#wip: the dead are bitter

[gutsybitsies]

what's love got to do wi' it

from this post, also shoutout to @kingburu for my first glimpse into pipianca and now here we are.

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Two dames in dark bar croon out a lovely jazz duet, as the band behind them thump out a funky beat.

Piper swirls a glass of red wine, the nicest the one this dingy hole has to offer, as she waits for her date to slither in. She's dressed up for this occasion, wearing her nicest boots and cleanest shirt and jeans combo. She borrowed Jason's old glasses and took out his prescription lenses, so that the golden frame brought out her kaleidoscope eyes. Her hair is no longer the choppy waves it was in her teens, and she'd managed to put it in an "elegant but effortless" bun. 

He's late. She frowns at the taste of the wine.

Someone smoothly slides into the seat next to her, but he's not who Piper is waiting for.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here? Let me buy you something stronger, sweetheart," he croons disgustingly. He looks likes if a scientist did a horrible experiment with a potato and created a man whose blandness was offset by his inherent creep factor. 

"Not interested, leave me alone," her dark hooded eyes give him an unimpressed lookover and return to gazing inside her wineglass. Bubblegum pink lipgloss kissed the rim of the glass. 

"Let me show you a good time, I promise I'd make it worth your while-" the man was inching his arm around Piper, but before she could kick him where the sun don't shine, a hand reaches out to push him back and a figure shoves himself between her and the asshole.

"Hey," he says dangerously, his dark eyes glinting with madness, "What do you think you're doing, moving on my girl?"

Piper grimaces, but lets the charade play out. Nico looks crazy and creepy, and if that kept more guys off her back, then so be it. His hair is a greasy mess, and his leather jacket has obvious tears in it. Piper doesn't want to be racist, but what's the point of fake dating an Italian if he doesn't even put in the effort to dress up? If she can put on mascara and lipgloss for him, he can at least wash his hair and shave his five o clock shadow. 

Nico moves in on the asshole, his small frame pushing up against him as he dares the other guy to make any kind of move so that he can unleash hell.

"What the fuck man-whatever, who'd want an ugly bitch like that?" the guy slinks away in shame, huffing.

Nico scoffs and slithers into the seat that the asshole vacated. "Pussy," he says.

"That's sexist," Piper reproaches him. She downs the glass of wine and nudges him to get her another glass. "You owe me."

"Yeah, yeah," he orders two shots of whiskey for them both, and the two of them pretend that they're on a nice and interesting date for half an hour for the very obvious paparazzi lurking behind them trying to take a shot of Piper, before Nico slides his arm around her and they leave the bar,  tripping over their feet as Piper hails a cab to take them to Nico's place. 

Nico's hand is dangerously low on her back, so Piper takes the initiative to slap his ass. They see a flash out of the corner of their eyes.

He glares at her.

"The cake is a lie," she whispers in his ear. "Someone needs to do more squats."

They don't let up in the cab, pretending to giggle at each other while playing with the other person's hair. They fool around all the way till they reach the front of Nico's house, where he fumbles around with his keys and unlock the front door, before picking Piper up and carrying her through his door.

The moment he kicks his front door closed, he unceremoniously dumps her on the couch and goes to the kitchen to pull out his dinner that's being kept warm in the oven.

"Hazel came over to use my kitchen and left lasagna," Nico explains, giving Piper a plate before digging in. "She's been stress cooking a lot recently."

"Poor Hazel, is she worried that much about her debut?" Piper asks, "She can keep stress cooking though, this is divine."

"Yeah, her boyfriend has no idea about our family, he thinks she's a struggling graphic designer instead of, y’know, this," Nico gestures around his opulent home. "Guy doesn't even have a range hood or a gas stove. Whatever, here's the files you asked for."

He throws a USB at Piper, who catches it in one hand. She grins in excitement. "I knew you'd come through!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't know if it can hold up in court though," he says. "Your dad, he's doing better?"

Piper's smile fades a little, "He's still booking roles, but he doesn't listen to me when I try to tell him about all the shady financial dealings the production companies and his agent is involved in."

"You're the only one who believes me," Piper continues forlornly. "Even Jason thinks that I'm overthinking."

"That’s because Jason is a cop bastard," Nico shrugs. "I don't know what's so difficult to believe about a production company partnering up with shell corporations to use hundreds of millions of dollars in film making to launder money for various arms dealers and drug smugglers. At least now you can make headway," he nods at the file that Piper's clutching in her hands.

Nico looks Piper up and down, "By the way, you said you were going to meet me in your nicest 

outfit."

Piper looks at herself, "I look nice in this outfit."

"Aren’t you a private investigator? Don’t you have a closet full of disguises? You couldn’t pick the nicest one? You're going to look better at our engagement party, right?" Nico asks, because he's a little shit.

Piper rolls her eyes, and doesn't argue because he's done her a huge favor. “Got it, promise I’ll look like the perfect trophy wife. Then I'll come in you can announce me to your family and business acquaintances, and I'd simp over your every word, and laugh at all your jokes."

"Good," Nico replies, not catching on to her sarcasm. "When I take control over the company, I'll be able to help you a lot more."

"Why doesn't Bianca have to be engaged to take control of her shares?" Piper asks. "You said that she's been in shareholder meetings ever since she turned 18."

Nico groans, "I know, it's not fair! She's father's chosen successor. I have to fight for scraps and dignity. You'd meet her at the family dinner next Friday, try not to be put off by how stuck up she's becoming."

Piper showers and changes into the fresh pajamas that Nico keeps in his place, before climbing into his spacious guest bedroom and sighing at the soft mattress and even softer pillows. When she’s in the liminal moment between wakefulness and sleep, she hears the front door being open and a rich female voice with a soft Italian lilt call out, “Nico? I know you’re awake.”

For some reason, the voice sent shivers down her body. She couldn’t make out more of what the woman is saying while she drifts off to sleep, but she lets the timber of what she could hear settle down into the most intimate part of her ears as she melts into the bed and passes into the land of slumber. 

When she wakes up, Nico is in the kitchen banging pots and pan together as he makes breakfast for the two of them.

“Change of fucking plans,” he says. “Forget meeting the family before the engagement, we’re announcing it this Saturday.” 

“This Saturday? Isn’t that-”

“Hazel’s debut? She doesn’t care, we’re taking over the headlines, I’m proposing to you in front of everyone. Fuck this shit, cazzo!” He curses as a drop of oil sizzles on his skin when he breaks the egg over the hot pan with more height than intended. “Fuckin’ Bianca, telling me what to do, she’s not my boss!” 

Piper’s seen Bianca in the various family photos that Nico had around his home, and occasionally she scrolled by pictures of her in the socialite news and on instagram, but she’s never seen Bianca in person before. “Did she come by last night?”

“She did, she said that this engagement is a bad idea, she wants me to meet a woman from another family. The Lawrences. She can’t tell me what to do, she hasn’t taken over yet!” Nico turns to Piper and points his spatula at her. “Mclean, I need you to be on point this Saturday. You need to be the most beautiful woman in the gala. Get someone to slap some makeup on your face and show off whatever straight men like. I don’t know, womanly shoulders? That’s what’s sexy right now right? Show off your shoulders.” 

Piper makes herself a cup of coffee as she watches Nico frantically make a mess of his kitchen.

“BOOBS!” He snaps his fingers in a eureka moment. “That’s what they like! Piper! I need you to-”

“Don’t say another word,” Piper smiles dangerously, and Nico sheepishly complies. “Nico, look at me.” 

He looks at her, and Piper brushes her hair away from her face as she flutters her lashes at him. Nico continues to look at her blankly, with a what am I supposed to be seeing expression on his face. 

“Ugh, you don’t understand how hot I am,” she complains. “Just trust me, I’ll knock everyone’s socks off for you.” 

She twirls a strand of her hair and blows a kiss at Nico, who raises an eyebrow and goes back to making the two of them a hearty breakfast. He shoots her a comeback, “Why aren’t you this good at flirting with women you’re actually attracted to?” Piper winces, that stings.  

Nico continues to hum as he moves around in the kitchen, and Piper focuses her eyes on the various photos that he has on his walls. She’s met Hazel before, her almost golden eyes and bright grin shine out from the frames. She’s never met Bianca, but she looks into her dark eyes as Bianca smiles gracefully into the camera, and Piper could almost hear her sultry voice in her head accompanying her dark gaze. 

“Breakfast is ready,” Nico interrupts her thoughts to place a huge plate of food in front of her. 

“You spoil me, future husband,” Piper blows a kiss and giggles as Nico pretends to shoo her kiss away. 

He plops down across from her with his own plate of food and begins to dig in.

Piper groans around the shakshuka that Nico made. He’s not a natural cook, but being the only boy with two sisters who demanded (Bianca demanded, Hazel asked politely) that he wait on them hand and foot meant that he could bake, cook, and clean with the best of them. 

“You’re going to make someone a very, very happy husband one day,” Piper reaches over to pinch his cheeks. 

“Not if those old assholes don’t die anytime soon,” he says. “If they start talking to you about kids, just tell them we plan on having three.” 

Piper chokes, “Three?! Nico!” 

“What’s one more lie?” Nico asks. 

“You’d drown with just one kid, you can’t deal with three.” 

The two of them bicker and eat as the morning light dapples them with softly shining kisses. The cool  breeze gently ruffles through their hair as they gather their dirty dishes and put them in the sink, before Piper attacks Nico and drags him to the bathroom to rinse water in his hair. 

“Why are you so strong?! Stop!” He tries in vain to struggle out of her grasp, but she has an iron grip on his neck. 

“You better stay still when I shave you later.” 

“You won’t dare!” Nico gasps. 

Piper waves a cheerful goodbye to a newly shampooed, blow dried, and shaved Nico, and he gives a wave back before slamming his front door in her face.  

She takes the bus back to her home, a condo she just moved into this year, and settled in front of her computers. Piper makes herself another cup of coffee and cracks her neck, she plugs in the USB file Nico gifted her, and goes to work. 

The files were a lot, it had all the dealings that Pom Corp, Nico’s family’s holdings, had with the Triumvirate holdings. 

Ledgers, mergers, deals, as well as pages and pages of email chains. She prints everything out and begins to sort through them before adding them to the other mountain of stacks of files she’s already compiled on the Triumvirate Holdings. Five cups of coffee later, she wakes from her bleary daze of concentration and notices that she ran out of her instant coffee mix. She debates cracking open the forbidden red bull, but her stuttering heartbeat tells her that it’s a bad idea. 

Piper yawns, and cracks open the window to let in fresh air, she leans a tired cheek against the cool ledge. The sun is already setting, how has time passed so fast? Piper gets up and leaves her task to take a quick trip in the kitchen, where she is disappointed by the lack of food in her refrigerator. Piper glares at its emptiness, and spares a glance at the luscious mini herb garden that’s flourishing on the windowsill. 

“Don’t mock me,” She says to them, like a normal person would to inanimate plants. In her imagination they wiggle back mockingly. Her condo was entirely full of plants whose purpose of existence was to mock her, plants that couldn’t be transported to Hylla’s home, ones that Piper begrudgingly potted and brought to her new condo after Reyna left their shared home. 

The first week she moved out, she imagines with viciousness Reyna’s taut expression when she eventually returns to her home to see a dead garden and even more dead houseplants. Eventually Nico nags at her enough that she takes it upon herself to divide Reyna’s various plant babies between her, Nico, and Hylla’s place. 

Piper would just have to live with  less schaudenfreude that comes from thinking about Reyna’s expression on seeing her house empty of plants instead. She glares at the shelf of orchids that Reyna used to fawn over when Piper lounged around their home in nothing but a thong and a bathrobe. One of their petals take this moment to slowly fall off its stem. Piper sticks her tongue out at it, another completely normal interaction between a normal human being and her ex-fiancee’s beloved houseplant. 

“She better come back from her worktrip soon and get these assholes out of my place,” Piper mumbles to herself as she pulls out her wallet and shoves it into her cargo shorts. She’s given up on cooking, there’s a Thai place nearby with good vegetarian options that she’d shove her face into. 

There’s a fancy pale green electronic vehicle parked right in front of Thai To-Go! when Piper leaves the store with her curry and Thai iced tea, but she doesn’t notice it until she’s barrelling into the owner who took that exact moment to come out of her car and make her way to the restaurant. 

Piper yelps as her curry spills out through its poorly packaged container, and as it splatters out of its plastic bag and onto the very expensive looking white blouse that the driver was wearing. 

“My curry!” She gives a look at the frowning woman with her dinner all over her clothes, she looks vaguely familiar but Piper couldn’t place her face at the moment. “And your shirt! I’m so sorry, are you okay? How hot is it?”

The woman gingerly pinches the shirt so that the worst parts of the spill isn’t touching her skin directly. “I’m fine, it certainly is quite hot. Smells nice, good to know the place Google picked is delicious,” She jokes, her dark eyes crinkle up in a smile. It’s only at this time that Piper notices how beautiful the woman she embarrassed herself in front of is. Her olive toned skin glinted in the waning sunlight, and her eyes were shaped like drooping black diamonds. She towered a few inches above Piper, and her voice was lulling with a slight accent. 

“I, um, I live above the restaurant,” Piper points at the direction of her place. “I have a spare shirt, let me make it up to you, I don’t want you to walk around with a spill like this because of me!:

The woman’s eyes brighten up, “Thank you, that would be very helpful.” 

She follows Piper up the stairs, walking a little bit closer to Piper than she was used to. Piper could almost feel her dark hair curling up against her own skin, as the strange mix of curry and what the other woman smelled like twisted together in the air. She recognized the scent as pomegranate scented perfume, it was very similar to the bottle that Nico had gifted her last Christmas. 

Piper leads the mystery woman into her condo, thanking the heavens that she didn’t have any time to create a mess since she last cleaned it up two days ago. The only mess was in the walkout alcove that doubled as a terrace in the summer and a greenhouse in the winter, it was what made Piper fall in love with this place. Currently it’s littered with Piper’s bookbinding projects and beadwork designs.  

“Feel free to take a shower,” Piper says, well, squeaks. It’s been so long since she was near someone who was her exact type that she’s forgotten how to emote properly. 

“Thank you,” the woman says again. “I wanted to ask, because I have a meeting in a while, but I was afraid it’d be awkward.” 

“No, not awkward at all!” Piper shoves a towel in her direction. “I’m going to get a shirt for you!” 

Piper rests her head against a wall and tells herself to get it together. Now is not the time to be attracted to mystery woman! She hears the shower in the bathroom start to run, and realize that she hasn’t given the woman a shirt yet, so Piper rushes to her room and rummage around her outrageously sized closet for a generic white blouse. She scrolls through her phone while she waits for the woman to finish showering, and texts Jason so he can receive her inner screaming. 

Piper: THERE’S A HOT WOMAN SHOWERING IN MY PLACE RIGHT NOW. 

Jason: Nice, good job! Knew you could do it! 

Piper: no :( she’s only here because i spilled curry on her. 

Jason: Oh that’s a real meetcute. But aren’t you and Nico “dating”? Is this the best time for hot women

Piper: nothing’s going to happen, she’s just borrowing my shower

Jason: Oh...is that a good sign or a bad sign...? 

Jason: Will Nico be at your place soon? I have to return the tupperware Hazel gave me. 

Piper: didn’t i already give you hazel’s number? 

Jason doesn’t reply for a while after Piper’s last text, which is just as well because it’s at this moment that the woman walks out of Piper’s shower looking like she was wearing nothing but a towel. 

Upon a second glance, Piper realizes that she was wearing her slacks and a bra underneath, but covering her shirtless top with the towel. 

Piper’s eyes locks onto her, the steam billows out from behind her. 

The woman’s eyes trace over Piper’s body, and the towel falls to the ground. 

“Oops,” she says, still looking at Piper. 

Piper slowly lets the blouse in her hand flutter down to the  ground as well. She sees that the woman’s waist had a tattoo wrapped around it, it was a scene of a hunt.  Under her ribcage on the right, a beautiful stag was rearing its hooves and attempting to escape the arrows of a huntress under the left side of her ribcage and closer to her abdomen. In the center of her chest, Piper sees a tattoo of a skeletal horse head. 

“Want to take a closer look?” the woman offers, and Piper walks closer as if mesmerized. 

“It’s beautiful,” Piper’s hand hovers over the designs before the woman gently guides fingers to trace the lines of her ink. 

“This is from when I was a teenager, it’s my first one.”

“It’s so intricate,” Piper feels her minty breath and breathes in the heady scent of her perfume- did she reapply her scent? It feels more overwhelming, she keeps moving closer to the woman who keeps backing away and beckoning Piper forward. “It must’ve hurt a lot, especially if it’s your first time.” 

Piper’s the one who’s backed the woman into the wall, yet she’s the one who feels trapped as the woman casually leans against the wall as she loosely circles her arms around Piper’s waist. Piper lifts up her face and is met with a kiss, her lips are soft and she tastes like how a beautiful moonlit evening in the spring feels. Her arms gather Piper closer, and Piper melts at the gentleness and circles her own arms around the woman’s neck. 

Their kisses don’t feel like a lust fuelled frenzy. Rather, they take their time, their kisses punctuated by little nips and cheeky tongue swipes. Piper feels the stranger’s hands come up, one cupping her face and the other placing a strong hold on the back of her neck. Whenever Piper gets a bit too excited, the woman squeezes her neck like she was an excitable kitten and Piper shamefully backs off, only to be met with more kisses and gentle nibbles against her throat. 

Just as Piper was finally about to take the bra off of her mystery seductress, a cellphone rings and breaks the two of them out of their reverie for each other. 

“Cazzo,” the woman curses adorably and in a slightly familiar way. “Sorry, I almost forgot about my meeting. What’s your name? I also forgot to ask.”

“Uh-” Piper’s still reeling from the haze of her first makeout session in years with someone who wasn’t Reyna. 

Her phone rings again, this time it sounds even louder. She walks briskly to the blouse that Piper dropped and puts it on, grabbing her phone in the meantime and takes out a business card. She winks at Piper and slides it inside Piper’s shirt.

How was Piper supposed to speak when something like that happens? 

“Ciao bella,” She walks away to the front door and finally answers the call. “Nico, calm down! I’m five minutes away, promise, be there soon.” 

The door shuts and slams Piper out of her brainfog. 

She looks down and clumsily takes out the business card that the woman handed her. 

Bianca di Angelo 

Shit.

A/N: if you liked this pls consider giving kudos on ao3 as well <3

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2023 - Follower Recs

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

For our Rewind 2023, our dear followers were also able to submit Follower Recs of their favourite stories published in 2023 for you to enjoy! Thank you to everyone who shared their recs and make sure to give the authors some love!

~*~

Lovely fic, the worldbuilding really got me hook, it is background but absolutely fascinating. -Anon

The Lines of your Soul

by athena_crikey

M, 24k, Wangxian & Nielan

Summary: At this point he just wants to get Lan Zhan horizontal so he can sleep off the drugs that are making him make little confused snuffling noises and ask questions like “How soft is purple?” and “Where did the moon go?” and “Why does Wei Ying smile all the time?” Lan Zhan under the influence is cute, and it makes Wei Wuxian genuinely angry because he cannot appreciate it. This is not something Lan Zhan chose, this is not even an accident, this is an intentional violation and none of the sounds or questions or wide-eyed glances Lan Zhan is giving him are his choice.

~*~

Not an easy read, there is a lot of hurt there, but how lwj and wwx behaved in such an awful situation really got to me. -Anon

swallowing rocks, swallowing peach skins

by AvoOwO

M, 24k, Wangxian

Summary: There is an indescribable rage boiling within Lan Wangji's chest. Lan Wangji has often heard stories of unsuspecting travelers being taken from their camp within the night, held against their wills only to be somehow found weeks later, dead and in the most horrid of states. Stories are hard enough to read about. It is worse, he thinks, when it is Wei Ying he is here with, gagged and bound in the same way. They walk, and walk, and walk, and they do not stop.

~*~

Lwj and wwx are just. such disasters. and I loved their jobs, especially lwj. it was a very enjoyable read. -Anon

To See You (Again)

by FrameofMind (@frameofmind6), Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle)

E, 84k, Wangxian

Part of Bottomji Big Bang 2023

Summary: A new job brings Wei Ying to London, and back into Lan Zhan's life. Many things have changed since their time in boarding school (Lan Zhan is out of the closet, arranges charcuterie boards, stocks a fine bar…), but their friendship slots right back into place like no time has passed. Wei Ying is a little perplexed by the fact that Lan Zhan apparently doesn't have any interest in dating anyone despite being an obvious catch—but hey, at least that means he doesn't have to fight anyone for Lan Zhan's time and attention. And besides, it's not like Wei Ying is in any big rush to find himself a girlfriend either. It’s all working out great!

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This story is a ton of fun and such a different and interesting concept. @danegen

Pairfire

by PaidSubscription

E, 65k, Wangxian

Part of Bottomji Big Bang 2023

Summary: Welcome, young cultivators, to the most important event of your lives: your Coming of Age Symposium. At dawn tomorrow, you will be assigned to your pairmate. You will then complete the following courses together. Week 1: Love Languages (core course) Week 2: Conflict Resolution (core course) Week 3: Guided Gender Selection (core course, ongoing) Week 4: Caring for Your Pairmate in Distress (elective) Week 5: Heat Week (elective) On your final day you will choose which permanent A/B/O gender is right for you. We will provide guidance as you try each of them in the coming weeks. Good luck. OR: WangXian are unexpectedly paired for a relationship course. Shenanigans, pining, gender feels and horniness ensues. With art by Beanie.

~*~

This series was so much fun, especially watching Lan Wangji's lust for Wei Wuxian from Su She's POV. And I'm grateful the author included a second part so we can see all the bits we missed and how wangxian got together. Also lwj's competency kink for wwx's brilliance was gold. @gentil-minou

💙 The epic college romance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan

by KizuKatana (@kizukatana)

E, WIP, Series, 57k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary part one: The (bitter) third party pov of the epic college romance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, as told from the pettiest NPC to ever exist. - - - - - A new student transferred into the university in their second year, and Su She was gleeful to see how much Lan Zhan was irritated by him from the very first day that the student (Wei something) showed up late for class with a ratty hoodie pulled up over his head and proceeded to sleep through lecture. Finally, someone else would be the butt of everyone’s jokes as they watched Wei Ying constantly try and fail to get Lan Zhan’s attention. When midterm grades came out, Su She was expecting the guy to be humiliated. That was… not what happened. Worse still, Lan Zhan was now actually turning his head to look at the guy when he spoke. And... wait, was Lan Zhan… putting his hand on the guy’s ass?! No. Su She does not accept this.

~*~

I love historical aus and Greaser!WWX with GoldenBoy!LWJ is one we know well, butI love this fic for all the heart it has and the way it covers setting-typical homophobia. Wangxian get a happy ending and then the epilogue at the end really just made me feel all kinds of feelings about being queer. @gentil-minou

Mad about the Boy

by TriviasFolly (@triviasfolly)

M, 62k, Wangxian

Summary: It's 1954, and Lan Zhan's life would be going well if it wasn't for the charming Wei Ying. Did he say charming? He meant annyoing. If it wasn't for that smile Lan Zhan could accept the future planned for him, the job as Cheif Surgeon who returned home to a demure wife who'd cook him dinner and asking him about his day. Instead, he finds himself dreaming about something more. So when Wei Ying offers him a deal, one that would get him out of Lan Zhan's life he took it. When the evening goes wrong, Lan Zhan expects his life to be over. Instead, he finds it's just the start of a new chapter.

~*~

The way this author made the story of the Scarlet Pumpenel fit in mdzs is, in my opinion, masterful. The arranged marriage is built on devastating misunderstanding after devastating misunderstanding, but the identity shenanigans are so fun! Other highlights include Jiang sect love and wangxian adopting not only A-Yuan but MXY as well. So much fun and an epic adventure! @gentil-minou

The Scarlet Lotus

by rainbowninja167 (@rainbowtitania)

M, 137k, Wangxian

Summary: In the years following the Sunshot Campaign, the mysterious, masked cultivator who’d defeated Wen Ruohan took on many identities: the Yiling Patriarch, leader of the Wen rebels, enemy of the Jin Sect, practitioner of wicked tricks. His true name was shrouded in mystery. He always wore a mask. He carried no sword; wore no clan colors or insignia. Clouds of resentful energy clung to him as he walked. But there was one thing that absolutely everyone agreed on: the Yiling Patriarch could not possibly be from the Jiang Sect. Or: a Scarlet Pimpernel-inspired fix-it featuring Wei Wuxian in disguise, Lan Wangji determined to bring the nefarious Yiling Patriarch to justice, and the hijinks that ensue when you accidentally marry your greatest enemy/love of your life.

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Another fun and sexy fic built on misunderstandings but I love the tone of this one! There's a lot of heart in this fic along with some real world issues along with just lots of wwx love, which makes this fic something i reread again and again! @gentil-minou

With No Particular Affection

by Chrononautical (@chrononautintraining)

E, 92k, Wangxian

Summary: A prominent physicist and professor, Wei Ying has built a life for himself in Chicago. He's safe, he's happy, and he has plans for his future. Unfortunately, those plans are derailed the moment he finds out his brother is in trouble. To save the family business, it will have to be Wei Ying's life on the line. He has to marry his old high school crush, Lan Zhan.

~*~

wangxian exploring their sexuality while getting to act their age in cloud recesses is such a wonderful premise, and I love the way this fic lets them not being good at it. Also the little excerpts from the book throughout were such fun and always made me giggle! @gentil-minou

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures

by occultings (microcomets) (@microcomets)

E, 31k, Wangxian

Part of the good place server exchange 2023

Summary: Lan Wangji says, “I am also looking to . . . gain practical experience. It seemed mutually advantageous.” “Mutually advantageous,” Wei Wuxian echoes. “Wait. Do you mean I’d get to . . . ?” Lan Wangji stares at him. “Practice — on you?” Wei Wuxian finishes, his eyes round with disbelief. — During a shared summer studying in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian diligently pursue an informed sexual education. What could possibly be the harm in some mutual learning?

~*~

the most heartbreaking, angsty, canon setting arranged marriage au i've read so far, in the best way. We get to see things from LWJ's pov and while his actions make sense, it's still so devastating as we watch WWX be affected by it all. The happy ending makes the hurt all the better too! @gentil-minou

💙 Concord

by Deastar (@youhideastar)

T, 41k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji hopes, somewhat frivolously, that his betrothed might find him an acceptable companion. Neither he nor Wei Wuxian are able to bear children, so there will be no need to share a marital bed; that should make it easier for the two of them to reach a natural, comfortable equilibrium. Two strings played in harmony: this is Lan Wangji’s quiet hope, as he arranges the Jingshi to accommodate a second inhabitant. Perhaps, he thinks, they might even become friends.

~*~

MothXian and WitchJi!!!!! The art for this au is always so lovely, and this fic fits it perfectly! The author has this gorgeous, dreamy prose that really enhances the setting and the sweetness of wangxian in this is so beautiful. @gentil-minou

light a lantern (and guide me home)

by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (@xuanxuanwo)

T, 63k, Wangxian

Summary: At first, he thinks he’s caught a bird; it’s the size of one of his palms and wrapped fully in damp feathers. As he shuffles toward the beam of light that streams through the open window, he wonders how it managed to fly into his lantern, shut the door, and latch it against the wild gales of the wind. Then, he takes a closer look, thumbing across its feathers, and realizes that they’re not feathers at all. They’re leaves. Startled, Lan Zhan shifts as gently as possible and, using the tip of his finger, parts them to reveal a body, complete with tiny limbs and a small face, all of it wrapped in the dress made from peony petals. “Oh,” Lan Zhan breathes softly, heart clenching. “Oh, what are you?” -- A thunderstorm brings tea master and herbalist Lan Zhan a companion he never knew he needed. A tale of love, loss, and letting go.

~*~

Rockstar!WWX and Bookseller!LWJ and they are just the cutest. Notting Hill is a classic romcom and this fic fits the romcom vibe perfectly. @gentil-minou

When the Lights Come Up

by brooklinegirl

E, 50k, Wangxian

Summary: Lan Zhan's brother draws to a halt next to him, staring at the man on the other side of the counter. "Oh, it is you, isn't it?" The man, still propped against the counter on his elbow, gives Lan Huan a grin, then directs it at Lan Zhan again. "I don't know," he says. "Is it? Am I?" "You are." Lan Huan is hurrying around to the other side of the counter, a wide smile on his face, while Lan Zhan looks on, feeling more and more perplexed, like he's stepped into some alternate universe where absolutely nobody is making any sense at all. "Wei Wuxian! Lan Zhan, do you know who this is? It's Wei Wuxian!" Lan Huan is reaching for the man's hand, and he pushes himself lazily to standing, shaking Lan Huan's hand warmly. "In the flesh," he says. "You caught me." "My goodness." Lan Huan is staring at him like he's never seen a human being before in his life. "What on earth are you doing here, of all places?

~*~

magical wangxian who adopt mo xuanyu in a setting that's written so vividly, the whole place comes alive! it's part of a larger series but it can be read alone, but most importantly the characters are so patient and kind with such great moments between them all @gentil-minou

quiet, blooming hours

by Sanguis (@bel-ennui)

T, 13k, Wangxian

Summary: Fingers push through the earth, and a long lost boy takes the first gasping breath of his second life. The house of buried things has a new surprise for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[galebrainrott]

All of Gale's Datamined Epilogue Scenes

CURRENTLY A WIP Dead/God Gale is for last because I honestly don't like to think about it. PS: I can't SC the Devnotes so I just type it out. Does any have any tips? Only romanced dialogues btw

Gale Dekarios

Entering the Party - From Waterdeep

Entering the Party - Adventurer

Idles + Tara

Conversation

(In Waterdeep)

Also lol "Your tentacles are looking wonderfully moist this evening." Gale the man that you are....

Devnote : Relaxing, just needed some reassurance.

"You are the happiness I never dreamed I could deserve." GALEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

PC's thoughts on Waterdeep

(Stayed in Baldur's Gate)

Devnote : Bouyant, encouranging

"'Home.' How I love to share that word with you."

Devnote : Excited to clarify that he's a changed man.

Knitting, painting, writing... Oh Gale....

"I was afraid to so much as dream of a night like this. To hope that my life might amount to more than lonely, bitter disappointment. And then I found you."

This is Lae'zel origin but I can't leave it out it's too sweet

Devnote : HACK VOHN-fin DOO (meaning: 'Source of my joy.' -how githyanki declare their love for another).

[esther-dot]

Jonsa Reunion

Safe and Sound 1k (I just have to highlight that this was posted in 2014)

Sansa escapes Baelish and finds her way to Castle Black.

Kiss of Undeath ficlet by @haraways

Sansa brings Jon back with a kiss.

Without You I Am Nothing 1k by @asbestosmouth

Castle Black is monochrome, but Sansa blazes like the fires of Rh'llor. Jon cannot help but burn.

Gifsets: Jonsa Hug by @joanna-lannister, Jonsa Hug by @c-sand, The Girl in Grey, Jonsa Hug 1, 2 by @kitnjon

Art: Jonsa Hug, Jonsa Hug by @vierverdeen, Jonsa Hug by @themarmic

Jon Comes Back Wrong

grave-dirt 3k by @charmtion

The edge of the world. The yawning dark. In his chest, a strange sluggish beat.

back in the pulse 2k WIP by @chispas-and-broken-bindings

(Who are you?) A dead man. A monster. The mistake of many and one. (And what have you lost?) Everything. (And what have you found?) You. (And what will you do with me?) Protect you. Always.

Made of Echos and Ice 1k by @thewolvescalledmehome

Ever since coming down from the Eyrie, Sansa has had the same dream. A wolf with white paws pacing in the snow. When she learns of the betrayal at the Wall, Sansa decides to do something about her dream.

i fall to pieces (when i'm with you) 70k by usuallysunny

"Go North. Only North. Jon is Lord Commander at the Castle Black. He'll help you." He'd had good intentions, this broken shadow of a man who used to be Theon, and he couldn't have known. Sansa finds a Lord Commander at Castle Black. He has steel-grey eyes, her father's eyes, and a dark beard framing a strong jaw, and he looks and sounds and moves like Jon... But he's not Jon.

Always Her ficlet by @temporal-tempest

Jon Snow came back darker, unreachable until her hand touched his face. This is what happens when you threaten that which has become the only warmth in a dark heart.

At Castle Black

My eyes were wide open 10k by @eruherdiriel

She hesitates, then reaches for his free hand, his other still tangled in Ghost’s fur. Their palms meet, hers warm against his chilly one, and the relief that rushes through him at her touch almost makes him close his eyes and forget the throbbing pain. “Do you remember what happened?” All he recalls are knives in the dark and cold, bitter cold. * It is in dreams that Jon begins to remember who he is.

Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten 2k by QueenOfSloths

She remembers the kiss that he took. The only thing she doesn’t remember is him taking it. There are times when she is almost certain that she gave it willingly.

'cause i know that it's delicate 4k by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

Set during "Book of the Stranger," immediately after Sansa arrives at the Wall. He goes to build the fire back up, and for a few minutes he stays silent, kneeling at the hearth, not looking at her. Finally he clears his throat. “I know,” he begins, “it’s not exactly what you’re used to — ” “You’d be surprised what I’m used to.”

make your fingers soft and light 10k by @ladyalice101

Jon goes quiet again, and his hand retracts, but just as quickly he is touching her again, oil on his fingers. He works methodically, moving from one wound to the next, one scar to another, from the base of her back to the top of her spine. It’s so gentle, so caring, and the longer it goes on the more Sansa relaxes, the safer she feels. Her eyes dip close under his rhythmic ministrations, and her mind goes blank, and she starts to feel the familiar lull of sleep edge around her mind. “This is supposed to make the scars fade?” Jon asks as he finishes up, his warm hands leaving her back, making her feel cold and startling her from her reverie. “Yes.” She isn’t sure she imagines the tightness in his voice when he speaks again. “If you are to do this every night, then I will gladly assist you.” // Jon rubs a soothing balm into Sansa's scars every night. But that's it. Nothing more. Definitely not. He's just there to help her do what she can't do herself.

as the night came down in a Nordic sky ficlet by @miazeklos

During her first night in Castle Black, Sansa reunites with the true North, and Jon welcomes her home.

Cold Nights at Castle Black ficlet by @estherruth-jonsatrash

They were grown now, childhood behind them. Yet they had been sharing a bed more like children, with the cold at Castle Black leaving them in need of warmth. At least at first.

How I wish you would take me for granted ficlet by @trollslanda

Sometimes her hands would shake- Solely in private, when she broke her quiet surface to gasp for air. Around others she still had a mental block, passively guarding her, bringing out the Stark iron. It made her keep her back straight and eyes steady, put up a solid front. Sometimes it felt like she was rusting from the inside and her brittle bones would never be whole again. --- Set shortly after Sansa has arrived at Castle Black, when she's still learning to feel safe. As it turns out, Jon is really good at that kind of thing.

Remedy ficlet by @wildflower-daydreamer

The night Jon and Sansa reunite at Castle Black.

To break and to mend ficlet @dreams-for-spring

In those moments nothing else matters and they forget what they have lost; in those moments they are more than the sum of their broken parts.

In the quiet of the night 4k by dreams-for-spring

It becomes a habit; each night she unlatches her chamber door, and each night Jon enters just as bashfully as before. Some nights he brings terrible sour wine, and others bitter ale for them to share as they sit around the hearth speaking of everything that has happened–everything except what has passed between him and his black brothers. She knows that is a topic he is not ready to share. Still, she does not find sleep when he leaves, but at least for those brief hours she is not alone, and something small inside of her begins to burn brighter with each night that passes. She tries to ignore the voice that tells her it is hope; hope is a dangerous thing for people like them.

Tous Deux On est Repartis dans le Tourbillon de la Vie 1k by @melimelo-ao3

He couldn’t even begin to picture what she had endured, what she had lived through. Yet, hearing her pleading in the night, he would give anything to know, to be able to understand her, to soothe her. He had only ever wanted to soothe her.

Gifsets: Where Will We Go by c-sand, Brienne Reacts to Jonsa, New Dress by @jonstarks How Could We Know, Sansa Tries Ale, Where Will We Go, Sansa Making Jon's Cloak, I Made This for You by kitnjon

Traveling the North

Five Times They Touch 1k by @justchunkit

She doesn’t touch him for days. Weeks. They travel from keep to stronghold, living in close quarters as they’d never done even as children. She is so close, but an icy veneer has covered the exhausted girl he’d started to know, and they can hardly exchange a good morning without it evolving into an argument.

Some Love Stories Need a Little Help 2k @graceverse

Or how Tormund effectively makes Jon share a tent with Sansa

Unnatural 2k by @amymel86

Once he is close enough, she leaps at him, arms wrapping him up and his nose buried in her copper hair. The shuddering exhale he expels is the most amount of sound he’s made in days but all he can hear is Sansa’s sniffling and the way their two hearts talk to one another in beats of the same song.

Gifsets: Arguing, Eye Contact, Jon Reacting to Sansa by jonstarks Side by Side by @baelerion

Pre Battle of the Bastards

we may only have this night 2k by wearycities

She summoned an image of Jon in her mind. When he saw her, at Castle Black. His eyes, his face. His hands letting go of the railing, like it had burned him. She could not stop thinking about his hands. She had turned the memory over and over in her mind on countless sleepless nights, wondering what it meant. After her argument with Jon the night before the Battle of the Bastards, Sansa returned to his tent.

The Madness of Dead and Broken Things 1k by @estherruth-jonsatrash

The first time, Jon tells himself it’s the last time. Jon gives into his feelings for Sansa the night before the Battle of the Bastards, telling himself he'll die the next day. He isn't prepared for the after of survival.

the night before the fight ficlet by @sailorshadzter

jon & sansa spend a night together before the battle of the bastards. pre parental reveal hookup, read at your own risk. nsfw.

Before the Storm 1k

Snowflakes fell from the grey sky, covering the ground in white even more than it already was. Grey and white, Sansa thought to herself. The Stark colors.

A gaze across a field 1, 2 ficlets by fedonciadale

Sansa's thoughts as she contemplates the possible outcome of the battle.

Gifsets: Arguing, You Don't Have to Be Here, I'll protect You I Promise by jonstarks, Pre and During BotB by baelerion, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by kitnjon, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by c-sand

Post Battle of the Bastards

Bloodstains and Stitches Chapter 1 and 2 by @trollslanda

Two scenes set after Battle of the Bastards: 1. In the courtyard, Jons pov. Post-battle calmdown and fluff I guess but also there's dead bodies and stuff. I dunno. 2. Sansa cleaning his wounds and stitching him up, her pov. A pretty sweet scene where they get a moment to breathe.

A Little Friction ficlet by @justchunkit

“You don’t know anything about me.” “Because you won’t tell me anything!” After the Battle of the Bastards, Jon and Sansa try to get to know each other.

Of Justice and Ghosts 1k by @lurikko

He knows his sister is watching him carefully like they are the only two humans left in the world, as they in a way are, and that makes his every remaining piece crumble.

Ghosts that We Knew 7k @the-prophet-lemonade

In the wake of the Battle of the Bastards, and the proclamation of the North's fealty to the Starks once more, Jon and Sansa see the ghosts of their family all-around. Sometimes, it becomes difficult to separate the past from the present when so many that they love are dead. A series of vignettes based around "nostalgia", and Jon & Sansa compared to Ned & Catelyn and the rest of their family.

they say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners 14k

Doesn’t have enough time to reminisce on the past because she’s turned around, and he’s seen her face, and it’s her. Can’t be anyone but her even underneath all that smudged dirt on her pale cheeks. Would know the red of her hair anywhere, he thinks. Doesn’t linger on the why, and instead descends down the steps and towards her. She’s turned her body so she’s facing him now, her eyes tracking his every move, his doing the same. They’re so in sync it’s terrifying, really.

Five Kisses 1k by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

The five kisses that Jon and Sansa have shared.

Undisclosed Desires 4k Nina36

“Why did you stop?” She asked. I was ashamed. He was yours. I was terrified that you saw who I am. He was yours to kill. It was what you needed.

bet you didn't know that i was dangerous 4k by @ladyalice101

“I mean that your brother took a woman to bed, and when he had his way with her, he said your name into her ear over and over again.” // In which Littlefinger tests for Jon's weaknesses, and discovers a secret.

Soiled 5k by @orangeflavoryawp

"'Talk to me, Sansa,' he pleads, voice wavering, and she shuts her eyes to the sound. Like a gale. Like a mountain coming down. This is how it empties from her. 'What do you want me to say?"' she bites out, voice quaking." - Jon and Sansa. The start of their descent.

Dark in Bloom 8k by orangeflavoryawp

"His gravity wavers, the axis of his world tilted to the measure of her lips." - Jon and Sansa. The stain of desire bleeds slowly between them.

Hallowed 5k by orangeflavoryawp

“’Tell me,’ he growls, more demand than he’s ever given her – crown or not – and the feeling is heady in its fervency. Sansa stares him down, mouth a harsh frown. She doesn’t resist his hold, doesn’t ease into it either. ‘He says your affections for me aren’t… brotherly.’” - Jon and Sansa. An encounter with Lord Baelish brings the truth of their desires to light.

but still you stumble, feet give way, outside the world seems a violent place 3k by @parkersedith

When she looks at him, she cannot see anyone other than Jon, especially with him wearing a simple breeches and tunic, divested of all ornaments, even Longclaw. She can only see Jon, not her bastard half-brother, not the King in the North, not the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, not a wildling, but only Jon, the Jon who took Winterfell back with her, the Jon who fought their battle, the Jon who has been there, at her side, ever since she found him again. or; instead of roaming winterfell when she cannot sleep, sansa goes to jon, and to jon's bed. it's not quite as illicit as it sounds, and gives them a chance to finally, truly, talk

In the quiet of the night 4k by @dreams-for-spring

It becomes a habit; each night she unlatches her chamber door, and each night Jon enters just as bashfully as before. Some nights he brings terrible sour wine, and others bitter ale for them to share as they sit around the hearth speaking of everything that has happened–everything except what has passed between him and his black brothers. She knows that is a topic he is not ready to share. Still, she does not find sleep when he leaves, but at least for those brief hours she is not alone, and something small inside of her begins to burn brighter with each night that passes. She tries to ignore the voice that tells her it is hope; hope is a dangerous thing for people like them.

love is more than telling me you want it 2k

When he smiles at her, she feels warmth flooding back into her bones. She’d almost forgotten what it feels like, she’s been cold for so long. Sansa and Jon learn to be something other than ships passing in the night.

Gifsets: Jon Looking at Sansa by jonstarks, Sansa Looking at Jon by baelerion, Forehead Kiss by joanna-lannister, Winter Is Here by kitnjon, Forehead Kiss by c-sand

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - next week -> ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Sarcasm's Rec List 2: Electric Boogaloo

[Thank you to everyone who voted!]

Masterlist Previous Rec List Mundane Macabre (main blog)

[Hardcover/Anger Management ship]

Red is Hood’s Favorite Color by mango_sushi98

Sonnet 29 at the End by ew_selfish_art The Rapid Growth of the Fenton family tree by Lunaml (First entry of the series)

If you find a vigilante in the dumpster by lunamugetsu (WIP)

The Night Will Come But Not To Stay by ectoentity (WIP)

Friendly Neighborhood Vigilante by Elizabehta_Beilschmidt  (WIP)

Somehow whatever’s eternal in me knows whatever’s eternal in you by DemonicoAngel (WIP) (This has to be one of my favorite works in the hardcover ship) To hell and back by Ocearna (WIP)

The Night Will Come But Not To Stay by ectoentity Advent Reunion by Shynnohwen (First entry of the son of the hood series)

[General Recs/no particular tag]

This Way Madness Lies by ConspiracyCrows (WIP)

Foundling At The Door by Spaced_Ace (First entry of the House of Elle series)

I can be both even if it’s hard (and it’s hard) by multi_fandomfreak (WIP) (What if Sam and Tuck went to get Jazz before Danny came back out of the portal?)

Staring is rude but so am I by Imshookandbi (Let Sam unleash that anger at her parents, as a treat)

Ghosts on a plane by NightShiftShenanigans

We All Have Our Christmas Traditions by Multisakublossom (Tucker-centric)

Alfred and the Tiny Attic Squatters by Shynnohwen (WIP) (Alfred is the real patriarch of the batfam, we all know this)

Like and Survive - Phantom's Guide to Young Hero Survival by robinasnyder (WIP) (Grown up danny, first hero, gives life advice, makes ripples) Visitant Lights by Shynnohwen

5 + 1 Meeting the Nightingales by elizabthemerald

Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away by FearlessHades (WIP)

Son of the hood? By Valiantlybold (first entry of the Danny Wayne series, wonderful) Wayne’s Haunted Mansion by Tathartiel (WIP) Spelunking by SummersSixEcho (First of the Ghost in the Family series) regular boy: daniel wayne by phantom_o_writes (WIP) Dad from Mars by Animefangirl1221 (WIP)

Undead Lockpicking or How Danny shamed Superman into changing his locks by Milaley Contractual obligations by Calix, Tathartiel (A twist on the usual DC recs: This one is steeped to perfection with Hellblazer lore. Wonderful and epic, well done to the authors!)  

[Dead Tired]

The Batfamily Can’t Communicate by miistical

Bitter, had the Heart by CastrianAmore (WIP)

[Demon Twins]

The Sketchbook by Notrus You’re Not Who I’d Thought You’d Be, and I’m Glad For It by Nanenna

The Parent Trap by Nanenna

my starlight by hollowgast1  (WIP)

Loss Like A Severed Limb by Littlestartopaz

The Devil’s After Both of Us by TheWritingOwl

[Dead Silent/Deaths Dance]

Full Time Hero, Full Time Disaster by halfagone

Lex Luthor’s Ascent from Supervillainy to fatherhood by halfagone (WIP) (This feels like reading an epic) By My Count by TheStrange_One (WIP)

[Dead Serious]

Artificial Wingman by TheSleepyKitsune (WIP)

Love Like You by DisillusionedDanny (WIP)

Press Heart to Subscribe by Die_Erlkonigin6083 (WIP)

Webbing Up A Family by Agelaius_Ace

Peter the Pizza Guy by Irisen  (WIP) Along Came A Spider by RagsnBones (Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker) Butler Spider by Danny_shells (WIP)

Time flies by (bye) by whyiseverynametaken

Little Red Spider Hood by Cashmire

You With the Watercolor Eyes by DefinitelyNotIndecisive (WIP) A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba (WIP) Homesick by NotSoSweetHeh

Red and Blue are hero colors by Cashmire (WIP)

Spider-Man or Spider-Spider by disappear_rapidly  (WIP)

Spiderhead by emmacortana

Archnomaly by Songue85 (WIP)

Nothing Left to Lose (Dick in New York) by seekrest (WIP)

A/N: Congrats to 3am me for double checking the links worked properly. I hope y'all enjoy these reads!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for this-was-a-terrible-idea; Jackson Kyle shows up in Gotham.

“I’ve met a lot of Superboys,” Jackson says, back to the bitter smile. “And a Supergrrrl, too. I was the only one who . . . wasn’t.” 

The only one whose Tim Drake was dead, Bruce can’t help but suspect is the actual end of that sentence. 

Unless . . . 

“Except for Black Zero, obviously,” Jackson says, and that bitter smile twists. 

And he still doesn’t look at Tim. 

Bruce watches Jackson in silence for a long moment. Jackson doesn’t fill the silence himself. Seems perfectly comfortable in it, in fact. 

He can’t imagine Kon ever being the same. 

“B,” Tim says warily. “This is . . .” 

“Black Zero is neutralized, to the best of our reality's knowledge,” Bruce says. More intel that’s not worth holding back right now. 

Or he's compromised and saying too much. That's less likely, but not something he's ruled out. 

“Kinda figured that when he didn't come back and conquer us, yeah,” Jackson says, wry and humorless. “It was a fucking mess to clean up, though. Not that it matters anymore.” 

Bruce thinks of that code phrase delivered at his front door and tactile telekinesis moving the hands of his study clock to a very specific time and just barely refrains from making the point that they'd bought the people of their reality a little more lifetime, if nothing else. He doesn't actually know how Jackson's reality ended, for one thing. Doesn't know how long it took, or if it was a direct result of Black Zero's interference in it. Doesn't know anything about it at all. 

He should ask. He will ask, obviously. 

But right now, he just keeps thinking about the way Jackson had first looked at him when he'd opened the door to him on the step. 

I fucked up real bad this time, B.

So Bruce knows better, but he still doesn't ask yet. 

“Relevant concerns?” he asks, and says nothing about Paul Westfield or anything related. That's . . . a secondary matter, for the moment. If that. 

Jackson's eyes unfocus briefly, and go just a little dull. 

“No, sir,” he says. “Not to you.” 

Bruce . . . pauses. Waits. Jackson, again, doesn't fill the silence. 

“Relevant to who, then?” Tim asks warily. Jackson doesn't answer him again, either because it's not protocol or because he doesn't want to. Bruce . . . 

He has questions, still. 

He has concerns, still. 

“Why not relevant to me?” he asks, which is a very different question, and Jackson's expression doesn't so much as flicker. 

“My status doesn't matter to you, sir,” he says, as even and toneless as any devastation of a report that Bruce has ever given himself. 

Bruce doesn't think about the pearls. 

“But no injuries to report?” he clarifies, because he's not going to insult Jackson by pretending that wasn't, arguably, the truth. At least the way Jackson clearly meant it, anyway. 

“No injuries to report, sir,” Jackson confirms tonelessly. He said that before, so it's not a surprising response.

But that phrasing might not mean “no injuries”, Bruce suddenly finds himself aware. 

“So you're uninjured?” he checks, and Jackson–pauses, momentarily. Like he might be about to lie. 

Or like he might just be surprised to be asked that. 

“Yes, sir,” he says, his voice a little stilted. “I'm uninjured.” 

The kid stripped down naked in front of him for the decontamination showers, Bruce reminds himself. No blood or bruising or swelling was visible. Color’s within their version’s normal range. No visible injection sites. A scattered scar or two, same as the faint one splitting his eyebrow, but nothing more notable than that. 

Not that any scar on a demi-Kryptonian isn't more notable than usual, of course. 

Much, much more notable.

[boyfridged]

hello! can i request some Jason centric fic recs?

this is actually such a difficult question. in spite of years spent reading jason-centric fanfics, it is very rare that i find something that i genuinely enjoy. still, i do have some favourites that i go back to.

beneficiary by @sirsparklepants (1/1, 2k)

my favourite post-death jay fanfic. it's such a beautiful, bitter-sweet conclusion to his legacy.

untitled by @pendulum-north (1/1)

this is a very short ficlet. absolutely riveting language, as expected of a poet. my favourite take on the canon divergence that is bruce dying instead of jason. would sell my soul for north to actually write more on it.

what the living do by Anonymous (1/1, 6,5k)

stunning. perhaps my all-time favourite. jason believes he's dead. dick takes him on a road trip.

complications by JHSC (1/1, 6k)

i want to tell you so badly why i adore this fanfic but that would spoil the conclusion. so instead i can just tell you that it contains my unpopular agenda for jason's character development.

the (family) doctor's appointment by smleeish (1/1, 4k)

i have some qualms with the minuatiae of this work but this sickfick surprised me with the depth of the character study. the conclusion is so beautiful in the way it gets to the core of jason's values.

jet black crow by starknjarvis (series, 2/2, 19k)

i normally avoid sex-worker aus so please do know that this had to really impress me to be found on this list. the main reason for which it winded up here is a conversation jason has with bruce in the second installment.

the clay steals the clay by zipadeea (1/1, 2,5k)

just give it a read. a haunting... fix-it. i think about the usage of catholic themes in this fanfic often.

PLUTO. by orpheusaki (@damianbugs) (1/1, 22k)

a huge reason for which i love this one so much is the thematic similarity to the earth-51 arc in countdown. there's such good understanding of what made jason who he is as the red hood & his relationship with batman as the symbol and with bruce as his father.

things that make it warm by one_step_closer_to_death (@hopeworth) (1/1, 4k)

my favourite jay & dick fanfic! if you've been following this blog for a while, you know i am very particular about their relationship. you also know that i believe in jason's need to reconnect with his childhood and that dick should be a part of it, and this piece delivers that in the sweetest way.

of broken, blazing wings by FrEShAVocaNoob (44/44, 190k)

before i get to the praise, i have to say that this fanfic does talia very dirty and that i am not a fan of how it deals with mentions of jason's childhood & his robin days. however, it is also 190k of jason having a perpetual mental breakdown and it follows canon event starting from the lost days and finishing with countdown. it has great pacing and an admirable balance of being plot-driven and the focus on character development. jay is so painfully young and lost. i also really enjoyed dick's attitude. it's a riot and an emotional rollercoaster. i will never recover from it.

compulsory (shameless) self-promotion:

leave no trace, a ficlet on ouroboros.

black out days, a lost days au which is not a story at all. about talia, jason, the need to mythologise and staying away.

and my wip robin (vol 2): future nostalgia, a jay lives au that is to contain follow major batman plotpoints such no man's land and murderer/fugitive.

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

KICTTC 5

I'm BACK helloooo! Oh my goodness friends! I have so much to tell you all! So I kinda was collar grabbed by this story so my edit of chapter 4 is SO different from what I posted here, SOOOOO I'm posting a bit of the edited Ch4 so no one misses out on plot! ahhh I've been so excited to share this all with you!!!! Transference chapter 3 is in the works as well as a secret WIP! I really wanna focus of my first two stories though so Idk when that will be up or what an update schedule might look like.

Anyways the Angst is strong, the trauma and body horror is as strong as the blasphemous tea I brew, read at your own leisure I aint yo mama lol

Stay safe, give yourself grace, take your meds, get some sun, burrow in a blanket nest, drink water and eat a snack lovelies!

~Ren

Once Danny makes a decision he throws himself in head first, this will be no different. Danny has to start at the beginning. He must tell them everything to have a hope of them understanding how Danny ended up dropping through a portal to his brother’s side. For… their family to understand what true danger hunts him even now.

Dick sips his cup of coffee only to look at it betrayed when it’s bitter and cold. He has been in Bruce’s study watching the live feed of the recovery room for hours. He managed to drag himself to bed when Alfred had insisted but his dreams had been plagued with Danyal trembling on the floor, knife hilt deep in his small neck, the sight of them in the doorway had made him panic and then he was bleeding out, his breath gurgling in his throat as he died. It was an awful way to wake up and he couldn’t even go check on Danyal in person! Damian had cashed in a lot of the blackmail he’s kept on them to keep them away. While Dick was proud of his little brother’s emotional growth, seeing their youngest in person would go a long way for Dick to shake off his nightmare. He is a bat though so he will endure, especially because this involves his family, his brothers. 

As the sun started dipping below the horizon behind the curtains Tim walked into the study with two large cups filled to the top with coffee, one with a ton of sugar and cream the other plain black coffee, “Awe Timmy! You brought me coffee!” Dick snatches the plain one up with a smirk. 

Tim just grumbles at his grabby hands and relinquishes the cup. He shuffles over to the couch and pulls out his laptop to work on something- Dick isn’t sure where Tim had managed to safely carry the computer with two fresh coffees- and promptly ignores the others as they file in the next ten or so minutes. Judging by the dark circles under everyone’s eyes, sleep was hard to come by. 

Bruce is slumped into his chair watching the twins. No one breaks the silence. Dick eyes Jason from where his brother has propped himself against the wall out of the way Their father’s shoulders are tense in anger. So Talia is probably giving him the slip. He can’t help but feel resentment for the woman who keeps secrets that hurt his family. She knows that people don’t always stay dead. When Jason died, the only reason Dick had to face it, recognize that his little brother was dead was because they had his body as sure proof he had been murdered. Dick has seen many times how Bruce grieves and it’s never good. Adding in a twin? Bruce is holding himself together with sheer will power and meticulous training. Bruce might be almost impossible to read but he was the first boy to be adopted. He has more Bruce experience than anyone else in the family but Alfred. He can see the cracks. 

Turning back to the screen Dick lets out a little coo at the image. Damian is awake and is looking at Danyal like he’d disappear from under the blanket they share. The boy carefully extracts himself to use the restroom that’s tucked away in the corner. When he comes back onto the screen he is changed into his sweatpants and a t-shirt Dick recognizes as his own. He also spots a change of clothes for Danyal in his arms, which he sets on the side table next to the bed before Damian goes around refilling the water pitcher and glass to be ready for use, setting fresh towels out. 

Turning his attention to the younger boy, he can see how sickly the boy is when they’re side by side to compare. His pale skin shows off the dark veins underneath, his cheeks are caving into his face, all his baby fat eaten away, dark bruises under his eyes, and with how injured he was… it’s not telling a pretty story. Dick is confident that if Danyal hadn’t dropped out of the rafters in that warehouse they’d never know he could’ve been out there. He desperately needed help even if he hadn’t realized it yet. Bruce and Dick watch Damian crawl back into bed, Danny doesn’t wake but he does turn towards where Damian has frozen owl-eyed. An arm snags the bottom edge of Damian’s shirt and like a signal the rest of his limbs follow to entwine them together. It’s very cute. With a smirk Dick takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture. It’s unlikely to truly upset Damian since it’s probably the only picture that they have of the twins together right now, but however Damian responds when he knows the picture exists will be satisfying. 

“Are we gonna get on with it or just sit in silence with our thumbs up our asses?” Jason glares, looking significantly more tense. He stares down the room while crossing his arms across his chest. 

Dick sees Bruce’s shoulders square up like he’s bracing for a physical punch instead of the verbal jab. Batman has an almost obsessive need to know everything he can about a situation, it was one of his many lessons that they as his children made into muscle memory. Knowledge made carefully crafted contingency plans that kept their family safe on and off the streets. Something to hold, to have in reserve for when they need it. To be thrown so many unknowns in the shape of a brother was unsettling them all. 

“Jason.” Dick throws him a disappointed look from where he stands by Bruce, placing a hand on his shoulder to diffuse the argument that would shortly explode. “Danyal hasn’t been conscious, he hasn’t had the chance to explain anything yet, has he?” He raises his eyebrow at his brother. The family might not always reach an agreement on, well most things, but Dick knows his younger brother cares. He does. He won’t admit it but he’s here. Red Hood sticks to Crime Alley, looking after his people and- though he won’t claim them- his kids. One glance at Danyal’s wounded, still form was all it took to gain his loyalty. Red Hood liked to take his aggression out on those who disrespect his claim. Jason’s impulse to run off and hunt the monsters who could harm a child this way was poorly hidden. Dick understood the feeling so he didn’t push further.

Jason sneered at his words but didn’t bite back, just turned his impatient gaze towards Tim. “I’m sure Tim has been doing more digging than sleeping.”

Bruce inhales sharply drawing all of their attention. He’s looking at the monitor, hitting the unmute, Damian’s voice floods the room. “I simply meant you only have to tell me what has happened since we were separated… Once, here. I-We had thought you would prefer what privacy we can afford while we determined who had made the grave mistake of harming you. The family, while well intentioned, can be overwhelming. It is difficult gathering everyone and having them sit quietly for extended periods of time and our family is… large.” 

Damian’s description brought a small smile to Dick’s face. Danyal’s quiet reply dimmed the edges because he sounded so young. 

The whole group shifted and was laser focused on their new family member. Dick can’t think of any way to describe this whole situation as wrong as he took in what he could see.. It had nothing to do with Danny himself, or maybe it was more accurate to say whatever made his newly claimed baby brother look like that was what was firing off all his finely honed warning bells. A glance around at the others makes it clear they’re all, for once, on the same page.

If Bruce’s glare could kill the poor monitor would’ve been smoking at this point. Danyal was clearly at the end of his rope. Dick will admit as much as it irks him Damian was right to sequester the recovery room and keep Danyal in a calm area. They watch in horror as Danyal starts to speak. He was hesitant and nervous at first but slowly gained confidence when Damian didn’t react adversely. 

The rest of them didn’t have to restrain themselves. 

  “What the actual fuck?” That’s Tim’s angry voice, Dick shutters. He sounds like he’s already started on researching his shit list by the furious tapping that comes from the couch. Drs Fenton, the Ghost Investigation Ward, and Vlad Masters can’t possibly know what is coming for them. Dick isn’t sure whether to step in when Jason sinks down into the couch next to their younger brother and they immediately start whispering between themselves. 

He decides after a long look at the twins murmuring to each other that he would rather check on Bruce. “B?” 

The man that stands firm against Gotham’s most unsavory rogues, looks back at him lost. His eyes get drawn back to his sons on the screen, “He’s so small Dick. I-” It’s rare Bruce breaks in composure and Dick’s chest squeezes. His father looks haunted. 

“We’re here for him now, B.” He says gently. There are no words he could say that can erase what is already done. 

They listen to Tim and Jason in the background while watching Damian help Danyal get out of bed. Once on his feet Danyal waves his twin away. He’s weak and shaky but they breathe a bit easier when his legs don’t give out underneath his body weight. The short walk to the bathroom door seemed to have winded him. Danyal reaches for the wall and presses into it while he pauses. And pauses. 

Damian hasn’t rushed to his side so Dick tries not to panic. He probably needs a moment to gather himself. “Do you think we need to send Alfred down?” He asks Bruce. 

“What?” Tim and Jason both looked up at him in tandem. 

“Danyal! He was- well he is- fine. But look! He’s all hunched like he can’t breathe right? Why is Damian just watching?” Dick frets wringing his hands.

Attention diverted from their plans of destruction the two leave the couch and crowd around Bruce’s desk. 

“Oh fuck!” Tim curses, roughly rolling Bruce’s chair away from the keyboard. “I don’t know how they did it but I think the feed was paused, or spliced or looped. I’m trying to override it- Ah! I got it!” 

The feed clears and they all blink at the empty room. The bathroom door is open and Danyal’s things that were by the door are gone. 

Bruce jumps out of his chair. “What were they doing right before?” 

Tim pulls up the saved file and finds the moments right before the glitch. “They’re hugging?” A few lines of code and Tim has the background volume boosted. A hushed conversation in Arabic reaches their ears. 

“Okay Danyal, I understand and will help you,” Damian studies his brother for a moment, “how can I help you best in this moment Danyal, what is it you want.” 

They watch Danyal look around at the room, fear leaking in now that he’s not focused on the boy with him. “I can’t be here. I won’t heal.”

Bruce flinches like Danyal had hit him.

They embraced, and whatever else was said was too muffled to pick up.

They watch entranced, like a bruise you can’t help but press on, as the scene plays out and ends with Danyal leaning against the wall. 

“They can’t have gotten far, the demon brat wouldn’t risk hurting his precious twin, Dickie-Bird and I can fetch the chicks that flew the nest.” Jason sighs.

Bruce’s phone rings and they all look at it with reluctance. That’s Oracle’s ringtone so it’s important. Dick swipes the device and answers with a quick, “O, we’ve got a situation, please tell me this is important.”

“Yeah it is,” Barbra agrees, “if you guys were gonna patrol why wasn’t I looped in, huh?” 

Dick exchanges a confused look with the others. “Uh no, O, we agreed no patrol tonight, Black Bat, Signal, and Spoiler were our covers.”

“Then why is the Batmobile headed towards the edge of town?” 

They, with years of experience fighting side by side, spring in sync for the hidden entrance and pile into the elevator to the cave to change and to track down their brothers.

~~~~~~~

Gotham was unusually muggy this evening. Bruce could feel the sweat drip down his scalp and his suit was already damp. Breath blazed through his lungs yet brought him no warmth. He had to suppress his instinct to shiver. Fear was all he could feel. It was bone chillingly familiar. Nothing like Scarecrow’s toxin yet he was still sinking deeper into glacier littered water. As Batman, Bruce has taken many hits, faced the cruel underbelly of Gotham from the shadows and had said enough. Birthed from vengeance and relentlessly courting justice, he gets back up, keeps moving, doesn’t stay down even when he probably should. No one else had managed to stand against the city’s rogues. Every night he embraces their seething rage that blistered the streets and exploded buildings. Batman turns towards danger, not away. He is the shield that protects his city's people from the impact the best he can. It’s never enough. Batman has flung himself head first into a race that had long since started. 

In the rare hours he is alone surrounded by the soft glow of the Batcomputer and the quiet rustling of sleeping bats he can admit, those first years, he had enjoyed the vicious fights. Tangoing with death each night. He was entranced, he would dance until the curtain dropped. It was a destructive cycle he couldn’t escape. As he’s aged his compulsion to run off has cooled, and it was only after the first time Dick got more than just a few bruises did he realize the true cost. Even if he couldn’t stop them, perhaps he should’ve tried harder to work with his children to ensure their safety.  A family of vigilantes was a double edged blade. His curse to bear. The curse he spread. Every night his heart is split into pieces and goes with them as they stalk their prey from within the shadows. His children amaze terrify him in how they’ve all risen to fight back the miasma that threatens to swallow Gotham whole. 

He doesn’t know Danyal, has never learned what his favorite breakfast is or seen him off to school. They have never shared late night training sessions. His youngest has never fallen asleep sequestered away in his own world working on a case and for Bruce to find him and tuck him into bed like he has with all of his children at least once. No. He was never given a chance. Danyal’s existence was hidden from him. His death was a secret Damian was manipulated into thinking he had to carry the weight alone. And people believed Batman to be some sort of legendary detective. If Bruce was less controlled he might scoff at the thought. He missed things, big and small, all the time. Most often it was his children that were affected by his carelessness, his lack of understanding. 

He knows what it is to lose a son. In death and because of his own parental ineptitude. Bruce knows what it is for his world to spin out from under his feet and to let his rage blindly guide him. Bruce risks a glance at Jason, his walking, talking, breathing miracle. Why couldn’t he just say that to the person who needed to hear it. Jason had died, it was awful, truly awful. As an adult he has never felt so lost. Jason was only a child. A brilliant, bright, life snuffed out in the cruelest way only for some universal hiccup to thrust his soul back into body and for Talia to pick him up. They’ve never talked about the Y-incision that spans his entire torso. Jason hadn’t intended for him to see it. Bruce doesn’t know who is responsible. He doesn’t know if they dare breathe another breath on Earth. He’s afraid to ask. He’s afraid of what he’ll do if they aren’t already dead. No, the only thing he knew about it was what Jason had deliriously shared with him while sick with whooping cough. The cut may have happened but that was as far as they got. His ribs remained intact, his organs undisturbed. Bruce has to trust Jason told him the truth. Bruce hadn’t had the strength to imagine alternatives.

He has no choice now. Whatever Danyal’s journey has been, wherever he’s been. Bruce despairs that his youngest’s life journey has been too similar to Jason’s. Danny had listed off to Damian the multitude of injuries he had and Bruce just knew. Two of his sons have been dehumanized, valued as objects for other’s use, to state their curiosity. His youngest didn’t just get cut into, as despicable as that already was, no, he was awake, aware, alive as some sick fuck rooted around behind his ribs. (Half-alive. His gut rolls at the implications yet it brings none of his usual suspicions to draw his attention to what his son was hiding. Only he wasn’t hiding, not from the Wayne family. No, he had shared everything with very little prompting from Damian. Danyal was running from them) Bruce could only stare at the screen in his office in horror. How fast did his regenerative ability work to regrow his harvested organs? Did he have to break wrongly healed bones and had to hold them in place until they healed enough for him to escape or did his bones snap forcefully into place on their own-    

It’s a race against time now. Danyal is in no condition to be on the run. It would crush him to send him away but Bruce would. He can find a secure place away from him for his son if that’s what it took to make him feel safe enough to rest. Recovery needs to be his number one priority, he had been slowly relaxing with Damian yet as soon as he wasn’t disoriented he fled. What does that say about how he thinks they’ll treat him? What does it say about Bruce that Damain felt he could better protect his twin alone?

Bruce forces himself to reach for his comms and connects to the main comm line they use for patrols. “Everyone, change of plans, keep your eyes open for both boys. They fled from the cave in the Batmobile, hail the line immediately if they’re sighted, I don’t expect Robin to linger once it stops.” Bruce internally curses at himself that he didn’t think to have some sort of code for his youngest. He’s known for creating contingency plans for his contingency plans, yet he is not prepared for this. He could’ve never prepared himself for the knowledge he had not one blood son but two, twins. He couldn’t be too revealing incase someone was listening. “We’re in pursuit of the Batmobile now. Remember the boys are both League trained, Robin likely will have some tricks he’ll play.. The boy’s full capabilities are still unknown and he is heavily injured, proceed with caution, the boy is likely running on instinct, resistance is expected. We want to avoid making them feel cornered.” His tone is tight with worry, He doesn’t blame Danyal for being suspicious. He may be their father, but as far as he knows it wouldn’t be safe. Well, Bruce can’t blame either of them, they’re children, his children. He will blame their mother though. “We want them to get them home safe with no further injuries.” 

Some very distant part of him is proud of Damian for unequivocally having his brother’s back, if only they could bond over things that didn’t shave years off his life. Bruce has never been more stressed. Some day soon he’ll just have to embrace the grey that was sprouting in his black hair and give Alfred relief from helping him hide them.

“Copy that B-man! Our eyes are peeled!” Spoiler responds “I’m currently in Burnley, Orphan’s got Somerset covered and Signal is in Old Gotham! If they’re out here we’ll find them.”

“From what Oracle sent, I think I should be able to pick something up with my powers, I’ll keep trying while we move, B.” Signal pipes in.

“Thank you Signal.” Bruce is flooded with relief. He really is lucky to have them, there’s no one else he’d rather have at his back. They’ve all grown into their own. He tries not to sigh. 

Discovering the twins missing had sent them scrambling, even Jason had looked worried and tucked away his instinct to question him or to argue, his second son had simply followed them down to the cave. At this rate he may get an ulcer. He had felt panic steal his critical thinking, as he led his boys south towards where the Batmoblie was speeding away faster than they could grapple. He had to find them. Gotham isn’t safe at night and Danyal’s movements will be restricted if he deems it important not to rip his stitches. 

Moving through the air usually calmed him but tonight grappling wasn’t moving him around fast enough. Taking the Batmobile was smart of his sons, he begrudgingly had to admit, not only was it faster, the boys would be hidden inside. If Robin had driven his bike he’d have superior maneuverability even though Batman could’ve followed them faster, but if the boys had impacted something during a high speed chase to flee? They’d both be thrown. Danyal is already severely injured anything additional.. Bruce couldn’t make himself focus on that. 

His Trouble Twins probably planned it this way to slow them down. To throw them off their tracks. It was working, the boys had a 10 minute lead on their group. They’d left as soon as they had suited up but they still were too far out of reach. Away from the protective shadow of his cape. He couldn’t protect them now that they left the safety of the manor. Jason was cursing underneath him on the street racing past buildings on his bike, he was slightly ahead of Batman and Nightwing’s position in the air, on the bike next to him Tim was working with Barbara to try and get eyes on the boys. Quiet suggestions on what to look for. Shadows that move unnaturally, flashes of color there and gone, how they needed an algorithm up to analyze all of the feeds simultaneously. With the many cameras in Gotham-more than half Bruce had bought for the city to install- they wouldn’t be so hard to find. They shouldn't be so difficult to find, but Damian was particularly slippery when he put in the effort. Bruce glanced at his eldest besides him. 

Dick was one long string pulled too tight. He, of course, was still chatting happily with Barbara but his smile was strained at the edges, his movements too careful and precise. He hasn’t joked once. The possibility the man would snap increases the longer the twins are missing. It’s rare to see Dick outwardly expressing something other than the pure sunshine and patience. By the time Jason had come around he had curbed most of his bloodlust, it was a faint memory by the time Tim weaseled his way into their lives. It reminds Bruce too much of Brucie. The persona that he developed to hide from the vultures that would’ve taken everything from him as a child when tragedy struck. Before Bruce had decided to be active in Gotham’s social scene he knew it was better they underestimate poor orphaned Bruce Wayne. Brucie hid Batman, a shield to protect his family from those who would expose their secrets. He was necessary, even if Bruce felt suffocated most of the time. Was Dick hiding from him? 

He has to suppress a shutter. All his children to some degree, whether on or off the streets, have adapted to Batman’s mannerisms and habits. It was essential to survive facing the threats they do. Dick though fell more into Bruce’s habits. His eldest son, who with a smile looked after his siblings while Bruce was distracted by some crisis or another.They both often blamed themselves for things they couldn’t stop or foresee. That heavy invisible weight that sits on their shoulders because they claimed it. Bruce knows that he’s failed his children, Dick.. Dick in particular has had to step up on his behalf to smooth things over between family members. Forced to become another parent to the kids he brought home. It was never Dick’s responsibility and it’s taken time and a lot of effort but Bruce is making steps forward, trying to stop repeating the same mistakes. It was only Alfred’s guidance and help raising the boy that he excelled instead of crumbling under Bruce’s incompetence. Bruce was trying though. Even if it was hard to talk about casually, he was in therapy, it was.. Helping. He’s not putting so much of himself onto his children these days. He’s been processing his thoughts and feelings instead of bottling them inside and letting his anger rule him. 

Words though, they still escaped him on the best days. Today was shaping up into an absolutely horrible one. Bruce wanted to say something to reassure his sons that things would be okay. None sounded right. He let them choke him. If they could just find Danyal. As much as it would pain Bruce, his youngest doesn’t have to stay with them-with him. Bruce could never trap him here. He… He just wants Danyal to recover. Recover and be safe, whatever that looks like. The boy looked so small next to Damian. They’re twins and Danyal was so small on that bed next to his brother, all skin and bones, his skin stretched over his face making him look years older and the blood, oh God, it took a second but once they realized all that green was coming from inside of him, Bruce was sure they were going to be planning another funeral. The Y-shaped wound was gruesome and he had stared in shock. Another one of his children getting cut open, violated. Vivisected. He was going to mourn another child. He was going to puke. He was going to destroy those who dared to touch Danyal. A heady mix of vengeance and justice for a boy he’d never properly meet. Somehow though, the boy had stabilized. His boy, another one. He’s too old for surprise kids. Only to be spirited away by Damian behind layers and layers of traps that had made the family hesitate and then they were gone, on the run with Alfred’s careful stitches being the only thing holding Danyal together.   

What were they thinking? Why wasn’t I? Why didn’t I fight Damian harder when he locked them out of the recovery room? No…Danyal was already compromised. Damian saw this and ran from his family because he didn’t trust them to protect Danyal, didn’t trust them not to set him off. Maybe they would’ve made it worse, maybe his son was right even if Bruce didn’t want to admit it. Damian was saving them from an error. The boy who he had only met unconscious or through a screen, would’ve lashed out at himself again and they would’ve caused his-

“B? The Batmobile’s tracker has stopped moving on the edge of Burnside near the Craig Bridge. I can’t get a clear view.” Oracle reports 

“Hn.” He adjusts his trajectory and his sons follow suit, adjusting their positions to be out behind him in a V-shaped formation. If someone were to see them at this hour they’d see the vigilantes and would draw parallels between them and their namesakes, in normal circumstances it might bring a ghost of a smile across his face, they were a mixed bag flock. His flock. His family. He was thankful to have them at his back tonight. They’d find the boys, they had to. They still had nothing on the threat that was nipping at Danyal’s heels. If they were caught…

“Why would the Demon Brats go there?” Jason grumbles. They’re three blocks away now so Bruce has to fight his nausea down. They might have to subdue the boys if they won’t listen to reason. The idea of injuring Danyal further or obliterating any chance to build a relationship because he sees them as a threat rather than family. He has to stay firm though. He might have not been allowed in the room but between Alfred’s worried fretting and the security feed Bruce is very aware how Danyal shouldn’t be moving let alone going on the run with Damian. If Danyal would just let him explain he had options maybe he’d come back on his own.

“Hood, Red Robin, hang back and spread out. Start searching. I’d like to have our newest addition to Agent A within the hour. Nightwing with me.”

His grapple connects to the next roof and he leans into the arc so his path can wrap around the corner. Just ahead the Batmobile is stopped. The doors were open, no signs of the boys or of a struggle. Bruce knows they won’t find anything inside the Batmobile, Damian is efficient and clean in his work, but they look anyway. Bruce shares a look with his oldest and sighs. 

“Nothing in the Batmobile, Hood, Red Robin, report.” He shoots his grapple at the closest roof to get a better view of the surrounding area, Nightwing follows closely behind him. 

“Nothing that I can see.” Hood grunts.

“Nothing here either, no alerts from the cameras.” Red Robin sounds frustrated, “You don’t think they bailed in a dead zone, do you? Robin wouldn’t have him jump from a speeding vehicle, right?” 

“Hn.” Bruce refuses to acknowledge that thought. Even if it was a likely option, if they felt it necessary to throw them off to that degree. Dick is quiet next to him. He wants to say the right thing to ease his worries. Bruce has never been good at finding the right words, to reassure without false promises but will always try, “We’ll figure out what happened, Chum.”

Dick looks at him for a long moment. Bruce lets him and tries not to shutter himself away. Dick needs Bruce more than Batman right now. “Yeah,” It comes out grim, “before or after my youngest brother reopens something?” 

Bruce squeezes his son’s shoulder before turning away and shoots his grapple at the next roof. Right before he jumps he says, “We can only hope the boys are being careful and try our best to find them.”

[penny00dreadful]

Black widow vampire Steve??? 👀

Oooooh, this is gonna be a fun one and it's all @hbyrde36's fault 😅

There was a brain worm that started in the replies of a post somewhere here and it latched on and would not let go.

The line I thought of that started everything off was "Steve had fallen in love many times before, even if it was just for one night."

So currently I am envisioning a bitter and broken Steve who had lost human Eddie ~300-400 years ago and hasn't been the same since.

He has had Robin with him only for about ~40 years so while he's in the process of healing, he's still got a long way to go.

I'm thinking the Victorian era maybe but I'm not sure yet.

I'm thinking he goes out and hunts terrible people, seduces them, kills them after he's had his fun.

I'm thinking at one point he keeps seeing familiar brown curls scross the street, through a window, in the crowd, but he's always too late to get a good look.

But it couldn't be anyway, right? Eddie's been dead for over 300 years.

👀👀👀

Right?

Ask me about my WIPs!

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

I've finally worked up the courage to post the opening of one of the Mysterious Lotus Casebook fics I'm writing (Li Lianhua/Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing), specifically, from my post-canon fic where LLH's shiniang tried to sacrifice herself to cure him.

Tw/cw: suicide attempt, mention of off-page non-consensual medical procedure, internalized ableism

***

Li Lianhua crashed to his hands and knees on the ground as the last trickle of his borrowed qi abandoned him, the densely-packed sand doing nothing to cushion the blow. The impact rattled through his spine and ribs, shaking loose a bout of coughing that forced him to swallow down the burning flare of copper trying to escape from his mouth. He couldn’t cough up blood now, not here, too many steps away from the water’s reach. It would leave evidence of his route, a trail that his shiniang would undoubtedly follow once she had broken free from the immobilization. He couldn’t let her find him until the job was done. 

He pushed himself to standing, his arms and legs shaking hard enough to nearly drop him back to his knees, and he blinked to will the dancing black spots from his eyes. The waves awaited him, and he refused to crawl to meet them. He took a staggering step toward the sound of crashing water ahead of him, far fainter now than it had any right to be, and squinted against the sunlight to get his bearings. 

A large gray lump on his left snagged his attention, disrupting the blur of gold and blue that filled up the rest of his view. Why did that look familiar? He took an unsteady step closer, pressing his palm against his chest to convince his lungs to hold back a cough one more time, and the gray lump resolved into a rock. 

A rock that had once served as a pillow that was soft only in comparison to how hard the rest of the day had been.

Of course. He’d landed at Donghai beach. He swallowed back tears with a bitter laugh. Never let it be said that the universe didn’t have a sense of humor.  

He’d returned after all: three months late for the duel and over a decade late for bringing his decrepit body back to the waves that had so decisively spat him out. But surely this time, with all the mysteries solved and no business left unfinished, the sea would accept the offering of his broken frame. Li Xiangyi was long dead and it was past time for Li Lianhua to follow his example. He was already a ghost in every way that mattered. And this was the only way to guarantee his shiniang would live.

She would be furious, of course, but wasn’t furious better than dead? How could it be unfilial to make sure she lived on? Too many people had died for him; he refused to let her join those ranks. Dying to save her was already a far better death than he deserved. 

As for the others, Xiaobao would have his teachings and would be too busy climbing the heights of the jianghu to miss the weak physician he once protected. 

And a-Fei—

—well, how could he still fixate on defeating a ghost with Xiaobao shining more brightly than Li Xiangyi ever had?

No, this end was far better for everyone, and best of all, no one would sacrifice their life or be forced to play caretaker to an empty husk of a man.

A familiar chill seared through his veins and meridians, despite the warmth of the fur of his outer layer, stealing away his breath and the amorphous blue blur before him. He took another stumbling step toward where it had been, his heart stuttering painfully in his chest. 

Not much longer now. It seemed his frenzied dash here and self-shattered heart meridian were more efficient for what he had in mind than the weight his waterlogged fur coat would have offered.

Perhaps he didn’t need the coat for this at all. His body would certainly float further without it. And not even his shiniang could save him now, so what harm could it do to leave some evidence behind? Xiaobao might not believe the beggar’s words, but surely this fur cloak at the water’s edge would put to rest any lingering futile hopes. And then Xiaobao would tell a-Fei.

And if it brought them peace, if it let them say goodbye, then how could he not leave it behind?

It was decided, then. 

He lifted his hands to the coat’s laces, then paused. Were those voices? For a moment, he could have sworn he heard—

—Ah, no, the hallucinations must have started again. 

He smiled. At least he had heard a-Fei and Xiabao one last time, if only in his mind.

He untied his laces with fumbling, stiff fingers, and let the coat fall behind him. 

His heart and lungs clenched with another spasm, and a wave of dizziness broke over him, threatening to drop him to his knees once more. 

He fought against it, muscles shaking as they never had during battles. He couldn’t surrender now; not until he reached the water. He could manage three more steps. He had to.

He tried to lift his foot again.

The world swam before him, and darkness dragged him under.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Secret Smile: Homecoming (Chapter Ten)

Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye on you. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 2.8k Chapter Warnings - 18+ blog, passing mention of differences in familial status, slight secret relationship, discussions of dismissal/quitting jobs/workplaces and injustice, mentions of sex. Reader has a backstory and family but no physical descriptions. Notes - This has been a long time coming and for anyone still out there reading this, thank you and I hope it’s worth the wait. The past few months have been particularly tough IRL which has made writing Blue's work stresses pretty triggering and difficult and then made me weirdly superstitiuous about even opening the wip file. That said, the muse finally hit, I decided to fight my anxiety about it and here we are.

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You didn’t have a plan. Not really. Rather your plan was merely the rough semblance of an idea, a delicate decision tree that was completely reliant on people caring and wanting to do the right thing.  That, you realise now, may have been a mistake.

Frankly, Plan A had failed so long ago, you are probably somewhere around O or P in the alphabet now.

Whatever you had thought you would do though, it didn’t work. The best result you’ve negotiated, and one that was hard fought, is to have officially resigned, rather than be dismissed. Your time with that office and career aspirations are dead though.  

Sometimes that’s what happens. You live in a world where perhaps certain victories are pyrrhic, your heroes don’t always prevail - or, if they do, there’s a cost. It’s one you’d pay again. It was the right thing to do.

Only a sense of integrity doesn’t pay the bills or prevent awkward conversations with your family. You’re going to have move in with your parents again because Rafa won’t have room at his house. You need to think of a way to frame this to them all.

There’s been a cold spell in DC. You can feel it still ghosting the air as you take a sip of coffee, clutching the to-go cup tightly  between your hands. It’s a change to the humidity of Colombia, the familiar heat of Texas. You remember what it felt like you first moved here years ago and how novel the snow had seemed, how romantic thick jumpers and hot chocolate by a fireplace had felt.

You look over at the building ahead of you.

Javi won’t be long.

This is the last time you’ll be in front of this building, you’ve left it for the last time and that chapter of your life is truly over. You can barely remember who you were when you first stepped into those doors anyway.

You notice Javi leaving. You watch him loosen his tie as he leaves the building, making his way towards you.

“Hi,” you say gently. “All wrapped up?” You try and read any emotions on his face; whether his meetings went as smoothly as you hoped.

“All wrapped up,” Javi says, before kissing you deeply.

“Nice try to distract me,” you say, “but you didn’t tell me how it went.”

Javi groans into your neck. “Well, Spencer offered to make my resignation go away and for me to go to Mexico.”

“Mexico?” you ask, alarmed. Javi told you he couldn’t do this anymore, that he’d reached the end of his career with the DEA. Selfishly you have only just started this with him, you don’t want to  lose it yet, you don’t want a long-distance relationship just now.

“Yeah.” There’s a bitter note in his voice that signals there’s more to this, more to what was said than a simple job offer.

“What did you say?” Is it over already? Is it over before you and him even had a chance to really know what the two of you could be? Will Javi go to Mexico while you return to Laredo without a job, without him?

Practically, you will understand if he says yes. You might not agree - you don’t agree, but you won’t say that unless he expressly asks.

You steel yourself for his next words. This was just a fling, stress relief, a stress response even. It doesn’t mean anything to him. He hopes you can still be friends.

You will smile, you will agree. You will lie. 

Javi looks over at you quizzically, shifting his hand so he can entwine his fingers with yours. “I’m officially no longer a DEA employee. My - my time there is over.” 

Relief courses through you. “Oh. Are you alright?”

“Are you?” Javi asks.

You pause, leaning into Javi and his warm body. In all honesty, you’re not sure. It isn’t just the job, or loss thereof, and the way your time in Colombia bought up so many demons from before. It’s not that you’ve been directly involved, or even witnessed, the most terrifying aspects of Javi’s work or time in Colombia. It’s more that you’ve lost something.

You’ve lost that faith, that certainty in a system of justice, in checks and balances. You don’t believe like you used to. There’s this cynical edge to your thoughts, this sense of sadness and futility that justice isn’t what you thought it was.

You’re tired, burnt out and you have no clue what to do next.

But then there’s Javi.

 “I will be,” you say, pulling away from him before immediately reaching for Javi’s hand so the two of you can walk away from this building for the last time.

Together.

You thought you would show Javi the city you used to live in. There were coffeeshops, restaurants, walks you wanted to share with him. Moments to make together in this strange in-between time before you return to Laredo.

You’ve barely left your hotel room though. Restaurants were abandoned in lieu of room service fries, a club sandwich and salad. Strolls across tourist attractions have been discarded in favour of another kiss, another touch, another moment with Javi.

You tell yourself it’s because who knows when you’ll have time like this again. You tell yourself your feelings and this situation are completely under control.

Either way, the two of you are insatiable. It could be the relief of there being a firm line between Colombia and now, it could be making up for lost time.

Javi is the best thing the year has bought you so far. He makes it all worthwhile. You’re sure of that, even if the thought scares you.

You lean back against the pillow, as you try and catch your breath.

“How long do we have?” you ask.

“Until our flight?” Javi asks, kissing down your neck to your collarbone. “We need to check out in a couple of hours and then we’ve got a changeover in Dallas, but we should land before its dark.”

“Okay, I should go pee, clean up a bit,” you say, sitting up. “Water?”

“Water,” Javi confirms, placing a hand over his head as he collects himself. You like looking at him like this; the way the hotel room light hits his skin, still glistening with sweat, the look in his eyes, the way his hair is slightly undone and curls at the ends.

You get out of the bed, tugging a hotel robe around you as you walk to the bathroom. When you return, you pour two glasses of water and hand one to Javi as you sit back on the bed.

“So,” you say, before taking a sip of your water.

“So,” Javi repeats slowly, looking you over with care and concern. “Have you -” he falters.

You look at him curiously. “What, Javi?”

“Are you - are you coming back here? Or Austin? Or - are you sticking around?”

It never occurred to you. For all your anxieties about Javi leaving you for another job, you never thought he’d have the same worry about you.

“Well, the good thing is that even a town like Laredo probably needs a lawyer or two.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You nod and watch the way his face softens. His smiles are rare, but they’re so worth it. They light up his whole face, make an already attractive man even more attractive.

“I think I need a change though and maybe I can at least figure that out back in Laredo.”

“That’s good. Are you ready for this?”

You make a face. You’re starting to think you would rather spend your time grappling with legal systems and international diplomacy than this. “To move back in with my parents with no job? Oh Javi, absolutely not.”

An unwelcome thought suddenly hits you. What do you tell your families about you and Javi? It’s still so new and you’re still figuring out what any of it means. Part of you is worried that without the connection of Colombia, of work, maybe he won’t want you for much longer. Maybe it’s not enough to make something real.

“Do we tell people back home about us yet?” you ask. “I mean, do you want to? Or do we .. should we just keep this for us for a bit? Figure everything out?”

“What do you want to do, Blue?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. There’s been so much change, so much anxiety. Javi’s been this amazing bubble and you know you feel something strongly for him. You know it feels like it could be something. You’re used to decision trees as a lawyer; you feel like you know where this is heading, you like that direction to.

You like who you are with Javi. So why are you scared to say that right now?

You stare down at your glass of water, wishing you could craft the right legal argument, the right way forward.

“We’ve got time, Blue,” he says calmly, “That’s something the two of us definitely are going to have right now in Laredo.”

“Well, I will. Didn’t you say you were going to help your Pops. Be a rancher?” You raise an eyebrow at the thought of that. It’s an appealing image though, you can’t lie. Javi all sweaty and working hard, you remember that day in Curacao and how he looked in the pink shirt after running around the town.

“We can figure this out on our own time,” he says, “I want to. I don’t want this to end right now though.”

“Neither do I.”

“So we’re agreed on that?”

You nod.

Javi leans over you, taking the glass from your hands and moving you so he’s on top of you. “Well, we’ve still got some time before we need to check out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Laredo, TX

It feels like déjà vu. Another party in Laredo, another homecoming where it sounds like a success but feels like a failure. Another day of standing around the people Javi grew up with and feeling like a stranger.

He’s changed. Colombia’s changed him again and again and again.  He thinks it’s something he has to wear; a solid, distinguishing marker of who Javi once was and who he has become. Before and After Colombia.

Laredo hasn’t changed much in the last year. His father’s home is almost exactly the same. It’s reassuring somehow; this stalwart unchanging community. His dad is driving the same truck, his room is the same as he left it.  Everything even smells the same.

Time stops then starts again.

The prodigal son has returned once more. Javi supposes at least he’s here sooner than last time, at least his Pops can see he’s trying.

He is trying. He’s been trying for so long.

He’s home and he’s not sure what difference he’s made at all, a point only made more obvious when Mike Spencer confirmed that his fear the cartels Javier and his team had helped bring down were nothing in the grand scheme of things.

He’s failed. He couldn’t put it right. It’s why he went back after all - though if he’s honest he didn’t know how to do anything else.

He doesn’t know how to do anything else.

It’s not for him now though- he’s done. Javi’s given it all. It feels like he’s been sucked dry by the DEA over the past decade. He has nothing left to give them.

It’s not all terrible though - he looks over at you. You are the impossible bright side in all of his mess.

Officially this party is a joint welcome home and

He takes a sip of his beer as he watches you in the corner of his eye. You’re dancing in the garden with your niece, smiling widely and laughing.

You meet his eyes and he notices the smile; the way your eyes widen for just a second, the smile he’s never seen before. Not before you and him became something else anyway.

You take his breath away.

He wants to walk over to you straight away, to take you in his arms and just be reminded that you’re real, you’re here. He wants to kiss you and lead you straight to your bedroom, to taste you, have you, to know you again and again.

He knows so much more about you now; the way your body feels, the way you like to be kissed, touched, fucked. He knows how you sound when you wake up in the morning, the way you take your coffee each day. He knows you. In the past weeks, he’s taken to wanted to commit every detail of your body to his memory, just in case.

He can’t approach you though. Not now. Not here. Not yet.

Rafa pulls up the chair next to Javi. “It’s good to have you back, Javi.”

“Good to be back,” Javi replies automatically.

“Are you sticking around for a while?”

“I think so. Pops could do with some help on the ranch.”

Rafa raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t think - I mean, that’s great, Javi. So, you’re done with the DEA?”

“Yeah, it was time to make a change.”

“Well, I guess once you’ve taken down two cartels, it’s hard to know where to go next,” he replies wryly. Javi’s always liked that about Rafa; he’s quick thinking and smart. He knows how to put people at ease too. Javi supposes that’s an important part of being a doctor, especially being the family doctor in a town like this.

He’s sleeping with Rafael’s sister. While the two of you were in Colombia, or DC, he could forget that so easily. You were just Blue to him. You are just Blue to him.

Only you’re also his friend’s sister and in a small community like this, he’s not sure how this will be received. He’s not sure how Rafa will really feel about the two of you. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Rafa quite as much as he did before he went to Colombia.

It's not just that. Standing there in your parents' home, he's struck by the differences between your families. It's not featured in his friendship with Rafa, but there's no denying your family is a different type of affluent to his own. The ranch does well, his Pops runs it really well, but your family is doctors and lawyers and businessmen. He's not sure where he stands in contrast.

It makes sense now, why you asked that question of him in DC. Why you’d wondered aloud about whether they should tell people straight away. At first, he’d thought you were having second thoughts.

He gets it now.

“Was my sister okay out there?” Rafa asks.

“We didn’t spend much time together. Different departments.” A story you’ve agreed, but he hates this already. He wants Rafa to know what you’re like, how good at your job you are.

“Oh. Did you try and keep an eye on her?”

“When I saw her? Yes. But Rafa, she was more than capable of looking after herself from what I saw.”

“I know. I’m just glad she’s home. Glad you both are. Everyone was proud, but - I know my parents worried about her, know your pops worried about you.”

Before Javi can add anything else, you walk over with Sofia who is keen to head inside and regale her abuela with exactly what she’s been up to.

“I spent most of my time on the other side of the embassy at Medellin,” you say smoothly, looking around before leaning against the porch post. “Lots of paperwork and calls.” Javi hates how you play down your impact, of what you did and how you really helped.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhhmm,” you say easily, your eyes meeting Javi for just a second. There’s a slight smile in your expression, almost imperceptible but Javi sees it.

“Well, I’m glad the two of you are back safe.”

“Me too.”

“Would have been nice if you’d worked together though. I mean what were the chances? Two people from Laredo in the same place.” Kismet, that’s what you called it one day, right? That’s what Javi sees it as now.

Rafa looks over to the inside of your parents’ home. “I should go check on Sofia, see you in a bit, Javi. It’s good to have you home.”

It’s just the two of you on the porch now.

“So …” you begin with a soft smile. “Enjoying the party?”

Javi shakes his head. “It’s kind, but -”

“I know.” He knows you do too.

He stands up and moves to look out from the porch, standing next to you. His hand is so close to yours and he notices how you subtly move so your hands are touching.

Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Tag List

Secret Smile tag-list @joelsgreys @sullyosully @catsickyellow @spishsstuff @casa-boiardi @living-for-jesus-and-telenovelas @pastelnap @babeincolor @iamskyereads @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs.

[iprefertheterminsane]

Ok i'm a lil bit familiar w/ some of your WIPS here but the Sandman Fishbowl WIP is making me 👀👀 Can I ask about that, pls? 💗

ITS LITERALLY ONE OF THE FIRST SANDMAN FICS I EVER WROTE i DID share with you 😭😭😭 this was back whem Fishbowl Fics were still all the rage but i left it behind like 3 chapters in and forgot about it and now nobody is doing fishbowl fics anymore 😔😔😔😔. Basically Hob saves Dream from the Fishbowl and lives with Hob for a little after bc Hob manages to persuade they look for the tools human style. Its very similar to softest punk's Shelter except obviously softest punk actually published it and did it a whole lot better than I ever could. Anyway heres a snippet;

(...)

Through the ringing of his ears, something speaks. 

It resonates through the very bricks of the manor, and it trembles from it. It is from deep within the soul, of the mind, velvet seduction of a nightmare. 

(It is a voice Hob knows well.)

"Roderick Burgess."

It echoes from everywhere, quiet and earth-shaking, from nowhere at all. Hob shakes his head, rapid, like a dog shaking rain off his coat. 

"Do you know what you have done?"

I'm bleeding, Hob registers dimly, hands aching from torn open knuckles and peppered bits of glass, dusting his cheeks, his palms, the cold slick of the wall the blast had pushed him against. He uses it as leverage, hauling himself upwards. 

"For your monstrous greed, and petty arrogance, lives have been lost, and innocents have suffered."

The worst of the shrapnel had exploded forwards, in the direction of the gate, well away from Hob's angle of safety. The heavy mist had spread, spread, spread, and the manor is dead silent. 

Burgess Junior is slumped against the wall, motionless save-Hob notices with surprise-the shaky movements of his chest. 

Hob finds them. 

"No," cries Roderick Burgess, perched on his knees as Johanna Constantine had been in their pub, in 1789. His eyes are fogged white, unnatural, and he twitches violently from visions he cannot escape. "No, no, no, Randall, please-my son, my boy-," 

"You shall live as you had wished, Roderick Burgess." 

The Stranger says, standing with an outstretched hand, stance straight and sure, and his face doused in shadows. Inhuman. The order is made in finality. His lips move, but only barely. 

"And you shall beg for death."

With the sullen proclamation, the Stranger lowers his hand, and with it, it seems, the last of his strength. 

Hob watches as he collapses within himself, like an imposing tower finally reduced to rubble to reveal its cracked foundations at last. He moves without thinking, and catches his Stranger before he hits the ground, gathering him into his lap. The air is no longer so deathly cold as it had been before, but his Stranger shivers still. His greatcoat had been taken from him, but Hob takes off his own shirt to cover him despite his protests, and urges him to stand. 

"We need to get out of here," Hob tells him. "It's dawn soon, and the cops might be here any moment." 

"My tools," the Stranger insists. "They were taken from me." 

Hob is trying to figure out a gentle way to press that they are surrounded by dead bodies, a writhing old man and a quiet party, before he hears it again; familiar bird trills. 

The Stranger perks, head whipping to turn towards the entrance.

"Jessamy."

Before Hob could feel bitter from the reverential tone used for an unfamiliar woman's name, the large white-breasted raven finds them, and Hob almost startles. In his lap, his Stranger places a hand to his chest, and Hob calms despite himself. 

The raven flutters nervously, but decides, finally, to land on the floor by Hob's knee. She titters with worry, bumping against his Stranger's outstretched palm, and he practically slumps further from relief. 

"Jessamy," Hob mutters. "She's yours?" 

The Stranger doesn't answer, turning his head to bury his face in his chest instead, body shaking still, from exhaustion, anger, or the cold, perhaps even all three at once. He doesn't try to get him to stand again. His body aches, but he feels his miracle working already, how his skin begins to knit and spit glass from his flesh, leaving behind silvery scars or nothing at all. He counts to three, and with a single breath, lifts the entity in his arms, cradled in his arms in a bridal carry. 

His Stranger had always been thin, but he is light, lighter than Hob knows he should be. He tries not to panic about it. 

"I'm taking him home." He tells the bird. "Find the tools he's talking about, and follow us."

The bird flaps her wings twice, and caws.

"I'll keep him safe," Hob swears, with inadvisable conviction. "I promise." 

This, finally, mollifies her, and Hob follows her up the stairs. 

The party is silent, and bodies are slumped on floors, against tables and walls. It takes him a second glance to realize they weren't dead, as he had assumed. He hears snoring, even, and quickened breaths. 

"They're sleeping?" Hob asks, walking quickly but treading carefully over their bodies. 

The Stranger nods, eyes closed. 

"For how long?" 

Not dead, Hob surmised. But they might as well be.

"Forever." 

[britcision]

I gave you Danny last week, and continuing my cruel streak of not giving you the Bruce-And-Constantine that makes up most of the meat of this chapter… 😈 have some Jason!

We’re close to the end my dears so with any luck this is the last WIP Wednesday we’ll spend on chapter 11, and get that posted soon! I’m just slowing down a little, because Jason’s… well, he’s a little heavy in this one

Needs some cheering up. As always, the rest of the fic is in the tag and on AO3 under Danny Fenton: Dead and Loving It

——————

Fuck the no killing rule, Jason was gonna murder Harley Quinn. And by that, yeah, he probably actually meant “seek vengeance in some small but annoying way”, but still.

He didn’t actually have a crush on Danny. It was a bit they were putting on to fuck with his nosey brothers, and it was probably a good sign that they’d apparently fooled Harley too.

But Harley was a hopeless romantic and prone to see romance where none existed, so maybe it wasn’t that good.

More importantly, Danny didn’t fucking know he was Red Hood yet. He’d have to text Harley tonight and drill that in, since she’d definitely picked up that Danny was in on the secret.

And since apparently they were all gonna be hanging out tomorrow.

He kinda wished he hadn’t brought it up. That Harley hadn’t asked.

He’d monopolised so much of Danny’s time already over the break, three full days and they still had to make that run back to Frostbite.

Danny must have had some other plans. Something he actually wanted to do with his time instead of just following Jason around.

The gala had been fun though. And so had today, it just… Jason couldn’t help feeling he was being too needy. Too clingy, with a guy he’d known for all of a week if you were generous.

Being around Danny made him feel like himself for the first time in fucking years, and he knew what he’d have given up for that.

He didn’t want to be too much. Too pushy. Didn’t want Danny to get sick of hanging out with him so soon, and leave him right back where he’d been; bitter, angry, and alone.

At least Danny didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Harley’s parting shot. There was definitely something on his mind, but they hadn’t actually unlinked arms.

Jason could feel his aura.

Concern-worry-worry.

Shit, they hadn’t fucking unlinked arms. Should they? Should Jason have? For fucks sake he was literally clinging to the guy, this was fucking ridiculous, he should just.

But Danny hadn’t pulled away.

It’d be weird to pull away now.

Jason managed to keep himself distracted in that little spiral all the way to the garage he’d parked his bike in. Danny waited until they left the manor’s grounds to speak again though, arms tightening around Jason’s chest.

“Pull over a sec?” He called above the wind, and Jason very firmly did not let that pitch him further. He pulled over, still firmly in the heights and far from any living souls.

Unless theirs counted. Probably not.

He dropped the kickstand and pulled off his helmet, hoping Danny just wanted to talk. Maybe ask him to make his excuses to Harley.

Ask Jason to drop him at the university and not follow him home. That’d make sense. He didn’t need a wayward puppy.

He didn’t actually get off the bike. Didn’t want to give up Danny’s arms wrapped around him, even if it was just for expedience.

And maybe realised that wasn’t a great idea when Danny rested his cheek on Jason’s back and a warm wave of relax-safe-reassurance threatened to swallow him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason damn near bolted. Barely heard the next words, which…

Well.

He knew Danny tended to overlook things. But it turned out he could be pretty damn perceptive too.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know. Cass. I can feel her anywhere in the city if I try, and I’ll know if something happens to her.”

And just like that, the bottom dropped out of Jason’s stomach.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Pretended he didn’t know what she’d be doing when she left, out in the city, one fucking accident from being like him.

Even worrying about Danny getting sick of him was better than that.

She might not even need the pit to bring her back this time. Gotham had a fuck ton of native ectoplasm even for a city; it couldn’t not.

Ectoplasm was made of and attracted to raw emotional energy. For all that people died every day in the city, more were born or moved in to join their ranks.

Gotham would be a metaphorical ghost town if they hadn’t, instead of the literal version slowly creeping across the city’s vigilantes.

From the rogues’ overdramatic schemes to the peoples’ undercurrent of rage and defiant joy, Gotham seethed with emotion. Most of the dead didn’t stay to use the ecto up, and every rogue attack brought a fresh wave.

Not clean ectoplasm like the realms, but tainted with their individual torments, the fierce glee, the desire to burn, it all churned into an ambient ectoplasm Danny swore he’d never seen in another city.

And that defiant spirit, the Gotham je ne sais quoi that made people put up with all the rogue attacks and dangers, was powerful too. Jason had known that even as a kid.

Now, it was literally the reason he was alive.

He might have a second core filling his system with pit water, but they’d both have dried up without the boundless “fuck off” energy Gotham was built on.

He’d felt it since the second he returned. He was alive in Gotham in a way he hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat, anywhere but the fucking pit. It let him think clearly.

Well.

Apparently Danny let him think clearly. That thought still stung. But it shouldn’t have surprised him.

He’d never been much of anything that other people didn’t make him.

It was why he didn’t really mind Clockwork trying to make him Danny’s knight within a couple hours of learning he was half dead. It was kinda what he did.

People had been using him as a weapon since he swung a tire iron at Batman himself. Protecting the guy who gave him his fucking soul back?

He’d have done that anyway, for free. And he got a kickass gun and a supernatural sense of when said asshole needed him. Honestly, easiest job of his life.

The catch would come eventually, but this whole “feeling the intent of people you talk to” thing left him way less suspicious than he still kinda felt he should be.

He’d rather that than be left nebulously owing his whole self to Danny with no way to repay him and no idea where the catch would come from.

It had just… never occurred to him that the same way Danny could reach out and find Vlad, he’d be able to find Cass. Or Jason himself, probably.

Jason hadn’t realised how tightly he’d wound himself until the pressure eased.

He sucked in a breath that seemed to fill his chest for the first time in hours, folded his arms forward onto the handlebars, and let his head rest against them.

Danny followed him down, never losing contact but his face slipping lower and lower down Jason’s back. It almost made him chuckle, imagining how they must have looked.

Actually, he did. Just a moment, a soft and almost giddy sound that he choked back immediately. He sounded… well. Not like himself.

He’d been itching since the girls left to patrol, wishing he could join them. Be Cass’s backup in the field and be sure she wasn’t going in on anything big alone.

Cass was a step beyond competent, she was exceptional and she’d been doing this for years without a shadow. On a regular day, she wouldn’t need help.

But hearing how close she was to losing her humanity and not coming back right no matter what had him on edge. He wanted to shield her, protect her from what he’d gone through.

It wasn’t that he wanted her out of the fight. The idea of asking her not to go out hadn’t even occurred to him. She could make her own choices and he’d back her with all he had.

He just absolutely fucking hated the idea that she was out there alone, while he had fucking nothing on him that’d let him go after her if she did need backup.

If she needed help, he’d have to waste time gearing up before he could go out after her. The other bats would have her back, they all would, so long as they weren’t busy too.

It wasn’t like he was anyone’s first choice for backup even now, he just.

Yeah. He might kinda get what Danny meant about his Obsession being protection. Protecting the bats was a recent addition, but Jason had burned himself out on enough missing kids since he got back to suspect.

He’d have to ask what an actual capital-letter Obsession felt like, but that would wait for another time.

Just knowing that Cass would be safe, had another pair of eyes and more powers than a Kryptonian watching her back made him feel like he could breathe again.

Even knowing that though, he was glad to have left the manor. He could take Danny home, suit up, and… wait.

Danny had no choice but to move back as he straightened, half moving to frown down at the smaller man.

“Is that why you wanted to leave?” He asked quietly, gauging Danny’s face.

Had Danny worked it out on his own? Felt him stressing out about his baby sister back in the field?

Did Danny know that Jason wanted to join her, if not necessarily which costume he wore, and cut his night short?

Would Danny do that for him?

The answer was obvious in the other man’s face as Danny shrugged, even before he spoke.

“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot, and I figured you’d rather get out of there,” he explained casually, leaning just a little into Jason. Enough to feel what warmth Danny had.

Jason hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say. If he should thank Danny. If Danny would ask, and if Jason should tell him he was the Red Hood now.

It’d be weirder the longer he didn’t mention it. Like he was keeping a secret.

The same secret Danny had kept as a teenager, so at least he’d probably understand, but Jason didn’t like how it felt. He wasn’t fucking ashamed of being the Red Hood.

He’d done shit no one else ever could have, and every inch of his territory was safer than it had ever been without him. He was proud of what he’d done, even if he wouldn’t brag about his methods.

It worked. It got him where he was today, where he didn’t need to kill anymore because people turned tail at the hint of his damn name.

He still didn’t know how Danny felt about killing. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation much. Maybe he’d find a way to ask first.

Tonight, he managed a stiff nod and leaned a little of his own weight back into Danny. Even if the guy thought he was just gonna go home and mope there instead, it was a win.

“Thanks,” he said softly, half wishing for his helmet’s voice modulator. He didn’t like hearing his own voice sound so… vulnerable.

Danny, fucking angel of mercy that he was, chuckled softly and gave him a gentle tap upside the head.

“Yeah, well. Also wasn’t sure how the others would react to “99% of you are permanently on my radar” anyway, and I wanted to make sure you knew for Cass,” he explained cheerfully.

And yeah, Jason still hadn’t really processed that yet, and wasn’t even sure how he’d react. Smart fucking call on Danny’s part.

Chuckling under his breath, Jason shook his head and flipped the kickstand back up.

“Anything else before I take you to bed?” He asked, half teasing Danny’s own unfortunate choice of words earlier.

They were absolutely still fucking with his family to think this was some kind of romantic relationship. Maybe a bit to punish Bruce, who clearly couldn’t handle the idea of Jason happy.

Danny laughed, a hint of something Jason almost identified behind it, then settled himself more firmly against Jason’s back, hanging on properly again.

“Not a damn thing. Oh, are you gonna come pick me up tomorrow or do I make my own way to the manor to join you and Harley?” He asked, snugged up tight.

Jason had almost forgotten that was happening. Apparently. And suddenly he was glad for at least the motorcycle helmet as his cheeks flushed pink.

Fuck he’d say he was trailing after Danny like a puppy, except Danny was the one going where Jason needed to be.

Another excuse to get Danny on his bike, arms around him.

Fuck off, Jason Todd Romance Heroine. It was a goddamn jailbreak, if a legal one. Not a fucking meet cute.

“If you actually want to come,” he agreed a little hesitantly, because the voice that insisted he was just a burden and Danny was only humouring him wasn’t all displacement activity after all.

Or pit related, apparently. Delightful.

He coulda tried to pretend it was, but that had been more convincing back when it was always a background grumble of anger, not the little calm pool of happiness now sitting in his gut.

Unforeseen side effect of getting his toxic sludge cleaned up: he was gonna have to own some of his own bullshit now. Work out what was his and what wasn’t.

Danny leaned back a little, grip loosening, and Jason could feel concern like a whisper soft touch.

“Yeah… I would, if you don’t mind? It seems like he’s important to you.”

Jason wasted a moment trying to work out what the hell Danny meant by that.

Did he want to meet Croc cuz he was important to Jason? Or did he think Jason wouldn’t want him to if he was important?

Cuz while yeah, Jason considered Waylon a friend (and thanks, Harley, for the new name crisis, love that. The guy introduced himself as Killer Croc but Jason knew all about controlling a narrative) it wasn’t like he was family. Not like Dick, Cass, or the others.

Except. Roy was family. Long before any of the bats made it back into Jason’s good books, Roy was one of the first people to be happy Jason was alive.

And Waylon had helped Roy get help when Ollie fucking kicked him out.

Waylon had been a restraining hand on Jason’s shoulder too, in the bad old days. Keeping him from pushing too hard, going too big, doing something he really couldn’t come back from.

Family didn’t have to mean annoying texts at four AM. Didn’t have to come around for dinner every Sunday; how often did any of them really see Harley?

Fuck, how often would they have seen each other if Alfred didn’t have them all firmly under his culinary thumb.

Waylon had to count as a reliable old uncle at least.

And that kinda made it a different question. Did Jason want Danny to meet his family?

It had been an easy “yes” with the bats, not least because the nosy bastards would muscle their way in regardless. Croc…

Waylon never judged Jason. From his highest highs to lowest lows, he never looked down on him. Not even when he was telling Jason to stop and think.

It kinda made Jason ache for what his life should have been. His, and Waylon’s if he’d never been called Killer Croc.

And maybe it’d give Jason a read on how Danny would react to the Red Hood thing. Or whether or not Danny already knew.

——————

Ah, the darker sides of this story back again. We’ll get to Waylon himself next chapter (I hope), and in the mean time dear Jason has some baby angst and Bruce will only confuse things further

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna

[impossible-rat-babies]

15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

i got tagged by @lilas! ty friend! im gonna tag (sorry for possible double tagging): @thevikingwoman, @hythlodaes, @lavampira, @consulaaris, @gefiltefished, @scionshtola, @starrypawz and anyone else!

a lot of these are from unfinished wips w/o context, im so sorry

1. “Nay, I should have spoken my mind soon after arriving Slitherbough. Mistaken as you were to my nature upon us reuniting, I would not so easily cast aside that which you beheld.” They pause, a bitter smile coming to their lips. “A brilliant soul, I have been called before— nomenclature befitting Hydaelyn’s Chosen. And yet it is not Her light which eats away at me now.”

2. “I care in the loneliness that stood before me in the place beyond the stars. How it looked down at me and I wondered how I had not yet memorized its face. How it asked me if this would be the last time I would gaze upon its face, and if the ache between my ribs would leave me.”

3. Eyrie pauses, worrying their lip. “Pity—pity and sorrow ‘twas what I felt most keenly. Not truly alive, but never allowed to die. A most vile fate for a once great wyrm of the first brood.”

4. “Keeping yourself busy are you?” Alisiae asks, shutting the door behind her. They hold up the book idly, a sigh escaping their lips.

“T’was Krile’s idea. A measure put in place should my vision stagnate at this state, or deteriorate further.”

5. “I know, Alisaie.” They whisper softly, reaching out again to take her hands. Tinged with barely there warmth and stiff fingers as their hold her hands tight. “I know I am dying. I can feel it—beneath my chest, next to my heart. ‘Tis so very dark and cold there.”

“Then why?” She asks, voice tender in her throat. Fingers tensing in their gentle hold. “Why keep telling us it is going to be okay?”

“I would not have us give into grief.” They reply.

“Tis for the dead we grieve, not for the living. With the ache in my chest comes fear, but I would not give up hope. I would not see sorrow rob us of what time we have left. I would not see you mourn just yet.”

6. “Tis easy to peer from the outside in and question why your grandfather gave his life unto a people so fit to squabble and worry naught of any greater threat than that beyond their own borders. Your anger was not unfounded, Alisaie.”

“Still…I should have known better. What would grandfather have had to say?”

Eyrie grins, inclining their head towards her. “Oh something important I would imagine—he was oft given to providing sage advice…if asked or not.”

7. They look up at the sky stretching so far above—the distant twinkling of the stars.

“Ignorant I was to the horrors that would follow. All of my many long years in the wood had made me blind. To what one had to endure—what one would be asked to do; what I have done to my fellow man. There came a time when I stopped and looked back to see myself very far from the intentions that first compelled my feet to walk forward. And there would be no returning.”

8. “I can storm the tower, Y’shtola. ‘Tis simply…”

They rub their hands together, eyes narrowing.

“I do not trust my hands. Alphinaud tended to some of my hurts, but I was more afraid of his touch. Afraid of my own hands should he have found a bruise too tender or raw; what horrors a simple touch would invite into my head. If i had grabbed his wrist in my terror and broken it…how could I forgive myself for that? For hurting him?”

9. They pause, letting the words sink in as the boy deflates, working his lips in ill disguised frustration.

“Alphinaud.” They break the heavy silence looming above them. “I am not a sword to point at the enemies of Eorzea, or the Scions. I am not a soldier to be ordered about—told of my singular duty and thus committed to the cause without fear. Without despair or anxiety. Standing as a shield before the plight of a helpless world, begging for a hero to lead her to a new path. There is resentment there, Alphinaud—I will not lie. I love Eorzea.”

[ww2yaoi]

tagged by @oatflatwhite to share some of my wip! thank you this is fun

I'm gonna tag @avonne-writes and anyone else who wants to do this

taking my stab at the buck(y) reunion scene and subsequent aftermath

Nine days. John thinks Gale is dead for nine excruciating days. No pain compares, not a wooden beam to the temple, nor the bitter forest floor he collapses upon. He prays for a quick death as he feels the barrel of a rifle dig into his back, but it never comes. By the time he’s being marched to the Stalag, his body is screaming all over. He probably has a concussion, some broken ribs, a skull fracture or two. His hair is matted with blood and his legs are throbbing. He can barely keep himself upright. He’s a dead man walking.

But then, there are familiar faces peeking out from behind barbed wire: Crank, Murph, Glen. John feels a dangerous glimmer of hope. His eyes search the crowd.

Buck, where the hell are you?

And then he hears it, just to his right. “John Egan! Your two o’clock.”

By some miracle, Buck is smirking at him, leaning against the fence with his sheepskin characteristically pulled up around his neck. John is swept up in the great undertow of relief. He smiles, suddenly alive again, and the aching in his heart abates, if just for a moment.

“What took you so long?” Gale asks and bites back a grin.

John wants to run over and kiss the breath out of his lungs, but the Krauts would probably shoot him dead if he tried. He falls into formation again, marching past the open gates and into the camp. His body pumps with adrenaline, his quick beating heart thwacking against his ribcage. He makes it a few more steps before the world suddenly blurs. Inkblots dot his vision and he collapses right there in the dirt. Gale’s ensuing shout rings hollowly in his ears as he loses consciousness, everything going blank.

John dreams of the mob like he has every night since the massacre happened. Sometimes he’s the first to get picked off, a swift gunshot to the temple and he crumples to the ground, blood oozing out of his ears. Sometimes the crowd descends on him like a pack of hungry dogs, tearing him open with dirty fingernails, ripping him limb from limb. This time, he watches each man die, their whey-faced corpses falling at his feet one by one. He wants to scream, but his voice expires in his throat. Then, the mob is on him again. He thrashes. Hands encircle his wrists to pin him down in the mud, viscous with blood.

Then, Gale is calling to him through the dark. “John, you’re okay. You’re gonna be all right.”

John chases his voice, his eyes opening. Soft light floods his vision as he tries to orient himself. He’s in a small, unfamiliar room, lying supine on a thin cot. His head swims as a deep ache shoots down the back of his neck. His vision is still blurry and his skin is burning all over. Voices he doesn’t recognize break up the quiet, and panic rises in his chest. He goes to sit up, but a hand gently presses him back down onto the cot. He has no strength to resist it. He can barely flinch away from its touch.

“Buck?” John musters after a moment, and his voice is a faint rasp.

“Hey, I’m here.” John feels warm, calloused fingers interlock with his own. “This is Doc, he’s gonna help fix you up.”

John lifts his head slightly to look at the man hunched over him, but keeping his eyes open for very long is hard. The man is older, with rounded glasses sliding down his hawkish nose. The bridge of them is held together with medical tape, and he’s dressed in the same holey clothes and burlap coat as the other prisoners.

It’s then that John realizes he’s naked from the waist up. Doc is examining his ribs, the skin surrounding them so deeply purple the bruises almost appear black. Doc runs his hands over his ribcage, gently pressing his fingers into the flesh as if to test its integrity. John groans in pain and Gale squeezes his hand.

It’s Crank’s voice that John hears next. “What the fuck happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Doc says, “but his orbital socket is broken, and he has two or three fractured ribs, at least. We should bind them. There’s some aspirin in my kit, Gale. It should help with the pain and lower his fever.”

John is reluctant to let go of Gale’s hand, but he has to when Gale leans over to rummage around in Doc’s medical bag. He produces a small bottle. Crank hands Doc a tin mug of muddy-looking water.

“Come on, sit him up.”

John tries not to cry out in pain as Crank and Gale help prop him up against the wall. The only thing that stops him is Gale’s hands on his bare back. He wraps his arms around John’s middle and gently lifts him into a sitting position. Doc unwinds a spool of bandages around John’s abdomen and fastens them tightly. Then, Gale is pressing an aspirin pill into John’s mouth, fingertips nudging against his tongue.

“Take this,” Gale says and brings the tin mug to John’s lips. He tips it forward and John drinks gratefully, even though the water tastes strangely sour. “That’s it. Do you want to lay back down?”

John nods weakly.

“I’ve got him,” Gale says to Crank before lowering John back down on the cot.

He pulls the thin blanket up to John’s chin.

“Buck,” John mumbles, and it seems to be the only word he can say.

He feels half insane, like maybe he’s still dreaming. Maybe the mob really did kill him, and heaven just looks an awful lot like a Kraut prison camp. John forces his eyes open again and looks over at Gale. His face is soft but scarred, a bit thinner than he last remembers it. He peers over at John with such open worry that it knocks the breath out of his lungs.

Doc collects his things and closes his medical bag, standing up from his chair. “If his fever gets any worse, we can move him to the sick quarters. Until then, I think it’s best that you monitor him closely.”

Gale nods. “Will do, Doc. Thank you.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Crank says, then goes to walk him out.

Alone now, Gale’s hand finds John’s again. He raises it to his face and presses his cheek into John’s palm. John cradles his head with the little strength he has, fingers splaying out into his hair.

“Buck,” he says again and smiles. “You’re alive.”

“So are you,” Gale replies. He turns his head and plants a kiss on John’s dirty palm. “God, John, what happened to you?”

“Krauts,” John deadpans. “You’re the first pretty face I’ve seen in a while.”

Gale smiles softly at that, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him much. “When Crank and Brady and the others showed up without you, I thought the worst.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy.” John laughs, but it makes his ribs cry out in response. He groans. “You don’t have anything stronger than aspirin, do you?”

“Afraid not,” Gale says. “You’re gonna have to dry out in here.”

John hadn’t even thought of that. “Christ, every bone in my body is broken and I can’t even get a stiff drink?”

“You’ll be okay,” Gale says, patting the hand resting against his cheek. “You seem better already. Enough to complain, at least.”

John rolls his eyes. He wants to playfully shove Gale, but he doesn’t think he could lift his arm if he tried.

“Get some rest,” Gale says. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours. You’ll need to eat something.”

He removes John’s hand from his cheek and tucks it against his side underneath the blanket.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” John asks.

Gale shakes his head. “I’ll be right here.”

He leans over and presses a kiss to John’s hot forehead, then sits back down in the chair by John’s cot. John closes his eyes, and it doesn’t take long for him to fall into another fitful sleep.

[captainjunglegym]

WIP WEDNESDAY - 13/03/2024

Tagged by jon @bigassbowlingballhead love u pal <3

I am on somewhat of a short writing sabbatical I tell myself. I've posted nearly 75,000 words in six weeks which is a lot for me. So I'm taking this week to relax from my WIPs before starting to post scheduled oneshots and start a new chaptered fic.

That being said i wrote a 1500 word fic this morning which you can just have here lmao.

Summary:

Exes Alex and Henry meet at the funeral of Henry's twin George who was killed suddenly aged only thirty-five. They haven't seen each other in four years.

The wind is bitter as it blows down from the top of the hill. It’s March, so it’s that time of year where the sun isn’t quite ready to negate the feel of the chill early in the morning and late into the evening. It’s already eleven am and the sun does feel warm when the wind dies down. A few moments reprieve where Henry doesn’t have to pull his coat tighter around his body or wish that he’d worn something that was more wind proof.

They don’t really make raincoats that are funeral approved, however.

Still, he pulls his thin black pea coat so it doubles over him. It’s too big. It’s not his. It was too big for George too, but his brother loved to wear oversized things. Said it made him feel small and holdable.

The thought crushes Henry. What he’d give to hold George now.

Everyone else has already gone. His mother didn’t even show. Her grief is exponential, increasing and deepening at such a fast rate now that she cannot be touched. Losing her husband young destroyed her, but burying one of her children eviscerated her. Not even the scars of her former self remain anymore.

And Henry understands. More so maybe this time than when his father died. He loved his father so much, but George was his twin, the other half of his soul. Maybe this is what his mother felt. Maybe this is what it feels like to break apart. Except she isn’t haunted by her husband by every reflective surface, by every future birthday. By every photograph of his childhood, every fucking Instagram post. By every friend they had because they didn’t even have separate friendship groups. Everything they had they had together and now Henry inherits it all.

It's too much.

(continues under cut, tags following)

It’s times like these that Henry curses being raised as an atheist. He wishes he could believe that something came after this, that he and George will meet again, but he can’t. People tell him that George is in a better place. A dark part of him agrees that six feet under some fucking dirt is probably better than living in a two bed on Peckham Highstreet. It’s a lot cheaper.

Henry gets the sudden urge to jump into the grave. It’s open, waiting for someone to come and cover George and seal him down there forever. Henry could just jump in with him.

“I didn’t think anyone would still be here.” A voice says from behind Henry, startling him.

He turns to see a beautiful man wrapped up in a warm black coat and scarf. It’s Alex, because of course it is. Who else would be so late to a funeral they miss the entire service. Who else would spring up out of the ground at Henry’s moment of despair like some kind of macabre dandelion.

“Right on time, I see.” Henry tries to snark, but his voice comes out small and fragile.

“My flight was delayed.”

Henry hums. “Nice to know George wasn’t worth flying out a day in advance.”

“Don’t.” Alex says, firmly but not aggressively as he moves to stand next to Henry. “Don’t do that, H.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t act like I didn’t care about him too.”

Henry feels crazed, like he wants to scream and tear off his clothes and jump into the lake and inhale the water.

He lets out a forced laugh instead. “Oh right! Of course. My apologies. Of course my ex-boyfriend who I haven’t seen in four years also cares about my fucking dead twin brother, so much so that he shows up uninvited at his funeral an hour too late. I’m sorry for being so insensitive.”

“H-”

“-No!” Henry shouts. It’s so out of character that it snaps Alex’s mouth shut. He lowers his voice. “No. I don’t know why you’re even here.”

Alex looks down at his shoes. “Would you believe me if I told you Philip invited me?”

Henry scoffs. “Pull another one.”

“It’s true,” Alex says gently. “He called me…after… He called me when, uhm-”

“-When George was stabbed to death in a pub in broad daylight?”

Alex lets that sit for a moment. “Uhm. Yes. He called me again to invite me.” He takes a deep breath and when he speaks again his voice cracks, “we were together for ten years, Henry. I loved George like he was my own family. We were a family.”

And they were. Alex had met Henry at university, and they fell in love almost immediately. Alex had transferred to London and George was assigned to be his ‘buddy’ and he’d always taken credit for introducing Alex to Henry. Always said that he’d have to mention that in his speech at their wedding.

The air leaves Henry’s body, but he doesn’t breathe out. It just evaporates in his lungs. He and Alex never got married. George never got to give his speech. And now George will never be able to give a speech at his wedding. Never be his best man.

But he has to give it to Alex. George was his friend and he know that they’d sort of kept in touch over the years, in an Instagram comment every couple of months. He never begrudged George of that. Their breakup was hard, and Henry got everything. Got their friends, their flat, the whole fucking country. Alex had gone back to Texas and not looked back. George was collateral in their breakup too and Henry knows that losing Alex was tough on him as well.

“H?” Alex is hesitant, but he gently takes Henry’s hand in his.

“I don’t know how to do this.” Henry says suddenly. “I don’t know how to do any of this without him.”

George was his better. The two-minute older brother who was confidant and sociable, who looked after Henry every fucking day for thirty-five years. Who literally and metaphorically held Henry’s hand throughout all of their hardships. Henry remembers their father’s funeral, how Philip was stone silent, and Bea was high, and their mother was vacant. How George, only eighteen, took charge and read a eulogy. He was a lighthouse built onto the rock, so strong and bright.

Afterwards George had cried, they’d both cried, in each other’s arms. But the next day George had got out of bed and forced Henry to do the same.

“It’s going to be hard; I know.” Alex says, squeezing his hand. “But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit. I mean. Look at me. You left my sorry ass.”

Henry thinks about how Alex had lost himself in his work and how their relationship had degraded over six months of broken promises and missed dinners and sitting alone in their apartment. And how it broke him down into nothing before he’d finally had enough. They’d both had enough.

He’s heard that Alex is doing better now. That he’s finally learning how to have that work/life balance that was only a dream to them back then.

“I’m all alone this time.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Bea has Michael and the twins. Philip is…well he’s Philip. Mum is completely vacant and our friends are all grieving.”

Henry knows Alex is going to say some placating bullshit like, ‘oh it’s okay you have me,’ like he doesn’t live thousands of miles away.

“You should come stay at the lake house.” Is what Alex says instead.

“What?”

The lake house was their place. Before everything went to shit, they often spent time there, sometimes with their friends, sometimes with Alex’s family, sometimes just the two of them. It’s a haven, really. A place where time doesn’t exist. All sunshine and water and blues skies.

“Come stay at the lake house. Get away from London for a while.”

“But my family-”

“-Be a little selfish for once, H.” Alex turns to him and looks him in the eyes. “I don’t have to be there. You can just come and unwind in the sun. Take a break from this all and have time to grieve properly.”

It’s insane. It’s irresponsible. It’s not possible. He buried his brother an hour ago, his family is falling apart again but.

But this time they all have their own families to fall back on. Their own spouses and kids. Even his mother lives with Philip and Martha and has them to look after her.

Henry lived with George, not out of necessity, but out of love. George who’s dead. George whose dirty tea mug is still on his bedside table and his laundry still in the hamper.

He can’t go back there.

“Okay.” Henry says. “Okay I’ll come with you.”

And, later, it’s hard to get on the plane. But once he’s in the air, he takes his first deep breath in weeks.

[End]

easy tag for @anincompletelist @eusuntgratie @nocoastposts @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @littlemisskittentoes @thinkof-england @happiness-of-the-pursuit @wordsofhoneydew @sparklepocalypse @magicandarchery @sunnysideprince and anyone i've forgotten plus open tag for anyone!!!