't above using torture, which is frowned upon in most cases. L tends to also push boundaries quite a bit, making those around him uncomfortable to the point where they refuse to continue working with him. It is heavily implied that L has his own internal definition of justice and kindness (examples could be found in the novels.) He has very few people in his inner circle, such as Watari; he never truly lets anyone else in, if we're only talking about the anime. He's also not very expressive; L hardly ever talks about how he's feeling, and in general seems to be very stoic until he's caught off-guard. He also profiled Kira by comparing his own personality to that of Kira himself; very Fi.

Se- Despite how he appears, L is quite strong and athletic. He was once the British Junior Tennis Champion, a feat obviously requiring an above average athletic skill. He's also adept at martial arts, able to introduce his foot into someone's face while still being handcuffed to them. His diet consists of almost entirely sweet foods, and he indulges with little regard to decorum. He also cares little for his outer appearance; he wears worn clothes, sits in an odd position, has his hair uncut (or maybe he likes it like that idk), and for some reason doesn't wear shoes instead of just getting fucking sandals.

There are also a few incidental reasons such as:

1) His and Light's personalities are often compared to eachother, I find it hard to think of anything other than the similarities between ENTJ/INTJ.

2) Alessandro Juliani's (dub) performance has this cadence and smoothness I often see in fictional characters who could be categorized as INTJ (trait of Se...?)

3) INTP's are often seen as charming to those around them. While L is beloved by the audience, he is instead seen as off-putting by other characters around him. Those people are wrong; L is the most adorable thing to ever grace this planet with his presence and they should be THANKFUL—wait where was I going?

I'd like to thank @pennyblossom-meta for giving me the inspiration to write this post, her L analysis is to die for. I also credit @funkymbtifiction for basically being my source for personality analysis growing up.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Tedtalk BYYYE✨✨✨

[arcticwolfpaws]

Chapter 9: Father's love

here's your link lovelys!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56481082/chapters/143531686

P.O.V: Bruce Wayne.

I had just finished a meeting when I look at my phone, I was expecting a call from Alfred telling me that he was home with the boys, instead what I saw was a missed call from Jason, as soon as I got another call from Jason.

“Jason?” I asked as I picked up the call, he sounded out of breath as he spoke and I could hear the concern in his voice.

“I can’t find Faraj. I went to talk to his little Friend from the Gala but they haven’t seen him since lunch.” He stated, I felt my heart sink. Had I done something wrong? Had he run away? I worried, “Shit.” It was soft but I knew it was Jason, I stepped into my office.

“Jason? What’s going on?” I asked feeling the panic starting to rise, despite that I took a deep breathe, I couldn’t panic no matter how much I wanted to. I had to keep my head on straight he was a kid and if he was trained like I suspected then he wasn’t going to be hurt without a fight.

“I just found Faraj’s backpack… Kinda looks like someone kicked it.” He had mumbled the last part and I heard the fluttering of paper and the sound of the plastic glasses case on the concrete.

“Is there any sign he was hurt?” I asked as I paced around my office, the pause that followed made my heart sink but Jason spoke again.

“No, there’s no blood nothing that suggest… odd.” He trailed off, I sighed heavily before shaking my head, I knew that didn’t mean a lot drugs wouldn’t have left a trace of a struggle. “Is Croc out of Arkham?” I was jerked back to the call by Jason’s question.

“Yes I believe he is, we’ll see if he’s turned over a new leaf.” with my statement Jason hummed, “I’ll be down to the school in fifteen.” I told him hanging up before calling Alfred, he was quick to pick up but sounded a bit winded.

“Hello sir, I was just about to pick up the boys.” I nodded at his statement giving the phone a soft smile.

“Thank you Alfred, however something came up and I’ll be handling it today.” There was a pause after I spoke before Alfred cleared his throat.

“Did something with Faraj?” He asked sounding suddenly worried and I sighed, of course he’d figure it out after all Alfred always could read me like an open book.

“Yes.” as short as my answer was Alfred knew me well, as I stepped into my car and turned it on my phone was switched to the radio.

“I suspect that this isn’t a simple fight.” He stated I sighed before shaking my head before remembering I couldn’t be seen.

“I wish it was that simple,” I stated, and with that I hung up as I pulled up a teacher stood looking nervous, Jason was be leaning on a wall his arms crossed I was hopping that he had some more information on what happened.

“Mr, Wayne.” She stated I nodded not thinking there was much going on with it however she started to speak again. “You’re youngest… We had a problem some… boys seemed to have carried him off..” She sounded worried but I perked up someone knew what happened to my son. How ever knowing that other kids were involved worried me,

“Boys?” I asked and she seemed ti wince before clearing her throat,

“Yes Sir, they have been pulled aside and the police have been called, The camera's show the four boys carrying your son off school grounds and coming back without him.” I felt my anger rise, Had they handed him to someone? Had my imposer shown up and taken him? I took a deep breathe, I had to stay calm even if calm was the last thing I felt. I frowned at the women,

“I was made aware that I was missing a child,” I stated nodding to Jason, she looked nervous and turned starting to walk inside.

“Please follow me.” I followed her waving Jason to follow as well, as we passed the principles office I saw the 4 boys sitting there heads down, I was quick to note that one of them had a cast on his wrist. This had been planned this was revenge wasn’t it. I frowned at the thought but shook it away quickly as I stepped into the office, I spoke before the principle could.

“And what are you going to do to prevent this in the future?” my tone was sharp, I didn’t take the safety of my charges lightly and the school knew this as I had been through something like this with Jason except that Jay could and had fought back and made enough noise to get someones attention.

“I well more camera’s for one.” They stated quickly I raised a brow, “And of course we’ll have more then one teacher at the gates to ensure this doesn't happened again.” I nodded that was better, beyond that I’d have to talk to Faraj.

“That’s a start, but I’ll be speaking to the cops about this if I find my son has been injured.” I informed him and he nodded swallowing hard he spoke.

“Of course and they have been called, the commissioner said he was going to come out himself as this involved one of your boys.” I nodded at that before walking outside and waiting on them. I was pacing Jason was leaned against the wall, I should be out there looking for him, I needed to find him… my son… Jim’s personal car pulled up and I looked up as another cop car stopped as well 3 more drove past and seemed to be spreading out. I stopped as Jim stepped out and walked up to us.

“Mr, Wayne we’ll find you’re son, I’m going to go inside and talk to the boys and see what they know.” I nodded he started to walk past and I had to speak up letting him know what I had noticed.

“Faraj had gotten into a bit of a fight previously and broke a boys wrist I’m worried this is some kind of revenge.” I stated, And I heard Jim sigh heavily,

“I’ll look into it.” He stated before walking out of sight the other officer trailing him. I had things to do and I needed to get Jason home, I sighed I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to find him and we still had a few hours before dark and I wanted to look for him myself.

“We can go.” Jason stated and I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose, “I can start looking, I might be able to find him faster then-” I raised my hand and he stopped talking.

“We’ll see, right now I need to get you home and you need to get you homework done.” I stated firmly as I lead him to the car opening the passenger door, I sighed as I closed it once he was in, I wasn’t leaving him, I’d come back do my own look, I told myself as I got in the car.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

When we were half way back I got the first call from Jim, Jason was quick to pick it up for me while I kept my eyes on the road.

“Jim, Have you found him.” There was a heavy sigh and a long pause, my stomach dropped as my mind cycled to the worst out comes, he was murdered or those boys had essentially sold him to someone like the joker for some sick experiment.

“Those boys managed to pry open a man hole cover…. They said they wanted to scare him that they knew croc was in Arkham.” I was quiet, that was a hell of a lot better then what I was thinking, Waylon had never hurt a child before and I didn’t think he’d start with Faraj. Jason seemed to pick up on the same thing and relaxed himself.

“They did what?” I was still angry depending on how he was thrown in he could have been hurt badly, However I knew if he was all I had to do was ask Waylon.

“I have my man looking but all we found under the man hole was some blood.” My heart sank again, I hoped he wasn’t badly hurt but the fact that he wasn’t there told me that he’d either wandered off likely in a daze and blindly or that Waylon had found and taken him.

“I want charges pressed.” I stated not leaving room for argument, I doubted I would get any however, I knew fully well if it had been Barbra he would have done the same thing.

“Already done,” He stated and shook his head. “At the very least I hope to scare those boys straight.” I caught the implied but if he’s badly hurt it could be much worse for them. Any other day even with Jason I hadn’t pushed for action with Jason or Dick as they had Handled it themselves. Four boys… Faraj was fairly small I couldn’t Imagine how intimidating that might have been for him.

“Good,” I was going to add more but there was some shouting and Jim sighed before speaking.

“I have to go.” He hung up quickly, I sighed and Jason spoke in an almost small voice,

“I gave him ear plugs… maybe if I hadn’t he’d have heard them sneak up on him.” I frowned and shook my head before speaking,

“I don’t think that would have changed much Jason, there were four of them and even if one of them wasn’t doing anything he’s still smaller then all of them. Even if he has training I wouldn’t expect him to be able to take more then two of them out before the other two caught him.” I stated but I could tell it was little comfort to him, I sighed Alfred was waiting and had opened the door as we walked up to it he frowned after he didn’t see Faraj.

“Where is the young master?” I took a deep breathe,

“Jason home work.” I told him and watched him walk off, “A group of boys pulled open a man hole cover and threw him in.” I wasn’t sure how Alfred would react but he very quickly didn't look pleased.

“Those roughens,” He scoffed, “Should I start dinner? Or will you and master Jason be looking for Master Faraj?” His question brought up a good point I didn’t know how long it would take to find the albino, if he was scared he might not listen to anyone… not even batman… I paused I had to think about that for a long moment. How did I want to handle this?

“I… I don’t know, I might have to call, Clark or Diana. They won’t be as intimidating to him.” If I ended up resorting to that then I’d have to find some way to explain to Faraj and the rest of Gotham why they were here. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up at Alfred,

“We will find him, He doesn’t know the city well if he has made it out of the sewer he is likely looking for something familiar and safe if he sees a cop he is likely to try and speak to them.” He pointed out, and hearing someone else say that soothed my nerves a little.

“Jim has half the force out looking by now, an eleven year old who doesn’t know the streets well is bound to find trouble…. That in mind please do start dinner, I’d like him to come home to a warm meal and a safe bed.” I stated and Alfred nodded walking past me to the kitchen, Once I was alone again the worry started to creep up again, I knew he wasn’t sold but if he walked into the jokers gang, I sighed heavily I didn’t really want to do it but calling Harley might be the best thing that I could do, That was If she was staying true to her word and staying away from the joker. I started to pace again, the last thing I wanted was to put him at risk. I was holding my phone when it started ringing Lucius Fox the caller I.D read, I sighed shaking my head as I picked it up.

“What’s up?” I asked and there was a long pause, before Lucius spoke.

“Well I was going to say I finished that sonar gear you wanted however you sound… Stressed?” I sighed, it was good to know that the sonar was working but that wasn’t my concern right now,

“That boy that I was telling you about… He ran into some trouble.” I started and took a deep breathe, “And I’m starting to doubt that he has extensive training like I thought before.” There was a pause and something shuffling in the back ground.

“But… the Al ghouls wouldn’t have left there child to be raised by someone else would they?” He asked and I paused thinking, There was no way in hell that Talia would let someone raise her child, I knew her well enough to know that she’d see him as the next head of the family however… Ra’s wouldn’t, He’d see the Albinism as a flaw a genetic impurity.

“I don’t think it was a choice Talia made.” at that statement more things felt like they clicked into places, Faraj had called his care giver Willson, the only Willson I knew of that might end up with a child getting mauled…

“I think I’ll be visiting Slade tonight.” I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of that sooner, If Slade raised him it made sense he would have some level of training but not enough to handle four opponents at once.

“Slade?” Lucius asked and I hummed softly,

“He might be able to tell me more about my son, things he wont tell me.” I had paused to let Fox give his two sense but I started getting another call, “I have to go Jim’s calling me.” I told him hanging up before he could reply. “Bruce here.” I stated as I picked up Jim’s call,

“Mr Wayne, We found you’re son he’s being brought to my office as we speak.” I breathed a sigh of relief, he was safe. I needed to get him still but he’d be safe with Jim.

“I’ll be there right away.” I stated hanging up as I grabbed my keys I paused and circled back to tell Alfred what was happening, he was chopping vegetables when I walked in,

“Alfred they found him, I-” He cut me off as he started making a shoe motion,

“Go retrieve him sir,” He insisted, before getting back to the cooking I sighed and headed out before heading to the car.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

As I pulled up to the station my head lights shined on Jim who was out smoking, I shut the engine off and stepped out.

“Is he alright?” I felt silly for asking seeing as If he wasn’t I would have been told to meet him at the hospital, Even still Jim was very calm about it all.

“Yes, He’s a sleep in my office right now, had one of the medic look at him, he’s got a decent goose egg but he’s not concussed.” He stated and I sighed nodding, “He was also willing to confirm the boys who threw him into the sewer.” He added, I was glad to know he wasn’t going to lie about that. Gordon started to walk and I followed him,

“That’s good,” I mumbled, if he had been trained by Slade I wondered if he was even scared while he was down there.

“You might want to see about replacing his glasses as the ones he has right now are pretty badly cracked and one of the arms broke.” I nodded it was better to have broken glasses. As we got to Gordon’s office I spotted the thin blanket laid over the boy, I knelt next to him and tried to pick him up, he slowly woke up squinting at me as he tried to register what was going on.

“Hmmm, Dad?” He mumbled clearly not fully awake but my heart warmed hearing him call me that.

“Shhh, go back to sleep Faraj I’ll carry you.” I told him softly as I picked up, he whined softly not fully awake, “I best get him home.” I told Gordon softly, as I made sure Faraj’s head was on my shoulder, Gordon nodded and held the door for me as I carried him out, as we got under the bright light he tried to hid his face in my shoulder, I tried my best to move quickly as I tried to let him sleep. I set him in the car and Gordon closed the car door and spoke,

“Those boys are in quite a bit of trouble. However… I would like to know how he managed to walk all the way here and remain unnoticed but I couldn’t get him to tell me.” I nodded before taking a breathe,

“I’ll see about asking him but a doubt I’ll get anything beyond dumb luck.” I didn’t actaully know if he’d tell me about Waylon if he met him. However that would wait until he was settled back in at home.

“Of course. I’ll let you be on your way.” I nodded at Gordon’s words as I got in, Faraj didn’t move at first and when he did I saw those pale blue eyes peaking out of the blanket at me, I guess that despite my efforts the lights had fully woken him up,

“Are you alright?” I asked as I turned the engine on, he paused for a long moment and let out a heavy breathe.

“Mostly, I cut my head and broke my glasses.” I had been warned about the glasses and as I came to a stop I reached out and put my hand under his chin pulling it up to stop him from trying to look at the ground,

“This wasn’t your fault, I wouldn’t ever have excepted you to fight 4 boy on your own even if you can fight and those boys were bigger then you, one of them looked like he was a class above you.” I told him as the light changed I brought my hand back to the wheel, he didn’t drop his head I watched from the corner of my eye as he watched me,

“I did make a friend today.” I smiled even as he spoke softly, It was good to hear he could make friends that he had some social skills,

“Glad to hear it who are they? Is it possibly that young man you were talking to at the Gala?” I asked, I had to pull more of my attention to the road,

“Well, that’s one of them. But the other’s named Janie… she didn’t have lunch today.” he stated I frowned hearing that I’d talk to Alfred I didn’t think a child should go hungry.

“Well, I’ll have Alfred make you a spare lunch.” I told him the conversation seeming to come to it’s natural conclusion, and the car filling with soft road noise before we got caught in traffic, Batman was going to be out late tonight, I sighed and glanced over at him again Wrapped up in the thin blanket, I never thought I would have a child it was one thing when Dick and Jason needed me, I was there ward not there father I can’t replace there fathers. But I was his father he had no one else to learn from and right now? He looked so small to me, So innocent it made me wonder even more how Jason’s father could have been so cruel. The ride was mostly quiet and due to traffic it took us another hour to get home.

The manor only had a few lights on but I was still well aware then Alfred had dinner waiting, as we walked in Jason was by the stairs and he perked up seeing us.

“Faraj!” He chirped I stepped aside and let Jason get a good look, but I had noticed when Jason had yelled that Faraj had flinched, had that been due to the sound? Was that something I needed to worry about? I took a breathe and decided that I would ask Jason if he noticed that as well.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Bat files

James (Jim) Gordon

Date of birth: November 19th

Job: Police commissioner

Jim is a good man and a better cop having worked hard to handle the corruption within the G.C.P.D, I trust the man with my life and If I thought it was a good idea h would know how was under the cowl but now more then ever I feel it’s better the less people know the better however his daughter is well aware, I might have to ask for her to help me keep an eye on Faraj.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

saw we were sharing curtis bros stuff so i figured i’d join in on the fluff haha

When Darry was twelve and Pony was six he was pushing Pony on the swings and Pony kept asking him to “Push me higher Darry!” and he would….until Pony flipped over the top of the swingset and landed on his face. Darry was FREAKING out and was like “Pony?! Pony are you alright?!” and Pony sits up with this gigantic smile (which is now missing one of his front teeth) and was just going “Again, again!”

Pony learned guitar from his dad and Darry learned piano from his mom. Post book Darry teaches Pony piano and Pony teaches Darry guitar. It’s a binding activity they share

Pony sings in the shower. One time Soda heard and he started singing along and Pony screamed at the top of his lungs and pelted Soda with a hairbrush

Whenever Darry or Soda gets a hefty paycheck they go to this steakhouse place that lets you eat however much you want as a way to celebrate

Soda was real mad when Pony was born because he wasnt an actual pony and Soda told all his friends he was having a pony as a baby brother (he asked if they could recycle Pony

One time while cleaning the attic the Curtises found old tapes and photo books of them as babies and kids and they spend the rest of the day watching the videos and looking at old pictures abd bringing up old memories (tears were shed but they won’t admit it)

Darry is the only one allowed to tickle Pony out of bed because one time Soda did it (it’s a process, he starts with somewhere Pony isn’t too ticklish and they escalate) but Soda went STRAIGHT for Pony’s ribs and Pony laughed so hard he threw up

Hope these are good lol

HI! I LOVE ALL OF THESE!!!!!

To add a few:

Ponyboy definitely learned to walk late because he was the youngest and had two doting parents and two adoring older brothers + the rest of the gang so he spent the first two years of his life being carried EVERYWHERE so he didn't feel the need to walk

Soda plays the 'drums'- basically just taps on the furniture and annoys Pony and Darry- when they're practicing piano and guitar respectively, and they have literally chased him out of the house because of it

All three Curtis brothers tilt their heads slightly when they're confused. Sometimes it makes two-bit snicker because he'll say something odd while they're all on the couch and they look kind of cartoonish when they do it in unison

Darry likes nice cologne (as nice as they can afford anyway) and guards his small collection VICIOUSLY

Soda and Steve always make really lewd jokes around Ponyboy because they think its funny how red he gets

Two-bit sometimes swaps out Darry's morning newspaper with nudie mags whenever he sees it on the porch or in the mailbox and Darry is convinced it's Steve and Soda who are doing it, no matter how much they protest. Two-bit gleefully watches the chaos and keeps his mouth shut

Thanks for the ask xx

[lanshappycorner]

Malledu🐉♠️ doodles

[emdotcom]

My infatuation & subsequent obsession with media is often tied to the ways in which I am incapable of talking about them. Whether it's because of the abhorrent contents therein which demand too much; the incomprehensible nature of my feelings on the matter; the shoddy & underbaked construction; no matter what, there is always something within all my beloved interests make them hard (or even impossible) to talk about. Instead, I talk within myself in an endless echo of speculation & alteration, as a means to replicate the sounds of a room that is not so empty. I, on my own, (no matter how many of me I am in the moment,) will never be able to fully encapsulate the sounds of a room brimming with people, though, so I double down & try to chatter more, to make up my impossible deficit.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[truthundressing]

the longer ive had to stew on it the more i am actually worried abt harry's fanbase