#rich cards rich snippets

[luvdalkxdlk]

ZZZ 1.6: MY ROMAN EMPIRE OF TWO LINES

OK, before I go to absolute spoil, know that this will contain the latest spoilers for the main story, about crownwolf, about them, about their whole story, about them.

Yeah, I said them twice. Note that if you haven't done 1.6 yet and don't want to be spoiled (you shouldn't, you should experience the awesomeness for yourself), then please do not read further than the spoiler line. Just know, if you have done the whole 1.6, that this is essentially 'in this essay, I will-' with a bit of fic format but in snippets because I'm relying on pure memory and I just cannot go back to their cutscenes (I might have lied) just to care about lore accuracy because we are all biased rose tinted fans and all my speculations will reflect that, so be it.

So yeah you would see one way for me to write a nice little snippet but then I will stop 'coz I have no idea how to continue it and move on to another. Makes it so that I don't write a whole-ass fic. Also, there would be bracketed words, for hear me outs.

Also I have liberty in this fic, so let me cook~

"I will stop you, I always will." [Literally what Lycaon told Hugo, and I swear that and Hugo's response were my gay roman empire. Because this sentence might not mean only their present, but their past and also the very future. It could be the central theme to what Lycaon's relationship with Hugo is, and in this essay, I will-]

Lycaon would always admire and respect Jack, but life hadn't truly started for him until Hugo came into his life. Maybe because Hugo was of similar age, a person Lycaon could befriend simply out of kinship, out of circumstances, out of the fact that they were two lonely boys under one mentor figure going about their ways. Maybe because nothing really started until Hugo came along, rescued by them both, seen once more the unfairness of the world and Hugo wanted to do something about it.

It wasn't that Lycaon didn't want to do something either, that he helped Jack out for the lost and the sick, in rescues and so forth but it wasn't until Hugo that they started having missions, started to veer away from the truly just into the grayer lesser evil to pluck away the greater evil. Of phantom thievery that the old civilization once fantasized and looked up to, for the tenants of robbing the rich and giving to the poor, of striking fear into the heart with a calling card, engage in battle within acts of deception and trickery and then giving out, in their own way making the world a better place. Rooting off the true evil that plagued this world.

Doing all that, bounded by principles as they never take away lives and live by their creed. In this way alone, he was glad that Hugo came into his life and kickstarted something Lycaon could never dream of, with a steadfast partner as thick as thieves. Back then, he thought it would always be like this.

But then again, there had always been signs that things would end, one ignored sign at a time.

Lycaon would absorb Jack's teachings like a sponge, even when irritably, Hugo would pick it up faster, do it better and dare mock him about it such as terrible acting and all the 'mistakes' he made. There were no regrets stopping his high horse and kicking down the chairs he dramatically likes to step up on in an imaginary spotlight of his own making.

And yet, even when Hugo picked things up faster, Hugo would not absorb everything. Unlike Lycaon who takes Jack by his word, Hugo would question what Lycaon understood as opposition to evil. To question about never taking away lives no matter the circumstances. Even during their missions, there were bold, reckless and questionable things that Hugo would do, that Lycaon would stop short and for all Hugo would call his flawless performance, that Lycaon could only concede because somehow, some way, everything Hugo had done would fall perfectly in place, they were something of consequence that Lycaon would hope his closest friend wouldn't fall into, something dark and dangerous.

In the far future, a statement from that once closest friend, that Lycaon never fully trusted Hugo even before they had their fallout. Was it really? Even so, when? When those two had been the only ones they had each other for, even with Jack and especially after Jack?

Had Lycaon's trust shattered a little just because Jack pulled him aside and warned about Hugo's darkness, that Lycaon being the closest could restrain him, leash him... even choke him away from the darkness?

Had Hugo noticed the potentially shattered trust after Jack's death, when they created the name Mockingbird and created an oath right there and then out of Lycaon's insistence, out of insistence that the oath should never be broken?

But was it because Hugo had an inkling whether Lycaon would never fully trust Hugo like Hugo wouldn't himself potentially that the day it all ended, that Mockingbird fell out, in Lycaon's supposedly own terms, when trust is broken and things were too much.

There were times, of that fateful day, when signs were ignored blinded by the trust thick as thieves they still believed to have, that Lycaon wondered about the precautions he could make, the fact he could have looked out for Hugo, anything. But that day, that he did want to make precautions, did want to at least check on Hugo, that Hugo had always picked things up a little faster than Lycaon, that he went off on his own, that Lycaon was played to prevent stopping Hugo, to have reconsiderations, and when Lycaon, in his heart, wondered whether he was simply expecting the worst...

It didn't stop his surprise at the bloody scene, and both their shattered hearts. And the words spoken out in despair and betrayal. Of broken oaths and turning tail.

It would be hard to say, one suppose but when the two finally reunited in their separated paths finally converging to one once more, he would be reminded all that, reminsced all that and maybe wonder a little.

"I will stop you, I always will."

Lycaon made that firm statement, in reminder and in slight regret. Always almost felt like a lie, but if only because he would always be met with some equally stubborn, of unstoppable force meets immovable object. They both never hesitated, they both stayed steadfast to their principles and could not be moved by arguments, beyond reason which they could very well insult each other over.

But when Hugo was once more pushed back by Lycaon, even with the exasperated Proxy watching them fight for simply very little reason even at first sight, why his statement will stubbornly remained true. Lycaon made mistakes, his failures left with a broken dynamic he wouldn't even dream to have back, even if he might wish it only because things had been too broken to ever have it back. Hugo had always been faster and smarter than Lycaon but even now Lycaon can overpower him, that where speeds and wits were Hugo's, strength would be Lycaon's.

It was what he would always take advantage over Hugo. It was why he will always stop him.

But then Hugo jumped over the ledge, his classic phantom thief move of a getaway and even if he was tasked to pursue Hugo, it would take a long time to get back at his elusive enemy.

So, never in a million years would he have ever thought that Hugo would call for Lycaon's help in an operation with a seemingly common goal. It was unexpected, and he decided he simply wanted to go for Hugo to answers. Of course he will deny the stalking and found it nice that they could actually have an amicable conversation without drawn weapons, which Lycaon would like to point out that Hugo started first with thrown suitcases. Fighting back would always be the appropriate response when he was like that, letting him have the first move otherwise only a shortcut to his own victory.

In that time, until the very end, the whole operation would strike Lycaon odd.

Why would Hugo want to invite the traitor back, even as Hugo had his reasonable explanation about conceeding Lycaon's presence in exchange for the Proxy's cooperation? If that was truly what happened, that the Proxy had insisted and Hugo reluctantly conceeded, Lycaon could understand.

He did not understand, that Hugo made the first move, suggesting Lycaon of his own volition as he heard from the Proxy's side of the story and that even 'Lycaon's presence alone could keep him in check.'

Something right of course, as great partners now foes but also something that Lycaon wouldn't expect the prideful Hugo to admit, to make the first move to bring Lycaon into the occassion with the minute possibility that Lycaon's presence might not even be needed by the Proxy.

They were cooperating again, even as bitter ex-partners under shared goal, although he felt like he knew Hugo well enough that there was more than meets the eye. It was why he tried to notice, throughout the operation where he hoped this time that he would picked it up faster. That whatever Hugo was scheming, no oaths would be broken.

And yet, it was only until the very end that he noticed anything amiss. When he left Hugo with the Proxy, knowing that the Proxy was a person of interest to Hugo and with Vivian coming along, that Hugo would plant something to the Proxy.

The only reason that he would allow this was a naive hope, where he had stated:

"Any path that causes you pain is the wrong one."

Wishing then for a painless one, for oaths to no longer be broken. For all the accusations that Hugo had thrown at him, Lycaon could simply throw back but instead of the viritol hatred and lashing sadness it may be, it came from the 'disgusting sympathies' Hugo so despises.

And yet, Hugo was, is, a friend even when he has become a sworn enemy for how dangerous, formidable and unpredictable he truly is. The Proxy had always been the kind of person with fellow allies that manages to bring the best out of each and every one of them. The person with a relationship to family different from what Hugo would ever tell him, and something that Hugo could benefit from... even a little.

Leaving Hugo alone with the Proxy for that reason alone, naive hope indeed but hope he also wanted to confirm with his very own ears so forgive him if his 'you-know-what' skills had been put into use just for precaution's sake. It would be loathed to make the same mistake twice after all.

And even if Hugo did catch on to that, something he certainly will as they were cut from the same cloth, taught from the same mentor, Hugo let Lycaon hear, even when the Proxy would never know. And such statement... such dramatic plot right in a climax with red flags towards the next event...

He was then angered but not unsurprised by Hugo's 'betrayal'. The only reason Lycaon could now most certainly finger quote that was because Hugo revealed his Mockingbird status to Hartman Ravenlock, of all people.

That much would be obvious when Hugo did his dramatic movie spiel and revealed about being Mockingbird, in front of Hartman casually even when there was a reason they remained elusive to this day. But there was no way Hugo would reveal himself as Mockingbird that easily, to someome that can easily undo everything he worked for, with all the elusiveness he maintained over the years.

There was no way Hugo Vlad Ravenlock would reveal any type of weakness to the family he so despised.

It was almost amazing how he put everything out in the open, loudly and boldly and insanely. To statements that Lycaon dare not believe, to the battle that had played out.

A battle that was less blowing off steam, more... about a downward spiral, ideologies clashed once more and insanity rearing its head. An act of madness so perfect to send chills down Lycaon's spine.

An act, perfect as the mistakeless Hugo, could make of it.

Anyone else would never notice, but Lycaon wasn't Hugo's best partner for the heck of it. And all the skills and experiences he underwent throughout various missions with Hugo wouldn't go for naught.

Their missions, in the name of Mockingbird, had always been acts. As far as Lycaon knows, Hugo favoured the dramatic, the foreshadowing points easily missed by their targets only for the slow and steady reveal to crumble upon their enemies and make them realize their folly, only until its too late.

And yet foreshadowings, if looked well and hard enough, would also be enough to signal said partner into what happens next, the roles that Lycaon was told he made mistakes in and thus needed help with so Hugo would help him, for their mutual benefit...

And after so long, even when they were reluctantly meeting back together, cooperating bitterly, Lycaon would never miss out a mission's flow, even to the very end.

He would not miss what he could easily read in Hugo's battle style, their bickering conversations and the traps laid out. Even when Lycaon could never be sure about what he could trust of Hugo, he knows his past well enough, with their very audience of high-class people, in intrigue and deception, what Hugo wanted him to presently do.

A little last vengeance, stubborness to crack Lycaon's steady principles but really because...

It doesn't matter whether they run away or forget, their past cannot be erased. And for all that Lycaon felt bitter, regretful and remorseful, he could never hate Hugo, a friend he just wanted to stop throwing himself into the darkness. So he kept reading the cues, if not trusting Hugo then at least trusting Hugo's own steadfast principles even if they were so different from Lycaon's.

"My blade is steady. I would never point my weapon at an ally, especially you."

Something Hugo had told the Proxy, who was now pointing a blade at the very neck.

"I would never betray my companions."

Even when that was what Hugo was exactly doing, goading for a reaction specifically Lycaon's. Purposefully. For all audience to see, friends... and foes alike.

'To fool the enemies, first fool the friends.'

And yet, even so, Lycaon could only see red because as much as he knew Hugo, how much could he trust Hugo? When he left Hugo, for that very reason, when-

"He's inherited the seed of evil. Do not let it take root. When the time comes, promise me that you will chain him, restrain him and..."

Lycaon would never hesitate, when Hugo wouldn't either. Something that Hugo would very well know, in the feral instincts that somehow cannot be suppressed in Hugo's presence, he had reached for Hugo's neck, pushing the Proxy out of the way safely, and-

"... choke him."

How could Hugo laugh and smile at a time like this, dangling above the roof? Goading Lycaon, as he noticed the subtle sweep in the eyes and communicating once more eye-to-eye that only the best of partners once could and be unheard of by others.

"The only one to save me or kill me... has always been myself."

But what really sealed the deal was the Mockingbird sigil over Hugo's chest, shining brightly as they both looked down on it for a mere second unnoticed by anyone.

"How about... 'Mockingbird'? It's a bird known for mimicking calls to blend in. The same way we don high society roles for ourselves when we are out on a mission.'

The same way they are donning this frankly close-to-home bitter ex-partners as definite enemies where the next part to choking someone and dangling them off the roof would require no brainer to anyone spectating this scene in an outside perspective.

An outside perspective that wouldn't know Hugo and Lycaon well enough to know whatever happens next would most certainly be a ruse.

It was why Lycaon took the bait, let the audience see what they wanted and carried out the act.

Dramatically coughing blood with a smile as he threw Hugo off the roof in a suspiciously well-timed fissure of a Hollow just being right underneath them, where no one would bother the goose chase of finding a 'corpse' that could turn into an Ethereal by the time they finished such a maze. It was why Hollows made good body dumping parts.

Why it was a good place to fake death. Hugo always did like Hollows for go-to methods in escapes and acts. Favoring the reckless, the bold and the gambit.

There was a reason why Mockingbird remains elusive to this day. How many fake death scenes did people think that this particular duo went through if their disguises were dangerously close to revealing the truth? Fans would be surprised.

"It's impossible for Hugo to be alive. My hand went through his heart."

The lies slipped in for the sake of any audience listening in, never letting guard down for a second and solidifying an act, as grand as any. And yet, anyone who knew Hugo and Lycaon well enough. Who knew Mockingbird the phantom thieves well enough...

It was a piece of fiction, back in the old civilization and every media of them had something that earned the admiration of both Hugo and Lycaon back then, something they aspire to be in every sense of the word.

People who have overcome the impossible. So impossible can only mean something different in the context of Hugo.

So it was that very reason that Lycaon had no trouble playing along, because his principles will always remain unbroken. Because no life had yet been taken. Because there will always be lies but at the same time, certain things that cannot be lied about. Such as Hugo and Lycaon's very own skills, the little tricks such as a simple tracking device over the Sacrifice Core belatedly realized to be weaseled away by Hartman when everyone was enraptured by their scene.

Hugo's own goading had really only been a dare, to play along, that somethings will never change when Hugo had always picked things up faster and thus for Lycaon only to follow. For the very next scene of the act, their to be continued.

Unlike the last time though, he would not run away. He would see this to the very end, and this time, no oath would be broken.

Because Lycaon will stop him. He always will.

Whether it was the root of evil, breaking oaths or becoming the abyss. Because there is always a narrow light Hugo could still go back to.

This time, he would prepare, this time he would take those precautions. This time, he would win. For the both of them.

"I will defeat you, I always will." [Honestly best response ever to Lycaon's. Infinity out of ten. My gay empire is amazing, I live and die for crownwolf now. 1.0 did not disappoint the prelude for this hot long blonde hair heterochromic vampire phantom thief that 1.6 gave us an absolue buffet for, as we starve for even more in 1.7. He has and always will push my buttons right. Also, if I will be very honest with you, from the looks of things... we know which statement rings most true. Shoutout for me being down bad for our vampire though. Rose tinted glasses, let's go!]

Hugo didn't know that he would ever have another 'true love', what his disgusting father had called Serena as after she died and Hugo took credit for her kill much to his father's shallow praise.

But a certain wolf Thieren brutish oaf at least got 'lifelong partner' out of Hugo, since he refused to use any phrase his father ever used upon him. Or ever used that particular word father on Jack, a mentor with more warmth than his disgusting father could ever give.

When he ran away from home, he didn't expect to be rescued by the both. He didn't expect the care and despite his initial distrust, he could never expect them to worm their way into his heart.

Hugo would remain steadfast in his principles, finding their self-righteousness when it comes to not taking lives under any circumstances a little grating. And yet people always came with different views, but despite that, they were people he could actually get along with. For the first time since Serena.

And Lycaon. They shared the same goals, they shared the same ideals. They had both been disgusted by the rich, they had both wished more for the poor. They wanted fairness. They wanted justice.

And they found that ideal in phantom thieves who struck fear to their targets in fair challenge with a calling card and descended towards the rich targets robbing off their treasures to give to the poor who deserve it more, an ideal that Jack supported them whole-heartedly, helped them train for missions and in working together, despite the mistakes Lycaon makes that Hugo loved to berate since it took so long to help Lycaon get use to the upper class, something that Hugo was born to like a curse.

Somehow, with time, it became a little easier to open his heart up to them especially Lycaon. In doing missions, where they did have to trust each other to have each other's backs, it was almost impossible for any distance between them.

It didn't matter with Hugo's banter and simple insults about the mistakes Lycaon makes, which he could easily take to do better or give a gruff shut it or even simply overpower him with that brutish strength of his.

It didn't matter if Hugo chose to be closed off, if his past has grayed out his eyes to the world when Lycaon's red eyes to match the singular red eye Hugo had seemed to bring forth a simple light, a stubborn and determined for the sake of their ideals and his own naive principles that keep his friends close, that bounded them to being thick as thieves literally and which Hugo, for once, let himself into.

The clumsiness and straightforwardness seemed to overpower all of Hugo's defenses and in the shared name of Mockingbird, Hugo thought for once in this kind of life where they were rising to the top in the near future away from his dark past, he could finally look forward to something.

And yet, Hugo was someone unchanged in the end. He could have one happy dream but then go back to reality. Trust thick as thieves could mean little when thieves also have the penchant of guards high just in case of backstabbing. Hugo was in touch with himself enough, especially to the incessant grating of Jack and Lycaon's idealistic principles, that this singular difference to Hugo's pessimistic upbringing was enough to cut a line between the trust.

It was enough to be aware about how Lycaon could do anything for Hugo, except for bold gambits with potential darker consequences that ran afoul to idealistic notions. It was enough for Hugo's paranoia to be aware about Jack and Lycaon having a private conversation even when he was not privy with his contents and the ever straightforward Lycaon didn't reveal anything, enough to raise his suspicion. The last nail in the coffin would be Lycaon's insistence on an oath, to never kill under any circumstances sworn immediately at their mentor's grave like a binding contract because Lycaon couldn't trust anything otherwise.

But that might have been fine, Hugo had thought. That might be better off, even with his haunting past and enemies still alive. Maybe he could indulge in such naivete and believe, simply enough, that there could be a way to carry justice without taking away lives.

Then the day came that naive justice easily shatters under reality's crushing weight. And Hugo truly remained unchanged.

Undoubtedly, Lycaon would try to stop him. But he will always defeat him. Just like when they learned under their mentor's tutelage. Just like their missions, when Hugo remains flawless and had to come save Lycaon from his mistakes from time to time. He would always be a little smarter and quicker to gain the victory, even when Lycaon's strength could counter him if he was on his high horse. As his bum would never forget the chairs sliding away underneath him and rearing his back to the unforgiving floor.

Not this time. And that was when it all truly shattered.

Lycaon had seen as much of reality as Hugo had.

Then, why was he surprised by the bloody scene? Why did he look almost scared and disgusted by Hugo's resolve, at the very realization they should have opened their eyes to long ago? Why did the past mean little that Lycaon suddenly declared his distrust? Why would Lycaon, of all people, want to leave him?

Too many people, three people too many, three people who cared about him, were leaving him. In this hateful world, of the very few that he let into his heart, they leave him to this broken world, alone as many of his enemies tried their hardest for him to be to break him, but to what Hugo almost thought best when people could only break him. But then Hugo had to find true love, partners and mentors.

And now look where it had gotten him.

Yet, obviously, Lycaon's would hurt the most.

Serena died by murder, never meaning to leave him when their family's maliciousness done her in the first place and robbed away from Hugo, loneliness among only hatred was tasted and left shattered. And yet he would never blame Serena, when it was those bastards that did this to them.

Jack died peacefully in his sleep, a parting Hugo understood when he knew initimately that death would take them all and happy that peace was all Jack met especially when his first loved one left through bloody murder. Sad as he might have felt for such parting, he felt the only thing he could do was live on his mentor's legacy and for Hugo, that was enough. In gratitude for what was taught and for being a figure he can actually respect in his heart.

Lycaon... was not dead but at that moment, he was certainly dead to Hugo and almost better off actually dead when he would leave Hugo, to join the Mayflower. The most hypocritical move when they had been battling such high-class members and yet Lycaon would be joining them? To leave Hugo for the likes of them?

Did... did Lycaon's idealistic principles that had no place in this world they live in, an oath made insistently supposedly for the sake of their phantom thievery by the support of their mentor that realistically cannot be upheld when the direst situation of worst-case scenario me or them certainly could leave one dead in self-defense... How could any of that matter more to Lycaon than the partnership they have built and bonded over the years?

Thus, he would never have a 'lifelong partner' again, because no matter who he found, it seemed no one would truly understand him, nor stick by him.

"Not even Vivian can agree with all my beliefs. One day, we will go our separate ways."

Their missions had always been a two-person job and although Hugo believed he could pull off many stunts on his lonesome, even when being alone might be the best of all, recklessness was best left suited to a brute than he.

Everything that happened was enough for Hugo to reassess, to finally strike when the time is right and he can exercise patience, for what truly mattered.

It was then that the gears of hateful fate spun for him, to the moment where he found Vivian, where he learned of the Exaltists, a Proxy named Phaethon and their close ties to a certain housekeeping service.

It was also at similar time that the Ravenlock family was making their move.

Whether it was the right time to make a move or not, patience and caution could only go so far. And in his phantom thief life, gambits had been part and parcel of his mission.

"Luck is always unpredictable, and that's what makes it fascinating. Whenever I get the chance, I can't help but want to test it."

Was his luck really good or bad, that he ended up with his fated reunion with that traitor after a fairly successful heist against Hartman Ravenlock, with the Proxy he hoped for cooperation in tow?

It was such a brutish move to go straight for the kill, irony intended, the moment he gave a nice greeting to Lycaon but that man always knew how to react to Hugo's violence... from the mines he left him, of a foreshadowing not left from his lips, and the first hit from his suitcase. Meeting again... isn't it great that they could blow off some steam and that Hugo could truly let Lycaon know what he felt all these years.

And he was reminded once more, even after all these years that Lycaon remained the same pompos self-righteous character even when they faced the same reality in front of them.

He really did want to make that traitor kneel, hypcrotically calling Hugo beyond reason when Lycaon can't see beyond his own complexes.

"To hell with you and your foolish fantasies of being an almighty savior."

How could it not have been any more foolish, showing mercy to killers as if everyone should be saved to the naive justice he insisted on upholding? When the person that could be saved will now always be out of Lycaon's reach, hypothetically speaking.

Because as steadfast as Hugo would always be about himself, maybe if the both of them truly stick thin and thick with each other, if no one turned their backs on him...

Unfortunately, that is not their present and thus something Hugo didn't care to indulge in. Instead, he simply faced Lycaon as sworn enemies they have truly become. Hugo could only laugh at Lycaon's foolish statement.

"I will defeat you, I always will."

That was Hugo's counter to being stopped, so that Lycaon could save someone else entirely less deserving. To many plans gone awry, or not letting Hugo bask the consequences that deliver the greater good.

After all, Hugo would always be better enough to give Lycaon the slip, to do whatever the hell he wants, as nothing will get out of the way of taking fate into his hands. He realized now, even when Lycaon had improved as much as Hugo for him to jump over the ledge for his escape, that there was truly no better time than now...

To finally put the past to rest.

Stealing the Robe of Heroes, Vivian and Phaethon meeting, reuniting with his ex-partner that he didn't care about at all.

Meeting Hartman, his dear uncle, revealing how he was Mockingbird and knew there was no turning back.

Solidifying the act.

"But you know how it is, in this world, someone has to be 'the bad guy'."

It was certainly shaping up to it, into the climax when they held out the operation to find the Sacrifice Core, glad for the Proxy's cooperation and frankly pissed at Lycaon's stalking him.

That oaf has never learned the point of subtlety, even lying to his face that he has no reason to avoid Hugo at all. Excuse me, who left Mockingbird and turn his back on Hugo?

Really, Lycaon had been easy to read as ever, from never letting his guard down when they were forced to cooperate together, thanks a lot to the rest of them especially the Proxy and Vivian for throwing him to the sharks, or the wolf's fangs. It left him an illuminating and sickening discussion and how unchanging Lycaon really is, something to like and loathe him of.

It was also enough for Hugo to be aware that his private conversation with the Proxy might not be private at all. Fair enough, that's what Hugo would done himself. It meant Lycaon's skills hadn't rusted away being a lapdog.

The audience would certainly be glad of a role taking its more active position. It just made the climax raw and out of his hands, lies and truths spinning around all at once as his vengeance and his ideals were once more his to take, and to never let go.

"I have never once thought Mockingbird as a failure."

So then why, why did you leave? Why...couldn't things have turned out differently, coward?

Hugo would not mourn for a present that will never come to pass. He cared not for the broken relationship left behind when choices have been made. It simply made it more enraging. The hypocrisy felt sickening.

But in its own way, in this very reunion when Lycaon finally had the guts to choke and dangle him off the rooftop, it was only the wolf in front of him who could carry out their final decision together. A reunion mission unknown but only for the two of them.

Hugo had so much more to do, his subtle hints never being lost to the keen instincts Lycaon always held, why he always try stopping him although Hugo would always have the upper hand in the end.

Because Lycaon thought Mockingbird was not a failure, he still remembered and maybe even cherished the skills and experiences he gained during those days, what will help the flow of this story act. What no one else could do and what he wouldn't wish upon anyone else.

Never Vivian who shall never dirty her hands.

Never the Proxy, truly respected by Hugo but with too fresh a relationship to ever understand what must be done.

Not the Cunning Hare standing at ready, simply the Proxy's friend witnessing everything alongside them.

Yes, only Lycaon could do this.

Because he truly wanted to see whether he can go through this mission and the expression on his face. In all these years, as unchanging as Hugo thought Lycaon was in the ways that mattered, he wanted Lycaon's idealistic thinking to break, he wanted Lycaon to see the reality, he wanted Lycaon to...

Finally face him as they go through all this, together.

As much as they were sworn enemies, bitter ex-partners with so much betrayal harboring in Hugo's heart, there were three... now four or maybe even five and six people that he would ever care for in this forsaken world.

Two left him through death.

The other two or even three were simply fresh out, completely pure in Hugo's eyes to ever face the darkness he harbors around him, as he would leave them instead.

And now that only left Lycaon, who had left him. Who had reunited. Who Hugo now paid back by leaving him even when it seemed Lycaon had the upper hand here. Or so it seemed.

And Lycaon didn't disappoint, as he smiled coughing out having stains on his favorite scarf as he was mercilessly thrown out to the Hollow. A fitting ending, a fitting victory. And the smile on his face proves it all, much to Lycaon's annoyance for sure. He made sure to savour the expression from that traitor's face, keeping up the smile as the 'last' thing Lycaon sees even when what he saw of Lycaon's face threatened to fade it away.

... Even now, Lycaon was easy to read, that almight savior complex of his that makes its unwanted appearance for people who less than deserve it. And before the fissure swallowed him whole, he saw the smoothening expression on Lycaon's face and knew this mission really went out with a bang, entrusted well enough for the future would he be loathe to admit.

Despite what Lycaon would undoubtedly try to do, although he could try.

But that would no longer be any of his buisness...

"A good movie never spoils its ending but feel free to speculate."

Or would it?

"I wished that you would really take better care of yourself. Luckily your fall isn't too bad. Was this really necessary?"

"Oh, Robin. You should know better of the modus operandi we phantom thieves uphold. What else but the impossible could satisfy our missions?"

Still, Hugo didn't fuss when the Bangboo, a partner more reliable than any person and someone who stuck long enough and went through the abyss with him to entrust to anyone else, helped him clean up whatever wounds he had from the fall and made sure the Hollow wouldn't take a toll on him.

Even if the day's events made him unfit for Hollow exploration, Robin's combat bangboo prowess was not to be underestimated.

"I will come back, like an avalanche."

The first phase had already been accomplished. His lofty goals are far from over. And he will truly win from this entire ordeal. He would make sure of it.

AND END! I feel like there's so much that could be written about Hugo but it wasn't enough for my tiny brain capacity T_T. I really love them especially Hugo with all my heart. Please, why do they have to be so doomed? I'm just letting off my final steam so I can have the patience to get back to real life. And I'm so glad to write this little fic if only because I have been having trouble writing these days and just... seriously. This was so much fun. Honestly I feel my interpretations don't do crownwolf's gay violence ex-(partnership) justice but we have so little of them that anything is fine and I need more of my buffet. Please, someone make more crownwolf fics. I will also post this on AO3 later~ For now, enjoy.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

desire

anthony bridgerton x female reader

The grand ballroom of Wellington House was ablaze with light and filled with the buzz of excitement. Tonight was a significant evening for the Wellington family, marking the debut of their youngest and only daughter, Y/N. The air was thick with anticipation, and Y/N, standing near her mother Iris and the other mamas, felt a mix of nerves and excitement. Her three older brothers, Sebastian, Edward, and George, hovered protectively nearby, their eyes constantly scanning the room for any potential threats to their sister's virtue.

Y/N looked stunning in her debutante gown, the fabric shimmering under the chandeliers as she conversed with the other ladies. She caught snippets of their conversations, comments about how much she had grown and how she was a prime candidate for the Diamond of the Season. She smiled politely, her eyes occasionally darting to her brothers, who stood a short distance away, their expressions a mix of pride and concern.

“Y/N, darling,” her mother Iris said, her voice filled with affection. “You must meet Lady Violet Bridgerton and her sons. They are esteemed members of the ton.”

As if on cue, Violet Bridgerton approached with her eldest son, Anthony, in tow. Y/N curtsied gracefully, and Violet’s eyes twinkled with warmth as she introduced Anthony.

“Anthony, this is Miss Y/N Wellington. She is making her debut this evening.”

Anthony bowed, his dark eyes studying Y/N with interest. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Wellington.”

Y/N felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Bridgerton.”

The two families chatted for a few moments, but Y/N could feel the weight of Anthony’s gaze on her. It was intense, almost disconcerting. She had heard whispers of his reputation handsome, commanding, and unyielding. The thought both intrigued and unsettled her.

As the night progressed, Y/N found herself partnered with Anthony for a dance. His hand on her waist was firm, his movements confident as he led her around the floor. She could feel the eyes of her brothers on them, especially Sebastian, whose protective streak was well-known.

“You have quite the entourage,” Anthony remarked, glancing over at her brothers with a slight smirk.

“They are just looking out for me,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the butterflies in her stomach.

“And do you need looking after?” Anthony’s voice was low, almost a challenge.

Y/N met his gaze, her chin lifting slightly. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure you can. But sometimes, it doesn’t hurt to have someone in your corner.”

Their conversation was cut short as the dance ended, and Anthony escorted her back to her family. The evening continued with more dances and polite conversation, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of Anthony’s eyes following her every move.

Days turned into weeks, and the Season was in full swing. Y/N received numerous invitations, but it was Anthony who seemed to be a constant presence. Their interactions were a blend of polite conversation and underlying tension, each encounter leaving Y/N both frustrated and exhilarated.

At one particularly grand ball, the announcement was made that Y/N Wellington was named the Diamond of the Season. The room erupted in applause, and Y/N felt a surge of pride mixed with anxiety. She caught Anthony's eye across the room, and he gave her a nod of approval, though his expression was inscrutable.

With her newfound title, Y/N’s dance card filled up rapidly. Each night was a whirlwind of suitors and admirers, all vying for a moment of her time. She found it exhausting, her heart yearning for the one dance partner she truly desired Anthony.

Her brothers, ever watchful and protective, were not pleased with her growing closeness to Anthony. They began introducing her to other, more “suitable” prospects wealthy, titled gentlemen who were eager to court the Diamond of the Season. Each introduction felt like a test, a measure of her resolve and her feelings for Anthony.

One afternoon, Y/N found herself promenading with Lord Kensington, a charming but uninspiring young man her brothers had deemed appropriate. As they strolled through Hyde Park, Y/N's thoughts were elsewhere, longing for Anthony’s company instead. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her and turned to see Anthony casually walking nearby, his eyes locked on her.

“Miss Wellington,” he greeted, his voice smooth as silk. “Lord Kensington.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Lord Kensington acknowledged with a slight bow, clearly perturbed by the interruption.

Anthony’s eyes never left Y/N’s. “May I have a word, Miss Wellington?”

Before she could respond, Anthony gently took her hand and led her a few paces away. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her heart racing.

“I can’t stand seeing you with these men,” he confessed, his voice low and fervent. “They’re not worthy of you.”

“And you are?” she challenged, though her tone lacked conviction.

Anthony’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I know I am not perfect, but I care for you deeply, Y/N. I cannot keep my hands off you. Every time we pass each other, I ache to touch you, to be near you.”

His words sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t resist leaning closer. “Anthony…”

In a bold move, he leaned in and stole a quick, fervent kiss, hidden from view by the surrounding foliage. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “And I will not let anyone else take you from me.”

Their secret moments continued, each encounter more passionate than the last. Anthony found ways to weasel his way into her promenades and social events, stealing kisses and whispering sweet nothings whenever they were alone. It became their little secret, a dance of desire and longing that only they knew.

The tension built until the end-of-Season ball, where Y/N knew everything would come to a head. Anthony had been distant the past few days, and she feared he had given up. But as the night wore on, she spotted him across the ballroom, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

As the final dance began, Anthony made his way to her, his gaze never wavering. He took her hand and led her to the center of the floor, pulling her close. “This is it,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart pounding. “Anthony, what are you doing?”

“I’m choosing you,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “In front of everyone, I am choosing you.”

As the music swelled, Anthony stopped dancing and raised his voice so that all could hear. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement.”

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to them. Y/N’s heart raced as she realized what was happening.

“I love Y/N Wellington,” Anthony declared, his voice ringing with conviction. “I burn for her, and I shall love her for all the days she shall live. In any lifetime, I would choose her.”

Gasps and whispers filled the room, but Y/N only had eyes for Anthony. Tears welled up as she felt the depth of his love and commitment.

Her brothers approached, their expressions a mix of shock and grudging respect. Sebastian, the eldest, spoke first. “If you hurt her, Bridgerton, you will answer to us.”

Anthony nodded solemnly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Their wedding was a grand affair, filled with joy and celebration. As they stood together, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of completeness she had never known. Anthony’s love was fierce and unwavering, and she knew that together, they could face anything.

In the years that followed, their love only grew stronger, their bond unbreakable. They built a life filled with laughter, passion, and unwavering support, proving that even the most unlikely beginnings can lead to the most beautiful of endings.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Had my brain taken over by this scenario. Enjoy a snippet.

---

“Agent, are you in?”

“I’m in position.”

“Agent is in position. Everyone else, stand by.”

That was you. The ‘everyone else’ part- not the 'agent' part. About six other people were placed around the massive room in various spots. You didn't even know who the other people are, to preserve their safety. You glanced up from the bar, making sure not to look at the agent at the top casino table, instead admiring the very, very expensive casino you were in, the chandeliers and diamonds and saturated golden colour to everything. Your only job was to listen out for one of two codes. If you heard the first code, you were to make your way to the exit in your own time. If you heard the second code, you and the others were to get the agent out, and protect him with your life.

You were collateral.

... You had never seen such an expensive place. Chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the usual blaring lights and sounds were missing, this was far too refined an establishment. This was the kind of casino where the small blind would be the cost of a really nice house. You were sitting at the bar, wearing a dress and jewellery provided for you, ‘drinking’ (not really) an incredibly expensive martini paid for by the company card-  in any other circumstance, you probably wouldn’t even be allowed into this place. Perhaps as a dishwasher hidden away in the kitchens, if you were lucky.

You sipped the drink. You didn’t even know what the mission was, only the people vital to the mission knew what the mission was, to protect those involved. Honestly, you were just absorbing the glitz and glamour. A glimpse of a world you’d never be a part of. You had nothing to do except intervene if things went south. 

“Target has entered the room. Wait for him to sit at the table and place his bet. Eyes on the prize.”

...

“Hold on. Target passed the table. He...”

...

Your earpiece cut out. Weird. But that probably meant things were getting serious at the betting table, and the important stuff was happening. You weren’t privy to that.

A skeletal hand placed itself onto the bar, just next to you. The deepest voice you’d ever heard spoke.

“... this seat... taken, doll?”

You glanced up from your drink, and found yourself staring into the eyes of...

... the eyelight of Sans Serif.

Woah. Holy shit. You froze, for a second, pinned under that burning red eye... Sans Serif himself. That signature golden tooth. All but leaning over you, his physique was absolutely was towering, especially considering you were sitting. Didn’t his dad own the guy who ran this place? He was more physically intimidating up close than he was in pictures, with those massive shoulders and hands, that vicious skull crack only just hidden under his hat.

... But equally, he was a lot more handsome than photos gave him credit for. You hadn't expected that. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, he suited the perfectly tailored red and black suit made exactly to his massive measurements.

“Oh. Uhm... no, it’s fine, you can sit here.” You were nervous. This guy was a big fish, easily the biggest in the casino, one of the biggest in the world. Private jets and yachts, he played at the betting table with amounts of money you couldn't even imagine. He was born into more money than you could ever even comprehend.

He and his family could make you vanish. Not that he needed his family, though. One hand could snap your neck.

... He sat beside you. Your eyes darted up, making note of the two security guards who shuffled to either end of the bar. Suited just as well as him, in matching colours, sunglasses over their eyes and earbuds in their ears.

“... sorry, darlin’. don’t... mind them.” His voice was warm, rich, very soft. He spoke slowly, as if you were the only person in the room with him, but with a precision and deliberateness to his words that sounded like he had spent many hours practising speech. “can’t... go nowhere... without ‘em.”

Wow. He was talking to you. What was he doing? Was he just bored? There were other available seats at the bar, next to much more beautiful women. There were a lot of very beautiful women in this casino who would be delighted to keep the company of the Red Devil himself.

“... If I’m honest, I don’t think they’ll be doing much guarding.” You figured you’d just engage him like he was a normal person. Politely, of course- but no reason why not. 

“hm?” His huge eyelight was fuzzy at the edges.

You gave him a look. “I mean... they’re half your size. They look like your minibosses.”

He chuckled at that. It was a gentle and handsome sound, it eased you. You were still trying to grapple with the fact that Sans Serif was sitting beside you, talking to you. The two of you were from completely different universes.

He seemed so much less intimidating than people described, though. Weird.

The bartender slid Sans a drink without him even asking. It looked like an expensive whiskey, in an equally expensive crystal glass, with a single piece of ice.

“not... bettin’, tonight?” He spoke slowly, lifting the drink to his mouth. He had a golden ring on his index finger that probably cost more than your rent. What was he doing? Were... were you being flirted with by Sans Serif?

You giggled. “No, no, absolutely not. I’m terrible at cards, and dice, everything. Not a chance.”

He grinned. “s’... smart. seen... lotta suckers... lose everything, at those tables.”

He sounded so friendly. So nice. You were unwinding- it strangely so easy to forget who he was.

“Not like I have much money to lose anyway.”

“what brings you... to a casino, then?”

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really belong in this sort of place. My friends like the casino a lot more than I do.” You glanced away, again having to make a conscious effort to avoid looking at the agent. “But it seems like they’ve abandoned me.”

... He looked down at your untouched martini. “well. may i... keep you... company? doll?”

You nearly flushed. “Of course.”

His eyelight raked over you. His voice was so deep, so pleasant. “d'ya think... i could start... by gettin’ you a drink you like?”

Sans wanted to buy you a drink? You were... well. Honestly, you were flattered. But also a little embarrassed at being caught out with disliking your drink. You pushed the martini glass away from you.

“It’s that easy to tell I don’t like it?”

The corner of his working socket crinkled. “made... a funny face, when y’sipped it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle again. “I’m sorry. I try so hard to like martinis.”

His smile grew. “why?” 

“... They look so elegant. But...” you nearly cringed at yourself. “... I think they’re kinda nasty.”

He laughed. You felt proud of yourself for getting the sound out of him. You didn't notice the surprised look on his guards' faces.

He brought up his hand, resting his chin on it- why was he looking at you like that? Like you were the only person in the room? “what drinks do you like?”

“The ones that are more fruit juice than alcohol.”

“that... can be arranged.” He purred. “no one will judge. since you’re with me.”

... He was right. Nobody was going to pick you up on drinking something less fancy, when you were with the man himself.

“... I like a tequila sunrise.” You said, sheepishly.

He grinned, and looked to the bartender.

“two tequila sunrises, rob.”

---

Sans straightened his jacket as you walked away. Once you were out of sight, his head guard moved over to him, speaking with a low voice.

“Sir?”

“change... my dinner reservation... to two. i want her at my hotel. tonight.”

“Sir, you're aware that she’s...”

He cast his gaze to his guard. His eyelight, soft and warm with you, was now sharp and empty of feeling. “do i look stupid?”

The guard bowed his head in apology. “No, sir. I am just concerned about the Institute.”

He sneered. “they don’t... care. they’ll see that... i’m interested in her... and turn her into ‘bait’. they’ll put her... right in my lap.”

“Yes, sir.”

“make sure... the jet is fuelled. once we’re leaving... it’ll be fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

... Sans paused. He stared in the direction you had left in. His voice, this time, came out much gentler.

“... make the cabin fridge drinks... sweet.”

“Yes, sir.”

[aayakashii]

Wait, since we were robbed of having an episode about Samhain and seeing them in a festival, let's indulge in headcanonery (?) rn

Inspired by @rottenzombrainz 's slice of life headcanons, I'm giving a huge kiss to your brain rn

What each house would prepare for a school festival – headcanons

Frostheim

Hhhmm, maybe they'd be responsible for the play! Frostheimers are the ones that are super cultured and fancy since they're all rich lol I think they'd have all the resources needed to buy beautiful costumes and props. Maybe they'd do some Shakespeare play like Hamlet, but I wouldn't put it past them to do a musical too, like The Phantom of the Opera, complete with a huge chandelier falling down :0

Vagastrom

They would be the ones responsible for the games!! All of those festival games like card flipping (menko), shooting, throwing, ball scooping, fishing yoyo, garapon (lottery machine) and other puzzles. I think Vagastrom students would have a lot of fun challenging festival-goers even if it's not a physical challenge lol. The whole place would be filled with the sounds of people having fun! Btw, Sho would probably open a little booth with snacks ofc hehe

Jabberwock

A safari exhibition, obviously. What better moment to sell tickets for a tour around the dorm than during a festival? I'm pretty sure they would go all out, though. Maybe the tour could be done at night (if the anomalies agree lol) and everything could be lit by fairylights. The caves would have ambient music, there would be wind chimes everywhere, and bubbles would be flying around to reflect the lights (courtesy of Towa). It'd be like a true fantasy experience for anyone who decided to participate!

Sinostra

They would run a cafe for sure. Romeo would NOT pass up on the opportunity to make some money. Also, it's not like Sinostra would care that much about the festival, so it'd be best to participate by doing something they're already used to. Since a lot of people would flock to Darkwick due to the festival, including kids, they wouldn't be able to sell booze nor anything of the sort, but they'd have great food, including a little bit of Italian cuisine – pizza, carbonara, lasagne, candied fruits, gelato, torrone, espresso... people would leave with the belly full and wallets empty.

Hotarubi

They would do plenty of presentations!! Odori, taiko, koto, shamisen – everything that's related to japanese traditional culture, they'd give a huuuuge show. A lot of people would flock to Hotarubi to watch Subaru give a little snippet of his abilities as a kabuki actor too, and it'd probably be one of the most visited dorms in the whole campus! I think they'd also give a few mini workshops of tea ceremony, ikebana, puppet theatre, and origami.

Obscuary

A huge, beautiful and extremely creepy haunted mansion/labyrinth!! Obscuary is literally the perfect place for a haunted attraction. The Victorian-esque visuals of the dorm would attract a lot of people who want to test their courage, especially with all the rumors about a real werewolf and a real vampire living in that place. The mansion would be eerily silent, just the sound of creaking wood and the whoosh of "ghosts" flying around to have people on their toes, so the jumpscares would be even more efficient.

Mortkranken

They would 1000000% do an interactive medical exhibition. The students could guide the visitors throughout a day in the life of a scientist/doctor! Showing them which instruments they use for surgery (even teaching how to suture wounds); which meds are useful for certain diseases; how to measure blood pressure and auscultate heart and lung sounds and so on and so forth... a little LARPing as a doctor for an afternoon hehe

[regency-monster-love]

Come calling

Male satyr x female reader | Regency era | SFW

~ 😈🎩 ~

Regency Satyr who can smell your unique scent lingering on the calling card you’ve left at his house, and immediately knows he must meet you. Not just because etiquette demands he return the visit and welcome you to the neighborhood, but because the scent awakens the ancestral, wild part of him. It reminds him of a forest glade in spring, fresh rain pearled on moss, blossoms just beginning to open. He pictures how you might open to him as well, petal-soft and sweet as nectar, even though he has never set eyes on you.

He’s frustrated when he returns the visit and finds you not at home, forcing him to leave his own calling card in return. For how long must you and he exchange cards back and forth without meeting? His hooves feel heavy as he trudges back toward his home, his hand thrust in his pocket to rub your card between his fingers. (He’s kept it on his person ever since he received it.)

And then—there you are. He knows by your scent that the woman walking toward him on the path is you, and his grass-green eyes light up as he takes in all of you. He’s suddenly thankful that he missed you at your house, because this is where you belong: outdoors, framed by the rich greens and browns of the landscape, with the sun glinting off your hair and warming your skin to increase your scent. You’re perfect like this, bright and buoyant as a woodland nymph.

He introduces himself, mentioning that he’s just left his card at your house. You invite him to walk back there with you right then, and he eagerly accepts, his pointed ears twitching in a way that you find quite charming. 

You can’t stop glancing at his goat legs as you walk together. They look thick and powerful, the muscles of his thighs straining against the fabric of his breeches as they shift with each step. His face is pleasant to look at too, cheerful and open, a face made for laughter.

You’ve never met a satyr before, and find you are quite looking forward to getting to know this one.

~ 😈🎩 ~

Written for day 18, calling cards, for @janeuary-month.

Edit: I wrote a part 2 that's NSFW.

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing.

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[shijiujun]

NEW EP SNIPPET RELEASED FROM WOWOW TWITTER AHEAD OF THE EP 9 + 10 RELEASE TODAY

Pei Su deducing that the evidence they need is somewhere and Luo Weizhao literally being like "WE" what do you mean there's no you and me

Luo Weizhao dissing Pei Su for being rich AHAHAHAHA and also his school results

Pei Su glaring and being like "Captain Luo, how do you know how I did in school? Did you track my report cards?"

AND THEN despite all the warnings etc. LWZ still said to him "Let's go" so YESSSS THEY ARE PAIRING UP WHOOP

[theokusgallery]

Small anxceit snippet — 278 words

Janus has a split tongue.

Virgil doesn't know how he never noticed. It's not like the man doesn't run his mouth constantly. His favorite hobby is to talk, about anything and everything — truth or lies or just pretty stories, Janus is a storyteller and he weaves words around like a magician doing card tricks. Sometimes it feels like his mouth doesn't close — except when he's eating, because he can be rude as hell when he's pissed but somehow Janus still has rich boy manners. Janus always takes off his hat when he enters a building, even when it's just Virgil's house. Janus leaves his cutlery in specific positions on his plate, whether he's at home, at the cafeteria, or at a fancy restaurant. Janus very politely doesn't interrupt people when they speak, even when his eyes are laughing in their faces.

And it's not like Virgil doesn't look at him, either. It would be a feat, he thinks, not to let his eyes get caught on the chain of his earring, or the gold plated ornaments he wears on the tips of the collar of his button-ups sometimes, or on that strand of hair he leaves out of his ponytail that always manages to catch the sunlight just right no matter which way he's facing. Virgil always looks away when he sees Janus twirl it around a gloved finger, because that means Janus is bored, and when Janus is bored, he looks around for the next best thing to catch his attention. And, judging by the amount of times they've locked eyes recently, Virgil always seems to be the most interesting thing in the room.

So, really, Virgil is perplexed that he only notices Janus has a split tongue when said tongue is in his mouth.

[thesirencult]

THE TRUTH ABOUT ESCAPING TWIN FLAMES AND OTHER MLM NEW AGE BULLSHIT

"You don't get rich writing science fiction. If you want to get rich, you start a religion."

L. Ron Hubbard (Founder of Scientology)

I won't lie to you. What got me into tarot was a very raw and real dream about a man I've never met in my life. I had this dream when I was 15 and it felt like I was floating in a parallel universe.

Dreams with this "stranger" kept coming and going and during a search I stumbled upon the concept of "twin flames".

As with anything NeW AgE it is nothing new. All New Age bullshit are concepts familiar to human civilizations for thousands of years. In all ancient cultures these concepts show up again and again.

Astrology, cartomancy and other forms of divination and guidance have been used by Mesopotamians, Egyptians, Greeks and Hindu people for centuries. They were villainized after the come up of Christianity.

I always have believed there is a higher power. Some name it Allah, others Moses, other Dias etc. Doesn't matter, it's one God above us. Actually contrary to what many want you to believe the Ancient Greeks didn't have "12 Gods" but 12 (and much much more) expressions of DIVINITY. Metaphors and symbolisms.

Hermes Trismegistus has written everything about "manifestation". Others just repackaged it. Some help us understand the concept and others just want to make a quick buck.

All people have some primal needs. Connection and love. Money and wealth. Wanting to be beautiful and powerful. Some people prey on that and, in my opinion, the self-improvement industry will only keep on growing.

The concept of twin flames can be found being expressed by Socrates in the dialogue "Symposium" by Plato :

“Now, since their natural form had been cut in two, each one longed for its own other half, and so they would throw their arms about each other, weaving themselves together, wanting to grow together...

This, then, is the source of our desire to love each other. Love is born into eve­ry human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.

Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole, because each was sliced like a flatfish, two out of one, and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him."

Sidenote: Obviously I used only two snippets of the dialogue. Socrates' stance on homosexuality and other matters of love can be found in there and it is a good read. It will definitely show you that some concepts have been around since humans walked on this earth.

Moving on, I want to give you some tips on how to best use astrology and tarot/oracle cards as TOOLS to better yourself.

1. First try them yourself.

Don't let others dictate how you see astrology and tarot. Go online and search up your birth chart on astroseek or visit the Light Seer's Tarot/Muse Tarot website which has an incredible pick a card feature.

Don't contact an astrologer or tarot reader before familiarising yourself with the tools and "taking the magic out" of them.

2. No one and mean NO ONE can predict the future 100%.

In our lives there are moments who seem synchronized. They make you believe in fate. I do believe that God intended for us to live through some things but I also absolutely believe in FREE WILL. I always say that to clients especially those who have tarot readings.

Tarot and astrology can help you see the paths laid in front of you. They help you dive in your unconscious mind. Don't let anyone fool you that they are magical and whatever the cards say can not change.

3. If you purchase a reading don't purchase a love/romance one at first.

Don't get me wrong. I love love and romance. I love doing love readings. They are sweet and sexy.

BUT. Even in my love readings I incorporate a "general energy of you" for the person. I do that cause I want to show to my client, who trusted me and chose me that a tarot reader can be vetted.

Sadly even with PAC readings I can see that the romance ones are read and reposted way more than ones that assist with personal development. I try to keep a balance and do both.

The thing is a good tarot reader, astrologer even a therapist or a fitness trainer want to help you become INDEPENDENT. I don't want you to keep coming back and purchase love readings about your ex.

It's toxic. I won't accept that.

4. You are perfect the way you are.

Telling you that "yeah, you have an issue right here and it can be fixed by doing so and so" is okay.

Telling you that "YOU SHOULD LOVE YOURSELF. YOU DON'T LOVE YOURSELF THAT'S WHY YOU WON'T FIND LOVE UNTIL YOU DO THAT" is toxic. People control you this way.

It's like saying give me more money. Ask me how I can make you LOVABLE.

Your other half won't cheat, manipulate or make you feel awful. Your ex who was an asshole is not your Twin Flame.

Light up the flame within and love out your dreams. You will attract people who will adore and love you by being AUTHENTIC.

Anyone that abuses you and puts your flame out should GO.

5. All big corporations prey on your weaknesses & Do not trust anyone who tells you they are the only ones that can set you free or solve your issues.

Be disciplined. Control yourself and your mind. Read "The 48 Laws Of Power" and other books on influence and manipulation. Learn how narcissists and cult leaders operate.

All big companies do not sell you products (I will probably post this part by itself too).

They sell you emotions, feelings, status. BMW doesn't sell cars, it is selling power and prestige and confidence.

Nike doesn't sell shoes and shirts, it is selling dreams of being powerful and different, of making it in the jungle, of WINNING.

But there are some companies which I'M NOT GOING TO MENTION by name who influence you by breaking you down. Astrology apps that send you negative predictions about your day to make you anxious so you will check back every single hour. Cult like influencers who sell "How to get rich quickly" courses that cost thousands of $ and offer no value.

Be careful. Be prepared. Be strong and firm.

I hope everyone who was taken in this cult (wait ! myy username is the siren cult, lol) can find peace and the power within them.

[wildlife4life]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

*A nylon gloved hand reaches out of a dark hole that smells like toothpaste and medical grade cleaner. In its trembling fingers is a wrinkled torn out note page. At the top there are crossed out chart notes and below that are the words NFL Buck snippet*

I LIVE!!!!!!!!! What up my buddie peeps? Making a surprise NFL Buck tidbit drop between studying and having my fingers in people's mouths (I am not a crazy person, I am in Dental Assisting school and doing my clinical rounds). The writing beans woke up for once and I had to share! But this does not mean a new chapter is going to drop any time soon. I am nearing the end of my schooling, on top of being a mom and running a household, so the time to actually sit and write, and have the writing beans working is very rare these days. BUT! NFL Buck is still in the works and another chapter is coming, just need to be patient with me. To those who are being patient and have stuck around for this fic, thank you.

Tagged by the super lovely and super talented @spaceprincessem. I am ever patient and beyond excited for your upcoming mockingjay buddie fic!

"Drinks are on me tonight." Eddie states firmly before Chimney could finishing reaching back for his wallet. The older man looks back and does a mental count of everyone that came along after their very rough shift and can't hide his small wince, "You sure Diaz? Including Athena, thats 10 weary firefighter bar tabs you'll be covering." And Chimney knows better than most how much just one thirsty civil servant can put away, let alone 10. Eddie shrugs one shoulder and gives him a small smirk, "Oh yea. I mean technically drinks are on Buck tonight, as thanks for saving me after the whole 'reckless spider-man' routine." His right hand throws up air quotes while his left is pulling his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. Gifting an expensive coffee machine for the firehouse was one thing and knowing the basic financial logistics of Eddie's upcoming birthday golf trip was another. But having the funds on hand for an on the whim night out with several thirsty hard working men and women, was tipping onto the side of skeptical. And Chimney needed to voice it. "Doesn't he have an expensive birthday trip for you to save up for?" Chim quirks an eyebrow. The Texas native's smirk broadens. Instead of vocally answering him, Eddie opens his wallet and pulls out a fucking black American Express card. Chimney's jaw literally drops, as the bar lights reflect off the silver EDMUNDO DIAZ stamped at the bottom. Next to him, Hen audibly gasps before quickly collecting herself and shouting out, "118, drinks are on Diaz!" And is immediately met with loud hollers and cheers. Rich man Diaz laughs loud and reaches past a still stunned Chimney to hand the prized card to the wide eyed bar tender. In a hook and ladder joint, a card like Eddie's has probably never even come close to even the block of the bar and Chimney's only seen a black Amex in movies and tv shows. "No restrictions." Eddie tells the bar tender, "And I'll start with whatever IPA is on tap." He looks back at Chimney, "What'll have Han?" And folds up his fucking Burberry leather wallet before sliding it back into his back pocket.

For those who are not familiar with this fic, please go check the first two chapters of Three Taps for the Lombardi. All other snippets and posts for NFL Buck can be found here. Warning, there are a lot! Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure!): @hippolotamus @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @tizniz @rainbow-nerdss

@elvensorceress @monsterrae1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @lonelychicago @spotsandsocks

@diazheartsbuckley @diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @watchyourbuck

@glorious-spoon @prosperdemeter2 @bekkachaos @tidesreach @kitteneddiediaz

@eddiestummy @aroeddiediaz @lemonzestywrites @bi-buck-coded @lover-of-mine

@beyourownanchor6 @honestlydarkprincess @bucks-daddy-issues @inell

@pansysgothgf @smilingbuckley

[themadmorrigan]

The Last Ten Days: Chapter 3

@limeandorange and I are back, baby.

Ship: Nesta Archeron/OC Status: Chapter 3/5 Rating: N/A Words: 12,733 overall, 6,071 for Chapter 3

Read Chapter 3 here!

Start at the beginning here!

Chapter snippet:

Nesta expected a lot of things, chief among them disappointment. The feeling of utter enchantment, however, had not been on her betting card that night. The theatre Niall took her to was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, practically beyond imagination. Grand, golden, impossibly tall—its ceilings curved like the inside of a shell, painted grandly around its edges with a scene of the sky at dusk that gradually faded to black at the top of the dome, which was full of colorful constellations and fantastical, winged creatures. There were velvet-lined seats, and crystal chandeliers that refracted dazzling prisms. The wooden performance halls she’d once seen as a child in the human lands paled in comparison, part of ancient history now, when her parents had still been alive and rich enough to chase culture and beautiful things.  She sat stiffly in her chair at first, arms crossed and jaw tight with annoyance. Beside her, Niall was too fidgety, too casual, and never stopped talking. But when the lights dimmed and the curtain rose, everything - the energy of the room, her mood, Niall - changed.

As usual, if you'd like to be added to a taglist, please comment!

[wolfpants]

Hi lovely Wolf! Humbly requesting bites to the bone for the wip game 💜

Hello lovely Fay!

Ooh okay, so, this fic started off as a Wolfstar WIP, like a million years ago, but more recently (a year and a bit ago? I think?) I decided to switch it over to Drarry. The basic premise is this: Draco and Blaise lose everything after the war, but they love nice things. So they start a crime ring where they sleep with rich men and rob them in the middle of the night.

It's another one that's been festering in my WIP graveyard for a while, sadly, but here's a snippet...

-

With Muggles, it always starts with a watch. 

It’s a good indicator, a nice watch. Rolex, Omega, Cartier, Breitling. Draco’s learned them all, and he’s learned they’re all good.

The shoes are next. Trainers are almost always a no, obviously, unless they’re leather, or look very new. They tend to indicate a particular type of creative: a music producer, a successful artist, a writer, a television or film executive. Good in bed.

Suede Chelsea boots? That’s a Shoreditch posh boy with a geeky job in computers and software, probably mid level, or, if he has a nice haircut and is over the age of thirty, he’s higher up, maybe even runs the joint, and he thinks he’s cool. They’re a good bet, most of the time, because their flats are full of gadgets and big boy toys and they don’t care what they leave out in the open because they live life on the edge or they’re just too stupid and arrogant to realise what should be hidden away and what shouldn’t.

Polished brogues? Wanker banker. Ego the size of a planet. The best odds of having a good night, financially and otherwise.

After the watch and shoes, Draco will look at their phones (namely, if they have one), their wallets, and any other valuables on their person that will almost always end up in his possession by sundown: digital cameras, iPods, rucksacks big enough to hold laptops, what have you. Whatever he can fit into his own bag, whatever’s good enough to exchange for money. Like the men, every item is a number, a figure, a balance in his vault for rent, bills, food, designer clothes and restaurant bills.

Draco first spotted the man earlier when he walked into the bar. It’s his usual trick: excuse me, I think you dropped this? and he’ll crouch to the floor to pick up the phoney credit card he plants there when they’re not paying attention to him, and by the time he stands back up and slides the card onto the table under their nose, they won’t be paying attention to anyone else, because Draco will be smiling, he’ll be making confident eye contact, and he’ll be standing close though that they’ll be able to smell his shower gel and aftershave, but not close enough that it will feel like he’s too close, and they’ll always say—

“—oh, that’s not… that’s not mine?”

The man has curly brown hair and a long, freckly nose. His watch—rose gold case, brown leather strap, Cartier logo—peeks out from the edge of his buttoned sleeve. 

-

Ask me about my wips - graveyard edition or normal edition!

[multifandoms27-blog]

Hey darling!!! <3, hope your day is good, well, i saw your Seto Kaiba dating hc's and i read the "He just gets even better when one day he comes home with a ring" snippet, AND I GET SO HYPED FOR WEDDING/HUSBAND SETO KAIBA HC'S, so can i request "married Seto Kaiba hc's"? if not its ok, but i will be so happy if you do it

just a moment to appreciate this handsome man's beaut-

Hello lovely! My day is going okay, I hope yours is as well <3

• ───────────────── •

Content: Seto Kaiba x GN!Reader

Warnings: Talk of children at the end (I made sure to separate that section from the rest of the headcanons incase people don't want to read that part)

Notes: I've started my second year of college and I already want to rip my hair out. I hope these headcanons are okay <3

• ───────────────── •

Seto doesn't want to trouble you with planning the wedding. He has professionals handling it.

However, obviously I feel you'd want a say in the color scheme and your own outfit at your wedding. Seto will absolutely let you make those decisions, he just figured you wouldn't want to bother yourself with the wedding plans. It would most likely be you doing all the work anyway, he has a company to run. (Wedding planning can take more than a year in some cases for those who don't know, and the more lavish and expensive it is, the longer the planning will be)

You two enjoy your engagement though. As much as Seto says he hates the press, he loves all the attention you two are getting from the Japanese media.

I think a lot of people thought Seto would never get married because of how snobby he is, and how focused he is on his company and a children's card game, so he can't wait to show up to every rich get-together with his arm around your shoulders, telling everyone you're his spouse.

Your wedding was in a lavish area off the coast of Japan. Mokuba was Seto's best man, while (Yugi friend/your own friend) was your best man/maid of honor. Your vows to each other were so sweet and loving, Jonouchi had to rub his eyes to make sure it was Kaiba you were marrying and not somebody else.

Because Seto is a famous man, your wedding was most likely televised.

The night was filled with laughter, congratulations to you and Seto, amazing food, jokes, and all around happiness. It was undoubtedly the best day of your life.

Your honeymoon was overseas though. Seto finally pried himself away from his work, and was looking forward to spending two uninterrupted weeks with you in Italy (or wherever else you choose)

Your honeymoon is filled with romantic gestures, long nights (hehe), and a whole lot of lovin'

When you come back home, Seto goes to work and you give Mokuba all the PG-13 details. How Seto treated you to nice dinners, how amazing the view was both in the day and night, and showed him pictures of you and Seto and your honeymoon

Surprisingly, Seto is the first one of you two to post your honeymoon pictures. They become flooded with supportive and loving comments, Jonouchi's comments never failing to make you laugh

Some days you'll let off Seto's staff early and make dinner for you two and Mokuba, or get takeout. Depends on how you're feeling that night

Seto appreciates it either way, and is just glad to get some time to spend with you and Mokuba at the end of his tiring work day

Sometimes you and Seto will have the same idea though, and you'll both get takeout by accident. The funniest is when you both show up to the same place and are like "What're you doing here??" "I could ask you that too"

Rarely does Seto cook, but damn is it fucking good. If he has a day off and decides to let his staff go home early, he'll cook for you and Mokuba

Seto lives to make your life easier. Need someone to manage your public account because the press can be too much to handle? He's going on a search for a suitable manager. Feel lonely by yourself at the mansion? He's asking Mokuba to surprise you with Yugi and co. (begrudgingly).

He's still going to be busy with work, but he'll make it up to you by bringing you on work trips whenever he can. He'll book nice hotels for the two of you, and always makes sure that he's all yours after five o'clock.

He confides all of his work troubles to you now, and if you thought he was stressing before when you were dating, it's now a whole new level. You're locked in with him for life, and Seto is about to spill all of his secrets to you. You suggest a therapist to help him regulate the stress, and he scoffs at the idea.

"Do you know how many people would put a price on the information I'm telling you? Yeah, no thanks."

So instead, you make ways to help him relax. You tell him about taking a bath with the whole nine - a relaxing bath bomb, candles, soft music...and he scoffs at the idea. So instead, you decide to trick him.

"Seto, there's something called an epsom salt bath that you can soak in, it helps you relax."

"Isn't that for sore muscles?"

"And weren't you complaining about how sore your shoulders are?"

You manage to get your husband in the warm bath, poured epsom salt in there, then sat carefully on the edge of the tub and massaged his shoulders. He relaxed enough to where began to close his eyes, and you slipped a blue bath bomb into the water. He was none the wiser about what you were doing until the bomb completely dissolved, you managed to light a candle or two, and he only opened his eyes when you began to play some soft music.

"What...?"

"Is this relaxing, Seto?"

"..." He won't admit it, but it really is.

• ───────────────── •

The next section talks about children, but no actual pregnancy! So if you don't like the topic, no worries! You can skip it <3

• ───────────────── •

Of course, with (some) marriages, comes the topic of children. In the Japanese dub of the anime, Seto tells Mokuba that he'll be his dad and look after them once they're in the orphanage (in the English its just big brother), which means you are now technically Mokuba's "adopted mother."

In the original manga, Mokuba was also in public school and had a lot of friends there, so I like to think that he sometimes goes between homeschooling and public school. If things become dangerous and Seto thinks Mokuba will be kidnapped again, he'll pull him out of school. But once things calm down, he'll allow Mokuba to go back to school. Which means, you and Seto are the best parents at the PTA meetings and after school events.

Of course, if Seto can't make it then you'll go for the both of you. Anything Mokuba has after school where he performs, you record it for Seto (and future memories).

Doing this for so long will make Seto think about what it would be like to actually have a child with you. I think he would want two, so they could have the same sibling bond that he and Mokuba have. And with how dangerous the world is, what if something happened to him or you or Mokuba?

He thinks about it for a while before finally bringing it up to you to see how you feel. If you're up for having a child with him, then he'll be ecstatic and jump right on it. If you biologically cannot be pregnant, then thats okay, adoption is absolutely on the table. Mokuba is excited to know that he's going to be an uncle.

[seiya-starsniper]

Hey 👋🏻 I’m the omega-dream anon! Pleeeeeease make it Dreamling!?

Can you imagine hob really really trying to get dreams attention as a potential alpha mate? And maybe he’s scared to be rejected because he’s just a normal guy and could never afford the lifestyle Dream is used to? Or maybe he’s rich as hell but dream still resents him for it? Or maybe… I’m sorry, I just can’t stop thinking about it and I’m so happy you like the idea! Whatever you’re going to come up with, I know it’s going to be great! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Yeeeessss you got it! 😄 Hob works VERY well for this fic, and also, I am a sucker for enemies to lovers so asshole rich guy Hob who oops accidentally actually falls in love with Dream is probably in the cards for this one 👀 I am very delighted you're as excited for this idea as I am, this trope scratches a very specific itch of mine that will not be ignored ehehe.

Here's a little snippet for you:

Click. Click. Whoosh. Click. Whoosh. Click Click. Click. Dream stares past the camera, his eyes focused on a discolored spot on the wall instead of his photographer for the day, feeling utterly bored. He’s hardly moved in the last hour, having been directed to stand perfectly still as photo after photo of his perfectly painted face is captured for the benefit of his potential mate. No. Not a potential mate. A potential alpha. A jailer. A buyer. Dream had known, ever since he’d presented as an omega in his teens, that he was living entirely on borrowed time. Omegas were rare, and highly coveted in society, a status symbol of power and virility that could not be easily obtained with wealth alone. So whenever one presented, the omega was often mated almost immediately.  Dream has been unmated for nearly five years now, and at twenty years old, his parents are more than eager to sell off their omega son rather than wait for his prospects to completely dry out. 

[theink-stainedfolk]

Silent Strokes

Snippet

---

Today’s outfit.

Wystan Argent’s inner voice chimed as he finished fastening the last button of his oversized forest-green cardigan. He tugged at the hem, ensuring it fell just right over his patterned cream shirt, which boasted a series of tiny golden moths embroidered along the collar. The shirt was tucked neatly into his favorite pair of wide-legged, chocolate-brown corduroy trousers. They swished faintly as he moved, a delightful sound he loved even if no one else could hear it.

A mustard-yellow scarf was draped loosely around his neck, the threads slightly frayed at the edges—a detail that added to its charm, in Wystan’s opinion. His socks, of course, didn’t match. One was a rich burgundy with tiny foxes, the other a pale lavender with tiny stars. He slid into his scuffed loafers, their battered appearance only adding to their character.

He gave himself a once-over in the mirror. “A solid seven on the whimsical scale,” he thought, twirling briefly to test the movement of the cardigan. Satisfied, he grabbed his leather satchel—another thrifted treasure covered in small doodles he’d painted on the worn material—and headed to the museum.

The moment he stepped through the heavy glass doors, he felt the familiar warmth of his second home. The smell of old books, faint floor polish, and something vaguely metallic filled the air. Wystan clutched his satchel to his chest, grinning to himself as he made his way toward the reception desk to collect this month’s museum card.

The staff were busy today, more than usual. Wystan noticed the hum of activity immediately—guides escorting groups of schoolchildren, museum-goers bustling about, and papers being shuffled at the front desk. He tapped the counter lightly to catch someone’s attention but realized quickly that no one he recognized was available.

Then, he saw him.

Dark Academia, his mind supplied immediately.

The man was tall, with broad shoulders draped in a perfectly tailored black coat that looked both practical and elegant. Beneath it, a dark turtleneck and gray trousers completed the aesthetic. His hair was dark and unruly in a way that seemed intentional, framing his sharp, angular features. He had piercing hazel eyes, focused but distant, as though he was perpetually lost in thought. He carried a clipboard close to his chest, the sleeves of his coat rolled slightly to reveal a simple silver watch.

Wystan caught himself staring and quickly looked away, clutching his satchel tighter. Very Dark Academia. A bit too serious-looking, though. A scholar who broods about forbidden knowledge, he mused, his lips twitching into a small smile.

The man, as if sensing Wystan’s gaze, turned and looked directly at him. For a moment, Wystan froze. He wasn’t prepared for the quiet intensity of those eyes.

The man stepped toward him, his movements fluid but deliberate, stopping just a few feet away. “I’m Sylvan Emberley,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I’m new here. Can I help you with something?”

Wystan blinked rapidly, his cheeks heating. He quickly dug into his satchel for his notebook and scribbled a note:

Need a guide. Hard of hearing. Written explanations work.

He turned the notebook toward Sylvan, who read it with a slight furrow of his brow before nodding. He grabbed a pen from his clipboard and wrote neatly on the back of a flyer: I’ll guide you. Where would you like to start?

Wystan gave a grateful nod, gesturing toward the art exhibit.

As they walked together, Wystan couldn’t help sneaking glances at Sylvan. Everything about him was composed, efficient, and self-contained. He didn’t speak much, only writing explanations as needed, but Wystan found himself intrigued by the precision of his words and the subtle way his gaze softened when Wystan lingered on certain pieces.

When they reached the painting of the ancient deity, Wystan’s steps faltered. The towering figure in the painting was breathtaking—powerful, otherworldly, and captivating in a way that made his heart race.

Wystan immediately wrote in his notebook: This painting. It’s my favorite. I think I’m in love with it.

He handed the notebook to Sylvan, who read it silently. Wystan noticed a faint blush creeping up Sylvan’s neck, though the man quickly looked away, clearing his throat. He wrote something on the back of the flyer but hesitated before showing it to Wystan.

When he finally did, the words were simple: It’s... a good choice.

Wystan tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. For a fleeting moment, he thought Sylvan seemed oddly familiar, though he couldn’t place why. He decided not to dwell on it, instead letting his gaze drift back to the deity in the painting.

As they moved to the next exhibit, Wystan couldn’t help thinking: Dark Academia fits him perfectly... but there’s something else. Something more.

---

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[marvel-brainot-containment-zone]

WIP Wednesday

here's a snippet from my WIP "The Best Revenge"

“What powers Loki?”

“My powers of manipulation and deception of course.”

“You mean your acting skills?”

“Sure let’s go with that.”

“You’re so ridiculous loki. This whole plan is so ridiculous it’s only going to blow up in our faces.” the whole thing is ridiculous then again half of this evening has been ridiculous. And Loki’s enthusiasm towards this plan is so endearing that Don is inclined to indulge him.

“It’s a great plan.”

“No one’s going to believe that you’re my husband,”

“People are more inclined to believe an interesting lie than a boring truth.”

“Not my ex-wife who knows my financial situation and marital status. If I had a long-term partner she would know about it. ”

“Boyfriend then.”

"What?"

"I’m going to be your hot rich boyfriend. We haven’t been together very long and you don't let me spend a lot of money on you because you don't want money to be the basis of our relationship. But I’m so gone for you that I would ask you to marry me right now if I thought you’d say yes, but alas it’s way too early. I haven’t even met your boys yet."

“You’re insane you know that right? What about your table?

“There’s fifty dollars worth of candy and five dollars in the cash box and this was more about the performance of a fundraiser anyway but if I play my cards right I could easily charm more money out of the attendees here than I ever would with that fundraiser.”

“You know sometime in the future I’m holding you to a real fundraiser and you can’t reject my help because you’re doing something for me and my kids don’t go to your school so you can’t feel guilty about it.”