#“he doesn’t know they’re alive. or maybe he doesn’t care.”< SOBS.

[sidesteppostinghours]

#gideon shut the hell up challenge#people keep saying they’re sorry for your loss. Your Loss. that is how they refer to your brothers. how they refer to you.#you have always been one of three. part of the pack. and that has always been fine but now you are alone and you are not You but your loss.#julia says sorry for your loss. ricardo says sorry for your loss. you yell that it should be their loss too. it is everyone’s loss.#they have lost your brothers and now they have lost you too. (fate works in funny ways you think)#at the funeral people offer apologies. offer you flowers. offer you baked goods and stories of how [your loss] saved them or their mom or#their dad’s uncle’s wife’s coworker’s daughter’s friend from childhood or someone else equally unimportant. someone alive.#[I’m sorry for your loss] they all say and you do not say thank you. there is no being thankful for [your loss].#[I’m sorry] says ricardo. you stop listening. [I’m sorry] says julia. you wonder if she said it to the man she punched.#you do not apologize back. you do not let it be [their loss]. it is yours. they have always been yours.#[I’m sorry] says chen . for river and cyrus. the first to use their names with you. to acknowledge them as your brothers. to make them more#than just the pieces of you that have been broken. and you thank him.#we like writing in tags sorry !!!! also at some point the original idea was that any parts of ‘I’m sorry for your loss’#would start distorting and then get blacked out to show like. when u hear smth so much and esp w grief that u just block it out#anyway. survivor!fawn but still factoring in that chen is not afraid to just. Say Things.#esp in v3 I think the ortegas would be even more cautious w fawn out of wanting to not upset them and meanwhile chen is like yeah I’m gonna#just straight up acknowledge ur brothers for u bc I can tell that’s what u need#we are also thinking abt v3!au and fawn being heartbreak but. that’s not for this post obvs

#gideon shut the hell up challenge#really most of this is a continuation of the last hb!f post but. we will repeat it bc !! thoughts !!!#north purposefully reading the paper in front of fawn while keeping tabs on them…. watching as their eyes are glued to the headlines#the first is about heartbreak. the loss of the sidesteps. the fact that one survived. the funeral.#he says he can’t let them read the articles (maybe if they’re good he promises and the numbers mean they can’t tell if he’s lying) but then#well. if he takes juuust long enough for them to read the front article while he flips through the shit inside… how is that His fault? :)#one brother is dead he says. the other brother is alive. and he says they’re dead too. fawn tries to argue but he points out that#if he was going to rescue them wouldn’t he have? he saw you fall fawn. he knows there’s no body. where’s your brother? where’s his loyalty?#north says fawn has always been faithful. he knows that. he knows Them. he’s their handler! of course he knows them! so he knew they would#come back :) and if their brothers knew them wouldn’t they know? wouldn’t they care? wouldn’t they try to save their siblings instead of#just random civilians? they played hero and it killed their brother. their brother is playing hero still. maybe being a hero#means having blood on your hands. not like fawn. spotless and clean. a little broken but not unfixable. they’ll fix them :) they’ll Help :)#it takes years to get out. years of watching headline after headline abt sidestep’s exploits. more public now than before.#it hurts to read sidestep’s name. The sidestep. not the sidestepS. doing just fine alone. unlike them.#it is so hard to be upset at their brother. it is so Easy to be upset at their brother. there is a voice in their head that says#horrible things in a voice that is theirs but not theirs (it is cyrus and river and chen and north and heartbreak and-)#but they don’t listen. it would be so easy but they forgive him. they always will. and they’ll help him!#he doesn’t know they’re alive. or maybe he doesn’t care. but he knows abt the farm. he cares abt the farm. and they’ll help him be ready#hero hunter (prepare them) fawn who is doing so out of not self preservation but a fucked up version of love ??#‘​you let me die but I forgive you and will keep you alive’ ?? ‘my blood is on your hands but I will not have yours on mine’ ???#(​we haven’t thought at all abt meeting up w the villain!brother tho lmao)

PEER REVIEWING THESE TAGS FOR MYSELF BECAUSE. HEY. HEY!!!!!!

oh survivor!fawn we are really in it now

[munsonsmixtapes]

I'm Still Your Boy

Ex=boyfriend!Eddie x fem!reader

After your boyfriend cheats on you at your birthday party, your ex Eddie reminds you that he'll always be your shoulder to cry on.

cw: hurt/comfort, mention of cheating

You don’t know what you did to deserve this. Maybe it’s because of something you did in a past life. Some sort of karma, perhaps? Whatever the reason, you don’t think you actually deserve to be cheated on by your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who told you that he wanted to save himself for you and you alone, which seemed to be a fucking lie just to get in your pants considering you caught him with the very girl he told you not to worry about. 

They were fucking and to make it even more sad, they were fucking in your bed at your birthday party. Well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top of the shit sundae? And they were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even hear you slam the door. 

Before anyone could see you cry, you hurry to the bathroom, thankful that you’re upstairs and that no one else was around. What’s supposed to be a fun celebration has turned into something you’ll remember forever for all the wrong reasons. 

As soon as you’re alone, you sit on the toilet and begin to cry. Maybe you feel a bit pathetic but you can’t help it. Sure, it’s not like you actually loved the man, but it still hurts like hell. Especially when Josh told you time and time again that Chelsea would never be a problem. 

And now you find yourself wondering how long they’ve been doing it behind your back. And why you feel so hurt. It’s not like you even liked him that much. And now this is the excuse to break up with him that you’ve been looking for. 

You’re full on sobbing now and it’s not like you’re surprised, you were expecting it to happen with the way they’re always looking at each other, but you’d think your boyfriend would at least have some decency to not cheat on you at your birthday party. But apparently that was too much to ask. 

You grab some toilet paper from the roll next to you and blow your nose, absolutely positive that you look terrible with mascara tears streaming down your cheeks, but you can’t get yourself to look. That would just make you feel even worse. You spent hours on your makeup and now you let some stupid boy ruin it in a matter of minutes. 

Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s doing at this party. He wants to be here, but he’s not even sure why he was invited. The two of you broke up years ago and even though it was mutual and there was no bad blood, you just drifted apart. 

He feels so weird being here in this house. There are so many memories that the two of you have created here, a time capsule of your relationship. He wants to be there to celebrate you, but being there with all of the little moments the two of you shared throughout your relationship is far too painful to relive. He misses you so much more than he’d ever care to admit. 

He wants to be your friend again, but seeing the way your new boyfriend was glaring daggers at him when everyone was singing “Happy Birthday”, he’s not so sure that’s a good idea. He’s only known he guy a couple of hours and he’s already convinced with a few drinks in his system, he’d knock him the fuck out. 

His name is Josh for starters. Fucking Josh. That should be a red flag on its own. He also somehow got you the wrong cake which was clearly mostly for him since he seemed so excited about it. That seemed to be a common theme considering the same went for your gift. He got you a video game for a system that you don’t even have and it was the second one in a series. 

And Eddie swore he wasn’t going to leave the party alive when you opened your gift from him. It was a special edition of your favorite book as a child and if looks could have killed, he would have been dead. You seemed so grateful for the gift, even going as far as hugging Eddie, nothing but happy tears pricking your eyes. 

He didn’t realize just how much he missed holding you until you were in his arms again. You just fit so perfectly. Before he could reminisce too much, you pulled away, moving back to sit in Josh’s lap, but he was nowhere to be found. 

Out of all of your friends who were there, Eddie seemed to be the only one who could tell just how little fun you were having. How was it that you seemed to be invisible at your own birthday party? Why was he the only one who seemed to care? The two of you weren’t even friends anymore. Maybe after tonight, that’ll change.He really wants to reconnect. Maybe he can invite you out for coffee and the two of you can catch up. 

It’s almost midnight. Most of the guests have already left or they’re so drunk that they’ve passed out on the various pieces of furniture around the first level of the house. You’ve disappeared and that’s all Eddie cares about. He wants to find you so he can say goodnight and get the fuck out of there before he does something he’ll regret. 

He heads up the stairs on the hunt for you, but he realizes that he needs to go to the bathroom first. He knows he should anyway before he hits the road. He sees the bathroom door is cracked and heads for it, opening it expecting to see it empty, but he finds you sitting on the toilet sobbing your eyes out. 

“Eddie, hey,” you grin at him, trying your best to look normal even though your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear stained. 

“Hey.” He waves awkwardly in a way that you’ve always found so adorable. “Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. I’ll give you some privacy. He turns to leave, but you grab hold of his wrist before he can get too far. 

“Will you stay with me?” You ask with a sniff. He would stay with you even if you weren’t crying, but he especially will because you are. 

He shuts the door all the way then sits on his knees in front of you, forcing himself to look at you even though seeing you cry always broke his heart. He doesn’t know why you’re crying but he has a guess. He doesn’t ask even though he really wants to. He wants to wait for you to speak, not wanting to pry, but just keep you company as you go through a hard time. 

He takes the toilet paper from you and wipes away your tears, gently dabbing to preserve what little makeup is left. He knows how important that kind of thing is to you. Well, he’s actually not so sure you feel that way still. He forgets that he doesn’t actually know you anymore. 

“I look terrible, don’t I?” You look up at him, lips trembling and he really doesn't think he can take seeing you cry anymore. It’ll just make his heart break even more than it already has.

“You look beautiful as always.” It’s his go-to response but it always worked like a charm. He wonders if his flirting still has the same effect on you. He used to love seeing the way you’d get all giggly when he would compliment you. 

“But you have to say that, you’re my-” you cut yourself off, remember that Eddie isn’t your boyfriend anymore. Your boyfriend is the reason why you’re crying. “Sorry, habit.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head. “You do look beautiful, though. That dress is great, but I wouldn’t expect anything less. You always did have good style, y/n.” 

“Is this all just your clever way of getting into my pants?” The words are dripping with venom and Eddie wonders what he said that made everything shift. He was just paying a compliment, nothing more, nothing less. 

His eyes widen and he stammers, trying his best to save himself quickly as he’s drowning fast. Your eyes widen as well so clearly you’re just as surprised by your sudden outburst. You have no idea where it came from especially since Eddie has never been that kind of guy and he especially wouldn’t be now knowing that you have a boyfriend.

“No,” he finally says as he’s able to find the words. “I was just paying you a compliment and you know that.” 

“I-I’m sorry.” You’re shaking your head, hating how you’ve spoken to him, accusing him  of something that he clearly wasn’t even doing. “I just caught Josh cheating on me and I guess I’m taking it out on you.” 

“He what?” Oh now he’s livid. He’s got to kiss this guy’s ass now that he finally has an excuse. 

“It’s my fault,” you shake your head again. “I wasn’t giving him enough attention-” your words are cut off by Eddie taking your face in his hands, staring you down. 

“It’s not your fault. Stop making excuses for him y/n. That guy is a fucking loser and he doesn’t deserve you. He deserves to end up broke and alone.” You know he’s right but just want to pass the blame onto yourself because then there would actually be a reason for Josh’s cheating other than the fact that he just doesn’t seem to care about you. 

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He does in your eyes. ever since the two of you started hanging out, he had a knack for telling you exactly what you needed to hear even if it was a little too blunt for your liking. You appreciated that he never failed to tell you the truth no matter how much it may have hurt.

“I try.” It seems like all of your feelings for each other that have been bottled up are pouring out, now almost palpable because of how strong they are.

“I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” Eddie replies, moving his thumbs back and forth across your cheeks just like he used to do. “I’ll be kicking myself for letting you slip through my fingers for the rest of my life.”

“What if we gave it another try? The friendship part?” Your face lights up at his suggestion and you decide that this is the best birthday present you’ve ever received. 

“I’d really like that. Hey, I think Benny’s is still open. Do you want to get something to eat?” 

“I’d love nothing more.” Eddie helps you up from the toilet and leads you out the front door where you head to his van to head to the diner. 

The two of you find yourselves in your favorite booth, eating and laughing like no time has passed. You stay there into the early morning as the sun comes up, finishing off your meal with a milkshake that the two of you share for old time’s sake and right then and there, Eddie realizes that he’s still is very much your boy, still wrapped around your goddamn finger just the way he likes and there’s no other place he’d rather be.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal, Part 18

WC: 1565, Masterpost

“Here to bring me to a debrief?” Danny asks the shadow lurking in the doorway. He swears that Batman almost looks chastised at that. “It’s fine, Batman, I know how these things work.”

“The core Titans are insisting on being there, for moral support,” Batman rumbles. “If you aren’t comfortable with that, they’ll be sent away.”

Danny chuckles; that really is like them. “No, I might as well only go through it all once. Besides, that’s sweet. Can I at least take the time to put on real clothing?”

Batman narrows his eyes at Danny. “You’re still injured. Loose clothing only.”

“Gods, how does no one see what a dad you are,” Danny teases.

Batman smiles, just for a moment, before he turns to sweep over dramatically out of the room. “I’ll send in Flash with some approved clothing.”

“That better be my Flash you’re sending in!” Danny calls after Batman. When the doorway is free of the luring hero, Danny lets himself fall back against the pile of pillows.

A debrief. How is he supposed to explain any of this? So far he hasn’t been allowed to explain things, really. Part of it is that he’s spent most of the last several days asleep. When he has been awake, it’s to a rotating cast of heroes; all heroes that he was close to and knew behind the mask. With every able bodied hero busy with clean up, no one has been able to stay long. He sees Barry the most, what with the other’s leg, but even Barry is busy helping coordinate the recovery efforts.

(Danny’s also pretty sure that they’re using the chance to visit him as a way to make people take a break.)

While the heroes are with him, it’s been mostly Danny getting updated on everyone and whoever is with him getting information to update everyone else with. They won’t even let him work, but they do pass on information about his crews at least. It’s Wally who’s with him the most. Wally was there the first time Danny woke and as Danny breathed through panic attacks and to patiently reply to the endless stream of messages for Danny.

Speak of the devil… Danny’s phone chimes again.

He can’t look at it.

He hasn’t been able to look at it since the first message from Jasmine came in. Since they all remembered.

Wally hadn’t asked. He had just let Danny shake apart in his arms and has handled Danny’s phone from then on. ‘This is Danny’s boyfriend. He’s alive and will recover. He’ll contact you at a later time.’

“I thought we put that thing on silent,” Wally says with a glare at the phone as he steps into the room.

Danny makes shameless grabby hands at the clothing. “So did I. Who is it?”

Danny’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake at the question.

Maybe it’s fair that they’ve all been avoiding the big big questions. Maybe it really is obvious that he’s still only hanging on by a thread. He certainly feels less like a live wire and more like the one, stubborn fuse still humming in the circuit breaker.

He certainly feels weak.

“Jasmine again.”

Danny sucks in a staggered breath and lets it out slowly. “Just… just tell her that I’m sorry, but I can’t yet.”

Wally presses a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I’ll remind her that you’re healing too. You just worry about getting dressed.”

“What, don’t want to help out with that part?” teases Danny as he undid the tie at the base of his neck. The Watchtower might have pretty nice quality, but any medical garb was going to be a little scratchy, and Danny is glad to have it off. He’s careful with his taped over IV port as he slides on the plain white shirt and then the well worn hoodie. It has a faded Nightwing logo and smells like Wally.

Something in Danny’s chest relaxes a little as he buries his face into the fabric and it nearly makes him sob.

“Danny?”

Danny just shakes his head.

“Oh, babe, it’s okay, I’m here. I have you.” Wally tosses the phone onto the bed and wraps Danny up into a hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been around—”

“Don’t, you were saving lives,” Danny says and tucks his face against Wally’s neck. “It’s what you needed to be doing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. I’ve officially been pulled off duty. My job right now is you.”

“I don’t want to take you away from anything important.”

“You aren’t. Babe, you’re why we’re all still here. Let yourself be cared for, okay? I promise if anything comes up that really needs my help I’ll go, but let me make you my priority,” Wally urges.

Danny closes his eyes. “I told myself I’d never ask that of you. I know what you are.”

“You aren’t, I’m offering. Please, babe, let me make you my priority.”

He wants to. Gods does he want to. He wants to go back home to their apartment and have Wally with him and just let the other take care of everything, just for a little bit, just until it stopped feeling like his insides were hollow. Just until he could be okay enough to lie and say that he was fine.

Just until then.

“Okay. I— yeah, okay. I think I need that right now,” Danny manages to admit.

“Thank you,” Wally whispers like it was Danny doing him the great service. “First act, let’s get you out of those pants.”

“You cad,” Danny gasps dramatically.

Wally rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now so Danny counts it as a win. “And get you into the sweatpants.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to debrief in sweats,” Danny says as he lets Wally help him finish changing. He’s a little less balanced in his feet than he’d like to be.

Okay, a lot less balanced.

Wally doesn’t even let him walk to the debrief, instead he insists on pushing Danny there in a wheelchair. Danny knows there’s no shame in needing a wheelchair, but it doesn’t help him be less frustrated at the way he feels weak down to his bones. Hell, he feels weak down to is core. At least he gets to move himself to a regular chair once they’re inside the conference room.

"Thank you for being willing to do this, Danny,” Wonder Woman says. She’s leaning forward, arms resting on the table, and offering a smile. At the table is a selection of other top tier members: Batman, Superman, a Green Lantern (Hal Jordan in this case), John Constantine, Zatanna, and, right next to Danny, Barry.

The Titans are off to the side, slightly behind the Dark members, in chairs that were obviously dragged into the room. Garfield gives Danny an enthusiastic thumbs up that almost makes him laugh.

“Of course. I get why there are questions,” Danny says instead.

“There are,” Superman agreed. “Now, as you aren’t a Justice League member and are in no way under any sort of investigation, this is going to be a bit informal. We’re just trying to make sure our report on recent events are as clear as possible.”

Danny huffs out a breath of air. His gaze darts over to Wally before dropping. “It’s a big more than that, isn’t it?”

“Kid?” Barry asks gently.

“You all want to know what I am, which is fair. If I could have, I would have told you.” Danny looks back at Wally again and gives a half hearted smile. “Sorry I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you?” Batman asks, though the rumble of words isn’t unkind.

A sour smile twists Danny’s lips. “Curses are like that. Aren't they, Laughing Magician?” Danny hears Constantine and sucks in a breath and steels himself to look up at him. “How much do you know about her? About Desiree?”

Constantine shakes his head. “Not much. It’s not wise to go digging into the affairs of a member of the Infinite Realms, even an ended one.”

“Speak normal for the rest of us,” Hal says. “A who of what?”

“Infinite realms. That means a sodding ghost,” Constantine snaps.

Barry scoffs. “Ghost’s aren’t real.”

“Boo,” Danny replies. His smile is slightly too wide.

“Not funny, Danny.”

Danny shrugs. “Not trying to be. I’m half ghost.”

“How is someone half ghost?” Hal asks.

“I’m like Schrödinger’s Cat,” Danny explains. He can’t help for for his gaze to flick over to where the Titans are sitting and find Wally’s eyes. “I’m still in the box, basically. I’m half alive and half dead. Both and neither. A balance.”

“A myth.” Constantine leans forward. He taps the butt of his unlit cigarette against the table. “Or so we always thought. You telling me that you’re a halfa?”

The question pulls Danny’s focus back to the main table of heroes. “Yep. One of three. Me, my godfather, and my clone.”

Superman clears his throat. “Ah, your clone?”

Danny just gives another shrug. “Shit gets weird when you’re a teenage vigilante.”

“Danny,” Batman says, and Danny can’t help but smile again because the man is clearly one step away from pinching the bridge of his nose like he does as Bruce when one of his children is driving him mad. “Start from the beginning. State your name for the record.”

“Danny Jasper Fenton.”

---

AN: Vote was in favor of splitting it up. I've got a chunk of the next part written, so hopefully I can get it finished up next week! Sorry if there are lots of issues, words and me are struggling atm.

Poor Danny is really struggling with things as his world has once again changed. And what will everyone think of him now...?

I no longer tag, instead you can subscribe to the masterpost.

[kinardsevan]

30 days of fluff challenge: day 11

"crying during a movie"

Tommy doesn’t expect it. 

Evan picks the movie that night. It’s a newer one, from the past decade, and Tommy doesn’t really stay up on anything that isn’t a romantic comedy or an action flick, but Evan had found it in the midst of a twenty-minute search for something to watch while they have dinner, and he turns it on without either of them having much information on the movie. 

They’re not far into the film when Tommy questions whether it was the right choice. It’s heavy—a filim about a girl who loses her entire family in an accident, and then has to decide whether she wants to survive alone, or die to be with them—and before long, he can see the way it’s affecting Evan on a much deeper level than they generally go for. Still, as they watch, Evan seems enamored by the film.

Somehow, Tommy gets sucked into it too, even though he’s concerned about the way his boyfriend is being affected by it. Still, it isn’t until the credits roll, and he glances over to see Evan’s reaction to the end of the film, that he finds him nearly beside himself. 

“Babe?” 

Evan inhales a shaky breath as more tears run down his face. He shakes his head and holds up a hand, intimating that he needs a moment. Tommy watches him wordlessly for a time, gives him the requested time to reign it in. 

Except he doesn’t. Maybe he intended to, but Tommy sees him crumple and the quiet sobs that wrack out of his chest, and at that point, Tommy can’t just watch. 

“Baby,” he interjects, reaching up for Evan’s hand. He pulls it to his mouth and kisses the blonde’s fingers before shifting even closer to him on the couch and pulling him in. “What’s happening right now?” 

Evan forces in several deep breaths, which seem to help, because he’s calmer afterwards. Tommy pulls him in and presses his lips to his birthmark as he runs his fingers up and down Evan’s bicep. 

“I’ve had that moment,” Evan finally admits after five long minutes of silence. 

Tommy settles back, not letting go of him, but enough inches back into his own seat that he can see Evan. 

“What moment,” he asks. 

“After I was struck by lightning,” he explains. “When I was in the coma, I had this dream. A-and it was this life where Daniel was still alive, and Maddie never left Doug, and my parents actually cared.” He pauses, takes another breath, his eyes searching the floor. “Back then, I thought I decided to live because of everyone else. Because in the dream, Bobby didn’t live, and Eddie didn’t have custody of Christopher, and my sister wasn’t safe, but my parents cared and for a minute, all of that was really tempting.” 

Tommy hums in understanding. They’ve had enough discussions about both of their parents at this point for him to understand that what Evan’s referring to isn’t as simple as just making a decision, even if it felt that way at the time. 

“B-but there was this moment. I had this out-of-body experience, and I don’t know how I know it, but when they took me off the ventilator, they were concerned about me being able to breathe on my own. But in my head, I was fighting with…something akin to the devil on my shoulder?” He looks up at Tommy then, his brow furrowed at the recollection. “Like I had to decide to live. And obviously I did. But I could’ve chose not to.” 

Tommy nods as he listens to him. He leans forward and kisses the side of Evan’s head again. 

“But you did live,” Tommy reminds him. 

Evan nods, and there are more tears running down his face again, which Tommy doesn’t love. 

“That’s more upsetting?” He asks warily.

Evan shakes his head and then tilts his head back onto Tommy’s arm, looking up at him. 

“You didn’t exist in that dream,” he rasps. “Because I didn’t know you. And if I hadn’t chosen to live then…” His voice trails off, shaking, but it makes sense to Tommy then. He doesn’t need the end of the sentence to understand why Evan’s upset. 

Tommy takes a deep breath and then drops his head down, curling his fingers under Evan’s chin to tilt him in. This kiss is soft, but also quick and urgent. There’s a line that sets into his forehead as he presses his forehead against Evan’s, dignified by the pain of the mere suggestion of a version of a life that Evan Buckley doesn’t exist in. 

“But you did,” he reminds him again. “I’m so glad you did.” 

“Mmm,” Evan hums, lifting a hand and curling a loose fist around the collar of Tommy’s shirt. He looks back up at him, staring into the depths of Tommy’s ocean blue eyes, sapphire pools of adoration staring back at him. 

“I used to have this checklist,” he adds. “When I would wake up in the morning, to make sure I'm alive, and not still stuck in the dream. Make sure night time came, make sure Bobby was alive, make sure Doug is still dead…” 

Tommy nods again. 

“But you said used to,” he states softly. “So you don’t anymore?” 

Evan inhales a deep breath, the tinest of smiles pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“I do actually,” he replies, flatting his hand out against Tommy’s chest. “It’s only one thing now.” 

Tommy’s brow creases, curious. 

“Can I ask what that is,” he murmurs, adjusting his head on his own shoulder so that there’s only half an inch of space between his nose and Evan’s. 

Evan nods. His eyes trail down briefly, and then back up to Tommy’s. 

“Find this chest,” he rasps. “And make sure the heart inside of it still beating.” 

[carlsangel]

EMBARRASSMENT

carl grimes x fem!reader

(negan embarrasses you and carl during the lineup.)

tags: i have no idear but negans in this one and he’s a BITCH

masterlist here!

The Lineup was the worst day of your life. Not only were you practically sobbing for half of it but you were also angry. You were angry, scared, and frustrated.

Before the lineup, you were helping pack up the RV, you were in charge of packing all the medicine and food that Maggie would need for the ride. You’d had a large bag of anything she’d need and you approached the RV and walked up the steps, heading to the bed in the back. You put it on the shelf and turn to leave to be met with Carl.

“Hey.” He puts a jug of water on the floor by the door. “Nervous?” You ask, knowing he’d not gone to Hilltop before and with the risk of the Saviors after the death of Denise, losing tons of people, he was worried. But he refused to show that. “No. Why would I be?” He mumbles, making his way back out of the RV and his tone sort of throws you off.

Before you can think of an answer, Rick instructs Carl to collect guns from the armory, and you decide to follow. You catch up to him and look at his expression, he seems different which is explanatory but you wanted details. “I was just thinking…you’d be worried since…the Saviors? Everything that happened.” You explain. He walks with a blank expression.

“I’m not nervous, I’m not letting it happen again. That’s why you’re not going.” You stop in your tracks and he slows down, looking back at you as if your reaction was unreasonable. “Excuse me?” He turns back around and continues walking. “Don’t just walk away, you can’t just tell me I can’t go.” You try and reason with himself, but he simply doesn’t wanna hear it. He continues walking to the armory.

In spite of that, you went home and started packing. Anything you’d need or anything important for the trip, you didn’t know how long you’d be staying at Hilltop.

When you left the house, you hopped down the stairs, noticing Sasha grabbing from the house’s cabinets. She stops you before you continue out the house. “What was all that about?” She questioned, you assume she and some others had seen what’d gone on with Carl earlier. It sort of threw everyone off, he was never that closed off with you.

You pause before thinking, trying to figure out what’d happened yourself. “I…that’s a good question.” You sort of chuckle embarrassingly, you were thrown off by his demeanor. “I’m sure it’s nothing, I think he’s just…upset about everything.” You continue. Sasha nods. “You’re still going?” She zips up her bag and throws it over her shoulder.

“He’s not stopping me.”

Which he didn’t, he tried his hardest to persuade you but you wouldn’t budge. You wanted to be there in case anything happened, most importantly you wanted to be there for Maggie. It took an entire argument for you to be able to get on the damn RV. “You know they’re out there. I can’t let anything happen to you.” While you understood where he was coming from, it seemed relatively hypocritical.

“You’re being ridiculous, when have we not been able to handle something? If anything happens, we’re getting out alive. I don’t care. I’m going.”

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

Unfortunately, you were in for a rude awakening. Maybe he was right, but you still wanted to be there. Be beside him during everything. You had to be, you had to see it all happen. He believed that as well. Maybe not for you, but he knew he had to see it.

This man, Negan seemed to be a total asshole, the way he had you all lined up for him, his cruel jokes. You had to admit he was a little funny, but now was definitely not the time. He’d been taunting you and the people you called your family for what felt like hours. He threatened you to no end, explaining how your life basically revolved around him now.

Negan paced back and forth, looking between you all. You were angry, you hadn’t cried yet but you were pissed, reasonably so. He was at the other end of the line when he looked in your direction. His sharp gaze made your stomach drop, you knew it was your turn. You look down for a moment as he walked over to you, swallowing hard before looking up at him like his presence was irritating, not terrifying.

He smiles as he approaches, immediately noticing the look in your eye. “Someone’s mad.” He chuckles, looking to the others while gesturing to you with Lucille. Despite your nerves, you were fairly irritated. Your knees felt like they were nailed to the ground, they hurt terribly and it only rubbed off on your attitude towards Negan. “How does a girl like you, get wrapped up with these kinds of people?” You tilt your head at him with a disgusted look. “You’re one to talk. This is my family.” You retort. He jokingly acts shocked at your rebuttal. “Well excuse me! The last time I checked, your people,” he puts Lucille in your face, “…killed a whole lot of my people, completely unwarranted.”

You knew it was bullshit. You knew about their agreement with Hilltop, the sixteen year old boy they killed. But you couldn’t say anything, not now. While Negan spewed bullshit, you looked to Carl for the first time since Negan had noticed you.

He was glaring at him. Something told you this wouldn’t go well, especially for Carl. He was going to say something but you didn’t know what. Negan noticed your attention strayed away from him, god knows he had to be the center of attention all of the time. This prompted him to put Lucille under your chin, directing you to look back at himself. Doing so, the barbed wire sliced the bottom of your chin open, causing you to wince slightly.

“What the hell are you getting out of this?” Carl exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention. You wipe the blood off your chin with your sleeve, staining the shirt you were wearing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you all hot n bothered.” Negan sympathized sarcastically. “Just leave her alone. Harassing her won’t do you any good.” Carl grimaces at Negan and he can’t help but laugh.

“Wow…” Negan smiles at Carl’s efforts to stick up for you, realizing that he could use it to break him. “So, I’m assumin you two are..well you know.” He suggests. You both look up at him with peevish looks. “I see why. You both got somethin in common.”

You look to Carl and he looks to you. You both avert your eyes back to Negan. “You’re both very, very easy to piss off. I imagine you’ve got a healthy relationship.” He taunts.

“I guess I’m just shocked you got a girl with that eye of yours, I bet you haven’t shown her what’s underneath that bandage huh?” Your eyes go wide at his comment. Carl doesn’t seem to react to it in any way, he was too angry. “The game you’re playing, it’s not gonna work.” Carl remarks. “You’re not gonna win.”

Negan kneels to Carl’s level, boring his eyes into his intently. The rage Carl felt gave him the urge to just kill Negan right there. That’d only get everyone else killed. “I guess we’ll find out.” Negan smirks before returning back to towering over the lot of you.

God, the embarrassment.

a/n: hey guys currently writing this very hungry. anyway i have a final tmr for english and im praying it goes well muehehe IVE BEEN STRUGGLING TO FIND THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE but tomorrow is my last day of school so you guys will get me for about two months HAHAH you’re gonna be so sick of me. also, don’t be worried to send requests even if you think they’re bad, half the time they’re really good so keep sendin them!

taglist: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[pellucid-constellations]

Hey!!! I just finished reading song of Achilles and I have been crying for the better part of the last hour while reading, hence in serious need of some Bucky comfort. So how about college or lumberjack Bucky (cuz they’re my favorites) who don’t really understand the whole fuzz over books but still holding his girl while she sobs her chest out out about a book (you can change the book of you want), hot tears down her face, ugly crying yknow?

It’s okay if you don’t want to :)) Have a great day 💕💕💕

Pairing: lumberjack!bucky x reader (can be read separately from undisclosed, but also a little reference to it)

A/n: Okay sooo this was so sweet and I had to write a drabble for it!! All this angst I've been writing needs some comfort! :)

~~~

He hears the crying first. 

It’s a terrible sound that constricts his chest each time it meets his ears. Bucky would like to consider himself partially responsible for your tears becoming a rare occurrence, so when he hears them, he experiences an array of emotions—fear, panic, a twisted sort of heartbreak. 

At the front door of his home, Bucky strains his ears to confirm what he’s already dreading. Because maybe you weren’t crying. Maybe you were sick? That wasn’t much better, but at least it was a more concrete issue. 

When he hears the tissue box and the loud meow from Alpine—the closest thing to concern he’d ever heard from a cat—Bucky doesn’t even take his coat off before he’s barreling into your bedroom. 

You startle, puffy eyes darting up to him as he takes up space in the small room. 

And he’s devastated. You hadn’t looked like that in a long time, all tear-stained cheeks and frazzled hair. Bucky considers the multitude of reasons you could be so upset, but then decides it doesn't matter. Not when you’re looking at him like that. 

“Oh, honey,” he coos. His socks make soft sounds on the carpet as he walks over to you, but the action only sends more tears down your face. Bucky could collapse. “Sweetheart, what happened?” 

You don’t say much at first, opting to bury your face into his chest the second he makes contact with the bed. It’s too warm in here for the amount of clothes he’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t really care. You keep crying—Bucky keeps running his fingers through your hair. 

Each sob that leaves your lips sounds more broken than the last, breaking Bucky down bit by bit. He wants to fix this, make it better, but Bucky has never been good with words. He’d been trying, for you. He will try now. 

“Tell me what happened, sweet girl?” he mumbles into the skin of your temple, lips hesitant to leave your skin. He was always better with physical communication. He was also the best at loving you like this. 

Your breathing gets choppy as you try to calm down. Shallow puffs of air meet the stitching of his sweater, and he rocks you as a way to coax a more steady pattern into your lungs. Even though he was wrought with panic, you were okay. Bucky had you, so you were okay. 

“He—he died, Buck,” you eventually choke out. “He died and then there was no—there was nothing—” your words cut off again as more tears soak his chest. 

“Who?” he stresses, although his tone doesn’t give that away. “Who, honey? Someone you know?” 

“No,” you sob. The sound knocks the air from Bucky’s lungs. 

Taking inventory in his head, that means all of his friends are safe, all of your friends. It means your awful family is alive as well, and while that doesn't matter much to him, at least he knows it isn’t the source of your strife. But the pain in your voice, the way you were limp against him and fighting for air. 

Bucky couldn’t understand. 

“Tell me who. What has you so sad, hm?” he tries, voice dropping into an even gentler tone. 

You dig your fingers into Bucky’s jacket, pulling away after a moment. Bucky reaches for you, trying to chase your figure because he wasn’t done trying to make this better, he needs to make you better. But then you slap something into his lap and he’s confused again. 

“Them,” you all but sob, turning back into the material of his jacket. 

Bucky wraps an arm around your shoulders as he inspects the book on his thighs. He’s still lost, but your crying has morphed into sniffles so he asks, “What was that, sweet girl?” 

He’s packing it on with the endearments, but seeing you like this is brutal. 

“In the book,” you explain. “They were so in love. And then he died. And afterwards—Bucky it was awful.” 

Oh. 

A book. 

This is manageable, to Bucky. You’re not in pain and he can handle this. 

He hauls you closer into his chest. You shuffle until your frame is enclosed by his. Bucky’s size had always been something he found inconvenient until you came into his life. Because after that, he found it was good at making you feel safe. A way to protect you from anything. 

Even… a book? 

Surely a book. 

“Hey, it’s alright, I got you,” he hums.

“Never die,” you whisper, and Bucky's mouth twists uncomfortably. 

“I won’t.” 

[bl00dst41ned]

Hiii. Can you please write angst where Jobe and the reader have a really bad argument so they stop talking to each other for like a week. And they’re both nervous that the other is going to break up with them? Can it end in fluff like where they make up? Thank you.

*.·:·.✦ never ending ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jobe bellingham x female reader

summary: in which a bad argument torments two young love birds

author's note: requested by anon. was way longer than i thought. might get back to posting randomly don’t know yet but I got ideas

word count: 1228

“If you actually cared about me, you would understand how I feel” You spat at Jobe’s face as he rolled his eyes at your words.

“But I can’t control what somebody is about to say before he says it”

You two had been arguing for the last fifteen minutes for what seems to be a stupid reason. For all you remembered, it started with a phone nowhere to be found. Then, somehow you were angry about how he handles his friends.

“He bluntly disrespected me and you just sat there not saying nothing”

“What did you want me to do” He snapped, raising his voice. He never raised his voice, let alone at you.

“Tell him that he was wrong”

“Maybe he wasn’t”

Your mouth slightly open, as his sentence left you speechless. His friend Tony had called you a bitch and there Jobe was, your boyfriend, agreeing with him. This could not be real. It felt like some type of game. Like he had sent her the ultimate punch, knocking her out completely.

You didn’t pronounce a word and just left the house. Luckily, nobody was here to hear you argue and ask any questions. You just grabbed your phone and coat going back to yours.

Your heart tightened with each sobs, your chest aching. It was not the first argument but this one tore your heart apart.

…………..

You checked your phone for the millionth time in an hour. It had been a week since that argument. A week since you have seen Jobe or talked to him. Not a message, not a call, no nothing. There were times when you wanted to. But you were always reminded that you didn’t do anything wrong.

“If you don’t put that phone down” Your best friend snatched it out of your phone putting it on the table, faced down. “I told you already about that”

“But I miss him”

“But he needs to understand” She said with a ‘duh’ face, as you looked away not wanting to face her and the truth. “If you let this one slide, he won’t see the issue”

You could feel your eyes water at the thought of him. Your mind roamed all day wondering how he felt. Your relationship was on a dark path, eating you alive. Eventually, the tears that threatened to fall, ran down your cheeks.

“I just want to speak to him, know how he feels” Each word brought more tears to your eyes. “Maybe he doesn’t even feel anything.”

“Give yourselves time away, you’ll be alright”

“But what if we don’t. Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe we’ve come to the end of us-”

“Don’t. Even. Dare. Saying that.” Your best friend cut you off “That little argument will not break your relationship. Not on my watch”

“Now wipe your tears and let’s get back to this homework, okay?”

You nodded your head, doing as told, taking a deep breath before going back to your work. Your best friend grabbed her phone, tapping her keyboard quickly before concentrating.

Jobe

apologize to my best friend or 

you’ll pay for each tear on her face

On the other hand…

Jobe sat in his friend’s room sitting on the bed.

“JOBE!” The loud voice of his friend made him jump, exiting out of his thoughts. “Are you playing with us?”

He decided to spend the day with some friends, playing video games and getting his mind off. But the message he just received from your best friend had brought him back to your argument. Jobe regretted everything he had said to you. The image of your glossy eyes staring at him after his harsh words had been glued in his mind for the entire week.

“Stop thinking about (Y/N) for once, please,”Tony sighed loudly, his annoyance clearly audible.

A silence followed as they all looked at each other awkwardly.

“Tony, leave him alone for once” Another friend stepped in, trying to change the subject. “He’s not in the mood”

“But he just ruins the vibe every time, looking all depressed”

“Well, sorry I’m scared (Y/N) might break up with me”

Tony rolled his eyes at the mention of your name.

“Bro, what’s your problem with my girl?”

Jobe had grown tired of the slight shades Tony would throw around about you. He did not see the real problem but the time he was apart from you, he spent it with his group, noticing Tony’s behaviour every time you were mentioned.

“Stop acting like she’s not the problem”

“But she’s not” 

“Anyway, just play the game” Tony tried to give him the controller before letting go, realizing he would not take it.

“No, bro, let’s settle the issue now. What has she done to you? Cause if we are in this situation it’s mostly your fault”

“What is she crying about now?”

“You hate her for no reason and disrespect her in front of her face and think she’ll be alright”

“Nah, bro, she’s getting in your head too much” Tony shook his head looking away. “This bitch-”

Tony didn’t even have time to finish his sentence that Jobe had got up, aggressively heading to Tony. With all he had said about you, he was definitely not his friend anymore.

Their friends instantly got up to keep them away from one another. Tony, outraged by Jobe’s behaviour which he found over the top, decided to leave them, insulting Jobe on his way out.

“I should go too”

“You sure ?”

“Yeah, I’ll just go home”

He grabbed his phone and got out of the house, heading to your house.

(Y/N) 🤍

I’m coming in thirty mins

seen

……………

Jobe knocked on your room door, entering once you allowed it.  He smiled at your sight with his hoodie on you, enveloping your body. He assumed you wouldn’t want him to touch you so he went to sit on your bed. You couldn’t wait any longer and just went to get into his arms.

“I missed you”

“I missed you too, I’m sorry for what I’ve said to you” He spoke while giving you multiple forehead kisses.

“It’s oka- no it’s not” He cut you off as you tried to brush it off as if it did not matter. But he could not let what he had done just be forgotten.

“I disrespected you for no reason and dismissed your feelings. I didn’t try to actually see the situation from your point of vi- matter of fact it was just overly wrong and anybody could say it. For some reason, I approached the situation very dumbly and not as your boyfriend should. I’m deeply sorry, babe”

You could only listen, still glued to his body. He had realised that he was wrong

“I’m sorry too for screaming at you”

“Jobe” You spoke lowly while you let him go“Let’s not let that happen again. I don’t want to feel like we’re on the verge of breaking up after every argument"

“I know, I’ll be better, I promise”

“It’s not real until we lock pinkies” You held your pinky up to him.

He smiled at you, locking his pinky with yours before kissing them so you knew it was genuine.

“This does not change how I feel for you” You reassured, already knowing it had been on his mind. “Remember that”

like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it)

masterlist for more

[watercloud7]

BATFAM PROMPT:

Feral Talon Dad Bruce Wayne AU

The bat kids are raised by a Cryptid zombie horror murder man who loves them very very much❤️

Bruce is sent to kill the Graysons by the court of Owls and kidnap their child to make him a Talon.

Dick witnesses the whole thing but because he’s so young in this AU like basically a toddler he’s terrified and when Bruce picks him up to take him back to the Owls Dick snuggles into him and sobs and screeches and he’s angry and confused and scared and tiny but This massive murder monster who killed his parents is the only comfort he has.

Dick is alone and he has no one. No one is coming to save him, no one is coming for him , his mama and daddy are gone and the only thing left is …. Whatever the hell this cryptid horror zombie is.

So Dick, takes his comfort where he can, which today comes in form of zombi does Bruce Wayne and that’s what it takes i guess.

Bruce breaks out of conditioning and vanishes into thin air with the kid. Only he doesn’t go back to the court.

Maybe this Bruce takes baby Grayson away and raises him as a feral murder baby.

They live secluded and away from anyone and anything. Maybe the mountains in Nanda parbat. They’re so discreet and good the league of assassins doesn’t even know their mountains are technically compromised.

Bruce raises Dick in complete secrecy. Literally like a wild child, Bruce occasionally travels to the town over to bring back toys and books and whatever he finds that he thinks would make Dick happy.

Dick sees and longs for peoples and connections and more. He loves Bruce but Bruce is basically like Ariel’s dad WORSE he’s basically mother gothel, he’s seen so many horrors and he’s so paranoid. He just wants his son to stay alive and away from any harm.

keeping Dixk locked away and safe from the Owls that mean him horrific torture and agony. Safe from the world, Safe with Daddy😭❤️.

SIGN LANGUAGE ENTHUSIAST BATFAM HEADCANON.

Bruce’s voice is … zombified and uncomfortable to use, so he teaches himself sign language and then teaches Dick. They invent their own dialect. Just for them😭

Dick gets big enough to want to see the world, to understand what happened, to find himself outside of his adopted eldritch Dad, and MAYBE! Make a damn friend like he’s been seeing in those picture books Bruce brings for him every week.

He “runs away” in a fit of teenage rebellion or whatever you wanna call it, after Dick gets caught sneaking into a village a couple kilometres from their Cosy little cave they like to call home.

Bruce is furious and terrified and he’s everything a scared father is after finding your kid missing from their room when they were supposed to be home hours ago.

Dick explodes in frustration and tears and off he goes.

He goes back to the beginning. To Gotham.

A half deadly Half sunshine all Feral Dick Grayson is roaming the world all alone when he stumbles across a considerably less feral

Less deadly Jason Todd.

Jay is an orphan and this weirdly affectionate clueless terror of a guy just imprinted on him

and won’t leave him alone.

I mean Scary bird boy is a stage 5 dumbass, zero bark, Zero bite 100% cuddles kinda guy.

(Seriously this dude has no concept of personal space and it’s bordering on infuriating) but Jason is like 99.9% sure he just saw him down crime alley snapping the resident rapists necks.

The men that call girls avoided and the police did isn’t care to arrest, so clearly bird boy is not a bad guy but he’s definitely not Harmless either.

Jason likes his style though.

Maybe the court of owls tries going after Jason or tries to kidnap Dick again.

Bruce finds them in the nick of time and slaughters every single one of the Owls once and for all.

Shenanigans ensue and they all bond.

Love love love. Bruce literally adopts him the minute he sees him.

Bruce and Dick teach Jay sign language.

Jason teaches Bruce and Dick how to read.

Jason loves his feral dad and brother.

MAYBE! Tim parents were Owls.

The rich wealthy elites of Gotham succumb to their nefarious ways in an ironic and cathartic end, survived by their heir Timothy Jackson Drake. Who up until now they had been grooming into becoming the next Owl man, he’s been trained to kill and torture and every other bad guy skills he needs to be their evil little successor.🫡

Bruce gets rid of them though.

WOMP WOMP.

Maybe after killing Timmy’s parents Bruce is just like…

Bruce: awwwwww this reminds me of how Dick’s surprise adoption went!

Tim:…. Bro you can’t just murder my parents and call this a surprise adoption.

Bruce: we can call this a kidnapping if you wanna keep it 💯 but either way you’re coming home with me

Tim: …. I ain’t even like em like that fr. Let me just pack a bag real quick.

The Drakes parenting was abhorrent so after Bruce kidnaps him ,Tim is viciously violent at first but after Bruce shows Tim patience and kindness.

Tim develops Stockholm syndrome like instantly and just latches onto Bruce like it’s the first instance of true love and care he’s ever felt.

Jason is actually the most normal and well

adjusted out of his Psychotic family. Ironically he’s the only one out of all of them that hasn’t killed someone lol.

Tim latches on violently to Dick & Jason, it’s adorable and scary and very creepy in a wholesome way. Tim absorbs any kind of attention like a sponge and has separation anxiety. He likes to watch them sleep and follow them every where they go like a puppy, only he does it in the shadows and takes candid pictures of them he collects religiously.

He’s a complete weirdo.

Dick finds him Absolutely delightful, he wants to gobble him all up and cuddle at every opportunity, he enables all Of his bad habits and Jason does his best to damage control and encourage Tim to dabble in more healthy hobbies and ways of showing affection but ultimately Dick Grayson remains undefeated as a bad influence.

Dick is a good big brother, so obviously he’s gotta participate in his baby brothers love language so Timmy can feel seen and appreciated.

So now Jason has TWO stalkers shadowing him everywhere he goes. 3 when Bruce is feeling sentimental.

Jason tolerates his families psychotic and feral behaviour because he loves them more then life itself and if anyone else said anything like that about them he’d snap their necks.

Jason shows his affection in normal ways like beating up peoples trying to start a fight with his brothers and cooking for them because they can’t cook to save their lives.

Sometimes Jason will wonder on how exactly Dixk survived all those years in that cave with an immortal Bruce who doesn’t need to eat.

(Bruce would catch wild animals and Dixk

Would eat the meat raw, sometimes he’d hold his blood soaked hand full of flesh out wanting to share with dad, but Bruce would just drag Dick closer to him and nudge him to keep eating his dinner)

Jason feels bad and bakes him sugary monstrosities included but not limited too:

Oreo chocolate chip maple soaked marshmallow pancakes.

Sour candy lucky charm jam filled donuts.

Triple Chocolate Nutella and peanut butter Reese cookies.

Jason is appropriately horrified at what he’s created every time.

But Dick tasted sugar for the first time and doesn’t know how to act.

The kids are living their best lives but Bruce Is SPIRALLING.

The more kids Bruce acquires the more stressed he gets.

There’s a really angsty scene where Bruce breaks down holding onto his kids and crying. He’s not a monster, he just wants these kids to be safe. He doesn’t wanna kill anymore, he doesn’t wanna hurt things anymore.

He wants to go home with his babies.

He wants to take all of them back to their busted creepy cave in nanda parbat.

But Dickie Isn’t a baby anymore, he wants his family close but he also wants MORE, he wants to be around people he wants to discover the world. Jason was born and raised in Gotham and Bruce can’t in good conscience rip his life apart like that.

And then there’s Timmy. Honestly the Tim is this AU is an unhinged obsessive gremlin, he just goes wherever his family wants to go, nothing else really matters to him but them.

And so Bruce decides to stay in Gotham and hides them all in an abandoned building. It’s kind of like a nest.

Bruce stashes his babies in a Makeshift safe house until he can figure out a way to make all this work.

Maybe Alfred finds their weird little makeshift Family when he stumbles into their safe house and manages not to get immediately killed.

Alfred is VERY worried about the state in which these kids are living.

He vows to lure them and their Dad to a safer better living arrangement.

Maybe Bruce gets severely hurt and the kids kidnap Alfred to patch Bruce up.

Alfred is appropriately horrified at the undead creature growling and hissing while he treats their mortally terminal wounds, but keeps as much composure as an ex-military general would about it.

Bruce like totally imprints on Alfred And like a cat, he drags each and every one of his kids into Alfred life for him to babysit and look after while Bruce goes out to do whatever zombie dads do.

Alfred has no choice in the matter and has effectively acquired spontaneous grandkids and a son.

Bruce: daddy?

Alfred: …. Boy do I look like-⁉️

They move in with Alfred basically over night.

Damian is either created Through the league of assassins who stole the courts strongest talon’s DNA (Bruce’s DNA) to recreate it. Or any other way I guess I donno? Maybe Talia and Bruce got jiggy with It at one point when they were in those mountains. PFFFF LOL GIVE ME IDEAS.

Gonna run with the first idea ?

Damian is created in a lab, Maybe the Drakes latest project was too recreate their greatest success which had been Talon!Bruce.

Tim revisits his parents lab randomly and discovers this. An abandoned lab and abandoned cryogenic chamber containing a baby.

Tim grabs the kids and runs back home.

Jason is exasperated and Alfred panics a bit cause…. Huh?!?!

Jason: Seriously guys? We can’t afford Another surprise adoption right now.

Alfred: do you mean a “kidnapping”

Jason: don’t be mean! It’s their love language 😡

Alfred: wonderful… is it safe to assume I’ll be raising yet another grandchild?

Jason: that’s the spirit, anyway we gotta find a much bigger apartment than this, it’s getting crowded.

Alfred: Ah, my sincerest apologies for the inconvenience caused by my oversight. It seems I should have anticipated my being abducted by a feral street urchin and his entourage of lethal pets. Quite the oversight on my part, I’ll begin apartment hunting right away sir.

Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian: *living their best life while Alfred tries to wrangle them out of shenanigans*

Anyways They take Damian in and he’s just as feral and eldritch horror as his daddy. He’s got his big brother’s trademark behaviours too!

Tim’s severely anti social mess , Dick’s creepy uncanny valley nature and Jason’s love for baking!

It’s so sweet how much he takes after his sibling and Bruce couldn’t be more proud of his litter of horror.

Alfred is honestly such a trooper through all this, salute the GOAT.

I wrote this on a whim! If y’all wanna hear more about this AU, if you want it written, let me know!

[cha-melodius]

💛 and firstprince please xx

💛 reunion kiss / relief (honestly, no comment on the length. anyway there's no relief kiss like an 'I thought you were dead' relief kiss. enjoy. read all the kiss ficlets)

Henry is watching from his sniper’s nest in an apartment down the street when the office building collapses.

He can’t believe what he’s seeing at first. It’s just not possible—they had no intel that there were explosives involved, no reason to think that there’d be any danger of such a thing. It should have been an easy in and out, especially for Alex. He’s a master at infiltration, at getting places where he shouldn’t without anyone even knowing he’s been there. Henry’s just his backup on this op, there because he can shoot a fly off a balloon at a hundred yards, because they needed to make sure one particular guy didn’t show up while Alex was inside.

Which he is. Alex went in ten minutes ago, and the building collapsed, and Henry doesn’t think before he’s flying down the stairs as fast as possible. He runs at full tilt toward the disaster even though he’s blocks away, dodging everyone who’s running in the opposite direction. There might be screaming but he doesn’t hear it over the blood pounding in his own ears, over his ragged breathing as his lungs scream for oxygen. He runs harder than he’s ever run in his life, and it probably won’t even matter because if Alex is was on the fifth floor, like he was supposed to be, there’s very little chance he’d be able to survive.

But it’s Alex. He’s practically unkillable. He can’t be dead. After everything they’ve been through together, Henry won’t let him.

The area around the building is full of dust and smoke, and there’s debris falling from the unstable structure, but Henry pushes through even though it burns his throat and stings his eyes. It doesn’t matter that the building is still in the process of falling down, he has to find a way in, he has to—

“Henry, stop!” someone yells, and Henry whirls to see a mirage of Alex Claremont-Diaz stumbling around the corner. He’s covered in dirt and there’s blood flowing down the side of his face from his scalp, but he’s there and he’s alive, and Henry’s legs nearly go out from under him. They might have, except Alex is there and alive and he catches Henry around the waist before he can fall.

Henry’s hands go up to his face, thumbs smearing the dust and blood from his cheeks, and before he knows what he’s doing, he pulls Alex in and crushes their mouths together in a desperate kiss.

Which is— not what they are. No matter how much Henry might love him, they’re partners and colleagues and friends, but they’re not that, and now he’s gone and fucking ruined everything.

Alex makes a little surprised sound, low in his throat, but his arms tighten around Henry’s waist before Henry can pull away and fling himself into the burning wreckage in despair, and then he’s kissing Henry back with just as much desperation in his movements. There’s quite literally chaos everywhere around them, but all Henry knows is the slide of Alex’s lips against his and the copper tang of blood on his tongue.

Alex keeps breaking away, presumably to breathe even though that’s currently the last thing on Henry’s priority list, and it’s only minutes later that Henry hears the murmur of his voice in the gaps, an urgent litany of, “It’s ok, baby, I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m here.”

Out of everything, that’s what breaks him. Something shatters in his chest and he sobs in relief, burying his face in Alex’s neck as Alex holds him in a hug so tight it’s painful. Henry doesn’t care.

Alex is here, and he’s ok. And maybe everything has changed between them, but it’s ok. They’re going to be ok.

[piftamere]

eighteen - the truth (wc : 943)

the paintbrush in her hand is dry, the bristles stiff. her knuckles are white as she grips it tighter, the wooden handle biting into her palm. she stares at the unfinished painting in front of her, the half-formed face blurring in her vision.

should she call him? maybe hinata hasn’t told him yet, maybe it’s not too late, maybe she can still save this-

the door slams open, the violent crack echoing through the studio. her head whips toward the sound, heart plummeting. atsumu’s standing in the doorway, his chest heaving, his face flushed and damp strands of blond hair sticking to his forehead. he is still in his running clothes, loose shorts and a tank top slightly darkened with sweat. his expression steals the breath from her lungs.

his brows are furrowed, his jaw is clenched, but his eyes… his eyes give him away. they’re wide, glassy, distressed, like he’s barely holding it together, like he already knows.

the paintbrush slips from her hand, landing with a soft thud against the floorboards.

“is it true?” his voice cracks, he’s out of breath, his hands tremble at his sides as he takes a hesitant step closer.

“what are you-”

“is it?” he cuts her off, his voice louder, more demanding.

she opens her mouth but all she can do is nod, the words too painful to say, barely able to meet his gaze as her vision is blurred by tears.

he stumbles back, as if the silent confirmation physically strikes him. his face twists in pain, just for a second, so raw it makes her feel like the worst person alive. his eyes shine, but then the sadness hardens, warping into anger.

”did it mean nothing to you?” his voice wavers, in disbelief. ”you were just fucking with my head this whole time?”

her stomach knots painfully. “no i-”

he shakes his head, raising his voice. "i can't believe i defended you. when they said you were using me-" the words get caught, he rubs a hand down his face.

her throat closes, guilt pressing heavy and unforgiving on her chest. she’s fidgeting with her hands, picking at the skin around her nails.

“i can’t believe i let myself fall behind, in practice, in school, 'cause i was worried about you.” he lets out a broken sound, between a laugh and a sob. his voice drops to a whisper. "i'm such a fucking idiot"

a tear escapes his eyes, rolling down his cheek before he can stop it. and another. his shoulders tremble. she feels her heart shatter, watching this man she despised, villainized for so long, broken because of her.

she steps closer, warily, barely able to think clearly with the ache in her chest. “please, let me explain.”

he steps back, like her proximity burns. like she steals the air surrounding them, suffocating him. “explain??” his voice is sharp, “that you hate me? that you used me?”

“i don’t hate you-” she shakes her head, voice low. but her words mean nothing to him in this moment.

“you made me feel so shitty about what i said about you. but what you did-” his breath hitches, “what you did is so much worse.” he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, breath uneven. he doesn’t bother wiping his tears. “fuck yn. you made me love you.” he whispers, vulnerable in a way she'd never seen him before.

the declaration sends a chill down her spine, and it all comes crashing down on her. how much she hurt him, how deeply he cares. how much she cares too. she approaches, careful, her heart pounding. “atsumu please let me-”

“no!” he snaps, his hands shoot up, his tear-streaked face twisting in both rage and heartbreak. she flinches, stumbling back, but he doesn’t notice.

“you string me along. you act like you like me one minute, then you ignore me, then you sleep with me, here, in this room, just to get back at your ex? an ex you didn’t even like!?”

the words hit like a punch, brutal, unforgiving, and so painfully true that they steal the air from her lungs. her ears start buzzing. he’s yelling now, his voice raw as it breaks under the weight of his anger, under the realization that she’s nothing like the person he thought he loved.

he steps closer, and she feels it. how his anger makes him appear taller, overwhelming, towering over her as if his very presence presses down on her.

“how cruel and heartless are you?” his eyes lock onto hers. his hands clench at his sides, trembling, torn between the need to put as much distance between them as possible and this lingering, sickening desire to reach out to her.

“who does that to someone?”

she stares back at him, speechless. because he’s right. because every awful thing he’s saying is the truth, she deserves it.

a bitter, monstrous person with a blackened and hollowed out heart. that’s who she is. maybe it’s time for her to accept it.

the buzzing in her ears grows louder, drowning out the words as he continues. her breaths are shallow, she feels sick. she doesn’t even realize he’s stopped talking as he stares at her, waiting. for what? an apology? something to prove she cared about him at least a little?

but she can’t give him that. she doesn’t know how.

his shoulders sag, the fury in his eyes finally dimming. he sighs, and mumbles something so soft she barely hears it, more to himself than to her. "i really believed you."

without another word, he turns away and leaves her there, alone.

fun facts

kiyoko told kags, yachi and noya about what happened when yn and atsumu first met

they were so shocked and suddenly a lot of things made sense

atsumu saw yn's tweet and guessed she was at her studio, since he was out on a run he ran there without thinking

author's note

yn didn't even say sorry lol

idk if i like how it ends but i give up

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @kr1nqu @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @thechaosoflonging @littlemiyastars @seikamuzu @nymphsdomain @r4veeen @shesabeeler @meekydeeks @justanotherweeb666 @bxbygurlisa @lvtilzs @fi-chanwrites @hanniesdegree @brilliantshoyo

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[kuro-is-doodlin]

You're... Still... Alive

[Spoiler for in stars and time, up to the end of act 4]

[CW for exhaustion, sui, self harm and self neglect]

This is the continuation of my previous lore post ;)

You wake up.. in a bed?.. oh, so this is the same loop. How weird, to be back at the clocktower. You barely ever go there now. You either slip on that awful banana peel, or just… stab. You couldn’t get yourself to use your dagger in the village before, but now, it doesn’t matter.

Sometimes, your hands shake again, holding your dagger. You see the light hit it, the metal shining, and your face… And you realize just how far down you fell.

Still, you do it, you always do it. Can’t waste time.

You suddenly realize something is heavy on you. You open your eye and try to focus your vision on whatever is crushing your side right now.

It’s Bonnie, they’re on the bed, too, curled against you. Their eyes are closed, but a little darker and swollen.

You blink.

With what’s left of your strength, you raise your hand, and slowly rest it on their hair, brushing them between your fingers. A hand joins in, touching yours ever so slightly. You’re too tired to flinch, but your eye turns to.. Isabeau.. He’s looking at Bonnie, but quickly focus on you, giving you a smile. Not one of those explosive smiles you used to see before, no, this one is.. Sad. So incredibly sad.

With a Soft, but deep voice, he asks.

“How are you feeling, Sif? Do you need me to move Bonbon?”

You blink… And shake your head a little. It’s fine, you can barely feel a thing anyway.

“Okay..”

He sighs. Is he upset at you? For being so useless before the end of the world happens? Maybe.. Maybe he is… You don’t know.. What exactly their personalities are anymore. Isa is… Buff, yeah, you can see that, idiot. But he’s… He is….

He is petting your hair now, looking at you, into your eye.. To make sure you’re comfortable.

That’s right.. He’s kind.. So kind, caring, always here for you. His eyes.. so full of life, of.. love.. How could you even forget that?..

He never told you but.. You know.

You know, oh so well, why he’s always looking at you that way. You.. love that feeling.

“Alright, Siffrin, can you tell us what’s happening to you, please? You look like you’ve just spent a year stuck in a cave.”

It’s Odile.. She’s in your blind spot, you can’t see her. But you know her voice. That’s one thing you think you can remember.

“Three… actually..”

You cough, it’s hard to speak when you don’t do that anymore.

Ah, and here they are, looking at you like you just said the most shocking thing ever. But you don’t want to explain, you can’t explain, you’re tired. “Siffrin…”

You hear Mira, she must be next to Odile, she sounds concerned. Bonnie.. Bonbon is sobbing, they try to make it so you can’t hear them, but you know. You hear. You... feel. It’s warm…

Plic..

Ploc..

On the sheets you’re tucked into.

“There is.. A book.. It’s hidden in my cloak..”

You try your best to be clear, you can feel them getting closer to hear you. Wow, you voice must be sooo fucked up right now.

“Please, don’t wake me up.. You can.. read it.. But please.. Let me rest.”

You see a nod from Isa, hear a faint “hn”. That’s enough for you to close your eye again, as you’re dragged down to sleep once more.

[starstruckkittensweets]

"Promise Me" | Gojo x Reader

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Words: 2.3k

A/N: no one talk to me, this is my way of coping with the latest chapter. This week is not a fun one for us Gojo lovers. Also this scenario has probably been written a thousand times at this point (thanks a lot Gege) but here's my two cents on the matter (go figure, my first official Gojo post and he's fuckin dead)

Warnings: JJK 236 SPOILERS, mentions of fem!reader, nightmares, brief mentions of violence/gore, pet names (baby, sweets, pretty girl), very self-indulgent and I apologize for that

Nightmares are a common occurrence in your line of work; you knew that even before you agreed to take the job. Usually you can stand them when they hit. Staring into the shadows of your bedroom, wide eyes raking over every little thing inside, too scared to even move a muscle. Knowing that, once you do, the illusion will vanish. The fear will go away, bit by bit, until you feel comfortable enough to fall back asleep.

Till the next morning, when you can’t even remember what you were so afraid of.

But this time is different. Your body isn’t frozen at all; you don’t snuggle deeper into the blankets, praying that they’ll be enough to protect you from whatever creatures lurk in the night. In fact they’re suffocating—but even when you throw them off you’re still heaving like a madman. Cold sweat clamming up your skin. Hands trembling at your sides. Eyes nearly bursting from your skull when you realize the other side of the bed is empty.

Empty, empty—where is he? Where did he go?

Was your dream not actually a dream after all?

You’re shaking so hard when you force your way out of bed. Nearly toppling over your own two feet as you stumble out of the bedroom. The door’s cracked open, but there aren’t any lights on, where is he, where the fuck is he?!

Another step, round the corner, and suddenly you smack face first into something hard. A soft oof reaches your ears, and through the darkness and the veil of your tears, you can barely make out the two blue lights glowing at you from above.

“Whoa, careful! Sorry about that, almost didn’t see you there. What’re you doing up so late, baby?”

Your eyes are still blurry, no matter how many times you blink. But you can still see him, his hair messy from sleep, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants. He offers a lazy smile, but it drops almost instantly when he sees the tears spilling down your burning cheeks.

“…Hey, what’s wrong?”

Maybe it’s the tender tone of his voice, the soft way he speaks those three simple words. Or maybe it’s the fact you can see his eyes dim ever so slightly, signaling he’s turned off his technique for the moment. Or maybe it’s just knowing that he’s here, still alive and breathing and in one fucking piece, that makes you lose control. (Not that you had very much to begin with, but still.)

He visibly jolts at the shrill wail that rips from your throat, his whole body rigid as you throw yourself against his chest. Tiny arms wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his muscular back. Almost as though you’re scared he’ll disappear, anchoring him to you with every bit of strength you have.

What does he do? You’re obviously in distress, but why? He’d just left to get a glass of water, he’d been gone for less than five minutes! And now you’re blubbering like a child into his bare chest, sobbing so loudly he’s surprised none of your neighbors have come banging on your door.

“Baby, come on,” he tries, but the pet name only seems to make you cry harder. He winces before taking hold of both your shoulders. He doesn’t bother trying to pry you away; no need to make you even more upset. “You gotta tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

Damn it, everything he’s saying is just making it worse. He hates seeing you cry like this. So tiny and frail, curling into his chest, incoherent words and noises spilling from your lips. You won’t answer him or let go of his body, no matter how many times he tries to convince you.

Does he just ride it out and let you finish? What if you pass out? Will you still remember any of this by the time you wake up tomorrow? Was it something he said earlier that made you this upset? He wracks his brain, trying to see if any of his earlier teasing struck a nerve within you. He doesn’t recall saying anything that could prompt this kind of reaction out of you…

Then again, what could? You’re his girl, his other half (as he’s quick to remind you and everyone else within earshot). Strong but soft, a capable sorcerer climbing the ranks with ease. You have an unshakeable character, sticking true to your values and morals no matter what. It’s one of the reasons why he fell in love with you in the first place. Not just anything could resort you to a crying, trembling mess in his arms.

He sucks in a deep breath and tries again. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I promise I’ll make it all better, I swear!”

And he’s just about to bribe you with some of the sweets he’s stashed away in the kitchen when you lift your head from his chest. Cheeks hot and tearstained, and yet you’re still so beautiful.

“S-sorry,” you barely manage to choke out. Your throat’s practically on fire, and you can already feel a monster of a headache coming on. “I…I had…”

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wipes your tears away with his thumb, waiting patiently for you to finish.

“…I had a bad dream…”

It sounds so fucking childish when you say it out loud. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut, gone back to bed once you saw he was okay. What do you expect he’ll do about it, huh? Not like he can erase your bad memories, no matter how strong he might be.

But that hole in your chest is still there, even after all that crying—

And you can’t help it anymore. You press your palms to your face, desperately trying to rid your fact of all those tears. Wanting to save at least some of your dignity before the night’s over.

A pair of warm hands close over your wrists, his touch surprisingly gentle as he pulls your hands away. Exposing your teary, blubbering face to those beautiful blue eyes. The mere thought makes you want to cry all over again.

“C’mon now, you’re too pretty to cry like that.” The corner of his mouth is quirked up in a smile, his messy hair hanging over his eyes as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. He catches another tear on his thumb, making sure to wipe it away before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I don’t like seeing you all upset like that.”

“B-but”—oh fuck, here you go again—“you were…you were dead!”

You can still remember everything so clearly. The blood trickling from his mouth. The glazed look in those dull eyes. How fucking fast it all seemed to happen. One moment he was fine, breathing and smiling as usual, and the next he was staring up at the sky. You didn’t even hear his body drop to the ground.

So much blood, it’s not supposed to be out of your body like that, why couldn’t I save you, why couldn’t—

“I’m sorry!” you blurt out, even as he takes you in his arms and pulls you against his chest. “I wasn’t enough to save you! You were dead and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!”

You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, but for whatever reason, talking about this seems to help. Your chest feels a bit lighter than it did before, even if your heart’s as heavy as a stone.

“You’re not supposed to die! And I know that’s stupid of me to say, everyone dies at some point, but you always say you’re the strongest! No one can hurt you, even if they tried! So why—”

Your voice catches in your throat, tears still streaming down your face. He still holds you close, one arm around your waist, his other hand resting on the back of your head.

“…Why did you leave me? You said you’d never leave me, no matter what! But you did—and I let it happen—I’m so fucking sorry, Satoru, I just—”

You’re running out of steam, you can feel it in your bones. Too exhausted to cry anymore, probably too burnt out to even walk back to your room. But before you can even try he’s lifting your face in his hands, tracing your swollen lips with his thumb.

Smirking down at you like there’s nothing wrong in the world.

“Why are you sorry, sweets? If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Sorry that dream version of me was such a cheap imitation.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Like I’d let myself get killed like that.”

“S-Satoru, I’m serious!”

“And so am I.” And you can see it in his face—the way his eyes practically burn into yours, his mouth set in a tight line, his jaw clenched even when he forces out the words. “I said I’d never leave you, right?”

You sniffle out, “Y-yeah…”

“And I meant it. So no matter how many bad dreams you might have of me,” he curls his hands around your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly, securing your body against his chest, “just know that they’re dreams. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, he begins to carry you back to your room. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying their way into his soft white hair. You’ll never get over how strong he is, how amazing he is—and how of all the people in the world, he chose to share the rest of his life with you.

Not strong enough to save himself from dying.

Your throat fills with bile at the thought, even as he settles you back down against the mattress. Back in the place where your nightmare occurred, where you saw his body and all that blood—

“Don’t leave me!”                                      

“Baby, I wasn’t even planning on it.” Damn, this nightmare really messed with your head, huh? “I’m staying right here with you, alright?”

You won’t disappear on me again? You won’t leave me alone like you did in that dream, right?

He seems to see right through you, given the soft expressing in those dazzling blue eyes. “I promise, I won’t leave your side. Not tonight, not ever.”

It takes a few moments for the two of you to get situated in bed; Satoru ends up having to do most of the work, since your arms and legs are still trembling uncontrollably. But the second the blankets are back around you, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. Long legs tangling with yours, his breath warm against the crown of your head.

Lips soft as they press a thousand kisses to your forehead.

“I don’t know what kind of curse you dreamt of, but if I ever came across something like it one of these days…” He leans down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “…I’d win, hands down.”

“You’d better.” Your head’s pounding something fierce, every bone in your body screaming for some proper rest. And it starts to feel normal, being wrapped up in Satoru’s arms. “…Otherwise, I’d have to kick your ass.”

He lets out a laugh before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. His long eyelashes tickle your skin, his lips sweet and warm when they finally find your own.

“I’m sure you would. Although, I’d never let that happen; I’ll make sure to win every single fight, I swear! Don’t wanna make my pretty girl worry about me.”

But you’re always going to worry about him. It’s in your blood, comes with the territory of keeping this relationship alive. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe he is strong enough to never have to worry about himself in a fight. But there’s always going to be that part of you that wonders if he’s going to make it home tonight.

You tilt your head, eager to taste his lips again. Like your life depends on it, and the thought makes him smirk.

“Aww, can’t get enough of me, sweets?”

“…Shut up.”

But he knows he’s right. And you know he’s right. Doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud, though.

“You know I meant it, right?” Suddenly he’s holding your face again, brushing his nose against your own. His voice strangely soft as he leans in close, warm breath ghosting over your face. “’M not leaving you. Never, ever, ever!”

That gets a smile out of you. Weak and pitiful, but a smile nonetheless. At least he’s earnest. At the end of the day, he means well when it comes to you.

“I know you won’t. …So thank you.” You return his hug, sneaking your hand between your bodies and pressing it against his chest. Your throat growing tight when you feel the familiar b-bmp of his heart against your trembling palm. “Thank you for staying with me.”

There’s that tiny voice in the back of your head, urging you not to listen to such pointless promises. Knowing that deep down, neither of you can stop death when it comes knocking at your door. No matter how much power he possesses, even Satoru Gojo can’t resist death’s clutches when they finally sink their claws into him.

But there’s time for you to deal with all of that in the future. Right here, right now, he’s safe and sound in your arms. Messy white hair tickling your neck as he nibbles on the skin of your earlobe. Making you giggle as he brushes the rest of your tears away.

And thanking whatever deity may be listening above that you get to spend just one more night with him, wrapped up in his arms with his lips against your own.

[carefulfears]

literally thinking about how mulder is the softest man. and he loves beautifully. he's so focused on his quest because of how much he loves samantha, and his parents. he tries to hope, desperately, that samantha is alive & he'll find her even though he knows how unlikely it is. and without scully, it would have taken him much longer to face it. no one ever looked into the darkness with him or loved samantha with him or believed in him so much they always followed him & stayed present with him in those really difficult moments he couldn't get away from the grief. and everything scully does for him, he returns. he responds to how she cares, and her boundaries. and they talk but they don't really talk, so he toes the line. he's always checking in with her.

the x-files is about love because everything mulder does is through love does everybody get it!! god, it’s just so major to me, that he’s this iconic sci-fi hero who’s just 100% grounded in kindness and generosity. there’s nothing hiding around the corner. he’s not the bad boy in the basement, he’s not the maverick with a secret heart of gold, he’s just fucking nice. he cares about people. he sees people. he wants to help. he loves his sister. loves his shitty parents. loves his evil ex-partners and ex-wife. loves his friend. there’s always something deeper in mulder, but it’s always just pain. he’s not hiding anything away. he refuses to let go of anything, but never wants anyone to fall into the same trap, his or their own. he tells traumatized women who’ve been abused and imprisoned that he needs their help, that they’re capable of contributing, that he wants to know what they think. while every other cop tries to lock them up. he feels every loss, carries every ghost, never stops trying.

i just watched irresistible again, and god. the way that he pulls scully aside and tells her, it’s okay to be affected. it’s normal. “i’ve seen agents with 20 years fall apart on cases like this.” he doesn’t say that it’s because she’s a woman (like the cop in 2shy does) or because she’s young or because she’s traumatized. he never brings up her recent abduction. he just tells her that it’s okay to need space, that she can talk to him.

and scully is trying so fucking hard to be that perfect navy captain’s daughter. that girl who straightened before looking up at her father to say goodnight. that girl who, as her mother says, has “always been the strong one.”

and she tries to be the strong one. she takes a step back. she goes to therapy. she tells her therapist that she trusts her partner more than anyone, but she does not want him to know that she’s struggling. when she decides to come back, and calls him, she plays it off with a joke. (like he does). “besides, you could use my help.” when he responds, “always.” it’s so earnest and direct, without breaking her cover or stepping out of the box she created. yes, of course, agent scully. come help.

in the end, she can barely choke out that “i’m fine,” her signature move. he doesn’t say a word. he tips her chin so slightly, so that she looks at him. it’s one of the most special moments of the series, to me, the way she just breaks when she sees him. grabs him and sobs. and how you can just barely hear him whisper: “it’s alright.”

the police are still cleaning up the scene around them. i don’t think we ever see her do that again, in front of other people. but we do see her do it with him, when they’re alone, because she knows she can. that strong captain’s daughter. it’s like someone talked about on one of your posts before: scully has to be put together. she has to be the strong one. she’s trying to maintain a fragile place in “the boy’s club” (she talks about this herself). she’s trying to present respectability and a certain image.

and maybe she does have to be that person, for her parents, for her brother, for the FBI, the doctors. but mulder thinks that it’s okay to be affected. he just wants her to be able to talk about it. he wants to see her vulnerability, and shield it. in that house in minneapolis, his face breaks, but he just holds her and whispers. and she rarely falls into it, but she knows that she can, since the motel room in bellefleur. and that means something.

it’s just impossible not to soften around him. and that’s something really special, for scully, for the victims and witnesses he works with. he values their help, he already views them as strong, he wants them to express everything that they’re feeling. he believes it helps.

(mulder has said that line too, “you’re the strong one.” - to lucy householder when she was crying in the dirt)

this show was always realistic. you do have to present a certain image. most people are gonna think you’re young and weak and traumatized and stupid. but it also centered this whole thing around this one person that didn’t require any of that, and that’s why it works. why it’s so special.

[bokettochild]

For the febwhump:

Day 10 with little legend in ALTTP and killing a knight for the first time?

Okay, so Legend wasn't really talking (shock and grief do that, it's okay) so this is Fable's POV. I hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 4,985

Summary: Death is familiar to the little girl who will one day be queen. To the boy she had to ask to be her champion, not so much.

Zelda has never particularly thought about death before. 

Sure, mother and father were betrayed and killed by a dear friend, and she knows this, but it’s just as much a fact of life to her as the stones of the castle and the swords in the hands of her grandfather’s knights. Death exists and she’s seen it, seen public executions held for terrible criminals and traitors to the crown, but even to her tender years these things are simply part of life. The people who die are always faceless people who don’t matter anymore, and she’d never known her parents anyway, so why should she mourn for them? 

She’s heard the castle staff call her a ‘cold little thing’, but in a world where her destiny is to wait for the next escape of a demon she or her descendants must face, how can they blame her? Especially since most of the staff don’t seem to like her much anyway, or Grandfather. She gets the idea that the king of Hyrule isn’t liked at all by most people, but she doesn’t know why and she’s long since given up asking. The knights only assure her with their loyalty and the servants excuse themselves under the pretext of having chores to attend to. 

It’s alright, she doesn’t really care what they think. She doesn’t really care about them either. 

That is, until suddenly her maid is dead and she’s being hauled down to a dungeon by soldiers who now do not swear their allegiance with charming smiles, but who march, stone-faced, to lock her up, despite her demands to know what’s going on, what they think they’re doing, and what on earth is wrong with them. She can feel it, a heavy magic settled over them, and she doesn’t blame them for their actions, since she knows they aren’t in control, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when she’s tossed into the cold stone cell and left there, locked up like one of Grandfather’s prisoners. Calls into the darkness for answers go unheard, and as the night drags on, all she can do is wish, wish, wish for someone to please just answer, to get her out. 

Maybe the servants wouldn’t call her a cold little thing if they could see her curled up in her cell, pretty dress ruined and golden hair dirty, sobbing her eyes out into her skirts, but they aren’t here. She doesn’t even know if they’re alive. She doesn’t mourn them either, although there's some distant idea of sadness that their families might not see them again and that they don’t deserve to die just because of whatever it is that’s happening. Still, death isn’t a very present thought in her mind until at last, she manages to catch wind of what’s going on. 

Aganim, her father’s old friend and counselor, who’s been serving her grandfather for some time now, has betrayed them, has taken control of the minds of their knights, and now intends to re-open the Sacred Realm, which her ancestors sealed, in order to- like so many other foolish, foolish people- try and obtain the Triforce. To do it, he must first gain the power of the seven sages and the princess herself, and based on what little she knows of dark magic, she’s rather sure he’s not just going to ask them all nicely. 

She needs to get out, desperately. She needs to get out before Aganim uses her magic to open the way to the realm where Ganon is sealed! She needs to get out before he kills her, using her like an offering, just like what almost happened to the Spirit Maiden all those thousands of years ago! 

Her wishes and cries to the heavens grow more and more desperate. A call to anyone, just anyone, to please just come and help her! 

“Who's calling to me?” The answering voice startles her, makes her pull her head up and look around, trying to see the person speaking. The voice sounds almost like her own, but tired, so tired, and somewhat confused. 

She feels the same. She hasn’t been able to rest all day, attending to her studies, and now she’s spending the night in a dungeon, away from feathered pillows and heavy blankets and any small semblance of warmth. She wants out, but here, at last, someone’s heard her. 

“My name is Zelda,” she says back, wishes back. She doesn’t think there’s a person here with her, just a voice. 

She’s heard those favored by the Triforce can gain strange power, but being able to send and receive thoughts isn’t something she’d been counting on. Still, she’s not complaining, and she’s not going to question it either, just as long as she can get out of here and back to someplace safe.  

Oh heavens, is grandfather safe? Will Aganim do anything to him? He doesn’t have powers to use and he’s not much of a threat these days, not without anyone to back him up. Will the wizard maybe let her grandfather go? Just lock him up or hide him or not let him do anything? Is he under control of the wizard too, like the knights? 

“I’m Link,” the voice answers, still confused, still tired, still sounding too young to do her any good.  

She’s no adult herself, but everyone else is. Still, maybe he can tell someone? Maybe he can send help? At least someone can hear her, she’s not going to give up just because they sound like they’re her age! “Help! I’m Zelda! I’m trapped in the castle dungeons! Please, send some help!” 

Like a ribbon slipping between her fingers, the presence she could feel answering her; the warmth and light and ray of hope, slips away, no voice answering in return. She slumps down onto the stone again, sobbing. It’s not fair! She hasn’t done anything wrong! She doesn’t understand! Why is this happening? Why would her father’s old friend do this to them? Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why is the only one to hear her a child? 

Just a boy. Just some kid out there who probably doesn’t know how to get around in a castle or how to deal with a knight or a wizard. Just a kid, and she knows, she knows, kids never get listened to! No one listens to her, and she’s the princess! So why would anyone listen to a random kid? Especially one who tries to say that the princess is in danger, when most people don’t like royals to begin with, and anyway, no one’s going to believe that sort of thing! As far as anyone outside the castle probably thinks, she’s all tucked up in her big bed, just finished with dinner, and drifting off to sleep. Who’d bother to check and see otherwise? Especially if it’s only at the behest of a child! 

Maybe some people think she’s cold, but the sobs that ring through the dungeons sound terribly awful to her, and it’s enough to make her cry harder, because try as she might, the sounds and sights of crying just makes her cry, no matter how much she fights it. Her own tears echo back off the stone, like the wailing of some tortured soul, and her mind flies off to what and who might have been here before her. 

What sorts of people have lived in these dungeons? Died in these dungeons? Where there ever any little girls like her? Did they die down here? Did they escape? Did they have mums and dads to try and get them out, to hold them, or did they get left down here like she is? Just sobbing and crying with no one to hear them until they died and did whatever dead things do. 

The old books say that dead things are monsters that wander around, long and thin with ghastly smiles, and attack heroes and knights when they come too close. What if that sort of a dead-monster is down here? Gibdoes, she thinks they’re called, or is it redeads? Whatever they are, she doesn’t want them to be down here. She’d much rather be alone and forgotten than be found by something so awful.  

Except she won’t be forgotten, her mind whispers, and it’s not such a comforting thought as she wishes it was. Aganim knows she’s here, and he wants to keep her here until he’s ready to sacrifice her, split her open and make her blood spill to give power to his spell.  

She’s seen heads chopped off before, but they were far away and not important. She didn’t care who they were, because it didn’t matter once they were dead and she couldn’t do anything about it anyway. Will other people think about her that way? Will it not matter? Impa will care, and Grandfather too- if he’s still okay, if he finds out, but who else will care? The knights who are nice to her are now mean and cold, and the servants never liked her anyway. The thought of being forgotten is worse than the idea of turning into a dead monster and trying to eat people- or something, but she’s all out of sobs and her eyes hurt from crying. 

It doesn’t matter anyways, no one can hear her either way. 

Or, rather, she thought so, only there’s the sound of feet in the hall. Feet that patter softly and do not thud and thump like the heavy boots that knights wear or swish and shuffle like the wizard in his great heavy robe. No, they creep slowly across the stone, slow and unsure, like a deer coming slowly out of the trees. They move quietly and quickly, but hesitate, and that alone tells her it’s not a rambling, long dead evil that wanders the halls, nor a servant or soldier who knows this castle. It's not feet she knows, but foreign feet are her best chance of getting out, so she pulls herself up, wipes away what’s left of her tears, and moves to peek through the bars of her cell and out into the hall. 

She cannot see anything but stone. Whomever crafted these cells had no intention of allowing the occupants to see what was happening anywhere save just in front of the door.  

She can still hear though. She can hear the quiet, unsure tapping of boots. More importantly though, she can feel, and that delicate, evasive ribbon of hope drifts back into her hands, a light presence making itself know in the darkness around her, like a candle coming alight befgore her tired and puffy eyes. 

The boy. 

Link. 

She isn’t sure why he’s here, alone, but at least someone is trying. It’s more than she supposes some people would do, and at least he listened to her, which is far more than most people have done! His steps are wary, but she calls out, with her mind, like before, rather than her voice, urging him closer, telling him that’s he’s close, almost there. Just a little further and he’ll be here and maybe, just maybe, they can figure out some way to get this prison open, or at least she can tell him what’s going on so he can tell someone else. 

If the Sacred Realm is unsealed, Ganon will be set free, and the people of Hyrule are not prepared for that. They need to send warning- she needs to send warning, needs to tell someone and get the word out, to give something to her people so they know that things aren’t as they seem, that they’re sitting on the edge of a precipice, too close to the fiery hell before them. Her history books talk about a time when Ganon won, when he ruled their kingdom. She doesn’t want that for them, especially because she’s heard grandfather say they’ve only just recovered from that war. They can’t take it again. Hyrule needs peace. She doesn’t think peace is likely, but maybe they can stop too much of the world from being hurt by the evil magic, if they stop Aganim before he can do anything more. 

The feet stop. 

She can hear breathing now, soft and rattling somewhat, like her own does as she tries so hard to look through the bars of her prison. Has he been crying, like she has? Come to think of it, if she, locked up and also away from anything else in here, is scared, how must it be for some common boy who’s probably never been in the castle? Or the dungeons much less? For all she knows, he might have been here before, to visit someone or say goodbye before an execution, but still! He’s got to be at least a little scared too. 

She tries reaching out, listening again. His voice had been tired then, but she’d heard it, heard it from far away (because she knows there aren’t any little boys in the castle; she’s the only one her age). She could hear it then, so he, like her, must have been able to catch ahold of her thoughts, sent out like a wish to the stars she can’t see from in here. That means maybe she can reach out and hear his! 

Except that the sound of a loud clang makes her jump, startle back and fall over, unable to see what it was that made the sound, but well able to hear what’s happening, and tell that it’s very close indeed. There’s a scuffle, a gasp that shudders before there’s panting, feet skidding over stone and another loud clang.  

It sounds like the executioner’s axe on the stone of a courtyard. 

“Shit!”  

It’s him. It's Link. That's his voice, breathing and panting and gasping as she hears another clang, this time the blade screeching off of stone. 

Desperately, she moves along the bars of her cell, trying to see out, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s happening. She’d call out, but Grandfather always told her to keep quiet if she hears things that worry her. Enemies might be close and she should never make it known where she’s hiding, because that puts her and anyone with her in danger, and princesses should not put people in danger if they can help it. So, she keeps her mouth shut, and her ears open. 

Light feet dart, this time without hesitation, a hiss of breath that maybe carries soft words on it sounding, as well as the rasping of a second voice, breathing within something. Breathing within something heavy and thick, making it echo. It sounds like a knight, one with one of those very big and scary helmets that Grandfather makes them take off if she’s around, so she can see their real faces instead of the cold iron ones. 

She hopes it’s not a knight. 

The sound of an axe hitting stone, yet again, says it might be. 

Link’s voice is panting, feet darting. She hears a hiss of steel, a sword drawing, and then there are a series of very loud blows. There’s yelps and shouts from Link, but nothing from the heavy, echoing breather, just the slam of an axe, again and again. 

She can’t do anything. She can’t help or watch and she can only hear the awful sounds, the cry of pain from what she thinks has to be Link, and the clang, clang, clang of blades on stone, on armor, or on each other. She can only sit. Only sit and hope. 

No, she can pray. Grandfather says that her lineage, that mother and grandmother and all of them, that their prayers mean something extra special, because they have power from the heavens. When bad things happen, even if he won’t let her know what, he always tells her to pray. Pray for their people and the kingdom and for him, so he’ll do what he should, or can figure out what to do. She always does. Impa takes her to the little prayer rooms in the castle, or sometimes down to the church, and she offers prayers between her studies and her meals until Grandfather tells her that things are better again. She may not be good at a lot, but she has lots of practice praying, so even though the cell floor is so dirty and the clanging of weapons is nothing like the deep ringing of bells, she still kneels and prays as hard as she can. Prays until she hears a scream and a shout and heavy thud.  

The clanging stops. 

She keeps praying. Please let Link have won. She doesn’t know how (unless maybe he’s a squire? Yes that could work!) but she needs it to be him who won. She needs to know that the only person who can hear her call for help is indeed the one who’s still standing, because she doesn’t know if she can handle having hope stray so close only to be torn away at the very last of seconds. 

Soft, gently scuffing boots creep across the floor again, heavy panting, like a fawn just escaped from a hunter, peeking out to see if it’s safe once more. 

“Link? Is that you?” She doesn’t get up, keeps her hands folded, she’s got to be ready to start praying for help again if it isn’t. 

The voice that answers back is gentle candle-light and warmth, although it shakes and stammers. “M-Miss Zelda?” She doesn’t have time to get up before feet move closer and then there’s a boy standing in front of her. He’s short, maybe her height but probably a bit shorter, with messy pink hair hastily tucked under a green cap. His eyes are wide and blown out in the darkness, but the lantern in his hand makes them dance a bit too, almost red. Red to match the blood that spatters up and across his front, covers his boots and still touches his hands and the cloak wrapped up around him. “Are you okay?” 

She blinks. Is she okay? Why is he asking that? She’s the one who just sat in here, praying, untouched, and he was the one that fought...whatever it is that he just fought. “I’m alright. Are you? You’re covered in blood...” 

He winces, looks away, doesn’t look down and instead his flickering eyes dart all over everything else, as if desperate to not think about the fresh crimson all over him. “I’m okay.” And then, a moment later. “It’s....it’s not mine.” 

His tunic is ripped a bit on one side, and she can see where damage has been done, but she doesn’t challenge him. Boys are funny, Impa says, and if you tell them they’re wrong they pout and throw a fit and won't listen to you anymore. Link’s the first person who’s listened in a long time; she doesn’t want to lose that. Instead, she just nods, doubtful, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not like either of them can do anything about it anyways. She can’t heal and there’s nothing she can offer him either. 

He glances at her, and she recognizes abruptly that his eyes are terribly vacant. He’s there, he sees her, but he doesn’t seem to register anything else, just stare at her dumbly, like he’s not all inside his head. 

“Did you happen to see a key somewhere?” It’s sort of a reach, since she doubts that the wizard would make it that easy, but the flickering crimson eyes turn back again towards the way he’d come from, and she can see him shudder, revulsion briefly marring his otherwise rather pretty features.  

He nods. “Yeah.” There’s no waiting for her to say anything, just the setting down of the lantern in his hand, an old thing but well-tended, and he moves back out of her sight again. There’s some shuddering and catching of breath, rustling and clanking, and a squelch she supposes might be blood. He’s back again a moment or so later, slower than before, but holding the keys. They’re also covered in blood. He’s got more on him too, but his dull eyes are focused on the door, on unlocking it and pushing it open, and she’s quick to stand when he does. 

She will not stay any longer, not now that there’s a way out. She’s not sure which of them took the other’s hand first, but as she tells him where to go, he leading the way with the light and with a still dripping sword on his back, and she following, it doesn’t matter. She follows past the fallen corpse of what she recognizes as the royal executioner, through the halls that run rampant with rats, trudging through sewers and mire and muck. The ground underfoot squelches, making her stomach churn. The quickly cooling blood that smears over her hand from Link’s own only makes it worse, and she fights back the urge to pull away. She has to stay with him though; he’s her only hope and only protector, there’s no other way out and she can’t do this alone. 

They walk and walk, and she’d never realized before how many traps and dangers lay between the castle and the many hidden exits it possesses. The tunnel is cold, is wet, is damp, and once they exit again into the outside world, she finds it’s much the same. Rain beats down, lighting flashing overhead and thunder booming in their ears as they dart across the open spaces of Hyrule Field. Now out of the castle, she’s not sure what they ought to be doing, but she follows him. She’s never allowed outside alone, but he’ll know this land well, he’ll have lived here. He’ll know enough to hopefully know a safe place for them to hide. Still, it’s terrifying. She’s never seen the world flash like this, never slipped and tripped and made herself this muddy before. Link wraps her in his cloak, eyes still blank and distant, hands deft and fumbling, and while it’s warmer, by just a bit, it smells terribly of blood. Still, it’s better than nothing. 

In time, through the rain, she can make out a familiar structure. Almost like a second home for how often she’s been there; the church rises up before them with it’s spires and glittering windows, bells chiming twice and twice only, just as they’re hurrying up towards the doors. She knows they’ll be unlocked. 

They are. 

Link pushes them open with some trouble, more than they require at any rate, but it’s only then that she realizes that he’s shaking. Not from cold, she doesn’t think, otherwise it would have started far earlier, he would have been shaking when he first came to her, because he was soaked then too, wet and spattered in muck from the sewers as well as the blood. No, now he’s shaking so violently that she finds herself reaching to take the lantern from his hand the moment they're inside the dimly lit sanctuary. 

“Princess Zelda?” The familiar voice of the church Father catches her attention, making her turn from her companion to face the man. It’s two in the morning by the ring of the bells, and she can’t fathom why he’s awake, but there’s a candle burning and the smell of incense in the air, familiar and, like Link himself, an assuring presence that makes her heart stop the pounding in her chest, settling instead with a heavy sigh and soft cry she didn’t know was still left in her. 

The Father hurries towards them, and while she’s always been taught to be reverent, she can’t help but throw herself into open arms, shaking and trembling herself as his hand soothes her hair, warm, creaking voice- ancient as the trees she thinks sometimes, sounding in words she doesn’t bother to hear. 

They’re brought in and given warm blankets, and the bell-ringer appears to offer them warm tea, which she drinks slowly while the Father sits between them. Relief is a strange thing, a foreign thing, but she accepts it the same way she’s been taught to accept her other confusing feelings, sitting and listening to her heart and letting her mind spin until it finds itself too tired to keep on spinning. Soft prayers and the sound of rain fill her ears, and when at last she’s got a handle on herself again, she turns to look at her savior. 

Link is still shaking, arms wrapped tightly about himself and eyes vacant. 

She reaches out, not with her hands, but with the thoughts in her head, like before, and this time there’s no sudden noise to disrupt it. Link’s thoughts are far more jumbled and spinning than even her own. 

‘-didn’t mean to, I didn’t! I- oh heavens, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t! I- he's dead, I killed him he died and I- I- oh heaven help! I didn’t want to! I didn’t-” he’s shaking, teeth gnawing his lip and eyes slipping closed. ‘We’re safe, we’re safe, we’re safe. I got Miss- Princess Zelda is safe and I got her here and I didn’t end up crying and I didn’t let her down. God, she must have been so scared, I know I was, let her be okay? It must have been awful being locked up in there! I- I couldn’t-” he’s shaking his head, hands plucking at is sleeves, at the blanket. Even with the rain, there’s still bits of blood stuck about his nails and the cuffs of his sleeves, and he seems acutely aware of that fact. His mind spins so much she’s dizzy just listening, hearing him worry first for her and then be washed over with regret at killing, only to them have his mind drift to death and watching people die and- 

Zelda is struck with the sudden realization that Link, unlike herself, is not accustomed to death. She’s seen it enough times that seeing a body only brings disgust and discomfort, but sadness does not wash over her to see an enemy laid low. She’d only thought to avoid the pooling blood as passing the slain knight outside of her cell, but Link is actively experiencing regret for ending said knight’s life. 

“Link? 

The Father turns at her words, but the boy does not, instead rocking slowly as too fast breaths escape him. 

“Link, dear boy, can you hear me?” It’s such a relief to release it to the Father and let him try to get the attention of her savior, the man turning fully towards the curled up little boy, one hand settling on his shoulder.  

Link does not respond. 

The father’s hand slips to rub across trembling shoudlers, steady, soothing motions as his voice, warm and soft, continues. “I do not know what brought you here at this hour, but you are safe here, my son. It is alright.” 

“M-Miss-” 

“The princess is alright.” The Father assures. “She is safe here as well, and no one will hurt her.” 

There’s a small sob from her companion and she can hear his thoughts, the raging swell of the becoming less and less an effort to hear, instead pushing back against her, pushing out and demanding release, pouring into her own mind with terrifying clarity. Pain, anguish, regret, fear, guilt, overwhelming sadness. The ever-present thought of “be strong for her, she looks so scared” makes something inside her own heart twist up and her own breath catch. 

“You got me out,” she murmurs, because speaking aloud seems almost wrong in the silence and peace of the otherwise empty church, “thank you.” 

Dull eyes fall, Link burying his face in his arms with a sob that has tears pricking at her own eyes all over again. Shre’s always been weak to tears, a fault that Grandfather has warned her must be controlled, lest it be used against her, but she can’t help but cry along with the boy beside her, even as the Father comforts them. 

Maybe she’s used to death, but he isn’t. More so though, he’s the one who swung the blade. He had killed a man, killed for her and soiled hands that no doubt had never caused harm further than a fight with friends or other such mischief that common children are allowed to get up to. Blood is new to him, terrifying still, not something he was raised watching be spilled, not something he expects. 

His clothes are soaked with it. Even though a potion was given to him, prompted slowly to his lips and choked down dumbly, he’s got his own blood and that of the fallen knights both spattered over him, staining his clothes. It’s not only theirs though, because her peeks into his thoughts grant her visions of a man, in the same dungeons as they had been, wounded and bleeding out, of this same boy, only moments before finding her, finding said man and pleading, fighting against the flow of blood, of tears on his face and hurt in his heart. He’d lost someone just before coming to her. He’d been blank even before killing, forcing himself onwards to help her, guided only by the final words of the dead man in the sewers. He’d wandered and been chased, had faught a foe three times his own size, been forced to thrust a sword that’s too big for him into the heart of a man after just seeing the effects of the same.  

Death is following this boy, biting at his heels tonight, and the more their thoughts bleed together in her head, the more the weight of what has happened hits her. 

He’s killed for her, and with the knights taken over and the only ones on her side being the Father and this boy, she might have to ask him to do it again. 

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

Bricktober day 3- JBM

Musichetta finding out about the barricade

____________________

Morning arrives, bathing Paris in red light. Musichetta stirs alone again. She hasn’t seen her boys for a day or two. Normally she wouldn’t worry, Bossuet in particular is always and forever going off for walks and finding himself halfway across France. However there’s something different about today. 

She gets dressed and walks out onto the street where a hawker is selling newspapers. She glances over and stops dead. 

‘Students Dead In Barricade’ The headline proclaims. All the air flies out of her lungs. She rushes over and snatches a newspaper. The hawker goes to protest but takes a look at her and decides against it. 

“The student revolutionary group known as Les Amis De L’ABC died last night at their barricade. They were protesting at Rue Saint-Martin. Many soldiers-” She doesn’t read any more before she runs. 

She knows she gets many glances but she doesn’t care, focused on getting there. 

Her footsteps echo through Boulevard de Bonne Nouvelle as she turns a corner and skids to a halt. 

Behind a half-blown up barricade made of chairs, tables, signs, barrels and many more things lie bodies.  

This can’t be real, surely. Surely this isn’t Enjolras and Grantaire lying together, stained with blood. Surely this isn’t the body of little Gavroche. Surely that can’t be Monsieur Mabeuf. Surely she’s hallucinating. Or dreaming. Or maybe they’re all asleep. 

Her breathing picks up as she steps over Courfreyac’s corpse and sinks to her knees. 

Her boys. Her beautiful boys. 

Bossuet is curled around Joly as if trying to protect him. Both of them stare sightlessly through glassy eyes, gunshot holes straight through their shirts. 

No. No. No. This can’t be happening. They would have told her.

They had been evasive the past week or two. Joly was almost never away from her- overly affectionate in a way that was so unlike him. Bossuet had been pulling away slowly, distant and restraining himself. She had worried. She had planned to ask about it-

God. 

She collapses in a heap next to them. She doesn’t cry. She can’t. 

“Batards.” She mutters quietly. 

If anyone had passed by then, they would have thought there to be three dead bodies where there were only two. 

Hours pass. She is shivering now, but she doesn’t leave. Why did they do it? Why didn’t they tell her? 

Footsteps make her sit up sharply. She thinks she must be asleep, for Marius is walking stiltedly through the maze of bodies, tears running down his cheeks. 

“Marius?” She calls, her voice cracking. She gets to her feet. 

“Musichetta?” 

She starts crying then, loud sobs wracking her with grief. How is he alive? How is he alive when her boys are dead? 

“They’re dead. They’re all dead. Joly, Bossuet-” She dissolves into tears again.

Marius hugs her awkwardly. She guesses he’s injured from the way he holds himself. 

It takes her a second to realise he’s whispering something. 

“It should have been me. I should have- I should be here with them. I don’t deserve this life.” 

“No. No, they would not have wanted that. If anyone, it should have been me. They would be glad someone survived. They knew the risks.” 

He clearly doesn’t know what to say to that. After a pause, he lets go of her. 

“‘Chetta, you are freezing. Come with me, I am staying with my love’s father. There will be space for you.”

“I can’t leave them, Marius.” 

“Would they want you to catch hypothermia here? Come. We will make sure they are buried properly.”

She leaves with Marius, but after Joly and Bossuet’s funeral and Marius and Cosette’s wedding, she goes to Italy. Paris held too many memories. 

She never loved another like she had loved her boys. 

When she dies, she is buried next to them in Paris. 

_________________________________

@lesmis-prompts

[tech-sapphy]

hi dndads fans

…okay y’all here’s how oakworthy can still win-

---

Normal was sobbing. 

His son was sobbing over the body of this other kid, holding tightly onto him. A kid who Sparrow had only ever heard about in passing.

Sparrow wasn’t stupid, he knew his son… and he knew that look. It's not just grief.

Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to piece it all together after hearing that kid’s parting words.

Seeing a kid who was his son’s age lying on the ground, cold, pale, and unmoving… for a split second he almost pictured Normal in his place. It hit him, now, just how wrong it was to ever let his kids get dragged into this mess he created. He couldn’t undo all the trauma that was done to them. Their kids were too deeply implicated now. He knew that he and the guys wouldn’t be able to fix all of this on their own.

… But Sparrow could still fix something.

And when he saw his son put his head to this kid’s chest, clearly trying to hear a heartbeat, something, anything? And saw the way that Normal only cried more as the seconds passed?

It was a nearly instantaneous decision on Sparrow’s part. Thank everything he still had a couple spell slots left.

He didn't notice normal glare at him, nor did he notice the way it shifted into shock when Sparrow put a hand on Hermie’s shoulder and cast revivify.

——

He was breathing. 

Hermie was breathing and the color was returning to his face.

Sighs and looks of relief from Scary, Linc, and Taylor were loud and evident, and Normal felt his dad putting a hand on his shoulder and felt a little better. But all of it was an afterthought. Nothing else mattered as he now had the energy to pull Hermie into a hug. A gentle one, considering how weak he was, but a hug nonetheless. One where he could feel and hear Hermie breathing.

It’d be too awkward to put his head on his chest again now that he was conscious, as tempting as it was, so Normal settled for putting his head in the crook of his shoulder, feeling his pulse and listening to the sound of his breathing.

He had one spell slot left, and his dad’s healing is what gave him the dredges of strength he needed to cast cure wounds on hermie. Normal felt him start to breathe a little more steadily. He felt Hermie's head moving around slightly, probably trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe it was selfish for him to still be holding onto him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was alive. 

Would it be nice to know if he actually meant what he said? If they could kiss and have this trauma all go away? Yeah. But after seeing Hermie lying cold and dead in his arms, Normal would take whatever he could get, as long as he was okay. 

So he started to move away from the hug and gently set Hermie down.

But then he caught a glance of a smirk-adjacent smile on Hermie’s face, right before Normal felt Hermie's arms wrap around him and pull him back in.

He felt a hand on the back of his head, and then heard a whisper; meant only for the two of them to hear.

"We have seriously gotta stop meeting like this."

Normal broke out into laughter, crinkling his eyes shut. Of course he’d bring this back.

When he opened his eyes again, his heart started racing even more. They’re so close together. It’d be so easy to put a hand on his cheek, and just lean in a little more.

He doesn’t want to hesitate anymore.

It looks like Hermie doesn’t either.

It only takes a slight move forward for them to finally meet in a kiss. Just like a musical reprise. They had gone through literal hell and back and finally found a way back to each other.

It was messy, they were covered in blood and surrounded by hellfire for a little while back there… 

But at this point, that mess was starting to feel like home. 

Maybe Hermie would, too.

——

That night, Normal was tossing and turning.

Finally back in San Dimas, he was in his own bed. But he couldn’t sleep.

He knew Hermie was alive and fine, staying over with Taylor for now, but… all he could see and think about was his slumped over, cold body. 

Yeah, he wasn’t sleeping tonight. Unless-

He plucked his phone from his nightstand. No notifications, but for once, he didn’t care that there wasn’t anyone reaching out to him. Because he was going to do it himself.

hermie 🎭💕

hermie!! are you awake?

He stared, waiting for a response. 

…

Maybe he shouldn’t have reached out at all. of course Hermie was sleeping, or maybe he wasn’t, after everything, and yeah, they kissed, but maybe he wanted to be alone after everything, oh god he was being clingy again, why couldn’t he just-

Of course

Oh. okay. So he probably wasn’t angry at him, even if he did wake him up. That's good. 

Now he just has to figure out how to ask him if he can come over without it sounding weird. Maybe when he has reassurance that he really is still alive, normal will finally be able to rest a little. 

can’t sleep :(

After all of -that-, who possibly could?

can i come over?

darn it, he couldn't help it, he just had to ask. quickly, he sent a clarifying text.

if you're okay with it!!! i just wanna see you and make sure you’re okay!! 

Well, I'm texting you, so clearly I'm okay.

But maybe I want to see you too

That was all the affirmative Normal needed. He grabbed his jacket which had his house keys already in the pocket, glad Taylor’s house was within walking distance.

be there in five!!

Door will be unlocked. I’ll be there.

Or maybe I won’t. You’ll have to come here to see.

—

Normal rushed over, antsy and anxious, only to pause at the front door.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead- what was he supposed to do?

Definitely not ring the doorbell. Knock? No, Taylor's a light sleeper. 

Uhh…. 

He would go throw rocks at Hermie's window, if only he knew which window was his.

He was starting to write out a text to Hermie letting him know he was there, but the door opened while he was writing it.

Hermie, looking bedraggled and tired, was smiling. it wasn’t a grin or a smirk. A smile. A small one, but it looked genuine, and he held the door open to invite him in. 

Hermie's smile was infectious, and he grabbed Normal’s hand, leading him to sit down on the couch.

Normal resisted every urge to just hug him right then and there, instead holding out his arms as a gesture.

Hermie must’ve been exhausted, because he fell into Normal’s arms immediately. 

As they cuddled up together, Normal leaning back on the arm of the couch so Hermie had more room to comfortably lay down, he finally gathered his nerves. Hermie wanted him there, after all, so… he liked him. it was mutual.

“Can I listen to your heartbeat?”

Silence. Normal’s nerves twisted back together.

‘Oh no, that’s stupid, That must be weird, you can say no if you want, I’m sorry Hermie, I know you’re having a hard time, I don’t want you to feel like-‘

Hermie just looked up at him and pointed upstairs.

“Shush, you’re getting loud. They’re still asleep.”

Normal’s heart dropped a little. 

“Right, sorry-”

“And stop apologizing.” Hermie said as he scooted back up, holding out his arms to Normal. An invitation of his own.

It would’ve been embarrassing how quickly Normal hugged him, if not for the pure relief he felt hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat again. He was alive, and here, and alright.

That's what gave him the strength to lean back into the arm of the couch and pull Hermie back into a position where he was laying down in Normal’s arms. As a reassurance.

“I’m sorry-”

“I told you to stop apologiziiiing.” Hermie sang in his little sing-song cadence. Normal let him, but continued with his apology regardless.

“I’m sorry for letting that happen to you, Hermie. I promise, I'll notice you next time. And I won't let that happen again.”

Silence, again. 

…Hermie hugged him tighter. 

“Well, well, well. A true knight, you are.”

Normal caught a little waver in his voice when he said that. He smiled, happy that Hermie liked him back and that he was helping Hermie by being there. In a surge of affection, he kissed him on the forehead.

“For you? Always.”

—

And if Cassandra found them asleep on the couch in the morning, cuddled close together?

Well, considering everything Taylor had told her about what went down yesterday… that was no one else’s business. She just put a blanket over them before leaving.